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 RARE WESTERN BOOKS 
 
 4227 S. E. Stark St. 
 PORTLAND. ORE. 
 
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LETTERS OF TRAVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 LATE BISHOP OF MASSACHUSETTS 
 
 {.EDITED BY M. F. B.) 
 
 <■> % ~t ■> a o 
 
 NEW YORK 
 E. P. BUTTON AND COMPANY 
 31 West Twenty-third Street 
 1902 , , 
 

 Copyright, 1893, 
 By E. p. DUTTON & CO. 
 
 All riyhts reserved. 
 
 XCbe f(niclterbocfter press, "ilew t?orft 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 These letters of travel of the late Bishop Brooks 
 have been selected from his correspondence with mem- 
 bers of his family. They relate to two journeys, of 
 more than a year in duration, taken in 1865-66 and in 
 1882-83 respectively, — the former when he was Rec- 
 tor of the Church of the Holy Trinity, Philadelphia, 
 the latter when he was Rector of Trinity Church, 
 Boston, — and to shorter summer trips, generally of 
 about three months in duration. The circumstances 
 under which they were written are sufficiently evident 
 from the letters, and call for little conunent. 
 
 Several of these series of letters Bishop Brooks 
 regarded in the light of a record of his travels and 
 experiences, and after his return reclaimed them, and 
 found frequent enjoyment in the reminiscences of his 
 journeys which they awakened. 
 
 Further details of these same journeys and other 
 letters relating to them will appear in the forthcoming 
 Life of Bishop Brooks. But before that is given to 
 the public, it seemed possible and desirable to put in 
 shape these letters of travel, which give an important 
 chapter of his life that was always of the greatest 
 
 948184 
 
IV • PREFACE. 
 
 delight to him, and in which are represented many of 
 his most striking personal characteristics. 
 
 An interesting journey taken in 1887, which in- 
 cluded his attendance at the Queen's Jubilee Service 
 and his last meeting with Robert Browning and Mat- 
 thew Arnold, as well as his second visit to Tenny- 
 son, is unmentioned, for the reason that he was accom- 
 panied on that journey by members of his family to 
 whom the writing of those letters which should con- 
 tain the continuous record of the summer was commit- 
 ted. For the same reason, one letter alone appears 
 in this collection to represent a journey made in 1890, 
 when, in addition to a trip to Switzerland, he visited 
 parts of England including Cornwall and Devonshire, 
 which are associated with Kingsley's Westward Ho ! 
 and also Andover, the name of which is so closely con- 
 nected with the life of the Phillips family in America. 
 
 The letters retain the familiar character which be- 
 longed to them as being intended for the members of 
 his own family. It will be seen that in no other form 
 could they have been given to the public, and they are 
 thus enabled to convey not only an interesting story of 
 travel, but also something of that personal charm and 
 ready wit and genial appreciation which those who 
 were nearest to him loved so well. His warm remem- 
 brance of friends from whom he was absent will be 
 evident in all these letters, and his nature will be seen 
 in its sunniest and most playful mood. 
 
 Octobery 1893. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 First Journey Abroad, 1865-1866 1 
 
 In the Tyrol and Switzerland, 1870 139 
 
 Summer in Northern Europe, 1872 154 
 
 From London to Venice, 1874 172 
 
 England and the Continent, 1877 181 
 
 In Paris, England, Scotland, and Ireland, 1880 . . 187 
 A Year in Europe and India, 1882-1883 .... 191 
 
 England and Europe, 1885 325 
 
 Across the Continent to San Francisco, 1886 . . 343 
 
 A Summer in Japan, 1889 355 
 
 Summer of 1890 374 
 
 Last Journey Abroad 376 
 
LETTERS OF TRAYEL. 
 
 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 1865-1866. 
 
 Steamer Scotia, 
 Monday p. m., August 14, 1865. 
 
 Dear Mother, — My first letter from abroad 
 shall be to you. It will not be much of a letter, for 
 nobody feels like doing anything on shipboard, and 
 especially this afternoon, when the ship is rolling 
 worse than it has yet. We have had a splendid 
 passage so far ; I have not been seasick for a moment 
 since I came on board, and we are now more than half- 
 way across. Father and WiUiam gave you my biogra- 
 phy up to the moment of sailing. They came pretty 
 near having to go to Europe themselves. The first 
 days out were very smooth, and we were well used to 
 the motion of the vessel before the rough sea began. 
 There has been considerable seasickness aboard. 
 
 We spend almost all the time on deck. I have 
 scarcely been below except for meals and sleep. It is 
 the nicest, laziest, and pleasantest life in the world. 
 We breakfast at 8.30, lunch at 12, dine at 6, and 
 sup at 7.30. There is the funniest collection of 
 people here : English, French, Germans, Portuguese, 
 Jews, and Secessionists ; lots of Southern people going 
 
2; W^J^I': JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 tx) f orejgR parts tp liide their shame. I have made 
 sbme Vei'y pleasant friends, especially a nice English 
 family, whose son has been in our army. They live 
 in Cheltenham, England, and have invited me to 
 visit them. 
 
 We had service yesterday ; the Captain (Judkins) 
 read service and a sermon. It was quite interesting. 
 I thought of you all at home, and felt that you were 
 praying for us. It is hard to count these things, 
 though, for we have gained already two hours on you, 
 and are getting farther and farther to the eastward 
 all the time. We have not had the sensation of dan- 
 ger yet, except the last two nights, when it has been 
 very foggy, and we have run along blowing our 
 whistle almost all the time, not knowing what ship or 
 iceberg we might run into any minute. As yet all 
 is safe. 
 
 It is wonderful how fast the time goes here. The 
 days have not dragged at all, though there is next to 
 nothing to do. We read a little, and walk the decks, 
 and look for ships, and the hours slip by delightfully. 
 Father told you, I suppose, that the Langs were on 
 board. I am burnt up as brown as a berry, and 
 never was so well in my life. It is a splendid begin- 
 ning of my tour. 
 
 How I would like to look in on you at home, or 
 rather how I would like to have you all here ! You 
 would enjoy it intensely. It would not be so agree- 
 able if one were sick, but everybody says the voyage 
 has been most remarkable. 
 
 I leave the next page to be fiUed up between here 
 and Queenstown. 
 
DUBLIN. 3 
 
 Wednesday Morning, Aug^t 16. 
 
 It is still beautiful and delightful. Just a week 
 since we sailed, and the most splendid week I ever 
 passed. Last night on deck, with a high wind, clear 
 starlight overhead, and the phosphorescent water 
 below, was glorious ! I shall be almost sorry to land, 
 except for the nights, which are very disagreeable in 
 these miserable little berths. My room-mate is an 
 Englishman, just returning from a tour around the 
 world. He is intelligent and civil, but I see very 
 little of him. They say we shall be in at Queens- 
 town on Thursday night. I will mail this on board 
 to-morrow, and then write again to you from Dublin. 
 
 Thursday Morning, August 17. 
 
 All has gone well, and we shall come upon the 
 coast of Ireland to-night. To-morrow morning I go 
 from Cork to Dublin, where I shall stay till over 
 Sunday. Perhaps this letter will reach you a little 
 earlier by being mailed on board, so I will close it here. 
 You may consider our voyage as prosperously over, 
 and me as safely into the Old World. No stranger 
 ever got into it easier. When I write again, there 
 will be more incidents to record. Now I only ask 
 you to thank God with me for my safe voyage. Give 
 lots of love to all the household, beginning with father 
 and going down to Trip. How I shall depend upon 
 your letters at London. 
 
 Your loving son, Phillips. 
 
 Gbesham Hotel, Sackvllle Stbbbt, Dublin, 
 Friday Evening, August 18, 1865- 
 
 Dear William,^ — Safe in Dublin. Is n't it funny? 
 The Scotia arrived at Queenstown at four this morn- 
 
 1 His brother, William G. Brooks. 
 
4 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD, 
 
 ing, and we at once went ashore. I breakfasted at 
 Queenstown, and then took the train for Cork, where 
 I spent three hours wandering up and down the queer- 
 est city that was ever made. It is one universal Sea 
 Street and Fort Hill. The source whence all the Bid- 
 dies and Patsies have flowed over the Atlantic was 
 evident at once, and there are plenty more of the 
 same sort to come. 
 
 At twelve o'clock we took the train for Dublin, and 
 rode all the afternoon through the loveliest country 
 that ever was seen, — endless fields with their green 
 hedges and rich crops, and men and women together 
 harvesting them. I reached here at six o'clock, and 
 got a room in Gresham's Hotel, a good house which 
 you will see marked upon the picture. It has been a 
 perfect day, especially after the long confinement of 
 the voyage. 
 
 How strange it seems to be here ! The old town, so 
 far as I have seen it to-night, looks like Boston. To- 
 morrow I shall see the great Exhibition and all the 
 lions, and call on one or two people to whom I have 
 introductions. The Archbishop (Trench), I am 
 sorry to hear, is out of town. I shall stay here tiU 
 over Sunday, and leave on Monday for Belfast and 
 the Giant's Causeway ; but I only meant to say I am 
 here safe. God bless you aU ! 
 
 Affectionately, Phillips. 
 
 Jedburgh, Scotland, 
 Wednesday p. m., Augiist 30, 1865. 
 
 Dear Father, — See if you can find this little 
 pl£U3e upon the map, and then picture one of the 
 Brooks boys set down at the Spread Eagle Inn (the 
 picture of a little English or Scotch inn), after an 
 
SCOTLAND. 5 
 
 English dinner, to tell his adventures to the family in 
 the back parlor of 41 Chauncy Street, Boston. Let 
 me show you how I got here. Get the big Atlas 
 which we had out on the Sunday night before I left, 
 and trace me on from point to point. 
 
 The last time I wrote I was in Dublin. I spent 
 two days there ; saw the great Exhibition (whose 
 only veiy striking point is the collection of pictures), 
 the college, and the other sights of the dingy old 
 town. I spent Sunday there, and went to service at 
 St. Patrick's Cathedral, where we had the whole 
 cathedral service in its most splendid style. Sunday 
 afternoon, having failed in town to see Archbishop 
 Trench, whom I was most anxious to see of any man 
 in Ireland, I went down to Bray, a watering place near 
 Dublin, where I heard he was to officiate. I did not 
 find him there, and so came back to Dublin ; whence 
 I started the next morning and went by the way of 
 Belfast up to Port Rush on the northern coast, where 
 I spent Monday night. Tuesday, I drove over to the 
 Giant's Causeway and inspected it thorouglily. It 
 was most interesting, — more wonderful in its forma- 
 tion than I had imagined. Then back to BeKast, and 
 on Tuesday night took a crazy little steamer, called 
 the Lynx (about as big as the Nelly Baker, — not 
 quite), for Glasgow, where contrary to aU reasonable 
 probabilities and amid aU sorts of discomforts we 
 were landed for breakfast on Wednesday morning. 
 Spent the day there. It is a fine city, and puts one 
 right into the midst of " Kob Koy." Nichol Jarvie lived 
 close by the hotel, and I was inclined to run over and 
 congratulate the good bailie on his safe return from 
 the Highlands. There is a fine old cathedral there, 
 in whose crypt, you may remember, one of the finest 
 
6 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 scenes in " Rob Roy " is laid. Thursday morning 
 was clear and lovely, and I took the train early for 
 the foot of Loch Lomond (Balloch), and then the 
 steamer up the lake ; it is a glorious sail, different 
 from anything I know in America, and full of romantic 
 interest ; then across by coach to Loch Katrine, and 
 down that beautiful lake by steamer. This is the one 
 celebrated in the " Lady of the Lake," and you pass 
 right by Ellen's Isle. Then by coach through the 
 Trossachs, a splendid mountain gorge, to Stirling, 
 where I spent Thursday night ; saw the great castle 
 and the old home of the Scottish kings. This 
 brought me to Edinburgh on Friday morning. Of 
 Edinburgh I cannot say enough. It is the queen of 
 cities, the most romantic, picturesque, un-American, 
 old-world town that ever was. I have been there till 
 to-day, and would like to have stayed a week longer ; 
 its beauty is not forgettable, and its quaint sights are 
 past all description. I went to church there on Sun- 
 day: in the morning to one of the plainest of all plain 
 Scotch Presbyterian churches, where you sat on a 
 board as wide as three matches, and heard a sermon of 
 an hour long; and in the afternoon to an Episcopal 
 chiu'ch, where the service was intoned. 
 
 How strange these old towns are! You do not 
 think of them as belonging to these days. They seem 
 to have done their work in the world, and handed it 
 over to us, and crept under their glass cases where 
 they are kept for shows. Still, let me say for Edin- 
 burgh that I found it practical enough to get there a 
 traveling suit of fine Scotch tweed, for which I paid 
 only five pounds, which is less than half what it would 
 have cost me in America. Monday I went down to 
 Abbotsford and " Fair Melrose." It is like a dream 
 
SCOTLAND. 7 
 
 to see these places. Sir Walter, the splendid old 
 fellow, seems to walk and talk with you. It was the 
 day I had been looking for, ever since I first read 
 your old Lockhart's Life some fifteen years ago. It 
 will always be -one of my memorable days. Yesterday 
 I was at Koslyn Chapel and Hawthornden, both 
 beautiful, the chapel a wonderful little gem of sculp- 
 ture ; then back to Edinburgh in the afternoon and 
 up Arthur's Seat, the famous hill which overlooks 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 I am on my way now to the English lakes, and have 
 stopped here over night to see the old abbey, and a 
 Scotch family to whom I have a letter of introduction. 
 I have seen a good deal of Scotchmen. Their thrift 
 and intelligence demand respect, but they are cold. 
 I spent the evening in Glasgow with the family of a 
 professor there, who all talked the broadest and most 
 unintelligible Scotch. The professor insisted that 
 Pennsylvania was a city, but was pretty well informed 
 about our war and politics, — an Abolitionist and a 
 Northern man. I wish that you could see this queer 
 little town. It is Scotland in a nutshell. 
 
 Thursday p. M. 
 
 I was broken off here, and must close my letter 
 hastily to make sure of Saturday's steamer. I am 
 very well, and enjoying everything very much indeed, 
 as you can see. To-day I have spent about Jedburgh 
 with the Andersons, to whom I had a letter, and who 
 prove to be very pleasant people. Sunday I expect 
 to spend at Windermere on the lake ; after that I 
 shall begin to get towards London, reaching there in 
 about ten days. 
 
 . . . Love to everybody. How I should like to 
 
8 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 see you all! I shall depend on getting a letter at 
 London. Your affectionate son, 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Queen's Hotel, Manchester, 
 Tuesday, September 5, 1865. 
 
 Dear Mother, — My last letter was directed from 
 Jedburgh, Scotland. This, as you see, comes from 
 Manchester. I have reached England since I wrote, 
 and seen something of it already. From Jedburgh I 
 went to Kelso and Berwick-on-Tweed ; thence to New- 
 castle-on-Tyne, and to Durham, where I spent a few 
 hours and saw one of the greatest and best of the 
 English cathedrals ; then to the little village of Bar- 
 nard Castle, where I spent the night, and on to Win- 
 dermere in Westmoreland. My present enthusiasm is 
 the English lakes. They are very beautiful. I walked 
 from Windermere to Ambleside at the head of Lake 
 Windermere, and spent Sunday there, a thorough 
 English Sunday. I attended service in the parish 
 church. At Ambleside, or rather close by, at Rydal, 
 are the old homes of Wordsworth and Dr. Arnold, 
 and a few miles off, at Grasmere, the homes of 
 Hartley Coleridge and De Quincey. From there I 
 went on Monday, by coach, through a splendid lake 
 and mountain region, to Keswick on Derwentwater, 
 where Southey lived and is buried, and then by rail 
 via Lancaster to Manchester, where I arrived last 
 night. Here I came across Americans again. I have 
 seen three or four already from Philadelphia. This 
 hotel is one of the great resorts of Americans in Eng- 
 land. I am going to make one or two calls here, and 
 then shall be off to York. 
 
YORK. 9 
 
 Wednesday Morning, September 6. 
 
 I spent last evening at Mrs. Gaskell's. She is 
 an authoress ; wrote the Life of Charlotte Bronte and 
 several novels ; a charming lady and most hospitable. 
 I had a letter to her from Philadelphia. She knows 
 all the literary people in England and told me a great 
 deal about them. I met there a Mr. Winkworth, 
 brother of the lady who did the " Lyra Germanica." 
 He is the most intelligent Englishman about our affairs 
 that I have seen. This was the pleasantest meeting 
 with English people that I have had. Mrs. Gaskell 
 promised me a letter to Ruskin, in London, with whom 
 she is very intimate. 
 
 YoKK, Thursday Evening, September 7. 
 
 You see I began this sheet all WTong, and so you 
 will have to make its order out by the dates. When 
 I left off I was at Manchester. I left there yesterday 
 forenoon, and reached here about two o'clock. Here, 
 you know, is the greatest of the English cathedrals. 
 I went all over it yesterday afternoon, and attended the 
 evening service. The music was very fine. This 
 morning I took the train early and have spent the day 
 at Ripon, where there is another fine cathedral, and at 
 Fountains Abbey, which is the oldest and most com- 
 plete of the old monastic establishments. I am back 
 here to-night, and shall start in the morning for Lin- 
 coln, Ely, Cambridge, and so to London. I should like 
 very much to stop at Boston, just for association's sake, 
 and shall, if I have time. 
 
 York is, I suppose, the oldest city I have seen yet. 
 Here we get our first sight of the old Romans, who 
 had a splendid town here, and whose old wall still 
 remains. 
 
10 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD, 
 
 I am afraid my letters sound very much like guide- 
 books. You must forgive me, but remember that I 
 have nothing to write except what I see and hear. 
 You can see that I am going all the time, and from 
 morning to night. There has not yet been one stormy 
 day, and I have enjoyed everything hugely. I have 
 been well all the time. So far, I have seen hardly 
 anything of Americans, for I have been off their 
 routes. I have talked with Englishmen in the trains 
 and at the hotels. I had no idea till I came here 
 what a tremendous American I was. I have n't seen 
 a New York paper since I left. How I shall revel in 
 all your letters next week. Good-by. God bless you 
 aU. Phillips. 
 
 Golden Cboss Hotel, Charing Cross, London, 
 Sunday Evening, September 10, 1865. 
 
 Dear Father, — At last communication is re- 
 sumed. I arrived here yesterday, and found at Bar- 
 ings your noble, long letter, in which I reveled. I 
 hope to get others to-morrow by the steamer which 
 arrived yesterday. How good it was to get in sound 
 of you again and hear the wheels in Chauncy Street 
 moving on as smoothly and pleasantly as ever. By 
 this time you are all together again except Fred, and 
 he will be there soon. How I wish that I could sit 
 down with you ! 
 
 My last I mailed at Lincoln. From there I went 
 to Boston. How strange it seemed ! As we rode 
 over the marshes (fens, they call them here) that 
 surround the town, and saw the bricky mass rising 
 before us, it was easy to believe that we were coming 
 in over the Back Bay and would be with you at 
 supper. It is a pretty little town of about 11,000 
 
LONDON. 11 
 
 people. You walk up from the station through 
 Lincoln Street to the church, which is the principal 
 object of the town. It is a fine old piece of architec- 
 ture. The sexton, who showed me through it, was very- 
 civil, especially when I told him where I came from. 
 The vicar was away, or I should have called on him. 
 I left my card for him. The Cotton Chapel is a nice 
 little room, well restored ; you see it on the right, or 
 south side of the church, in the exterior one of the 
 views that I send you. They still use the old John 
 Cotton pulpit, but the sexton told me that they 
 thought of getting a new one and giving the old relic 
 to the American Boston. 
 
 I went then to Peterborough, where I meant to spend 
 the night and go to Cambridge the next day, but 
 Peterborough was so full, owing to a great sheep-fair, 
 that I could not find lodgings, and concluded to come 
 right through to London and go to Cambridge by and 
 by ; so this is my second day in London. I am right in 
 the centre of the City at the head of the Strand, close 
 to Trafalgar Square and Westminster Abbey. It is a 
 fascinating place, for there is not a step that is not 
 full of association. I have seen little yet in detail. 
 To-morrow I begin. To-day I went to hear Spurgeon, 
 and found myself in an immense crowd and rush. 
 He is not graceful nor thoughtful nor imaginative, 
 and preached a great deal too long, but he is earnest, 
 simple, direct, and held the hosts of plain-looking 
 people wonderfully. I believe with all his rudeness 
 and narrowness and lack of higher powers that he is 
 doing a good work here. 
 
12 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 Thursday Evening, September 14. 
 
 This must go into the mail to-morrow, so I shall 
 finish it to-night. Since Sunday I have been seeing 
 London, and have been very busy. Let me see: 
 Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral, the Brit- 
 ish Museum, the Tower, the National Gallery, the 
 Sydenham Crystal Palace, Regent's Park and its 
 Zoological Gardens, the Tunnel, with lots of lesser 
 sights, and the greatest sight of all which one has 
 always in wandering about the streets of this great 
 Babel. To-day I took the steamer on the Thames, all 
 the way along past the City, and through its old 
 bridges. Every rod here has some interest of its own. 
 Yesterday I dined at Mr. Adams's at half past seven 
 o'clock, a very pleasant dinner, and both Mr. and Mrs. 
 Adams were very cordial and hospitable. Mrs. Adams 
 was especially full of inquiries about you and mother. 
 Their son Henry, and daughter, and one or two others 
 were there. On Monday I go down into Hampshire 
 to visit Mrs. Kemble. I have a very kind and pressing 
 invitation from her. From there I shall very probably 
 keep on into the Isle of Wight. I do not know how 
 to find time enough for England, especially for Lon- 
 don, as I must leave here by the 10th of October. I 
 have left the hotel and gone into lodgings at Mrs. 
 Dekker's, No. 1 A, Craven Street, Strand. It is a 
 little cheaper and a great deal more comfortable. 
 
 I was very much disappointed at not getting letters 
 from any of you by the last steamer. I do hope the 
 next will bring some. Don't forget me. 
 
 I am so tired, to-night, as every night, that I can 
 hardly write, so you must forgive the poorness of this 
 letter. I think of you all and home constantly. Tell 
 Fred to write. I have a letter from Franks, who 
 
HAMPSHIRE. 13 
 
 talked of going to Boston with him. I hope he did. 
 God bless you all. Affectionately, 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Wabnford Cottage, Bishops-Waltham, Hampshirb, 
 Wednesday, September 20, 1865. 
 
 Dear William, — To-day's letter must be to you. 
 You certainly deserve it for the splendid long epistle 
 which I received last Saturday, for which I cannot 
 thank you enough. I am glad that you had so 
 pleasant a visit at Trenton and Saratoga, and I en- 
 joyed your account of it exceedingly. Certainly, so 
 far as mere natural beauty is concerned, I do not 
 believe there is any need of one's leaving America. 
 
 I am writing this before breakfast (they don't 
 breakfast till half past nine) at the window of a little 
 English cottage which looks out on as perfect an 
 English scene as you can imagine. There is a piece 
 of lawn like velvet in front, with gorgeous flower beds 
 spotted over it ; then a hawthorn hedge shutting out 
 from view a little winding lane, beyond which are the 
 broad, smooth hills of Warnford Park, with splendid 
 great trees grouped about over it, and the Hall in 
 the distance, which owns and rules the whole estate. 
 Isn't that English? I am staying here with Mrs. 
 Kemble, who occupies this little cottage close to the 
 large estate of her brother-in-law. He owns the Hall. 
 I came here on Monday, and have enjoyed my visit 
 very much. Mrs. Kemble is, as I expected, very 
 bright and interesting, very kind, hospitable, and cour- 
 teous. The family is only herself and one daughter, 
 who is just as bright as her mother. Yesterday I 
 drove out with Mrs. Kemble to Winchester, about 
 twelve miles, where I gaw the cathedral, in some 
 
14 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 respects one of the finest in England, and called on 
 one of the canons, to whom I had a letter from 
 Bishop Mcllvaine. The drive there was very beau- 
 tiful, over the Downs, as they call them, a soft roll- 
 ing country, spotted over with the sheep who are 
 to supply the Southdown mutton, which you know is 
 the gi*eat product of this part of England. To-day I 
 shall leave here and go to the Isle of Wight, getting 
 back to London on Friday, and then I shall get ready 
 at once to go on the Continent. I find it is impossi- 
 ble at this time of year to see people or institutions 
 in England to advantage ; so I propose to go to Ger- 
 many and the East a little earlier, and thus secure 
 time in the spring to run over here when everything 
 is in full blast and I can do it more satisfactorily. I 
 have seen most of the " sights " of London. After I 
 wrote to you I went to Hyde Park and the Kensing- 
 ton Museum, where is the best collection of modern 
 English pictures, Reynolds and Hogarth, and Wil- 
 kie and Leslie, etc. There is the original of the 
 "Blind Fiddler" over the nursery mantelpiece at 
 No. 41. The whole museum is very interesting. 
 Mrs. Gaskell sent me a letter to Mr. Euskin, and 
 I drove out to Denmark Hill, where he lives, to 
 present it. He was not at home, so I only had the 
 pleasure of seeing his house, but I shall see him, I 
 hope, by and by. The house is a veiy pretty subur- 
 ban mansion ; a fine picture of Turner's was over the 
 mantelpiece. I saw a good deal of the Adamses. 
 Mrs. and Miss Adams came to my lodgings and left 
 a card, " The Minister of the United States." Sun- 
 day I dined with them ; Sunday morning I went to 
 the Foundlings' Chapel, where the children do some 
 of the best chanting in London ; in the afternoon I 
 
BONN, 15 
 
 went to St. Paul's Cathedral and heard a capital ser- 
 mon from Melville, who is called one of the best preach- 
 ers in England. I called on Dean Milman with Mr. 
 Winthrop's letter, and had a very pleasant visit. He 
 lives in a curious old deanery close to the cathedral. 
 
