^-
 
 LE 
 
 TTERS OF 1 RAVEL 
 FROM DIFFERENT LANDS. 
 
 BY 
 
 COL. J. P. SANFORD. 
 
 MARSH ALLTOWN : 
 MARSHALL PRINTING COMPANY. 
 
 1887
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The custom of writing a preface to any book which 
 may be sent out into the world, is so universal, that I but 
 follow in the footsteps of others in writing one for mine. 
 
 These letters have been written at different times, some 
 of them as far back as 1872. A few of them were origin- 
 ally published in the New York World. Many have ap- 
 peared in the Times-Republican, of Marshalltown, Iowa, 
 the present year. Often written in haste, and under great 
 disadvantages, I do not claim for them great literary merit 
 or descriptions of lands and scenes not often described by 
 others. I have simply aimed to instruct a little, amuse 
 some, and entertain the readers as well. If this little vol- 
 ume pleases my friends and helps to make others, I shall 
 be satisfied. 
 
 I will dedicate it to Hon. J. L. Williams, Gen. B. A. Bee- 
 son, Geo. B. McCord, Tom McElroy, E. H. Hibben, all of 
 Marshalltown, Iowa, and to A. Casteller, banker, of Blair, 
 Nebraska, all of whom have helped bear the financial risk 
 of the publication; also to my wife, Erne Sanford, who, of 
 course, regards this as the most wonderful work of the 
 Nineteenth Century. J. P. SANFORD.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 LETTER I ~ T r 
 
 Mid -Ocean Steamer "Japan" No Saturday The Real Life ot a 
 Sailor II j\v Time is Spent, Etc. 
 
 LETTER II T 6_ 2 -i 
 
 Yeddo Peculiar Characteristics and Habits Comparison With 
 Other Prominent Cities Idols Bells Universal Language. 
 
 LETTER III 24- 37 
 
 Yokohama One Man is Just as Good as Another Commerce 
 Manners and Customs Bare- Legged, Coolies. 
 
 LETTER IV 34 _ 42 
 
 Rats and Puppies For Pies A Stroll in the City of Honan No 
 Carriages The Spot Where Executions Are Made Old "Peter 
 Parley" Stands Corroborated. 
 
 LETTER V 43-49 
 
 A Go )d-Bye to China Singapore, Asia The L ind of the Jungle 
 A Live King. 
 
 LETTER VI 5 o_ 5? 
 
 Cairo, Egypt Extreme Heat Gems of Ceylon Journey to Aden, 
 the "Gate Cit- " Fire-Worshipers. 
 
 LETTER VII 58-67 
 
 Palestine Valley of the Nile Farm Implements Railroads 
 The Great Pyramid of Cheops Pompey's Pillar Mosque of 
 Omar Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Etc. 
 
 LETTER VIII 65_ ^ 
 
 "See Florence and Die!" The "Uffizi" and Pitti Palace "The 
 Slave Grinding a Knife" Raphael's "Goldfinch Madonna" 
 Michael Angelo.
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 LETTER IX 76- 84 
 
 Florence Duomo and Church of Santa Croce "No Rose With- 
 out a Thorn" Beggars E:irly History of Florence. 
 
 LETTER X 85- 9 1 
 
 Home Churches and Ruins Paintings and Sculpture Verde - 
 Antique, Porphyry. African Marble, Lapis Lazuli, Etc. The 
 Obelisk, Etc. 
 
 LETTER XI 92- 98 
 
 Rome The World's Great Museum, Description of Church of 
 the Capuchins. 
 
 LETTER XII i 99-106 
 
 Rome Church of St. John of Lateran Table Upon Which the 
 "Last Supper" Was Eaten Church of St. Marie Maggiorc 
 Part of the Manger in Which Christ Was Born. 
 
 LETTER XIII 107-116 
 
 Naples Ml. Vesuvius Maccaroni The Villa of Cicero History 
 of Black Storm in 79 Rice, Wheat, Barley, Eggs, Roast Fig, 
 All in a State of Perfect Preservation. 
 
 LETTER XIV 1 1 7-126 
 
 Naples Funeral of Neapolitan Poor A Wonderful Chapter of 
 Facts The Seven Blind Men. 
 
 LETTER XV 127-136 
 
 Russia Picture Galleries of St. Petersburg- Raphael's "Holy 
 Family" Cost $35,000 MichaclofF Palace Cost $12,000,000 A 
 Picture of The Virgin Said to be by St. Paul. 
 
 LETTER XVI 137-144 
 
 Switzerland Villa of Fernet, Built by Voltaire Cemetery of 
 Geneva Burial -Places of Sir Humphrey Davy and John Calvin. 
 
 LETTER XVII 145-153 
 
 I'aris Crowned Heads, Piinces and Other Noble Blood Bois 
 Bolognc Battle of Sedan Napoleon Siege of Paris The 
 Fearful Reign of the Commune. 
 
 LETTER XVIII 154-162 
 
 Expenses of Traveling A Valuable Letter For Tourists, Etc. 
 
 PART II. 
 LETTER I 165-168 
 
 Mid-Occar. Life-Like Description of Seasick Cases "Oh, the 
 Ship is Sinking!" Capt. Wilson and His Crew List of Pas- 
 sengers.
 
 CONTENTS. VII 
 
 LETTER II 169-172 
 
 Atlantic O:ean How We Pass Time on Shipboard Some Side- 
 Splitting Stories Land in Sight. 
 
 LETTER III 1 73~ 1 T9 
 
 Edinhurg 'The More I See of Men the Better I Like Dogs" 
 James G. Blainc, Etc. 
 
 LETTER IV 180-183 
 
 Mary Queen of Scots "That Soul is Unworthy the Joys ot 
 Heaven Which Repines Because the Body Must Endure the 
 Stroke of the Executioner" Dark and Bloody Times. 
 
 LETTER V 184-188 
 
 London Royal Gallery of An Mrs. \Voodhull Genealogy of 
 George Washington. 
 
 LETTER VI 189-195 
 
 Fiftieth Anniversary of Queen Victoria Westminster Hall 
 Tower of London Executioner's Block and Ax Antwerp 
 Grand Pictures Brains Will Live. 
 
 LETTER VII 196-202 
 
 Waterloo The Great Battlefield. 
 
 LETTER VIII 203-208 
 
 England British Parliament Anecdote of Verbose Display or 
 Mock Courtesy English, Scotch and Irish. 
 
 LETTER IX 209-213 
 
 Ayr Where Burns Was Born Interesting Sketches of Relics 
 and Incidents. 
 
 LETTER X 214-216 
 
 Ayr Scotch Celebration Plumes, Cockades and Strangely Col- 
 ored Dres; of the Highlanders Throwing 1 the Hammer The 
 Caber and Other Athletic Sports. 
 
 LETTER XI 217-222 
 
 Ayr A Historic Bridge Paddy's Milestone Dunure Castle 
 Total Depravity. 
 
 LETTER XII 223-230 
 
 Ireland Londonderry "Erratic Irrepressibility" Traveling Ex- 
 penses, With Good Advice For Tourists. 
 
 LETTER XIII 231-238 
 
 Ireland Giant's Causeway The Home-Rule Question Glad- 
 stone's Silver Box Vivid Descriptions of Scenes in North 
 Ireland.
 
 VIII CONTENTS. 
 
 LETTER XIV 239-246 
 
 Why Do We Laugh? Amusing Stories. 
 
 LETTER XV 247-259 
 
 Ireland Answers Peculiarly Characteristic of the Irish The 
 Country of Donegal A Remarkable Preserving Receipt The 
 Red Handed O'Ncil. 
 
 LETTER XVI 260-268 
 
 Atlantic Ocean Biography Past Reminiscences.
 
 Col. Sanford's Letters. 
 
 PART I.
 
 LETTER I. 
 MID-OCEAN. 
 
 Ox STEAMER "JAPAN," EN ROUTE FOR JAPAN, 
 
 PACIFIC OCEAN, March 17, 1872. 
 T7ESTERDAY was Friday and to-day is 
 _!_ Sunday. To many this sentence will seem 
 to convey an untruth, but to us west-bound voy- 
 agers the declaration is indeed a fact. Most 
 persons know that a trip around the world in- 
 volves the loss or gain of a day. Going west- 
 ward a day is lost, while going east we gain one. 
 To obviate any confusion which might arise in 
 consequence of this, a day is dropped from or 
 added to the ship's time in crossing the iSoth 
 parallel of longitude. 
 
 Last night the "Japan" crossed this line, and 
 although it was Friday night, the laws of navi- 
 gation declare this to be Sunday, and to all on 
 board there has been no such day as Saturday, 
 March 1 6. 1872. This arbitrary arrangement in 
 regard to time, works some little to the incon-
 
 IO COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 venience of our chief engineer, his birthday 
 being the i6th of March, and he always drinks 
 to his own health and prosperity on that day. 
 Now, however, the poor fellow seems to be in 
 doubt as to whether he is entitled to this priv- 
 ilege or not, the present year. The routine of 
 ship life and duty in detail, is but little under- 
 stood by the great mass of shore-abiding people, 
 notwithstanding the efforts of "Sylvanus Cobb," 
 in the Ledger sea stories, to enlighten them by 
 nautical phrases and marine nomenclature. On 
 the boards of the theater there occasionally ap- 
 pears a play founded on ocean life. Of course 
 in a piece of this kind, seamen figure largely, 
 and, as a rule, the sailor of the play kills or 
 knocks down at least a half dozen villains, who 
 were intent on dragging a beautiful maiden off 
 to some dark prison. In fact the conventional 
 sailor in blue and white is always victorious in 
 the play, and when he sings "A life on the 
 ocean wave," we feel like saying "Amen" to the 
 sentiment, '-Give me a home on the deep blue 
 sea." 
 
 The real life of the sailor is one of care and 
 toil, his merry hours are few, and his hours of 
 work, many.
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. I I 
 
 Let us, by way of illustration, take twenty- 
 four hours in the history of a great steamer like 
 the "Japan," upon which so many of us for weeks 
 have found a home. 
 
 Thousands of miles in safety, this noble vessel 
 has borne us alone toward the land of the Ce- 
 
 o 
 
 lestials ; day and night the great wheels turn 
 and we hear the ceaseless pulsations of her 
 mighty engines. Twelve o'clock at night, eight 
 bells sound; half-past 12, one bell; i o'clock, 
 two bells; half-past i, three bells, and an ad- 
 ditional bell for each half hour until 4 o'clock, 
 when eight bells sound again. Thus the time 
 on ship-board is kept by striking the bell every 
 half hour, the highest number being eight, which 
 is struck at 4, 8 and 12 o'clock each day. 
 
 The first officer is supposed to be on duty at 
 all hours, but he stands no regular watch. The 
 second and third officers stand watch four and 
 six hours at a time, day and night. The four 
 quartermasters steer the ship and keep a con- 
 stant lookout for land, ships and shoals. The 
 captain and surgeons inspect the steamer each 
 morning, at 1 1 o'clock, and must find everything 
 tidy and ship-shape. At noon, the captain and 
 first officer work out the latitude and longitude,
 
 I 2 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 and place the same, with the number of miles 
 made in the last twenty-four hours, on a bulletin 
 board for the inspection of passengers. One 
 hundred and thirty-three men, working during 
 the day and much of the night, take care of and 
 run this immense ship. 
 
 At half-past 7 in the morning a gong is sounded 
 to awaken the passengers in time for them to 
 prepare for breakfast, which is served at half- 
 past 8. At i 2 o'clock lunch is on the table ; 6 
 o'clock finds the principal meal of the day, which 
 is dinner, all ready for us. An hour and a half is 
 usually spent at this meal. At half-past 8, tea is 
 served to all who wish. Aside from these four 
 meals, coffee, tea and bread are on the table at 
 6 o'clock in the morning for the early risers. 
 
 Passengers may retire when they please, but 
 all lights in state rooms are extinguished at 1 1 
 o'clock. In all respects our steamer is a floating 
 palace, with fare equal to that of the Fifth Ave- 
 nue or any other first-class hotel, and if it were 
 not for the dreary monotony of sky above and 
 water beneath you for so many days and weeks, 
 an ocean voyage from San Francisco to Japan 
 would not be an unpleasant affair after all. 
 
 A long sea voyage is well calculated to de-
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. I 3 
 
 velop traits of character which an active life on 
 shore might never reveal. Of course the inevi- 
 table "grumbler" is here ; he finds everything 
 wrong about the ship ; at home he is a geat man, 
 intimate with lords, dukes and the best of the 
 old families of "Hengland, you knaw." A Prus- 
 sian gentleman, "Minister to Japan," is a fellow- 
 passenger. He is a man of education and brains, 
 and never tires of sounding the praises of his 
 native country. 
 
 One lady has accepted the position of mother- 
 in-law to a gentleman in Japan, and is going out 
 to fill the situation. Her great fear is rats, and 
 the nightly encounters she has with these Nor- 
 way rodents would furnish foundation upon which 
 to build a dime novel. 
 
 About six of our passengers spend most of 
 their time in playing a game called "draw poker" 
 for beans. Each bean is bought at the price of 
 five cents and redeemed for the same. This 
 game seems to be less intellectual than "chess," 
 but the players claim that it is more majestic. 
 One lady goes out to Japan to regain her health. 
 Poor soul, she has had, according to her own 
 story, nearly all the ills known to the medical 
 profession. At the table, the gentleman who left
 
 14 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 his baggage, receives sympathy from the one who 
 was so shamefully imposed upon by the Union 
 Pacific railroad company, and the baldheaded 
 man has a peculiar hair restorer recommended to 
 him by the lady who was cured of dyspepsia in 
 San Francisco, by a "healing medium." With all 
 our different tastes, desires and hopes, there un- 
 derlies this fact : For each there is a spot on 
 earth that is dear, and loved ones around whom 
 the ties of affection tenderly twine. 
 
 I am writing a loose, dreamy sort of a letter ; 
 in fact, have but little to write about yet. Per- 
 haps it will not be out of place for me to say a 
 few words in regard to the snow blockade in the 
 mountains, which I, in common with many others, 
 encountered while journeying on the Union Pa- 
 cific railroad toward San Francisco. It is my 
 opinion that much unmerited censure has been 
 placed upon the officers of this road. I was on 
 the snow-plow, some of the time in the extreme 
 front, and watched with great care and anxiety 
 the struggle between toiling men and the sweep- 
 ing winds. The drifts were of great depth and 
 solidity, hard to remove, and quickly replaced by 
 others. A large number of men were kept at 
 work day and night, and the officers seemed tire-
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 15 
 
 less in their efforts to forward the train. Food 
 of a fair quality was distributed by the company 
 through the cars, and the hungry invited to eat. 
 
 It seemed to me that the officers of the road 
 might have been less reticent toward the passen- 
 gers in regard to furnishing information as to the 
 time of starting train, and the progress made in 
 clearing the road of snow, but I cannot join in 
 the wholesale denunciation of this road and its 
 officers, after witnessing the efforts made for the 
 comfort of passengers, and should occasion re- 
 quire, I shall have no hesitation in again braving 
 the Rocky Mountain storms in a journey over 
 the Union Pacific railroad. 
 
 In a few days I hope to write from Yeddo, 
 Japan.
 
 LETTER II. 
 JAPAN. 
 
 YEDDO, Japan, March 27, 1872. 
 A FTER a long voyage of twenty-six days, 
 J^\_ the good steamer "Japan" dropped anchor 
 in the harbor of Yokohama, and our little family 
 of passengers was broken up, never more to be 
 united this side of death's river. With sad hearts 
 good byes were said, and each one landed on the 
 shores of Japan to pursue business or pleasure, 
 as fancy might lead or necessity require. 
 
 My own desire was to see as much of Japan in 
 as short time as possible. I therefore spent one 
 day in Yokohama, and made arrangements to 
 reach this city early the following morning. No 
 two writers agree in regard to the distance be- 
 tween Yokohama and Yeddo. Some call it 
 twelve miles, others twenty, and a few claim that 
 it is less than ten. To me the reason of this dis- 
 agreement is obvious. From Yokohama there is
 
 COL. SANFOKDS LETTERS. IJ 
 
 a direct road to Yeddo, running- through one of 
 the most thickly inhabited portions of Japan. In 
 fact, it is one continued line of villages the entire 
 way, and it is quite difficult to determine where 
 Yeddo begins or ends. Counting from the beach 
 at Yokohama, to the palace of the Mikado here, 
 the distance is about twenty-five miles. A rail- 
 road is being built between the two cities, but at 
 present the traveler has the choice of three ways 
 of locomotion. He may go on foot, hire a team 
 in Yokohama, or ride in a "jim-riki-shas," a car 
 drawn by a half-naked Japanese. Upward of 
 forty thousand of these two-wheeled vehicles are 
 now in use in Yeddo alone. It is to Yeddo 
 \vhat the "hansom" is to London. I hired a very 
 good team for $16, and came along at a lively 
 rate, reaching Yeddo in a little more than three 
 hours. 
 
 In Yeddo all teams must be accompanied by a 
 native boy, whose duty it is to clear the way and 
 warn the people in time to enable them to get out 
 of danger. 
 
 We read of the great number who inhabit this 
 country, but to realize the vastness of the popu- 
 lation, a ride from Yeddo to Yokohama is neces- 
 sary. Thousands and tens of thousands line the
 
 1 8 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 streets, and what a motley crowd it is. Pleasant- 
 faced girls, with painted cheeks and pearly teeth; 
 wives, with teeth black as night (all married 
 women blacken their teeth in Japan); men, with 
 two swords and rich silken garments, jostled by 
 strong coolies destitute of all clothing save the 
 dirty rug about their loins; and mothers, bear- 
 ing their sleepy children on their backs, all help 
 to swell the curious throng. 
 
 As we drive rapidly along our boy cries "hoy 
 poy," and the swarthy multitude gives way, ex- 
 pressing sentiment of wonder as we pass. Last 
 night an attempt was made by twelve natives to 
 force the guard and gain access to the person of 
 the Mikado. Doubtless his assassination was in- 
 tended. Five of the would-be assassins were 
 shot on the spot, and others were executed this 
 morning. 
 
 The city is alive with excitement, and foreign- 
 ers have been warned to exercise great care in 
 going along the streets. We are not permitted to 
 travel about unless accompanied by a guard of 
 soldiers. They are each armed with a long sword, 
 mounted on horseback, and not at all formidable 
 in appearance. 
 
 The present administration of Japan, at the
 
 COL. SANEORD S LETTERS. I 9 
 
 head of which is the Mikado, is friendly to for- 
 eigners, and in favor of open ports and free com- 
 mercial relations with other nations. 
 
 The party out of power is large and formid- 
 able, embracing much of the wealth and a ma- 
 jority of the best old families in the Kingdom. 
 This faction is decidedly opposed to the present 
 arrangement as to foreign relations and inter- 
 course. It seeks to drive the foreign population 
 out and have Japan for the "Japanese.' It asks to 
 have the present system of government over- 
 thrown, and desires a return to the old form and 
 a reign of a "Tycoon instead of a Mikado." 
 
 In Yeddo there is a strong element of the pop- 
 ulation in favor of the minority, and of course a 
 foreigner is looked upon with no favor by these. 
 Just at present, owing to this state of affairs and 
 the universal excitement incident to the at- 
 tempted assassination, our pleasure in visiting 
 the metropolis is somewhat abridged. 
 
 Under guard, I have visited a few places of in- 
 terest and climbed to the highest point over- 
 looking the city. My childhood's geographical 
 dream in regard to Yeddo has been swept away 
 by this visit. To one familiar with London, 
 Paris, New York, and other great cities of the
 
 2O COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 earth, Yeddo seems like an overgrown suburb. 
 Houses are plenty, but mean and small. Streets 
 stretch out like a network, in all directions, but 
 are narrow and crowded with an unprepossessing- 
 multitude. It was wild guesswork which made 
 Yeddo the largest city in the world, and gave it 
 the greatest number of inhabitants. In size, Lon- 
 don and Paris each cover more ground, and the 
 population of London is double that of Yeddo. I 
 am of the opinion, after a hasty examination, that 
 Yeddo covers not more than forty, nor less than 
 thirty square miles. 
 
 I am not permitted to visit the palace of the 
 Mikado, but have seen it over the walls. The 
 building is white, three stories in height, and is 
 much smaller at the top than at the bottom. It 
 would not rank as a fourth-rate residence in New 
 York. 
 
 Beds are unused by the Japanese. The floors 
 are covered by rush mats, upon which the people 
 sleep at night. The pillow is made of wood, 
 with a little roll of paper or silk for the neck to 
 rest upon. A man in America would be poor 
 indeed if he had not a better place to sleep by 
 night than that possessed by many a "Lordly 
 Japanese."
 
 COL. SANFORD S I.KTTKRS. 21 
 
 Sheba, the burial place of the Tycoons, is one 
 of the noted places in Yeddo, and well deserves 
 a notice. In grandeur and magnificence the in- 
 terior of the tombs and temples of Sheba will 
 compare favorably with those of any land I have 
 ever visited. The. architecture of the principal 
 tempta and tomb is of a nameless kind, and the 
 adornments fantastic in the highest degree. 
 
 In front of one altar is a fine specimen of 
 bronze casting in the form of a gigantic elephant, 
 sitting down, with trunk elevated and seemingly 
 in the best of humor. Bronze cranes of immense 
 size, stand upon the backs of turtles made of the 
 same material. Caskets of solid gold, containing 
 idols, were shown by the attendant priests. 
 
 In front of the main temple is a bell eight feet 
 high and six in diameter. This is made of bronze 
 and is one of the most beautiful toned bells I 
 ever heard. This bell is sounded by using a 
 machine, very simple in design and primitive in 
 construction. A single stick of timber twelve 
 
 o 
 
 feet in length and six inches in diameter is sus- 
 pended in horizontal position, one end within 
 a few inches of the great bell, and the ringing is 
 done by pulling the stick of wood back and forth, 
 letting the end strike the bell like a battering
 
 22 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 ram. Sheba's great temples and tombs are em- 
 bowered amid stately pines and other beautiful 
 forest trees. The bell was cast about six hun- 
 dred years ago, but the temples with their adorn- 
 ments have only been completed a little more 
 than two hundred years. In front of the main 
 entrance to the great temple, sits a Japanese god, 
 made of copper. The workmanship of this is 
 very fine. 
 
 The Japanese are noted for their skill in the 
 manufacture of kites. Thousands of these toys 
 are to be seen Jn the air on the journey from 
 Yokohama to this city. They are not only made 
 to imitate birds and beasts, but they are also ar- 
 ranged in such a way as to cause music to float 
 in the air to charm the multitudes beneath. This 
 curious result is obtained by having many strings 
 attached to the kite, all joined to the one main 
 string which reaches from the ground. The 
 wind causes these strings to vibrate and fill the 
 air with sweet strains of ?eolian music. 
 
 One striking feature of Japanese character is 
 their readiness to imitate the ways of Europeans 
 or Americans. This is seen in their fondness for 
 the dress, jewelry and customs of the whites. 
 From the Mikado down, there seems to be a
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 23 
 
 readiness to do anything that is done by civil- 
 ized nations or suggested by them. An anec- 
 dote will illustrate this: Mr. Von Brant, the 
 Prussian Minister, had a small book sent to him 
 from Germany, which very ingeniously advocated 
 and illustrated the idea of a universal language. 
 This curious little work he sent to one of the 
 high officials at court, supposing it would amuse 
 him. Judge of the Minister's surprise at receiv- 
 ing the next day an order for two thousand of 
 these books. 
 
 Mr. Von Brant at once repaired to the house 
 of the official, and asked what he intended to do 
 with so many of these little volumes. "Why," 
 said the high dignitary, "I will introduce them 
 into the schools throughout the Kingdom; it will 
 be so grand to have a universal language." His 
 dream fled quite suddenly, however, when the 
 Minister informed him that probably the only 
 man in the world who understood the contem- 
 plated language was the man who wrote the 
 little book.
 
 LETTER III. 
 JAPAN 2. 
 
 YOKOHAMA, Japan, March 31, 1872.- 
 QOMEWHERE I have heard the following 
 }^_) anecdote: "The wife of a well-known., pat- 
 ent medicine manufacturer was asked if she 
 thought the nostrum was of much value. Her 
 answer was: 'I do not know what good it has 
 done the people who take it, but I do know it 
 has been a great benefit to my husband and I.'" 
 This anecdote comes forcibly to my mind when 
 I ask, has civilization been of much value to the 
 natives of Japan? If it has done them no good 
 it has been of great benefit to the enlightened 
 few who have come here. By these, the people 
 of Japan have been taught how to make for- 
 tunes in a short time, and many of them know 
 by the stern logic of experience that all foreign- 
 ers are not strictly honest. 
 
 We Americans, particularly, delight to air our
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 25 
 
 Fourth of July idea of human equality, and in 
 theory, the great American heart throbs in union 
 with the sentiment: all men are equal in birth 
 and stand side by side as brothers in life's 
 great struggle. But let a duke, lord, count or 
 any sprig of nobility drift over to our shore, 
 and how soon the pet theory, "One man is just 
 as good as another," fades before the tread of 
 royal feet. The heathen devotee is not more 
 ready to bow in the dust before the march of a 
 dusky king, than liberty-loving, equality-praising 
 Americans are to pay homage to the lordly vis- 
 itor. 
 
 The few natives of Japan who have visited the 
 United States, brought back glowing accounts 
 of our wealth, power, prosperity, and, above all, 
 our Republicanism. There was a magic charm 
 in the thought that a mighty nation could prac- 
 tically adopt the sentiment, "One man is just as 
 good as another, and the rich ones are not above 
 the poor." 
 
 The majority of the Japanese, who are in favor 
 of open ports and free commerce, hope to reach 
 that high civilization which is ours only in theory. 
 Many of them suppose that in America all are 
 equal, and each one striving to make the others
 
 26 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 happy. In time the lesson will be learned by 
 them that this kind of civilization is the dream of 
 theory and not the logic of practice. 
 
 Power and wealth seek centralization. Human 
 equality is in part theoretically true, in practice 
 hardly so in any respect, and the inhabitants of 
 Japan are beginning- to learn that their national 
 happiness and prosperity is not to be obtained 
 simply by opening commercial intercourse with, 
 and introducing the manners and customs of, 
 other nations. Already has the government of 
 Japan paid big prices for fine looking ships, and 
 found them on trial to be nearly worthless. The 
 country has bee'n drained of its gold and silver, 
 and the nation now seeks the loan of millions in 
 the money market of London. The great mass 
 of the people are poor, and if those foreigners 
 who have resided here a long time are to be 
 believed, the government is almost financially 
 bankrupt. 
 
 How much good the introduction of other na- 
 tions, with their manners and customs, has done 
 the people of Japan, is an open question, and 
 one which I will not attempt to answer. The 
 Anglo-Saxon who drove our team from Yoko- 
 hama to Yeddo and back, used his whip very
 
 COL. SANFORD S I.KTTKRS. 2/ 
 
 freely on the naked backs and faces of the na- 
 tives when they were a little tardy in getting out 
 of the way as we passed along. Should the 
 man be killed at some future time by a Japanese, 
 what a fine chance there would be for an article 
 or two in the newspapers, showing how ferocious 
 men were when their natures were untaught by 
 the lessons of civilization. 
 
 The Japanese are made helpers in the field of 
 enlightenment by the enlightened. Japan pours 
 rich harvests of rice and tea into the great marts 
 of commerce, and largely helps to swell the sum 
 of the world's wealth, and enlightened nations 
 may join in the sentiment, "Japan has been a 
 great help to us." 
 
 One thing is certain, the people of this land 
 were no strangers to the fine arts away back in 
 the dim twilight of the past. Near the old city 
 of Kamakura is a bronze statue called the Dia- 
 Boots. This statue is more than six hundred 
 years old, and in workmanship not inferior to the 
 celebrated bronze doors in Florence. This great 
 Buddhist bronze god sits cross-legged on a stone 
 platform; his body is thirty-two feet in diameter 
 and the statue nearly fifty feet high. The ears 
 are nearly seven feet long, and the nose a little
 
 28 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 more than three and a half. His head is cov- 
 ered with clustering curls and his face bears a 
 sleepy look. 
 
 I regard this a far more wonderful piece of 
 workmanship than the Sphynx in Egypt, being 
 almost as gigantic and of much finer finish. 
 
 Japan abounds with bronze statues represent- 
 ing gods, birds and beasts; many of these are of 
 a high order of antiquity, and together with the 
 temples and tombs of former times, show that 
 the people were marching along the pathway of 
 culture, hundreds of years before the sailor of 
 Genoa sailed westward in search of a new path 
 to the land of the Orient. 
 
 The markets in Yeddo, Yokohama, Nagasaki, 
 and other cities, do not indicate a very great fer- 
 tility of soil, being but poorly supplied. Oranges 
 are plenty, but not of fine flavor, like those of 
 Messina or Italy. Lemons I have not seen at 
 at all. Eggs, chickens and fish, the markets are 
 well supplied with. Beef and mutton are plenty, 
 but not of extra quality. Butter is all imported, 
 and that on the hotel tables which I tasted, was 
 old enough to tell its own story. 
 
 Between Yeddo and Yokohama, rice is culti- 
 vated extensively, and the article is cheap
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 29 
 
 throughout Japan. On the same road I saw two 
 execution grounds, where heads are chopped off 
 with as little ceremony as one would open an 
 oyster. After a head is thus taken off, it is stuck 
 on a pole and kept for weeks in plain sight of 
 the multitude who pass along this great highway 
 of Japan. 
 
 A walk through the streets of Yeddo or Yoko- 
 hama, affords much amusement and instruction to 
 the traveler. Here comes a cart heavily loaded 
 with merchandise, propelled by two bare-legged 
 coolies before and two behind it. At every step 
 a great halloo is made by these strong voices in 
 concert. To a person unused to this feature of 
 Japan life, it is a great relief to have the noisy 
 toilers pass on out of hearing as soon as possible. 
 
 Hundreds of curio (curiosity) stores line the 
 narrow streets. In each the owner sits on a mat- 
 covered floor, and as you stop for a moment to 
 look at his wares he urges you with all his pow- 
 ers of eloquence to make a purchase. 
 
 Natives leave their shoes at the door on en- 
 tering a house, and this custom will account for 
 the sandals which are ever to be seen on enter- 
 ing a dwelling or store. In one of these curios- 
 ity emporiums a person may buy goods made of
 
 3D COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 ivory, bronze, wood or stone. Ivory ornaments 
 of all kinds are profusely displayed. Porcelain 
 dishes and vases of the most beautiful design and 
 superb finish, are here in great variety from the 
 factories of Nagasaki. Crystals, amethysts and 
 other beautiful stones found and cut in Japan, 
 are for sale at figures low enough to tempt the 
 most economical. 
 
 You enter a tea house and a tiny cup of this 
 staple of Japan is soon placed before you, a 
 flower peculiar to the country is dropped into 
 the tea, which adds to its flavor and yields a rich 
 aroma. 
 
 A priest, with flowing locks and immense hat, 
 followed by a servant, stops at the door to ask 
 alms, and when a few cash are given him, passes 
 on. A bell-ringer slowly wends his way through 
 the crowded streets, ringing his bell to let the 
 people know that a house has been on fire and 
 the fire has been extinguished. The bell is sim- 
 ply three iron rings in a staff of the same mater- 
 ial. The rings are made to jingle by striking 
 the end of the staff on the ground. 
 
 A couple of high dignitaries, each wearing two 
 swords, are seen to meet, and it is amusing to 
 witness the greeting ceremony. They both bow
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 3 I 
 
 at the same time, until their faces nearly touch 
 the ground. Etiquette requires both to rise at 
 the same moment, and as each tries to watch the 
 other so that the exact time may be kept, their 
 appearance, with their shaved heads bobbing up 
 and down, is extremely grotesque and the be- 
 holder can but laugh at the ludicrousness of the 
 same. 
 
 When walking the streets with a lady I have 
 been followed by crowds of women and children, 
 curious to examine' the dress and bonnet of the 
 pale-faced stranger from the far-off land. 
 
 No people on earth pay more attention to 
 bathing than the Japanese, and no people are 
 less careful in their bathing of violating the civ- 
 ilized idea of delicacy in rega-rd to the separation 
 of the sexes. Men, women and children bathe 
 together with no regard for our sense of propri- 
 ety. The men of Japan, from childhood through 
 life, are in the habit of shaving the head from 
 the forehead to the crown, and this custom causes 
 them to all look as if their heads were bald. 
 
 The coast of Japan, from Yokohama to Van 
 Diemen's Strait, a distance of more than five hun- 
 dred miles, is extremely rugged and mountain- 
 ous. Mountain peaks are thickly scattered along,
 
 32 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 while "Fusayama," the king mountain of the 
 nation, lifts its snow-capped summit above them 
 all, rising to a height of more than twelve thou- 
 sand feet above the level of the sea. This 
 mountain is in northern Japan. 
 
 A sail through the inland sea of Japan affords 
 the traveler a rare opportunity of seeing beauti- 
 ful natural scenery. Grand mountain peaks and 
 gorges are to be seen from the ship's deck. 
 Islands clothed in perpetual green dot the sea, 
 and hundreds of villages embowered in shade, 
 line the shores. As the steamer swiftly sweeps 
 along, the ever-changing panorama charms with 
 its beauty, and fills the mind with wonder at its 
 extent. 
 
 In village or city, one peculiarity of Japanese 
 custom will be observed, and that is this: While 
 they seek to imitate us in so many of our ways, 
 there are some few things they do in a manner 
 peculiar to themselves and to no other people. 
 Thus, in building a house, while others begin at 
 the foundation and build up, the Japan architect 
 builds the roof first, and raises it to its place, 
 where it is supported on long poles, and the 
 house built up to it.. The carpenter of other na- 
 tions planes a board by moving the plane along
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 33 
 
 its surface, the mechanic here shoves the board 
 and keeps the plane stationary. The blacksmith 
 sits down while hammering away at his work. 
 The boatman never rows, but always sculls his 
 boat along. In many respects it is a strange 
 land, and its inhabitants no less so. Let us 
 hope that the page to be filled by this nation in 
 modern history shall be one upon which future 
 generations may read lessons of progress, and 
 one that shall be untarnished by selfishness and 
 unwashed by the tears of the weak.
 
 LETTER IV. 
 CHINA. 
 
 HONAN, China, April 20, 1872. 
 Y earliest impressions of China were drawn 
 from "Peter Parley's" small geography for 
 children, and well do I remember that quaint 
 picture of a Chinaman with a stick across his 
 shoulder upon which were hung rats and dogs. 
 Underneath the picture was this line: "A Chi- 
 nese selling rats and puppies for pies." Long 
 years have elapsed since those childhood days, 
 but these memories are made fresh with me now, 
 by the fact that I am in China with tens of thou- 
 sands around me, all wearing the dress and 
 speaking the language of this peculiar people. 
 
 One of the great cities of China is Canton, 
 which lies on the opposite side of the river from 
 where this letter is being written, Honan being 
 to Canton what Brooklyn is to New York. 
 
 The history of the Chinese Empire is so
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 35 
 
 mixed with fable and clothed with egotistic pre- 
 tension, that it is, and perhaps ever will be, an 
 enigma to mankind. At any rate, I am willing 
 to leave the historic problem of China for others 
 to solve. I am not wise enough to grasp it, 
 nor patient enough to attempt to unravel so 
 tangled a skein. It is easy to demonstrate, by 
 Chinese evidence, that this nation has had a life 
 extending far back of the time when Rome was 
 founded, or Athenian literature was enriched by 
 the songs of Homer. By the same authority 
 we may prove that China is the richest land on 
 earth, while her people, in knowledge and abil- 
 ity, are without peers among men. The weather 
 is now too hot for me to dispute any claim 
 which may be made in favor of the past glory 
 of this Empire. 
 
 I am content simply to give a few facts in 
 regard to the present status of the people, their 
 manners, customs, and the appearance of their 
 land. 
 
 To do this, let us take a stroll through the city 
 of Canton, and note the objects of interest as 
 each presents itself. The Temple of Honan is 
 first visited. This is one of the greatest in 
 China, and including its garden, burial place,
 
 36 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 pig- pen and various buildings, occupies nearly 
 four acres of ground. In this, as in all Chinese 
 temples, we see immense statues of Buddha, all 
 of the most outlandish form, some with faces 
 fearfully hideous, and others with countenances 
 wearing a most ludicrous expression. In the 
 burial place is shown the stone furnace, where 
 the bodies of priests are buried, and near it the 
 receptacle for their ashes. The dust of each 
 priest is placed in an earthern vessel, which is 
 labeled and kept separate from the others. 
 Near a hundred of these jars wer in this apart- 
 ment, which, in general appearance, is not un- 
 like the cellar of an American farm-house. 
 
 In the pig pen are sixteen hogs, big enough 
 and fat enough to rank No. i in the Chicago 
 market. These porkers are sacred, and while 
 the Iowa pig grows fat and thrives, only to die 
 by the hand of the slayer, each of these is per- 
 mitted to live out all his days, and die at a ripe 
 old age, fat and happy. 
 
 One of the priests informed us, that in every 
 hog so kept, there dwelt the soul of a former 
 Chinaman. Why should it seem so strange a 
 thing for the spirit of a man to dwell in the body 
 of a hog, when in more favored lands we so
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 37 
 
 often find the spirit of a hog wearing the body 
 of a man? (This is not intended for a conun- 
 drum.) 
 
 A small boat, ably manned by a woman and 
 two children, soon transports our little party 
 across the muddy river, and in a few minutes 
 we begin to thread the narrow streets of Canton 
 proper. 
 
 No carriages are seen, and no streets are 
 found wide enough for them. Eight feet is 
 wide for a Canton street, and many are so nar- 
 row that a person may stand in the middle and 
 touch the buildings on either side at the same 
 time. Borne on the shoulders of our shouting 
 coolies, we rapidly thread these narrow ways, 
 amid a jostling multitude which in numbers seem 
 like the uncounted forest leaves. Although 
 white men have long dwelt in Canton, a party 
 of four or five is still a great curiosity to the 
 dwellers inside the walls of what used to be the 
 prohibited portion of the city to foreigners. We 
 were followed and stared at by a curious throng, 
 and when a stop was made in front of street or 
 temple, a crowd at once surrounded" us and 
 watched apparently with great interest our every 
 movement. A lady of the party was frequently
 
 38 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 greeted as "Fan-kuer," which was not consid- 
 ered very complimentary, as it means "foreign 
 devil" or "ghost." 
 
 One temple is called the Temple of Five 
 Hundred gods as five hundred statues adorn 
 the place, some hideous, some comical, and all 
 curious in workmanship and appearance. To 
 one belonpfs six hands, to another six heads. 
 
 o 
 
 One laughing, fat statue, surrounded by a nu- 
 merous progeny, is called the family god. 
 Nothing is more pleasing to this god, it is 
 said, than to see the earth's population rapidly 
 increase, and Chinamen grow more plenty. One 
 temple we visit, and are shown how the faithful 
 Buddhist is assured of good luck when starting 
 on a long journey. A stick, shaped like a bean, 
 is divided lengthwise in two halves, one side of 
 each half is oval, the other being flat. In front 
 of a god these two pieces are dropped on the 
 stone floor; if both flat sides rest on the pave- 
 ment, it is considered bad luck; if one flat side 
 und one round side, the chances are both good 
 and bad, but if both round sides are down, then 
 the omen is accepted as a promise from the god, 
 of good fortune without a doubt. 
 
 In one temple there hangs a bell, the history
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 39 
 
 of which is of great interest to the citizens of 
 Canton. Says the legend: "Long ages ago, two 
 patron gods of the city hung this bell where it 
 now is, and declared that when it fell, Canton 
 should fall to rise no more." In 1857, a cannon 
 ball came near bringing this sounding piece of 
 bronze to the ground, and the people of the city 
 were for a time, in a panic of consternation 
 thereat. It now hangs secure, and from time to 
 time, its deep tones swell out over river and 
 plain, telling the inhabitants of Canton that their 
 city is still safe from destruction, and unthreat- 
 ened by peril. 
 
 One of the most sickening sights to be wit- 
 nessed in Canton, is the spot where executions 
 take place. This is a small triangular piece of 
 ground, containing not more than a quarter of 
 an acre. It is bounded on two sides by a wall, 
 and a potter)', while the remaining side lies open 
 to the street. 
 
 It is said that on this little piece of earth more 
 than one hundred thousand persons have per- 
 ished by the hands of the executioner, within the 
 past twenty-five years, and as many as seven 
 hundred having been decapitated in a single 
 afternoon. Sacks and baskets are seen filled
 
 4O COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 with human heads, and skulls are thickly scat- 
 tered about. The earth is red with blood, shed 
 by the sword of the executioner two days since. 
 The three crosses upon which crucifixions take 
 place, are leaning against the wall, and it is hard 
 to believe that only a few days ago a woman 
 perished by the slow torture of being cut into 
 pieces, limb by limb, yet such is the fact. Her 
 crime was the murder of her own hushand, for 
 which she suffered the most fearful penalty 
 known to Chinese law. A man, who in part 
 shared her guilt, was first made to kneel at the 
 foot of the cross upon which she was bound; 
 his head was then struck off, she being wet by 
 the crimson current of his life. Seven others 
 were then executed by decapitation, and then 
 the executioner slowly cut her in pieces, the 
 head being severed from her body at the four- 
 teenth stroke. The prisoners are brought to the 
 place of execution bound hand and foot, each 
 in a basket slung on a bamboo stick and borne 
 on the shoulders of two coolies. They are 
 dumped on the ground, made to kneel, and the 
 head is struck from the body at a single blow. 
 The executioner is a short, fat, good-natured 
 man, and seems to like the business well. He
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 41 
 
 offered to sell me one of his swords for $5, and 
 laughingly boasted that he chopped off thirty- 
 two heads a short time ago in less than seven 
 minutes. He is a cheerful man, and wears a 
 "smile that is childlike and bland." 
 
 It is but a short walk from the bloody ground 
 of death to the Canton prison, and thither we 
 wend our way. In one of the dungeons of this 
 place our party was permitted, one by one, to 
 witness the torture of three pirates; a more hor- 
 rible sight can scarcely be imagined. Chained 
 hands and feet to immense rollers, these men 
 were slowly being put to death, their thumbs, 
 arms and legs being broken, one by one. 
 
 It may be asked, why do not civilized nations 
 interfere? I do not know; but I do know that 
 in Hong Kong there is a British governor, and 
 the city is ruled by English law, yet in this city 
 a public whipping-post stands, and I have seen 
 more than twenty coolies whipped in an after- 
 noon, their bleeding backs exposed to the eyes 
 of all, and their groans being heard through the 
 streets of this "Christian" city. Of course, this 
 civilized example is not calculated to make the 
 "Heathen Chinee" less cruel in the administra- 
 tion of what he calls justice.
 
 42 COL, SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 In San Francisco, a gentleman who had lived 
 in China, informed me that the whole history of 
 Chinese fondness for rats and dogs, was a myth. 
 Said he: "They never eat such food," and a 
 native of China, who was a passenger on the 
 steamer "Japan," made a like declaration. To- 
 day I have seen dressed dogs, cats and rats, 
 all exposed in the Canton market for sale rats 
 dried, rats alive, and rats freshly skinned. I 
 therefore know that these animals are eaten in 
 this city, and the declaration of old Peter Parley 
 stands corroborated by my own observation.
 
 LETTER V. 
 ASIA. 
 
 SINGAPORE, Asia, May 3, 1872. 
 Y journey for the past ten days, has led 
 me from Canton to Hong Kong, thence 
 to Saigon in Cochin China, and from that city 
 to this. In a few days I sail westward again. I 
 now begin to realize that my visit to China, for 
 the present, is drawing to a close. A good 
 bye must soon be said to China and the Chi- 
 nese, perhaps forever. In contemplation of this 
 fact, sorrow comes not to make sad my final 
 leave-taking. I have been in many lands, but 
 have never before left a country feeling so will- 
 ing never to see it again. If the wealth of a 
 nation is her people, as has been said, then 
 China is indeed rich; and if population is the 
 only criterion of a country's greatness, China 
 would stand ^n the front rank among the nations 
 of the earth.
 
 44 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 The Chinese are toilers in the rich mines of 
 California, and help to swell the population of 
 that "Golden State." Each year, ship-load after 
 ship-load of these people are landed upon the 
 soil of America. Soon their influence, for good 
 or evil, must be felt in our land. China has mil- 
 lions more to spare, and yet her population will 
 remain great. 
 
 A new page in American history is to be writ- 
 ten by these sons of the "flowery land." What 
 that page is to be, is a question which demands 
 our most earnest thought. Already the so- 
 called spirit of progress is pleading for the en- 
 franchisement of all, regardless of race, color, 
 or sex. Should this grow to be the voice of 
 the majority, the Chinaman will stand at the 
 ballot-box with all the rights and privileges of 
 the native-born sons of the United States. I 
 am writing this letter with thousands of Chinese 
 around me. I have been in their land and 
 among them but a few weeks. During that 
 time the impressions I have formed have not 
 been of a character at all favorable to the China- 
 man as a voter in America. It requires but a 
 glance at China, to know that fyer inhabitants 
 are not friendly to civilization, as we understand
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 45 
 
 it. They hate us and our ways here, and no 
 less so in our own land. Then they are strangers 
 to our forms of social life, and desire so to re- 
 main. For our schools, our government, and 
 our cherished institutions, they care nothing. 
 These people go to our free land, not to be of 
 us, but for a time to be with us. America to 
 them is simply a place to make money in, and 
 while for this they toil by day and by night, liv- 
 ing upon what a dog would scarely eat, they 
 ever dream of a time to come, when in the land 
 of their birth, and under the influences of their 
 own religion and government, they may spend 
 the declining years of life. To make such men 
 voters in our free land, is to confer a privilege 
 that is both unasked and uncared for; it is to 
 give power to help make laws and choose rulers, 
 when the party so empowered cares for neither. 
 In leaving China I feel like saying: Gentle- 
 men I have seen you at your own homes. 
 As carvers of ivory and sandal-wood, you arc 
 a success. Your rat-pies, puppy-stews, and 
 bird's -nest -soup, I have no appetite for. In 
 your dealings with white men, you are as saving 
 of truth as any people I have ever met. Your 
 great marts of commerce are filthy and unpleas-
 
 46 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 antly high-flavored. You raise and prepare tea 
 for the use of mankind generally. In the prepa- 
 ration of this, as in most of your employments, 
 cleanliness is ever a stranger. China is a land 
 of great natural wealth, and immense in its ex- 
 tent of territory. You love it with its manners, 
 customs, temples and government. Continue 
 this love, dwell here in peace, and let no word 
 of mine urge you to ^mbark for the land I love 
 best. If you come to America, I shall not treat 
 you unkindly, nor seek a close alliance with 
 you. In my opinion, your votes are not needed, 
 nor your influence required to help shape the 
 destiny of the United States. You now wear 
 upon your heads the long tail, as a badge of 
 submission to the Tartar rule, and my experi- 
 ence among you strengthens the impression 
 that you are less fitted to rule than to be ruled. 
 For one, then, I shall ever protest against mak- 
 ing you rulers over free men, or law-makers for 
 them. 
 
 Singapore is within a few miles of the Equa- 
 tor, and for this reason, perpetual summer is 
 enjoyed by the inhabitants. I have been under 
 the Equator in South America, and have, in 
 Mexico and Egypt, experienced what was called
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 47 
 
 hot weather, but for real tropical heat, Saigon 
 in Cochin China, and this city, rank second to 
 no other spot on earth that I have ever visited. 
 Owing to the great heat and the fertility of the 
 soil, vegetation flourishes with marvelous rich- 
 ness. It is the land of the jungle, where the 
 roar of the lion is often heard, and tigers freely 
 roam. Trees laden with cocoanuts, dates, man- 
 goes, mangosteens and pineapples flourish, and 
 these fruits are reasonably cheap. One cent 
 buys a pineapple or six bananas. The same 
 amount of money is paid for twelve oranges or 
 two cocoanuts. Here, in perfection, is seen the 
 bread-fruit tree and the wide-spreading banyan. 
 When a ship approaches the harbor of Singa- 
 pore, hundreds of native Malays crowd around 
 in their little canoes, and beg the passengers to 
 throw over small coins for them to dive after, 
 for they are not at all impeded in their diving 
 by the clothes they wear. I never saw any race 
 of people that could compete with the dusky 
 Asiatics in the water. For one cent, a man or 
 boy will dive under the largest and deepest ves- 
 sel that floats, and when a few small coins are 
 thrown into the sea, hundreds dive after them 
 at once, to the no small amusement of the pas-
 
 48 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 sengers. From Singapore there is a large 
 amount of coffee, spice, pepper, cinnamon and 
 gums of various kinds, exported to all parts of 
 the world. American ships do a large amount 
 of freighting to and from this port. Yet there 
 is not a single American firm engaged in trade 
 here. 
 
 Our American consul, Maj. Studor, of Iowa, 
 leads a lonely sort of a life here, for like most 
 of the consuls sent out by our government, his 
 pay is much too small for the work he is called 
 upon to perform, and not enough to enable him 
 to support his family here, in a style befitting the 
 representative of a great and mighty nation. I 
 have visited the consuls of the United States in 
 all lands where .our own government is repre- 
 sented, and it seems to me that no nation on 
 earth, in this respect, is better represented, and 
 none pay their consuls so niggardly. When I 
 left America last winter, the people there were 
 wild over a live duke. The meat of a buffalo 
 calf, killed by him, was considered of much finer 
 flavor than if it had been slain by hands desti- 
 tute of royal blood. 
 
 Here in Singapore an opportunity has been 
 afforded of seeing a real live king. His Royal
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 49 
 
 Serenity, the King- of Siam, has just graciously 
 permitted the people of this hot locality to set 
 eyes upon His Majesty. The consuls of all 
 nations were first invited to visit him, and then, 
 with his retinue, he held a grand dinner party. 
 The king was gorgeously arrayed in silk of 
 many colors; precious stones, of great size and 
 value, sparkled amid the peacock feathers with 
 which he was adorned. At about 1 1 o'clock in 
 the evening, I regret to say, the royal party was 
 sadly under the influence of "fire-water." and 
 made night hideous, by sitting at a table in the 
 hotel, blowing, as if for life, on penny whistles 
 and little tin trumpets. It is impossible to look 
 upon this strutting, costly-arrayed, semi-idiotic 
 sot with any other than feelings of disgust, and 
 yet for him the claim is made that he belongs 
 to a royal line which reaches far back of Tudor 
 and Plantaganet. 
 
 Hot as the weather now is, I must embark for 
 Ceylon by way of Calcutta and Bombay.
 
 LETTER VI. 
 EGYPT. 
 
 CAIRO, Egypt, May 28, 1872. 
 
 AT this season of the year a journey through 
 India and across the Indian ocean, is not 
 one of the most pleasant that can be made. 
 From the i5th of April until the ist of Septem- 
 ber, in Calcutta, Bombay, and along- the line of 
 railway through India, the thermometer stands, 
 most of the time, at from 85 to 100 degrees in 
 the shade, and on the great steamer running 
 from China to Suez, "punkas," or great fans, are 
 hung the whole length of the tables, and kept 
 moving by a negro or Chinaman, while the 
 meals are being served. Many of the passen- 
 gers remain on deck all night, as the heat below 
 is almost unbearable. 
 
 While enduring the heat of Ceylon, I found 
 a little comfort in the assurance of a native that 
 the weather was now pretty cool, but by and by
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 5 I 
 
 it would be very hot. When that by and by 
 comes, I shall be far from the cinnamon groves 
 and spicy odors of this famed island, I hope. 
 
 Ceylon is the island of gems and is the gem 
 island of the East. The natives are called 
 Singalese, and appear to be a little better class 
 of people than the inhabitants of either Borneo 
 or Java. The men wear their long black hair 
 tied up in a knot at the back of the head. Their 
 boats are the most singular looking of any I 
 have yet seen. They are simply long, narrow 
 canoes, with two sticks reaching out from the 
 side. The ends of these sticks are fastened to 
 a log which rests in the water parallel with the 
 canoe and about eight feet from it. A more 
 awkward looking craft cannot be imagined, but 
 it is perfectly safe. 
 
 The gems for which Ceylon is most celebrated, 
 are the sapphire and ruby, particularly the for- 
 mer. As soon as a ship casts anchor in the 
 harbor of Point de Galle, the gem merchants 
 come on board to sell their precious stones to 
 the passengers. Good gems may be bought, 
 and bought cheap, but for every genuine stone 
 purchased or exhibited, there will be at least ten 
 counterfeit ones. One of our passengers had
 
 52 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 been in Ceylon before, and was well informed 
 of the tricks of the gem dealers. He had been 
 extremely anxious to have us appreciate his su- 
 perior knowledge, and had repeatedly warned 
 us against the dark dealings of the Singalese 
 merchants. On leaving Ceylon, notes were 
 compared and purchased treasures exhibited. 
 Many sapphires had been bought, and some 
 very good ones. Our knowing passenger had 
 invested a little, as well as others, and on one 
 of his fingers there appeared a gold ring, in 
 which sparkled a beautiful sapphire which had 
 been made from the bottom of a champagne 
 bottle. 
 
 From Ceylon to Aden, in Arabia, the journey 
 is extremely monotonous; nothing is seen but 
 water beneath and sky above. At night the 
 stars shine with wonderful brilliancy; the South- 
 ern Cross and other constellations, all new to 
 natives of the North, deck the heavens like so 
 many golden sands dropped by the Creator in 
 his walk through the infinite. 
 
 Day after day passes, and the same old rou- 
 tine continues: Coffee at 7 o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, breakfast at half-past 9, lunch at 12, dinner 
 at 5, and tea at 8; then comes the attempt to
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 53 
 
 sleep in the furnace-like cabins, and so time 
 drags wearily along. 
 
 At last the barren coast of Africa is seen 
 stretching its sandy shores, away off to the left, 
 while the volcanic headlands of Arabia, in rocky 
 dreariness, rise to greet us on the right. Aden 
 is at length reached, and a landing made at this 
 the "Gate City" of the Red Sea. 
 
 Aden is a coaling station for the Peninsular 
 and Oriental English Steamship Company, and 
 for the French line, the Messageries Maritimes. 
 The place is fortified and held by the British 
 government. It has a population of about three 
 hundred white people. I am inclined to think 
 that the earth contains but few places so cheer- 
 less as this. Not a tree is to be seen, and 
 no green grass gladdens the eye of the trav- 
 eler. The blazing sun pours his rays down 
 upon the bleak, bare hills; the sandy walks are 
 hot, and the ground is parched. \n this dreary 
 spot are found a few of that strangely-scat- 
 tered people, the Parsees, or Fire-Worshippers. 
 These people do not bury their dead, but place 
 them on the top of a tower built for the pur- 
 pose, and called- by a name signifying "tower 
 of silence." Here the bodies are left exposed
 
 54 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 to the sun's rays, the beating- storm, or to be 
 torn by vultures of the air, as the case may be. 
 
 On the way up the Red Sea, from Aden to 
 Suez, the weather was very clear, and we had a 
 fine view of the coast of Abyssinia and Nubia 
 on the left, and the mountain ranges of Arabia 
 on the right. Mount Sinai was in plain sight 
 for many hours, lofty and grand in appearance, 
 no doubt, as when viewed by Moses in the 
 years of long ago. 
 
 On both sides of the Red S?ea the country 
 is mountainous and parren. No grass-covered 
 hillsides are seen, and no fertile spots appear to 
 break the monotony of the dreary waste. 
 
 At length the little half-Arab, half-European 
 hamlet of Suez is reached. A hasty glance is 
 given at the spot where tradition says Moses 
 led the family of Israel through the miraculously- 
 divided waters. Suez, although small, is quite 
 an important station, as the great canal, which 
 unites the Mediterranean and the Red seas, has 
 its terminus here. This canal is considered one 
 of the great works of modern times, and its 
 value to commerce almost incalculable. The 
 civilized world held a grand sreason of rejoicing 
 at the laying of the Atlantic cable and the com-
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 55 
 
 pletion of the Pacific railroad. A like grand 
 carnival of joy attended the finishing of this 
 great work. Perhaps but few are aware of the 
 fact (for fact it is) that portions of this canal 
 were completed long ages before the songs of 
 civilization had been sung to cheer the inhabi- 
 tants of Greece or Rome. 
 
 The journey from Suez to Cairo is made by 
 rail in about ei^Kt hours. The first half is across 
 
 o 
 
 the sandy desert. The last fifty miles is up the 
 "Valley of the Nile," one of the most fertile 
 spots to be found on the face of the globe. 
 Here the train rapidly sweeps along over green 
 plains and through hundreds of fields yellow 
 with wheat, just ready for the harvest. Every- 
 where there is an air of richness and plenty, so 
 cheering to the eye and so much in contrast 
 with sandy wastes so recently passed over. The 
 great pyramids are seen long before Cairo is 
 reached, and to me they seem like old friends 
 welcoming me to the land through which I wan- 
 dered five years ago. Wonderful changes have 
 taken place since I was here last. The present 
 Viceroy is constantly tearing down old things 
 and building new and better. Railroads are 
 being made, palaces built, and the hand of im-
 
 56 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 provement is at work all over the land. Five 
 years ago Cairo was an Oriental city, like Con- 
 stantinople; now it is more like Brussels, in Bel- 
 gium, than any city I know of. Then I crossed 
 the Nile in a little boat and rode a donkey to 
 the pyramids. Yesterday I crossed the river 
 on a fine iron bridge, and rode to the pyramids 
 in a carriage over as good a turnpike as 'I ever 
 saw. 
 
 The great feast of the Doorga, a dervish af- 
 fair, has just been celebrated. The dervishes 
 are among the most fanatical of Mohammedans, 
 and each year when the annual caravan returns 
 from its holy pilgrimage to Mecca, a week is 
 devoted by this sect to religious exercises in 
 accordance with their own peculiar notions. 
 
 The dervish village is just below Cairo. 
 Here each night, for many days past, the faith- 
 ful have gone through with their indescribable 
 contortions of body, which is known as the der- 
 vish dance. Each night the dark Egyptian sky 
 has been lit up by the blaze of magnificent fire- 
 works. I have seen New York City on the 
 night of a Fourth of July, but I did not see fire- 
 works half so grand as I have seen at this 
 strange orgie. The feast culminated last Fri-
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 57 
 
 day, when the grand head of the order rode in 
 triumph over the prostrate forms of the faithful. 
 Such a sight I never witnessed before, and trust 
 I never may again. Thousands of these half- 
 mad creatures threw themselves in their frenzy 
 on the ground, all anxious to show their devo- 
 tion by being trodden upon by the horse or the 
 men who led him over their bodies. They 
 struggled and fought for the privilege of being 
 stepped upon, with all the fervor of lunatics. 
 Back and forth rode the turbaned priest, 
 mounted on a noble-looking horse, whose feet 
 fell with a dull thud on arms, legs, necks, or 
 bodies, just as each was in the way of his foot- 
 steps. I fancied at times that the horse seemed 
 a little ashamed of the performance, but the der- 
 vishes were more than satisfied with the whole 
 affair. 
 
 Each person stepped on, at once arose and 
 received the congratulations of friends. None 
 seemed much hurt, although a few limped as 
 they walked about. Thousands were shouting 
 at once, and for wild excitement and indescrib- 
 able noise, this scene far surpassed anything I 
 ever witnessed.
 
 LETTER VII. 
 PALESTINE. 
 
 JERUSALEM, Palestine, June 8, 1872. 
 Y journey through Egypt this time has 
 been one of more than usual interest. All 
 along the valley of the Nile the ripe harvest 
 of wheat and oats was being gathered, and, 
 although this soil has been tilled for more than 
 four thousand years, the ground is still fertile 
 and the crops as great as in the days .of Pharaoh. 
 One can but draw a comparison between civ- 
 ilization and uncivilization while witnessing the 
 primitive manner in which the ground is here 
 cultivated and crops gathered. While on our 
 Western prairies the gathering of grain is made 
 easy by the reaper's aid, and the threshing of it a 
 mere pastime through the use of machines, here, 
 instead of the "McCormick" or "Manney," it is 
 cut by sickles in the hands of dusky Egyptians. 
 When cut and bound into sheaves it is carried
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 59 
 
 on the backs of camels to a place in the field 
 rudely prepared, where cattle and camels are 
 driven over it to thresh it out. To separate the 
 wheat from the straw and chaff the process is 
 simple indeed. A windy day being selected, the 
 laborer throws the wheat and chaff into the air, 
 the wind carrying the latter away, while the 
 plump white wheat remains. I think the valley 
 of the Nile is quite as fertile as the prairies of 
 Iowa or Illinois. A higher compliment than this 
 I cannot pay to Egyptian soil. 
 
 In my last I spoke of the progress which was 
 being made in the way of building railroads and 
 digging canals in Egypt. Even here in Pales- 
 tine signs of progress begin to appear. When 
 I was here before there was not a wagon in use 
 in the whole land, and it was not known that 
 there had been a wheeled vehicle here for up- 
 wards 'of two thousand years. Now, on the 
 plains of Sharon there are fifteen or twenty 
 miles of passable road, over which occasionally 
 runs a New Jersey wagon, made some time dur- 
 ing the last century. I saw a donkey and a 
 horse attached to this antique vehicle by a rope 
 harness, and while listening to the creaking of 
 the ungreased axles, as it slowly moved along, I
 
 6o COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 could but wonder how long a time must elapse 
 ere these plains should become fertile, and the 
 power of civilization and progress made to bear 
 rule in this land once so famous in the history of 
 mankind. 
 
 However low the standard of civilization may 
 have been in Egypt or Palestine, and small as 
 the visible attractions of the last may be, one 
 great fact is shadowed forth in the mind of the 
 most careless observer, and that is this: A peo- 
 ple great in resources and wonderful in eventful 
 skill, have at some time found a home here. 
 Pyramids gray with the mould of ages, massive 
 ruins in Karnack and Luxon, proclaim this fact 
 in Egypt; while broken columns, great walls, 
 and scattered ruins here and there, tell the same 
 story in regard to Palestine. 
 
 Much as I have seen of these two countries, I 
 am still struck with amazement when I attempt 
 to realize the magnitude of some of their great 
 works of antiquity. By way of illustrating this 
 thought I will give a few examples of actual 
 measurement made by myself. The great pillar 
 which stands at Heliopolis, is a single stone of 
 the hardest syenite; it is sixty-four feet high, and 
 a little more than six feet square at the base.
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 61 
 
 The estimated weight is between five and six 
 hundred tons. This kind of stone is not found 
 within a hundred miles of Heliopolis. 
 
 The outside of the great pyramid of Cheops, 
 near Cairo, is made of limestone found in the 
 immediate neighborhood, or within a few miles. 
 The room in the interior of this, known as the 
 King's Chamber, is made of syenite. One of 
 these stones, measured by me, was sixteen feet 
 in length, another ten feet square. These stones 
 are so nicely joined together that it is almost 
 impossible to discover the lines of separation by 
 touch. The great syenite pillars in the recently- 
 discovered temple of the Sphinx are both im- 
 mense in size and beautiful in finish. Pompey's 
 Pillar, in Alexandria, is one of the most striking* 
 monuments of the massive kind to be found in 
 Egypt. The block of syenite upon which the 
 column stands is eleven feet in thickness and 
 sixteen feet square. In what is known as the 
 old wall of King Solomon, here in Jerusalem, is 
 a single stone twenty-four feet long, and a little 
 more than three feet in thickness. Stones more 
 than fifty feet long are quite common on the 
 walls of ruined old Baalbec. Thousands of 
 years have elapsed since these great stones
 
 62 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 were first moved. Pillars hewn out and temples 
 built travelers have described and redescribed 
 them, and yet the great- question how were 
 they handled? remains unanswered. Persons 
 who for the first time visit Jerusalem and the 
 Holy Land, find much to astonish and interest 
 them, while not unfrequently the emotions of 
 interest are mingled with those of disappoint- 
 ment. They have read of Zion and of Calvary; 
 the grandeur of Mounts Moriah and Olives has 
 often floated before their vision. The city of 
 which, in other lands, they have thought so 
 much has been a city rich in palaces, immense 
 in extent, and of marvelous beauty. To many 
 persons, a visit to Jerusalem has been one of the 
 great expectancies of life; it has been thought of 
 by day and dreamed of by night. To such, the 
 reality is indeed often a disappointment. On 
 entering the wall-girted city they find that the 
 streets are extremely narrow and terribly filthy. 
 A population of nearly fifteen thousand persons 
 is crowded into a space so small that it is quite 
 easy to walk around the outside of the wall in 
 the short space of three-quarters of an hour. 
 But little if any of the city now remains as it 
 was in the days of Christ. The walls of the pool
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 63 
 
 of Bethesda still stand, their tops being on a 
 level with the ground. The original length of 
 this pool was a little over three hundred, the 
 width about sixty, and the depth not far from 
 thirty feet. These walls, like those of the outer 
 walls on Mount Moriah, are built of immense 
 blocks of stone. The traveler now, while stand- 
 ing on the top of this wall, sees at the bottom of 
 the pit before him a little stream of water which 
 comes in under the wall at one corner of the 
 pool and finds its way out at another. Here is 
 all that remains of that pool so celebrated in 
 New Testament history. 
 
 On the summit of Mount Moriah, where Solo- 
 mon's Temple stood, the Mosque of Omar now 
 stands. This mosque is octagon in form, each 
 side being sixty-four feet long. It is consid- 
 ered by Mohammedans one of the most sacred 
 mosques on the face of the globe. 
 
 Into this edifice it was not customary to admit 
 Christians at all prior to the visit of the Prince 
 of Wales. Since that time, by paying the sum 
 of $2.50, and going hatless and bootless, the vis- 
 itor is permitted to enter and walk upon the 
 marble pavement of this, one of Mahomet's fa- 
 vored mosques.
 
 64 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 Others claim to find in this enclosure portions 
 of the ruins of King Solomon's Temple, but 
 such has not been my fortune. The outer wall, 
 which forms one side of the enclosure, bears the 
 marks of high antiquity, and on this is still to be 
 seen the old archway of the gate called Beauti- 
 ful, but in the mosque itself I have failed to dis- 
 cover any traces of that Temple which at one 
 time was said to have been the glory of the 
 whole world. In different places near the old 
 wall, deep excavations have been made, and in 
 these great blocks of hewn stone have been dis- 
 covered and other signs of ancient architecture. 
 
 There is one fact connected with the govern- 
 ment of the bigoted Turks, who here bear rule, 
 which I do not recollect having seen mentioned 
 by any writer, and that is this: The Jews, 
 although the most industrious and thriving of 
 the inhabitants of Jerusalem, are not permitted 
 to enter the sacred enclosure where their temple 
 once stood. Every Friday afternoon the He- 
 brew people assemble in a place known as the 
 Jews' wailing-place. Here, separated from the 
 enclosure by a wall, they weep over the humili- 
 ation and degradation of their once famous city, 
 and pray for a time to come when the city shall
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 65 
 
 be delivered from the thralldom of the Turk, 
 and the glory of Israel shall again abide in Jeru- 
 salem. 
 
 One of the chief places of attraction in Jeru- 
 salem, is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 
 This church was built by the Roman Empress 
 Helena, over what she believed to be the tomb 
 of Jesus Christ. In it she built a sepulchre for 
 him, which still stands. 
 
 On entering this sacred edifice, we observe 
 that Turkish guards are seated on a divan at the 
 left, and are told by them that their office is to 
 guard the church and keep the Christians from 
 killing each other around the tomb of their de- 
 parted Lord. 
 
 In one portion of this edifice the forms and 
 ceremonies of the Greek Church are observed, 
 while in another mass is chanted by Latin 
 monks. 
 
 The tomb of Christ is covered by a yellow 
 marble slab, in one end of which a number of 
 crevices are seen. Through these crevices, on 
 Easter Sunday, fire called holy fire is made to 
 appear, and pilgrims from different parts of the 
 world crowd around to light their lamps by this 
 so-called sacred flame. These lamps when lit
 
 66 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 are religiously guarded and kept burning while 
 being carried to the far-off homes of the pil- 
 grims. 
 
 Many a lamp so lit is to-day burning before 
 altars in sunny Greece, and in villages away on 
 the plains of northern Russia. 
 
 It may be astonishing to some to be told that 
 the place called Calvary, where the crucifixion 
 took place, the rent in the rocks, the tombs of 
 Adam, Joseph, and many others noted in Bible 
 history, as well as the Holy Sepulchre, are all 
 under the same roof, but such is the fact, at 
 least we are so informed in Jerusalem. I have 
 tried to feel enthusiastic and wonderfully im- 
 pressed while in Jerusalem, but I cannot. To me 
 the country about Jerusalem seems to be one of 
 the most barren and desolate on the face of the 
 earth. Rocks abound abundantly, but soil is 
 extremely scarce. The brook Kedron is a mere 
 little dry run, while Mount Moriah, the Mount 
 of Olives, and Mount Zion would only pass for 
 respectable hills in America. The River Jor- 
 dan, within two miles of its mouth, is so narrow 
 that one can easily throw a stone across it; 
 while the Dead Sea is a salt lake but thirty 
 miles long and from four to six miles wide.
 
 COL. SAN FORD'S LETTERS. 67 
 
 When I think of the land where David sung 
 and Solomon reigned, where Jesus lived, taught, 
 and died in endeavoring to teach men to love 
 God and each other more, I find in the thought 
 a something to kindle the spark of enthusiasm 
 in human souls, and lead- the thinking traveler 
 to say I am glad to have visited this land. But 
 when I think of the country as it now is, and 
 disconnect it entirely from its historical associa- 
 tions, I find in it but little that is pleasing or of 
 interest to write about.
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 ITALY. 
 