 My next will be dated somewhere the other side of 
 the Channel. All goes well with me so far, as you 
 see. I am in capital health and spirits. Just now 
 I think of you all together at home ; how happy you 
 must be. Do write to me every week, for steamer day 
 is always looked for eagerly. It has been very hot 
 here, but is cooler now, and England is the most 
 beautiful thing you can conceive. Good-by. God 
 bless you all. 
 
 Phill. 
 
 Hotel Goldeneb Stern, Bonn, 
 Monday, October 2, 1865. 
 
 Dear Mother, — Isn't this a funny place from 
 which to write you? I wish you could see it, you 
 would think it funnier still ; but you would have to 
 allow that it is very pretty. It stands on the Ehine 
 just before you come to the Seven Mountains, where 
 the beauty of the Rhine commences, and is one of those 
 queer old German cities which we have always pictured 
 and know so little about until we have seen them. 
 But I might as well go back to where I was at my last 
 writing. I told Fred to send you my letter from 
 London, so I will begin there. On Tuesday morning 
 I went by rail to Dover, and thence by boat to Ostend. 
 Everybody expects to be seasick on the Channel, 
 but I was disappointed. We had a four hours' sail, 
 as quiet and gentle as if we were going down to 
 Hingham. It was most charming, and not a soul on 
 
16 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 board suffered from the sea. We came up to the wharf 
 at Ostend, and felt at once that we were in Europe. 
 I brushed up my French and went ashore, passed the 
 custom-house examination, and took train by Bruges 
 to Ghent, a queer old town full of historic interest; 
 from there to Brussels, a lively French town. I 
 found it right in the midst of its annual fete of 
 national independence. The streets were illuminated, 
 fireworks everywhere, and people sitting at tables 
 drinking beer in honor of independent Belgium. I 
 found all the best hotels full, and was crowded into a 
 poor one, and jabbered my French for the first time 
 to waiters and chambermaids. I went from Brussels 
 to see the field of Waterloo. Everybody does, though 
 it was n't much of a battle by the side of Gettysburg 
 and Antietam*. They run an English mail-coaxih out 
 there every day. Then I saw the Brussels streets and 
 churches. From Brussels to Antwerp, a dear old city, 
 full of Rubens's pictures and the quaintest old Flem- 
 ish houses and costumes. From Antwerp to Rotter- 
 dam, part by rail and part by steamer, up the Maas, 
 through miles of dykes and windmills into my first 
 Dutch towuo Such a language as they talked there ! 
 I have n't half an idea what anybody said to me. I 
 made a tolerable show of French and got along splen- 
 didly in German, but the Dutch was too much for me. 
 I could only smile blandly and point what I thought 
 was the nearest way to the next town. From Rotter- 
 dam to the Hague, a nice old place with canals instead 
 of streets, and fine old pictures of Rembrandt and 
 Rubens, and a lot of others ; then to Amsterdam, 
 where all is canal and not street again, and the 
 horrible Dutch tongue still. I went to the New 
 Church (built in 1408) and heard them sing two 
 
BONN. 17 
 
 verses of a liyinn in their language. That was enough, 
 and I ran down the nearest canal to the English 
 church and heard our own dear liturgy and a sermon 
 from the English chaplain instead. From Amsterdam 
 to Diisseldorf, where the pictures come from and 
 where many splendid ones are still, to Cologne, where 
 the great unfinished cathedral is, at which they have 
 been working six hundred years ; and from there, here. 
 To-day, I have come into Germany, where they speak 
 German and charge you for your dinner in thalers. 
 I like the Germans much. I respect the Dutch, but 
 I would not live among them for a million a year. 
 To-day, too, I have come into the region of Komish 
 churches and relics. I have seen the skulls of the 
 Three Wise Men, the thorns of Christ's Crown, 
 the wood of the True Cross, one of the water pots of 
 Cana of Galilee, the steps of Pilate's Judgment Seat, 
 and a church lined with the skulls and bones of the 
 eleven thousand martyred virgins of Cologne. Of 
 course you are expected to believe in them all, and 
 is n't that pretty well for one day ? But the cathedral 
 is very noble, by all means one of the great sights of 
 the world. 
 
 That brings me to Bonn. From here trace me to 
 Coblentz, Mayence, Heidelberg, Frankfort (where I 
 have directed my letters to be sent and hope to hear 
 from you), Leipsic, and Berlin. Am I not a lucky 
 chap to see all this? I am splendidly well, and keep 
 on the go all the time, and, as I said, am getting the 
 hang of German enough to be quite at home with the 
 people. I eschew all delicacies and rough it gen- 
 erally. Last night for the first time I found a feather 
 bed for covering in my room. I kicked it off and 
 slept like a top without it. The worst thing to me 
 
18 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 about this traveling is that you can't drink water. 
 Think of my misery. But it is too vile to touch. 
 However, we are now in the region of light Rhine 
 wines. For twelve and a haK groschen (25 cents) 
 you get a bottle of good wine which answers pretty 
 well, but I would give a doUar for a pitcher of ice 
 water to-night. AU living here is cheap, but in Hol- 
 land it is very dear and very poor indeed. I think I 
 did right in coming alone, that is, as no very intimate 
 friend offered. I find companions everywhere, and see 
 much more of the people than if I were with a party 
 of my own. It costs a little more, because I have to 
 pay aU fees, which are a great expense here for one, 
 instead of dividing them among a party. To-day I 
 met a Philadelphian on the steps of Cologne cathedral, 
 and last week I found a family of parishioners at the 
 Hotel St. Antoine in Antwerp. 
 
 My dearest mother, you cannot think how strange 
 it seems to be writing in this little German inn, and 
 knowing that you will read it in the old back par- 
 lor at home, where you have read my letters from 
 Cambridge, Alexandria, and Philadelphia. Johnnie 
 will bring it up from the post office some night, and 
 Trip wiU break out into one of his horrible concerts 
 two or three times while you are reading it. Then 
 as soon as it is over, father wiU get out his big candle 
 and you will put up the stockings, and all go up the old 
 stairway to the old chambers, and to bed. Well, good- 
 night and pleasant dreams to you all, and don't forget 
 that I am off here wandering up and down these old 
 countries and thinking ever so much about you. At 
 Frankfort, where I hope to be early next week, I shall 
 find your letters and have a talk with you again. 
 
CASSEL. 19 
 
 And now, good-night ; peace and every blessing be 
 with you always. God bless you all. 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Casseii, Germany, 
 Monday Evening, October 9, 1865. 
 
 My dear William, — Just before I left Frank- 
 fort-on-the-Main to-day, I went to the bankers' and 
 found there your good letter of September 22. It 
 was my company on a lovely ride up the country to 
 this queer old German town, whence I answer it from 
 the dining-room of the Romlicher Kaiser hotel. A 
 thousand thanks for it. I shall not write so good a 
 one, but I will try to tell you what I have been doing 
 in a very busy week since I wrote to mother last Mon- 
 day night from Bonn. I left there by the Ehine boat 
 and landed first at Kaiserwinter, on the right bank at 
 the foot of the Drachenf els ; climbed that hill and saw 
 one of the loveliest views in the world from the old 
 castle at its top. We went up through vineyards and 
 looked down on the Rhine winding past the Seven 
 Mountains ever so far towards the sea. Kaiserwinter 
 is a charming little German village, and on my return 
 from the hill I heard the bells chiming, and stopped to 
 ask what it meant. I was told it was a " Fest " or 
 village feast, and so roamed into the village to see it. 
 It was the most perfect German picture. The young 
 men of the village were firing at a mark in a little 
 wine garden, and all the hamlet were gathered to drink 
 the new wine and look at them. By and by the bird 
 was shot down, and the man who shot it down was 
 thereby king of the Feast. He had the privilege of 
 choosing the prettiest girl in town for the queen, and 
 then, with a rustic band of music, the procession, 
 
20 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 headed by the king and queen, marched through the 
 old streets and called on all the gentry, who treated 
 them and gave them contributions for a feast, to which 
 they all returned in the garden. Here they made 
 merry through the afternoon, and closed all with a 
 dance. It was just like a German story book. 
 
 Juch-he, juch-he, juch-heise, heise, he, 
 So ging der fiedelbogen. 
 
 Think of being at a dance of German peasants on 
 the Rhine ! From here I took the boat again, and sail- 
 ing down past vine-covered hills topped with ruined 
 castles, I came at last to Coblentz. Here I stopped 
 again and climbed to the Castle of Ehrenbreitstein, 
 where was another view of the Rhine and the Moselle, 
 which flows into it just here. Then the boat again, 
 past the great Castle of Stolzenfels and countless 
 others, one on almost every height, till we came to 
 St. Goar, the most delightful little village on the left 
 bank. Here another stop, and then on through the 
 region of the choicest vineyards to Mayence, the 
 quaintest of old fortified towns. You have no idea 
 of the beauty of this river from Bonn to Mayence. 
 I think we have rivers whose scenery by nature is as 
 fine, but the castles and ruins have grown to be a part 
 of the nature, and are not separable from it, and the 
 soft October air and sunlight of those days showed 
 everything at its utmost beauty. The trees were gor- 
 geous in color with not a leaf fallen, and the vineyards 
 climbing the hills, and perching on every inch of 
 ground that faced the southern sun, were very inter- 
 esting. 
 
 From Mayence I went to Worms, where Luther 
 dared the Diet ; then to Mannheim, and so to Heidel- 
 berg. Of all beautiful places this is the most perfect 
 
CASS EL. 21 
 
 It lies along the Neckar, and is overlooked everywhere 
 by the noblest of old ruined castles. Here is one of 
 the great universities which I went to see. The boys 
 looked pretty much like Cambridge juniors, except 
 where here and there you see one with his face all 
 slashed up from a duel. Let us be thankful Cam- 
 bridge has not got to that. 
 
 From here I went up to Wiesbaden, one of the great 
 watering and gambling places, a splendid German 
 Saratoga. It was in full blast, and I saw the roulette 
 and rouge-et-noir tables in the gorgeous saloons 
 crowded day and night. At night, a great free concert 
 by a splendid band, and illumination of the beautiful 
 grounds. It was a strange sight. Then to Frankfort, 
 where I spent Sunday at the Hotel de Russie. It is 
 a fine town, part of it very old and quaint, part very 
 new and fine ; there are some good pictures, some 
 good statuary, and an old cathedral, where I went and 
 heard a German sermon and some splendid German 
 music. Goethe was born here, and his house still 
 stands. To-day, I came from Frankfort here, through 
 one of the richest historic regions of all Germany. 
 This is another of those old towns to which I am get- 
 ting very used, and which delight me more and more. 
 I like the Germans immensely. They are frank, kind, 
 sociable, and hearty. They give you an idea of a 
 people with ever so much yet to do in the world, 
 capable of much fresh thought and action. Their 
 language is like them, noble, vigorous, and simple. 
 I am getting hold of it very well. They think for 
 themselves and unselfishly, and they believe in 
 America. Their peasants are poor, but seem intelli- 
 gent, and their better classes have the most charming 
 civility. I have seen more pretty women than I saw 
 
22 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD, 
 
 in all England, and I have not seen the best of Ger- 
 many. I am impatient to get to Hanover, and Berlin, 
 and Dresden, where one sees the finest specimens. 
 
 Here, then, you have another week's biography. Is 
 it not fuU enough ? My next will be from Dresden. 
 I shall spend all this month in Germany, and about 
 the first of November leave Vienna for the East. I 
 am splendidly weU and happy all the time, but very 
 often, to-night, for instance, I would like to look in 
 upon you aU at home, and teU and hear a thousand 
 things that will not go on paper. As to money, you 
 will get two drafts, one in London and one in Cologne. 
 These currencies with their perpetual changes are 
 great nuisances. First, in Belgium, it was francs and 
 centimes ; then, in Holland, thalers and groschen ; 
 then, in Prussia, florins and kreutzers ; and now back 
 to thalers and groschen again. 
 
 I received a weekly " Herald " to-day ; many thanks. 
 Send one once in a while, say once a month, for the 
 only paper on the Continent that pretends to give 
 American news is the London " Times." 
 
 It is two months to-day since I sailed. How they 
 have gone ! And to me they have been the fullest 
 months of my life. Not a day without something that 
 I have longed all my life to see. So it will go on tiU 
 I see the sight that I shall be most glad of all to 
 see, you and father waiting on the wharf to see me 
 land, as you came down before to see me sail. 
 
 Good-by; love in lots to father and mother, and 
 Arthur and John and Trip, and Fred when you writa 
 God bless you all. Phill. 
 
BERLIN. 23 
 
 Berlin, 
 Tuesday, October 17, 1865. 
 
 Dear Father, — I will begin a letter here and 
 finish it in Dresden, where I go to-day. I have been 
 here since Friday, the longest stay I have made any- 
 where since I left London. Let me see, my last was 
 to William from Cassel, a week ago yesterday. From 
 there I went to Eisenach, where Luther's prison is 
 in the old Wartburg Castle ; then to Weimar, where 
 Goethe and Schiller lived ; then to Leipsic, where the 
 great fair was going on ; then to Halle, where the 
 university is, and where I stayed and called on several 
 of the professors, to whom I had letters. They were 
 very cordial and pleasant, and I enjoyed my visit there 
 very much; then to Wittenberg, which is the great 
 shrine of Luther: his house just as he left it, the 
 church where he preached and nailed his Theses to 
 the door, his grave, his monument, and countless other 
 memorials of him. Melanchthon lived here too, and 
 his house is still preserved. Thence to Magdeburg, 
 a fine old town with a fine old cathedral, and then to 
 this Berlin, the Prussian capital, one of the brightest 
 and most beautiful of all the great cities of Europe. 
 I am staying at the Hotel du Nord, in the street called 
 Unter den Linden, right opposite the splendid statue 
 of Frederick the Great, and in view of a dozen noble 
 buildings, the palace, museum, university, etc. Here 
 is one of the great picture galleries, which I have ex- 
 plored thoroughly and know well. I have been to 
 several private collections besides. There are many 
 Americans here. I went to a soiree on Saturday 
 evening at our minister's. Governor Wright's, and met 
 some fifty. I have also seen a good deal of the family 
 of Dr. Abbott, to whom I had a letter, and who is 
 
24 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 a capital fellow. I have dined there two or three 
 times, and have met his father-in-law, Mr. Fay, for- 
 merly our minister to Switzerland, who has given me 
 a good letter to Motley in Vienna. You see I do not 
 lack for company and friends. I found that the Ger- 
 mans were much interested in our f reedmen, and I got 
 quite back into my last winter's harness, in making a 
 speech on the subject to a meeting of German gentle- 
 men at the American embassy. Tell Fred I used 
 him. These Germans are with us out and out. The 
 professors at Halle are Abolitionists of the strongest 
 sort. It is very refreshing to be with them after be- 
 ing in England. Berlin is a charming city, the head- 
 quarters of art and science and music. I went to a 
 capital concert here last night. I almost hate to leave 
 the town. 
 
 I get no letters since I left Frankfort, and shall 
 not now till next week, when I arrive at Munich. I 
 have ordered them sent there. You have no idea 
 what eras in a traveler's life are his arrivals at places 
 where his letters meet him. I always rush to the 
 banker's for them the first thing. 
 
 Munich, Thursday Evening, October 26. 
 I beg pardon most humbly for this long gap. The 
 truth was I got as far as that, and then went to dinner, 
 my last day, at Dr. Abbott's, and right after dinner 
 left Berlin for Dresden, and since then have been so 
 busy that letter writing has been neglected. I reached 
 here yesterday, and found letters from father and 
 mother and Fred and Franks, all in one bundle ; and 
 to-day I dropped in at the banker's again and found 
 William's letter of the 3d ; so now I certainly must 
 write, and will go back to where I left off in Berlin 
 
MUNICH. 25 
 
 a week ago last Monday. I rode direct to Dresden, 
 where I spent two days ; and such days ! Oh, if you 
 could see the picture gallery there ! it has the picture of 
 the world which I have waited years to see, Raphael's 
 Madonna di San Sisto. I will not say anything about 
 it, because there is no use trying to tell what a man 
 feels who has been wanting to enjoy something for 
 fifteen years, and when it comes finds it is something 
 unspeakably beyond what he had dreamed. 
 
 The other rooms of the gallery are rich in the great 
 paintings of the world. Then I took the train to 
 Prague, passing into Bohemia and showing my pass- 
 port to the inquisitive Austrian officials at Bodenach. 
 Prague is the queerest old Austrian town, with splen- 
 did views, grand old churches, some good pictures, fine 
 palaces, and the strangest old synagogue in Europe. 
 Then to Nuremberg, the oldest-looking town on the 
 Continent ; old without an admixture or intrusion of 
 the new, to-day as completely a town of three hundred 
 years ago as it was then. Tell William to read you 
 Longfellow^s poem of " Nuremberg " aloud to-night, 
 and you will know just what I saw and how I felt. 
 From Nuremberg to Ratisbon, another of the very old 
 towns, with one of the most perfect cathedrals and 
 the Valhalla or Temple of Fame, on the banks of the 
 Danube. Here was my first sight of the great river. 
 Then from Ratisbon here, where I am sitting in my 
 room of the third story of the Vierjahreszeiten (that 
 means " Four Seasons ") Hotel, writing this letter to 
 you. Munich is in its beauty a new town, but splen- 
 didly full of interest. Let me see. Here is the great 
 Gallery of Old Pictures, the Gallery of Moderns, one 
 of the great sculpture galleries of the world, the great 
 royal foundry, the second greatest library, the largest 
 
26 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 bronze statue, the finest church glass, and the noblest 
 public buildings in Europe. Is that enough, and is n't 
 this last a week to cross the Atlantic for ? Dresden, 
 Prague, Nuremberg, and Munich ! I will say no more 
 about them, but be sure I am very well contented with 
 my lot. 
 
 Your letters were delightful to get. I could see you 
 all sitting around the table writing them and talking 
 as the work went on. How you must have enjoyed 
 your visit from Fred ! I am very glad that Franks 
 went on with him. He is a nice boy, a great pet of 
 mine, and more than that, a fellow of a great deal of 
 earnestness, ability, determination, and sterling char- 
 acter. You may well be glad to have given him so 
 much enjoyment as he seems to have had in Boston. 
 Of course, before this they are both hard at work 
 again in Philadelphia. 
 
 I shall be here one day longer, and then leave for 
 Salzburg, Vienna, Pesth, and Trieste, whence I expect 
 to sail on the 10th of November for the great East. 
 You will gather from my letter that all goes well and 
 I am very happy. There has not been an hour since 
 I left New York that has not been full of pleasure, not 
 a day that has not been lighted up by seeing some of 
 the sights for which I have longed. And all the East 
 and Italy and France and much of England and Swit- 
 zerland is yet in store. Hurrah ! 
 
 This place is full of English and Americans. I had 
 a discussion at the table d'hote yesterday with an 
 English gentleman, during which lots of American 
 secessionists got up and left. General McClellan is in 
 Dresden, but I did not see him, and slept soundly in 
 the same city with the great Coppery hero. 
 
 I have a letter from Mr. Coffin, who reports all well 
 
ON THE DANUBE. 27 
 
 in the church matters. He says Dr. Butler is doing 
 everything there is to do, so I feel easier to be wan- 
 dering about here in this delightful way. 
 
 And now good-night. Before you get this I shall 
 be on my way to the Lands of the Sun. Think of me, 
 pray for me, and write to me. God bless you, and 
 keep us all, and bring us safe together again by and 
 by. Lots of love to all. Phillips. 
 
 Poor Trip ! ! 
 
 Steamboat Francis-Joseph, on the Danube, 
 Sunday, November 5, 1865. 
 
 Dear Wllliam, — This is the funniest yet. Here 
 I am fairly on my way to the East. I am sitting in 
 a little cabin, with a perfect Babel about me. Every 
 language except English is in my ears, German, 
 Italian, French, Hungarian, Greek, and I know not 
 how many more besides. Outside it is raining guns. 
 The old river is broad, shallow, and vilely muddy. 
 The banks are low and gravelly, except where here 
 and there the great Carpathian Mountains gather 
 down about the stream and make a grand gorge 
 where the river goes whirling and dashing through. 
 We have just done breakfast, which is served at ten 
 o'clock, with meats and poor Hungarian wines. 
 Every now and then we pass a miserable little Turk- 
 ish village, with its dirty, strange-dressed peasants. 
 It is not much like Sunday morning, but I must 
 make the best of it, and do not know how I can use it 
 better than by writing home, so here goes. 
 
 You have kept the run of me, I hope, as far as 
 Munich, the most beautiful of German cities. From 
 there I took the train to Salzburg, where I spent two 
 days. One of them was occupied in a long excursion 
 to the Konigsee, a lake in the Styrian Alps, shut in 
 
28 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 by snowy-topped mountains, with glaciers all down 
 their sides. The lake itseK is lovely, with its deep 
 green waters, and picturesque Tyrolese boatmen row 
 you up to its head and back again. Then you stop 
 and dine at a little Alpine cottage inn at the foot, 
 and after dinner drive to Berchtesgaden, where the 
 great salt mines are. Here you dress up in full 
 miner's rig, and walk a mile or two into the heart of 
 a mountain, and then, sitting down on two parallel 
 bars with a man in front to hold your legs, you slide 
 like lightning down into the bowels of the earth and 
 come to a great salt lake (lit up by hundreds of 
 lamps) which you are rowed across by two subterra- 
 nean beings who look like fiends ; then another walk 
 and another slide bring you to a vast temple, no- 
 body knows how far under ground, with a dome of 
 infinite darkness, where some more fiends are draw- 
 ing up the salt rock from unfathomable depths still 
 below. All the way, as your lamp shines on the 
 walls or ceilings, they sparkle all over with the pre- 
 cious crystals ; then some more avenues, till you 
 reach the salt grotto where the choicest specimens 
 have been collected, and there you sit down on a 
 little railway car, which plunges along with you 
 through the mountain till it whirls you at last out 
 into daylight, and your visit to the great salt mines 
 is over. It is one of the most unique and splendid 
 things to do in Europe. I would n't have missed its 
 interest and beauty for anything. My second day in 
 Salzburg was Sunday. I went to all the churches 
 and heard their services and music, and saw the 
 people in their holiday dress. Of course it is all 
 Roman Catholic ; there is nothing Protestant in the 
 town. In the afternoon I went up to the great castle 
 
VIENNA. 29 
 
 and saw the view, which is one of the noblest on the 
 Continent. Then I hunted up the grave of old Para- 
 celsus, the middle-age magician, and his house, where 
 I amazed an old German lady by insisting on seeing 
 his room, which I succeeded in doing and in which I 
 was much interested. Then to the houses where 
 Mozart was born and where he lived, and wound up 
 by following a funeral procession, which went chanting 
 with banners and incense through the town, into an 
 old graveyard behind one of the churches. 
 
 From Salzburg by Linz to Vienna. What shall I 
 say about Vienna? Here is another of the great 
 picture galleries, with its Raphaels, Titians, Rem- 
 brandts, Rubenses, and countless others, whom one 
 learns to know and admire in these splendid collec- 
 tions. Pictures and churches are the two great 
 attractions of these old towns. Vienna has a grand 
 old cathedral with the most beautiful of Gothic spires. 
 I was there on All Saints' Day and heard high mass, 
 with an old cardinal officiating, and a full band and 
 splendid choir of men and boys doing the music. 
 
 The next day was All Souls', when the Romish 
 Church commemorates the dead. All the churches 
 were draped in mourning, masses were sung, the 
 graveyards were full of people, and in one of the 
 churches the vaults were thrown open and the coffins 
 of the Austrian emperors from time immemorial 
 were shown to hosts of people, who crawled down to 
 see them, among whom was I. In Munich they do 
 better still, and show you the very corpses of their 
 emperors preserved in glass chests full of spirits. I 
 did not see their majesties, but I saw an old saint, 
 six hundred years old, kept in this way in one of 
 the churches. Vienna is great in relics. A piece of 
 
30 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 the tablecloth of the Last Supper, a piece of John 
 the Baptist's robes, St. Anne's arm-bone, nails from 
 the Cross, a large piece of the Cross, and lots of 
 others, — all these are used at the coronations of the 
 emperors. I dined at Vienna with Mr. Motley of 
 the " Dutch Republic," who is our minister there, 
 and found him full of hospitality and very pleasant. 
 I had a letter to him from Mr. Fay in Berlin. I 
 stayed here three days, and bought my last outfits, 
 thick boots, blankets, etc., for the East. 
 