 FLORENCE, Italy, June 15, 1872. 
 OW difficult it is to avoid following in the 
 footsteps of others. We naturally seem 
 endowed with a disposition to see what others 
 see, believe what others believe, and, in almost 
 everything, follow in the oft-beaten track of rou- 
 tine. Each country is possessed of some pet 
 hobby upon which its inhabitants delight to ride. 
 In America experience demonstrates that it is 
 almost impossible to visit Niagara without at- 
 tempting to write poetry, or talk to a Sunday- 
 school without telling the story of George Wash- 
 ington and his little hatchet. Well do I remem- 
 ber, when a boy, wondering why it was that 
 Washington could not tell a lie, as most boys of 
 my acquaintance were possessed of remarkable 
 ability in that direction, and could tell one ap- 
 parently without effort. The children of Lon-
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 69 
 
 don are encouraged with the story of the poor 
 boy with his cat, wandering away from the city, 
 and eventually rising from poverty to the posi- 
 tion of Lord Mayor. In Switzerland the story 
 of William Tell never grows threadbare, although 
 for hundreds of years it has been the stand-by 
 in the way of encouraging Swiss youth. 
 
 I have seen fit, in this round-about way, to 
 enter my disclaimer against the use of the con- 
 ventional, "See Florence and die." I know 
 that it would be unfashionable to write a letter 
 from this fair Italian spot without some way 
 introducing the expression quoted. I therefore 
 do it under protest, at the same time declaring 
 that, although I have seen Florence repeatedly, 
 I do not find myself possessed of the slightest 
 notion of dying at least, not just now. That 
 Florence is surprisingly beautiful, is a fact which 
 has been kept prominently before the world 
 since the days of Dante and Michael Angelo. 
 It is rich in works of art, palaces and churches. 
 In this respect Florence ranks among the great 
 cities of Europe. The situation of the city is 
 delightful in the extreme. Through it runs the 
 classic Arno, while hills, covered with olive 
 groves, rise gently on all sides. Along the
 
 70 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 banks of the river are beautiful groves, through 
 which meander miles of smooth, well-kept roads. 
 Here, of an afternoon, may be seen the fashion- 
 able and rich in grand equipages, and the whole 
 scene reminds one of a pleasant afternoon on 
 the " Bois Bologne," in Paris, or in "Central 
 Park," of New York. The two great picture 
 galleries of Florence are the "Uffizi" and "Pitti 
 Palace." These palaces are separated by the 
 river Arno, over which is a bridge connecting 
 the two, the bridge itself being a gallery in 
 which are many fine specimens of the ''Gobelin 
 tapestry." The manufacture of this is only car- 
 ried on at the noted works in Paris. This tap- 
 estry is made of gold, silk, and woolen thread 
 of different colors, so interwoven as to form pic- 
 tures, which, in beauty and delicacy of finish, 
 rival the works of the most noted painters. The 
 entire length of all the galleries in these two 
 palaces, including the gallery or bridge which 
 connects them, is more than two miles. Here 
 are gathered masterpieces in painting and sculp- 
 ture, some of which are almost without rivals in 
 the domain of art. Others, as well as myself, 
 often use the phrase, "old masters," when speak- 
 ing of noted painters and sculptors. Perhaps it
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 71 
 
 would be as well to here state, that when an 
 "old master" in painting is spoken of, the period 
 represented by the expression "old," is not in- 
 tended to reach farther back than five hundred 
 years, while the phraseology, when applied to 
 sculptors, is intended to reach away back to the 
 palmy days of Grecian art. An attempt to visit 
 these great repositories of art, brings to mind a 
 fact before noticed in Rome, Naples, Dresden, 
 and other great galleries that is, the vast 
 amount of paintings seen and the comparatively 
 few subjects represented. By way of illustra- 
 tion, it may be stated that Leonardo da Vinci's 
 "Last Supper" is considered one of the finest 
 paintings in the world. In the different galler- 
 ies of Europe hundreds of paintings of " Last 
 Suppers" may be seen. Guido was famous for 
 his "Crucifixion;" Salvator Rosa for his "Death 
 Scenes;" Raphael painted many "Madonnas" 
 (mother of Christ); Van Dike and Titian made a 
 specialty of portraits, and the' faces of kings and 
 princes, who lived in their time, are preserved 
 on canvas and are striking evidences of the 
 skill possessed by these famous painters. Ju- 
 dith, with the head of Holofernes, is a picture 
 often seen; and the cheerful damsel, contemplat-
 
 72 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 
 
 ing the dead body of her enemy while she holds 
 his head in her arms, is one familiar to the vis- 
 itors of the famous galleries of Europe. In 
 short, while the noted scenes of the Bible and 
 of history have been produced on canvas by 
 famous masters, and often copied by less noted 
 painters, the variety of subjects chosen is not 
 very great. 
 
 A day's visit to a picture gallery is often in 
 its effects like an evening spent at the opera. 
 At the latter I hear one or two singers of won- 
 derful power, and am half-entranced with delight 
 while listening. Then comes the long, tedious 
 filling up by musicians of lesser skill, and I grow 
 weary while waiting for the reappearance of the 
 central light. Just so in looking at pictures. 
 One sees a vast number of paintings, with here 
 and there a gem, and the eyes grow tired in 
 endeavoring to see all. Experience, however, 
 will enable the visitor to examine carefully the 
 really meritorious works, while giving but a 
 slight glance at the inferior, regardless of the 
 fact that the inferior are the most abundant. 
 The "Uffizi" has this advantage. It has one room 
 which contains nothing but the masterpieces of 
 masters. This room is known as the Tribune,
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 73 
 
 and I know of no single apartment in Europe 
 containing- so many meritorious works. 
 
 Away back of the time when Christianity was 
 in its infancy, a Greek sculptor carved from a 
 block of marble the figure of a beautiful woman. 
 This work of Cleomines was brought to Rome 
 and placed in the Temple of Octavia. During 
 the Dark Ages it remained buried and lost to 
 the world. It was found and brought to Flor- 
 ence during the reign of the " Medici" family, 
 and now, after passing through the various for- 
 tunes of more than two thousand years, it stands 
 in this room, and under the name of "Venus de 
 Medici," ranks among the most noted statues 
 known to exist. The "Slave Grinding a Knife" 
 and the "Dancing Fawn" are also famous stat- 
 ues, and like the "Venus," owe their origin to 
 sculptors who lived in Athens when Rome was 
 in her infancy, and civilization had not carried 
 its banners west of the Alps. 
 
 Raphael's "Goldfinch Madonna" is one of the 
 most famous of that great master's work. It 
 represents the Infant Jesus in his mother's arms 
 and St. John offering him a goldfinch. This 
 painting covers but a little more than a square 
 yard of canvas, and yet for it $100,000 could read-
 
 74 COL. SAXFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 ily be obtained. " Hercules Hesitating Between 
 Vice and Virtue," by Rubens, is very fine, and 
 so is Correggio's " Kneeling Virgin." The "Ma- 
 donna," by Andre del Sarto, is considered by 
 some equal to Raphael's, while Paul Veronese's 
 " Holy Family" is one of the most famous of this 
 great artist's efforts. Guide's "Virgin Contem- 
 plating" is almost beyond the reach of adverse 
 criticisms, while Van Dike's two portraits are 
 among the very best that can be found. All 
 the works here named, are in one apartment, 
 and, in view of the fact, it may well be said 
 that no one room on earth contains so many 
 masterpieces, in both painting and sculpture, as 
 this. A hurried walk may be taken through the 
 many apartments of these wonderful palaces, or 
 the examination may be extended, and much 
 time profitably consumed. If the first-men- 
 tioned plan is decided upon, but a few moments 
 only can be spent in viewing any one object of 
 interest. Here is a table made of mosaic work. 
 It cost $200,000, was fifteen years being made, 
 and contains more than two hundred and fifty 
 thousand pieces of stone, all polished and neatly 
 joined together. 
 
 In one apartment is a collection of gems,
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 75 
 
 among which may be observed a vase cut from 
 an emerald. Another is formed from a solid 
 piece of lapis lazula, and is more than a foot in 
 diameter. Carved rubies and sapphires, of an- 
 tique finish, are plenty, delighting the eyes and 
 bewildering the mind when an attempt is made 
 to estimate the value of this costly collection. 
 The first work of Michael Angelo (a marble 
 mask) claims attention for a moment. Nothing 
 about this grinning face would seem to indicate 
 the wonderful genius of the man. He was but 
 sixteen years old at the time this work was exe- 
 cuted. In after years his fame as a painter, 
 poet, sculptor and architect was of a character 
 to place his name high on the list of the world's 
 most gifted sons. The "Venus of Canova" is in 
 the Pitti Palace, and, like the two "Wrestlers" in 
 the Vatican at Rome, by the same sculptor, 
 deserves a very high rank in the world of art. 
 
 But why linger now? My eyes are tired and 
 I will go out into the sunshine, and, for the 
 present, say adieu to these the great galleries of 
 Florence.
 
 LETTER IX. 
 ITALY 2. 
 
 FLORENCE, Italy, June 16, 1872. 
 
 I HAVE devoted the most of the day to visit- 
 ing churches, Florence possessing- two of the 
 most noted in Italy, these two being the Duomo 
 and Church of Santa Croce. The Duomo is 
 more than five hundred feet in length, and has a 
 dome one hundred and thirty-eight feet in diam- 
 eter. This dome is said to be a little larger than 
 that of St. Peter's, in Rome; and Michael An- 
 gelo, while designing the latter, used often to 
 contemplate this. The floor is formed of col- 
 ored marbles, and the stained glass windows are 
 of most beautiful design and finish. Giotto was 
 the principal architect of this cathedral. He 
 also designed the white marble tower which 
 stands near it. This tower is two hundred and 
 eighty feet in height, and is certainly the finest 
 of the kind known. The Church of Santa Croce
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 77 
 
 is the most noted and by far the most important 
 of any in Florence. Its length is four hundred 
 and sixty feet, and its width one hundred and 
 forty. In this church lie the remains of Michael 
 Angelo. His tomb is ornamented with three 
 figures, representing painting, sculpture and ar- 
 chitecture. Angelo selected the spot where his 
 tomb is located so that he might from it con- 
 template the dome of the cathedral. In this 
 church are also monuments erected to the mem- 
 ory of Dante, Machiavelli, Julia Clary, wife of 
 Joseph Bonaparte, and many more whose names 
 are illustrious in the pages of history. Of the 
 glories of Santa Croce, Byron and others have 
 written in poetic praise. The exact period when 
 this cathedral was erected is not known, but it 
 certainly has a history reaching back a period 
 of more than five hundred years. The letters 
 I. H. S. (lesus Hominum Salvator), now seen in 
 almost all Catholic churches, were first placed in 
 the walls of Santa Croce in the year 1440, 
 after a terrible plague had nearly depopulated 
 Florence. These letters were supposed to pos- 
 sess the miraculous power of causing the pesti- 
 lence to disappear from the city. 
 
 The Church, or Baptistry of San Giovanna, is
 
 78 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 one of the oldest in Florence. In this are bap- 
 tized all the children born in Florence, and as 
 the number is more than four thousand each 
 year, baptisms may be witnessed at all hours of 
 the day. The bronze doors of this building are 
 among the most famous works of art in Flor- 
 ence. These doors contain, in bas-relief, repre- 
 sentations of Bible scenes. So skillfully was this 
 work executed that Michael Angelo declared 
 them "Fit to be the gates of Heaven." The 
 Sagrestia Nuova contains a magnificent monu- 
 ment to "Lorenzo de Medici." This was exe- 
 cuted by Michael Angelo. Just back of the 
 church is a chapel in which most of the Medici 
 family are buried. These walls are magnificently 
 decorated with marble and precious stones. In 
 fact, the entire chapel is rich in precious stones, 
 armorial bearings in mosaic, and frescoes of ex- 
 quisite design and finish. I know of no chapel 
 in Italy more richly adorned and finished than 
 this. 
 
 While attempting to view the churches, pal- 
 aces and other famous edifices in Florence, the 
 old adage, "No rose without a thorn," will often 
 come unbidden to the mind, for here is a city 
 rich in almost everything that can please the
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 79 
 
 taste or help increase the sum of human wisdom. 
 In a day's walk a glance may be had at the 
 works of men famous in their age, above all 
 their fellows. The marks made by the wave of 
 progress, as it rolled along the shores of time, 
 may be observed, and human powers of achieve- 
 ment correctly weighed, but this land of the 
 olive and the vine, this abode of poetic light, 
 this home of art, is not all sunshine and hap- 
 piness. Before altars, adorned with precious 
 stones set in gold, beggars kneel each day, 
 ready to pounce upon the stranger, who for a 
 moment stops to admire a painting or glance 
 at the magnificent adornments so lavishly dis- 
 played. 
 
 A man may face, with cheeks unblanched, the 
 storm of battle, or contemplate unmoved the 
 terrors of an ocean tempest, but when a Flor- 
 ence beggar with uncombed hair, filthy per- 
 son, and garlic-flavored breath, draws near and 
 begins to make an appeal for alms, the bravest 
 will shrink from the onslaught, and, if possi- 
 ble, escape by flight. Ten or twelve energetic, 
 healthy Florentine beggars can aid one amaz- 
 ingly in determining the exact state of his spir- 
 itual condition. The business is chronic here.
 
 8o COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 and it is hard to find where the line of beggary 
 ends and that of respectability begins. I bought 
 some mosaic work of a shop-keeper, and he 
 asked me to make a present to his infant son. 
 A gentleman pointed out to me Angelo's statue 
 of "David with Goliah's Head." I thanked him 
 for this service, but he at once gave me to 
 understand that two cents would be more ac- 
 ceptable. While admiring the spire on the Pa- 
 lazzo Vicchio. a well-dressed man came near, 
 and speaking to me in English remarked that 
 this spire (which projects over the wall and 
 seems just ready to tumble down) had stood as 
 it now stands for almost five hundred years, the 
 building being one of the oldest in Florence. I 
 expressed my gratitude for the information, but 
 was quickly informed that there was a money 
 value of half a franc in it, which was submis- 
 sively paid. Of course I refrained from saying 
 good evening, fearing that a charge would be 
 made for the reply. For the satisfaction of 
 those who expect to travel, in Italy, it may be as 
 well to say that within the past five years beg- 
 ging has been on the decrease, and mendicants 
 are not half so numerous as they were five years 
 ago. That this system of public pauperism may
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 81 
 
 continue to decline, is the wish of all who jour- 
 ney through this land of opulence and splendor. 
 Few Americans visiting- Florence, will fail to 
 call on Hiram Powers. He is by birth a Ver- 
 monter, although his residence has been in Italy 
 more than thirty years. Mr. Powers, as a sculp- 
 tor, ranks second to none now living. His 
 "Greek Slave" did more than any other one 
 piece to make the name of the sculptor famous. 
 A number of these were executed by him, one 
 of which was brought to New York. Thirty 
 years ago a visit to Cincinnati was not consid- 
 ered complete unless the "Infernal Regions," a 
 horrid affair then on exhibition in the city, was 
 examined. Thousands of Western people re- 
 member the "Infernal Regions," but how few 
 there are who are aware of the fact that this 
 work was executed by young Powers, now the 
 famous sculptor. Mr. Powers is a small man, 
 with very expressive, dark eyes. He ever has 
 a kind word for Americans, and is always ready 
 to speak in defense of his own native land. The 
 green hills of Vermont, the house where he was 
 born, and the red school house just below all 
 help to form a picture which is ever bright in 
 the sculptor's memory. I like to pay a tribute
 
 82 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 of respect to the American abroad who never 
 forgets the land in which he was born, and who 
 carries in his heart a love for the flag that waved 
 over him in childhood, but the man who only 
 speaks of his native land to condemn it, is un- 
 deserving of praise and is too small to trouble 
 with censure. 
 
 The early history of Florence, like that of 
 Rome and other Italian cities, is somewhat 
 shrouded in fable. When the power of the 
 Roman Empire was broken, and the Dark Ages 
 enveloped Italy in the sable pall of death, crush- 
 ing out, for more than a thousand years, the 
 spirit of progress and enlightenment, Florence 
 shared the fate of Venfce, Naples, Milan, and 
 other famous Italian cities. In the beginning of 
 the fourteenth century a new era seems to have 
 dawned in the history of Italy, and Florence 
 was not slow to awaken from the long, gloomy 
 night which had so long crushed her energies. 
 Churches and palaces were built. Art revived. 
 Painters and sculptors received the encourage- 
 ment of her princes and rulers. During the 
 reign of the powerful Medici family the most 
 mighty efforts were put forth to adorn and 
 beautify this famous city. The long-buried
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 83 
 
 works of antiquity were uncovered and brought 
 to light. Famous pieces of statuary from Rome 
 and Greece, found their way to Florence, and as 
 year after year rolled on, the city not only grew 
 in size, but each year increased the number of 
 statues, paintings and monuments with which 
 she is now so magnificently adorned. When 
 Europe trembled at the increase of Napoleon's 
 power, Florence was for a season brought under 
 the influence of war. At this time some of her 
 richest treasures in sculpture and painting were 
 carried to Paris, where for years they remained 
 in the possession of the French government. 
 After peace was declared and Napoleon had 
 been banished to the lonely island, these works 
 of art were restored to Florence, and, from that 
 time until this, the fortunes of this city have 
 been swept along upon a continued tide of pros- 
 perity. 
 
 To the scholar, the name of Florence will 
 ever be dear as the home of Angelo, Dante, 
 Machiavelli, and others whose achievements in 
 art and literature have conferred countless ben- 
 efits upon mankind; to the student, the rich 
 galleries of paintings and grand specimens of 
 architecture ever affords food for instruction ;
 
 84 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 while to the sight-seers and seekers after pleas- 
 ure, the city is rich in all those resources which 
 serve to delight the mind and make a visit 
 pleasant. 
 
 I close this letter fully'persuaded that in the 
 future, as now, Florence will continue to be a 
 favorite spot toward which tourists will ever 
 direct their steps.
 
 LETTER X. 
 ITALY 3. 
 
 ROME, Italy, June 25, 1872. 
 A FTER having seen nearly all the great 
 J^\^ cities of the world, I have come to the 
 following conclusion: If I were to select three 
 cities, and only three to visit, those three would 
 be Rome, Naples and London. Other cities it 
 seems quite possible to comprehend and weigh. 
 The traveler visits Vienna, Berlin and Paris, re- 
 mains a time in either and feels that he has 
 exhausted the sights and thoroughly under- 
 stands the extent of them. This is not true in 
 regard to either of the cities first named. 
 
 On entering Rome, in 1867, I felt like devot- 
 ing a week only to this city so famous in the 
 history of mankind. I remained two weeks, 
 visiting churches, wandering amid ruins, and 
 gazing with both wonder and delight upon rare 
 specimens of painting, sculpture, and w r orks of
 
 86 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 both ancient and modern art. On my return 
 from Palestine and Egypt, I again tarried ten 
 days. I am now for the third time a visitor 
 to the imperial old city, and although I have 
 worked hard and tried to comprehend the ob- 
 jects of interest here to be seen, I am forced to 
 the conclusion that I know but little about 
 Rome. So extensive are her ruins, so numerous 
 her temples and churches, and so vast the col- 
 lection of interesting objects, gathered from all 
 lands and in all ages, that no tongue, however 
 eloquent, or pen ably guided, can do justice to 
 the wonders of this the world's great storehouse 
 of antiquity. The best products of Greece in 
 her palmiest days, the finest specimens of 
 ancient Egyptian handiwork taken from tombs 
 gray with the mould of thirty centuries these 
 and the richest of ancient Palestine's art, are all 
 here, distributed among the churches and pal- 
 aces to bewilder and delight the studious trav- 
 eler. 
 
 The first place of interest visited by me, was 
 the Coliseum. This great amphitheater, built 
 by the Emperor Flavian, is large enough to 
 hold an audience of eighty thousand persons, 
 and although more than fifteen centuries have
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 87 
 
 rolled by since its completion and dedication, it 
 has bravely withstood the hands of the despoil- 
 ers as well as the storms of time, and now its 
 immense extent, its grandeur, and the complete- 
 ness of its plans, at once astonish and strike 
 with awe the beholder. I have visited the Coli- 
 seum by moonlight, and although hundreds like 
 myself, were assembled to gaze upon these 
 grand, old walls, there seemed to be a weird- 
 ness, or some sort of mysterious power, awing 
 the beholder and hushing the voices of all. 
 
 Starting from the Coliseum for a day's ride or 
 walk about Rome, we go directly to the Forum, 
 passing on our left the triumphal arch of Con- 
 stantine, and a little further on is the Palatine 
 Hill, with its acres of broken columns and scat- 
 tered ruins. Here are apartments whose pave- 
 ments were made of mosaic, composed of small 
 pieces of verde-antique, porphyry, African mar- 
 ble, lapis lazuli, and other rare stones. Upon 
 these pavements the feet of the Caesars have 
 trod, and in these great halls, Roman multitudes 
 have been gathered to listen to the classic elo- 
 quence of Rome's greatest orators. 
 
 While wandering amid the almost countless 
 apartments, many of them still grand in their
 
 88 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 ruin, one thought will continually come upper- 
 most in the mind, how vastly rich these people 
 must have been in the long-past days of an- 
 tiquity. 
 
 Leaving the gate of Caesar's Palace, a short 
 walk brings us to the ancient Forum. We now 
 stand amid broken columns and gaze upon 
 buildings, many of which had their origin long 
 ages before the first notes of Christianity had 
 been sung among men. 
 
 In this immediate neighborhood, underneath 
 a modern church, we were shown the Mamer- 
 time Prison, in which, it is said, St. Paul and St. 
 Peter suffered captivity. Tradition declares that 
 through the preaching of one of these apostles, 
 the jailor was converted and desired to be bap- 
 tized, water for that purpose miraculously spring- 
 ing forth from the pavement of the dark prison. 
 
 Leaving the Prison and Forum, we will ride 
 rapidlv to the other side of Rome, and visit a 
 few of the more modern temples and palaces 
 with which it is so abundantly supplied. 
 
 On the way we enter the Church of Pietro du 
 Vincoli, and gaze for a few moments on Michael 
 Angelo's statue of Moses. In Angelo's opinion 
 this great law-giver and Israeliteish leader had
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 89 
 
 horns, and he is so represented in the statue. 
 Notwithstanding this seeming defect, this statue 
 ranks among the finest specimens of sculptured 
 art now in existence. The beard is very long, 
 the face intellectual, and the eyes piercing and 
 life-like. 
 
 I have seen nearly all the great statues of 
 ancient and modern times, but I do not at this 
 time remember one the face of which seemed 
 to reveal so much lofty character and majesty 
 of thought as does this, Angelo's great master- 
 piece. 
 
 We cross the Tiber on a bridge built by 
 Hadrian, pass up a narrow street, meeting many 
 beggars, who with clamorous voices, importune 
 us for alms, and as a Roman beggar's breath is 
 unpleasantly flavored with garlic, the few copper 
 coins bestowed upon them is not so much an 
 act of charity as an effort to get rid of an 
 unpleasant perfume. At the head of this street 
 is a square; in the center an obelisk and foun- 
 tains. The obelisk is covered with hierogliphics, 
 and formerly stood in Thebes. Doubtless the 
 singular looking shaft of stone was an object 
 of admiration in Egypt long before Romulus or 
 Remus were born. We now stand before St.
 
 9O COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 Peter's, the largest, the grandest and most noted 
 of all Christian churches upon the face of the 
 globe. St. Peter's always disappoints me in 
 regard to its size, and nothing in or about the 
 church seems so large as it really is. The 
 laughing cherubims at the holy water font ap- 
 pear no larger than great fat babies, yet these 
 little marble children are more than seven feet 
 high, with heads thirty inches in circumference, 
 and those little dimpled hands are far too large 
 for No. 12 gloves. The great dome in appear- 
 ance is not more than thirty feet in diameter; in 
 reality it is one hundred and thirty-five feet. 
 Standing by the entrance door I looked over 
 the marble pavement toward the extreme end of 
 the building, and calculated that sixty steps 
 would be quite sufficient to enable me to reach 
 it; by actual count I found it required more 
 than two hundred good long paces to accom- 
 plish the work. The dimensions of St. Peter's 
 are about as follows: Extreme inside length, 
 six hundred and seventeen feet; length of tran- 
 septs, four hundred and forty-eight feet; outer 
 diameter of the dome, one hundred and ninety- 
 four feet; height from marble floor to top of the 
 copper ball, four hundred and fifty-two feet.
 
 COL. SANl'ORDS LETTERS. 91 
 
 From the ground this ball does not appear 
 larger than a bushel basket, yet there is ample 
 room in it for twelve persons to sit very uncom- 
 fortably. People who are used to our American 
 churches, often ask how many can be seated in 
 St. Peter's, and it may be well to state here that 
 in this, as in other great cathedrals, pews are 
 unknown and the people are expected to stand 
 or kneel during religious service. 
 
 On one occasion I was present at St. Peter's 
 when the Pope took part in the exercises. He 
 was borne on the shoulders of men to the high 
 altars, followed by a procession of cardinals in 
 rich robes of scarlet trimmed with the costliest of 
 lace. Precious stones of fabulous value sparkled 
 on many a finger and gave forth bright scintil- 
 lations of light from amid the folds of costly 
 robes. The whole pageant was grand beyond 
 description, and it was said that on this occasion 
 eighty thousand persons were packed within the 
 body of the monster cathedral, and fifty thou- 
 sand lamps helped to make bright the marble 
 walls, gorgeous altars, and costly adornments of 
 this temple dedicated to the doctrines of Chris- 
 tianity.
 
 LETTER XI. 
 ITALY 4. 
 
 ROME, Italy, June 26, 1872. 
 
 HAVE devoted to-day to visiting the Vatican, 
 the largest and, undoubtedly, the most noted 
 of all the world's great museums. It adjoins St. 
 Peter's, and in the extent of ground covered, 
 rivals it. The buildings, or rather collection of 
 buildings, are irregular in form, about twelve 
 hundred and fifty feet long by eleven hundred 
 in width. It contains altogether not less than 
 thirty-five hundred apartments, ranging in size 
 from galleries seven hundred feet in length, 
 down to the small cabinet not larger than a bed- 
 room, containing some Venus, Adonis, or other 
 rare specimen of sculpture. 
 
 The Vatican in some respects, as a museum, 
 is unquestionably superior to any other on earth. 
 It does not contain so many paintings as the 
 Uffizi or Pitti Palace in Florence, but each work
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 93 
 
 here is a gem from the hands of a master. In 
 one apartment hangs Raphael's "Transfigura- 
 tion," his "Madonna da Foligno," and Domen- 
 ichino's "Communion of St. Jerome." The first 
 and last of these paintings are considered among 
 the finest, if not the finest, in the world. 
 
 I always look with great interest upon the 
 "Transfiguration," on account of the strange his- 
 tory connected with it. It is said that when the 
 great painter began this work he had a premo- 
 nition that it was to be his last. He died before 
 it was finally completed, and the painting was 
 hung at the head of his bier while his body was 
 lying in state. The picture represents Christ 
 with Moses and Elijah, floating in the air. On 
 one side we see nine Apostles, on the other a 
 multitude of people with a crazy boy in their 
 midst, all seeming to be lost in wonder while 
 gazing upon the three who are ascending to- 
 ward the Heavens. Raphael seems to have 
 stepped outside of the beaten paths of other 
 painters in putting the face of Christ upon the 
 canvas, for he gives to his countenance strength 
 and manly character, qualities in which some of 
 the old painters are sadly deficient. 
 
 The "Communion of St. Jerome in the Des-
 
 94 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 ert" is considered by critics second only to the 
 "Transfiguration." In my opinion it ranks with 
 it. The old Saint, pale and wan, while dying in 
 the desert, is in the act of receiving the com- 
 munion. 
 
 The Sistine Chapel connects St. Peter's with 
 the Vatican. This chapel is one hundred and 
 thirty-four feet in length, forty-four in width, 
 and was built in 1472. It has a world-wide 
 fame on account of the fresco upon its walls 
 representing the Last Judgment. This fresco is 
 considered one of Angelo's greatest and best 
 works. I have often wished that I could admire 
 just what others do, but experience tells me that 
 this wish cannot be gratified. To others An- 
 gelo's conception of Christ, angels, good men and 
 bad, as represented by him in this fresco, is de- 
 serving of highest admiration and most unstinted 
 praise, but to me the whole picture is suggestive 
 of coldness and cruelty. The walls are cold, and 
 the deficiency of drapery on the figures suggests 
 the idea of their being cold, while the counten- 
 ance of Christ is unrelieved by a single ray of 
 charity's warmth. It is just such a picture as 
 makes me shudder, and I always feel like leav- 
 ing the cold, dim chapel and wandering amid
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 95 
 
 the more pleasing- paintings or beautiful statues, 
 with which the Vatican so abundantly abounds. 
 
 The hall of sculptured animals is without a 
 rival. Among the best specimens to be seen in 
 this hall, are a beautiful greyhound, a sow with 
 a litter of pigs, a horse attacked by a tiger, and 
 a lamb in the arms of a little child. 
 
 Among the pieces of statuary contained in the 
 Vatican, I will mention the Apollo Belvidere, 
 Laocoon, and the Torso as having a world-wide 
 reputation. These statues are all antiques. In 
 the Laocoon a father is endeavoring to shield 
 himself and two sons from the attack of ser- 
 pents. This statue is so terribly life-like that 
 one can almost fancy he sees the coil of the 
 monsters tighten about the body of the father 
 and his agonized children. The Apollo Belvi- 
 dere represents the ancients' highest ideal of 
 manly beauty. The Torso is one of the famous 
 statues talked of by guide-books and sung of by 
 poets. I think it would be grand if it had a 
 head, two hands and feet, but as it has neither 
 of these useful appendages I fail to get remark- 
 ably enthusiastic over it. 
 
 In the hall of the Greek Cross there are two 
 sarcophagi of red porphyry. These are the
 
 96 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 largest and grandest of the kind now known to 
 exist. One is said to be the tomb of Constan- 
 tine, daughter of Constantine, and the other 
 that of the Empress Helena. One apartment 
 contains a round porphyry basin in perfect pre- 
 servation, forty feet in diameter. It was found 
 in the baths of Diocletian, and is the largest of 
 the kind in the world. 
 
 The Egyptian Museum is rich in antiques, 
 mummies, and other curiosities, all of which 
 help to throw r a light upon the ancient civiliza- 
 tion of Egypt. 
 
 I will here, for a moment, make a digression. 
 In Warwick Castle, England, and in the Tower 
 of London, are shown revolving rifles of the 
 same pattern as Colt's, but which are older than 
 his by several hundred years. The coat of 
 arms of the Isle of Man, is the well-known 
 three human legs, so often seen on the paddle 
 boxes of steamers belonging to that island. 
 To-day, I have seen in the Egyptian Hall, a 
 scarabaeus said to be more than three thousand 
 years old, upon which is carved the three hu- 
 man legs and feet, in a circle precisely like the 
 coat of arms before alluded to. 
 
 The Etruscan Museum of the Vatican is rich
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 97 
 
 in ancient terra cotta work, and is of great inter- 
 est to the student, as here may be studied so 
 satisfactorily, painting on earthen-ware as prac- 
 ticed more than twenty centuries ago. 
 
 We wander through the halls of the Vatican, 
 passing before the well-known statues of Homer, 
 Socrates, Plato, Hadrian, Caesar, and others 
 whose names have shed a luster on the pages 
 of human history. We look upon the wonder- 
 ful achievements of men, in sculpture, painting, 
 and in the manufacture of gold and silver orna- 
 ments realizing that the best products of an- 
 cient times are before us. We grow bewildered 
 at the extent of this great storehouse of human 
 achievement, and when the head is aching and 
 the pulse beats fast, we turn our backs upon 
 St. Peter's and the Vatican, and while walking 
 toward the Tiber the thought expressed by Sol- 
 omon will come stealing over the mind, "There 
 is nothing new under the sun." 
 
 I will close the labors of the day by a visit to 
 the Church of the Capuchins. The brethren of 
 this order are very industrious, zealous and 
 somewhat peculiar. They dress in long, gray 
 robes made of the coarsest cloth, and are very 
 poor indeed. Underneath the church is the
 
 98 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 burial-place of the order. Here a monk is bur- 
 ied when the arduous duties of his life are 
 ended. His bloody carcass is placed under the 
 soil to repose for a season only. Dust returns 
 to dust. After a few years, when Mother Na- 
 ture has taken the flesh from the bones, the 
 latter are dug up and arranged in festoons about 
 the place grinning, ghastly skeletons. Some 
 with long robes wrapped around them are here 
 displayed by hundreds, while great piles of hu- 
 man bones are stacked against the walls. A 
 mouldy smell fills the place, and grave-yard sug- 
 gestions come floating over the senses. 
 In silence we leave the place.
 
 LETTER XII. 
 ITALY 5. 
 
 ROME, Italy, June 27, 1872. 
 'HIS has been a busy day. Early in the 
 morning we hired a carriage and were 
 driven at once to the Church of St. John, of 
 Lateran. This church stands upon a spot of 
 ground which was given by the Emperor Con- 
 stantine to the Bishop of Rome. In its rights 
 and prerogatives it has advantages superior to 
 those of St. Peter's, or any other church or ca- 
 thedral. It has one chapel in which none but 
 the Pope can say mass. In this cathedral all the 
 great councils of the Catholic church have been 
 held, and all the Popes have been crowned 
 during the past one thousand years. The high 
 altar is a magnificent work of art and dates from 
 the fourteenth century. In this is a table of 
 wood upon which, tradition says, the Last Sup- 
 per was eaten.
 
 IOO COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 
 
 Directly opposite the Lateran is the Church 
 of Santa Scala, or Sacred Stairs. These stairs 
 are said to have been the ones upon which 
 Christ ascended into Pilate's judgment hall. Up 
 those old steps none can go unless they make 
 the ascent upon their knees. There is a flight 
 on either side of these sacred ones, up which we 
 were permitted to walk erect. 
 
 From here we made a hurried drive to the 
 Church of St. Marie Maggiore, another of 
 Rome's most famous churches. It has a beauti- 
 ful interior, and the carving of its ceiling reveals 
 superior workmanship. The gilding, which is of 
 gold, is of exquisite finish. It was the gift of 
 Ferdinand and Isabella to Pope Alexander VI., 
 and is thought to have been the first gold 
 brought from the mines of South America to 
 Spain. In this church are mosaics said to be 
 among the earliest examples of mosaic work 
 wrought since the introduction of Christianity. 
 Underneath the high altar are preserved some 
 boards which the tradition of the church de- 
 clares are from the manger in which Christ was 
 born at Bethlehem. 
 
 The present Pope of Rome, will be buried in 
 this church, and the mausoleum prepared for his
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. IO1 
 
 final resting-place, is one of the most beautiful 
 pieces of handiwork that can possibly be im- 
 agined. 
 
 Leaving the Church of St. Maria Maggiore, 
 a short ride brings us to the gate-way of St. 
 Sebastian, and out on the Appian Way. As we 
 pass outside the walls of this famous old road- 
 way, we see off to the right, the Tomb of 
 Scipio ; to the left, a little way out, the Colum- 
 baria, said to contain the remains of many of 
 Pompey's family. 
 
 This Columbaria, or collection of tombs, de- 
 serves more than a passing notice. It is a 
 square pit, thirty feet long by twenty-five wide, 
 and thirty feet in depth, built of massive 
 masonry, the walls of which are honey-combed 
 to make room for jars or urns made of earthen- 
 ware. In these urns the remains of the dead are 
 supposed to have been deposited. 
 
 About four miles from the gate of St. Sebas- 
 tian, on the left of the Appian Way, stands a 
 massive stone structure which looks like a castle 
 built in feudal times. This structure is known 
 as the Tomb of Cecilia Metella, and is one of 
 the best preserved of the ancient buildings in 
 and about Rome.
 
 IO2 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 Returning toward the city, about half-way to 
 the gate, our driver stops and we prepare to 
 enter the most extensive of Roman Catacombs. 
 We pass through a small wicket gate into a 
 meadow, walk a few steps and come to a flight 
 of stairs leading directly down into a pit appar- 
 ently about thirty feet in depth. At the bottom 
 of this pit an attendant guide gives to my com- 
 panion and myself, each a roll of waxed cotton 
 twine. These are the tapers which are to light 
 us through the dark underground labyrinths. 
 Unfortunately for our peace of mind, we had 
 not more than started along the dark paths, be- 
 fore discovering that our guide was decidedly 
 drunk; rapidly he led the way, turning to the 
 right, and to the left, journeying along what 
 seemed to be interminable passages with tomb- 
 like shelves in the chalky earth on either side. 
 
 I think that our entire walk was not less than 
 three miles through these labyrinthian mazes. 
 My companion grew uneasy, and I was far from 
 being satisfied with the situation. At times the 
 guide would pause, point to some unusually pre- 
 tentious tomb, and tell us in Italian, its history, 
 and it is quite easy to conceive of situations 
 more pleasant than to be lost in the depths of
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 1 03 
 
 the earth, with a drunken guide apparently un- 
 certain of his way, and nothing but dim tapers 
 to light us through the mazes of the subterra- 
 nean avenues. At length, after my light and 
 my companion's had been entirely burned up, 
 our guide turned about and showed us that his 
 would last but a few moments longer. I felt for 
 a moment that our situation was quite critical. 
 But in this instance, as it often happens in life's 
 history, when the darkness seemed deepest, 
 light was just ahead, for our staggering guide 
 brought us to a flight of stairs which led us up 
 into the pure air and sunshine. In these Cata- 
 combs thousands of the early Christian martyrs 
 were buried, and the entire number who have 
 here found graves can only be estimated by 
 millions. 
 
 And now, to me, it would be a pleasure to 
 again visit the gorgeously beautiful Church of 
 St. Paul, outside the walls, which is only a few 
 miles from the Catacombs, but time flies and I 
 must be on the wing again in a few hours. 
 
 Out of Rome's three hundred and sixty-five 
 churches, I have at this time visited not more 
 than fifteen. At the columns of Trojan and An- 
 tonius, I have only glanced. Beneath the open
 
 IO4 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 dome of the Pantheon I have stood for a few 
 moments, contemplating- the spot where Ra- 
 phael's body was entombed. This grand, old 
 temple, which has withstood the ravages of time 
 for more than two thousand years, seems to 
 form an appropriate resting-place for the body 
 of the world's most gifted painter. 
 
 I have climbed the steps of the famous Capi- 
 tol and passed through the gate -way at which 
 stands the noted statues of Castor and Pollox. 
 Inside the walls of the Capitol one almost trem- 
 bles with emotion while admiring the statue of 
 the Dying Gladiator. Oh, how natural is the 
 growing faintness of the dying man made to 
 appear in the cold marble. A person almost 
 feels like stretching forth the hand to stanch the 
 
 o 
 
 blood, which appears to flow from the breast of 
 the athlete who is slowly sinking under the 
 touch of death. 
 
 The Venus, known as the Venus of the Capi- 
 tol, will always challenge my admiration for a 
 few moments, limited as time with me may be. 
 This statue, along with Pliny's Doves, in mosaic, 
 and the Dying Gladiator, always attract atten- 
 tion and rank among the best productions of 
 ancient art.
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 105 
 
 And now, good bye, Rome ! thou city of 
 wonderful history and mighty power; how varied 
 thy fortunes have been. At one time the arm 
 of thy strength swept with the besom of de- 
 struction over Palestine, and the eagles on thy 
 banners were borne aloft amid the ruins of He- 
 brew temples and along the desolate streets of 
 the once powerful Jerusalem. Thy victorious 
 hosts have proudly marched through the land 
 where Homer sang and philosophy flourished. 
 Many a fair Ionian isle has been made to mourn 
 at the tread of thy unconquered legions. Egypt, 
 old with forty centuries of history, has been 
 made to bow her head and humbly submit to 
 the mandates which came from thy Forum. As 
 time rolls on, a dark curtain falls between thee 
 and prosperity. From beyond the Alps comes 
 pouring down the Northmen; thy power is 
 broken; and while thy streets are red with the 
 blood of Romans, thy noblest temples and 
 grandest works of art and architecture are made 
 to crumble before the destroying touch of the 
 Goth and Vandal. 
 
 The tocsin of time tolls the funeral dirge of 
 Rome's greatness, and the long, dark years ' of 
 ages sweep on. At length the black era of
 
 io6 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 night is broken, and the light of civilization 
 gives new life to Roman history. Art begins to 
 flourish, old works are cleared away, and Rome, 
 with new energy, begins to keep time with the 
 march of progress. The last products of former 
 ages are sought for, and while the genius of the 
 past four hundred years has been giving to the 
 Imperial City its best fruits, old baths, temples 
 and palaces have been unearthed, and the hid- 
 den treasures of long ago brought forth to help 
 adorn the old city and add to her store of at- 
 tractions. 
 
 Raphael, Angelo, Titian, Guido, and a host of 
 the world's most famous sons have enriched, by 
 their art, her palaces, and made beautiful her 
 grandest churches, and now it may be said as it 
 was in the golden age of long ago, ''Rome, the 
 city of seven hills, is a spot rich enough in at- 
 tractions to gladden the heart of the wisest." 
 
 o
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 ITALY 6. 
 
 NAPLES, Italy, June 29, 1872. 
 .ROM Rome by rail, to this city, the time is 
 only eight hours. Rapidly as the journey 
 is made, time is afforded while sweeping along, 
 for viewing many a fair landscape, and from the 
 moment the last view is caught of the broken 
 aqueducts and ruined walls, which so thickly 
 abound in the vicinity of Rome, until the smoky 
 summit of Vesuvius is seen, the traveler is 
 treated to a continuous panorama made up of 
 mountain and valley, grassy plains, olive-covered 
 slopes and walled cities, the whole moving with 
 almost lightning velocity and giving time for a 
 rapid glance at some of the most classic por- 
 tions of Italy. 
 
 Marvelously beautiful as is the situation of 
 Naples, with its golden sunsets and sapphire 
 skies, and much as poets have delighted to sing
 
 io8 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 of its deep-blue bay, its mountains and fairy 
 islands, to me it has never been a place of great 
 interest when separated from that wonderful his- 
 tory which reaches so far back into the dim 
 twilight of the past. 
 
 The streets of Naples are dirty, and in most 
 instances, narrow. Begging is made a science 
 of, and practiced by a multitude whose number 
 runs far into the tens of thousands. Mosquitos 
 do not withdraw their attentions even during 
 the winter months. Hotel-keepers, shopmen, 
 and carriage-drivers all seem to regard the 
 stranger as legitimate prey. The inhabitants of 
 Naples seem to have been born constitutionally 
 tired, and early manifest a stronger inclination 
 toward idleness than work. The manufacture 
 of coral into jewelry is a specialty of the city, 
 and the shop windows, where it is sold, are 
 adorned with beautiful specimens of this costly 
 ornament. The pale pink varieties are the most 
 prized, and some rare specimens are worth many 
 times their weight in gold. If an attempt be 
 made to buy of this, or anything else that is 
 sold in Naples, the discovery will soon be made 
 that the price asked for an article is no criterion 
 of the sum expected to be obtained. If two-
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 1 09 
 
 thirds less than the price demanded, is offered, 
 the merchant at once shrugs his shoulders as 
 only an Italian can, and tells you that to accept 
 would be to bring the pangs of starvation to his 
 children and financial ruin to himself, but after 
 a dignified delay, he at length takes the price 
 offered, and the purchaser not unfrequently finds 
 that even that is twice what should have been 
 paid. 
 
 One of the chief articles of manufacture and 
 consumption here is maccaroni, and while driv- 
 ing along the dusty streets we see vast quanti- 
 ties of it drying under sheds prepared for the 
 purpose. The coarser, cheaper sort is about the 
 only food of the Lazzaroni, who at all hours may 
 be seen in groups eating this peculiar paste. 
 What rice is to the natives of Japan and China, 
 maccaroni is to the people of Naples. But I 
 am not disposed to interfere with the domestic 
 regulations or customs of this sunny land. I 
 prefer to see and write about the cities and cus- 
 toms of the long ago, and within a few miles of 
 this spot advantages are afforded for studying 
 the daily lives and habits of those who first 
 planted the germ of civilization upon the shores 
 of Europe.
 
 I IO COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 Let the shores of the Bay of Naples be rep- 
 resented by a half-circle, with Naples in the 
 center of the arc, facing the water. To the left 
 are Pompeii and Herculaneum, those silent cit- 
 ies of the dead. The first is about sixteen miles 
 from Naples, Herculaneum is not more than 
 seven. If, instead of going to Pompeii from 
 Naples, a journey be made to the right of it, 
 around the bay, a few hours' ride brings us to 
 Pozzuoli, with its Temple of Serapis, the Villa of 
 Cicero; the Villa Banli, once the home of Nero; 
 Biea, famous in the time of Cicero; Cumae, the 
 most ancient of all the Greek colonies of Italy; 
 Lake Lucrine and Lake Avernis being in the 
 immediate neighborhood. The entire distance 
 from Pompeii to Cumae, is not above thirty 
 miles, yet around this circle have occurred some 
 of the grandest events ever known in ancient his- 
 tory. Here we may see the ruins of that stately 
 villa once occupied by the renowned Cicero. 
 We may enter temples whose foundations were 
 laid long before the foundation of Rome. We 
 may see tombs opened at Cumae from whence 
 golden broaches, rings and vases were taken, 
 which, in exquisite finish and workmanship, rival 
 the best productions of modern times.
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. I I I 
 
 In Pompeii we walk through street after 
 street, over pavements as old as the times of 
 Caesar, and as perfect as in the days when Ro- 
 man chariots rolled over them. On the walls of 
 buildings we see frescoes which, in coloring, 
 rival the glory of the rainbow. From an apoth- 
 ecary's shop, recently unearthed, glass vases 
 were taken which, in design and delicacy of fin- 
 ish, are equal to the best which Venetian artists 
 now produce. Tear bottles are found, so deli- 
 cate and thin that the slightest blow will shatter 
 them into a thousand pieces, yet these are the 
 products of two thousand years ago. 
 
 In the Pyramids of Egypt, the Acropolis of 
 Athens, the Pantheon and aqueducts of Rome, 
 may be seen evidences of the concentrated 
 power and energy of nations. In Pompeii are 
 a few temples, theaters and amphitheaters which 
 tell the story of united power, but to me the 
 great interest about this city is, that it affords an 
 opportunity to study the individual efforts and 
 private lives of men in the olden times. We 
 enter the bed-chambers of a house, or its bath- 
 room, its kitchen or reception-room; we admire 
 the painting on the walls, still fresh and untar- 
 nished by time's touch, and learn how families
 
 I I 2 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 lived two thousand years ago. In the store of 
 an oil merchant, great earthen jars are seen, 
 either of which will contain many barrels. These 
 jars were the receptacles of oil when the black 
 storm fell, destroying at once his business, home 
 and the city. This storm of ashes, which fell 
 upon Pompeii in the year 79, seems to have 
 covered up the city in such a manner as to pre- 
 serve for the enlightenment of future genera- 
 tions the page of Pompeiian inner life, intact 
 and readable. 
 
 The influences of a visit to Pompeii are well 
 calculated to curb the egotistic pretensions of a 
 person, let his occupation be what it may. If he 
 be a goldsmith he will find that one of the effects 
 of unearthing the old city has been to bring to 
 light specimens of the ancient goldsmiths' art, 
 and the beautiful Etruscan designs, as well as 
 the rare finish of the jewelry found, tells the story 
 of ancient skill, and shows it to have been quite 
 equal to the best efforts of the present. Friar 
 Bacon, no doubt, died believing himself to be the 
 discoverer of glass. Hundreds of years after this 
 monk's death, the discoverer in Pompeii revealed 
 the fact that glass of. perfect quality was in use 
 more than a thousand years before Friar Bacon
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. I I 3 
 
 was born. The idea of how well objects have 
 been preserved in Pompeii can best be under- 
 stood by this statement: I have, to-day, seen 
 rice, wheat, barley, eggs, bread, roasted pig, 
 parchment, jars containing oil and water, all in a 
 state of perfect preservation. Strong safes have 
 been found, locks and keys, patterns for dresses; 
 in fact, with the exception of telegraphs, evi- 
 dences of the use of steam and printing presses, 
 it is dfficult to call to mind anything now in use, 
 specimens of which may not be found in the city 
 of Pompeii. 
 
 When I was here five years ago, but few labor- 
 ers were at work in the excavations. I saw an 
 oven opened and obtained from it a small piece 
 of bread which I have prized most highly. Now 
 there are about two. hundred persons constantly 
 engaged in removing the ashes from this long- 
 buried city, and I find it impossible, for love or 
 money, to obtain any of the old relics now being 
 discovered. There is room enough in Pompeii 
 already unearthed to contain fifty thousand per- 
 sons. The temple and works of art furnish evi- 
 dence of the city's former great wealth, and I 
 believe it is a well-received opinion by scholars, 
 that this place was never one noted for its com-
 
 114 COL - SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 merce, but was rather a spot where rich people 
 delighted to live in the luxurious splendor which 
 universally belonged to the Roman Empire two 
 thousand years ago. On the walls of some 
 houses signs are seen and inscriptions read 
 which do not serve to increase one's faith in the 
 virtue of Pompeii's former residents. 
 
 Most persons who visit Italy, Palestine, Greece 
 and Egypt, have a strong desire to obtain some 
 relic as a memento of the journey, but when it is 
 known that every ancient spot is flooded with 
 counterfeit antiques made to sell, the chances 
 seem small for procuring a veritable work of the 
 olden time. At Karnak, in Egypt, I found a large 
 quantity of mummy ornaments which had been 
 made to sell to travelers. Most of them were 
 made by a Yankee bearing the strange name of 
 Smith. In Ceylon I was offered great numbers 
 of so-called precious stones, most of which were 
 manufactured in Birmingham, England. On the 
 battlefield of Waterloo plenty of old buttons 
 were offered, which the owner claimed were 
 relics of the great struggle. Bushels of these 
 are buried from time to time, and after a few 
 years, dug up and sold to tourists as genuine. 
 These, too, are of English manufacture. In
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. I I 5 
 
 Naples and vicinity the bogus curiosity business 
 affords no small revenue to the persons engaged 
 in it. But while so many spurious curios are 
 made and sold, it does not destroy the fact that 
 there are plenty of genuine antiques obtainable, 
 as not a day passes in which these objects are 
 not found, either in Pompeii or Cumae, or some 
 place along the shores of the classic bay. 
 
 At Cumae, I saw the workmen remove the 
 masonry of an old Etruscan tomb, and take 
 from it among other relics, four little pieces of 
 metal, all covered with the dust of twenty cen- 
 turies. I offered one hundred francs for the lot, 
 which was accepted on the spot. When cleaned, 
 these long-buried treasures proved to be a 
 broach and three rings, made of the purest gold, 
 and weighing more than the money I paid for 
 them. I have refused an offer of five hundred 
 francs for them, and feel that I possess in them, 
 veritable antiques. Doubtless there are plenty 
 of vases, broaches and other articles, for sale in 
 the city, just as old and genuine as mine, for 
 some of the dealers in these things, stand high 
 among business men, and I have no reason to 
 doubt their honesty. 
 
 With a reasonable show of that judgment
 
 1 1 6 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 which is born of experience, I think a person 
 might be quite certain of obtaining the veritable 
 coins, beads, and other specimens of ancient 
 handicraft, and it is well ever to remember, the 
 fact of there being counterfeits always presup- 
 poses the existence of the genuine.
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 ITALY 7. 
 
 NAPLES, Italy, July i, 1872. 
 HIS is pre-eminently a time when men de- 
 mand that ideas shall be presented in as 
 compact a form as is possible. Reading men 
 and women do not like to be compelled to read 
 a page in order to obtain that which should be 
 compressed in a single line. Beat your ideas into 
 the compactness of steel, and polish the steel if 
 you will, is the demand of the present age. 
 Time will not permit me to write long letters, 
 did I feel disposed so to do, I therefore refrain 
 from expressing opinions in regard to kings and 
 rulers, and have but little to say concerning the 
 history of the countries through which I pass. 
 I would not, while in Europe, Asia, or Africa, 
 write peans of praise in regard to any form of 
 religion, nor endeavor to point out the faults or 
 show the virtues of rulers in whose dominions it
 
 1 1 8 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 is my fortune to tarry but a limited time. When 
 I feel disposed to find a government which will 
 best please me, and institutions most congenial 
 to my own tastes, I will cease writing letters from 
 abroad, and direct my steps toward that land 
 which I love best and most, and under whose 
 government I hope to live and die. In these 
 letters I propose only to describe that which 
 comes under my own personal observation, 
 choosing what seems to be of the most general 
 
 interest. 
 
 * 
 
 Yesterday I witnessed a scene which, to me, 
 w r as one of the strangest I ever beheld. I at- 
 tended a funeral, or rather a burial, at the 
 Campo Santo Vicchio, which is the cemetery of 
 the Neapolitan poor. This grave-yard is a per- 
 fect square, surrounded by a high stone wall, 
 and contains about one acre of ground. It is 
 paved with great square blocks of stone. Un- 
 derneath this pavement there are three hundred 
 and sixty-five cells, perfectly square, and each 
 separated from the others by a stone wall. A 
 square block is made to fit and seal up the mouth 
 of each of these pits. Each day in the year one 
 pit is opened, and the accumulated dead of that 
 day are thrown into the pit, which is sealed up
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. I 19 
 
 at sun-down for another year. The dead are 
 brought in, sometimes on the shoulders of their 
 friends, sometimes on the backs of donkeys, 
 and often a fond mother or father may be seen 
 carrying the small box containing the little body 
 of the loved one to this most dismal burial-place. 
 My companion and myself were on the spot 
 at 3 o'clock on yesterday afternoon and re- 
 mained an hour or more. The dead were placed 
 first in little recesses prepared for the purpose in 
 the wall. At 6 o'clock we witnessed the final bur- 
 ial. Twenty-six boxes were ranged around the 
 mouth of the pit; a priest drew near, put on his 
 ministerial robes, and performed the appropriate 
 funeral rites of the church. Most of the bodies 
 were those of children. One little child, appar- 
 ently about three years old, had a rope around 
 its body and a small bunch of fresh flowers en- 
 twined in its hair. No doubt, in some poor 
 hovel a fond mother had, in her humble way, 
 endeavored to make such a provision for her 
 child's burial as would rob the grave of some of 
 its terrors. This .child was lifted carefully by 
 the attendant, and its little form lowered with 
 the rope down among the half-consumed bodies 
 which had been thrown into the pit just one
 
 I 2O COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 year before. The others were tumbled in pell- 
 mell, uncoffined, and, to all appearances, uncared 
 for. As each body struck the bottom of the pit, 
 the dull sound came back to my ears where it 
 lingers yet. In fact, the whole scene is before 
 
 me now, like the vision of some terrible night- 
 
 i 
 mare. I know that the dead can feel no pain, 
 
 and whether buried in the ocean's blue depths, 
 on the Hindoo's funeral pile, the Parsee's Tower 
 of Silence, where the vultures tear the flesh, or 
 in the pit of the poor here, it is all one to the 
 lifeless dust. Yet for me and mine the prayer 
 ever burns on the altar of my heart: Let my 
 final resting-place be where the grass may grow, 
 the leafy shadows fall, and the hand of affection 
 strew flowers upon the turf which covers the 
 clay where the spirit once dwelt. The carriages 
 which conveyed the bodies of the rich to the 
 more pretentious cemetery of Campo Santa 
 Nuora, are almost entirely covered with gold- 
 leaf, and are as massive in structure as the state 
 carriages belonging to the courts of some Euro- 
 pean sovereign. Upon the whole, the citizens 
 of Naples, and nearly all Italians, appear quite 
 indifferent as to the burial of their dead, and 
 those many visits and kind attentions which are
 
 COL. SANFOKI) S I.KTTKRS. 121 
 
 paid to the last resting-place of friends by 
 French, English and Americans, are compara- 
 tively unknown and unthought of here. 
 
 Naples, in churches, is almost as rich as Rome, 
 containing, as it does, nearly three hundred, but 
 after seeing the cathedrals of Milan, Florence 
 and Rome, the best specimens here seem quite 
 tame. Yet in one of these is celebrated one 
 of the most noted ceremonies of the Catholic 
 church, namely, the liquifaction of the blood of 
 St. Januarius. It is said that this saint was at 
 one time exposed, in the amphitheater of Poz- 
 zuoli, to destruction by lions, in accordance 
 with the order of the Emperor Diocletian. The 
 wild beasts refused to eat the dinner so offered, 
 but crouched submissively at his feet. After- 
 ward he was beheaded, and although more than 
 fifteen hundred years have since elapsed, his 
 blood, preserved in two earthen jars or vials, 
 miraculously liquifies twice each year in the 
 presence of thousands, gathered to do honor to 
 the memory of this early Christian martyr. One 
 of the small churches contains two beautiful 
 statues a Veiled Christ, and Neptune entangled 
 in a net. The veil on the first is so perfect and 
 gossamer-like in appearance that it is difficult to
 
 I 2 2 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 believe it to be only cold marble. The meshes 
 entwined about the old Sea God have certainly 
 been wrought by the hand of a master, and the 
 sense of touch only convinces the mind that this, 
 too, is marble, and carved out of the same block 
 which forms the body of the statue. 
 
 We will now take a hasty glance at the Museo 
 Naizonale (National Museum) of Naples. This 
 museum contains the best collection of Pom- 
 peiian curiosities and bronzes from Hercula- 
 neum, that is known to exist. It is also rich in 
 coins, statues, vases, jewelry and other antiques, 
 from Cumae, Baiae, and various places around 
 the shores of the bay. The same train of 
 thought which comes to the mind while viewing 
 the streets, ruined temples, and works of an- 
 tiquity in Pompeii, arises when we endeavor to 
 view the many objects of interest found in the 
 various galleries and apartments of this mu- 
 seum. Without attempting to classify, or refer- 
 ring to the number of the apartments in which 
 different objects are stored, I will simply men- 
 tion a few which have more particularly attracted 
 my attention. 
 
 In the Hall of Bronzes I noticed a horse found 
 in Herculaneum, a Venus arranging her hair, a
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 123 
 
 youthful Bacchus, a beautiful statue of Demos- 
 thenes, and Apollo playing- the lyre. This last 
 figure was found in Pompeii. Near this are three 
 dancing women from the theater at Hercula- 
 neum. In this collection is a gladiator's helmet, 
 beautifully ornamented in bas-relief. In one 
 corner is a bust of Sulla. In another apart- 
 ment is seen a collection of parchment rolls 
 found in a villa near Herculaneum. Modern 
 science devised a way by which these rolls 
 were deciphered. They were found to contain 
 a voluminous treatise on epicurean philosophy, 
 and are of but little interest to the world now. 
 
 Among the precious relics shown, is a vessel 
 of onyx beautifully carved, the largest of the 
 kind known to exist. This is supposed to have 
 been brought from Egypt to Pompeii, long prior 
 to the destruction of that famous city. Here, 
 too, are silver chains, bracelets, ear-rings, and a 
 necklace of most beautiful workmanship, which 
 were found on a female skeleton in the house 
 of Diomede, in Pompeii. 
 
 Precious stones, many of them beautifully 
 carved, are here displayed and were mostly 
 found in the ruins of Pompeii and Cumae. 
 Panes of glass from the villa of Diomede, and a
 
 I 24 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 cut-glass vase ornamented with cupid and foli- 
 age on a blue ground, from a grave in Pompeii. 
 This last is one of the most interesting objects 
 to be seen in the museum. An elegant jewel 
 case from Cumae, contains several golden orna- 
 ments of the kind before named. The kneeling 
 figure of Atlass, with the world upon his shoul- 
 ders, is an object of great interest and supposed 
 to be as old as the Christian era. 
 
 The collection of terra cotta work is very ex- 
 tensive and contains many vases and specimens 
 of earthenware, of Etruscan, Greek and Roman 
 workmanship. The figures painted on many of 
 these, display wonderful design and rare finish. 
 Among the subjects chosen heads of Jove, bat- 
 tles between Greeks and Amazons, Mytholog- 
 ical Gods, Venuses and Chained Captives largely 
 abound. 
 
 The collection of coins is one of the most ex- 
 tensive in Europe, containing, as it does, speci- 
 mens of all nations, and of all ages. Here are 
 coins from Babylon, doubtless in use when that 
 city was in the height of her glory ; large gold 
 pieces are they, rude in coinage, yet bearing the 
 stamp of three thousand years ago. Greek 
 coins, in use before Homer sang, and money
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 125 
 
 from the tombs of Egyptian princes, may here 
 be seen along with Hebrew shekels older than 
 the songs of David or the prophecies of Isaiah. 
 Oh ! what a flood of light such a collection 
 throws upon the handiwork and skill of human- 
 ity in the different ages of human history. 
 
 The collection of paintings in this museum, is 
 not so extensive as may be found elsewhere, 
 but some of the best works of the old masters 
 are here, and it is a pleasing collection to ex- 
 amine, as the pictures are advantageously hung 
 in regard to the effect of light and shade. Here 
 is a Madonna, and Holy Family, by Raphael ; 
 portraits of Paul III. and Phillip II., by Titian ; 
 Christ's Descent from the Cross, by Correggio ; 
 The Seven Blind Men, by Brenghel ; St. Jerome 
 Taking a Thorn from the Foot of a Lame Lion, 
 by Van Eyck. These are a few gems selected 
 at random from among hundreds of great beauty, 
 many of which bear marks of skill, such as only 
 the old masters possessed. 
 
 One apartment in this museum is only to be 
 visited by the sterner sex. It contains a collec- 
 tion of obscene trash from Pompeii, a view of 
 which seems to deepen the impression that the 
 city was not destroyed one day too soon. In
 
 126 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 this room in Pompeii, in Baiae, and other local- 
 ities near the ancients have left evidence, 
 carved in stone, painted on walls and stamped 
 in bronze, which have a tendency to make us 
 receive with doubts the oft-heard sentiment, 
 "The world grows worse and worse."
 
 LETTER XV. 
 RUSSIA. 
 
 GENEVA, Switzerland, July 20, 1872. 
 CURING the past fifteen days I have done 
 ^^) some of the fastest traveling of my life. 
 Leaving London on the 5th of July, I sped rap- 
 idly across Europe, directly to St. Petersburg, 
 thence to Moscow, and this morning, tired and 
 worn out, I find "myself in the gem city of the 
 Alps. It is quite easy for me now to realize 
 how men sometimes find it so difficult to write 
 letters when there is so much to be said, and 
 glide along easily when there is but little. The 
 question with me is, how to compress a large 
 amount into a small space. Although I tarried 
 but one day in St. Petersburg and two in Mos- 
 cow, either city furnished enough material in 
 the way of sight-seeing, to fill a letter of twice 
 the length which this is designed to be. 
 
 The tide of American travel seems to flow
 
 128 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 East by way of France, Switzerland and Italy, 
 terminating in Egypt and Palestine, while Amer- 
 ican tourists through Russia are comparatively 
 few. 
 
 Of course, I cannot write very knowingly of 
 either St. Petersburg or Moscow, as I know less 
 of these than of any other of the great cities in 
 Europe. Yet my limited experience tells me 
 that Russia is one of the most interesting coun- 
 tries, as well as the largest, to be visited on the 
 continent of Europe. In extent of territory she 
 reminds me of our own mighty West. Her for- 
 ests of pine and fir are not unlike those of 
 Wisconsin and Minnesota. Her immense plains 
 recall to mind the glories of the prairies. Her 
 climate is wonderfully diversified, and her re- 
 sources in marble, precious stones and minerals, 
 almost incalculable. The railroads in Russia are 
 equal to the very best in England or France. 
 Her large, roomy railway carriages are superior 
 in comfort to any that I have seen in Europe. 
 Take it all in all, Russia is one of the most 
 pleasant countries to travel in that I have yet 
 found. 
 
 St. Petersburg, the capital, contains a popula- 
 tion of about five hundred thousand inhabitants.
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. I 29 
 
 It is situated on the river Neva, and was founded 
 in the year 1702. In some respects St. Peters- 
 burg- is not unlike Chicago. It has arisen from 
 amid those northern marshes, and its great pal- 
 aces of marble and granite rest on foundations 
 sunk deep in the oozy soil. Few cities in Europe 
 can compare with this Russian metropolis as to 
 the number or extent of palaces and public build- 
 ings. Among the great cities of Europe she 
 ranks as the youngest sister. Her picture gal- 
 leries are not equal to those of Rome, Dresden 
 or Madrid, but her great Gallery or Museum of 
 Art, known as the Hermitage, will compare 
 favorably with the best to be found in those 
 cities. The best works of Raphael, Guido, 
 Titian and Correggio, of course, are not here, 
 but these masters are all represented in this 
 gallery by works of superior merit. Here is 
 Raphael's Holy Family, which cost $35,000; 
 Murillo's Martyrs; Guide's Europa; and Abra- 
 ham Offering up His Son Isaac, by Rembrandt. 
 These paintings are well-known and have high 
 rank among the masterpieces of art. 
 
 The Michaeloff Palace was built by the Em- 
 peror Paul at an expense of more than $12,- 
 000,000. It is a gloomy looking place, built of
 
 I 30 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 granite, but the interior is most magnificently 
 furnished. The Emperor Paul died in this pal- 
 ace, and the room in which he breathed his last 
 is walled up, in accordance with that peculiar 
 Russian custom which leads them to forever 
 close a room in which a parent has died. 
 
 The palace erected for the Grand Duke Mi- 
 chael, in 1820, is the most magnificent of all 
 the palaces in St. Petersburg, and for richness 
 of decoration and finish, it is not surpassed 
 in Europe. Stair-cases of beautiful green mala- 
 chite, pavements rich in lapis lazula and rare 
 marbles, chandeliers immense in size and of gor- 
 geous finish, rare paintings and furniture, the 
 richest that thought can devise or human hands 
 execute, are here to adorn with more than Ori- 
 ental magnificence this superb palace. 
 
 The statue of Peter the Great is of rare merit. 
 The sovereign is represented as in the act of 
 riding up a steep hill. His head is uncovered 
 and crowned with a wreath of laurels. The 
 statue stands on an immense block of granite, 
 said to weigh more than one thousand tons. 
 
 The monument erected in honor of the Em- 
 peror Alexander is the most massive work of the 
 kind in existence. This monument is a single
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 13! 
 
 stone, like that of Pompey's Pillar, in Alexan- 
 dria. It is thirteen feet in diameter and more 
 than eighty feet in height. The material of 
 which it is composed is of red granite. The pe- 
 destal bears this inscription: "To Alexander I. 
 Grateful Russia." 
 
 In the Monastery of St. Alexander Nevskoi 
 is a tomb erected to the memory of the saint 
 whose name the monastery bears. The tomb is 
 made of solid sterling silver, and intrinsically 
 worth more than $125,000. Whether this costly 
 tomb enables the saint to enjoy his present 
 abode more than a less pretentious one, is a 
 problem which I will not here undertake to solve. 
 
 In providing for the wants of the unfortunates 
 of its population, St. Petersburg ranks second 
 to no other city. Catharine II. founded her 
 foundling hospital in the year 1770. It covers 
 nearly thirty acres of ground, and accommo- 
 dates six thousand persons, at an annual expense 
 of about $6,000,000. This hospital is supported 
 by the revenue from the sale of playing cards 
 and the income of the Lombard Bank. From 
 these two sources an ample endowment is de- 
 rived. 
 
 One of the most delightful journeys that can
 
 132 COL.' SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 be made in Europe, is that from St. Petersburg 
 to Moscow. The distance is four hundred miles 
 and the journey, by express, is accomplished in 
 a trifle less than ten hours. 
 
 To a person familiar with Constantinople, 
 Cairo, London and Paris, Moscow seems to be 
 a strange combination of all. The minarets, 
 towers, gaudy colors and massive domes, are 
 much like those seen in Oriental cities, while 
 the architecture of business houses, palaces and 
 bridges, is decidedly European. Moscow was 
 founded in the twelfth century, and although 
 much older than St. Petersburg, its population 
 is but three hundred and seventy thousand. 
 This city covers an immense extent of ground 
 and is very irregular in shape. It was almost 
 entirely consumed by the terrible fire of 1812, 
 but Russian energy and perseverance has re- 
 placed the old city by a new one which is far 
 more magnificent. 
 
 The Kremlin, or Citadel, is immense in size, 
 covering, as it does, nearly four hundred acres 
 of ground. It is an irregular - looking pile, 
 and from a distance seems like a collection of 
 mosques, domes, spires, minarets and towers 
 thrown together in heterogeneous confusion.
 
 COL. SANFOKDS LETTERS. 133 
 
 One of the gates of the Citadel is called Re- 
 deemer's Gate. Over this hangs a picture of 
 Christ, and no Russian, either prince or peasant, 
 rich or poor, ever passes this gate without re- 
 moving his hat. The people have a tradition 
 which is religiously believed, that all attempts to 
 destroy this gate and picture by fire and gun- 
 powder have failed, and that all future efforts to 
 destroy the same will be futile. 
 
 In the Kremlin stands the Church of the As- 
 sumption, which contains many valuable relics, 
 among which I noticed a figure representing Mt. 
 Sinai, Moses, and the tables of the law, all made 
 of solid o-old. A Bible is shown which was the 
 
 o 
 
 gift of the mother of Peter the Great. The 
 cover of this is richly adorned with precious 
 stones, and is said to be worth more than two 
 millions of roubles (a rouble is 80 cents.) 
 