 At Vienna I met Dr. Leeds of Philadelphia (for- 
 merly of Salem), who is also for the East, and we 
 joined company for the present. It is almost neces- 
 sary, and certainly a great deal cheaper, to have 
 some company in Syria. We left Vienna on Friday, 
 and concluded to go down the Danube to Constanti- 
 nople, thence by steamer to Beyrout, thence through 
 Syria to Jerusalem, getting to Bethlehem at Christ- 
 mas, when there is a great service there ; then to 
 Jaffa, and thence to Egypt ; then Greece, and so back 
 to Italy. We took rail to Pesth and then to Baziasch 
 on the river, where we took a steamer which carries 
 us to Tchernavoda, whence we cross by rail to Kus- 
 tenji on the Black Sea, where another steamer meets 
 and takes us down to Constantinople. (Can you find 
 these places on the map ?) We have begun to find 
 the delays and the irregularities of Eastern travel. 
 Already we have changed our steamer three times as 
 the river became shallower or deeper. Last night 
 we reached Orsova at about dusk, and to our surprise 
 found that the boats did n't travel after dark, so we 
 laid up there till morning. We shall probably reach 
 Constantinople on Wednesday night instead of Tues- 
 day morning, as we were told. I think it very proba< 
 
IN THE BOSPHORUS. 31 
 
 ble that our course may be so slow that I shall give 
 up Egypt and sail right from Jaffa to Greece, but I 
 cannot tell. I don't worry ahead. Italy is before me 
 all the while, and I must get a great deal of time 
 there. I do not care as much for Egypt. I cer- 
 tainly shall not go up the Nile, so tell mother she 
 need not worry about the Pyramids. 
 
 My next letters from home will not reach me till I 
 get to Alexandria or Athens, so I am shut off from 
 communication with home till then, but you will hear 
 from me. I received yours and father's and mother's 
 letters in Vienna, and am glad to hear of all being so 
 well. Keep on writing ; I shall get them some time or 
 other. I believe none have missed me yet, and if you 
 could see how glad I am to get them, you would not 
 mind writing. 
 
 We crossed the Turkish line this morning, so we 
 are in the Sultan's dominions now. Our passports 
 bear his stamp, and we feel already like Turks. How 
 far off it seems ! I shall not have a chance to mail 
 this till we get to Constantinople, and before you get 
 it I shall be in the Holy Land. Think of me there, 
 and be sure that I am thinking of you aU. 
 
 I am perfectly well and ready for anything. Three 
 months next Thursday since I sailed. What a three 
 months they have been. Nine more like them, and 
 then I will come back to work again. May God keep 
 us aU. 
 
 Phill. 
 
 In the Bosphorus, 
 Thursday, November 9, 1865. 
 
 I open this to tell you that with many delays and 
 disappointments we have come thus far. We finished 
 
82 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 our sail on the Danube on Tuesday about noon, and 
 landing at Tchernavoda took tlie railway across the 
 Peninsula to Kustenji. It was funny to find an 
 English-built railway here, with English conductors 
 and engineers in turbans. We had gone about five 
 miles when we came down with a thump, and found 
 that the train had i*un off the track and broken the 
 rails to pieces, so we had to wait there all day till 
 another train could be sent for, and we did not reach 
 the Black Sea till nine o'clock at night. We took 
 ship at once, and yesterday had the most pleasant sail 
 down to the Bosphorus, which we entered just at four 
 o'clock, and sailed as far as this place, whose name I 
 can't find out, about halfway down the Bosphorus, 
 where we were quarantined last night, and this morn- 
 ing are waiting for the fog to clear away to go on to 
 Constantinople, which is only an hour off. Think of 
 that ! This will be mailed from among the minarets, 
 and before to-night I hope to see the Mosque of St. 
 Sophia and look upon the dancing dervishes. 
 
 Before you get this. Thanksgiving will have come 
 and passed. I hope you had a pleasant one. I sup- 
 pose I shall be only just in time if I wish you now a 
 merry Christmas. So I do with all my heart. I shall 
 spend mine in Bethlehem. 
 
 Constantinople, 
 Sunday, November 12. 
 
 There has been no mail before to-night, so I open 
 this again to say we have been three days here in 
 Constantinople. They have been very full of sight- 
 seeing. It is the strangest life to look at, and like 
 a dream every hour. I have seen St. Sophia, the 
 bazaars, the howling dervishes, the dancing dervishes, 
 the Sultan, and much besides, of which I will tell you 
 
SMYRNA. 33 
 
 some otlier time. To-morrow we leave for Smyrna. 
 I received the American papers from our minister 
 here, and shall get your letters when I reach Alex- 
 andria, or Athens, about New Year's. 
 
 I have met here a young Mr. W. S. Appleton of 
 Boston, son of Nathan Appleton, I believe, who joins 
 us in our trip to Syria. He is a good fellow, so with 
 our dragoman and servants we shall make a strong 
 party. Good-by for the third time. Love to all. 
 
 Phill. 
 
 Smyrna, Sunday Afternoon, 
 November 19, 1865. 
 
 Dear Mother, — I will just begin a letter now, 
 though I do not know whence or when I can send it to 
 you. It will seem a little like talking to you to be 
 writing it, at any rate. I am here in Smyrna, and just 
 now especially full of the trip I made yesterday to 
 Ephesus. So I will begin with that. They have a rail- 
 way to within three miles, and we took the train early 
 in the morning to Ayasoluk, a miserable little Turk- 
 ish village, whose only interest is an old ruined castle, 
 and the remains of a mosque which is built on the site 
 of the church where St. John the Evangelist preached, 
 and under which he is said to be buried. We cannot, 
 of course, be sure of it, but it seems by no means un- 
 likely ; and I chose, as I stood there, to believe it true. 
 Then we rode on horseback across a broad plain, 
 where the great city once stood, and where now there 
 is not a trace of life save here and there a poor Turk 
 straggling about in the lazy way of this wretched 
 people. We came finally to a pass between two hills, 
 and here the ruins began. We had only tvv o hours to 
 examine them, and many of the sites are doubtful. The 
 
84 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 great Temple of Diana is altogether gone ; but the 
 one thing most certain of all, about which there can be 
 no doubt, is the theatre where the great meeting was 
 held, in the Book of Acts, and where Paul tried to go 
 in to the people. There it is, a vast amphitheatre in 
 the side of the hill, in ruins of course, but as clearly 
 and evidently the theatre as it was the day he saw it. 
 Then there is the market-place where Demetrius ad- 
 dressed the craftsmen ; and they point out also the 
 School of Tyrannus, where Paul taught. 
 
 They show you also the tomb of Mary Magdalene, 
 but this is uncertain. The theatre is the one certain 
 building which is referred to in the Bible story. 
 Many of the ruins of other buildings, temples, race- 
 courses, gymnasia, etc., are very beautiful, and the 
 situation of the old city must have been charming. 
 Was not this worth seeing? Even coming a good 
 way for ? And now to tell you how we came here. 
 Our steamer left Constantinople last Monday after- 
 noon, sailed down the Sea of Marmora, through the 
 Dardanelles, past the plain of Troy, where you see the 
 whole scene of the old war, and the funeral mounds 
 still standing on the shore, by the islands of Lemnos, 
 Imbros, and Tenedos, keeping inside of them. The sea 
 was very rough, and we were at last obliged to come 
 to anchor in a little bay between Mitylene and the 
 mainland. (St. Paul stopped at Mitylene, you know.) 
 Here we had to stay thirty-six hours, waiting for 
 smoother weather. We went ashore and roamed about, 
 but there was not much to see, — Turks, and their huts 
 and camels and donkeys. 
 
 We sailed on Thursday morning again, and Friday 
 morning landed here at Smyrna. I wish you could 
 see this town ; it is the strangest mixture in the 
 
SMYRNA. 35 
 
 world. Turks, Greeks, and Armenians, in their 
 strange costumes, fill the little dirty streets. The ba- 
 zaars are full of cross-legged merchants praising their 
 wares in all sorts of gibberish : Persian carpets, shawls, 
 slippers, with figs, fruits, and spices, all of the East, 
 Eastern. Every now and then a long caravan of cam- 
 els laden with bales goes winding through, just arrived 
 from Persia, with its wild-looking drivers shouting 
 and screaming to make way for them. This morning, 
 we went to the English chapel, which is at the English 
 consulate, and heard a sermon from the old chaplain 
 who has been here for thirty years. This afternoon, 
 to the Armenian church, where there was a strange 
 sort of service going on in their native language. The 
 strangest services I have seen were those of the howl- 
 ing dervishes and the whirling dervishes in Constan- 
 tinople. They are a kind of order of Mohammedans ; 
 the former make all their worship consist in working 
 themselves up into frenzy by roaring and screaming ; 
 the latter, by whirling round and round their church 
 tiU they are dizzy. I saw both, and shall never see 
 anything more curious in the way of religious service. 
 In Constantinople, I went all over the great Mosque 
 of St. Sophia, the greatest of mosques, originally built 
 for a Christian church, and still having many crosses 
 and other Christian symbols uneffaced upon its walls. 
 It is very curious and impressive, and very sacred 
 among the Mohammedans. Here, and in all their 
 sacred buildings, you have to take off your shoes and 
 enter in stocking-feet. 
 
 We live oddly here. Our fare everywhere is a mix- 
 ture of French and Turkish diet, and as unlike home 
 as you can conceive. On board boat we rise about 
 eight, and find a cup of coffee waiting in the cabin. 
 
36 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 That is all till ten, when we have a full meal, fish, 
 meat, pastiy, fruit, and wine. Then at five or six a 
 dinner of about the same, and in the evening tea, so 
 you see we do not suffer. Traveling here in the East 
 is very slow and very expensive ; but now that I am 
 here, I had better do it thoroughly, and it is all inter- 
 esting. We were two days behind time in reaching 
 this place, and shall be slow in getting to Beyrout. 
 The ^gean is the most uncertain sea in the world, 
 but I shall certainly spend Christmas at Betlilehem, 
 and Thanksgiving probably at Damascus. I am quite 
 well off for company with Dr. Leeds and Mr. Apple ton, 
 who joined us at Constantinople. I am perfectly well 
 and am having a splendid time. 
 
 On Board Steamer Godavert, 
 Monday, November 20. 
 
 We came aboard the steamer this morning to sail 
 for Beyrout. She is a French steamer just arrived 
 from Marseilles, and going to Alexandria. I wish 
 you could see this bay of Smyrna, this lovely morning. 
 Everything is as perfect as a picture, and the air on 
 deck is like the softest summer. We shall be four or 
 five days on board, if all goes well, and I look forward 
 to it with much enjoyment. This morning, as we 
 sat at breakfast, you would have liked to see a big 
 mulatto come in and be greeted by the captain and 
 officers with immense respect as " Pasha," and take 
 his seat alongside of my friend Dr. Leeds, and eat his 
 breakfast with us in the most composed and matter- 
 of-course way. I wondered what they would have said 
 to it in Philadelphia ? 
 
ON BOARD STEAMER GOD AVERY. 37 
 
 Wednesday, November 22. 
 
 We are still pushing along towards Bey rout. The 
 weather so far has been delightful, and the sea not at 
 all rough. The scenery is perfect, as we go winding 
 along among the many islands, every one of them a 
 place of some old associations, the most interesting 
 we have seen, but I was sorry to pass by Patmos (where 
 St. John was banished and wrote the Revelation) in 
 the night, so that we saw nothing of it. Yesterday we 
 stopped two hours at Rhodes, but the quarantine is in 
 force there at present and we were not allowed to land. 
 Just enough cholera remains hanging about these 
 parts to keep the quarantine alive, and that is the 
 only danger from it now. I hear there is a ten days' 
 quarantine in Greece, which will seriously inconve- 
 nience me if I go there. The fear seems to be that 
 the cholera will just linger along through the winter, 
 and then break out with more violence next summer. 
 However, I am in no danger now, nor shall be while I 
 am in the East. 
 
 Thursday, November 23. 
 
 Here we are, laid by for a day to discharge and re- 
 ceive cargo at Messina, which you will find ahnost at 
 the very northeast corner of the Levant. The place, 
 which we can see plainly from the ship, is a little 
 straggling village with its mosque. Lines of camels 
 are continually winding in and out, carrying back into 
 the interior the goods we bring. The only interest of 
 the country is, that just behind those hills there lies 
 the old town of Tarsus, where St. Paul was bom, and 
 where there still stands an old church, which they say 
 he built. We have no time to go there, and must be 
 content to know just where it lies. In the distance the 
 
38 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 Taurus Mountains, covered with snow, are very grand. 
 The weather is superb, as soft as June. Last night 
 was the most gorgeous starlight I ever saw. 
 
 Saturday, November 25. 
 
 I must finish this letter now, for to-night we shall 
 be at Beyrout, and I must mail it. AU day yesterday 
 we were lying in front of Alexandretta (Iskanderoon), 
 the port of Aleppo, where we discharged part of our 
 cargo and took on board a lot of cotton. We went 
 ashore and wandered about the picturesque and dirty 
 little Turkish town. It had a quaint old bazaar, as 
 all these places have, where the business of the place 
 is carried on. Palm-trees, camels, and women muffled 
 in white with only the eyes looking out, and aU soHs 
 of odd male costumes, made it a very Eastern pic- 
 ture. The day was oppressively hot, like August in 
 Boston. 
 
 We sailed at night, and arrived early this morning 
 at Latakia, a pretty little town among the trees, with 
 mosques and minarets and an old castle. Here we 
 only stayed two hours, and then started again for Bey- 
 rout. We stopped once more at Tripolis. At Bey- 
 rout our voyage ends. There we shall get a drago- 
 man and horses, and ride down the coast to Sidon and 
 Tyre ; then by the moimtains up northeast to Baalbec ; 
 from there to Lebanon and the Cedars ; then down to 
 Damascus ; thence across to the Lake of Galilee and 
 Tiberias, to Nazareth, to Mt. Carmel on the coast; 
 from there to Samaria, and thence down to Jerusalem. 
 That is our route now, but it may be altered. Does n't 
 it soimd interesting? It wiU take in all about three 
 weeks, and I will write again from Jerusalem. Now 
 good-by. I am very well, and think much of you aU. 
 
DAMASCUS. 39 
 
 God bless and keep you all, and bring us together 
 again. Love to all. Your loving son, 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Grand Hotel de Damas, 
 Sunday Evening, December 3, 1865. 
 
 Dear Father, — Here I am in Damascus. I 
 have reached the most easterly point of all my 
 travels. I am in the oldest city of the world, and 
 will write you how I reached here and what it 
 looks like. My last, which I suppose was sent from 
 Beyrout, was written on the steamer from Smyrna. 
 We landed at Beyrout a week ago to-day, and went 
 to church in the morning at the American mission, 
 and in the afternoon at the English consulate. We 
 had a host of dragomans about us, and selecting 
 one, we set him at work to make his preparations 
 for our long Syrian journey. We engage him to 
 take us to Jaffa, paying all charges at an expense 
 of five pounds ten shillings per day for the party. 
 Monday we spent in making our arrangements, trying 
 horses, getting our contract with the dragoman cer- 
 tified before the American consul, etc., etc. 
 
 Tuesday morning early our party might have been 
 jjeen mounting and making ready for departure at the 
 door of the Hotel de I'Orient, surrounded by a great 
 crowd of curious natives. Let me tell you of what our 
 caravan consists. Remember, we are to travel thirty 
 days or more, dependent almost wholly upon what we 
 carry with us. First, of the animals : there are six 
 horses, six mules, and two donkeys. The six horses 
 are ridden by Dr. Leeds, Mr. Appleton, and Francois 
 his French courier ; by P. B., and Ibrahim Amatury, 
 our native dragoman, an invaluable person, who 
 
40 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 speaks many languages and does all sorts of things ; 
 and Achmet, the muleteer, who owns the horses and 
 goes with us to look after their welfare. Scattered 
 about among the animals come our other attendants, 
 namely, Antonio, the cook, a native of Bagdad, and 
 Luin his waiter, Ibrahim, Luttuf, a boy from Damas- 
 cus who sings Arabic love songs, Hoseim, and Elias, 
 these last four, mule drivers and general servants. 
 So our whole corps, you see, is twelve. Our baggage 
 always starts off first, and we follow in an hour or 
 two. Then we stop to lunch at midday, and let them 
 get ahead again, and arrive at our camping-place for 
 the night to find the tents all pitched and dinner 
 ready. Our horses are good. I am mounted on a 
 bay horse (not quite as big as Robin), which 
 would n't make much show on the Mill Dam, but has 
 stood it splendidly, so far, over these hard roads. 
 
 We left Beyrout early this morning on the road 
 which a French company have built all the way to 
 Damascus. We kept this road all day. We wound 
 up Mt. Lebanon by slow degrees, through olive groves 
 and mulberry-trees, with the snowy summits of the 
 highest peaks looking down upon us, passing several 
 monasteries, which swarm all along these hills. At 
 noon we made our first halt, and lunched at the 
 Khan Sheik Mahmoud, a rude sort of lodging-place 
 halfway up. About three in the afternoon, we 
 reached the top of the range, and began to descend 
 into the valley between Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon, 
 called, of old, Coele-Syria. Here Mt. Hermon first 
 loomed in sight, with its great round snow-covered top 
 off to the southeast. At the foot of Lebanon we came 
 to the little village of Mecseh, just outside of which we 
 pitched our first camp and spent the night. We were 
 
BAALBEC. 41 
 
 a very picturesque group, I assure you, by our night 
 fire, with our Syrians in their striking costumes and 
 the wild mountain rising behind us. We have two 
 large tents : Dr. Leeds, Appleton, and I sleep in 
 one, and the rest of the company in the other. We 
 live well, our cook is firstrate, and provisions are 
 plenty. The middle of the day is intensely warm, 
 the nights very cold, but the weather so far splendidly 
 clear. 
 
 Wednesday morning we were off again early, and 
 leaving the French road soon struck off through the 
 town of Zahleh, and so along up the valley towards 
 Baalbec. We stopped a few minutes at a little vil- 
 lage to see what they call " Noah's Tomb," which is 
 a queer thing in a long house ; a kind of gi*ave, about 
 fifty yards long, in which they say the patriarch was 
 buried. He must have been about as long as St. Paul's 
 church. It is a sacred place and covered all over with 
 offerings. We stopped this day to lunch by an old 
 mill on the river Litany, and then, after a long, hot 
 afternoon ride, about five o'clock we saw before us 
 the ruins of Baalbec. We galloped in, pitched our 
 tents in the great court of the Temple of the Sun, and 
 ate our dinner in sight of the grand remains. I can- 
 not describe to you the splendor of the moonlight that 
 night, as we roamed about and saw the Temple of the 
 Sun, with its enormous columns, and the Temple of 
 Jupiter close by it, both in ruins, but both sublime. 
 We slept well in the old temple court. Our guides 
 told us of a jackal prowling around at night, but I 
 cannot boast of having seen him. I wish I had. 
 Right opposite we saw the snowy hills on which the 
 Lebanon cedars grew, but had no time to visit them. 
 
 Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, we thought much of 
 
42 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 America and home. We spent the forenoon in care- 
 fully going over the ruins, which are immense and 
 very beautiful. At noon we took horses, and now 
 began, striking for Damascus, to cross the Anti- 
 Lebanon range. We lunched under a fine old walnut- 
 tree, two houi-s from Baalbec, in the midst of a hot 
 and stony plain. Then crossing another ridge, on the 
 top of which we saw the mosque which contains the 
 tomb of Seth, the son of Adam, we came by a steep, 
 zigzag Roman road into the loveliest little green valley, 
 up which we rode to the town of Sigaya, where we 
 encamped that night, and while our Thanksgiving 
 dinner was getting ready roamed about the little 
 town, to the great wonder and bewilderment of the 
 people, who came about us in crowds. These Syrian 
 villages are the most miserable places on earth. 
 As soon as you enter one, the children turn out at 
 your heels, crying, " Backsheesh," and the squalid, half- 
 dressed men and women creep to the doors and gaze 
 vacantly at you. The houses are of mud and stones, 
 one story high, so that you see the tops of the houses 
 as you ride, with sometimes a Moslem on them say- 
 ing his prayers towards Mecca, or a lazy group cook- 
 ing themselves in the sun. Our Thanksgiving dinner 
 was a great success. We had brought a turkey es- 
 pecially from Beyrout, and a choice bottle of wine. 
 Antoine made us a superb plum pudding, we drank 
 everybody's health at home, and were supremely par 
 triotic. Then we smoked our pipes and went to bed, 
 and I for one dreamed I was in America. 
 
 Friday morning early, off again up the vaUey of 
 Sigaya, past several little villages, over hot stones, tiU 
 we lunched by a heap of rocks in an open field, the 
 only shade for miles and miles. Then in the after- 
 
DAMASCUS. 43 
 
 noon we began to get into a deep gorge, and soon 
 came to a fine waterfall, and so felt we were getting 
 somewhere near Damascus, because this was the river 
 Barada, formerly the Abana. (" Are not Abana and 
 Pharphar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the 
 waters of Israel ? ") 
 
 We kept along this stream, passed the old town of 
 Abila, the scenery growing finer and finer all the 
 afternoon. On a hilltop close by we saw the old tomb 
 of Abel, the son of Adam, and so about dusk came to 
 the beautiful fountain of El Fijeh, where we camped. 
 It is a spring gushing out of the rock, over which stand 
 two ruined temples, surrounded by deep groves. It is 
 one of the sources of the Abana. We slept here, and 
 the next morning left early, crossed the last range of 
 Anti-Lebanon, and, as we climbed the final peak and 
 stood beside a little ruined dome upon its top, there 
 was Damascus in the valley, with its beauty all about 
 it. No city ever looked so lovely ; a broad girdle of 
 gardens encircles it, and its domes and minarets fill 
 up the picture within, while the Abana on one side 
 and the Pharphar on the other come bringing their 
 tribute of waters to it. We were soon down the hill, 
 and a quick trot carried us through the gardens, thick 
 with pomegranates, oranges, and citrons, into the town 
 itseK, where for a day or two we exchanged tent life 
 for that at the Grand Hotel. 
 
 Now about the town. This is the most picturesque 
 of Oriental cities, where you see nothing but Orien- 
 tals, no Frank hat but your own ; where Bedouins 
 fresh from the desert crowd you in the streets ; 
 where you sit in the court-yard of your hotel, hear 
 the fountain splashing in the centre, and see the 
 orange-trees around it: where the promenade is on 
 
44 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 the house-top, and the narrow streets are full of dogs, 
 donkeys, and camels. It is a delightful town ; and 
 then its history ! Here is the street called " Straight," 
 where Judas lived, keeping its old name (see Acts 
 ix). They show you the house of Judas, where Paul 
 lodged, and the house of Ananias. On the wall you 
 see the place where Paul was let down in the basket, 
 and even the place of his conversion is kept by a 
 tradition ; nay, more, the old house of Naaman the 
 Syrian is shown, with a hospital for lepers close by it. 
 The poor creatures came and begged alms of us as we 
 were looking. And the old mosque which was once 
 a Christian church is said to have been, further back, 
 the " House of Rimmon " of the old Testament. At 
 any rate here is the old town, and all these things 
 were here, and the life in this old stagnant East is 
 just about the same to-day that it was then. 
 
 This morning I went to the Greek church and saw 
 a miserable mummery. This was my only church- 
 going. There are not enough English here to keep 
 up an English service. The English consul, Mr. 
 Rogers, called on us last night, and says he is almost 
 alone here. 
 
 You will wonder why I have written you all this. 
 The truth is, I have written partly for myself. I don't 
 dare to hope that it will all interest you, but I want 
 to keep a pretty full account of this Syrian trip, and 
 so put it down day by day. Please keep my letters. 
 To-morrow we leave for Csesarea and Tyre. You will 
 see our route is somewhat changed since I wrote to 
 mother. I hope to get letters from you all at Jeru- 
 salem at Christmas. I am perfectly well, with good 
 spirits and lots of appetite, but sometimes I think 
 how good it will be to get home again and think this 
 
SYRIA. 45 
 
 over. I wonder how you all do, and I pray you are 
 well. Good-by; I don't know when you will get 
 this, probably not till after New Year's, when I shall 
 be in Egypt or in Greece. I am thirty years old 
 next week. God bless and keep you all. 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 In Tent at Rascheya, Syria, 
 Tuesday, December 5, 1865. 
 
 Dear William, — I wrote to father from Damas- 
 cus on Sunday, and I will continue my plan of a jour- 
 nal while I am in Syria. I want you to keep the 
 letters, for they will be all that I shall have to recall 
 the details of my route. Let 's see, then. Monday 
 morning, early, we went out with the janizary of the 
 British consul, who was kindly loaned for the occasion, 
 and went over the great mosque. Except for its his- 
 tory, there is not much of interest about it, but it is 
 curious here, as in St. Sophia and elsewhere, to see 
 how in changing a Christian church to Moslem pur- 
 poses they have left ever so many Christian emblems 
 uneffaced ; the communion cup is still upon the bronze 
 doors, and the outside has a walled up doorway with 
 the inscription, " Thy Kingdom, O Christ, is an ever- 
 lasting Kingdom, and thy Dominion endureth from 
 generation to generation." After the mosque, we 
 roamed about the bazaars, especially a dim little pic- 
 turesque hole where the silversmiths of Damascus do 
 their beautiful work. 
 