 It is not to be expected that a rich, first-class 
 church like this can afford to be without ancient 
 relics from Jerusalem, and I did not, therefore, 
 feel any great surprise when shown a nail from 
 the Cross on which Jesus was crucified, and a 
 piece both of his and his mother's robe. A pic- 
 ture of the Virgin is also shown, of which it is 
 said St. Paul was the painter. If that saint did
 
 I 34 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 paint this, it only demonstrates the fact that as 
 a painter he was not a success. 
 
 The great bell for which Moscow is so cele- 
 brated, stands on a piece of granite masonry in 
 the basement of a tower named Ivan Veliki. 
 This tower contains many bells, but the big bell 
 claimed all the time I had to bestow, while 
 hastening along. This bell is twenty-two feet 
 high and twenty-two and a half in diameter. It 
 weighs two hundred tons, and is by far the larg- 
 est ever made. A piece was broken from one 
 side of this monster when it fell from the burn- 
 ing tower where it was originally hung. The 
 aperture thus made now serves as a door, 
 through which persons can enter to attend re- 
 ligious services which are held inside of the 
 bell, it being now used as a chapel. 
 
 The University of Moscow is among the best 
 and most liberally endowed in Europe. It now 
 accommodates twelve hundred students. 
 
 During this month a great national fair is be- 
 ing held in the city, and the best products of 
 Russia are here on exhibition. The display of 
 furs from the cold regions of the north is very 
 fine. Precious stones of almost every kind are 
 found within the domains of this mighty empire,
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 135 
 
 and tens of thousands are here to delight the 
 gaze of the multitude which ever lingers around 
 the velvet-covered caskets. The number of ag- 
 ricultural implements, reapers, plows, fanning 
 mills and other farming utensils, is great; these, 
 with sewing machines, cook stoves and kitchen 
 furniture, plainly say to visitors: Russia has 
 joined the ranks of progress and means to keep 
 pace with her sister nations. By far the largest 
 and most beautiful display of leather-work that 
 I ever saw is on exhibition at this fair. This 
 sweetly -scented red leather is a specialty of 
 Russia, and in no other country is it so suc- 
 cessfully manufactured. Trunks, band -boxes, 
 pocket-books, traveling bags, canes, bracelets, 
 neck ties, gloves, and many other useful articles 
 are made of this material, a vast assortment 
 of which are here on exhibition. The price, 
 too, is so low, being about one-half what it is in 
 Paris. 
 
 1 The Russians are not famous for habits of 
 cleanliness, but in this respect are quite equal to 
 the Italians or Spaniards, and far superior to the 
 present inhabitants of Greece and Egypt. The 
 lower classes have a fondness for eating bits of 
 candle ends and stray pieces of tallow, which
 
 136 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 does not accord with the tastes of an over-fas- 
 tidious traveler. 
 
 The best tea which China produces is brought 
 overland to supply the Russian market. In 
 China I have drank poor tea, in Russia never; 
 and it is the boast of Russians that they are 
 the consumers of the best tea in the world, a 
 boast which my experience does not enable me 
 to contradict. 
 
 The Church of St. Basil is one of the richest 
 in Moscow, and in its style of architecture un- 
 like all others. It has many spires, domes and 
 minarets, which are painted in gorgeous colors. 
 This church was built by the Great Ivan, who 
 was so well pleased with the work that he 
 caused the eyes of the architect to be put out, 
 so that he might never build another Christian 
 temple like this. 
 
 And now I close the sketch of my hasty visit 
 to Russia, and in doing so express the opinion 
 that in no nation on earth are the fires of prog- 
 ress more permanently lighted. The dark mists 
 of barbarism are being swept away, and the sun 
 of liberty and prosperity seems to shine upon a 
 united and happy people.
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 SWITZERLAND. 
 
 PARIS, France, July 22, 1872. 
 ^AY before yesterday I sat down in Geneva 
 ^_J to write a letter, fully intending to describe 
 that city, instead of which I devoted seven pages 
 of foolscap to my recent journey through Rus- 
 sia. After writing so much about St. Peters- 
 burg and Moscow, I found that both time and 
 space forbade the carrying out of my original 
 resolution. 
 
 Yesterday I found myself again on the rail- 
 way, rapidly hurrying through Culos, Macon, 
 Dijon and Fontainebleau, toward Paris, at which 
 city I arrived late last night. Geneva, thus far, 
 has been left out of my letters entirely, and 
 although I am now in this gay metropolis of 
 France, I do not feel quite satisfied to say noth- 
 ing in regard to this my favorite city. In glitter 
 and show Paris has no peer, while for size Lon-
 
 138 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 don leads all other cities, but for cleanliness and 
 comfort I know of no city in Europe which can be 
 named in preference to Geneva. Her hotels are 
 excellent and form a striking contrast to those 
 of Italy. Geneva is situated at the foot of lake 
 Geneva and on both banks of the river Rhone, 
 which flows clear as crystal from the lake. The 
 view from the bridges crossing" this river is beau- 
 tiful in the extreme. The city seems to stand 
 in a grand mountain amphitheater. East and 
 west, north and south towering mountains rise 
 up before you, forming a gigantic and beautiful 
 background to the scene. 
 
 On a clear day may be seen in] the distance, 
 the snow-covered summit of Mt. Blanc, the high- 
 est of all European mountains. The air is so 
 clear that it seems but a few miles to the top of 
 that lofty white peak, yet if the venturesome 
 traveler wishes to brave dangers almost insur- 
 mountable and climb to the summit, he will find 
 that nearly fifty miles of travel intervene be- 
 tween Geneva and the Alps' King. 
 
 History has thrown a mantle of more than 
 ordinary interest around the fortunes of this city. 
 It was here that John Calvin lived and preached 
 during the best years of his life. In the Church
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 139 
 
 of St. Pierre he lifted his voice in thunder 
 against the doctrines of the Church of Rome. 
 It was here that he gave to the world his grand- 
 est efforts in the way of intellectual and theolog- 
 ical strength. It was here that he manifested 
 that wonderful severity which culminated in the 
 burning at the stake of that great-hearted 
 Michael Servetus. The church where Calvin 
 preached so long, is a very old one, having been 
 erected in the twelfth century. It is now occu- 
 pied by Roman Catholics, and the pulpit from 
 whence Calvin hurled his keenest shafts against 
 the papal power, is now used by a priest who 
 preaches the doctrines of that church. At No. 
 1 1 Rue des Chauvines, Calvin formerly resided, 
 but the old house has long since been torn 
 down, and where it once stood now stands a 
 Catholic building occupied by Sisters of Charity. 
 Calvin's library of books and manuscripts is 
 kept in Geneva and may be examined by the 
 traveler at will. 
 
 A little way out from the city stands the chat- 
 eau and villa of Fernet, built by the celebrated 
 French philosopher, Voltaire. It is said that 
 when Voltaire was about to make a journey to 
 Paris, he gave orders that his home and furniture
 
 1 40 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 should remain precisely as left by him until he 
 returned. He never returned, but his injunc- 
 tion so far has been obeyed. His bed-room, 
 with bed, furniture and pictures, including those 
 of Washington and Franklin, still remain as he 
 left it. The house is large and roomy, and is 
 never inhabited save by the custodian who has 
 it in charge. Whatever errors of religious opin- 
 ions Voltaire may have fallen into, his selection 
 of this spot for a residence shows him to have 
 been far from deficent in taste, for a more beau- 
 tiful spot and one commanding grander views 
 of mountains, lakes and villas, can scarcely be 
 found. 
 
 In the immediate neighborhood of Geneva at 
 one time resided Lord Byron. In fact, most of 
 the great literary lights of the past few hundred 
 years have, at some time, found it convenient to 
 reside amid and enjoy for a season the beauties 
 so lavishly displayed by nature in this vicinity. 
 
 In the cemetery of Geneva rests the remains 
 of Sir Humphrey Davy and John Calvin. The 
 grave of the latter is undecorated by monument 
 or tombstone, and the exact spot is not positively 
 known. The spot where it is supposed he was 
 interred is pointed out and marked by a small
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 141 
 
 square stone let into the ground, upon which 
 the letters J. C. are carved. 
 
 The philosopher, Jean Jacques Rosseau, was 
 born here in 1712. On an island in the river 
 stands a statue erected to the memory of this 
 eccentric genius. 
 
 Geneva has a world -wide reputation for its 
 watches and jewelry. The latter, if of gold, is 
 sure to be eighteen carats fine, as this is regu- 
 lated by law, and penalties of fine and imprison- 
 ment would speedily be meted out to the manu- 
 facturer should he attempt to sell goods which 
 in fineness were inferior to the standard pre- 
 scribed. Some of the best watches in the world 
 are made here, and some of the poorest as well. 
 It is a mistake on the part of American watch 
 companies to claim that Swiss watches are all 
 hand-made while their own only are made by 
 machinery. In all the great watch factories of 
 Geneva, machinery is used, and watches of beau- 
 tiful finish and great accuracy as time-keepers 
 are produced. The process of adjusting a watch 
 to heat, cold, and position is one which requires 
 long and careful attention. Day after day the 
 movement must be kept going and its time- 
 keeping qualities noted. After the movement
 
 142 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 
 
 has been found to keep good time while in dif- 
 ferent positions, it is subjected to the test of 
 extreme heat and freezing cold. At length the 
 record for weeks, sometimes months, is exam- 
 ined and each day's performance scrutinized. If 
 the variation from perfect time has been but 
 slight during all these days of trial, the little 
 piece of mechanism is pronounced perfect and 
 ready for sale. A watch keeping absolutely per- 
 fect time has never yet been made, but perhaps 
 will be when perfect men are made. Some 
 watches are made to keep so near perfect time 
 that their variation reaches only the twentieth 
 or thirtieth part of a second in twenty-four hours, 
 but the written characters of most fine watches 
 reveal a variation of from a quarter to a half of 
 a second each day. In America we often pay 
 as high as $300 or $400 in gold for a watch bear- 
 ing the name of some noted maker. I have 
 owned watches made by Patek, Phillips & Co., 
 Frodsham and Dent. Of American make I have 
 possessed only the Appleton & Tracy and E. 
 Howard. The Patek & Phillips and Howard 
 were the most accurate time-keepers I ever saw. 
 However perfect a watch may be, my opinion 
 is that no watch movement, made simply and
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 143 
 
 only to keep time, should sell for more than six 
 hundred francs ($120.) This is also the opinion 
 of the leading watch dealers in Geneva. 
 
 The amount of money expended here on 
 watches, jewelry and precious stones is very 
 great. I saw one diamond, unset, for which the 
 modest sum of $23,000 was asked. It is of per- 
 fect color, flawless, of good shape, and of thir- 
 teen carats weight, and was formerly the prop- 
 erty of the Duke of Brunswick. Bracelets and 
 lockets, richly ornamented with thousands of 
 dollars' worth of precious stones, are lavishly 
 displayed and find ready purchasers, but the 
 lean, dyspeptic look of my pocket-book forbids 
 my casting anything more than an observing 
 glance toward the rich treasures so abundantly 
 displayed. 
 
 Persons desirous of visiting Chamouni, Mt. 
 Blanc, Locale, and other places of interest in 
 Switzerland, will find Geneva the best point 
 from which to start. 
 
 It is difficult to say too much in praise of the 
 bravery and honesty of the Swiss people. The 
 schools of Switzerland are of the very highest 
 class, and the people industrious, frugal and lib- 
 erty-loving. The spirit of free thought seems to
 
 144 COL - SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 be abroad and the fires of freedom ever burn 
 brightly. 
 
 Italy may have more sunny skies, and other 
 nations around her, greater power, but these 
 hardy children of the Alps, in integrity, love of 
 honor and country, are not to be excelled 
 among the nations of the earth.
 
 LETTER XVII. 
 FRANCE. 
 
 PARIS, France, July 23, 1872. 
 
 WILL try and write a letter from this city 
 now, which shall be made up of descriptions 
 and incidents connected with it. This statement 
 is made for the reason that recently my letters 
 in regard to one city, have almost invariably 
 been written from another. 
 
 It has been my fortune to be in Paris in three 
 marked eras of the city's history. I was a vis- 
 itor here, in 1867, when more than one million 
 of people, gathered from all quarters of the 
 globe, were in attendance at the world's great 
 exposition. Crowned heads, princes, and others 
 of noble blood, were visitors and shared the en- 
 joyments of the occasion, along with the humble 
 and less pretentious of mankind. 
 
 At this time, Paris was emphatically a city of 
 luxury and splendor. On an afternoon when
 
 146 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 the weather was fair and the sun shone brightly, 
 thousands of carriages, filled with the rich and 
 fashionable, might be seen in the great forest of 
 the Bois Bologne, breathing the fresh air and en- 
 joying the beauties of this, one of earth's rarest 
 spots. Later in the evening the tide of fashion 
 rolled back and swept along the streets of the 
 gay metropolis. The broad sidewalks were 
 alive with a well-dressed and seemingly happy 
 throng. Under the gaslight, in front of the 
 richly decorated cafes, men and women were 
 seated at marble-top tables, eating, drinking, 
 chatting and looking out upon the ever-moving 
 panorama. 
 
 Within the great walls of the exposition build- 
 ing was gathered a grand collection of the best 
 products of all nations. The rich shawls of In- 
 dia, silks from China, and carpets decorated in 
 the semi -barbaric splendor of Constantinople, 
 might here be seen in one apartment. In 
 others, Prussia, England and America displayed 
 to the eyes of visitors their best pianos, cloths, 
 boots, shoes and gloves. Geneva, Paris, Lon- 
 don and Amsterdam assisted largely in bringing 
 together the richest and most extensive assort- 
 ment of watches, jewelry, precious stones and
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 147 
 
 silverware that human eyes ever gazed upon. 
 Italy gave, for a time, some of her best pieces 
 of sculpture and rarest paintings. Siberia, and 
 other lands whose borders reach away up to the 
 frozen north, enriched the exhibition by a won- 
 derful display of the softest and most beautiful 
 furs. The looms of Lyons had been busy in 
 the manufacture of silks and velvets of beautiful 
 finish for the exhibition. In fact, I know of 
 nothing designed for utility or ornament, from 
 the ponderous steam engine to the most deli- 
 cately constructed chronometer, which was not 
 represented in this display. Cloths of rainbow 
 hues, from the rude looms of Tunis, were 
 here by the side of those bearing the names of 
 the most noted French and English manufact- 
 urers. 
 
 This exposition was in some respects not un- 
 like the Vatican at Rome. In the Vatican we 
 wander and gaze for a time, grow weary and 
 are satisfied to leave. In a few hours a desire 
 to return is felt, and again and again is this 
 repeated. So with the exposition. The visitor 
 would grow tired of walking through the mazy 
 avenues and examining the vast display, and 
 when, with weary footsteps, a good bye was
 
 148 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 said for that day, it was with the feeling, I shall 
 not return again; and yet another morning would 
 find the same person once more wandering amid 
 the vast collection and re-examining the same 
 with a never-satisfied curiosity. 
 
 On one occasion I was in the building when 
 the Emperor and Empress of the French, the 
 Emperor of Austria and Prussia, and the Sultan 
 of Turkey were present. At that time it was 
 estimated that one hundred thousand persons 
 were in the building, and yet so vast was its 
 extent that the assembly did not seem to be at 
 all unpleasantly crowded. 
 
 One could then, as now, best obtain a bird's- 
 eye view of historical Paris by taking a position 
 near the Obelisk of Luxor, which stands in the 
 center of the Place de la Concorde. This obe- 
 lisk and the fountain near it stand on the spot 
 where the guillotine formerly stood. Here was 
 spilled the blood of Marie Antoinette, and also 
 of thousands of the noblest men and women of 
 France. From this point a good view may be 
 had of the Tuilleries, Corps de Legislatif, Tri- 
 umphal Arch, erected by Napoleon, Notre Dame, 
 and other buildings of historical interest. From 
 this spot it is but a short walk to the Column
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 149 
 
 Vendome, Madeline, and Grand Opera, all of 
 which are noted landmarks. 
 
 At the period of which I am now writing 
 (1867) Paris had, undoubtedly, reached the me- 
 ridian of its glory. In the domain of fashion 
 she was without a rival, and as a city where lux- 
 urious ease and comfort might be enjoyed, the 
 world accorded to her the highest praise. 
 
 In August, 1870, I again found myself a so- 
 journer in this once gay city, and it required but 
 a short time and no extra powers of observation, 
 to discover that a darker era had dawned upon 
 the great metropolis. The gay equipages which 
 once dashed along the cool, shady drive of the 
 Bois Bologne, had disappeared, and that grand 
 park was now a pasture in which thousands of 
 cattle roamed at will amid the forest shades, eat- 
 ing the grass, browsing the trees, and drinking 
 from those crystal streams which three years be- 
 fore had formed cascades of wondrous beauty. 
 The great bands which once delighted the ears 
 of all with most enchanting music, were heard 
 no more, but the martial notes of the fife and 
 drum now sounded through the half-deserted 
 streets and parks. To these strains armed men 
 were keeping time while learning the rudiments
 
 I 50 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 of war's art. Men and women were moving 
 about as of old, but the joyous faces of three 
 years before were not seen, gladness had fled 
 on the gloomy approach of adversity, and sad- 
 ness was writing its lines of care on faces 
 where smiles once reigned. Many of the rail- 
 way stations were being used as temporary hos- 
 pitals, and Sisters of Charity were busy aiding 
 in the care of the sick and wounded men. 
 
 From August 24 until September 8, stirring 
 scenes were enacted, not only in Paris, but 
 thoughout France. During this time the battle 
 of Sedan was fought, Napoleon made a pris- 
 oner of war, and the Empress Eugenie sought 
 safety in flight. In the Place de la Concorde I 
 one day saw a vast multitude assembled and 
 heard the shouts of joy with which an announce- 
 ment of the birth of a Republique was greeted. 
 
 While these eventful days were passing, the 
 inhabitants of Paris, as a mass, appeared to live 
 in almost total ignorance of the state of affairs 
 outside. This may be illustrated by a statement 
 of the fact that long after the crushing defeat of 
 Sedan, it was believed in the city that the 
 French army had achieved a glorious victory, 
 but when the full extent of this disaster began
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 151 
 
 to be understood and wounded soldiers brought 
 in by thousands, the horror of the national ca- 
 lamity flashed upon the minds of all, and Paris, 
 like Jerusalem of old, became a city of mourn- 
 ing. 
 
 American visitors, at this time, grew anxious 
 in regard to the future destiny of this city and 
 made hasty preparations to leave. I was one 
 among the number,^ and felt that Paris was a 
 spot from which it would be well for me to emi- 
 grate. On attempting it, however, I found no- 
 tices posted up in conspicuous places, stating 
 that the demands of war required the use of all 
 railway trains, and the transportation of passen- 
 gers for the present had to be discontinued. 
 This information was not of a character to 
 soothe the minds of those who were opposed to 
 sharing the dangers and hardships of a siege. 
 Yet, as from this mandate of General Trouche 
 there was no appeal, some of us resolved to 
 make preparations for a lengthy sojourn in the 
 doomed city. That our present enforced stay 
 was to be a pleasant one, none could for a mo- 
 ment believe, as a residence in Paris now meant 
 both danger and hunger. Dangers from the 
 terrible missiles of war, soon to be hurled in
 
 I 5 2 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 storms of destruction upon the once proud me- 
 tropolis; danger, too, from the mad population, 
 many of whom were willing to imagine a Prus- 
 sian spy in the person of every stranger. The 
 cry of "Prussian spy!" was one often heard com- 
 mingling with the shouts of a multitude in the 
 pursuit of some suspected person. And it is 
 not pleasant to reside, even for a time, in a 
 place where being suspected of an offense is 
 equal in its results to having the crime proven. 
 
 The siege and fall of Paris is now spread 
 upon the pages of history, and the sad story of 
 famine, disease, and death, has been often told. 
 Long did the war cloud hover over the place 
 where beauty and luxury once reigned supreme. 
 
 At length the victorious Prussian hosts, in 
 proud array, marched under the Triumphal Arch 
 and through the most noted streets, giving to 
 the world the spectacle of Paris humiliated and 
 at the mercy of her conquerors. 
 
 After the Prussians had gone, there came a 
 still darker day in the history of Paris, when she 
 was made to undergo the terrible baptism of 
 fire and blood, fire kindled and blood spilled, by 
 the hands of her own children. Under the fear- 
 ful reign of the Commune, Paris drank the
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 153 
 
 deepest dregs of her bitter cup. And, now, 
 while the doomed city is, at night, lighted with 
 the glare of her burning palaces, and the hand 
 of destruction seems never to tire, I will finish 
 my letter, hoping that no darker page may ever 
 be written in Parisian history.
 
 LETTER XVIII. 
 
 O a person of limited means, and to many 
 who are plentifully supplied in this respect, 
 the question, "What will a journey to the old 
 world cost?" is one of deep interest, and one 
 that ever claims attention while preparations are 
 being made for the tour. 
 
 I had already made the tour through England, 
 Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Belgium and France, 
 going to England on a sail-ship and returning a 
 steerage passenger in the ill-fated steamer, "City 
 of Boston." I was young, vigorous and enthu- 
 siastic, and accomplished most of my journey 
 traveling third-class, eating but little, and that of 
 a kind usually provided at second-class hotels. 
 My expenses on that tour had been about $750 
 in currency. The time occupied not quite five 
 months, but as gold at that time was more than 
 one hundred per cent, in value above currency, 
 it will be seen that my expenses were far from 
 being extravagant.
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 155 
 
 Toward the close of 1866, I began to contem- 
 plate a journey through Egypt, Palestine, Ara- 
 bia, Greece, Italy and other portions of the old 
 world. This was to be a long, tedious tour, and 
 one which, if accomplished, would give an op- 
 portunity of seeing the most noted spots on 
 earth. 
 
 I wrote a letter of enquiry to an eminent 
 clergyman, who had made the tour of what is 
 known as the Holy Land, asking for facts in 
 regard to the expense and time required for the 
 accomplishment of the journey. I received an 
 answer, neatly and carefully written, informing 
 me that the expense of the journey I was about 
 to make would depend entirely upon my habits 
 while traveling. Said he: If you go to first- 
 class hotels and travel in first-class railway car- 
 riages, the expense will be greater than if you 
 travel second-class and live at less pretentious 
 houses. The letter closed by informing me that 
 some persons could travel on about half the 
 expense that others could. 
 
 All this was highly satisfactory, but it was dif- 
 ficult to determine that information so trite could 
 be of any great value. It is often said that no 
 two travelers agree in regard to the expense of
 
 156 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 foreign travel. This, in a measure, is true, and 
 to me the reason seems quite clear. Persons 
 can always tell how much money has been ex- 
 pended on returning from an European tour, 
 but as articles bought always form a portion of 
 the aggregate expense, it frequently happens 
 that the absolute cost of travel cannot be readily 
 known, although the aggregate may be easily 
 ascertained. 
 
 My tour made in 1866 and 1867, embraced 
 England, France, Switzerland, Italy, Egypt, Ara- 
 bia, Palestine, Greece, a small portion of Austria, 
 and was finished by a pedestrian tour from Paris, 
 through Brittany, to Brest, from whence I sailed 
 for home. The time occupied was about seven 
 months, and the total expense $1,922 in gold. 
 Out of this sum, for watch, jewelry, clothing and 
 curiosities, may be deducted $375, which leaves 
 $1,617 for living and traveling expenses. This 
 trip was made first-class on railroads and steam- 
 ers, but the very best of hotels, such as the 
 Grand in Paris, or De Russia in Rome, did not 
 receive my custom. 
 
 In 1870 I made a trip through England, Scot- 
 land, Belgium and France, was detained by the 
 exigencies of war some time in Paris, when ex-
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 157 
 
 penses were more than doubled. From my 
 home in Iowa, back to the same again, the time 
 occupied was just one hundred days, twenty-five 
 of which were spent on the ocean going and 
 returning. Total expense, $980, of which $800 
 may be reckoned as traveling expenses. This 
 journey was made first-class throughout. 
 
 In the beginning of the present year I started 
 west, passing through California, crossing the 
 Pacific Ocean to Japan, visiting Yokohama, Yed- 
 do, Kamakura, and other places of interest in 
 the Japanese Empire. Sailed from Yokohama 
 to Hong Kong, visited Canton, Honan, Shang- 
 hai, Saigon, and other parts of China. From 
 China I went to Singapore, in India; from there 
 to Ceylon, thence to Calcutta, and across India 
 to Bombay; from there the journey was contin- 
 ued on to Arabia, up the Red Sea to Egypt. 
 Cairo, Heliopolis, and Alexandria were revisited, 
 and from the last-named city I sailed for Bren- 
 disi, in Italy. The journey was continued to 
 Naples, then back to Alexandria, and from there 
 to Joppa, Jerusalem, Beyrout, Constantinople, 
 Greece, and around to Italy again. I then 
 passed through Italy, visiting Rome, Florence, 
 Milan and Turin; went through the Alps and
 
 158 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 tarried a few days in Geneva, Paris and London; 
 arrived in Liverpool July 3. On the 4th, started 
 by rail and went to Russia, direct, visiting St. 
 Petersburg and Moscow; returned to England; 
 sailed for home, arriving in Iowa by August 15. 
 This entire journey has cost me $4,400 in gold, 
 of which $1,100 has been expended outside of 
 traveling expenses. This grand tour was made 
 first-class throughout. It embraced nearly fifty 
 thousand miles of travel and completely made 
 the circle of the globe. 
 
 To go around the world in the great highway 
 of travel, making no long detours, the trip may 
 be made comfortably in eighty-two days, at an 
 expense of $1,600 in gold; and for $400 more, six 
 weeks longer may be taken, allowing ample time 
 in which to visit London, Paris, Rome, Cairo, 
 besides many other cities and places of interest 
 directly on the line of the journey. 
 
 Rapid travel is always more expensive than 
 slow. If a person remains in Rome, London, 
 or any other great city but a few days, the 
 chances are that a hotel will be selected as a 
 stopping place; while if, instead of days, weeks 
 are to be spent in a place, apartments may be 
 hired and living expenses reduced more than
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 159 
 
 one-half. So that if $2,000 will cover the ex- 
 pense of eight months, it is safe to calculate 
 $2,500 will be sufficient for all purposes if the 
 time be prolonged to one year. 
 
 In fact, the difference between the expense of 
 a hurried journey and one made without haste, 
 is even greater in favor of the prolonged stay 
 than the above estimate would seem to indicate. 
 In order, if possible, to make this information 
 of some use to others, I will here give the cost 
 of travel between a few of the cities which I 
 have recently visited; and, for convenience, I 
 will give the fare in dollars, the currency of our 
 own country, although in doing this it is well to 
 allow at least ten per cent, for the difference in 
 exchange. 
 
 From London to Geneva the fare is $23; 
 Geneva to Florence, by way of Milan and 
 Turin, $19.50; Florence to Rome, $9; Rome to 
 Naples, $8; Naples to Brendisi, $9; Brendisi to 
 Alexandria, in Egypt, by steamer, $55; Alexan- 
 dria to Cairo, $8; from Alexandria to Joppa, by 
 steamer, $8; from Joppa to Jerusalem there is 
 no regular price, but the distance is only thirty- 
 six miles, and it need not cost more than $6 or 
 $7; from London to St. Petersburg the fare is
 
 160 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 $75; from St. Petersburg to Moscow, $12; from 
 Cairo to Suez, $8; Suez to Hong Kong, in 
 China, $400; from Hong Kong to California, 
 
 #305- 
 
 In these few instances, I give simply the bare 
 cost of transportation by first-class. By going 
 second-class the cost may be reduced one-third; 
 and by taking third-class cars and going in the 
 steerage of steamships, a still greater reduction 
 may be made. 
 
 To be told that the expense of living varies 
 at the different hotels, is simply to repeat some- 
 thing which is known to everybody. The ques- 
 tion asked by letter-readers, is: "How much 
 is the variation ?" Take, by way of illustration, 
 the Grand Hotel, in Paris ; good comfortable 
 rooms may here be obtained at four francs per 
 day, though the best apartments in the house, 
 are held at thirty francs. Comfortable hotels of 
 lesser note, in the same city, may be found 
 where good rooms can be obtained at two or 
 three francs each. In Geneva, Switzerland, ar- 
 rangements may be made for board and lodging 
 at from seven to nine francs per day. In Ger- 
 many the cost of living is about the same as 
 in Switzerland. In Italy, prices are high and
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 161 
 
 first-class board hard to be found at any price. 
 By taking apartments in Rome, in the fifth story 
 of a building-, I obtained board which included 
 lodging and lights, at twelve francs per day. In 
 Naples and Florence, my hotel bill averaged six- 
 teen francs. In Cairo, Egypt, and Jerusalem, 
 sixteen shillings British money per day (about 
 $4), is the average cost of living at the best 
 hotel. 
 
 This does not include gratuities to servants; 
 and, as yet, I have found no foreign land, half- 
 civilized or enlightened, where servants did not 
 expect extra compensation from the traveler. 
 The turbaned Arab who accompanied me over 
 the desert; the Chinaman who cared for me in 
 China; the porters, stewards and chambermaids 
 who wait upon you in Europe, and even the 
 railroad conductor, each receive a small present 
 from the traveler as if it were a matter of right. 
 And it is this extra expense, servants' fees, 
 lights, soap, and money paid to guides, which 
 makes such sad havoc -with calculations in regard 
 to the cost of an European tour. 
 
 Within the past ten years the cost of travel 
 and merchandise has largely increased in Europe, 
 especially do Americans find this to be the case.
 
 1 62 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 So many of our countrymen have grown sud- 
 denly rich by army speculations, the flow of oil, 
 or in mining operations, and have gone abroad to 
 enjoy their riches, that the effect has been to 
 lead Europeans into the belief that we are a 
 nation of millionaires. However gratifying it 
 may be to one's vanity to be considered rich, 
 there are great disadvantages connected with it 
 where a person has but little money to spend. 
 
 Kid gloves, in Paris, of the best quality, were 
 formerly sold at from two to three francs per 
 pair; now, for the same kind, from four to six 
 are demanded. In Geneva, watches and jew- 
 elry, within the past seven years, have advanced 
 at least twenty per cent., and the same is true in 
 regard to corals in Naples, scarfs in Rome, laces 
 in Brussels, and leather-work in St. Petersburg. 
 
 In ending this chapter, I would say that I do 
 not acquiesce in the oft-repeated declaration, 
 "Persons can travel much cheaper in the old 
 world than in this!" On the contrary, I am of the 
 opinion that one cannot travel rapidly and live 
 first-class in the old world at any less expense 
 than here.
 
 Col. Sanford's Letters 
 
 PART II.
 
 LETTER I. 
 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 
 
 SHIP "ETHIOPIA," ATLANTIC OCEAN, 2,000 
 Miles East of New York, June 19, 1887. 
 
 ONE week ago to-day, I sailed from New 
 York, on this grand ship of the Anchor 
 line. Many times I have crossed the big ocean 
 before, but never until now, have I escaped 
 being seasick. This time I pay no tribute to 
 Neptune. I have taken my regular three meals 
 and could have taken four if the same had been 
 provided. 
 
 The voyage, so far, has been comparatively 
 stormy. Many passengers have been confined to 
 their state-rooms by seasickness. This kind of 
 sickness is indescribable. In the first stages you 
 are anxious to die; in the second, sorry you can- 
 not, and in the last stages, you feel anxious to 
 have everybody die, including yourself. One 
 poor, sick woman, hearing another cry out, "Oh!
 
 1 66 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 the ship is sinking," cried in response, "I am 
 glad, it will end this trouble." Most people are 
 ashamed to be seasick, looking upon it as a 
 semi-disgrace, and you will hear all sorts of ex- 
 cuses for the want of appetite, some saying they 
 were sick on shore, others declaring it is only a 
 headache, and others accounting for continued 
 illness on account of rheumatism. The other 
 night, when the sailor on duty cried out, "Eight 
 bells, and all is well," a neighbor of mine ceased 
 vomiting for a moment, and in tones most plain- 
 tive cried out, "Oh! how nice and well I am." 
 Our Captain Wilson is a genial gentleman, full 
 of fun, attentive to the wants of all, and seems 
 most anxious to make our voyage a pleasant 
 as well as a safe one. He says he never used 
 tobacco or tasted a drop of intoxicating liquor 
 in his life. He seems to think he has missed 
 no great amount of fun. Our first mate, Mr. 
 Haynes, is a thorough seaman, attentive to 
 duty, a perfect gentleman, has been twice ship- 
 wrecked. He has sailed on every sea, and has 
 many a pleasant story to tell when we meet at 
 the dinner table. Our doctor is a jolly fellow, a 
 great smoker, and seems by nature well adapted 
 to perform the duties of his position.
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 167 
 
 I think the "Ethiopia" has a grand corps of 
 officers, but not one, from Capt. Wilson down, is 
 more faithful, kind-hearted and attentive than 
 the stewardess, Miss Cameron. With so many 
 sick ladies to demand her attention, she seems 
 to care well for all; with a cup of consolation in 
 one hand and beef tea in the other, she tries to 
 meet the demands and satisfy the wants of the 
 sick ones in her charge. Up to this time the 
 chronic grumbler and fault-finder has not put in 
 an appearance. 
 
 I have for a room-mate a Mr. Johnston, a rel- 
 ative of our M. L. Rogers. Had I been permit- 
 ted to select from ten thousand men I could not 
 have found a chum that would have suited me 
 better than kind-hearted, genial, true Fred. Oh, 
 how he did suffer for a few days, and his face is 
 now sun-burned and blistered, but he makes a 
 full hand at the table. 
 
 Among the passengers we have quite a num- 
 ber of young ladies from Iowa. The list is as 
 follows, including a few from Illinois and Indi- 
 ana: Wm. W. Spangler, Bloomington, Ind.; 
 Dr. and Mrs. Adams, Frankfort, Ind.; Mr. and 
 Mrs. O. G. Hubbell, Elkhart, Ind.; Mrs. Banta 
 and Miss Banta, Franklin, Ind.; Mr. E. E. Grif-
 
 1 68 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 fith, Frankfort, Ind.; Mr. S. D. Conger, Chicago, 
 111.; Mr. F. C. Davis, Albany, Ind.; Miss Cora 
 Knowlton, Winterset, la.; Misses Belle Bentley, 
 Fannie White, Ida Kurtz, Anna Kunkle, Mary 
 McClelland, Des Moines, la. The above list is 
 under the direction of Wm. W. Spangler, of 
 Bloomington, Ind. He is a young traveler, but 
 has had quite a successful experience in conduct- 
 ing parties through Europe. These ladies are 
 all intelligent and bright, thirsting for more 
 knowledge braving a journey across the storm- 
 tossed Atlantic to obtain it. 
 
 Henry Braisell, of Tralee, Ireland, editor of 
 Tralee Independent, is a fellow-passenger, is 
 bright, energetic and full of devotion to the 
 cause of Irish independence. He never tires of 
 sounding the praises of Parnell, O'Brien, and 
 Daniel O'Connell, while grand old Gladstone is 
 an object of Mr. Braisell's most fervent admira- 
 tion. 
 
 Next week we hope to land in Glasgow, and 
 I shall make my way toward Rome via Holland, 
 Belgium, France and Italy. I hope, in a few 
 days, to have something worth writing about.
 
 LETTER II. 
 ATLANTIC OCEAN 2. 
 
 STEAMER "ETHIOPIA," June 19, 1887. 
 'HE stories told on shipboard particularly 
 in the smoking-room are of a varied and 
 often amusing" character. For ten or twelve 
 days, more than one hundred persons, from dif- 
 ferent parts of the world, are thrown into one 
 great family. Sleeping rooms for two persons, 
 at best, are not more than eight by seven feet 
 in size. Often much smaller. It is not to be 
 wondered at that constant and close intercourse 
 makes us quite familiar. To kill time, card, 
 checker and chess playing occupy much of the 
 time. The smoking-room is the place where 
 stories of all kinds are told some of them old, 
 some not over-nice, many witty and a few real 
 fresh and good. I don't know that any are 
 really new, but once in a while I hear one that 
 is not old to me.
 
 I 70 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 Mr. McCulloch, of Indianapolis, Ind., just told 
 me the following: "Mrs. Hamilton, a poor 
 widow, in deep distress and poverty, had her 
 case brought up in prayer-meeting. Said the 
 leader, ' Brother Pomeroy, pray for Mrs. Hamil- 
 ton and present her case to the Lord.' ' I don't 
 know how to pray,' said Brother Pomeroy. 'Ask 
 the Lord to supply her wants,' was the reply. 
 Brother Pomeroy then knelt and sent up the 
 following enthusiastic petition to the Lord of 
 Hosts, 'Oh! Lord, thou knowest Sister Hamil- 
 ton and family require help. Send them, we 
 beseech Thee, a barrel of flour, also a barrel of 
 pork. Send them a barrel of beef. We ask 
 Thee, also, to send them a barrel of pepper.' 
 Pausing for a moment, he said, 'O! Lord, don't 
 mind that last barrel of pepper; it will be too 
 much pepper for the pork.' ' 
 
 Another story was as follows: "Judge Snow- 
 dan was rich, great in intellectual power, and 
 had held a high position in society. Contract- 
 ing the habit of drinking intoxicating fluids, he 
 became a confirmed drunkard, not only drinking 
 fifty or sixty times a day, but even drinking be- 
 tween drinks. The judge at length died. The 
 minister who delivered the funeral sermon was
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. I 7 I 
 
 eloquent and pathetic. In closing he said, 'Our 
 friend has fallen; death has claimed the great, 
 the good, the noble and the true. As the leaves 
 fall in the forest, when touched by the frost of 
 autumn, so has fallen our friend when the angel 
 of death swooped down upon the home of Judge 
 Snowdan. And now, my mourning friends, his 
 spirit is in the land of the departed. To what 
 shall we liken him? Not to the stars, for one 
 star differeth from another star in glory; not to 
 the sun, for the glory of the sun can only be 
 compared to the glory of the angels who sweep 
 the harps of heaven in the sweet abode of the 
 ransomed souls of God. No, no, my friends; 
 we will compare him to the moon. And even 
 here the comparison is in favor of our deceased 
 friend, for the moon is full but once a month, 
 while the judge was full all the time.' " 
 
 Major Martin Kelly, of Memphis., Tenn., (a 
 millionaire railroad contractor) and his wife and 
 family are passengers. The major is one of the 
 jolliest, most kind-hearted and entertaining of 
 all on board. His wife is one of the noblest 
 and best of women, and does well her part to- 
 ward making all happy. 
 
 Of course, we have on the list one conceited
 
 172 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 fool who loves to hear only his own voice. But 
 take it all in all, I have never crossed the Atlan- 
 tic on a safer or better officered ship than the 
 "Ethiopia." 
 
 Now, when we are about to see the shores of 
 old Ireland, and our company is to separate, I 
 can but say the trip of eleven days has been a 
 delightful one. I shall always look back with 
 pleasure to my June trip of 1887 across the At- 
 lantic.
 
 LETTER III. 
 SCOTLAND. 
 
 EDINBURG, Scotland, June 23, 1887. 
 A DISTINGUISHED orator of America once 
 j^j^ remarked, "The more I see of men, the 
 better I like dogs." Could this gentleman have 
 landed in Glasgow with me yesterday, and seen 
 the vast number of drunken, barefooted women 
 and men that I saw, uncleanly, ragged and for- 
 lorn, I think he might have renewed his state- 
 ment with even greater emphasis. Indeed, it is 
 wonderful how much liquor is sold and drank 
 in these two great cities of Scotland. Intem- 
 perance prevails everywhere. 
 
 Hon. James G. Elaine (called by the newspa- 
 pers James Elaine, of America), is now in Eng- 
 land, and is much commended by the press for 
 refusing to take part in discussing the political 
 affairs of this country. I think he is right, and 
 it would be a blessing for America if some of
 
 I 74 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 the violent agitators of the Old World would 
 follow his example while with us. Our country 
 is a land of liberty, but it is not the place to 
 fight battles for the rights of any foreign coun- 
 try. When men or women cast their lots with 
 us, let them be of us, or else go back to the land 
 where the great wrongs done, they would talk 
 of and correct, can be righted. 
 
 To-day I have visited Edinburg Castle, gazed 
 upon the crown jewels of Scotland, also upon 
 the old oaken chest in which they were con- 
 cealed for upwards of one hundred years. The 
 crown of Scotland, with its gems of great value, 
 the sword of state in a scabbard of gold, and 
 other priceless items of royal association, are all 
 carefully guarded in the grim old castle, whose 
 history carries us back to the times of long ago. 
 I stood in the room where James I. was born in 
 1566. Chairs, tables, adornments on ceiling and 
 wall, all as they were when this child of Mary 
 first saw the light of day and began a life des- 
 tined to be most unfortunate. 
 
 I walked to Holyrood Palace a long walk of 
 nearly two miles to see the former home of 
 Mary. In one room I was shown her bed, also 
 the marble slab upon which she knelt when
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 175 
 
 married to Lord Darnley, who was the father of 
 James of whom we write, a beautiful picture on 
 marble of the Blessed Virgin in her private 
 room, and is said to be the one before which 
 she used to perform her religious devotions. In 
 this room is the first looking-glass ever brought 
 to Scotland. It is oval in shape and would 
 be considered a very poor mirror to-day. In 
 this room, under the management or at least 
 with the knowledge of her husband, Rizzio, her 
 secretary (of whom Darnley was jealous), was 
 stabbed. The dark stains at the head of the 
 stairs (down which his body was thrown) are 
 still shown upon the floor as the life-blood of 
 the murdered man. All this occurred but a few 
 months before the birth of her child, in the little 
 room to which I referred. 
 
 Adjoining the palace are the ruins of an old 
 abbey, dating from the twelfth century. Ruins 
 they are, but they tell the story of former 
 grandeur, even in decay. In Holyrood Palace 
 Charles I. was crowned, with great pomp and 
 ceremony, in 1633, his title being King of Scot- 
 land, France, England and Ireland. A few years 
 later he was beheaded in London, Oliver Crom- 
 well becoming ruler in his stead. Mary, Queen
 
 176 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 of Scots, whose sad and troubled life was in 
 part spent amid th'e wild and bloody scenes of 
 Holyrood Palace and the grim Castle of Edin- 
 burg, was first married in Notre Dame, Paris, 
 to the dauphin of France; then to the base 
 Darnley, her cousin. He, with a servant, was 
 blown up, and both bodies were found in a spot 
 near where the university now stands. The 
 Earl of Bothwell was her last husband. He was 
 accused of being one of the murderers of Darn- 
 ley, her second husband. Poor, unfortunate 
 Mary! She was forced to give up her crown, 
 and die at last on the scaffold, in the forty-fifth 
 year of her age. Almost nineteen years of her 
 life had been passed in captivity. She was exe- 
 cuted in 1587, three hundred years ago. 
 
 To-day I visited the quaint old house of John 
 Knox, the so-called reformer. The window 
 from which he denounced Queen Mary, as she 
 passed by, and where he thundered to the mul- 
 titude against Rome and the church, is just as 
 it was more than three hundred years ago. In 
 the center of a small public square (once a 
 graveyard) I found the place where this famous 
 preacher was buried. The carts and cabs pass 
 over it, and only the letters J. K. under your
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 177 
 
 feet tell the story of his earthly resting-place. 
 That he was a wonderful man, none will deny. 
 The stamp of his genius upon the ages that have 
 swept by, and the evidence of his wonderful 
 power, is apparent to the traveler and to all. 
 As to the benefit of his life and its influence for 
 good, there is, and ever will be, a variety of 
 opinions. 
 
 Edinburg is a beautiful city I think one of 
 the finest in the world. On High street many 
 of the buildings on one side, are eight and nine 
 stories high, and often we find dates on them as 
 far back as 1560 and 1535. Some bear even 
 earlier dates than those. I was in an old prison 
 (now used to store beer and ale in) where 
 Montrose was imprisoned, and from whence he 
 was brought forth to be executed. His enemy, 
 Argyle, sat on a balcony and laughed at the 
 noble Montrose as he passed by. The balcony 
 is still standing. I passed it to-day. A few 
 weeks after the execution of Montrose, Argyle 
 marched forth and was executed as his noble 
 enemy had been. 
 
 Glasgow is not a beautiful city. The river 
 Clyde, so black and filthy, perfumes the city 
 with an odor not to be thought of in connection
 
 178 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 with cologne or jockey club. It was in Glas- 
 gow that we landed, and our pleasant company 
 separated. 
 
 Most of the Iowa crowd are still in Scotland. 
 A Mrs. Smith (widow) from Cedar Rapids, Iowa, 
 left for London at once. Although in poor 
 health, she has a kind heart. While a great 
 sufferer, she made many happy by her bright 
 disposition, so full of sunshine and hope. Mrs. 
 Smith is a warm friend of our H. O. Pratt and 
 his family. 
 
 The ride from Glasgow here, over the Cale- 
 donia railway, is a most delightful one. The 
 well-cultivated lands, the thousands of sheep 
 and cattle, green pastures, well-kept hedges, hill- 
 sides and valleys, all dotted with school-houses, 
 churches and pleasant homes, the flowers bloom- 
 ing and the air filled with the sweet perfume 
 thereof, the birds making woods and meadows 
 vocal with song all combine to make this por- 
 tion of Scotland most delightful. 
 
 It may be "English, you know," and certainly 
 it is quite fashionable to praise all countries 
 above your own. But upon me the experience 
 of travel has not produced that effect. For 
 comfort in travel and in hotels, for grand and
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. I 79 
 
 beautiful scenery, mountain peaks or rocky 
 gorges, boundless prairies or majestic forests, 
 mighty rivers that flow through almost every 
 climate, lakes rivaling old ocean in magnitude, 
 in short, a country of boundless hope and future 
 promise, our country stands alone, unrivaled and 
 unapproached by any.
 
 LETTER IV. 
 SCOTLAND 2. 
 
 GLASGOW; Scotland, June 26, 1887. 
 O-DAY, in company with three gentlemen 
 JL of this city, I visited one of the great parks 
 of Glasgow (Queen's). Passing on about half a 
 mile, we came to the little old town of Langside, 
 where the adherents of Mary, Queen of Scots, 
 met their final defeat in 1568. This date is 
 carved on a stone in the old wall. Above it is 
 a representation of the Scottish crown, orna- 
 mented with a gilt border. Tradition declares 
 that upon this spot Mary watched the defeat of 
 her faithful army a defeat which to her meant 
 downfall and an ignominious death. This was 
 her last night in Scotland. Elizabeth, Queen of 
 England, claimed to have detected a conspiracy 
 in which Throckmorton, an English gentleman, 
 the Duke of Guise, the Pope, and others had 
 engaged to set Mary at liberty not only this,
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 181 
 
 but a plot to murder Elizabeth, and place Mary 
 on the throne of England and Scotland, in her 
 stead. Mary was arrested, and fourteen of the 
 so-called conspirators were executed. The un- 
 fortunate and unhappy queen, now in captivity, 
 was accused of being a party to all this, and was 
 at last brought to trial as the instigator of the 
 whole plot. Forty nobles and five judges were 
 appointed to sit upon the trial. After two days 
 she was declared guilty and sentenced to death. 
 This was done at Fotheringay Castle, in Octo- 
 ber, 1586. When James, her son, heard of his 
 mother's danger, he wrote to Queen Elizabeth, 
 complaining most bitterly of her conduct, and 
 even threatened her with revenge. She tried 
 for a time to satisfy him of her good intentions, 
 but soon signed the death warrant, and Mary 
 was ordered to prepare for execution. Mary's 
 answer will live while time endures. Said she, 
 "That soul is unworthy the joys of heaven 
 which repines because the body must endure 
 the stroke of the executioner." The night be- 
 fore her death she ate her supper, and cheerfully 
 tried to comfort her weeping friends who were 
 around her. When the fatal hour came she 
 said, "Bear me witness that I die constant in my
 
 1 82 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 religion, firm in my fidelity to Scotland, and un- 
 changed in my love towards France." Although 
 a weak, tender woman, she looked unmoved, 
 and with cheek unblanched, upon the instru- 
 ment of death. Falling on her knees in prayer, 
 she lifted up the crucifix, pressed it to her lips 
 and said, "As Thy arms, O Jesus, were extended 
 on the cross, so with the outstretched arms of 
 Thy mercy, receive me and forgive my sins." 
 Calmly she prepared for death, giving to her 
 attendants articles of dress and jewelry, and laid 
 her head upon the block. With three blows 
 the executioner severed it from the body. He 
 then held it up, still streaming with blood, while 
 the Dean of Peterborough cried out with a voice 
 of exultation, " So perish the enemies of our 
 good Queen Elizabeth." 
 
 Dark and bloody as the times were in those 
 days, bitter as was the feeling between religious 
 sects, I shall always feel that a cruel murder was 
 committed when the head of Mary, Queen of 
 Scots, fell beneath the executioner's stroke. 
 Mary and Elizabeth were blood relations. The 
 blood of Henry VII., founder of the Tudor dy- 
 nasty, ran in the veins of both. Elizabeth was 
 the daughter of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn.
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 183 
 
 She seems to have inherited much of her 
 father's brutality and her mother's jeslousy. Wise 
 among the wisest of her time, how noble and 
 grand an act she might have performed had she 
 given aid and shown mercy to her poor, weak, 
 storm-tossed and much afflicted, as well as un- 
 happy relation. As the dark storm-clouds are 
 often lit up by a ray of sunshine piercing 
 through the rift, so might England's Queen have 
 made bright a page in her history by showing 
 that divine light of mercy to an unfortunate 
 sister, whose star of hope seemed to go down 
 in darkness and gloom forever. The golden 
 opportunity was lost, and no matter however 
 glorious and grand England's historic page may 
 have been made by Elizabeth's reign, humanity 
 will ever, as the procession of ages sweeps on, 
 sigh a sad amen to the statement, Queen Eliza- 
 beth might have been more womanly.
 
 LETTER V. 
 ENGLAND. 
 
 LONDON, England, June 30, 1887. 
 HAVE arrived in this great city of the world. 
 Made the run from Glasgow here in just ten 
 hours; the distance is four hundred and three 
 miles. The Scotland end of the line is not quite 
 so good as this, and for this reason we made 
 much better time the last half of the journey, 
 often reaching a speed of from fifty to fifty-five 
 miles an hour on short runs. Even greater speed 
 was at times made. The fare, first-class, is fifty- 
 eight shillings, about $13 of our money. I came 
 third-class, which now is fairly comfortable and 
 just as fast as first, at a cost of about $7. An old 
 motto says, " Distant fields are always green," and 
 I often think of this when I hear people praise 
 with unstinted ardor all things away from home. 
 In America we so often hear travelers tell of the 
 high rate of speed and the wonderful perfection
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 185 
 
 of railroads in the Old World. Now I have 
 been on railroads in every country on the face 
 of the globe, where they are, and have failed to 
 find where they excel our own. True, there are 
 a few trains that make very remarkable time, but 
 the distances are short. The time on a long 
 run, like the one from Chicago to New York, 
 as made over the Michigan Southern & Lake 
 vShore or the Pennsylvania, by the limited trains, 
 is not beaten by any railroad in Europe or in 
 the world. Then think of the advantages our 
 roads have in dining cars, toilet and sleeping ar- 
 rangements. English roads are beginning to imi- 
 tate us in the sleeping car accommodation. But 
 there is more comfort to be had in a trip from 
 Chicago to Council Bluffs, on a first-class North- 
 western railway. train, than on any railroad I have 
 found in the Old World. And the same might 
 truly be said of other roads leading from Chicago 
 away out into the grand and mighty West. 
 
 To-day I have visited the Royal Gallery of 
 Art and again viewed a few of my old favorite 
 paintings, which, by the way, were the first mas- 
 terpieces in art I ever saw. The Holy Family, 
 by Murillo; The Family of Darius before Alex- 
 ander the Great; A Virgin and Child, by Ra-
 
 1 86 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 phael, for which ,70,000 were paid recently, are 
 still among my favorite works of art. Paul Ver- 
 onese, in painting The Family of Darius, gave 
 to them the appearance of his own wife and fam- 
 ily, while the mighty Alexander was made to 
 look just like the painter. On this account the 
 painting was condemned and lost sight of for a 
 century or more, until a great painter of more 
 modern times brought it from obscurity, and 
 England's national gallery secured it by the pay- 
 ment of ^"25,000. It is a grand painting, even 
 if Paul Veronese did make his wife and family 
 conspicuous in it. 
 
 To-day I visited a woman whose name a few 
 years ago was often heard in America. She 
 was then Mrs. Victoria Woodhull. Now she is 
 known as Lady Buddolph Martin, wife of the 
 great banker by that name. I think, in spite of 
 his wealth and blood, he is a royal good fellow. 
 The American flag was floating from a staff in 
 the garden of Sir John's princely home. Had 
 it been four days later I should have insisted on 
 making a Fourth of July speech then and there. 
 Mrs. Martin's sister, Tennie C. Claflin, is married 
 to a man of wealth as well as rank, and, like her 
 sister, is a loved wife, honored by her husband,
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 187 
 
 respected by all. No two American women ever 
 endured more unkindliness from their country- 
 men than these two have. I believe (as I always 
 have believed and often said) the American peo- 
 ple treated them most grossly unjust, and it cer- 
 tainly is a pleasure to me to find both of them 
 now happy, full of hope, and with all the bless- 
 ings at their command which love, kindness and 
 wealth can afford. Both of these noble and 
 brainy women are sisters of Dr. Claflin, of Mar- 
 shalltown, Iowa. 
 
 On the line of the Caledonia railway, between 
 here and Glasgow, I visited the little town of 
 Brington. To us from America, it is a place of 
 no small amount of interest. In the aisle of the 
 little church is one of those "brasses" we so 
 often find in English churches. On it is an in- 
 scription, saying that Robert Washington, Esq., 
 of Sulgrave, and his wife Elizabeth, of Northamp- 
 ton county, were buried in this church in 1622. 
 In the church in Sulgrave, a small village near 
 by, you will find on another brass this record, 
 "Lawrence Washington was mayor of Northamp- 
 ton two terms 1532 and in 1545." In the pave- 
 ment is a brass shield badly worn by the feet of 
 millions who have trodden upon it in the ages
 
 1 88 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 gone by. On this old shield I could trace the 
 "stars and stripes" engraved, which was the coat 
 of arms of the Washington family. On the 
 porch of the old manor house, once the resi- 
 dence of the mayor of Northampton, is still to 
 be seen the crest, or coat of arms, of the family; 
 a raven or an eagle is there shown, and it does 
 not require an over-vigorous imagination to 
 fancy the present stars and stripes, eagle and 
 all, to be easily traced back to the heraldic tree 
 of the great George Washington, he being a 
 great-grandson of Sir John Washington, who 
 was knighted in 1623, and came to Bridge's 
 Creek, Virginia, in 1657. Thus we trace the 
 genealogy of George Washington to a little 
 English town, where we tarry but for an hour, 
 then pass on. This is the illustrious George 
 referred to by Pat Magee, an old Revolutionary 
 soldier, who has long since passed over the river 
 and joined the. great majority. Said he, "On 
 the morning of the terrible fight at Monmouth, 
 Washington rode along the ranks and cried out, 
 'Is Pat Magee in the front?' 'Here I am, Gen- 
 eral,' said I. 'Don't call me General,' said he; 
 'call me George, and as you are there, now let 
 the slaughter commence.' "
 
 LETTER VI. 
 ENGLAND BELGIUM. 
 
 BRUSSELS, Belgium, July 3, 1887. 
 CAME from London to Antwerp, and after a 
 short stay in the latter city, journeyed on to 
 this place. London in fact, the whole of Great 
 Britain has not yet recovered from celebrating 
 the fiftieth anniversary of Queen Victoria's ac- 
 cession to the throne. The country has not 
 been so much excited for years. Bonfires blazed 
 on every hillside and mountain-top. About 
 Westminster Abbey and the Parliament House, 
 in London, seats were erected in every avail- 
 able place, and often as high as ^5 were paid 
 for one from which to watch the wonderful pro- 
 cession as it passed by. The Queen rode in a 
 magnificent carriage drawn by six horses; riders 
 were mounted on two of them, while soldiers 
 rode near, and every precaution was taken to 
 guard Her Majesty from accident. She looked
 
 1 90 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 happy as she bowed to and smiled upon the 
 enthusiastic multitude. The old lady has grown 
 stout, does not look one bit care-worn, and I 
 think enjoys her position with her whole soul. 
 "God bless Queen Victoria!" is the shout heard 
 from her subjects all over the world, and I can 
 most heartily say amen to the same, on account of 
 her being such a noble mother and having been 
 so faithful a wife, and always a kind, true woman. 
 Princes from all parts of Europe, and some from 
 Asia, are now in London, guests of the Queen 
 and participants in the great jubilee. 
 
 Owing to an attempt, made not long since, to 
 blow up Westminster Hall with dynamite, the 
 authorities are not so free in permitting strangers 
 to visit some of the old objects of interest as in 
 former times. I did not enter the great Hall of 
 William Rufus or the Parliament House at all. 
 
 Westminster Hall is a portion of the Parlia- 
 ment Building, while the Abbey of the same 
 name, is separated from it by a space of more 
 than a hundred yards. Both Westminster Hall 
 and Westminster Abbey date away back six or 
 seven hundred years. In the famous old hall 
 Charles I. was tried, convicted and sentenced to 
 death. From one of the windows of Whitehall
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 19 I 
 
 Palace he was led forth to execution in 1649. 
 Whitehall Palace is a prominent building, and 
 stands a few hundred yards from the old Hall of 
 Westminster, toward Trafalgar Square. West- 
 minster Abbey is, in history, one of the most 
 famous churches of the world. So many of 
 earth's illustrious dead lie sleeping here, among 
 whom we mention Henry VIII. and his daugh- 
 ter Elizabeth, Edward the Confessor, Macau- 
 lay, Johnson, Dickens, and scores of men and 
 women who have helped to light up the page 
 of civilization. Here is kept the coronation 
 chair of Great Britain; underneath it the stone 
 of Scone. Upon that plain-looking, old oaken 
 chair, scratched and marred by many a hand, 
 and above that stone of Scone, all the sover- 
 eigns of England have sat when crowned, for 
 centuries past. 
 
 Miles from the Parliament House and on the 
 banks of the Thames, I again visited the Tower 
 of London. This grim, gray old stronghold, 
 with walls, towers, open spaces, marts and build- 
 ings of all kinds, covers a space of not far from 
 eleven acres. The central or square tower is 
 said to be seven hundred years old. Here 
 Queen Elizabeth held her court, and in the thick
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 old walls Sir Walter Raleigh was imprisoned 
 thirteen years. This dungeon is not now shown 
 to the traveler. From a window of one room 
 Lady Jane Grey saw the headless body of her 
 husband dragged by in a cart, a few hours before 
 she was called from the same apartment to go 
 forth to her own execution. She was beheaded 
 inside the Tower yard. The crown jewels of 
 Great Britain are kept in one of the rooms of 
 the Tower the sword of mercy and of justice, 
 scabbard of solid gold; salt-cellars, plates, bap- 
 tismal font, and many other vessels of gold and 
 bronze, studded with diamonds, rubies, sap- 
 phires, some of them of fabulous value. In one 
 crown are set a sapphire and a ruby said to be 
 worth ,100,000 each, and having a history that 
 runs back hundreds of years. The block upon 
 which many have been beheaded and the axe of 
 death, both are kept on exhibition, along with 
 thumb-screw racks and other instruments of tor- 
 ture in the olden times. Just outside of the 
 Tower, on a little piece of earth, surrounded 
 with great buildings and embowered amid trees, 
 is Tower Hill, where hundreds of the lesser 
 knights were beheaded in times of old. In the 
 Tower grounds proper, is a plat upon which
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. I 93 
 
 Lady Jane Grey and many of the most illustri- 
 ous sons and daughters of England died upon 
 the scaffold, when cruelty was the rule and kind- 
 ness the exception among men. 
 
 Those people of three or four centuries ago 
 seemed to take delight in quarrels and general 
 rows, ending in imprisonment, cruel tortures, and 
 often in death for the weaker ones. Castle and 
 tower, palace, plain, forest, hillside and hamlet, 
 alike were deemed suitable for the horrors of 
 death. The sunshine of happiness and hope 
 gave place to the cruel darkness of hatred and 
 dispair. An ink-colored sky, unspanned by 
 mercy's law, hung over an unhappy and merci- 
 less people. The story of bloodshed and car- 
 nage would still make one shudder were it not 
 for the fact that darkness in a measure has dis- 
 appeared before the dawn of better and brighter 
 days. 
 
 Antwerp is a quaint, strange old city. There, 
 as well as in Brussels, you see men and women 
 carting garden products around, aided in hand- 
 ling the cart by a dog in harness attached to the 
 same. He works hard and seems to take a 
 deep interest in his master's or mistress' suc- 
 cess, occasionally showing great interest in
 
 194 COL - SANFORDS LETTERS. 
 
 a dog-fight and vainly trying to join in the 
 skirmish. 
 
 Plenty of houses are found in Antwerp that 
 date back to a time years before Columbus set 
 sail to find the long-dreamed-of western passage 
 to India. 
 
 The greatest light of Antwerp was the painter 
 Rubens, and his two grandest and best-known 
 paintings are in the cathedral here. This cathe- 
 dral, with what it contains, is worth a journey 
 across the Atlantic to see; begun in 1352, it was 
 finished about three hundred years later. Its 
 area amounts to seventy thousand and sixty feet; 
 the Cologne Cathedral to eighty-seven thousand; 
 St. Paul's, London, to one hundred and nine 
 thousand; St. Peter's, in Rome, to two hundred 
 and twelve thousand, the last being the largest 
 of all. Rubens' two great paintings, the Eleva- 
 tion of the Cross, and Descent from the Cross, 
 are here. The last named is regarded as the 
 best, and ranks among the world's great masters' 
 masterpieces. Both are large, much larger than 
 Raphael's Transfiguration, in Rome, and I think 
 about the same size of Murillo's Holy Family, in 
 the R.oyal Gallery of London. To me, these 
 three, along with the Last Supper, in Milan, by
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 195 
 
 Leonardo da Vinci, are among the best if not 
 the best known on earth. 
 
 Once in a while I grow tired of grand pictures, 
 splendid architecture and cold marble carved in 
 the human form by men of centuries ago. I love 
 to reflect upon this fact. Far better and nobler 
 than picture, bust, marble arch and towering 
 dome, is the brain that conceived all. And 
 while the works of art may perish, marble pedes- 
 tals crumble, the grandest arch break into frag- 
 ments before the progressive and aggressive 
 footsteps of humanity, still brain will live and 
 the song of an ever-living progressive chorus 
 will drown the echoes of the past and vanishing 
 song of long ago. 
 
 To-morrow I am to visit the battlefield of 
 Waterloo, and may find something to write 
 about.
 
 LETTER VII. 
 BELGIUM 2. 
 
 WATERLOO, Belgium, July 4, 1887. 
 'HIS morning I resolved to celebrate our 
 grand old Fourth of July by a trip to this 
 great battlefield. The road from Brussels here 
 is a roughly-paved one, and hard is the lot of 
 the man or woman who is compelled to ride 
 over it. The ground on either side has been 
 farmed for many centuries, and is a perfect gar- 
 den all the way out. Women as well as men 
 toil side by side, mowing and making hay. 
 Every little while we meet small carts loaded 
 with milk or garden products, such as beans, 
 peas, or onions, bound for the market of Brus- 
 sels. Invariably a big rough-looking dog with 
 harness on, is attached to the cart, and helps in 
 the work. (What a team McMichael's big dog 
 and Father Murphy's would make in this busi- 
 ness.)
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 1 97 
 
 Belgium is a beautiful country and Brussels 
 one of the most charming" cities on earth. But 
 the women we saw in the fields, and those met 
 on the road to Waterloo this morning, all looked 
 forlorn and care-worn. Like the dogs with them, 
 they were looking about as well pleased with 
 life, and no better, than the four-legged slaves 
 that toil in the rude harness along by their sides. 
 
 A strange feeling comes over the traveler 
 on approaching Waterloo. On that well-known 
 battlefield one of the world's most able and most 
 ambitious men was overthrown. He had caused 
 the blood of thousands and tens of thousands to 
 be poured out upon the plains and hillsides of 
 Europe. From a birth of comparative obscurity 
 Napoleon had pressed on, wading through gore, 
 delighting in carnage and apparently regardless 
 of human sorrow, until he sat upon the impe- 
 rial throne of France. To him the day which 
 dawned upon that eventful field was to witness 
 a struggle which should make him master of 
 Europe and hand his name down to unborn 
 generations as the great master of war and the 
 ablest soldier that ever rode at the head of vic- 
 torious squadrons; or it was to see him beaten, 
 shorn of his power, his name made a hiss and a
 
 198 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 by-word among millions of his race, while his 
 life was to end on the lone surf-beaten island, 
 thousands of miles from the scene of his former 
 achievements and the fields made famous by the 
 brilliancy of his military and almost supernatural 
 genius. The real battle was fought about three 
 miles from the little village of Waterloo. In its 
 old church, monuments have been erected to the 
 memory of the English officers who fell in the 
 fight. Near the church is preserved the boot of 
 the Marquis of Anglesea, who was wounded in 
 the battle and had his leg taken off after it was 
 over. In a house opposite the church, Welling- 
 ton had his headquarters for several days before 
 and after the great conflict, and from it sent 
 the dispatch that announced his victory and the 
 downfall of Bonaparte. 
 
 Three miles further on we reach the little 
 old brick house, barn and garden of Hougue- 
 mont. In these grounds and buildings the great 
 heat of the battle seems to have centered. Wel- 
 lington had, at an early hour in the day, wisely 
 foreseen the importance of this place and sent a 
 large number of his best troops, including the 
 Coldstream Guards, to take possession of and 
 hold the old chateau. Napoleon saw the im-
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 199 
 
 portance of this point and again and again 
 hurled his best regiments against it, but in vain. 
 It was never for one moment taken from the 
 grasp of the brave men who had first occupied 
 it. Thousands were slain and wounded in and 
 about Houguemont. The orchard and trees sur- 
 rounding were mowed down by shot and shell, 
 and the garden strewn with the slain. An old 
 well is still pointed out into which hundreds 
 were thrown. The marks of balls and shells on 
 houses and outbuildings, as well as on the brick 
 wall of the garden, all help to tell the story of 
 the fearful but vain struggle of the Emperor to 
 obtain possession of this, the key to the entire 
 position. The field over which Marshal Ney led 
 the historic charge, and where by his bravery he 
 confirmed his right to the title of " Bravest of 
 the Brave," is pointed out. Also the place 
 where Bonaparte remained while this battle of 
 his final overthrow was being fought on earth. 
 A monument two hundred feet high, has been 
 erected on the spot where the Prince of Orange 
 was wounded while so bravely leading on his 
 men. On this is a bronze lion weighing eight- 
 een tons, made of cannon captured from the 
 French. I ascended this hill by a flight of two
 
 2OO COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 hundred and twenty-five steps, and while the 
 task is one of great fatigue, the view from the top 
 is very wide and extremely grand. The whole 
 field of battle and adjacent country for miles 
 around can be observed at a glance, even the 
 domes and spires of Brussels being plainly seen. 
 About one hundred and thirty thousand troops 
 were engaged in this fearful work of death. The 
 number of killed and wounded was absolutely 
 immense. From about 10 o'clock in the morn- 
 ing till 9 at night, the fearful slaughter continued, 
 terminating finally in the little hamlet of Plan- 
 chenot, and victory at last twined the wreath of 
 glory around the brow of Wellington, while the 
 star of Napoleon's destiny went down to rise 
 no more foreven 
 
 A wail of sorrow swept over land and sea, 
 reaching alike the heart of Brunswick's daugh- 
 ters and those who dwelt under the shadow of 
 the Alps. Erin's widows and orphans wept for 
 the lost and slain, while Scotland's mourning 
 ones sent up to God words of bitter grief amid 
 the mountains and along the banks of the clear 
 lakes of Scotia. France, Prussia, and nearly 
 every country in Europe, for years realized that 
 the angel of death had brought sadness to their
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 2OI 
 
 homes, while the great victory carried joy only 
 to the nations who gained by the fall of the 
 mighty chief. The world cares not for the 
 story of the unsuccessful, but is ever ready to 
 record the achievements of those who win in 
 life's great struggle. The dust of Napoleon 
 Bonaparte rests beneath the gilded dome of the 
 Hotel des Invalides in his beloved city of Paris. 
 The Duke of Wellington found a magnificent 
 repose in the crypt of St. Paul's, London. More 
 than sixty-five years have rolled on since these 
 fertile fields were wet with the blood of slain 
 thousands. The fields of ripening wheat, bow- 
 ing before the breath of gentle winds, now adorn 
 this once fearful place of carnage. Birds are 
 singing and the landscape of wonderful beauty 
 is before us. He who once said, "God is on the 
 side of the strongest battalions," found here his 
 final overthrow. 
 
 "He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle, 
 The sound of the conflict shall awake him no more." 
 
 Good bye to Waterloo. On many a field in 
 our own land as great battles have been fought, 
 and as true bravery has been displayed. The 
 names of such as Antietam, Shiloh and Gettys- 
 burg will live as long as years last. While the
 
 202 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 names of Grant, Sherman, Logan and McPher- 
 son, along with many other Generals of our 
 time, will light up the scroll of fame so long as 
 patriotism is loved and liberty's fires glow in the 
 hearts of men.
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 ENGLAND. 
 