 At two o'clock we were on horseback again, and rid- 
 ing out on the French road, through the gardens that 
 girdle the city, along the sparkling Abana. We said 
 good-by to Damascus, and encamped for the night at 
 Dinas, a little village about twelve miles off in the 
 
46 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 Anti-Lebanon mountains. The night was very cold, 
 and early this morning we were off, and have ridden 
 eight hours to-day, still over the Anti-Lebanon. We 
 passed an old castle and temple in ruins about noon, 
 perhaps one of the old Baal temples which abounded 
 in this region of Hermon. Then we stopped and 
 lunched under a little group of trees by the wayside, 
 and at last, after a hard day's ride, came to our camp- 
 groimd. It is a larger village than usual, but very 
 forlorn. There is an old castle on the hill, to which 
 we wandered before dinner and saw its Turkish gar- 
 rison. This was one of the towns where the massacre 
 of the Christians by the Druses was most terrible in 
 1860, and much of it is still in ruins. But the most 
 interesting thing of all is Mt. Hermon. There it lies 
 to-night above the town, with its broad top covered 
 with snow, — a splendid old hiU, the northern limit of 
 Palestine. We have had it in sight from time to time 
 for a week, and here we are close to its feet, and, sit- 
 ting among our Syrians roimd our fire, we fancy we 
 can see the old Israelites doing " their idolatry on this 
 one of the high places," where the old altar still 
 stands. Here, just now, came the commander of cav- 
 alry from the pasha of the town, to offer the Franks 
 his prof oimd regards and any help they wanted. You 
 should have heard the palaver that went on between 
 us with our good Ibrahim for interpreter. 
 
 Camp at C^sarba Phiuppi, 
 Thursday Evening, December 7. 
 
 Here we are, encamped in a grove of old olive- 
 trees close to Banyas, which is on the site of the old 
 Caesarea Philippi on one of the southern spurs of Mt. 
 Hermon, and close to the source of the Jordan. Yes- 
 
C^SAREA PHILIPPI. 47 
 
 terday morning we broke up camp at Rascheya, and 
 started across the Anti-Lebanon mountains to visit the 
 great gorge and natural bridge of the Litany. It was 
 a terrible day's ride. We were in the saddle ten 
 hours, over the most abominable road. We reached 
 the gorge about three o'clock, and were well repaid. 
 The river is very fine, and the great chasm through 
 which it breaks its way is bold and picturesque. We 
 then went to Hasbeya, whither our mules had pre- 
 ceded us by a shorter route, and where we arrived 
 after dark. This morning we rode from there over 
 rough hills, till at last we came out into the Jordan 
 valley, and saw far off before us the waters of Lake 
 Merom, through which the Jordan flows. It was a 
 pleasant ride then around the spur of Mt. Hermon, 
 which we are getting to know like an old friend, over 
 fields full of the crocus, or, as our dragoman called 
 it, " the lily of the field," which was very beautiful, 
 and neither sowing nor spinning, tiU we came in sight 
 of the great castle on the hiU and soon rode into this 
 little village. 
 
 Here we lunched, drinking the Jordan water, and 
 then spent^the afternoon in wandering about where 
 the sacred river bursts out of a deep cave on which 
 was built first the Temple of Baal, then of the Greek 
 god Pan, then of the Roman Caesar, and now there 
 stands there a little white Mohammedan mosque. 
 The whole scene is very beautiful. The Jordan runs 
 in many streams among the ruins, and is overgrown 
 with laurels and olives. The present village is mis- 
 erably mean. Its inhabitants are Mohammedans, and 
 in the mountains around are the wild Bedouins. This 
 is the first night we have kept watch. This, you know, 
 is the place where Christ had the conversation with 
 
48 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 St. Peter, and many put the Transfiguration on some 
 one of the spurs of Hermon which surround us. This 
 is the first spot that we have touched where Christ 
 himself has been, and it is full of interest. Our 
 weather is still perfect, and to-night soft and warm, 
 with gorgeous starlight. An English gentleman and 
 his sister, going from Jerusalem to Damascus, are 
 encamped close to us. 
 
 Tybe, Sunday Afternoon, 
 December 10, 1865. 
 
 Please get your Bible and read Ezekiel's Prophecy, 
 and then imagine me set down among the ruins of 
 this old Queen of the Seas. Friday morning we left 
 Banyas and rode across the plain of Huleh or Merom. 
 Here we stopped and saw another of the fountains of 
 the Jordan at Laish or Dan. You will find all about 
 it in Judges xviii. It is a beautiful spot, a little hill 
 with springs bursting out all around its roots, and 
 running in many channels down the fertile plain 
 towards Lake Merom. Now we have reached the 
 northern border, and may look over into Palestine 
 from Dan towards Beersheba. Out of the plain we 
 struck again into the mountains, and lunched by a 
 picturesque little bridge over the Litany, under the 
 shadow of a splendid great Phoenician castle, famous 
 in Crusaders' history, which overlooks all the country 
 from a lofty hill. We spent that night at the village 
 of Nabatiya. It was our first rainy night, and what 
 with the tent pins giving way and the Syrian floods 
 pouring down through the thin places of our tent 
 roof and the high wind making the sides rattle terri- 
 bly, we had an exciting night of it. Next morning 
 we were off in the rain, striking right for the coast. 
 About noon we saw the sea, and lunched on a hill that 
 
TYRE. 49 
 
 overlooks it, near the little village of Toosa. Then 
 it cleared up, and our afternoon's ride was glorious. 
 We wound down the hill, crossed our old friend the 
 Litany near its mouth, and so saw the last of it, and 
 then kept down the shore with Tyre right before us, 
 reaching it in about three hours. It used to be an 
 island, but Alexander built a causeway out to it, and 
 the water has heaped up the sand on both sides of the 
 isthmus till it is a broad-necked peninsula. It is the 
 most ruined of ruins. An old church, once splendid, 
 in which Origen and Frederick Barbarossa were 
 buried, is the only building they ever pretend to 
 show and that you can hardly make out at all. Every- 
 thing else is gone. 
 
 The seashore is lined with piles of splendid marble 
 and granite columns, worn out of shape by the waters 
 and half sunk in the sand. The place where Hiram 
 lived in magTiificence may have been this poor little 
 house which we have hired to spend Sunday in. It 
 has one big room through which the family of queer- 
 looking people whom we have dispossessed circulate 
 continually, and where we three sleep and eat while 
 our cookery goes on in the yard outside. The whole 
 island is only about three quarters by one half mile, 
 and half of this now is utterly covered with rubbish. 
 But the view is splendid to-day. On one side we look 
 out upon the noble Mediterranean, and feel (at least 
 I do) as if the stretch of waters established some sort 
 of communication with home. On the other side 
 stretches the long coast, with the hills of Lebanon 
 skirting it, and old Hermon with his snowy top, the 
 watch-tower of all this country, glistening in the sun 
 beyond. Just round that point up the coast lies 
 Sidon, the mother -city of this Tyre, and the little 
 
50 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 white mosque on the hill this side of it marks the 
 place of Sarepta, the town where Elijah met the 
 widow. 
 
 All our yesterday's ride was through the coasts of 
 Tyre and Sidon, and any spot our horses passed may 
 have been the scene of Christ's meeting with the Syro- 
 phoenician woman. " What city is like to Tyrus, to the 
 destroyed in the midst of the sea." Being the only 
 Franks in town, we make some little sensation. All 
 day the Star-Spangled Banner has been seen flying in 
 our honor on the house of an old gentleman who acts 
 here as our consular agent for the transaction of no- 
 body knows what business, and this afternoon he sent 
 us word that he would be glad to have us visit him. 
 We went, of course, taking Ibrahim for interpreter, 
 and were soon squatted on a divan around a room 
 whose only other furniture was the rugs on the floor. 
 Narghilehs and coffee were brought, and then we made 
 civil speeches to each other, which were duly translated, 
 and left with lots of salaams and wishes for eternal 
 prosperity. Then our quarters have been besieged all 
 day with natives small and large, male and female, 
 bringing " Antikers," as they caU them, rings, coins, 
 seals, etc., dug up among the ruins, for us to buy at big 
 prices. Fortunately Appleton is a coin collector, and 
 so satisfies them for the party. 
 
 These last two weeks have been like a curious sort 
 of dream; all the old Bible story has seemed so 
 strangely about us, — the great flocks of sheep that 
 we meet everywhere, wandering with their wild shep- 
 herds over the hills ; the lines of loaded camels that go 
 laboring across the horizon ; the sowers in the field 
 scattering their seed, half on the stony ground (it is 
 almost paved with stones), and half among the great 
 
HAIFA, 51 
 
 thorn bushes that grow up every-where ; the little 
 villages, liaK a dozen every day, with the people on 
 the house-tops ; the wild men of the desert, who come 
 suddenly in your way among the hills ; and the fam- 
 ilies with mules and asses, women and children, who 
 seem to have no purpose in their traveling but just to 
 fiU up your picture for you. Far off to the east, 
 from time to time the high hills, the hills of Bashan. 
 (Think of being in the dominions of that old Og 
 whom we have always read of in the Psalter.) Olive- 
 trees, palms, fig-trees and pomegranates, all this, and 
 Lebanon, Damascus, Hermon, Jordan, Cassarea, and 
 Tyre ; it certainly makes a strange two weeks. The 
 next two will be fuller still from here to Jerusalem. 
 You shall hear of it. . . . 
 
 I shall send this from Acre. I hope you will get 
 these Eastern letters. Good-by now. God bless you 
 alL 
 
 Phill. 
 
 Haifa, at the foot of Mt. Carmel, 
 Monday Evening, December 12, 1865. 
 
 Dear Mother, — I sent a letter to William from 
 Tyre, which I hope he received. I wiU carry on my 
 story from there. We left Tyre early yesterday morn- 
 ing, and as we rode out saw the fishermen spreading 
 their nets on the rocks, as the old Prophecy of Eze- 
 kiel, you know, foretells. It was a lovely morning, and 
 the seashore was sparkling in the early light as we 
 came across on to the mainland and struck down the 
 coast. We passed, yesterday, a group of fine old 
 fountains and pieces of moss-grown aqueducts, where 
 the city of old Tyre stood, and a beautiful little 
 spring on a hiU where was once a town called Alexan- 
 
52 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 dros Kyne, or Alexander's Tent. It is said the great 
 conqueror lodged there on his way to besiege Tyre. 
 In the afternoon we climbed over a great white cliff 
 which runs out into the sea and is called the Tyrian 
 Ladder. It is the southern limit of Phoenicia, and 
 below it Palestine begins. Soon after, we came to 
 our camping-place at the little village of Eszib, whose 
 old name was Achzib, which you will find in Judges i. 
 31, and was one of the towns given to Asher, but 
 never captured by them. We camped close by the 
 weU, and aU the evening women were coming for the 
 water, which an old man, sitting on top of the well, 
 drew for them ; the scene was very picturesque, but 
 the town, except for one or two splendid palm-trees 
 and a noble sea coast, is forlorn. 
 
 To-day we have been riding down the coast. The 
 scene is all changed. We are in the plain of Acre, a 
 rich coimtry, the very sight of which lets you under- 
 stand how Asher " dipped his foot in oil " and " his 
 bread was fat, and he yielded royal dainties." AU 
 along the coast are the creeks and bays where he lin- 
 gered when Deborah reproached him with " abiding 
 in his breaches." We rode past golden orange or- 
 chards, and ate the fruit fresh from the tree. About 
 noon we came to Acre, an old city formerly called 
 Ptolemais, whose principal history belongs to the Cru- 
 sades and to Napoleon's time. We went through it ; 
 saw the fortifications and the ruins of an old church, 
 but there was not much to look at. After it, came a 
 long beach of twelve miles, stretching from Acre to 
 where Mt. Carmel runs out its grand promontory into 
 the sea. We crossed this rapidly, and just before we 
 reached Carmel came to the mouth of a swift river, 
 where we sat down under a palm-tree and lunched. 
 
HAIFA. 63 
 
 It was "that ancient river, the river Kishon." It 
 comes up from the plain of Esdraelon and passing 
 through the Carmel Mount runs into the sea near this 
 town of Haifa, which lies at the foot of the hill, and 
 in which our tent is now pitched. The old stream 
 looks strong enough to sweep away another Sisera, 
 but Carmel is what we came here for. There it is 
 with all its " excellency," a long ridge running far out 
 into the sea and back into the rich country, with 
 Sharon on its south and the plain of Acre on its north. 
 There is the place where Elijah and the priests of 
 Baal had their trial, and there is the ridge where his 
 servant went up and looked seven times till he saw 
 the little cloud rising out of that bright Mediterranean, 
 which has not had a cloud on it to-day. All is clear 
 as if we saw the prophet's altar burning. This after- 
 noon we climbed the cliff to where the convent stands 
 overlooking the sea. The Carmelite brothers received 
 us hospitably. They are jolly, comfortable-looking 
 fellows, with brown coarse coats and cowls. In their 
 church they take you down under the high altar and 
 show you the cave where Elijah hid from Jezebel. It 
 is fitted up in their tawdry style with a small chapel. 
 Halfway down the hiU is another, larger cave, called 
 the Cave of the Sons of the Prophets, where it is said 
 Elijah received the chiefs of the people. This is in 
 the hands of the Mohammedans and is fitted up for 
 their worship, so curiously are things mixed up here. 
 But the mountain itself, and its glorious view, is just 
 what it was in Elijah's time, wooded to the top, look- 
 ing out on beauty and richness everywhere. West- 
 ward, over the blue sea, north along the splendid bay 
 of Acre, over the great fertile plain to the Lebanon 
 hiUs in the distance, with Hermon's white head look- 
 
64 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 ing over them, east into Galilee to the hills of Kedesh. 
 Naphtali and the fertile plain of Esdraelon, and south 
 along the beautiful coast over the smooth pasture-land 
 of Sharon, what a place for a prophet, and what a 
 scene for the great trial of his faith ! Below, the 
 Kishon runs through the plain as if it were stiU tell- 
 ing to-night of how he took the prophets of Baal and 
 slew them there. We sleep imder the shadow of Car- 
 mel. I am very tired, and all is still, except the jack- 
 als screaming in the distance. Good-night. I wish I 
 were going to bed in that back room at home. 
 
 Nazaketh, Wednesday Evening, 
 December 13, 1865. 
 
 We are encamped on this my thirtieth birthday in 
 a group of olive-trees just by the fountain of Naza^ 
 reth. We left Haifa early this morning and rode 
 along the base of Carmel for several hours, then 
 struck across the plain, crossing the Kishon by a deep 
 and rapid ford. Soon after we came to the first of 
 the Galilee hills, and climbing it saw Mt. Tabor, 
 the great moimtain of Galilee, before us, and the 
 plain of Esdraelon stretched out between it and 
 Carmel. It was just the landscape which I have 
 always expected in Palestine, — low, round, wooded 
 hills, and rich plains between. Tabor is the finest, 
 most beautifully shaped of the sacred hills, a soft 
 smooth cone with wooded sides and top. We rode 
 on all the afternoon through hills and glens, till 
 about four o'clock, when we came suddenly to the top 
 of a steep hill, and there lay Nazareth below us. It 
 was a strange feeling to ride down through it and 
 look in the people's faces and think how Christ must 
 have been about these streets just like these children, 
 
NAZARETH. 55 
 
 and the Virgin like these women, and to look into 
 the carpenters' shops and see the Nazarenes at their 
 work. The town lies in a sort of gorge, halfway 
 up the side of a pretty steep hill. As soon as our 
 horses were left at the camp, we climbed the " hill on 
 which the city was built," and saw what is perhaps the 
 finest view in Palestine. I thought all the time I 
 was looking at it how often Jesus must have climbed 
 up here and enjoyed it. There were the Lebanon hills 
 and Hermon to the north, Tabor to the east, and a 
 line of low mountains, behind which lie unseen the 
 Sea of Tiberias and the Jordan ; beyond them, the 
 hills of Moab stretching towards the south. On the 
 southern side the noble plain of Esdraelon, the battle- 
 field of Jewish history, with Mt. Gilboa stretching 
 into it, where Saul and Jonathan were killed. Jez- 
 reel lies like a little white speck on the side of Gilboa, 
 and Little Hermon rises up between. On the west, 
 the plain is closed by the long, dark line of Carmel, 
 stretching into the sea, and the sight that His eyes 
 saw farthest off was that line of the Mediterranean 
 over which His power was to spread to the ends of 
 the world. It is a most noble view. The hill is 
 crowned with ruins of the tomb of some old Moslem 
 saint. It is the same hill up which they took Jesus, 
 to cast Him down from the cliff. The scene was 
 very impressive in the evening light. 
 
 When we came down we went to the village foun- 
 tain, where the women of the town were drawing 
 water. Such a clatter and crowd ! Some of them 
 were quite pretty, and the sight was very Oriental, as 
 they walked off with their water-pots upon their 
 heads. The Greeks, b}^ their tradition, put the An- 
 nunciation at this fountain ; the Latins have a grotto 
 
56 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 for it, which they say was Mary's house. This is a 
 good place to keep a birthday, is n't it ? Our tent 
 fire is burning bright, and I shall sit by it a little 
 while and then to bed. 
 
 Tiberias, Thursday Evening, 
 December 14, 1865. 
 
 Our tents are pitched to-night by the Sea of Galilee, 
 in the ruins of the old castle of Tiberias. We spent 
 this forenoon in continuing our survey of Nazareth. 
 First, we went to see the place of the Annunciation. 
 We entered the church of the Franciscan monastery 
 while service was going on. After it was over, a 
 monk took us down under the altar into a cave, fitted 
 up richly for a chapel, under the altar of which is a 
 black marble cross, to mark the place where Mary 
 stood. Opposite it are two stone pillars, between 
 which the angel came. One of them is broken 
 through, so that a piece hangs from the ceiling, and 
 a piece stands up from the floor. They say the Mos- 
 lems tried to break the cave down, and could n't. 
 From this cave a stairway leads up into another, a 
 second room of the house. Over the altar of the 
 Annunciation is a good picture of the scene, and 
 around the cross are ever-burning silver lamps. It is 
 a pretty and impressive spot, and there is no impos- 
 sibility about its being the place. 
 
 We went then to the carpenter's shop of Joseph, 
 and the synagogue where Christ preached. Both are 
 modern churches, and there is nothing interesting 
 about either. Then to the church where the Greeks 
 celebrate the Annunciation. They place it at a foun- 
 tain imder a tawdry old church, and take you down 
 into a cave, where they have their lamps around their 
 
TIBERIAS. 57 
 
 cross, and a well from which a monk draws up water 
 and gives you to drink out of a silver cup. The old 
 church was very prettily full of birds flying about. 
 These are the sights of Nazareth, but its old streets 
 and the view from the hill are its true interest, and 
 those I shall never forget. We said good-by to it, 
 and left it lying among the hills, where Jesus must 
 have looked back upon it the last time He went 
 out. 
 
 A quick ride of five hours brought us here. We 
 lunched at Cana of Galilee, at least at a little village 
 which one legend calls so. There is another claimant 
 to the name which we saw in the distance; either 
 may be the place. Both are so situated that you 
 can picture Jesus and His mother going out from 
 Nazareth to a near town to attend the marriage to 
 which they had been invited. Ours was a forlorn little 
 town, in which we stopped at a wretched church, 
 where a cross-legged master was teaching twenty 
 cross-legged boys to read their Arabic. Against the 
 wall were built in what looked like two fonts, about 
 the size of that in my church. This is said to be the 
 house of the marriage. Then we rode on through a 
 rolling country which Jesus must have often walked, 
 on His way back and forth between Nazareth and the 
 lake. The whole country, every hill and valley, 
 seemed marked with His foot-prints. At last we 
 came to a broad plain with one round hill rising 
 out of it. Here the last great battle of the Crusades 
 was fought, and Saladin finally conquered the 
 Christians. Legend calls the hill " The Hill of the 
 Beatitudes," and says it is where the Sermon on the 
 Mount was preached. Perhaps it is. Opposite is 
 another hill, where they say Christ fed the multitude, 
 
68 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 but that must have been on the other side of the 
 lake. Another ridge climbed, and there was the 
 " Sea of Galilee, which is the Sea of Tiberias." 
 There it lay in the soft afternoon light, blue among 
 the purple hills. There were the waves He walked, 
 the shores where He taught, the mountains where He 
 prayed. With Hermon's white head to the north, 
 with the steep Moab hills coming to its brink on the 
 east, with its low western shore where the old city 
 stood, with Safed " the city set on a hill "off to the 
 northwest, it was a sight not to be forgotten. I 
 have hardly ever enjoyed an hour more than the one 
 we spent in winding down the ridge into Tiberias. 
 The town lies on the lake shore ; it is miserable and 
 dirty. It has a population of wretched Jews, who are 
 rascally-looking creatures in black felt hats, and long 
 elf locks. The women are horribly tattooed with ink. 
 " Every prospect pleases, and only man is vile." So 
 ends a most interesting day. By the way, looking 
 into a house-door at Nazareth, this morning, I saw 
 " two women grinding together at the mill " sitting 
 together on the floor, and working the upper mill- 
 stone round upon the lower by a handle, which they 
 both grasped. 
 
 Our weather is still splendid, and to-night is soft 
 and warm as June. Good-night. 
 
 Tiberias, Friday, December 15, 1865. 
 
 To-day has been a perfect day, cloudless and warm, 
 and we have spent it in seeing this wonderful lake. 
 We were ready early, and our horses were brought out 
 because there was a fresh wind blowing and the timid 
 fishermen would not venture the one boat, which is 
 now the only craft of the lake, upon the water. So 
 
TIBERIAS. 59 
 
 we must ride. We left the old walls of Tiberias be- 
 hind us, and rode northward along the western shore. 
 Tiberias itself is a miserable town, but its walls 
 show that it was once fine, and it was new and at its 
 best in Jesus' day. After crossing one or two ridges, 
 with their intervening valleys, we came out on a 
 plain three miles long and extending back a mile or 
 two, flat and fertile, from the beach. This is the 
 " land of Gennesaret." Just as we entered it from 
 the hills, we came to a little group of twenty or thirty 
 dirty huts with a ruined tower near them. This is 
 Magdala, the native town of Mary Magdalene. The 
 Arabs still call it Medjel. We rode across the plain, 
 through the oleander bushes that skirt the shore, and 
 at its other end came to an old ruined khan, a foun- 
 tain gusliing out under an old fig-tree, and an acre 
 or more covered with old foundations and heaps of 
 stones. Right in the midst was a wretched burial 
 ground, and three poor Bedouins were digging, as we 
 passed, a grave for a body that lay wrapped in its 
 blankets on the ground beside them. This is Caper- 
 naum, the home of Christ after Nazareth rejected 
 Him. " And thou Capernaum." Passing this, we 
 climbed a cliff, and, keeping a narrow road cut in the 
 rock, came by and by to another beach, and beyond 
 it to a snug little cove, just the place for fishing-boats 
 to be drawn up, with nothing on the shore but some 
 old ruined aqueducts, and some reservoirs, one of 
 them now used for a mill. Not a living soul was 
 there. This is Bethsaida, the city of John and 
 James, Peter and Andrew. We kept along then a 
 mile or so farther, and came to another heap of ruins 
 interspersed with miserable huts, and the black tents 
 of Bedouins, who are in temporary occupation. This 
 
60 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD, 
 
 is Chorazin. There are ruins of some fine build- 
 ings here, columns, capitals, etc., but this is probably 
 later than Jesus' time. Here we limched, sitting in 
 the shadow of one of the huts, with the Bedouins gath- 
 ered on its roof, staring at us. They seemed harm- 
 less, but would be bad enough if they had the chance. 
 There were some good faces among them. I noticed 
 especially one sweet - looking little girl, whom it 
 seemed hard to leave in such keeping. These are the 
 cities " wherein many of His mighty works were 
 done," — all ruined and gone. We turned back 
 here ; our dragoman would not let us go farther, for 
 fear of Bedouins. We saw in the distance where 
 the Jordan enters into the lake, and then riding back 
 to Tiberias, made the fisherman take us out to row 
 on the lake. It was strange to see him, as we reached 
 the middle, and the hour of prayer arrived, leave 
 his rudder, and spreading his cloak on the floor of the 
 boat, kneel towards Mecca and with many gestures 
 say his evening prayers. All this on the lake of 
 Gennesaret. But religions are all mixed up here. 
 We had the Tiberias fish for breakfast this morning, 
 but they were so bad we could only taste them. To- 
 morrow we leave the lake, but I shall never forget 
 how it has looked to-day. 
 
 Nazareth, Saturday Evening", 
 December 16, 1865. 
 
 We have returned here to spend Sunday. Our 
 road from Tiberias was different from the one we 
 took in going there, and was arranged to take in Mt. 
 Tabor. It has been a hard day's ride, nine hours and 
 a half on the way. The only point of interest was 
 Tabor. After keeping it in sight aU the forenoon, 
 
NAZARETH. 61 
 
 we reached its foot about twelve o'clock, and climbed 
 it slowly. The ascent is not long, and there is a sort 
 of road, but very rough. You wind up through oak- 
 trees, scattered among the rocks, and about an hour 
 brings you out on the top, where there are the ruins 
 of an old town, and a convent of Greek monks. The 
 view is noble, though not equal to the Nazareth hill. 
 The beautiful plain of Esdraelon stretches to the west, 
 with Carmel closing it in. On the south lies Little 
 Hermon, " the Little Hill of Hermon," with Endor 
 and Nain upon its sides, and the mountains of Gilboa 
 showing their heads beyond. To the west you can 
 just see a bit of the lake, and trace the valley where 
 it lies and where the Jordan runs, with the table-land 
 of Bashan stretching out beyond, and the blue hills of 
 Gilead farther off still. To the northwest there is 
 old Hermon, still with his snow, so that we have the 
 two great mountains associated. " Tabor and Her- 
 mon shall rejoice in Thy name." You know that 
 Tabor has been held to be the mountain of Transfigu- 
 ration. There is no authority for it but tradition, 
 and I for one am well convinced that some one of the 
 ridges of Hermon is far more likely to be the place. 
 But Tabor is very beautiful, and has been always one 
 of the sacred places. We met on the top a poor 
 Abyssinian priest, who had come all the way hither 
 on a pilgrimage, and now clings about here, living on 
 charity. He kissed my hands and called down unintel- 
 ligible blessings when I gave him five piastres. A 
 hard afternoon's ride brought us to our old camping- 
 ground, surrounded by hedges of cactus, among the 
 gnarled old olive-trees beside the fountain of Naza- 
 reth. 
 
 Here we shall rest ourselves and our horses for a 
 
62 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 day in this old town, which with the sea of Galilee has 
 more attraction for me than anything else that I have 
 seen. Next week to Jerusalem. 
 
 I put you in two " lilies of the field " from Mt. 
 Carmel, and two purple oleander blossoms from the 
 " land of Gennesaret," between Magdala and Caper- 
 naum. 
 
 Sunday Evening, December 17, 1865. 
 
 I have had a very pleasant, quiet Sunday here at 
 Nazareth. This morning I went to the Greek church 
 and heard their usual boisterous and disagreeable 
 service. The forenoon we spent in reading and rest- 
 ing. It was warm as summer, the tent curtains wide 
 open, the babble at the fountain all day. This after- 
 noon to the Latin church, where a very impressive 
 mass was performed before the altar of the Annunci- 
 ation. The chanting with an organ (the first I have 
 heard since Vienna) and boys' voices was very fine. 
 A strange group of Bedouins, women, children, and 
 all odd costumes, kneeling on the altar stairs. After 
 service Appleton and I took a walk into the country, 
 and saw what we have seen all along, the shepherds 
 leading (not driving) their flocks and carrying the 
 weak ones in their arms. All day the people have 
 gathered round to look at us. It is touching to hear 
 the poor people tell of how they suffered from the 
 locusts in the spring. They bame in clouds, covering 
 the ground half a foot deep, as large as sparrows ; all 
 the shops and houses were closed for days. Every 
 green thing was eaten up. It sounded like a chapter 
 out of Joel. It is sad, too, to hear them talk of their 
 government. All spirit is gone out of them, and they 
 only wait the inevitable dropping to pieces of the rotten 
 
JENIN. 68 
 
 thing, which all expect. The English missionary here 
 called to see us this afternoon. 
 
 Jenin, Monday Evening, 
 December 18, 1865. 
 
 To-day has been very interesting. We were off 
 bright and early, and left Nazareth behind us among • 
 its hills. Crossing a very bad, rocky rid^e, we came 
 down into the great plain of Esdraelon and crossed its 
 eastern end, between Tabor and Little Hermon, where 
 Deborah and Barak gathered their troops before the 
 battle with Sisera. Keeping part way up Little Her- 
 mon, we came to a forlorn village. The people were 
 a little dirtier and more rascally looking, the hovels 
 a little viler, than any yet. We rode through it up to 
 a large cave in the hillside, some twenty feet deep, 
 with a spring in it and a fig-tree beside it. The 
 village is Endor, and this cave is shown as the place 
 where the witch called up Samuel. Certainly, the 
 town looks as if it had had a crop of witches ever since, 
 and were growing another for the next generation. 
 We left it with the whole population crying out 
 for " backsheesh " and throwing stones at us. Keep- 
 ing along the side of Little Hermon, in about an hour 
 we came to Nain, another wretched collection of some 
 twenty huts, where you could imagine the beautiful 
 scene of the miracle at the gate. Thence around the 
 end of Little Hermon to its southern slope, where we 
 came to Shunem, the scene of the pretty story of the 
 Shunammite woman and Elisha. The village is a lit- 
 tle larger than usual, with more bad smells and dogs. 
 Below it, in the plain, lay the fields where the boy 
 went with his father to see the reapers ; and far off is 
 Carmel, to which the mother rode to fetch the man 
 
64 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 of God. There is a reality about these things here 
 which is very enjoyable. An hour's ride, now across 
 the plain, brought us to the fountain of Jezreel, a 
 spring and great pool of water at the foot of a steep 
 rock. This, you know, was the scene of two great 
 events : first, the destruction of the Midianites by 
 Gideon (here is the very pool of which his soldiers 
 drank or lapped), and the defeat of Saul by the Philis- 
 tines. Here is where his army lay. The Philistines 
 were opposite, at Shunem. Over that ridge of Little 
 Hermon he went the night before the battle to con- 
 sult the witch. Behind us rise the mountains of Gil- 
 boa, in whose high places he was killed, and down the 
 plain towards the Jordan you see the ruins of old 
 Beth-shan, where his body was exposed. We limched 
 by the foimtain, and then rode along the side of the 
 Gilboa range to its western slope, where is Jezreel, 
 the palace of Ahab, the home of Jezebel, the place 
 where her body was thrown out to the dogs. The 
 wretched creatures were prowling about there still, as 
 we passed through. It is a miserable village of huts 
 now, but you look across the plain and see where, 
 after the miracle on Carmel, Elijah ran before Ahab 
 " to the entrance of Jezreel." 
 
 From here we have been keeping all the afternoon 
 along the southern slope of Gilboa to this point. The 
 hills of Samaria have been full in view. Far off 
 across the plain, by Carmel, are dimly seen Taanach 
 and Megiddo, the towns of Deborah's song. The 
 white mosque of Jenin came in sight at fi.Ye o'clock, 
 and here we are in tent again. This place is prettily 
 situated, but has nothing remarkable. It is the old 
 En-gannim of Joshua xxi. 29. The day has been 
 overcast, but no rain ; to-night is clear, and I am very 
 
NABLOUS. 65 
 
 tired. Four months to-day since I landed at Queens- 
 town. I have not forgotten that this is George's 
 birthday. 
 
 Nablous (Shechem), 
 Tuesday Evening, December 19. 
 
 Another very interesting day. The days become 
 more interesting as we approach Jerusalem. We were 
 to go from Galilee to Judea, " and must needs pass 
 through Samaria." Shortly after we left Jenin, crossing 
 a range of hills, we saw, two miles on our left, a small 
 "tell " or hill which is the old Dothan, whence Joseph 
 went to seek his brethren, and where they sold 
 him to the Midianites. We rode on all the morning, 
 over hills and plains, the hills occasionally opening 
 to the east, and letting us see the plain of Sharon 
 and the blue sea beyond. About noon we saw be- 
 fore us the terraced hill of Samaria, and lunched by 
 and by among the olives on its northern side. It is 
 full of the interest of Elisha, and the old Israelite 
 kings, and the visit of Philip in the Acts. I read 
 over 2 Kings vi. and vii. on horseback. The place is 
 full of ruins of the old Roman time, when it was re- 
 built by Herod and called Sebaste. Countless col- 
 umns are scattered around, and some standing. The 
 prophecy seems strangely fulfilled. Some are roUed 
 down the hills, and the husbandmen were ploughing 
 among them, all over the old site. The present vil- 
 lage is miserable ; we rode into it after dinner, and 
 were surrounded by the population like fleas. There 
 is an old church of St. John in whose ruins is now a 
 wretched mosque. A long quarrel and fifteen piastres 
 " backsheesh " gained us admission, and in a little 
 subterranean room, whose walls were covered with 
 defaced crosses, they showed us what they called the 
 
66 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 tomb of John the Baptist. It is a very old tradition. 
 As we rode out of town, we were chased by the chil- 
 dren, with much dirt on them and very little clothes, 
 screaming what Ibrahim told us meant " Ho, Chris- 
 tians ! Ho, Jews ! May the Lord leave not a bit of 
 you." 
 
 The afternoon's ride was lovely. The fields dark 
 green with young wheat and barley, dotted with the 
 light gray green of the olive-trees. And here we are 
 now at Shechem. Before us is Mt. Ebal, behind us 
 is Mt. Gerizim. Here is where Jacob bought " the 
 parcel of ground ; " where the curses and the blessings 
 were pronounced from hiU to hiU across this ampithe- 
 atre, where the town lies and where the Ark stood. 
 Here is where Joshua collected his tribes for his last 
 charge, and more than all, here is where Jesus came 
 and lived two days after his conversation with the wo- 
 man at the well which we shall see to-morrow. The 
 city itself is large and charmingly old and quaint. 
 There are about fifteen hundred Samaritans left, the 
 only remnant of their people. We have been to see 
 their synagogue, a dingy little hole, where a splen- 
 did old priest, in red turban and gray beard, showed 
 us their famous roll of the Pentateuch, which they 
 claim is thirty -two hundred years old, and written 
 by the son of Eleazer, son of Aaron. There is a 
 very fine old mosque too. As we passed through 
 the streets, the smaU boys cursed us and spit at us. 
 Think of that for a free American citizen to stand. 
 Two days more to Jerusalem. To-night we sleep 
 under the shadow of Gerizim. Good-night. It will 
 be good to get your letters by next Thursday. 
 
 Phillips. 
 
JERUSALEM. 67 
 
 Mediterranean Hotel, jERUsAiiEM, 
 Friday Morning, December 22, 1865. 
 
 I add another half sheet, just to say that we are in 
 Jerusalem. We arrived last night about five o'clock, 
 and I am writing now, before breakfast, with my 
 window looking out on the Mount of Olives. I 
 can hardly realize that I am here. Our day's ride 
 yesterday was rocky and tiresome. " The hills stand 
 about Jerusalem " and make the approach slow. The 
 only especially interesting places were Bethel, a poor 
 little village, on a plateau surrounded by hills. 
 There is nothing attractive in the site, and nothing in 
 the town ; but every association makes it interesting. 
 Ramah stood up on our left, a village with an old 
 square tower. In the middle of the afternoon, Neby- 
 Samuel, the old Mizpah, where Samuel is buried, rose 
 high on our right, and just before we saw Jerusalem 
 we crossed the side of a high hiU, which is the old 
 Gibeah of Saul. 
 
 It was about four when we rode up the slope of the 
 hill of Scopus, and got all at once the full sight of 
 Jerusalem. It lies nobly surrounded by its moun- 
 tains, and overlooked on the eastern side by the Mount 
 of Olives, which, though only a hill, is higher than I 
 thought. Between it and the city is the valley of 
 Jehoshaphat. We entered the city on the north by 
 the Damascus gate. The first sound I heard in it 
 was the muezzin on a minaret calling the Moslems to 
 prayers. The interior of the city is like all Eastern 
 towns, filthy, narrow, noisy, and when the novelty is 
 off disgusting, but I am not going to write about the 
 city now. I am here, and there is the Mount of 
 Olives right before me. 
 
 I fear a little of my first enthusiasm on arriving at 
 
68 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 Jerusalem may have been in the prospect of a tem- 
 porary return to some of the hixuries of civilization, a 
 bath, a bed, and a shave. We found them all good at 
 this hotel, and then the letters ! No less than ten, and 
 a half dozen newspapers. I reveled in them all the 
 evening, and rejoiced to hear of you all well. They 
 took me back home for the night. Another glorious 
 day to begin to see Jerusalem. We shall have plenty 
 of time here, for there is no steamer for Alexandria 
 till January 4. And now, again, good-by, and God 
 bless you all always. 
 
 Jebusalem, Saturday Evening, 
 December 23, 1865. 
 
 Dear Father, — This comes from the Holy City. 
 I suppose you have heard by mother's letter of my 
 arrival here, day before yesterday. Two days have 
 been spent now in sight-seeing. Yesterday, the 
 Mount of Olives, Gethsemane, the valley of Jehosh- 
 aphat, and the Brook Kidron, the city walls in the 
 afternoon, the weekly sight of the poor Jews wailing 
 outside the old Temple wall. To-day, the Mosque 
 of Omar, the site of the great Temple, the valley of 
 Hinnom, the pool of Siloam, again the Mount of 
 Olives, the Jews' synagogue, the tombs of Zechariah, 
 the Virgin, St. James, and all the others, and the 
 church of the Holy Sepulchre, which includes within 
 itself the Tomb and Calvary. Are not these names 
 enough? We lodge here on the Via Dolorosa, near 
 what is said to be the top of Calvary. But, ah ! 
 monkery has been so busy manufacturing all sorts 
 of holy sites that one knows not what to believe. 
 Calvary is at the top of a dirty paved street, in a 
 chapel of a gaudy church ; Gethsemane is a flower- 
 
JERUSALEM. 69 
 
 garden witli a liigh wall, redeemed only by eight very 
 old olive-trees ; only tlie great general aspect of the 
 whole, Mount Zion, Mount Moriah, Mount Olivet, 
 and the deep ravines, these are past all doubt and 
 full of inspiration. They have been two rich days. 
 
 Saturday, December 30, 1865. 
 
 My energetic letter-writing has paused for a week. 
 I take it up again to tell you of my tours around 
 Jerusalem. Last Sunday morning we attended 
 service in the English church, and after an early 
 dinner took our horses and rode to Bethlehem. It 
 was only about two hours when we came to the town, 
 situated on an eastern ridge of a range of hills, 
 surrounded by its terraced gardens. It is a good- 
 looking town, better built than any other we have 
 seen in Palestine. The great church of the Nativity 
 is its most prominent object; it is shared by the 
 Greeks, Latins, and Armenians, and each church has 
 a convent attached to it. We were hospitably 
 received in the Greek convent, and furnished with 
 a room. Before dark, we rode out of town to the 
 field where they say the shepherds saw the star. It 
 is a fenced piece of ground with a cave in it (all the 
 Holy Places are caves here), in which, strangely 
 enough, they put the shepherds. The story is absurd, 
 but somewhere in those fields we rode through the 
 shepherds must have been, and in the same fields 
 the story of Euth and Boaz must belong. As we 
 passed, the shepherds were still " keeping watch over 
 their flocks," or leading them home to fold. We re- 
 turned to the convent and waited for the service, 
 which began about ten o'clock and lasted until 
 three (Christmas). It was the old story of a Romish 
 
70 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 service, with all its mummery, and tired us out. 
 They wound up with a wax baby, carried in proces- 
 sion, and at last laid in the traditional manger, in a 
 grotto under the church. The most interesting part 
 was the crowd of pilgrims, with their simple faith 
 and eagerness to share in the ceremonial. We went 
 to bed very tired. 
 
 Christmas morning, we rode up to town and 
 went to service. It rained all that day, and we 
 stayed in the house. The next morning we were off 
 for our trip to the Jordan. Passing out of St. Ste- 
 phen's Gate, we rode past Gethsemane, and around 
 the southern slope of the Mount of Olives, the same 
 road by which Christ made his triumphal entry from 
 Bethany. The point at which He must have first 
 come in view of the city, with the multitude throw- 
 ing the branches under His feet, is very clearly seen, 
 and very interesting. Passing round the hill, in 
 about an hour we came to a little village hid away 
 in a fold of the valley, as quiet and out of the way a 
 place as one can imagine. This is Bethany ; a poor 
 little town now. They show still the tomb of Laza- 
 rus, — a cave, deep and dark and tomb-like. All 
 the afternoon we rode on over the hills. This is 
 a dangerous region, and we had a guard with us, a 
 sheik, and three soldiers from the government of 
 Jerusalem. However, we saw no robbers; plenty 
 of Bedouins, but very harmless. Towards night we 
 came out into the great plain of Jordan, wide, green, 
 and beautiful. We crossed the " Brook Cherith " of 
 Elijah and the ravens, and went to the site of old 
 Jericho, where is the fountain which Elisha changed 
 from bitter to sweet. Then across the plain to the 
 site of the later Jericho, which Christ entered. This 
 
JERUSALEM. 71 
 
 is the old Gilgal. They showed us the house of 
 Zaccheus. We camped here, and after dinner the 
 Bedouin women came and danced their wild dances 
 and sang their wild songs and got their backsheesh. 
 Next morning, we rode down the plain to the river, 
 the Jordan! We came to it just " over against 
 Jericho," where the Israelites may have crossed, and 
 just where tradition says that John preached and 
 Jesus was baptized. The stream was swift and tur- 
 bid; about as wide as the Shawsheen where you 
 cross it going from Mr. Tompkins's to grandmother's. 
 We saw the place where the hosts of pilgrims came 
 to bathe at the Passover. 
 
 From the Jordan we rode an hour and a half 
 to the Dead Sea, and stood on its desolate, dreary 
 shore, and tasted its dreadful water. The view 
 was wild and melancholy, and still appeared full of 
 the story of the old catastrophe. In the after- 
 noon, we rode across the hills toward the Greek con- 
 vent of Mar Saba. The views were splendid. We 
 were in the wilderness of Judea. On our left was 
 the Desert of Engedi, where David fled from Saul. 
 A terrible hail and sleet storm came up and wet 
 us through, and we were glad enough, passing 
 along a splendid ravine, through which the Kidron 
 flows, to find a picturesque old Greek convent, where 
 sixty monks live their miserable, useless life. They 
 were useful for once, however, for they took us in 
 and made us comfortable for the night. I wish you 
 could have seen us among the brethren, disturbing 
 their quiet life with the many wants of tired, wet, 
 and hungry men. The convent was built about the 
 grotto of an old hermit years ago, and is surrounded 
 by the deserted caves where hundreds of hermits used 
 
72 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD, 
 
 to live. Thursday morning, we said good-by to the 
 monks and left them working in their garden, and 
 took up our way toward Hebron. We had to go 
 first to Bethlehem again. We passed a very striking 
 encampment of Bedouins, with their black goat's-hair 
 tents in the valley, and riding through the fields of 
 the shepherds and Ruth, came into the little town. 
 The people, who are very handsome, gathered about 
 us to sell relics. I saw some very beautiful faces in 
 the church among the women, on the night of the 
 service ; they wear a peculiar red robe, and in general 
 seem decidedly superior to the ordinary inhabitants 
 of the country. We went into the church again 
 and saw it more thoroughly. The place of the Na- 
 tivity is in a little grotto like the one at Nazareth. 
 The manger is in an altar opposite. The grottos of 
 St. Jerome and his feUow-anchorites, SS. Eustasia 
 and Paula, are close by. Each of the three convents 
 has a passage-way down to the altar of the Nativity. 
 We rode on from Bethlehem along an old aqueduct, 
 which leads by a beautiful green vaUey, in which 
 Solomon had his gardens and country houses, to the 
 " pools of Solomon," three immense reservoirs, built 
 to supply Jerusalem with water, but now long out 
 of repair and use. He says in Ecclesiastes that he 
 made him " pools of water." From here to Hebron, 
 the oldest city in Palestine, the home of Abraham 
 and the kings, which lies in a broad valley five hours 
 from the pools. What a ride we had to get there. 
 It rained, and rained, and rained. The rocks were 
 slippery, it grew dark, the horses were tired out, and 
 glad enough we were to get to the town and find a 
 little room in a Jew's house (there are no Christians, 
 only Jews and Moslems in the place), and try to get 
 dry and get through the night. 
 
JERUSALEM. 73 
 
 The next morning, the storm was just as bad, or 
 worse, but we started. There is not much to see in 
 Hebron except the place itself, and that we could 
 not see. The cave of Machpelah is in a mosque, 
 where they don't admit Christians, so we looked 
 at the outside. Then we rode by a splendid great 
 oak at Mamre, which they call the oak of Abraham. 
 This is the valley of Eshcol. And then, in rain 
 and cold and discomfort, we struggled back to Jeru- 
 salem, lunched at the pools with some Nubian sol- 
 diers, who are there as guard, passed by the tomb of 
 Rachel, just outside Bethlehem, and reached our hotel 
 at five o'clock, glad enough to be here. This is the 
 sketch of our trip, which we enjoyed in spite of its 
 discomforts. It is about our last. Next Tuesday, we 
 shall leave for Jaffa, to catch the steamer of the 4th 
 for Alexandria. 
 
 And now, what aboiat Jerusalem? I believe I 
 know it thoroughly. I have seen all its sights, 
 have walked about it, and marked the towers thereof, 
 till I understand its shape and spirit pretty well. It 
 is not large, but it is crowded full of interest. 
 Everywhere you get striking views, — Olivet, with the 
 little mosque on its top, the great mosque on Moriah, 
 David's tomb on Mount Zion, the Holy Sepulchre, 
 with its broken dome, on Calvary. You cannot get 
 away from some of them. Do you know that they 
 have the Holy Sepulchre and Calvary all in one 
 church ? You go up a flight of a dozen stairs from 
 one to the other. But I must not attempt to describe 
 Jerusalem. I will tell you all about it when I get 
 home. Our consul here and Bishop Gobat of the 
 English church have been attentive. It is sad to see 
 how Moslem power rules here. The very keys of the 
 Holy Sepulchre are kept by the Mohammedans. 
 
74 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 I need n't say I was delighted to get letters here, 
 and hear that you are all well. I have read them 
 over and over, and now am looking for more at 
 Alexandria, where we hope to arrive on Saturday 
 next. The least items from home, you know, are 
 interesting to us away off here. Tell mother her 
 letters are most welcome. To-morrow is New Year's 
 Day. A happy New Year to all of you ! Good-by, 
 God bless you all. 
 
 jEBUSAiiEM, Monday, January 1, 1866. 
 
 I must wish you all a happy New Year. It is a 
 good way off, but I am sure you all know that I am 
 doing it this morning, and I can almost hear you 
 wishing it back to me. May it be a happy year to all 
 of us. Before it is over, God grant we may be 
 together again safe. Two more days in Jerusalem! 
 Saturday, I went out to see the old cave tombs, which 
 are all about the city, the tombs of the Judges and 
 those of the Kings. Yesterday, I went to the 
 English church in the morning, and heard Bishop 
 Gobat. In the afternoon, a lovely bright sunny day, 
 I walked out to Bethany and back ; over the summit 
 of Mt. Olivet, the way that David went when he fled 
 from Absalom, back around the southern ridge of the 
 hill where Christ came in on his triumphal entry. It 
 was a delightful walk. 
 
 Appleton received a bundle of Boston Advertisers 
 yesterday afternoon, which were very refreshing. 
 They told us all about the elections, etc. 
 
 TeU mother I put in this letter for her the head of 
 a reed which was " shaken by the wind " on the brink 
 of the Jordan, and two flowers which I picked in 
 Gethsemane. 
 
JAFFA. 75 
 
 Jaffa, Wednesday Evening, January 3, 1866. 
 
 So far westward. Yesterday morning we left 
 Jerusalem, seeing our last where we saw our first of 
 it, from Mt. Scopus. Then we rode to the hill of 
 Nebi-Samwil, the ancient Mizpah, where Samuel is 
 buried. There is a splendid view from the top ; an 
 old minaret crowns it. Down thence through Gibeon 
 and Beth-horon and the valley of Ajalon, where 
 Joshua's gTeat battle came to pass, and the sun and 
 moon stood still. The ride was over hill and valley, 
 very interesting. Late in the afternoon, we came 
 down into the great coast plain of Philistia, and 
 passed through Lud, the Lydda of the Acts, an old 
 town with the remains of a fine church. Another 
 half hour brought us to Ramleh, where we camped 
 last night. It is a place famous in Crusaders' history. 
 From there, a three-hours' ride brought us here to-day, 
 with no accidents, except my horse's tumbling into 
 a ditch and muddying me from top to toe. Jaffa is 
 the old Joppa, and we went to see the house of Simon 
 the tanner, "by the seaside," where Peter lodged. It 
 is a pretty likely-looking sort of place for a tanner. 
 Mr. Kayat, the British consul, came to see us this 
 afternoon ; we went to see his orange gardens, and ate 
 lots of the ripe fruit off the trees. We are lodged in 
 the Russian convent. Was n't it funny to find our 
 chairs here in our room, rocking-chairs and all, marked 
 " M. L. Gates, 66 Commercial Street, Boston ?" So our 
 Syria is over, and if the steamer is up to time 
 to-morrow, we are off to Alexandria. 
 
 Jaffa, Wednesday, January 10, 1866. 
 Here we are still, after a week of dreary waiting 
 and discontent. The day after we arrived, a storm 
 
76 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 came up and has lasted until to-day, with strong west 
 wind. Not one of the three steamers that ought to 
 have touched here has arrived, and we have no news 
 of either of them. Even if they had come, we could 
 not have got aboard, for the harbor is rough and the 
 sea runs very high. We have lost a week in waiting. 
 We have had all sorts of plans : sometimes, to go by 
 land up to Beyrout, and try to get aboard there; 
 sometimes, to take camels and go across the desert 
 direct to Cairo, but the torrents of rain have hindered 
 our moving. We could not travel now without get- 
 ting swept away with the full streams, so we must 
 wait and wait. , To-day is bright and pleasant, but 
 the high wind still blows on shore and no news of 
 the steamer. 
 
 Steamer Egypto, between Jaffa and Alexandria, 
 Sunday, January 14, 1866. 
 