 LONDON, England, July 12, 1887. 
 AM not impressed with the great ability or 
 the wonderful oratory of the British Parlia- 
 ment. When Charles Bradlaugh was in Amer- 
 ica I formed a slight but very pleasant acqaint- 
 ance with him. He urged me in strong terms 
 to call upon him should I ever visit London and 
 not be at all backward in asking for favors at his 
 hands. . Knowing Mr. Bradlaugh to be a mem- 
 ber of Parliament, and remembering his former 
 proffers of service, I wrote and asked for an 
 order permitting me to witness a session. A 
 prompt reply came to my letter. Said he, 
 "Come Thursday night and I will try and get 
 you in, but it will be difficult, as the crowd seek- 
 ing admission will be great that night. Do not 
 come before 5:30 in the afternoon." At about 
 6 o'clock p. m. I dressed in the full costume of
 
 204 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 an American prince, made my way through the 
 upper end of old Westminster Hall and on to 
 the place where I stood among many others, 
 while my card, with name on it, elegantly written 
 by my own hand, was sent to find the great 
 man who had invited me to come. Soon Mr. 
 Bradlaugh made his appearance, and at once 
 had the satisfaction of shaking my little hand. 
 Mr. Bradlaugh informed me quickly that he 
 could not then do anything for me, but if I 
 would kindly wait three-quarters of an hour, he 
 thought I might be permitted to survey the 
 great lights of the British Empire from the gal- 
 lery. He also said he was extremely glad to see 
 me and remembered the time with great pleas- 
 ure when last we met all of which may be true. 
 In less than twenty minutes from that time, 
 and with no aid from Mr. Bradlaugh (one of Ire- 
 land's sons helped me through), I was looking 
 upon a Parliament in full session. Gladstone 
 spoke and spoke well, on the Irish question, of 
 course. He is the only one whose name I re- 
 member or care to recall. The average member 
 of this body is not half the orator in my opin- 
 ion, that the Iowa Legislature contains each ses- 
 sion. The members keep their hats on except
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 205 
 
 when speaking. They loll around the hall, visit 
 each other, and the whole body, so far as dig- 
 nity is concerned, would not compare with one 
 of our nominating conventions. 
 
 The speakers often use such expressions as 
 the following, "His grace," "The honorable gen- 
 tleman," "Learned opponent," and other titles 
 of great respect, and yet with all this verbose 
 display of what appeared like mock courtesy, I 
 could but think that each one was anxious to 
 have the other know that he deemed him a 
 scoundrel of the worst kind. In fact I was re- 
 minded of an incident in the life of Gen. Baker, 
 the old Adjutant-General of Iowa in war times. 
 Iowa soldiers all remember this energetic, warm- 
 
 <_j 
 
 hearted, singular old genius. One day at the 
 Burtis House, in Davenport, the General was 
 talking to a St. Louis man in regard to some 
 contract or business matter, and remarked in his 
 quick, boisterous manner, "You know this is 
 not true." Said the gentleman in reply, "Gen. 
 Baker, I don't want you to tell me I lie." "Oh, 
 no," said the General, "I don't wish for one mo- 
 ment to convey to you such an idea. You mean 
 all right, and as a gentleman I would scorn to 
 doubt your word no, not for a moment, and if
 
 206 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 I have conveyed any such a thought, or in the 
 least wounded your feelings, I most humbly ask 
 your pardon; sir, I ask . your pardon. I was 
 hasty and thoughtless, and did an abrupt and an 
 unkind thing, sir." Hands were shaken, both 
 adjourned to the bar, and just as a perfect rec- 
 onciliation seemed to have taken place, the Gen- 
 eral turned to the man and said, "It is just my 
 fool way. When I hear a man lie so like h 1 
 as you did, I must always tell him of it." 
 
 Gladstone is an old man, but a man that age 
 has ripened. He is well posted in all that be- 
 longs to ancient as well as modern literature. 
 Perhaps he is a little vain (I cannot see the good 
 taste of his accepting that silver box from the 
 people of New York City the other day), but 
 take him altogether, I think his heart is in the 
 right place, and he is a good old man, a sincere 
 friend of Ireland, because he is on the side of 
 right. 
 
 Poor old Ireland ! How often the story of her 
 wrongs is told by men who really care nothing 
 for her, but seek to aggrandize themselves and 
 secure benefits by joining in the lamentations of 
 an oppressed people. I do not fully understand 
 this Irish question; but as near as I can under-
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 2O; 
 
 stand the matter, the people of that green island 
 have for centuries been treated in a manner op- 
 pressive and wrong. They now ask that Eng- 
 land accord to them the riofht to have more voice 
 
 o 
 
 in their own government. Our fathers, in that 
 stirring time which just preceded the Revolu- 
 tionary war, did not at first ask for a separation 
 entire from the mother country. It was only for 
 more of those rights of self-government which 
 the inborn principle of liberty leads each manly 
 heart to aspire to. Those demands were refused 
 by the mother country a fearful war followed. 
 Hamlet and hillside, valley and plain alike were 
 stained with the red gore of battle. At last the 
 seven years' struggle was at an end, and the 
 news went out, over land and sea, that an infant 
 child was born among earth's nations, whose 
 future growth should be a marvel to mankind, 
 whose honor should be bright as the sun, and 
 whose life, we trust, shall be as enduring as the 
 march of time. The Irish people feel much as 
 our fathers felt. They have helped to make the 
 British Empire what it is foremost among the 
 nations of the earth. In India, among the islands 
 of the sea, at Waterloo, and wherever British 
 valor has triumphed, the Irish soldier has shared
 
 208 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 the danger and deserves to share the glory of 
 the Englishman and the Scotchman. To him 
 the green island is indeed the gem of the sea. 
 Her legends, her songs and her stories thrill his 
 heart with joy. From the day of St. Patrick's 
 strange career, down through all wars and mis- 
 fortunes, the history of Ireland is one that ever 
 fills an Irish heart with deep emotion. 
 
 The plea is, give us more liberty, over-awe us 
 not with soldiers, but withdraw your menacing 
 army. Give us the right to govern our land, 
 make pleasant our homes, in short, treat us as 
 men, for, by so doing, you will bind us to you 
 with a golden cord more enduring than the 
 power of an army, and we will join in the song 
 of gladness which shall live when the roll of the 
 vanishing drums that once called men to battle 
 shall be heard in our land no more.
 
 LETTER IX. 
 SCOTLAND. 
 
 AYR, Scotland, July 13, 1887. 
 
 CAME down here to visit this, the birthplace 
 of Scotland's great poet, Robert Burns. I 
 found a wonderfully pleasant town and as good 
 a little hotel as I have been in since I landed in 
 Europe. I have such a nice cosy little bed- 
 room, elegantly furnished; take my meals in a 
 small dining-room, just as nice as good taste 
 and plenty of money can make it. My landlord 
 is a pleasant little fellow, weighing about two 
 hundred and eighty pounds, while his wife is a 
 kind-hearted, motherly woman, who knows how 
 and is willing to work. So you see my lines 
 have fallen in pleasant ways. 
 
 To-day I walked out nearly three miles to the 
 straw-thatched cottage where Burns was born. 
 The room in which he first saw the light has a
 
 210 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 
 
 stone floor, and at the time of his birth had but 
 one window, and that only fifteen inches square. 
 In later days another window has been added. 
 The bed stands in a small recess just large 
 enough to contain it. Here in 1759 the child 
 was born. You will remember this is the same 
 year in which Wolf gained the great victory at 
 Quebec destroying the power of France in 
 America. It was also the last year of the reign 
 of George II.; also the grandest period in the life 
 of Pitt, as well as a most glorious page in the 
 history of Great Britain, George III. beginning 
 his long reign in 1760. 
 
 The birth of the world's most famous poet, 
 William Shakespeare, at Stratford-on-Avon, in 
 1564, was in a house not unlike the one where 
 Burns was born, no evidences of wealth being 
 found in either. How true it is that many of 
 earth's wisest and most gifted sons and daugh- 
 ters have begun life only to struggle with pov- 
 erty and find the pathway of success hedged in 
 by all the thorns and trials to which the poor are 
 ever subjected. 
 
 For many years the house of Burns' nativity, 
 like that of Shakespeare's, was left to decay. 
 The old wooden chairs, circular table, dresser,
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 2 I I 
 
 plate rack, and quaint furniture which did duty 
 over one hundred and fifty years ago in the 
 lowly cottage, are there now. In an addition of 
 later years are kept his old brass candlestick, 
 walking cane, manuscripts of his poems, and 
 the spinning-wheel of Highland Mary. About a 
 quarter of a mile from the cottage, on the right- 
 hand side of the road, is the roofless old church 
 known as "Alloway's Kirk." It \vas built in 
 1516, and stands in a graveyeard filled with old 
 graves, among which are the tombs of Robert 
 Burns' father and John Lauchlin, known in song 
 as "Souter Johnny." It was in this old church 
 that Tarn O'Shanter, seated on his gray mare 
 Meg, saw the orgies take place (referred to by 
 the poet), while he was on his way from the tav- 
 ern in Ayr, across the old bridge of Doon, his 
 brain no doubt badly addled on account of too 
 many potations. The witch chased him across 
 the old bridge, which is just beyond the monu- 
 ment and on the other side of the street. The 
 monument is a fine work of art and stands upon 
 a hill overlooking the fast-flowing Doon; it con- 
 tains a beautiful statue of the poet and a copy 
 of what I deem his best poem, containing this 
 grand stanza:
 
 2 I 2 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 "Stand, the ground's your own, my braves 
 Will you give it up to slaves? 
 Will you look for greener graves? 
 Hope ye mercy still?" 
 
 The name of Burns as a poet will live, and 
 generations unborn will honor it so long as lit- 
 erature is admired and the power of song con- 
 tinues to thrill the hearts of men. He had his 
 faults great, glaring ones and what child of 
 genius has not? He died at the early age of 
 thirty-seven. Like the world's greatest painter 
 Raphael, who died at thirty-four, he was cut 
 down in early manhood. In death's hour, as in 
 birth's, poverty was his inheritance. In an Edin- 
 burg churchyard I saw the marble slab which, at 
 his own expense, he placed above the grave of 
 the young and gifted poet, Ferguson. Poor as 
 he was, his generosity was great and he had a 
 warm heart for the unfortunate and a hand ever 
 ready to relieve distress. Ma;iy have had what 
 he had not, namely, power to amend and oppor- 
 tunity to change the course of life from the low 
 and groveling to the noble and the pure. 
 
 May we not throw the mantle of charity over 
 his faults, commend the poet-bard of "Scotia" 
 for the good he has done, and ready in his better 
 moments to do, and with the hand of affection
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 2 I 3 
 
 strew flowers upon his tomb, forgetting his faults 
 and allowing the tear of regret to blot out the 
 story of his darker pages, while memory keeps 
 in grateful regard the recollection of his kind- 
 ness of heart and deep sympathies with the un- 
 fortunate of earth. In his own glowing lines: 
 
 "Then gently scan your brother man, 
 
 Still gentler sister woman, 
 Though they may gang a-kenning wrang, 
 
 To step aside is human; 
 Then at the balance let's be mute, 
 
 We never can adjust it; 
 What's done we partly may compute, 
 
 But know not what's resisted."
 
 LETTER X. 
 SCOTLAND. 
 
 AYR, Scotland, July 16, 1887. 
 HIS has been a day of excitement as well 
 J^ as amusement in this grand and historic old 
 town of Ayr. Of late handbills have appeared 
 on the streets, in hotels and upon walls all 
 around the city, announcing that July 16 was to 
 be celebrated in Ayr by a grand exhibition of 
 athletic sports and other games peculiar to the 
 Highlands of Scotland. Early this morning the 
 people began to gather, railroad trains, boats, 
 carts and wagons bringing in the multitude from 
 cities, villages, hamlets, and from the country as 
 well. Among the throng came the man who 
 blows the pipes, as in Scotland his presence is 
 deemed necessary at every amusement gather- 
 ing. The piper wears a strange costume indeed. 
 His shoes and stockings are good, and worn just 
 where they belong, The hat, coat, shawl and
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 2 I 5 
 
 upper adornments are of variegated colors and 
 extremely picturesque. Between the bottom of 
 the upper wardrobe and top of the bottom por- 
 tion, there is a section unoccupied by dress of 
 any kind. In such a costume on one of our 
 prairies in an Iowa blizzard, I should think there 
 would be an uncomfortable sense of coldness in 
 the neighborhood of the knees. While the 
 dance, which made a great figure in the after- 
 noon amusements, was going on, I observed 
 that the Highland fling at times caused the 
 absence of continued clothing to be fearfully 
 apparent. I think our American Indians would 
 delight in the plumes, cockades and strangely- 
 colored dress of the Highlanders. For hours 
 the queer, droning notes of the bagpipe floated 
 out over the field and pierced the ears of all, the 
 player slowly marching around a platform and 
 seeming to throw his whole soul into the work. 
 This music reminds me of the wild wail of one 
 who is in a fearful state of nightmare. Still it is 
 true that children in the north of Scotland are 
 often lulled to sleep by the strains of the pib- 
 roch (which is the polite name for this instru- 
 ment of torture.) 
 
 Throwing the hammer is done with a round
 
 2i6 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 piece of iron weighing about fourteen pounds. 
 Through it is a long stick or handle. The 
 thrower grasps the handle with both hands, and 
 after twirling the hammer a few times around 
 his head, lets loose, and it goes many yards be- 
 hind him. Throwing the caber is a peculiar 
 Scotch bit of athletic sport. A long stick about 
 one-fourth as big as a telegraph pole is stood up 
 on the small end. A man then grasps it, keeps 
 it erect, runs a short distance, and aims to throw 
 it in such a manner that the end he grasps shall 
 turn clear over and be from him when it falls. 
 If he does not thus reverse ends with the pole 
 the throw does not count. Other athletic sports, 
 such as racing, jumping and pole vaulting, are 
 not unfamiliar to us in America. The wonderful 
 game of base-ball these people seem ignorant 
 of. In this their education has been neglected.
 
 LETTER XI. 
 SCOTLAND. 
 
 AYR, Scotland, July 17, 1887. 
 'O-DAY has been a busy one to me. At 9 
 o'clock in the morning I crossed the old 
 bridge of Ayr and attended religious services. 
 This old bridge (or "brig" as Burns called it) was 
 erected in 12 15, by two maiden ladies. Tradi- 
 tion says both their lovers were drowned one 
 night in attempting to ford the "Ayr." In con- 
 sequence of this bereavement the two young 
 ladies devoted their entire fortunes to building 
 this narrow stone bridge across the river. It is 
 not used as a carriage-way at all, only by people 
 on foot. The faces of the two ladies were in 
 image preserved on one of the stones, but time 
 has nearly obliterated these. Nearly seven hun- 
 dred years have elapsed since this pathway of 
 gray stone was made to span the treacherous 
 river. During this time Ayr has witnessed much
 
 218 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 bloodshed, her streets having often been the 
 scene of fiercely-fought battles. 
 
 It was here that Sir William Wallace was at 
 one time a prisoner. Here, while in power, he 
 burned many hundreds of his prisoners. From 
 this place the brother of the great Robert Bruce 
 set sail, at the head of a magnificent army, on his 
 most unfortunate expedition to Ireland. In later 
 days Cromwell was here and left a pathway of 
 death and destruction, as was his custom every- 
 where. His old fort, now a ruin, I passed this 
 morning on my way down to Ayr harbor. On 
 a by-street I found over a door the date 1583. 
 This was on one of the old houses for which Ayr 
 is famous. 
 
 There are two statues of Sir William Wal- 
 lace in the city; one is in what is known as 
 "Wallace's Tower," the other in a niche of a 
 new building said to stand on the spot where 
 the prison stood in which he was confined while 
 on his journey to London to be executed. Wal- 
 lace and Bruce are the heroes of Scotland and 
 their names will be joyfully remembered and 
 praises sung so long as the hearts of Scotland's 
 sons and daughters are thrilled by the sentiments 
 of patriotism and beat in harmony with that di-
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 2 1 9 
 
 vine impulse which makes martyrdom God-like, 
 and bravery heaven-born when in the interest of 
 liberty and of home. 
 
 In a wagon drawn by one horse, over a road 
 absolutely perfect, in company with my land- 
 lord, Mr. Steen, and his family, I took a ride 
 of seven miles this afternoon, along- by the sea. 
 Behind us we left Ayr. Away off, fifty miles or 
 more, we could see Ben Lomond, the king of 
 Scotch mountains, his blue summit seeming to 
 kiss the clouds. To our right, twenty miles 
 away (but appearing not more than five), Aran, 
 with its beautiful hills, appears like a gem set in 
 the blue depths of the sea. Ailsa Craig is a 
 beautiful lone peak rising from the water. It is 
 only three miles around it. This singular rock 
 is nine miles from the nearest mainland. It is 
 called by sailors, "Paddy's Milestone." Wild 
 fowls inhabit this barren rock, and millions of 
 them may be seen about its summit at all times. 
 
 We passed Greenan Castle, a small stone 
 building on a rock by the seaside. This crumb- 
 ling old ruin is said to be about seven centuries 
 old. We also visited Dunure Castle, an im- 
 mense shattered ruin of the thirteenth century. 
 In that grim old kitchen one of the early lords
 
 220 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 
 
 of the place, tortured by fire and caused the 
 death of the Abbot of Cross Ragnel for refusing 
 to give up his abbey lands. 
 
 Oh! it is wonderful what sources of amuse- 
 ment these old lords and warriors were pos- 
 sessed of in the days of long ago. Each hill- 
 side and road-crossing has its story of death, 
 or of torture worse than death inflicted by the 
 strong upon the less powerful. Ivy-clad ruins, 
 broken arches, and even altars, once sanctified 
 to religious and holy requirements, are now 
 pointed out to the traveler as localities where 
 deeds of blackest crimes have been perpetrated 
 and innocent blood spilled by the hands of men 
 whose hearts were unsoftened by the finer feel- 
 ings of humanity, and to whom mercy's gentle 
 pleadings were as powerless as the breath of the 
 evening breeze upon the giant oak. 
 
 We returned by way of Burns' monument and 
 his birthplace, crossing the Doon on the new 
 bridge, and gazing upon the old one where it 
 spans the river in a single arch, about three 
 hundred yards above the new. In driving out 
 we passed the little straw-thatched cottage of 
 Burns' niece, Miss Bigg. She only died about 
 one year ago. She was kindly remembered,
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 221 
 
 and I am pleased to know that Americans were 
 among her most liberal benefactors, and did much 
 to help drive poverty from the door of one in 
 whose veins ran the blood of a poet whose 
 memory we all delight to honor. 
 
 My landlord, Mr. Steen, is quite a philanthro- 
 pist. He certainly knows how to keep a good 
 hotel. He and his good wife are a strong team, 
 and make it very comfortable and home-like for 
 the traveler who sojourns for a time with them. 
 Yesterday I found him in a small house sur- 
 rounded by barrels of all kinds of liquors. From 
 one he had drawn about five gallons of whisky, 
 and was adding to it about the same amount of 
 water. "What are you doing?" said I. "Blend- 
 ing," replied he. "I do this in the cause of tem- 
 perance. The more water I can put in, the less 
 whisky will be drank. So you see it is a healthy 
 blend, for a man would have to drink a great deal 
 of this before he would become drunk." The law 
 allows an innkeeper to sell intoxicating drinks 
 on Sundays to travelers only, while it punishes 
 severely for selling to citizens of the town. 
 Many resort to the traveling dodge in order to 
 obtain a nip of the ardent. Sunday morning a 
 person approached the landlady, who was in the
 
 222 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 
 
 bar, and said, " I am traveling- and wish to ob- 
 tain a drink." With a woman's quick wit she 
 grasped the situation and said, "Glang awah, 
 your boots too mickle block to hev kem a long 
 jerney." Go away, your boots are too well 
 blacked to have come a long journey. 
 
 Men, women and children drink liquor in 
 Scotland. Ragged, barefooted, blear-eyed old 
 and young. I can but think drunkenness is the 
 greatest curse of this most beautiful land. I can 
 do nothing to better the matter, and will therefore 
 keep silent. Many here could say as the lady 
 did to the clergyman when he asked, "Sister, 
 what do you think of the doctrine of total de- 
 pravity?" Said she, "I think it is a good doc- 
 trine if you only live up to it, and I try to do so." 
 If drunkenness be a good doctrine, it is certainly 
 well lived up to in this land.
 
 LETTER XII. 
 IRELAND. 
 
 LONDONDERRY, Ireland, July 28, 1887. 
 
 j OR the past few weeks I have been travel- 
 ing at a rapid rate, and now find myself in 
 this quaint "city on a hill," famous for the mas- 
 sive wall which surrounds it. This wall was built 
 a little more than two hundred years ago, and is 
 said to have been a great protection to Derry 
 during the siege of 1688. 
 
 No matter how much we love to trace the line 
 of history, we cannot help growing weary of too 
 much of one thing. And I confess I have grown 
 tired of old castles, ruins and stories of blood 
 and carnage. A man in Iowa once said to me, 
 "My son Theophilus is a strange boy. He is 
 full of 'erratic irrepressibility.' " An hour later 
 I saw the young man departing from the nearest 
 saloon, and the toe of the barkeeper very near 
 to his retreating form. I thought he was pretty
 
 224 COL - SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 full, but whether erratic irrepressibility was the 
 correct name for his trouble or not, was a 
 question in my mind. At any rate Theophilus 
 seemed weary at the close of the seance. 
 
 I have grown tired of gazing- upon crumbling 
 arch and ivy-covered abbey, and being told of 
 dreadful slaughter, murder most foul, and crimes 
 so black that one cannot help shuddering at the 
 mention of the same. How Lord Knockumstiff 
 beheaded the big galoot of madman's castle; or 
 how Madam Pinkimboth poured boiling lead in 
 the ear of Lady Fardown, is no longer fresh or 
 pleasant intelligence to me. The drawing and 
 quartering of men, women and children, burning 
 their homes and desolating God's fair earth in 
 the olden time, is a story heard everywhere and 
 often. But to me it is no longer new and has 
 always been far from cheerful. 
 
 It is said that an old lady when about to die, 
 called her children around her and thus cheered 
 them with parting words, " Dear children, when 
 I am dead and gone, you will often think how 
 tired your poor mother has got thrashing you." 
 How cheerful those children must have felt when 
 the fond old mother pegged out. Old Deacon 
 Bender, of New York State, said, " I don't mind
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 225 
 
 seeing horses trot, for I don't think it hurts 
 them; I like to see them trot myself. What I 
 hate about it is, I don't like to see the people 
 enjoy themselves as they always do when the 
 races are going- on." Said Mrs. L., of Marshall- 
 town, to Mrs. A., "Do you think Mrs. E. enjoys 
 good health?" "No," was the reply, "I don't 
 think Mrs. E. would enjoy good health if she 
 had it." 
 
 Some men, and some women, too, are only 
 made happy by seeing others made unhappy; 
 and it seems as if the history of ages is but the 
 repetition of a life-time. Much of it is so dark 
 and cruel that its contemplation is better calcu- 
 lated to make one gloomy and sad than to give 
 joy, hope and sunshine. 
 
 Now I wish to write, and, for a few moments, 
 think, in a new channel. I will talk about the 
 cost of travel and how to get along. Changes 
 are few in this land, and particularly is this true 
 of Egypt and Palestine. When I first visited 
 the Pyramids I rode a donkey and was ferried 
 across the Nile on a very poor little flat-boat. 
 The last time I rode in a carriage across an iron 
 bridge clear out to the edge of the desert and 
 under the shadow of grand old Cheops. Then
 
 226 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 we could only ascend the river in a boat (Daho- 
 beah.) Now we can go by rail hundreds of 
 miles up the Nile and survey the fertile fields 
 of Egypt, while rattling along twenty miles an 
 hour. Jerusalem has changed but little. We 
 still journey from Joppa, over the plains of 
 Sharon, climb the rugged hills of Judea, travel- 
 ing over the narrow paths of two thousand 
 years ago, and finding the road and the city just 
 about as we found both more than twenty years 
 since. Rome is now, as it has been for centuries, 
 the grandest place on earth for art and archi- 
 tecture. It is the depository of the best prod- 
 ucts of antiquity from all lands. A few new 
 hotels and a few less mendicants attracts the at- 
 tention of the traveler. The shores of the Bay 
 of Naples are as beautiful as ever. Pompeii, 
 Cumae and Herculaneum, the old cities of this 
 classic coast, are each year adding new treasures 
 to the world's store of human art and handiwork 
 long buried in the sand and ashes of nearly 
 twenty centuries ago. In travel, while the speed 
 of railways has not been materially increased, 
 the comfort of third-class travel is far greater 
 than it was twenty or even seven years ago. 
 Now, on all through trains the third-class pas-
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 227 
 
 sengers have good cushions to ride on, and one 
 can go a few hundred miles in this way both 
 rapidly and comfortably. On short distances, 
 the third-class cars are not much better than in 
 the days of twenty-one years ago, when I first 
 tried them in England, Italy, Egypt, and many 
 other lands on this side of the Atlantic. 
 
 A person may now make a tour at an expense 
 about as follows: New York to Glasgow or Liv- 
 erpool and back to New York, on the Anchor 
 Line or Guion Line, for $100. Suppose you 
 land in Glasgow, $25 more will take you to 
 Edinburg, through the Trossachs, down to Ayr 
 for one day, and land you in London; London 
 to Paris, $30; from Paris to Geneva, $35; Geneva 
 to Rome, $40; Rome to Naples, $25; Naples to 
 Jerusalem, via Alexandria and Cairo, taking a 
 view of the Pyramids, and going beyond Jerusa- 
 lem to the Dead Sea, $175. This will allow you, 
 in going or coming, to visit Antwerp, Rotterdam 
 and Amsterdam, take a look at Waterloo, and a 
 run through Ireland. Add to this amount about 
 $3 a day for board, and sixty days for the trip 
 from Liverpool or Glasgow, back to Liverpool 
 or Glasgow again, which will be plenty of time, 
 and the entire expense, first-class, will be not far
 
 228 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 from $620. My figures are for the double jour- 
 ney that is, when I say London to Paris, I 
 mean there and back. Of course guide-books 
 and guides will cost something. Beggars abound 
 in Italy, Egypt and Palestine. Gratuities are 
 expected by the servants everywhere, and all 
 this helps to swell the sum total of expenses. 
 
 I have been around the world, when on one 
 trip I traveled above fifty thousand miles, and 
 expenses ran well up into the thousands. I have 
 journeyed through Arabia and upper Egypt 
 where my expenses were more than $20 a day. 
 I once made a journey from Nigni Novgorod, in 
 Russia, to Tobolsk, on the Obi river, in Siberia, 
 all the way overland, when it cost even more 
 than in Arabia. I have visited the Holy Land 
 and all the European countries alluded to except 
 Russia, including Egypt from Iowa to Iowa 
 again, making a seven month's tour, on $800. 
 The present tour will be about a three months' 
 one, and I expect to get around from New York 
 to New York again, on $550, first-class all the 
 time except one journey from Glasgow to Lon- 
 don, third-class. 
 
 I feel sure that a man can make a trip with his 
 wife to Jerusalem and back to New York, visit-
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 229 
 
 ing- Genoa, Pisa, Florence, Rome, Naples, Mes- 
 sina, Mt. /Etna, (of course, Naples includes Pom- 
 peii, Herculaneum, Cumae and coast,) Cairo, Pyr- 
 amids, Holland, Belgium, spending sixty days off 
 the ocean, all first-class and in good shape, for 
 $1,100, or go as far as Rome and return, on $800. 
 Still, I would advise a couple in starting to have 
 an extra $100 or $200 along for emergencies. In 
 starting on a trip of this kind carry but little 
 baggage. It is wonderful how little one can get 
 along with when they try, or have to do so. 
 Strong shoes or boots, thick soles one pair is 
 enough; having woolen clothes, one suit I get 
 along with quite well, in fact it is all I have with 
 me. I carry in my hand my entire baggage. I 
 am not well posted on the necessary wardrobe 
 of a lady, but have this to suggest: Pick out 
 just what you know you are obliged to have and 
 then take about half of it. You will get along, 
 never fear. I would give this advice to all in start- 
 ing off on a tour: Take along with you a kind 
 heart as well as a wise head. Do not feel called 
 upon to correct the religious errors or mind the 
 politics of the people you come in contact with. 
 Remember you can be true to your own country 
 all the time without saying unkind words of the
 
 230 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 
 
 nation you for a time sojourn in. Nothing bet- 
 ter than travel brings out the truth of the poet 
 and makes you realize its power: 
 
 This world is not so bad a world 
 As some would like to make it; 
 
 But whether good or bad, 
 
 It all depends on how you take it.
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 IRELAND 2. 
 
 GIANT'S CAUSEWAY, Ireland, July 29, 1887. 
 
 T has always seemed to me that to form or 
 give a hasty opinion on any subject of great 
 importance was unwise, if not criminal. I have 
 in my wanderings through Ireland, tried hard to 
 come to some definite opinion in regard to the 
 great question which now agitates this land. To 
 say I have made a failure would be to use a mild 
 term for the result of my effort. 
 
 Years ago, in the early days of Iowa justice, 
 a man was tried in Iowa City for horse-stealing. 
 Many witnesses were called during the progress 
 of the trial, and the testimony was extremely 
 contradictory. The Judge, in charging the jury, 
 said, "Gentlemen, it has been proven that the 
 defendant stole the horse, and that he did not. 
 Also that the horse was of great value, and that 
 he was worthless. It has been clearly proven
 
 232 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 
 
 that the complainant never had a horse. The 
 defendant has established, by many witnesses, 
 the fact of his being an upright, honest man, 
 deeply religious and truthful. Other witnesses 
 have testified that he was a scoundrel of the 
 deepest dye, and not to be believed under oath. 
 You will take this case under advisement and 
 return a verdict in harmony with the evidence 
 if you can. Do your best and come to some 
 conclusion. So far as the opinion of the Court 
 is concerned, it has none, nor has it the remot- 
 est idea of how the matter should be decided." 
 The jury retired to wrestle with the case, and 
 finally brought in a verdict of acquittal, and rec- 
 ommended that the sheriff be compelled to pay 
 the costs. 
 
 Now, the Irish question is a puzzle to me, and 
 to many who are far more wise than I. It is 
 harder to understand than the case referred to. 
 In the north, here, times are good. Very little 
 abject poverty is found, and I hear but little said 
 in favor of "home-rule." In the south and west 
 of Ireland the poverty is great. Rents are too 
 high, and people cannot pay them. Many are 
 turned out of house and home (evicted) by the 
 great land-owners. Distress prevails all through
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 233 
 
 the country, and a wail of sorrow goes up to 
 God from the oppressed and poor, like that 
 which ascended from the afflicted children of 
 Israel, in the olden time, when they hung their 
 harps on the willows which skirted the cold 
 streams of Babylon. 
 
 In general the Protestants are not in favor, or 
 at least are lukewarm in regard to home-rule, 
 fearing that it may be to the advantage of 
 Catholics, while the latter are enthusiastic home- 
 rulers (so far as I can learn) and warm admirers 
 of both Gladstone and his policy. Much as I 
 admire him, I can but regret that he accepted 
 that silver box from New York parties, a short 
 time since. The old man was given to under- 
 stand that it was a contribution from his thou- 
 sands of admirers in America's greatest city; 
 that it came from the poor, liberty-loving, hard 
 toilers of the city of New York. English papers 
 that are not friendly to Mr. Gladstone or his pol- 
 icy, ridicule the idea, and ask would Americans 
 of the class named, choose the son of a Jew 
 banker and an editor born in Germany, to pre- 
 sent the gift of toiling thousands to him? That 
 portion of the "press" which is friendly to Glad- 
 stone, and works with him, expresses the feel-
 
 234 COL- SANFORDS LETTERS. 
 
 ings of thousands when it says Mr. Gladstone 
 did an unwise act when he accepted the silver 
 box. I am of the same opinion. 
 
 Traveling in Ireland may not make one wise 
 in regard to just what laws are best to govern 
 the Irish people, and make bright their future. 
 Careful observation will convince the traveler 
 that vast sums of money sent from America to 
 help along the cause of liberty, is foolishly 
 squandered, and worse than thrown away. One 
 fact is very cheering, which is this: The kind- 
 hearted boys and girls from the "Green Isle," 
 who have found homes in America, are each 
 year sending back thousands of dollars to the 
 fathers, mothers and loved ones here. This 
 money has been a source of so much comfort 
 and aid to the poor and struggling ones, that a 
 benediction goes out from the hearts of millions 
 in Ireland in behalf of those beyond the great 
 ocean who have divided their plenty with dis- 
 tressed kindred in the old home. To me this is 
 one of the most beautiful traits in Irish character. 
 
 The other day in Londonderry I saw a coach 
 to which four horses were attached, standing in 
 front of the court house. On the box sat a 
 driver and footman, each dressed in crimson
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 235 
 
 and white, soldiers were drawn up in line, and a 
 great crowd of people lingered in the street. 
 Soon a man with a wig on his head and long 
 robe about him, came down the steps and en- 
 tered the carnage with a stately air. A bugle 
 sounded and the coach was driven rattling down 
 the street, followed by a guard of soldiers, while 
 the waiting crowd soon dispered. Who was this 
 big man? you will ask. It was the Judge of 
 the Court being driven to his boarding-house. 
 Think for a moment of Judge Henderson or 
 Bradley in such a rig as this in Marshalltown, 
 while Caswell, Sutton, Boardman and other le- 
 gal lights, should stand around with hats off, bow- 
 ing to the mighty Judge and saying, "Me lud, I 
 hope your highness feels comfortable." This non- 
 sense, fuss and feathers, may do in this land, but 
 not in America now, nor in the future, I trust. 
 
 I did not intend in this letter to write about 
 great political questions, or to dwell at length on 
 my inability to comprehend them. Were I to 
 write only about what I do not know, there 
 would be no end to my communications. My 
 purpose is to say a few words in regard to the 
 Giant's Causeway. I will not try to describe it, 
 for my poor pen would fail to do half justice to
 
 236 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 so grand a theme. For miles along" this storm- 
 beaten coast the perpendicular and often over- 
 hang-ing bluffs rise to a height of from two hun- 
 dred and fifty to nearly four hundred feet. The 
 rock is broken, not as it usually is in regular or 
 irregular shapes, but in great pieces in form 
 more like a honey cell than anything else. 
 These columns or cells are from ten to thirty 
 feet long, and as regular in shape as if the hand 
 of an artist had planed and matched them to- 
 gether. Some are three-sided, others five, some 
 six, a few seven. Once in awhile one may be 
 found nine-sided, but a four-square one I did 
 not find. Nearly five acres of space, much of it 
 washed by the ocean, is bare; over this we may 
 walk, and if the time be taken, can count about 
 sixty thousand separate columns. The exposed 
 tops being beneath our feet, how far down they 
 extend no one knows. Take a big piece of hon- 
 eycomb, each cell being an exact geometrical 
 figure, three, five, seven, eight or nine-sided, and 
 from one foot to eighteen inches in diameter. 
 Imagine this great comb to cover from five to 
 seven acres of ground, each cell fitting as nearly 
 in its place as if the hand of a master had ad- 
 justed it. Then fancy the waters of the ever-
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 237 
 
 restless ocean rolling at your feet on one side 
 and the grand amphitheater of towering rocks 
 bounding your view on the other, and you may 
 have a faint idea of the grandeur and majestic 
 beauty of the spot. You drink the pure water 
 from the "giant's well," gaze upon the wild and 
 fantastic scenery all about you. In fancy see the 
 pictures of castles, beasts and men, created by 
 nature in her moments of upheaval. Listen to 
 the roar of the ever-dashing waters, notice the 
 nicety of adjustment each stone pillar has for its 
 fellow, in wonder and awe drink in the whole 
 scene, and you will willingly say earth has no 
 grander or more majestic view than this. Like our 
 own Niagara, the Giant's Causeway grows upon 
 us, each visit revealing new beauties and in- 
 creasing our admiration of this, Ireland's master- 
 piece of natural art. 
 