 We are off at last. Yesterday morning, there 
 came along an Austrian steamer bound for Alex- 
 andria, and as the wind and sea had moderated, we 
 went aboard her and shall be in Alexandria to-night. 
 We have had a very pleasant and smooth passage so 
 far, and are glad to be out of eTaffa, which has nothing 
 to boast of but its oranges. They are splendid, and 
 did n't I eat them I 
 
 Steamer M(eris, January 23, 1866. 
 
 Dear William, — This is one of the times for let- 
 ter-writing. I am on a four days' voyage from Alex- 
 andria to Messina. The first two days the sea was 
 terribly rough, and this French boat, being a screw 
 steamer, rocked horridly, so that it was out of the 
 
EGYPT. 77 
 
 question to think of writing, or anything else, except 
 holding on and not getting washed overboard, or 
 pitched downstairs. They were days when, in the 
 elegant and expressive language of Artemus Ward, 
 it was hard for the passengers " to keep inside their 
 berths or outside their dinners." Still it was the first 
 very bad sea I have had anywhere, and I must not 
 complain. To-day is calm and still, and we are 
 getting on fast towards Sicily. 
 
 On arriving at Alexandria, after our long imprison- 
 ment at Jaffa, I found a host of letters, and received 
 some more the day I left. You may guess they were 
 welcome. The latest was yours of Christmas Day, 
 and none better deserves an answer. I will tell you 
 in a few minutes about what I saw in Egypt. My 
 stay in Egypt was short. Alexandria was the mean- 
 est place I have seen yet. Enterprising, busy, but 
 perfectly unattractive. Too Western to be good 
 Eastern, and too Eastern to be good Western ; too old 
 to be good new, and too new to be good old. A bad 
 mixture. Cleopatra's Needle is an obelisk in a cow- 
 yard. Pompey's Pillar is an old column on a hill 
 overlooking lake Mareotis. It has nothing in the 
 world to do with Pompey, and is principally interest- 
 ing from some American sailors flying a kite over it 
 once, as recorded in the pages of the American First 
 Class Book. But if Alexandria is detestable, Cairo 
 is delightful. I could write pages, yea, a book, about 
 the dear old place, with its bazaars, mosques, gardens, 
 palm forests, palaces, donkeys and donkey-boys, its 
 great old river, and its Pyramids. But I won't. Let 
 it be enough that one morning I straddled a diminu- 
 tive long-eared creature, about as big as the family 
 rocking-horse, with a jbrpwn, bare-legged boy running 
 
78 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 behind, poking the donkey and screaming at him all 
 the way ; I rode through Cairo, was ferried over the 
 dreamy old Nile, and then rode across its gorgeous 
 green valley, climbed to the top of the Pyramid of 
 Cheops, and looked out on the Desert. The usual army 
 of wild Arabs dragged me to the top. The ascent is 
 not hard, but they insist on giving you their hand 
 and pulling you up from step to step. The easiest 
 way is to let them do it. All the while they chant 
 a wild stave in the Hiawatha measure, something like 
 
 Good Howadji ! Great Howadji ! 
 Strong Howadji ! Lots of money ! 
 Give us Backsheesh ! Plenty Backsheesh I 
 
 When you get to the top, you do give them as much 
 backsheesh as will stop their tongues and let you enjoy 
 one of the strangest and most memorable views that 
 the world has to show. I sha'n't attempt to describe 
 it. One must get on the top of that Pyramid before 
 he can know anything about it. When I got down, 
 I went and stood in the shadow of the Sphinx, and 
 looked up into her vast stone face. If the Pyramids 
 are great in their way, she is a thousand times greater 
 in hers, as the grandest and most expressive monu- 
 ment of a religion in the world. But I am writing 
 a letter about Egypt, and I did n't intend to. The 
 mosques of Cairo are very attractive, vaster and 
 more gorgeous than any elsewhere, and containing 
 some of the most interesting specimens of old Arab 
 architecture, in which are the germs of a good deal of 
 modern European. Then we went out to visit the 
 viceroy's gardens and palace, and saw something of 
 Egyptian luxury. It was a place that Anthony and 
 Cleopatra might have reveled in. While we were in 
 Cairo, the season of Ramazan, the Mohammedan Lent, 
 
MESSINA. 79 
 
 began. They fast all the daytime, and carry on all 
 
 night. Their worst privation is from tobacco. It is 
 
 terrible to go through the bazaars and see the poor 
 
 old fellows looking so melancholy and cross, holding 
 
 their pipes all ready filled, awaiting sunset to light up. 
 
 The nights of Ramazan are gorgeous with lights and 
 
 feasting. But I positively won't say anything more 
 
 about Egypt. 
 
 Hotel Trinacria, Messina, 
 Tuesday Evening, January 23. 
 
 My letter was cut short this morning by finding 
 how near we were to our port. I went up on deck, 
 and there was the coast of Italy, the sole of the 
 " boot " on one side, and Mt. Etna, with its great 
 white sides and little spire of smoke, upon the other. 
 About one o'clock we arrived here. I had some 
 hopes, in coming here, of meeting the boat for Greece, 
 and making my visit there now. But she passed us 
 going out, about three hours before we came into the 
 harbor. There was no connection from Alexandria to 
 Greece for ten days, so I did not wait there. I shall 
 go to Naples to-morrow, and next week to Rome, where 
 I shall stay till after Carnival, then make a trip to 
 Greece and be back by Holy Week. I am alone again. 
 Dr. Leeds stayed in Egypt, and Mr. Appleton has 
 gone on to Paris. He wiU probably join me to 
 Greece. My whole scene has changed. Italy is all 
 around me. This is a delightful old town, with a 
 quaint old cathedral and square, and pictures of Ital- 
 ian life at every step. I am depending, with aU my 
 heart, on Naples and Rome. 
 
 Tell Mr. John that I expect him to appreciate my 
 brotherly attention in going to the Egyptian post- 
 office, in Cairo, and at an expense of much gesticu- 
 
80 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 lation buying a full set of the new Egyptian postage 
 stamps, which I am told are rare in America. I 
 think they deserve a letter at least. I was glad to hear 
 how Christmas passed with you. Before this you have 
 heard how I passed mine. I saw lots of " Little Wan- 
 derers " in Syria and Egypt, and now Italy seems as 
 full of them as either. 
 
 On board Stbambb II Gouribr di Sicttja, 
 Wednesday P. m., January 24. 
 
 I have been all the morning seeing Messina. It is 
 a delightfully Italian town, lying along the shore, 
 backed by a wilderness of green hills. They have a 
 lovely old cathedral, full of elaborate carvings and 
 mosaics, and the views everywhere of the straits 
 and the hazy Italian shore opposite are beautiful. 
 The great show of the town I have missed. It is an 
 autograph letter which the Virgin Mary sent them 
 onee, with a lock of her hair. She is their special 
 patroness. The priest who had the key of the cathe- 
 dral was out, so I could not see it. Now we are on 
 our way to Naples, just passing between Scylla and 
 Charybdis. We are going through the old peril safely, 
 I think. This little steamer was built at Glasgow 
 in Scotland. We are leaving Sicily and Messina be- 
 hind us. Messina, you know, is the town of " Much 
 Ado about Nothing." There Benedict and Beatrice 
 courted, and walking out last evening I saw honest 
 Dogberry " comprehend a vagrom man " in the 
 streets. 
 
 HOTBIi VlTTORIA, NAPLES, 
 
 Sunday, January 28. 
 
 Three days, now, in this most beautiful spot on 
 earth. No one can wonder at people's enthusiasm about 
 
NAPLES. 81 
 
 Naples. I have seen some things in my travels which 
 were not up to the mark, but of the beauty of Naples 
 and its bay, the half has not been told, simply because 
 it can't be. As I look out of my window now, I can 
 see the blue bay, with Capri lying off in front, the 
 promontory of Baiae, and Puteoli stretching its arm 
 around it, the green hills covered with olive groves 
 and vineyards shutting in the land side, and the bright 
 gardens of the Villa Reale, with their fountains, stat- 
 ues, and gay promenaders, lying in the foreground; 
 the whole in a climate such as we have in our best 
 June days, and an atmosphere such as we never have. 
 I have seen something about Naples. One day to 
 Puteoli, where is a very perfect old amphitheatre, 
 and where Paul landed to go up to Rome ; to Baise 
 and Cunise, Virgil's Elysian Fields, Lake Avernus 
 and Sibyl's Cave, up as far as Cape Misenum. An- 
 other day down the coast to Salerno, thence to Psestum, 
 where are the most perfectly preserved Greek temples 
 in the world. That is one of the greatest things to 
 see in Italy. The road there is very beautiful, a little 
 given to banditti, so that we had to take a guard of 
 soldiers. We had no adventure, and got home safe. 
 The two greatest wonders of Naples I have yet to see, 
 Pompeii and Vesuvius. The mountain, which is not 
 vast or grand, but simply beautiful, overlooks you 
 everywhere you go, but I have not yet seen even a 
 whiff of smoke out of his great pipe. Etna is a much 
 more splendid mountain, and so is Stromboli, which we 
 passed the other day coming up from Messina. You 
 see Italy is beginning with even more fascination than 
 anything yet, and my next three months are going to 
 be very full. I am afraid my letters will not be quite 
 so long now. I shall have no more sea voyages to 
 
82 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 write in, and shall have employments for my evenings 
 out of doors. I will try my best, and you must allow 
 I have done splendidly for the last three months. 
 For the present, this is all. I am very well, and in 
 first-rate condition every way. Shall probably go up 
 to Rome next Saturday. I hope to get some more let- 
 ters there. Good-by ; give love to all, and don't for- 
 get your affectionate brother, who expects to get home 
 in September. Phillips. 
 
 Rome, Sunday, February 4, 1866. 
 
 Dear Mother, — In Rome at last, at the place of 
 all others in Europe that I have most wished to reach. 
 I got here last night about seven o'clock, and this 
 morning before breakfast went down the Corso to the 
 Capitol, and through the Forum to the Coliseum. It 
 is exactly as I have always pictured it, only a great 
 deal more interesting. This is really all I have seen 
 of the city yet. I went to service at the American 
 embassy this morning, and found the place crowded 
 with Americans, lots of people that I knew. 
 
 Since my letter went to William I have been having 
 a great time in Naples, seeing everything in that most 
 beautiful of cities. One long day I spent at Pompeii, 
 which is most wonderful, with its old streets and 
 houses, uncovered just as they were left the day that 
 the great eruption came and buried them. Then I 
 went up Vesuvius, and saw where the eruption came 
 from, ventured down into the crater, which is very 
 grand, and stood on the hot ground, where another 
 eruption is cooking, to burst out by and by. Another 
 day I went down to Sorrento along the shores of the 
 bay, spent a night there, and then crossed over to 
 Capri, the beautiful island where the old Roman em- 
 
ROME. 83 
 
 perors had their palaces and lived their horrible lives. 
 I spent a day at the great museum of Naples, where 
 all the statues and other antiquities from Pompeii and 
 Herculaneum, and the other ruins in that neighbor- 
 hood, have been collected into the most enormous 
 repository in the world. It is very rich and very beau- 
 tiful. On the whole, Naples has delighted me, and 
 I put it along with Edinburgh, Constantinople, and 
 Damascus as one of the four great cities of the world 
 in beauty. There is a railway from there here, taking 
 about seven hours. 
 
 Thursday Evening, February 8. 
 
 I have been very busy all the week, and now am so 
 sleepy I can hardly keep my eyes open, but I will send 
 this off to let you know that I am well and enjoying 
 every moment. Rome is so much greater and fuller 
 than I had ever dreamed of. I have seen a great deal, 
 but when I think what there is right about me, it 
 seems as if I had seen nothing ; I have wandered all 
 through St. Peter's, spent a long day in the wilderness 
 of the Vatican, another in the great museums of the 
 Capitol, and followed the banks of the Tiber, skirted 
 with ruins of the old temples, palaces, and theatres of 
 this wonderful race, roamed through some of the pic- 
 ture galleries of the great palaces, found my way into 
 a few of the numberless gorgeous churches, and to-day 
 have been from one to another of the studios of our 
 own living artists. All this has swallowed up many 
 hours. 
 
 Then the Carnival is in full rage, and every after- 
 noon it is hard to keep away from the Corso, where 
 every old gray palace is hung with bright red, and the 
 balconies are filled with gay people full of fun, pelting 
 with flowers, sugar-pliuus, and confetti the queerest- 
 
84 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 looking crowd, in eveiy sort of wild harlequin dis- 
 guises, that is running riot in the street below them. 
 Really, while I am in Rome you must not look for any 
 more long letters of the Syria sort. I will tell you 
 about it some day. The city is full, too, of Americans, 
 and lots of people that I know are here. I have made 
 some very pleasant acquaintances among the Ameri- 
 cans who are living here, and who know Rome well. 
 The state of the country is terrible, and the poor 
 Pope is in a most miserable position. I saw his Holi- 
 ness the other day, driving in splendid state, but had 
 no good look at him through the carriage windows. 
 The swarm of priests and monks of many sorts in the 
 streets is horrible. I have n't heard from you since I 
 left Alexandria. I hope to get letters to-day. 
 
 Friday, February 9, 1866. 
 
 No letters to-day. What has become of you all ? 
 Well, this must go. It is a poor letter to send from 
 the Eternal City, but it is so hopeless in a place like 
 this to try to tell you what one sees. One does n't 
 know where to begin. To-day, for instance, I spent 
 the morning in two of the great picture galleries, in 
 the Borghese and Corsini palaces, then two or three 
 hours in the sculptors' studios, among others Rogers's, 
 who has by far the best bust of Mr. Lincoln that has 
 yet been made ; and the afternoon among the ruins, 
 which are exhaustless. So make allowance for short- 
 comings and forgive me. This will do at any rate to 
 tell you that I am splendidly well and happy, and love 
 you all as much as ever. I wish you could see, feel, 
 and taste this glorious soft Italian weather. Good-by. 
 God bless you all. Six months more and I shall be 
 almost home. Your loving son, 
 
 Phillips. 
 
ROME. 85 
 
 Rome, February 19, 1866. 
 To the Sunday-Schools of the Church of the Holy Trinity 
 and Cliapel, Philadelphia : 
 My dear Children, — When I think how near 
 Easter is coming, I think also how pleasant it would 
 be if I could spend that day at home in Philadelphia ; 
 and particularly, I wish I could be with you in the 
 Sunday-school and at your Easter service. As I have 
 no chance of that, I want to write a few words which 
 I hope Mr. Coffin will find time to read to you some 
 time in the course of the day, as my Easter greeting. 
 For of all my friends in America there are none by 
 whom I should be more sorry to be forgotten, or whom 
 I should be more sorry to forget, than the circle 
 who make up our schools and classes. I do not mind 
 telling you (though of course I should not like to have 
 you speak of it to any of the older people of the 
 church) that I am much afraid the younger part of 
 my congregation has more than its share of my 
 thoughts and interest. I cannot tell you how many 
 Sunday mornings since I left you I have seemed to 
 stand in the midst of our crowded schoolroom again, 
 and look about and know every face and every class 
 just as I used to ; nor how many times I have heard 
 one of our home hymns ringing very strangely and 
 sweetly through the different music of some far-off 
 country. I remember especially on Christmas Eve, 
 when I was standing in the old church at Bethlehem, 
 close to the spot where Jesus was born, when the 
 whole church was ringing hour after hour with the 
 splendid hymns of praise to God, how again and 
 again it seemed as if I could hear voices that I knew 
 well, telling each other of the ''Wonderful Night" 
 of the Saviour's birth, as I had heard them a year 
 
86 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD, 
 
 before ; and I assure you I was glad to shut my ears 
 for a while and listen to the more familiar strains 
 that came wandering to me haKway round the world. 
 But I meant to write you an Easter letter, and to 
 give you an Easter gi-eeting. As I have gone to Pal- 
 estine once in this letter already, let me take you 
 there again. In the Holy City of Jerusalem, you 
 know, Christians built ever so many years ago a 
 noble church directly over the place where it is be- 
 lieved Jesus was buried, and right under the dome of 
 this grand old church, they have built up a little tem- 
 ple of marble which incloses what is believed to be 
 the real tomb where the Saviour lay — and this, of 
 course, is a very holy place ; and when I was in Jeru- 
 salem I used to go and stand by the side of that cold 
 stone and watch the endless stream of worshipers 
 that came up there to pray. They were pilgrims from 
 every quarter of the globe; in all kinds of dress, 
 with all kinds of faces, and all shades of color. First 
 an old man that seemed to have used almost the last 
 strength that was in him to crawl from his far-off 
 house in frozen Russia to see the Holy Sepulchre 
 before he died ; then a young girl with her face full 
 of enthusiasm, who had apparently given all her youth- 
 ful strength away and came pale and weary, but full 
 of joy, to the place that she had longed for by day and 
 dreamed about by night ; then a mother would come 
 with her child and press its little lips against the cold 
 marble, while the baby would shrink back and look 
 up in her face as if he wondered what it meant. It 
 was a very touching sight to me. They crept on their 
 knees through the little low doorway into the tomb, 
 that is always lighted with countless lamps of gold and 
 silver ; and as if there were no way strong enough for 
 
ROME. 87 
 
 them to express the feeling that had brought them so 
 far to see this holiest of all places, they cast them- 
 selves upon the stone and covered it with kisses, and 
 cried as if their hearts would break for joy. It was a 
 strange and very touching sight. But when I recall 
 it now in connection with Easter Day, the one thing I 
 think of most is the emptiness of that tomb in Jerusa- 
 lem, and the ways we have of doing honor to Jesus 
 which are so much better than making pilgrimages to 
 the place where he was once buried. You remember 
 what the angel said to the disciples on the first Easter 
 morning, when they made their pilgrimage to the 
 Holy Sepulchre : " Why seek ye the living among 
 the dead ? He is not here. He is risen." It seems 
 as if one heard those words all the time he is walking 
 about in Jerusalem. Let us, my dear children, rejoice 
 together on Easter Day in the great Easter truth that 
 Jesus our Saviour is to be found and worshiped, 
 not in any cold tomb, but in any heart, no matter 
 how young and humble, that is warm with his love, 
 and bright with the constant cheerful effort to do 
 whatever duty He desires. That is the happy temple 
 in which He loves to live, and I hope every one of us, 
 this happy Easter Day, will find this Saviour very 
 near to us, risen from his tomb and come to live 
 with us, and help us, and be our friend and brother, in 
 every joy and sorrow of our lives. That is the Easter 
 prayer which I pray with all my heart for each 
 one of you. 
 
 I must not write only to the members of our schools 
 and classes at the church and at the chapel. I must 
 not and do not forget the teachers, who are laboring 
 on in their good work. My dear friends, let me bid 
 you Godspeed out of a heart full of sympathy with 
 
88 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 you and with your work. May your Easter be a day 
 of renewed courage, and hopefulness, and love. May 
 God help you in your happy work, now and always. 
 It will be a happy day for me when I stand once 
 more among you to be your fellow-worker. 
 
 I suppose we shall none of us meet this Easter 
 without thinking of the last. What a sad day it was ! 
 You remember we had to take all our flowers down 
 and hang the church in black, and our celebration, 
 with its cheerful carols, was given up, for it was just 
 then that we heard the terrible news of our good 
 President's murder. We shall never, any of us, 
 forget that day. Every Easter will always bring it 
 back. And especially this year, I am sure, none 
 of us will keep the holy day without thanking God 
 that the cause which our President died for has been 
 so victorious, that peace has come back to us, that the 
 great rebellion has been defeated, and that men and 
 women can no more be slaves in America forever. 
 We must be very thankful for these things, and pray 
 God earnestly to keep our dear country always from 
 these two great sins of rebellion against the govern- 
 ment and oppression of any of its people. 
 
 But my letter, which meant to be very short, has 
 forgotten itself, and wandered along over all these 
 pages. There is much more that I want to say, but I 
 must wait till I get home, and can say it myself. 
 That will be, I hope, very early in the fall. I shall 
 spend my Easter here in Rome, after making a short 
 journey first to Greece. I wish I could paint for you 
 in words the beauty of the springtime in this delightful 
 climate, which is already blossoming into siunmer, 
 while America is still shivering with the cold of its 
 severe winter. 
 
ROME. 89 
 
 And now, my dear friends, good-by, and may God our 
 Father bless and keep us all. If He spares us to meet 
 again, I think we shall all try to work harder than ever 
 to serve and please Him. Let us pray for one another 
 that we may be kept from every danger and every sin. 
 I let my mind run along our schoolrooms, and as I 
 see you there I ask a blessing for each of you. May 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, who rose on Easter Day, rise 
 anew on this Easter in all your hearts, and be a living 
 Saviour, a friend, a brother, a helper, and a comforter 
 to you all, all the days of your lives. May He live 
 with us until, when we have done our work, He takes 
 us to live with Him forever. Always, my dear chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Your affectionate friend and rector, 
 
 Phillips Brooks. 
 
 Rome, Tuesday, February 20, 1866. 
 
 Dear Father, — I wonder what is the matter. 
 Since I left Alexandria, a month ago yesterday, I have 
 not had a single letter from America. The mails keep 
 coming, and everybody else gets lots, but there is 
 nothing for me. I have put off writing from day to 
 day, because it is rather pleasanter to write when one 
 has a letter to answer, but there seems to be no use in 
 waiting any longer. I am afraid my letters must 
 have been sent by mistake to Alexandria, and it will 
 be some time yet before I get them. 
 
 I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed these 
 two weeks in Rome. Every moment of them has been 
 busy, and I know the old city pretty well. I have ex- 
 plored it from end to end, above ground and under 
 ground, the churches, ruins, picture galleries, the Vati- 
 can, the Campagna, everything. The first week of 
 
90 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 my stay here was the Carnival, and the town was 
 crowded with strangers. Since Lent began they have 
 largely gone off to Naples, and left a little room, so 
 that one can climb up to the Coliseum, or go through 
 a picture gallery, without being in a jam of folks so 
 great as to take away half the pleasure of the thing. 
 
 I am going off this week for a while. I start on 
 Friday for Naples and Messina, whence I shall sail 
 next Tuesday for Athens ; and after spending eight 
 days there shall return to Rome, getting back here 
 about the 13th of March. Then I shall have two or 
 three weeks here before Easter, immediately after 
 which I shall leave for a month in northern Italy, and 
 go to Paris about the first of May. I am depending 
 much on seeing Greece, though I am afraid I can visit 
 little besides Athens, for the countiy seems to be in 
 such a state now with the brigands that it is not safe to 
 go far away from the town. I am to meet Mr. Apple- 
 ton in Naples, and he will go with me. 
 
 I have met a great many people here whom I know. 
 Two or three families of parishioners from Philadel- 
 phia, a great many Boston people, and many whom I 
 have come across in traveling. Almost everybody 
 who is traveling in Europe comes to Rome in the 
 spring. There are also a great many very pleasant 
 American families living here permanently. I have 
 seen a great deal of the Storys, and like them exceed- 
 ingly. Yesterday I spent with them, in an out of 
 town excursion to one of the old villas, which was as 
 beautiful as antiquity and springtime could make it. 
 We had a capital time. Miss Shaw, sister of Colonel 
 Shaw of Fort Wagner, is staying with the Storys, 
 and is very charming. They have pleasant receptions, 
 where one meets the nicest people in Rome, particu- 
 
ROME. 91 
 
 larly the artists. Story is at work on a colossal 
 Everett for the city of Boston. Edward does n't look 
 very imposing just now, for he has only got one 
 trouser on, and is very much in the condition of 
 "Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John." It is 
 going to be a fine thing. Mr. Story has also a fine 
 statue of Colonel Shaw, and Rogers has a capital bust 
 of Lincoln. I dined the other day with Mr. Hooker. 
 Charles Adams and his wife have just arrived, and 
 other people keep turning up. Next Friday, the 
 22d, there is to be a meeting of the Americans here, 
 with a breakfast. I believe I am committed for 
 a little speech. Won't it be funny to make a Hail 
 Columbia address in Rome ? There are lots of cop- 
 perheads here, and there will be much pleasure in 
 saying a few words to them. The Rev. Charles 
 T. Brooks is here, and is to read a poem. 
 
 Tuesday Evening, February 20. 
 
 At last I have heard a little from you to-day. I 
 have yours and mother's of January 2, and William's 
 of January 8. You may be sure they are very 
 welcome. They have been to Alexandria and back. 
 I am glad to hear you are all well, and I thank you 
 for your New Year's wishes. How I wish you could 
 see and feel the spring here ! It is delicious, and 
 every day now adds to its beauty. What a winter 
 you have had at home ! I feel as if I had skipped win- 
 ter altogether. I have not set foot in snow once; 
 but I must stop. I want to put a choice collection of 
 stamps for Mr. John into my letter. I am very well, 
 and shall be glad when I see you all again. Good-by, 
 love to all. 
 
 Phillips. 
 
92 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 Messina, Monday, February 26, 1866. 
 
 Now, my dear James,^ we will have that little talk 
 which we have been meaning to have so long. It is a 
 whole month, I believe, since I received your letter. 
 Why have n't I answered it? Simply because, my 
 dear boy, I have been in Rome, and who can write 
 letters there ? I have had to be content with know- 
 ing that I was thinking about you, and that you 
 knew I was thinking about you, and promising my- 
 self to write as soon as I got to some less absorbing 
 place. So here I am, waiting for the steamer that is 
 coming to take me to Athens. I have leaned out of 
 my window in this Hotel Trinacria, and looked away 
 up the straits towards Scylla and Charybdis, and there 
 is no sign that she is coming yet ; so I am sure of time 
 for a good long talk with you. It was good to read 
 your letter, and to hear for the first time your talks 
 as a theological student. It was so far an a<?com- 
 plishment of the purposes and hopes of these last two 
 years ; it is an assurance of so much done, and so is 
 a pleasant starting-point for the next stage. It is n't 
 easy to run, for Hebrew Dictionary and Jahns and 
 Homes are not light loads to carry; but the very 
 getting at it is a sort of inspiration, and I am sure 
 the same Help that has brought you up to it will 
 carry you bravely through. God bless you in it. 
 
 That is all I am going to say about your studies. I 
 say it with all my heart, you know. I am not going 
 to write you " a page about homiletics " or anything 
 of the sort. I am too desirous to have my letters 
 read for that. If you want suggestions in detail, 
 have n't you got Fred, and can't he give them to you 
 a great deal better than I can, way off here? I am 
 
 ^ Rev. James P. Franks. 
 
MESSINA. 93 
 
 sure you are not going to disappoint any of us, but 
 more than fulfill all that we hope of you. 
 
 How have you and that same Fred got along this 
 winter? From what I hear of the bitter cold, you 
 must have been very affectionate to keep each other 
 warm. How different our winters have been. Mine 
 has been full of fruit trees in full fruit, and hot, 
 sunny days ; while yours has had skates, snow-storms, 
 and all that. Yours is a great deal the best for a 
 steady thing, but mine has been a very enjoyable 
 luxury for this once. My last three weeks have been 
 completely given up to Eome. Did I ever tell you 
 that it was the one place in Europe that I was most 
 anxious to see perfectly and know through and 
 through? I believe I do know it well, and I shall 
 have three weeks more to revel in it, when I get back 
 from Greece. Do you remember the photograph of 
 the old city that hung over my bookcase in Bpruce 
 Street ? How many times I have studied and tried to 
 understand it. Now ask me any house in it and see 
 if I do not tell you. From the first walk down to 
 the Coliseum before breakfast, the morning after I 
 arrived, down to my last view of the crippled old 
 aqueduct striding across the Campagna as I rode 
 out to Naples, it was an unceasing and infinite delight. 
 There are a great many pleasant people there, too, 
 some of whom I knew at home, and many whom I 
 learned to know well there. We had a very patriotic 
 time on the 2 2d of February, and stirred up the dusty 
 old air with national melodies of which the Caesars 
 never heard, and talked about loyalty and liberty, 
 which they would not have appreciated if they had. 
 Then there was Naples, just as bright, sunny, and gay 
 as Rome is grim. The one is always solemn and 
 
94 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 stately, even when it is dressed in carnival scarlet. 
 The other is always on the broad grin, and dancing 
 like a faun. They are both perfect in their ways. 
 And now I am going to see what Athens is like, and 
 then come Florence, Venice, Genoa, Paris, and the 
 biggest and best day of all, when I see Boston again, 
 which is worth the whole lot of them together, and is 
 the best place on the world's face to live in. So say 
 we all of us, don't we ? 
 
 Everything is going well, and it is pure good nature 
 in the people to be kind enough to miss me when they 
 fare so well in my absence. All this is a great relief 
 to my mind, and lets me go on without an anxiety, 
 adding pleasure to pleasure while my year lasts. 
 Some time in October will see me back, if I am 
 spared. To think that before I come Fred will have 
 been ordained and will be at his work ! Where will 
 it be ? I should so like to have had a glimpse of you 
 together in your household life this winter. How 
 much you must have enjoyed it, and how much you 
 both owe to me for making you know one another ! 
 
 Give my kindest regards to your mother and sister, 
 and to my other friends in Philadelphia. As to old 
 Fred, tell him I love him still, and ask him to write 
 oftener, and I will pay him when he goes to Europe. 
 
 And now, my dear boy, good-by and God bless you. 
 I think of you lots ; you may make ever so many 
 friends without having one that will like you better, 
 or wish you every blessing more fervently than your 
 old friend, P. B. 
 
STEAMER GODAVERY. 95 
 
 Stea-mer Godavery, between Messina and Athens, 
 Tuesday, February 27, 1866. 
 
 Dear William, — Here I am on the Mediter- 
 ranean again. Coming down from Rome to Athens, 
 I crossed by steamer to Messina, and last night our 
 old friend the Godavery, in which three months ago 
 we sailed from Smyrna to Beyrout, took us up and is 
 carrying us fast towards Athens. Appleton came 
 from Paris, and joined me at Naples. We shall be 
 there probably early on Thursday morning. It seems 
 like getting back to last winter's experiences. The 
 boat is full of Greeks, French, Germans, and what 
 not. The familiar cabins recall the days when 
 we were getting ready to plunge into Syria, wondering 
 what kind of a time we should have there. The Med- 
 iterranean is as beautiful as ever. To-day is a soft, 
 clear, warm, blue day, when one just likes to sit on 
 deck and think what a lovely thing the sea is. Indeed, 
 I have found this treacherous sea all winter one of the 
 gentlest, most gracious, and best behaved of creatures. 
 
 This sea life of a day or two is quite a rest after 
 Rome with its intense and constant interest. I cannot 
 teU you how I enjoyed that city. I had hoped much 
 from it, but my enjoyment far surpassed all my antici- 
 pations. It has more than any other city of those 
 things which, once seen, become pictures to you for- 
 ever. St. Peter's so vast and so beautiful, the Vatican 
 with its labyrinth of art, the Coliseum and the Forum 
 with the beauty of their ruin, — one doesn't know 
 where to begin to think about what there is in Rome. 
 I paid your old High School eloquence the tribute of 
 a thought, as I looked at the ruins of Horatius Codes' 
 bridge, and at the place in the Forum where 
 
 *' Virginius caught the whittle up and hid it in his gown." 
 
96 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 Some day, if you care about it, I will get out the map 
 of Rome, and we will go over it and spell out the his- 
 tories that are written there, one over the other. The 
 mere art of Rome is infinite. Think of a city that 
 has the Dying Gladiator, and the Apollo Belvedere, 
 and what is called the greatest picture of the world, 
 Raphael's Transfiguration. Do you remember seeing 
 it for years in the copy in St. Paul's chancel? I 
 thought it a wonderful picture when I saw the original 
 in the Vatican ; I cannot think it so gi-eat a picture 
 as the Dresden Madonna, but the comparison of great 
 pictures is very unsatisfactory and odious. A mere 
 list of the other pictures of Rome that fill you with 
 their power or beauty would crowd my paper. Of the 
 people in Rome I saw many, some very pleasant. At 
 the Stoiys' house, I met several of the best artists, 
 and other interesting folks. I saw Miss Hosmer, Miss 
 Stebbins, and Miss Cuslunan, three ladies of genius, 
 you know, and very pleasant personally. Our 22d 
 of February went off well. President King, of New 
 York, presided, and his son, our minister in Rome, 
 General King, Mr. Story, General Bartlett, and I 
 spoke, and R«v. C. T. Brooks, of Newport, read a 
 poem. We were very patriotic, and an Italian band 
 played our national airs well. 
 
 I am very much disappointed about my letters ; there 
 IS a mistake about them somewhere. I received none 
 before leaving Rome, except those that had been all 
 the way round by Alexandria. The latest was yours 
 of January 8. Now I shall get no more till I reach 
 Rome again, which will not be till about the 14th of 
 March. Then I shall expect a big bundle. I don't 
 know what the hitch is, but take it for granted that it 
 will regulate itseK by that time. 
 
ATHENS. 97 
 
 Hotel d'Angleterre, Athens, 
 Thursday Evening. 
 
 I am here on the 'OSos AtoXov, as the street signs call 
 it, which means -^olus Street. I go out on my balcony 
 and look one way, and there is the Temple of the Winds 
 and the Acropolis beyond, with the Parthenon glow- 
 ing in the sunset. I look the other way, and see the 
 Academy and the old grove where Plato taught his 
 pupils. In front is the Piraeus and the Saronic GuK, 
 with Salamis in the distance. Two hours ago I was 
 on Mars Hill, where Paul made his address ; the old 
 stones of the Judgment Seat are still standing at 
 the head of the stairs that lead up from the Agora. 
 Then I went over to the Pnyx and stood where 
 Demosthenes and Pericles have so often spoken to the 
 Athenians of old. Before me was the Temple of 
 Theseus, the most perfect of all relics of antiquity. 
 
 Friday Evening, March 2. 
 
 Here my letter came to grief yesterday, owing to 
 the dinner bell. I spent the evening very pleasantly 
 at Dr. Hill's. You know he is our missionary here, 
 and the man who has done more than anybody else 
 for the elevation of Greece, by means of education. 
 
 He told me a great deal about Greece that was in- 
 teresting. To-day I have been on a very delightful 
 ride from Athens through the Pass of Daphne, along 
 the Thriasian Plain to Eleusis, the place where the 
 old mysteries, the most sacred religious rites of 
 ancient times, were celebrated. It is a very beauti- 
 ful spot, in full view of the Bay of Salamis, where 
 the great battle of the Greeks and Persians was 
 fought, and of the height where Xerxes sat and over- 
 looked it. Coming back, I went to the Acropolis 
 again, wandering around to see its beauty from 
 
98 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 every point of view. The whole sweep of the land- 
 scape is glorious : Hymettus, Pentelicus, Colonus sur- 
 rounding the beautiful plain ; the Ilissus and Cephi- 
 sus, the two classic rivers of Athens, now mere dry 
 torrent beds, running through it, and the Acropolis, 
 with its immortal temples standing up, the central 
 gem of the whole. 
 
 Many things are odd in traveling here. First, we 
 are twelve days behind time. You know the East 
 has never adopted the change of calendar, so that 
 leaving Messina on the 27th we arrived here on the 
 17th. To-day is the 19th of February on all their 
 newspapers, so for the present, I am twelve days 
 younger than you think. Then it is curious to hear 
 everybody, the cabmen, shopkeepers, beggars, talking 
 familiarly a language that we have called dead, and 
 struggled so hard to learn years ago. The modern 
 Greek is very like the old, and eliminating differences 
 of pronunciation, one gets to understand it a little and 
 say a word or two so as to be intelligible. The modem 
 city is all very new, and far better, neater, and cleaner 
 than any other Eastern city. On the whole, these have 
 been two great days. Yesterday, my first in Athens, 
 was one of the most memorable of all my journey. 
 
 Saturday Morning, March 3. 
 
 I find there is a mail leaving to-day by the Austrian 
 steamer, so I will close this up hurriedly and send it. 
 We are going on Monday for a little trip into the 
 Peloponnesus, to Argos, Mycsene, and Corinth. In 
 about ten days I shall be back in Rome, and stay there 
 till after Easter. To-morrow I am going to preach in 
 St. Paul's Church, Athens, for Dr. HiU. Lots of love 
 to all ; I am very well. Affectionately, 
 
 Phiu.. 
 
ROME. 99 
 
 Rome, Saturday, March 24, 1866. 
 
 Dear Father, — Since I came back to Rome, I 
 have been so continually busy tbat it has been not an 
 easy thing to get time to write. I beg your pardon 
 very humbly. Now I will tell you a little of the 
 much that I have done and seen since I wrote an 
 enormous letter to Arthur from Athens, which was 
 mailed at Naples. One of the best things was to get 
 an immense pile of letters when I arrived here. All 
 the accumulation of two months reached me at once, 
 and I have had a great treat in reading them. I 
 heard of your reception of all my letters from 
 Damascus to Naples, and you and mother, William, 
 Fred, Arthur, and John, with others outside the 
 family circle, contributed to my delight. 
 
 We had a rather rough passage from Athens to 
 Messina, and then from Messina over to Naples. I am 
 a very good sailor by this time, but still I am not 
 sorry to think that I have no more to do with the sea, 
 except in crossing the Channel, until I sail for home. 
 I did not stay in Naples, but came right on here. 
 
 Since my return, the climate of Rome has been 
 bad, sort of New England April weather, some rain 
 almost every day. But the country is looking beauti- 
 ful, and when we have fine weather it is splendid to 
 go about; for rainy days, we have the Vatican, the 
 Capitol, and a dozen other galleries. One day this 
 week I have spent at Tivoli, another in the Alban 
 Hills, Frascati, Tusculum, and Albano. The country 
 and people are very interesting indeed. 
 
 Rome has got to be just like home to me now. I 
 know it through and through, and after so much 
 wandering, my stay here has been a very pleasant 
 change. I have made a good many acquaintances 
 
100 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 among our resident artists and the travelers. The 
 Storys, Crawfords, Tiltons, Miss Cushman, Miss Steb- 
 bins, and Miss Foley, all of them I have seen a good 
 deal of, and like. To-day, I am to dine with Mr. 
 Mozier, one of our best sculptors here. I have been 
 quite interested in visiting the studio of a colored art- 
 ist. Miss Lewis, of Boston, who has recently come 
 here, and promises very well indeed in sculpture. 
 
 Of travelers there are many ; Rome is crowded, so 
 that it is impossible to get a room. Many Philadel- 
 phians are here. Also the Morrills, Mr. Gardner 
 Brewer, and Mr. Wales, of Boston ; this is all very nice. 
 
 Next week is Holy Week, with all its great church 
 pageants, closing with the splendid fireworks on 
 Easter-Monday night. On Tuesday, I shall leave, 
 and go by way of Foligno and Perugia to Florence ; 
 then to Bologna, Parma, Modena, Ferrara, Padua, 
 and Venice. Then to Verona, Milan, the Italian 
 lakes, Turin, Genoa, Nice, Marseilles, Lyons, and 
 Paris. Does n't that sound good ? I am depending 
 much on Florence and Venice, and indeed all the 
 route is very rich. 
 
 I am sick at heart about Johnson's performance ; it 
 was my first greeting when I got back to Rome, and 
 was very depressing. It seems as if we had a narrow, 
 vulgar-minded man upon our hands, and must take 
 all the delay and suffering that he chooses to put upon 
 the country. Of course, we shall come out all right 
 at last, but it is very disheartening to come up short 
 against such an obstacle. 
 
 I hear talk about quarantine in America this 
 summer. Would n't it be nice to spend thirty days at 
 Deer Island on my way home? They seem to be 
 expecting the cholera everywhere, both here and at 
 home. 
 
ROME. : : s ; ^' ; IW . 
 
 Tell Arthur and John I was set up to get their 
 letters. I had already written to Ayojuir.^ > 'My i>^xJ^>, ; 
 will be to Mr. John. Forgive this poor letter. . . . 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Rome, March 30, 1866. 
 
 Dear Jack, — I will tell you where I am and what 
 I am doing. I am up in the fifth story of the Wash- 
 ington Hotel, that 's the where ; and I am seeing the 
 sights of Holy Week at Rome, that 's the what. They 
 began last Sunday with the great blessing of the 
 palms at St. Peter's. It was a gorgeous service, with 
 very splendid music. You have to dress for it, as if 
 you were going to a party. Nobody without a dress 
 coat is admitted into any place where you can see 
 anything. Then yesterday (Thursday) was one of 
 their great days. In the morning, his Holiness 
 washed the feet of twelve priests, who stood for the 
 Apostles, in St. Peter's, and waited on them at table. 
 It was a very odd and ugly sight. A tremendous 
 crowd was there, and it was as perfectly devoid of 
 anything religious or impressive as it was possible to 
 conceive. Then the Pope came out on the great bal- 
 cony in front of the church and pronounced his bene- 
 diction. That was one of the grandest sights I ever 
 saw, — the whole vast piazza crowded, and the clear 
 voice of the old man ringing out his blessing so that 
 every one could hear. In the afternoon, I heard the 
 famous Miserere in the Sistine Chapel, and whatever 
 else may be humbug about this strange week here, that 
 was certainly the most wonderful music I ever listened 
 to. Now, everybody is looking forward to Easter 
 Sunday, when the whole will crown itself with a 
 splendid service in the morning, and the great illumi- 
 
102 , FFRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 nation of St. Peter's dome at night. There is much 
 ^ih^i is very interesting about it, but still it is good 
 every day to get away for a while, and wander off 
 into the ruins ; to go down the Corso, and climb up 
 among the nests of crooked streets at its foot, till you 
 come out on the Capitol ; then go down through the 
 Forum, and under the Arch of Titus to the Coliseum ; 
 by the Arch of Constantine to the Baths of Caracalla, 
 the finest old bit in Rome, and out the Appian Way 
 till you get beyond the gates on the Campagna, among 
 the aqueducts and tombs. Last night, I was going 
 with some folks to see the Coliseum by moonlight, but 
 it was cloudy and we gave it up ; about eleven o'clock 
 I happened to look out, and found it was clearing 
 and the clouds breaking away, so I started off alone, 
 and went down and had it all to myself. Not even 
 a guide was there. I climbed over a gate to get in, 
 and wandered all over it, with the most splendid moon 
 pouring down and lighting up the city on one side, 
 and the Campagna and the Alban Hills upon the 
 other. It was a great treat to sit there and watch it. 
 I wish you had n't been asleep, and could have gone 
 with me. 
 
 I am just getting ready to leave Rome, and am 
 dreadfully sorry to go away. I have seen everything, 
 but want to keep seeing it over again. When you 
 paint your future, don't forget to put your brightest 
 colors on the days that you are to spend in Rome. 
 Perhaps I may be ready to come again by the time 
 you set out. 
 
 We find time, even here in Rome, to talk about 
 home, and especially about the President and his 
 veto. I am glad to say people generally agree with 
 you and me, and agree with us vigorously, too. The 
 
FLORENCE. 103 
 
 patriotism and home interest of the best sort of 
 Americans seem to be stronger here than ever. It 
 certainly is a great shame that such a man should 
 block our wheels and keep peace waiting, under the 
 pretense of hastening it ; but he can only delay things, 
 not spoil them. To-day is Good Friday, just a year 
 ecclesiastically from the death of Lincoln, and the 
 real beginning of things going v/rong. By the way, 
 why is there no commission yet for a great statue 
 of Lincoln for Boston ? Mr. Story showed me his 
 Everett yesterday. It is very fine, a colossal figure 
 in plain citizen's dress, in the act of speaking, the 
 right arm raised in Mr. Everett's favorite gesture, the 
 whole very bold and simple, and successful, I think. 
 
 I send some more rare post-office stamps, all I can 
 get now. Are there any you want especially ? Let 
 me know, and I will try. Good-by, and be a good 
 boy, and write to me. 
 
 Your loving brother, Phillips. 
 
 Florence, Hotel de l' Arno, 
 April 8, 1866. 
 
 Dear William, — Here I am in my third day 
 at Florence. Before I begin to rave about the city, I 
 will tell you how I came here. When I wrote to 
 John, I was in the midst of Holy Week at Rome. 
 Many of its services, such as the washing of feet 
 and tending on table by the Pope, were disagree- 
 able and fatiguing. But three things stand out in 
 my recollection as very fine and impressive. One 
 was the Miserere in the Sistine Chapel on Thursday 
 evening, by far the most sublime and affecting sacred 
 music I ever heard. The dim chapel, dusky old fres- 
 coes, and splendid presence joined with the wonderful 
 
104 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 music to make it very impressive. Then the great Papal 
 Benediction on Easter Day at noon, from the balcony 
 of St. Peter's, the vast piazza crowded full, the peas- 
 ants from all the surrounding country in their strange 
 dresses, the gorgeous background of soldiery, the per- 
 fect stillness, and the voice of the old man ringing out 
 his blessing over them all. It was one of the sights 
 of a lifetime. Third, the illumination of St. Peter's 
 at night was magnificent. Every line of the majestic 
 dome bursting out in fire, the whole standing as if it 
 were the fiery dome that Michael Angelo conceived 
 and tried to build. 
 
 Besides these, the moment in the Easter service was 
 very solemn when the Host was elevated, the silver 
 trumpets sounded in the dome, and the whole vast 
 audience fell on their knees. Romanism certainly 
 succeeds in being very striking in some of its demon- 
 strations. Unfortunately, Easter Monday was a windy 
 day, and the great fireworks had to be put off, so that 
 I did not see them. 
 
 It was hard to leave dear old Rome ; I had learned 
 to love it, and hated to go away. My six weeks there 
 will always be a treasure to me. I know it through 
 and through, but it makes me sorry to think that I 
 shaU never see it again. I left on Tuesday morning 
 by rail for Terni, where I stopped over night and went 
 to see the famous falls. They are made falls, but very 
 beautiful, with more variety of surface and effect, I 
 think, than any cataract I know. Wednesday by rail 
 to Foligno, and thence by Vittoria to Perugia, stopping 
 at Assisi, where is one of the most interesting old 
 churches of all Italy, built in honor of St. Francis, 
 who was hermit here. It is rich in the pictures of 
 Cimabue and Giotto, the first of modern painters,^ 
 founders of modern painting. 
 
FLORENCE. 105 
 
 Perugia is a dear old town, full of the pictures of 
 Perugino, Raphael's master. Thursday by Vittoria 
 and rail to Florence, passing lake Trasimeno, where 
 Hannibal gave the Romans such a whipping. Of 
 Florence I cannot speak yet, though I have had two 
 great days here. Think of one room in the Uffizi 
 Palace containing the Venus de Medici (I don't like 
 her, she is too little, physically, morally, and mentally), 
 three Raphaels, two Titians, one Michael Angelo, and 
 lots besides, and that will give you, when you multiply 
 it by fifty or a hundred, some idea of what is waiting 
 for you to see here at Florence. Go to the Athenaeum 
 and look at Michael Angelo's Night and Morning. 
 They are here in solemn marble, over the Medicis' 
 tomb in St. Lorenzo church. Yesterday I went up to 
 Fiesole, and looked down on this perfect valley with 
 its beautiful town, and this morning I climbed to the 
 top of Giotto's Campanile in the great cathedral 
 square, and saw the city from there. To-morrow I am 
 going down to Pisa to see if that tower really leans, as 
 Woodbridge's Geography said, and after spending the 
 week here, I shall be off for Bologna and Venice. I 
 wonder sometimes that one does not tire of the very 
 excess of interest and beauty, but the constant change 
 is a constant impulse, and I am fresher for enjoying 
 things to-day than I was when I first set foot at 
 Queenstown. 
 
 On arriving here, I found yours of March 20 ; it 
 seems as if I were almost at home to get such recent 
 dates. Now I shall hear regularly every week. Four 
 weeks from to-day I shall be in Paris. By the way, 
 where are your commissions for the centre of fashions ? 
 What nimiber gloves do you wear ? I am glad you 
 think I am economical. I perpetrated one or two 
 
106 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 extravagances at Rome, a bronze, etc. I saw Miss 
 Foley in Rome and liked her exceedingly ; she gave 
 me some pretty photographs of some of her things, 
 which you will find with those which I sent in John's 
 letter. I have met friends here who were large pur- 
 chasers, with whose boxes my modest bundles could 
 be easily and cheaply packed. 
 
 Now, a commission for you. I want a copy of Mr. 
 Sumner's speech on the Representation amendment in 
 pamphlet. I must have it. If you cannot get it any 
 other way, do write to him direct, and ask for it. I 
 am anxious to have it for a particular reason. The 
 Freedmen's Union have asked me to go to London to 
 the anniversary meetings in May to enlighten John 
 Bull's Emancipation League. . . . Good-by, I am 
 perfectly well, and, as you see, perfectly happy. 
 Love to all. Affectionately, Phillips. 
 
 Bologna, Italy, Hotel San Marco, 
 Sunday, April 15, 1866. 
 
 Dear Mother, — I am spending a rainy Sunday 
 at this old town of sausages. I believe there are 
 other things than sausages here, but I don't know 
 anything about them yet, for I only got here late last 
 night, and since I woke this morning it has rained so 
 horribly that I have n't been outside the walls of the 
 hotel. Since I wrote to William last week, I have 
 seen all of Florence, and been to Pisa and Sienna. I 
 am happy to report that the tower at Pisa does really 
 lean, just the way the picture-books have it, and you 
 have the proper pleasant feeling of insecurity as you 
 wind around it up to the top. It has stood crooked 
 for a good many years, and my being safe here to-day 
 
BOLOGNA. 107 
 
 proves tliat it did not tumble when I was on it last 
 Monday. 
 
 The Cathedral and Baptistery at Pisa are both 
 very rich in old art, and the Campo Santo, where 
 the monks, priests, and nobles lie buried in the 
 holy earth that was brought all the way from Jeru- 
 salem for them to sleep in, with its frescoed colon- 
 nades around it, is one of the nicest, quietest burying 
 grounds in all the world. Sienna is a charming 
 sleepy old Italian town, with a wonderful cathedral, 
 and a gallery of immensely old pictures. Among 
 others, an Ecce Homo by an old man called So- 
 doma, which I wish you coidd see. It is almost the 
 most powerful and touching face of Christ which I 
 have seen in any picture. As to Florence itself, it 
 is the brightest, sunniest, bluest, most delightfully 
 pretty place in Italy. The days there were the 
 perfection of Italian weather, when everything, from 
 the hovels to the stars, seems to have ten times as 
 much distinctness of color and outline as it ever gets 
 at home. The pictures in Florence are beyond all 
 description or calculation. You get bewildered with 
 the wealth with which Raphaels, and Titians, and so 
 on, are scattered through the endless galleries. There 
 are hundreds that would be the making, any one 
 of them, of a gallery at home, and which once seen 
 here seem to be before your eyes all the time, and not 
 to be forgotten forever afterwards. The mornings I 
 generally spent in the galleries, and the afternoons 
 walked or rode off into the country somewhere around 
 the town, to some point where its beauty stood out in a 
 splendid view. I shall remember my week in Florence 
 as one of the pleasantest of all my journey. The ride 
 from there here, across the Apennines, was very fine. 
 