 Often have I looked upon a crumbling wall 
 and broken arch in Rome and upon the plains 
 of Greece. I have walked the streets of Jerusa- 
 lem and seen her famous pools and ruined, old 
 temples. In India and in China, human handi- 
 work has met my gaze, older than the line of 
 well-defined historic truth. From the summit of 
 Egypt's greatest and oldest pyramid I have sur-
 
 238 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 veyed the plains of the Nile and cast my eyes 
 upon that Sphinx which has stood like a gigantic 
 and ever-silent sentinel, keeping watch over the 
 rise and fall of najtions for more than forty cen- 
 turies; but here beneath our feet God has placed 
 masonry so massive, so intricate and so beauti- 
 ful, and withal so old that the songs of Homer 
 are as yesterday, and the most ancient of human 
 art an event of this morning when measured by 
 the standard of human comparison. Two im- 
 mense caves extend hundreds of feet into the 
 mountain of rocks. We enter them in our boats 
 from the sea, floating in a narrow channel upon 
 the deep, green water; awake the echoes by 
 shouting and singing, return to the place of de- 
 parture, being tossed by the great billows while 
 on the way, then climb the hill, enjoy a good 
 meal at Mrs. Kane's Royal hotel, and finally re- 
 tire for the night, feeling that we have surveyed 
 one of God's most wonderful specimens of su- 
 perb handiwork.
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 IRELAND 3. 
 
 GIANT'S CAUSEWAY, Ireland, July 30, 1887. 
 HY do we laugh? The fact that man is 
 a being of mirthfulness is as old as the 
 page of history. It comes down the pathway of 
 receding ages, hand in hand with the truth, 
 "Man was made to mourn." That there is a 
 time to laugh and a time to weep, is written on 
 the pages of the dim past, as well as those of 
 the living present. The reason of this has been 
 sought for by many, and theories both wise and 
 unwise have been offered by persons of rare 
 intellectual ability and power. Still to me the 
 question, "Why do we laugh?" is unanswered. 
 That the element of surprise enters largely into 
 the cause of mirth, I do not for a moment doubt. 
 One writer says it is the unlooked-for happen- 
 ing, or the unexpected coming to pass. Thou- 
 sands of unlooked-for events may happen and
 
 240 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 unexpected things come to pass without causing 
 the feeling of mirth. Still laughter seldom comes 
 without a little of this element of the unexpected. 
 In fact, surprise seems to enter largely into the 
 production of laughter. No one smiles at the 
 sight of a dog trotting along the highway, but let 
 the same animal be seen coming up the aisle of a 
 church with an earnest look upon his open coun- 
 tenance, and a ripple of laughter will play upon 
 the faces of both old and young in that congre- 
 gation. I have seen a cow and an empty salt 
 barrel both in a school-house yard, and no per- 
 son laughed at the sight. Ten minutes later the 
 cow passed by the school-house at the height of 
 her speed, with the salt-barrel fast on her head, 
 she bellowing at the top of her voice, while the 
 school-teacher and all laughed most heartily at 
 the strange sight. It was a surprise to all, the 
 cow included, I think. 
 
 A lady in an eastern State was telling me of 
 the bright achievements of her son, and his rapid 
 progress in school. A mother's tongue told the 
 story in such a manner that I did not grow weary 
 of hearing it. At last she said, "Let us walk 
 over to the school-house it is but a few steps. 
 Our visit will please the teacher and be a sur-
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 241 
 
 prise to Bobby" (the name of the loved boy.) 
 We went, and while our visit may not have sur- 
 prised Bobby much, or pleased him greatly, 
 his situation did surprise us most wonderfully. 
 Among about seventy-five scholars, Bobby 
 loomed up conspicuously. He was sitting on a 
 stool with a dunce-cap on his head nearly three 
 feet in length. Oh ! it was a surprise. The 
 teacher looked troubled, the mother sad. Bobby 
 was a picture to gaze upon. I turned away, and 
 when unobserved, laughed till 1 could hardly 
 stand. . 
 
 Some men are slow to understand the humor- 
 ous side of life or to take a joke. The English 
 and Scotch are of this class, while, as a rule, the 
 Irish are quick to see a point. The story is told 
 of an English gentleman and an American rid- 
 ing along together, and coming to a guide-post 
 by the roadside, on a board which w r as nailed to 
 the post, was the following, "Six miles to Rugby. 
 If you cannot read this, go on to the blacksmith 
 shop and the smith will come and read it for 
 you." The American laughed heartily at the 
 queer instructions, while the Englishman looked 
 sad and declared he could see nothing mirth- 
 provoking in the sign. One week later he met
 
 242 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 the American and said to him, "I can now see 
 what you were laughing at. You were thinking 
 what if the blacksmith should not be at home, 
 how could he come and read the sign for any 
 one." Then he laughed at his stupidity in not 
 seeing the point sooner. 
 
 A honey-bee or hornet, in plain, every-day 
 dress, engaged in honest toil, does not by its 
 actions even suggest a humorous thought, but 
 let that same little body become awakened to the 
 necessity of a little outside amusement and wend 
 its way to an assembled congregation of men, 
 women and children, what a fund of amusement 
 it will afford to some and active business to 
 others, surprising all by its unceasing attention 
 to the work in hand. I used to think that sto- 
 ries of a funny kind, in order to be good, should 
 be new, but in this I was mistaken. In Pough- 
 keepsie, N. Y., I listened to a lecture before a bus- 
 iness college on the philosophy of fun for over 
 an hour. I heard stories told and laughed at 
 that were old, many of them, when the lecturer 
 was born. Two-thirds of the audience had never 
 heard them before and the shower of chestnuts 
 fell upon a pleased assembly. Here in Ireland 
 many new jokes are heard I mean they are
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 243 
 
 new to me. At the Giant's Causeway an old 
 woman told this story to an English tourist: 
 "When Fin McCool, the giant who made and 
 owned this place with all around here, sea and 
 land, was alive, a giant from the Scotch High- 
 lands came here to fight him. Now, Fin McCool 
 was forty feet tall, sir, and when the giant from 
 Scotland saw him stretched out fast asleep on 
 the rocks, he said to Mrs. McCool, 'Where is 
 your husband?' She answered, 'Out with our 
 grown boys at work, your honor.' 'And who 
 is that sleeping?' said he. 'It is our baby,' 
 replied Mrs. McCool; 'don't wake him up, please.' 
 The Scotch giant thought if that forty-five foot 
 chap was McCool's baby, he would not wait to 
 fight the father." The tourist gravely answered, 
 "I do not believe the story is true. No man 
 ever lived forty-five feet tall." This reply was 
 not expected by the old woman, and in evident 
 disgust she turned to him and said, "Oh, you 
 may believe it or not, as you like, for all I care, 
 and you can go jist to the devil and tell the ould 
 boy I have sent him a hog." 
 
 Much depends on the matter of a story and 
 more on the manner of telling it. And then 
 much depends on whether we like the person
 
 244 COL - SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 who relates the anecdote or not; for I believe 
 it to be true, that man or woman never yet 
 laughed heartily at an anecdote, no matter how 
 much fun was in it, when related by a person 
 who was not liked or was not agreeable. Many 
 old anecdotes will live, and ought to. They 
 have made mirth and sunshine for thousands, 
 and will continue to do so, although old, for mil- 
 lions in the future, and to them they will be new. 
 Then let these stones journey on the merry 
 round. 
 
 More than thirty years ago I heard the story 
 of a boy, at the table, urging his sister's best 
 young man to take a second chunk of pie, then 
 passing his own plate toward his mother, saying, 
 "Now, ma, give me another piece. You know 
 you said before dinner if that old fool hogged 
 down two pieces I should have two." I thought 
 it was funny then, and when less than two months 
 ago I heard a man tell the same yarn as having 
 occurred in his presence but a few weeks before, 
 I laughed at the story and tried to forget that 
 the gentleman was telling an untruth. Who 
 does not laugh at the story of the boy who had 
 used bad language, fleeing under the house to 
 escape the whip in his mother's hand. The
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 245 
 
 good woman saw the father approaching- and 
 said to him, "Joseph has been swearing. I went 
 to whip him and he has crawled under the house. 
 You go under and bring him out." The boy saw 
 his parent bending low, and approaching him on 
 hands and knees. Said he, "Father, you have 
 been swearing, have you? and ma is after you, 
 too? Come close to me and I won't let her 
 thrash you." 
 
 A clergyman sat down to be shaved. The 
 barber was drunk and held on to the gentleman's 
 nose too tight for comfort. "You hold my nose 
 too tight," said he. "How could I stand up if I 
 did not hang on your nose!" was the rejoinder. 
 A slight cut was made on the clergyman's face. 
 Noticing it, he said to the barber, "There, you 
 see the effect of whisky." "Yes," said the art- 
 ist, "it does make the skin very tender." 
 
 A college lad had been off on a fearful spree, 
 and returning home was observed by one of the 
 professors traveling in the same car. The 
 teacher seeing the condition of the young man, 
 said to him in tones of deep rebuke, "Drunk 
 again?" "So am I," replied the youth; "don't 
 let us tell on each other." 
 
 Thus it will ever be. Sunshine will chase
 
 246 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 shadow away. Sorrow will be driven before 
 the onset of mirth. Men and women will ever 
 laugh without knowing or caring why. Life is 
 too short to be all mirth, and too long to be 
 without it. A nature full of sunshine, a kind as 
 well as a brave heart, a desire to make the world 
 better and happier, combined with brains enough 
 to map out the chart of life's pathway with all 
 this we shall be merry and help add to the mer- 
 riment and joy of those around us. 
 
 Oh, why should we hate 
 
 As if cruel fate 
 
 Had not enough of sorrow 
 
 For to-day and to-morrow, 
 
 Without grasping the chalice 
 
 Of envy and malice, 
 
 Which fills the poor heart with care and with sorrow, 
 
 Bringing clouds for to-day and no joy for to-morrow.
 
 LETTER XV. 
 IRELAND 4. 
 
 DONEGAL, Ireland, August 8, 1887. 
 
 N traveling through Great Britain a person 
 cannot help noticing the difference between 
 the Scotchman and Englishman, while the Irish- 
 man differs from both of them. It is particularly 
 so in the manner of answering questions. You 
 ask either of the first two, no matter how simple 
 a question, and he first replies, "I beg your par- 
 don, sir." This means "Ask again." When you 
 propound your question a second time an an- 
 swer is returned promptly, but never to the ques- 
 tion asked. 
 
 At the Waverly Hotel, in Edinburg, I said to 
 the waiter, "Miss, can you tell me where the gen- 
 eral postoffice is?" "Oh, sir, you don't need to 
 go there to post a letter, sir," was the answer. 
 "Where is the Caledonia railway station?" I 
 asked of a hotel clerk. "Oh, sir, there is no
 
 248 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 train leaving now," was the reply. "Can you 
 direct me to the Bank of Scotland ?" was the 
 question I asked my landlady. "Oh, sir, the 
 bank is not open now," said she each one be- 
 ginning the answer given with the inevitable 
 "Oh, sir." In fact it just rained "Oh, sirs" when 
 I was around. 
 
 In London I heard an American lady ask a 
 waiter, "How can I go to the Royal Gallery of 
 Art?" "Oh, mum, the hart gallery doesn't be 
 hopened at night." Another lady from the land 
 of corn and big lakes and prairies said to a hotel 
 officer, "Does the Queen live in Buckingham 
 Palace in the winter?" "Oh, mum, you can't see 
 Her Majesty without a special horder, you know." 
 Then and there that American woman proceeded 
 to give the man of superabundant h's a piece of 
 her mind in a rapid as well as a forcible manner. 
 Said she, "You big blockhead, why don't you 
 use your h's where they belong? Answer the 
 question I asked you, and it only." 
 
 In England and Scotland I was often reminded 
 of the young clerk in a country store down 
 in central New York. An elderly woman ap- 
 proached the counter and requested him to show 
 her some blue calico fast colors warranted not
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 249 
 
 to fade in washing-. The future merchant looked 
 about for a moment and at length answered, 
 "We have no blue calico, but if you want some 
 No. i dried apples I have some that will make 
 your heart glad." Perhaps that young man is 
 now a retired merchant. 
 
 An Irishman is quick to understand and to 
 answer a question. He seems anxious to please 
 and appears hurt if he fails to do so. An old 
 story is told (and old stories, like old music, will 
 bear repeating, if good) of a passing funeral pro- 
 cession. A gentleman watching it turned to an 
 Irishman and asked him who was dead. "I 
 think it is the person who is in the coffin, sir," 
 was the quick reply. At a fair in the county 
 of Antrim I addressed this question to an old 
 farmer, "Which do you prefer to use on a farm, 
 horses or oxen?" His reply was, "It all depends 
 on what you wishes to use thim for, sur. If it is 
 for milk, sure a small cow is betther than afrher 
 one of thim, sur." 
 
 While buying oranges of an old woman near 
 Dundalk, the other day, I thought to have a little 
 fun at her expense, and thus addressed the an- 
 cient dame, "You are Irish, mam?" "Faith I 
 am, sur." "I am not Irish," said I. "Indade I
 
 250 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 
 
 did not think you were, sur." "If I was an 
 Irishman I would hang myself," continued I. 
 "And if I thought you were Irish I would hang 
 myself to the nearest tree," was her quick and 
 ready answer. So you see how I had lots of 
 fun at the poor old woman's expense. 
 
 A Scotchman is proud of his country. To 
 him even the mountains, clad with heather only, 
 is an object of beauty. He finds the name of 
 Scotland to him sweeter than music, no matter 
 whether heard on the sterile plains of Africa, 
 amid the forests of India, or by the great lakes 
 of North America. He is proud of his country 
 and proud of himself. The Englishman, in love 
 of country and pride of nationality, is like the 
 Scotchman; and like him also, he is proud of his 
 kindred and of himself. The Irishman is not 
 at all wanting in love of self, but it is in love of 
 country that his nature finds most enthusiastic 
 scope. The green fields and rugged heights, 
 the lakes of crystal clearness that nestle beneath 
 the mountain shadow, the pastures where the 
 daisy and the shamrock grow, the groves where 
 the birds are singing, the village in the valley 
 and the cities by the lea, the abbey gray with 
 time's touch, the cross, centuries old when civili-
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 25! 
 
 zation was unknown in America, the memories 
 and legends which blend with the early dawn of 
 Ireland's- history all this seems to make Ireland 
 to an Irishman, the dearest and the fairest spot 
 upon which the sun shines or through which the 
 rivers flow. On land or on sea, in prison or on a 
 lone island coast, his heart ever thrills to the 
 touch of Erin's songs, and his thoughts carry him 
 back to the banks of the Liffey and the Shannon. 
 For the past few days I have been traveling 
 through the county of Donegal. This is in the 
 extreme northern part of Ireland. For some 
 reason this section of country has not been made 
 at all prominent in the letters of tourists, most 
 Americans preferring to pass by and seek locali- 
 ties further on. Often in passing through south- 
 ern Ireland I have heard of the wild scenery, 
 lofty mountains, shady glens and grand views to 
 be had here, but until now I was a stranger to 
 this most interesting and charming section. Past 
 experience has taught me to be a little slow in 
 accepting as truth all that is told me. Many years 
 ago a lady in northern Iowa taught me how to 
 preserve and keep tomatoes fresh and good all 
 winter. Said she, it is the simplest thing in the 
 world. Just one teaspoonful of salt to a gallon
 
 252 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 
 
 of water. In full confidence, believing her, I 
 imparted the receipt to a friend in another part 
 of the State. In a few weeks my friend wrote, 
 saying, "You infamous scoundrel, come down 
 and help us move the house, or throw those jars 
 of tomatoes out into the river." My preserving 
 receipt, when tested, had not been found good. 
 When a few months later I mentioned the result 
 to the one who taught me how to preserve toma- 
 toes in the manner stated, she said it was either 
 a pint of salt or a teaspoonful to be used with 
 each gallon of water, she had forgotten which, 
 but remarked in the same connection that any 
 one ought to have sense enough to know it could 
 not be the latter. Since then I am somewhat 
 cautious in accepting the stories of others, hav- 
 ing once been the victim of over-confidence. I 
 find that what I have heard of the wonderful 
 scenery here has not been at all overdrawn. The 
 green of the meadow and the yellow of the 
 ripening harvest form a strange contrast to the 
 gray, rugged rocks and dark deep forests which 
 form a prominent feature in every landscape. 
 The roads, although often very hilly, are made 
 perfect. They are made of broken stone, laid 
 in cement and made smooth by an immense iron
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 253 
 
 roller which is frequently passed over them. It 
 is, indeed, a pleasure to ride in a jaunting-car 
 over the magnificent roads of Donegal. 
 
 <_> t_> 
 
 The houses of the middle class and also of the 
 poor here are long, low, with straw-thatched 
 roofs, sometimes built of stone, often of clay, 
 the color always grey; no floor in them but the 
 dirt, made hard by constant use. Once in a 
 while a stone floor is found. Frequently four or 
 five beds are occupied in a single room. An air 
 of cleanliness is noticed in the humblest of these 
 homes, which is gratifying to the stranger who, 
 for a time, sojourns in the little cottage. A turf 
 fire burns on the rude hearth over which the 
 cooking is done. Geese, ducks, chickens, cows, 
 pigs, all dwell under the same roof, but in differ- 
 ent rooms, apart from the family. Still one does 
 not observe any aristocratic airs about the ani- 
 mals or fowls, all seeming to feel near to their 
 owners and willing to call upon them and main- 
 tain terms of intimacy. The pig, in particular, is 
 not one bit stuck-up in his notions, but seems 
 delighted to visit the family, walk under the 
 table, or crawl beneath the bed, without the 
 formality of an invitation. What is said of the 
 poor in Donegal, may truly be remarked of most
 
 254 COL- SANFORDS LETTERS. 
 
 poor people in Ireland. The traveler may find 
 them ragged, barefooted, hard-pressed by want, 
 often without a pound of flour or bit of meat in 
 the little cabin. In many instances tea, sugar 
 and coffee are luxuries unknown. Yet, with all 
 this poverty, one thing you are always sure to 
 find in the humblest hut of the poorest peasant, 
 and that is hospitality. Food may be scarce in 
 that little abode, and children hungry, but while 
 a few potatoes are simmering over the turf fire 
 in an iron pot, the weary worn traveler is wel- 
 come 'to a share of them as he joins the family 
 group around the little oaken table, and when 
 departing he will hear a hearty "God bless and 
 saints protect you" from the lips of him who is 
 the family head. 
 
 Along the north coast of Ireland, castles were 
 placed in early times, the ruins of which still 
 astonish the traveler by their wonderful extent 
 and perfection in both workmanship and finish. 
 One of these, named Dunluse, stands upon an 
 immense storm-beaten rock on the ocean's shore, 
 between Port Rush and the Giant's Causeway. 
 Greencastle, near Moville, is another. It is of 
 great antiquity and, like its neighbor Dunluse, 
 capable in its day of affording shelter as well as
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 255 
 
 protection for hundreds of people and as many 
 horses. Grunan Castle, on a hill overlooking 
 three counties, is an old, massive, round castle 
 in which Irish kings were at one time crowned. 
 The town of Donegal has one of the oldest and 
 most famous ones in all Ireland. These castles, 
 with many others, were at one time the strong- 
 holds of the O'Donnels, O'Neils, McQuinlans, and 
 other famous families well known in Irish 
 history. 
 
 OfO'Neil the following story is told: With 
 others in a boat he was about to land in Ireland. 
 It had been decided that the first one touching 
 the ground should be king of Ulster. Just as 
 the boat was about to reach the shore, O'Neil 
 cut his hand off and threw it on the land. This 
 gave him the right to wear Ulster's crown. We 
 often, in Irish history, meet with the story of 
 "The Red Handed O'Neil." In a cemetery near 
 Cookstown, county Tyrone, I saw two tomb- 
 stones upon which the red hands were carved. 
 These marked the graves of two O'Neils. 
 
 Letterkenny is the county seat of Donegal. A 
 most pleasant little hotel is kept here by Miss 
 Hagerty. This and Mrs. Roddy's hotel in Lon- 
 donderry, I found to be among the very best
 
 256 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 and most comfortable of any since leaving 
 America. 
 
 'From this quaint old town I rode in a jaunt- 
 ing-car to Garton, the birthplace of St. Columb- 
 kill. He was the founder of the celebrated 
 school of Ionia. The influence of this famous 
 priest has extended over a period of more than 
 twelve hundred years, and his name in Irish 
 ecclesiastical history goes hand in hand with 
 that of St. Patrick. In an old church at Down- 
 patrick, county of Down, inscribed on a tomb, is 
 the following: 
 
 "In this grave three saints do dwell, 
 St. Patrick, St. Bridget and Columbkill." 
 
 After Columbkilf became famous an abbey was 
 built on the spot where he was born. This little 
 roofless building of stone is standing to-day, 
 although more than one thousand years have 
 swept past since it was erected. Devout Cath- 
 olics from Ireland and many other lands come 
 here to pray at the foot of the old cross, also in 
 the little abbey and at the well, near by. This 
 is done as a mark of respect to one of Erin's 
 noted sons, and also as an act of Christian devo- 
 tion. From Garton we drove about eight miles 
 to the rock and well of Douen. On top of
 
 COL. SANFORD S LETTERS. 257 
 
 that ragged peak the Irish kings were crowned, 
 ages before the time of Columbus, perhaps even 
 before the days of Charlemange or Pepin. The 
 well or spring is near the foot of the rock. To 
 this well the lame, sick and halt came to be 
 healed. Hundreds of crutches strew the ground 
 about it. A few prayers are said, then a middle- 
 aged woman, who lives on the ground close to 
 the spot, kneels, makes the sign of the cross, 
 reverentially dipping up a cupfull of the clear, 
 pure water and giving it to the sick ones who 
 throng around her. It is a strange sight, and 
 more strange to see (as I have seen) men, 
 women and children go away shouting, rejoicing 
 and claiming to be cured of the various ills for 
 which relief had been sought. Many do this, 
 but not all. 
 
 The women and children of Donegal manu- 
 facture lace, and do a great variety of knitting, 
 producing specimens of rare beauty. This in- 
 dustry of the country has attracted attention 
 from people in London and other big cities, and 
 I think it will soon figure in commerce. 
 
 Strange expressions meet the ear in this local- 
 ity. Said a woman to me, "My daughter is in 
 America. She has been there three months
 
 258 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 only. ' She thinks long, poor girl.' ' This 
 expression means, my daughter is homesick. 
 
 Good men and women of different shades of 
 religious opinion are turning their attention 
 toward the improvement of these people of the 
 north, and why should not great good grow out 
 of this work? The glorious light of truth had lit 
 up the hills and made bright the valleys of Done- 
 gal ages before the power of Christ had been 
 acknowledged in England, or the cross set up 
 amid the hills of Scotland. The name of Jesus 
 had been proclaimed and churches dedicated to 
 him in this country long before the banner of 
 civilization waved in the breezes of the western 
 continent. Now it seems just and right that 
 these poor, long down-trodden people should 
 again be lifted up and made to rejoice with the 
 bright rays of a new and a better civilization. 
 Improve the condition of the poor in Ireland; 
 make more cheerful the homes of all; give men 
 that liberty which makes a man feel that he is a 
 man; roll back the clouds which have so long 
 hung like a pall of gloom over this fair land; 
 encourage with words of hope; stretch out a 
 brother's hand to relieve a brother's misfortunes. 
 Ye who govern say to the governed: "We will
 
 COL. SANFORDS LETTERS. 259 
 
 help and not crush you. We will gaurantee to 
 you the rights of manhood, which should be the 
 free gift of all." In short, let the people of 
 Ireland know that kindness, not hatred, is to be 
 the watchword in the near future and a shout of 
 rejoicing will sweep over this country to make 
 glad the hearts of Ireland's children, as the music 
 of Tara's harp made glad the old lathers and 
 mothers when the name of Ireland was synoni- 
 mous with liberty and human brotherhood.
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 ATLANTIC OCEAN. 
 
 ATLANTIC OCEAN, 500 Miles 
 East of New York, August 15, 1887. 
 
 HAVE often been requested to write a little 
 about myself and give only some of my own 
 experiences. For many reasons I shrink from 
 doing anything of this kind. 
 
 An Iowa editor once wrote an article on swine. 
 Another rival editor reproved him for doing so, 
 saying he did not like to see a newspaper man 
 make public his family affairs. 
 
 The eternal "I" of many writers is to me more 
 than half disgusting. A very distinguished cler- 
 gyman in America was, when young, very poor, 
 and learned the trade of blacksmith, working at 
 it for a long time and I doubt not doing good 
 work. But who does not tire of his so often 
 repeating in public the story of his old days at 
 the anvil?
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 261 
 
 An old adage says self-made men usually wor- 
 ship their maker. So often we find this to be 
 true. It is glorious to struggle against fortune's 
 adverse tide, to conquer and at last gain the 
 harbor of success to bask in the sunshine of 
 prosperity. But it does seem egotistic to be 
 always repeating the story of your own achieve- 
 ments. 
 
 Feeling thus, I avoid, so far as possible, writ- 
 ing or talking solely of self. I know I was 
 born in great poverty. The log cabin in 
 which I first saw light has long since been 
 destroyed. With five others I gazed upon the 
 wagon which carried the coffin of our mother to 
 the graveyard in a village near by. A few days 
 after that humble funeral scene, we six young 
 children were bound out separated, never on 
 earth to meet again, our only crime being that 
 we were very young and terribly poor. The 
 exact date of my birth I do not know. It was 
 not earlier than November 11, 1832, or later 
 than November 1 1, 1837. I think it was the last 
 named period. 
 
 1 felt that I was unkindly treated by my mas- 
 ter and his entire family, but as they are all dead 
 I will not dilate on this subject. Before the age
 
 262 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 of nine I had run away frequently and been 
 thrashed for it often. My father reorganized his 
 family by marrying again when I was ten years 
 old. I then went to live with him. My new 
 mother and I had widely different opinions as 
 to family management, and when I was eleven 
 years old, as she did not see fit to run away, I 
 proceeded to do so, and did not meet for twenty 
 years one person in whose veins a drop of my 
 blood ran. This is all of my personal history 
 that I care to give. 
 
 I have been a traveler in all lands, have made 
 many errors in life, and for the same have often 
 repented in deep humiliation and keen anguish. 
 Still I have yet to learn that when one makes a 
 big mistake, it is best to go around with head 
 bowed down and tell the great world all the 
 particulars and just how badly you feel about it. 
 In my opinion, 'tis far better to keep the story 
 to yourself, strive to do better in the future and 
 make life's later page show a cleaner history, 
 and have its record a better one. 
 
 We are now nearing the shores of America, 
 and memory is busy with thoughts of other 
 journeys in the past. 
 
 I have crossed the Atlantic many times.
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 263 
 
 Once on a sailing ship, the "Neptune," in 
 thirteen days from light to light. (This vessel 
 has since been run clown by a steamer and de- 
 stroyed.) Then, "The City of Boston" brought 
 me to New York in ten days from Liverpool. 
 She afterwards sailed from New York with many 
 passengers and was never heard of again. The 
 "Hibernia" carried me safely across in mid-winter, 
 making one of the most stormy passages I ever 
 had. She was afterwards lost also, and but a 
 few saved of all her crew and passengers. Next 
 I sailed from Brest in France to New York, on 
 the French steamer "Perirre." On that voyage, a 
 great wave broke in the second cabin and killed 
 seven persons. This was indeed a fearful trip. 
 
 The "Minnesota," of the Guion Line, next 
 carried me across, and the "Nevada" brought 
 me back. In the latter we encountered the 
 greatest storm I ever witnessed. The "Scotia" 
 and "Russia" of the Cunard Line conveyed me 
 across the Atlantic. On the latter I had for a 
 fellow passenger Jefferson Davis, the famous 
 Ex-President of the defunct Southern Confeder- 
 acy. Mr. Davis was a silent man, seldom laugh- 
 ing or talking. When he did talk it was always 
 because he had something to say.
 
 264 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 The wife of Horace Greeley was a passenger 
 on the "Scotia" when I was. Poor woman! 
 She had a hard time of it. Her fears of ship- 
 wreck were active, and she was not only miser- 
 able herself, but had a faculty of making others 
 unhappy by her useless but oft expressed fears 
 of disaster and ruin. 
 
 On the Guion Line I have crossed the ocean 
 seven times. On the "Sarmation," of the Allen 
 Line, once. This is my third time on one of 
 the Anchor Line steamers. On the Pacific 
 ocean I have been best pleased with the 
 steamer "Japan," since burned on the coast of 
 China. 
 
 Many thousands of miles I have traveled on 
 the Indian ocean, also on the Red and Mediter- 
 ranean seas and Chinese ocean. Have patron- 
 ized the North German Lloyds, Peninsular and 
 Oriental, also the great French line known as 
 the "Mesagerie Maritime." I like all of the 
 Oriental lines well. On the Atlantic, for cheap 
 and comfortable ships a little slow, but very safe 
 I can recommend the Anchor Line. For both 
 speed and comfort, as well as luxury, the North 
 German Lloyd and the French Trans-Atlantique 
 are in my opinion unrivalled. The Cunarcl is
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 265 
 
 safe, high priced and very swift. Many regard 
 this line as the best of all, but I do not. 
 
 When it comes to railway traveling, I still 
 think the United States beats the world. The 
 great Pennsylvania Railway system, extending 
 from New York to Chicago, is, in comfort, speed 
 and safety, peerless. The same can very truly 
 be said of the New York Central, Lake Shore & 
 Michigan Southern; while in the West, the Chi- 
 cago & Northwestern Railway, with its six thou- 
 sand miles of splendid track, extending through 
 Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin, Minnesota and Da- 
 kota, the whole forming a grand system of 
 international highway, is without a superior in 
 Europe or in the world. 
 
 The traveler is wonder struck, who, for the 
 first time crosses the ocean, at the exactness 
 with which the position of the ship is daily calcu- 
 lated. But all accuracy depends on the sun. 
 If clouds obscure its face, accurate calculations 
 cannot be made; but when the sky is not over- 
 cast, this witness from ninety odd millions of 
 miles away, is summoned each day to tell the 
 story of where we are. By the use of the quad- 
 rant, the chronometer, and a little arithmetic, our 
 position is defined to the distance of a quarter
 
 266 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 of a mile, or even less, on the bosom of the 
 mighty deep. 
 
 The Atlantic cable runs under the ocean from 
 shore to shore, and is nearly three thousand 
 miles in length. When the cable breaks, which 
 occurs quite often, the location of the break can be 
 determined exactly, by a marvelous instrument of 
 wonderful delicacy and recent discovery. Then 
 by the aid of navigators' instruments, ships are 
 guided to the exact spot, the broken pieces picked 
 up, spliced, and the work of flashing thought from 
 continent to continent again goes on. 
 
 To-day, Captain Wilson gave me a small 
 stone brought up from the bottom of the ocean 
 in the tallow contained in the sounding lead. 
 The water was over one thousand feet in depth, 
 and the sounding was made while the ship was 
 going at the rate of fully .eleven knots an hour. 
 This instrument and the one for ascertaining the 
 exact spot of the cable's breaking, was the inven- 
 tion of Sir William Hamilton, the electrician, 
 who superintended the laying of the Atlantic 
 cable, for which he received the honor of knight- 
 hood. Surely, he is a man of wonderful ability, 
 God having first conferred upon him the knight- 
 hood which brains alone can give.
 
 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 267 
 
 Landsmen are often puzzled to know the 
 meaning of sailing phrazes. I will explain a few 
 of them. The word "knot," used in the following 
 connection, "She is going - - knots an hour," is 
 thus explained: A knot is 6,080 feet; a mile, 
 5,280 ft; so when it is said the ship goes at the 
 rate of 13 knots an hour, it means something 
 over 14 miles. Starboard, means to the right; 
 larboard or port, to the left. 
 
 Yesterday I saw two big whales swimming 
 and spouting in the water. These were the 
 second ones I ever saw, the first being off the 
 coast of Japan. 
 
 On board the "Ethiopia" we have first-class 
 officers and a picked crew. The table is well 
 supplied and the passengers are well satisfied, 
 feeling safe and happy. This is the second time 
 I have crossed on the "Ethiopia," and I cannot 
 recommend her too highly. Among the pas- 
 sengers are the following: The two McSmith's 
 with their wives and children are on board, 
 bound for home in Providence, Rhode Island. 
 The Rev. Robt. Barr, of Ulster county, New 
 York, has given us two splendid sermons. Geo. 
 Home and wife, of St. Kitts, W. I., are with us. 
 Mr. H. is so good and kind to his wife and chil-
 
 268 COL. SANFORD'S LETTERS. 
 
 dren. This party came over with rne. The 
 children were left in Edinburg to be educated. 
 The good mother's eyes fill with tears when the 
 absent ones are referred to. God bless them. 
 Mr. W. S. Bryan, of St. Louis, and family wife 
 and two children are on board. All of them 
 have suffered terribly with sea-sickness. Mr. W. 
 H. Millard, Delhi, N. Y.; my room-mate, Mr. R. 
 F. Jopling-, Cleveland, Ohio; Mr. Oswald, Ken- 
 tucky; Mrs. Maybiery, of Troy, N. Y. all these, 
 and others whose names I do not know, formed 
 a pleasant party, seeking the happiness of all. 
 
 Soon we separate to meet on earth no more, 
 and this long, rapid, hard-working journey 
 of mine will be ended. Good bye! "Ethiopia," 
 noble ship! You have carried me safely more 
 than six thousand miles. Good bye! officers and 
 crew, pleasant, kind-hearted captain, passengers 
 -all! 
 
 And now for the West for Iowa home! and 
 for the companionship of friends and loved ones. 
 Good bye! all, and may your lives glide along 
 happily, unclouded by shadow and unswept by 
 storm.
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Santa Barbara 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW. 
 
 Series 9482
 
 <HSB 
 
 A 001 001 958 6 
 
 
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