108 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 Everybody in Europe now is wondering, you know, 
 whether there is going to be war between Austria and 
 Prussia. If there is, as seems likely, it is impossible 
 to say to what extent it will involve all the rest of 
 Europe. Everything seems ready for a general upset, 
 for there is not one nation among them that is not in 
 some way restless and uneasy with the present state 
 of things, and prepared to welcome a general row in 
 hopes of something better. The Old World is very 
 rotten, and if President Johnson would only behave 
 himseK and stop vetoing good bills, and let the 
 United States go on and do her work, she might lead 
 the imiverse. What a great misfortune that man is 
 to the country ! What have we done to deserve him ? 
 Did we not struggle through the war, and put down 
 the Rebellion? and now why should the conquered 
 South be allowed to come up and rule us stiU in this 
 other form ? It is very hard to understand. The last 
 veto, I take it, is decisive as to his spirit and 
 intentions. 
 
 I had no letters from you this last week. They 
 have gone to Venice. By the time you get this, about 
 the first of May, I shall be in Paris, and stay there 
 some three weeks. I hope to meet Strong there, and 
 shall be very glad indeed to see one so fresh from 
 home, who has seen you all so lately. My time is 
 drawing to its close, and, much as I have enjoyed 
 everything, I shall be quite ready to come home. I 
 expect to enjoy Switzerland immensely. Mr. Tilton, 
 the artist, of whom I saw a good deal in Rome, has 
 promised to meet me there, and we shall probably 
 travel some together. The Storys may be there, too. 
 So far, my whole trip has been a success. I could 
 not ask for anything in it to be changed. But here is 
 
A VIGNON. 109 
 
 my paper all gone, only room left to say good-by and 
 
 lots of love to everybody, and to be, in small letters, 
 
 Your affectionate and dutiful son, Phillips. 
 
 Hotel de l'Eukope, Avignon, France, 
 April 30, 1866. 
 
 Dear Father, — I believe it is two weeks since I 
 have written to any of you at home, though I wrote 
 to Fred from Venice. My excuse must be that these 
 have been two of the busiest weeks of my journey- 
 ing. Before I plunge into Paris, however, I will let 
 you hear of me from this queer old French town. I 
 went from Venice to Verona, where I spent a night ; 
 a very interesting town, with one of the most remark- 
 able Roman amphitheatres, in better preservation than 
 any other. It is one of Shakespeare's great towns, 
 too, " Romeo and Juliet," you know, and " The Two 
 Gentlemen." The old house of the Capulets, where 
 the pretty Juliet lived, is still there. From Verona 
 to Brescia, a delightful old place, Roman remains, 
 mediaeval architecture, and pictures ; everywhere the 
 quaintness, simplicity, and unlike-anything-else-ness 
 of modern Italy. Few places have given me more 
 pleasure than Brescia. From there to Milan, as 
 bright, and gay, and pretty a modem town as there is 
 in the world. In the midst of it stands the wonderful 
 cathedral, that everybody knows all his life in pictures, 
 a bit of most delicate and beautiful lace work, done 
 in white marble, a forest of statues and elaborate 
 carvings, not done yet, and not likely to be finished 
 for many years to come. There are superb pictures 
 in Milan, too, and the almost-gone remains of one 
 of the greatest pictures of the world, Leonardo da 
 Vinci's fresco of the Last Supper. Then to Turin 
 
110 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 by a splendid road, close under the shadow of the 
 Alps, with Monte Rosa and a hundred other white 
 peaks looking at you all the way. Turin is a hand- 
 some town, but has not much to be seen except some 
 good pictures. Then to Genoa, the city of palaces, 
 splendid structures, with magnificent architecture and 
 paintings. The whole situation of the town, too, is 
 very striking. There I took a steamer and sailed to 
 Marseilles. Good-by to Italy, and into the domains 
 of Napoleon the Little ; red-legged soldiers and big 
 gendarmes everywhere. Marseilles is a big city, but 
 not very interesting, and I was soon off to Nimes, a 
 French town as old as the Roman empire, and older. 
 It has fine Roman remains, another amphitheatre, 
 temples, etc. From there to Avignon, the place 
 where the Popes ran in the fourteenth century, when 
 they had to clear out of Rome, and the dearest, French- 
 iest of old towns. The old Papal castle, a grim, 
 thick-walled great affair, is now a barrack for soldiers. 
 From here I go to-morrow to Lyons, and the next 
 day to Paris, where you may think of me when you 
 get this. There is this bit of my biography which 
 you must fill out with ever so much enjoyment every 
 day, and be thankful for, as I am. 
 
 I received letters from you at Venice to March 23. 
 I am depending much on getting some more at Paris. 
 You are all as good as can be about writing. I will 
 try to pay you up when any of you come to Europe. 
 Meanwhile, forgive my shortcomings. I see papers 
 now more frequently ; I am so glad that Congress has 
 passed the Civil Rights Bill. Let them go on and do 
 their duty, firmly, but without passion or exaspera^ 
 tion, and aQ will be well in spite of Johnson. 
 
 All Europe is wondering whether there is going to be 
 
PARIS. Ill 
 
 war. Italy was in great excitement, and is longing 
 for Venetia, which she ought to have. My opinion is 
 not worth anything, for Bismarck hasn't sent me 
 word. But I believe the storm will blow over. 
 
 I expect to meet Strong in Paris in the course of 
 a week. How long our plans will run together, I 
 cannot tell till we meet. Only four or five months 
 more, and I am with you. It will be a glad day. A 
 million thanks for all your goodness in writing. You 
 do not know how glad I am to get letters. No end 
 of love to you all. Phillips. 
 
 Paris, May 9, 1866. 
 
 Dear William, — I have been in Paris now a 
 week, and a busy week in Paris will let you know a 
 good deal about the city. I have loafed in it from 
 one end to the other, and have seen the bigger part of 
 what is worth seeing in the town itself. Under these 
 circumstances, I feel justified in deliberately asserting, 
 and you may repeat it if you wish, on my authority, 
 that Paris is considerable of a place. It is a great 
 change from most of my other traveling, after Syrian 
 tents, and Greek inns, and Italians albergos, and 
 steamboat berths, to settle quietly down in this luxu- 
 rious hotel, dine at nice restaurants, and walk all day 
 on these bitumen sidewalks, which are the luxury of 
 pedestrianism. I am glad I came here last. It is a 
 better place to end than to begin with. 
 
 Paris, you know, is almost a new city. There is very 
 little really ancient or mediaeval left; even the me- 
 morials of its revolutionary days are hard to find. 
 Everything is splendid with the lavish outlays of 
 Napoleon III. I saw him and Mrs. Eugenie driving 
 in the Champs Elysees the other day, and the little 
 
112 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 prince, who is said to be really a very remarkable boy, 
 I saw driving into the Tuileries on Sunday. Paris is 
 full of all sorts of people. Every day somebody turns 
 up that I have known or heard of. I like it very well 
 for a little while. 
 
 I don't know how long I shall stay here. I have 
 some little thought of going over to London on Monday 
 to see the very English sight of the Derby Day. I 
 have also urgent letters from the Freedmen's friends 
 there, who are going to have a public meeting some 
 time this month. If I go, I shall stay in England 
 about six weeks, and get a week or two more here be- 
 fore I go into Switzerland. 
 
 Father's and mother's letters by the Asia, of April 
 25, turned up to-day. That seems like being very 
 near home. Tell them not to worry about the cholera. 
 I shall keep as clear as possible of any places where it 
 may show itseK. I am delighted to hear that you are 
 all well at home. Nothing but the war is talked of 
 now. Things certainly look very belligerent. I did 
 Venice just in time. Nobody is allowed to go there 
 now. 
 
 By the way, our friend Mr. Ward is in London, and 
 one of the active Freedmen's men. . . . 
 
 What an exceedingly disagreeable creature our chief 
 magistrate is! I always take up a new paper now, 
 sure that there will be another of those abominable 
 vulgar speeches, and they are so weak and bad. If 
 they had any strength in them, we could stand their 
 vulgarity. Well, he can last only three years longer, 
 and meanwhile everybody must work against him, as 
 they did against our other enemies. 
 
 This is not much of a letter to write from Paris, 
 but perhaps, next week I will give you a stunner about 
 
LONDON. 118 
 
 the Derby Day. Paris you must come and see for 
 yourself. It 's such an odd, splendid jumble that it 
 can't be written about satisfactorily. However, I am 
 well and happy, and you must take that for the burden 
 of this letter. Affectionately, 
 
 Phill. 
 
 London, Albemarle Hotel, 
 
 May 18, 1866. 
 
 Dear Mother, — I write in great haste this 
 morning, because I do not want this week's mail to go 
 without some indication of me. I am in London again 
 and very well, that is about all that I have time to say. 
 I left Paris behind me on Tuesday morning, and 
 crossed the Channel by way of Boulogne and Folke- 
 stone. With my usual luck, I had a bright, smooth 
 day, and none of those disagreeable scenes which are 
 often witnessed on board the Channel boats. 
 
 I found London very full indeed, and only just suc- 
 ceeded in getting a room. Wednesday I went to the 
 Derby Day. It is one of the great characteristic Eng- 
 lish sights ; all the city of London shuts up shop, and 
 goes out twenty miles into the country to Epsom, to 
 see which of two horses will run the fastest. The ex- 
 cited look of the city, the stream of people of aU ranks 
 and sorts going out, the hosts who cover the grounds, 
 the excitement of the race itself, and then the return 
 to town at night, let you see one sort of English life as 
 you cannot well see it anywhere else. The Prince of 
 Wales was out there, and so was I. 
 
 This is the big thing that I have done in London 
 this week. Besides this, I have been seeing the great 
 city over again, and picking up new impressions of it. 
 When I was here before, it was deserted ; now it is 
 
114 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 crowded, and every excitement and fashion is at its 
 height. You cannot think how strange it seems to get 
 back into English ways, and in sound of our own lan- 
 guage. Why, the very boys in the streets speak Eng- 
 lish ! It seems like getting very near home again, and 
 if it were not that I am to put off into foreign parts 
 again by and by, I should feel as if my travelings were 
 almost over. I hope to stay in England now till the 
 end of next month. The country is not looking its 
 best yet, though it is very beautiful. It seems as if 
 you could not cut out a square mile anywhere from 
 this England without getting a gem of a garden or a 
 park. 
 
 About the Freedmen's business, of which I have 
 feared that I should have a good deal when I reached 
 here, I think I shall escape it almost altogether. The 
 great financial crisis has interfered with their plans, 
 and no meetings wiU be held. I am going to a private 
 meeting of a Mr. Kinnaird, M. P., this evening. . . . 
 
 I caUed at the Adamses yesterday and saw Mr. 
 Adams; Mrs. Adams was out. I shall see more of 
 them, no doubt, by and by. 
 
 Strong met me in Paris and came on to London, 
 and is now with me. I was delighted to see him and 
 to hear about you aU. 
 
 Four months more and I am with you. Until that 
 happy day, I am always affectionately, 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Albeuarle Hotel, Londok, May 26. 
 
 Dear Mother, — I must not let to-day's steamer 
 
 go without a line to say that I am well. I am still in 
 
 London, though I expect to leave for the country 
 
 some time next week. I have promised to speak at a 
 
LONDON, 115 
 
 meeting at Birmingham, June 12, that will be my 
 only public performance in England. Yours and 
 father's and Arthur's reached me last Monday, and 
 were most welcome. Tell Mr. Arthur to do it again, 
 if he can. 
 
 London is full to the brim, and the weather is 
 glorious. Every day has been very busy, seeing the 
 endless sights. One day I went down to Canterbury, 
 and spent the whole day at the cathedral and other 
 old buildings there. It is a glorious place ; next 
 week I hope to get to Cambridge, and as soon as pos- 
 sible to Oxford. 
 
 Your cousins the Adamses are well and very hospi- 
 table, and inquire all about you. To-day the Scotia is 
 in, and I hope she has some letters for me. She 
 brings news of another veto of our precious President. 
 English people think he is a great man. 
 
 Strong is with me, and will be, probably, most of 
 the summer. It makes it very pleasant. 
 
 It looks now a little more as if they were going to 
 get over the crisis in Europe without much fighting, 
 but a little match may set the whole pile of combustibles 
 off at any moment. This all makes it more fortunate 
 that I came just when I did, and got through. No 
 cholera anywhere, and don't worry about Switzerland. 
 Lots of love to all. Affectionately, 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Univebsity Arms, Cambridge, 
 May 29, 1866. 
 
 Dear Fred,^ — I am in our Alma Mater's Mater. 
 There is something charmingly homelike and familiar 
 in old Cambridge. Outwardly unattractive by situa- 
 tion, but very lovely with old Gothic courts and build- 
 
 1 His brother, Rev, Frederick Brookg. 
 
116 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 ings, and all the beauty of noble old trees, perfect 
 lawns, and blossomy hawthorns. The pretty Cam 
 covered with college boats, the streets full of college 
 faces and manners that might have been transplanted 
 from the dear old banks of the Charles. The students 
 seem to me very like indeed to Harvard boys, — the 
 same average of age, the same general bearing, the 
 same sort of talk. If anything especially gives them 
 an advantage over us, it seems to be in the University 
 system, the grouping of colleges so as to create a 
 friendly coi-porate as well as personal rivalry, and the 
 presence among them of older and mature scholars, 
 residing on fellowships, etc., who raise the scholarly 
 standards of the place higher than they could be set 
 by mere undergraduate attainment. 
 
 Both of these advantages, I think, are capable of 
 being engrafted on our system, and if they ever are, 
 I see no reason why, in time, our greater freedom from 
 old prescriptions and restraints should not make our 
 University a better place than this. The beauty of 
 the college grounds, their homey seclusion, and perfect 
 vistas are past desci-ibing. Oxford, of course, sur- 
 passes Cambridge in all this, but Cambridge is a con- 
 tinual delight. 
 
 I only arrived to-day, but hope to stay a day or two, 
 and see much more of the University life. From here 
 I am going on a little trip to Peterborough, Ely, Nor- 
 wich, and some other towns in this part of England. 
 It is the season of seasons for its beauty. The 
 Phillipses (this for father) came, I believe, from Rayn- 
 ham in Norfolk, or near it. You remember the ori- 
 ginal George, who came over and preached under a 
 tree in Watertown, and died of an imfortunate colic. 
 Don't you ? Perhaps I have got them a little mixed 
 
CAMBRIDGE. 117 
 
 up, but all those facts were among the household 
 words of our childhood. . . . 
 
 As to my time in London, it was very full, but of a 
 lot of things that you can get from the guide-books 
 about as well as from me. I like London immensely. 
 Last night I spent at the House of Commons. It was 
 one of the great nights of the Reform Bill. By the 
 kindness of Mr. Forster, I got admission to the Speak- 
 er's gallery. The best men on both sides spoke : Glad- 
 stone, calm, cool, clear, and courteous ; Disraeli, jerky, 
 spiteful, personal, very telling ; Bright, honest, solid, 
 indigiiant with the small trickery and meanness of 
 the opposition ; Mill, who holds people by sheer power 
 of thought, as I have hardly ever seen any man do ; 
 Whiteside, Grey, and others. The government was 
 defeated on a side issue by the manoeuvring of the 
 opposition, and the weakness of some of their own 
 men. As to the look of the House, it certainly sur- 
 prises one, who has heard their endless abuse of our 
 legislative assemblies, which of course are bad enough. 
 There was no such brutal outbreak as sometimes dis- 
 graces our noble representatives, but for constant and 
 bitter personality, in place of argument, for boisterous 
 and unmannerly carrying-on generally, Washington 
 cannot beat them. In the middle of the evening, I 
 dined with Mr. Forster and Mr. Bright, and had our 
 great English friend pretty much to myself for two 
 hours. He is a great talker, especially when he gets 
 on to America, and he knows what he is talking about. 
 Both he and Forster are friends worth having. Bright 
 personally wins you in a minute by the frankness and 
 cordialness and manliness of his greeting. Hughes, 
 I saw, but not for any talk. The Reform Bill, little 
 as it attempts, seems bound to fail. 
 
118 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 One word about Venice. If I did not expatiate, it 
 was not because I did not enjoy it immensely. It is 
 aU that your fancy ever painted. Some day I wiU tell 
 you about it. 
 
 Many thanks for your photograph. It is capital, 
 the very boy I used to see, lazily stretching his length 
 in my chair in Spruce Street. 
 
 Strong wants me to remember him very kindly to 
 you. We are having a great time. The new rector 
 of the Trinity parish in Boston is to join us for Switzer- 
 land this summer. I wish you were to be the fourth. 
 
 I am to speak at a breakfast and public meeting in 
 Birmingham for the freedmen. Probably I shall not 
 have time to write to Boston this week, so either send 
 them this letter, or let them know that I am weU. 
 
 Be sure I shall think of you ever so much on your 
 ordination day. God bless you. Phill. 
 
 Albemarle Hotel, London, 
 June 8, 1866. 
 
 Dear William, — There will be another very 
 short and unsatisfactory letter, I am afraid, to-night. 
 The fact is, I can teU you about London by and by a 
 great deal better than I can write it, so we will put it 
 oif until I get home, which, by the way, will be on the 
 25th of September. I am to sail in the good steamer 
 Ville de Paris, from Brest for New York, on the 15th 
 of September, and shall be with you in ten days from 
 that time. Does n't that sound near ? I prefer the 
 French steamers to the English, and this particular one 
 is unsurpassed by any boat on the Atlantic. Look out 
 for her. 
 
 To-day I have been to one of the great London sights 
 of the year, the Charity Scholars' Festival, under the 
 
LONDON. 119 
 
 dome of St. Paul's, four thousand little wanderers 
 gathered together and singing in chorus. I never 
 heard anything so telling, the great building rang with 
 their voices. A bishop preached the sermon. After 
 the performance I had the pleasure of lunching with 
 Dean Milman, a charming old gentleman. Do you 
 not remember his " Belshazzar," that Dimmock used to 
 spout ? This evening I have spent with Browning, at 
 the Story s' rooms (they have just come to London). 
 He (Browning) was one of the men I wanted most to 
 see here, a pleasant gentleman, full of talk about 
 London and London people, with not a bit of the poet 
 about him externally. 
 
 Last Monday I went to Eton, to their great annual 
 festival. Do you remember Eton Montem in the 
 " Parents' Assistant " ? It was a fine day, and the coun- 
 try was looking very beautiful. And I saw the great- 
 est of the great English schools at its best. 
 
 I wrote last week to Fred from Cambridge. I con- 
 tinued my trip to Peterborough, Ely, and Norwich, 
 and enjoyed immensely the great cathedrals of all the 
 towns and the perfect English country. Strong has 
 left me for a week or two to go to northern England, 
 to see some places which I visited last fall. I am go- 
 ing in a day or two, and shall be at Birmingham for a 
 Freedmen's meeting, on the 12th ; at Oxford for the 
 great Commemoration on the 13th, and then keep 
 west. Meet Strong again at Chester, take a run 
 through Wales, and the southern part of England, and 
 get back to London about the first of July, and then 
 be off to Switzerland with your rector. 
 
 An "Advertiser" to-night with Seward's speech. 
 So good-by ; engage Robin for September 26. I am 
 very well. Lots of love to all. Good-night. 
 
 Phill. 
 
120 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 Warwick Arms, Warwick, June 14. 
 
 Dear Father, — If a letter is going to you at 
 home this week, it must be written to-night, and yet 
 I confess I don't feel much like writing it. I have 
 just reached here, am very tired, and the waiter is 
 thinking of bringing me some dinner. Until it 
 comes, I will try to talk to you, and you must not 
 be surprised if you find me stupid. When I woke 
 up this morning, I foimd myseK in Stratford-on-Avon, 
 where I faintly remembered arriving late last night ; 
 I arose as soon as I realized where I was, and took a 
 walk before breakfast across the nicest and quaintest 
 of English fields, to see the old farmhouse where 
 Shakespeare made love, where Anne Hathaway used 
 to live. The old cottage stands without an alteration, 
 and is a charming little place. Then I came back to 
 breakfast, and after that was over, went off to see the 
 rest, — the birthplace, schoolhouse, burial-place, and 
 all that belongs to the poet's life here, which we 
 know very well by pictures that we have seen all our 
 lives. Nothing in England, I think, has a stronger 
 charm than this queer old town. About noon, I took 
 the train for Warwick, but, finding I was too late to 
 see the castle to-day, I looked at the church with its 
 monuments, the finest, best preserved in all England, 
 and then drove across the loveliest of country, stop- 
 ping at Guy's Cliff, where the earliest of the 
 Warwicks, the hero of the fairy stories, used to put 
 up (and he had a splendid place of it), to Kenil- 
 worth, where I spent the whole afternoon among the 
 ruins, and such an afternoon as you will never know 
 anything about till you come over and do just the 
 same thing. By the way, are you not making up 
 your mind to come over to the great Paris fair of 
 
WARWICK. 121 
 
 next year? It is time for you and mother to be 
 thinking about it. Then I came down to Leam- 
 ington, and spent an hour or two in the park of an 
 English watering-place, and finally took the train 
 back to Warwick, where I am waiting to see the 
 noblest castle in England to-morrow morning. That 
 is what I have done to-day. Yesterday I spent at 
 Oxford ; it was Commemoration, which is their Com- 
 mencement, a strange sight, — perfect wild license of 
 the students, and the freest liberty to chaff, and hoot, 
 and cheer as they please. It was a picture that is not 
 to be seen anywhere else. The day before that, I was 
 in Birmingham, telling Britons that they had been 
 slaves to prejudice and self-interest about America. 
 The day before that, I was at Blenheim, the great 
 palace of Marlborough. Do you remember Mr. 
 Everett's splendid description of it in his Washington 
 address ? The two days before that, I was in Oxford 
 (Saturday and Sunday) enjoying the most perfect 
 college landscapes, and some of the kindest hospitality 
 in the world. That takes me back about to my last 
 letter, and accounts pretty fully for my week. 
 
 I did not get yours of last week ; they are waiting 
 for me at Chester, where I shall call for them on 
 Monday, on my way into Wales. I hope you are 
 all well. The Fenians seem to be restless again ; I 
 hope we shall put them down with their nonsense. 
 And why do you not either try Jeff Davis, or let him 
 go ? It would be a great relief to foreign travelers. 
 Before you get this, the great war will probably have 
 begun over here, and promises to be terrible. Three 
 months from to-morrow I sail for you all. Good-by. 
 God bless you always. Affectionately, 
 
 Phillips. 
 
122 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 The Goat Hotel, BEDDOEiiERT, Wales, 
 June 20, 1866. 
 
 Dear Mother, — I am thinking that to-day is 
 Fred's ordination day, and that you and father are 
 in Philadelphia. Am I right ? How I wish I could 
 be with you. I wonder where the ordination is ? I 
 hope in my old church. It would always be a very 
 pleasant thing to think of his having been ordained 
 there ; wherever it is, I wish him with all my heart 
 every blessing and success in his ministry. Of course, 
 you will write me about it at once. 
 
 I am in Wales. Get your map and find this little 
 valley where we have hauled up in the rain. It lies 
 at the foot of Snowdon, shut in by grand, bleak 
 Welsh hills, with a little brawling picturesque Welsh 
 stream tumbling among them. It is the place, you 
 know, of the old murder of the faithful hound by his 
 master, LleweUyn. Gelert's grave is in the garden 
 of the hotel. My views of Wales are much like 
 Jonah's, very wet; it has rained, off and on, pretty 
 much all day, while we (Strong and I) have been 
 driving first by coach to Llanberis from Caernarvon, 
 and then from Llanberis here by post. Caernarvon 
 is on the coast, with a noble ivy-grown castle of early 
 times, where the first Prince of Wales was born. 
 The people talk an unintelligible gibberish without 
 vowels, and the women wear shabby hats, and all 
 looks quaint, quiet, and thrifty. The road thence 
 to Llanberis is very beautiful, and Llanberis itself 
 nobly situated at the entrance of a pass, and inter- 
 esting with its pretty waterfalls, and a most pictur- 
 esque tower of the sixth century. It has vast quarries 
 of slate. The schoolboys and the house roofs bid fair 
 to be kept supplied for years to come. From Llan- 
 
WALES. 123 
 
 beris to Beddgelert the scenery is glorious. The 
 wildest pass, with tremendous cliffs, countless water- 
 falls, ivied cottages, and quaint, odd-looking people 
 everywhere. Wales delights one with its grandness 
 and majesty, as unlike sunny England as can be. 
 
 I think I wrote you last week from Warwick; 
 thence I traveled to Rugby, and saw the old school, 
 and all that reminds one of Dr. Arnold, its great 
 master. The boys were at a cricket match in the 
 close, and all looked just as it ought. Then to 
 Coventry, where are some of the greatest churches 
 and quaintest houses in England, and "Peeping 
 Tom," still looking out of a hole of a corner house, 
 in perpetual efl&gy. Then to Chatsworth, the noblest 
 private residence in England, the seat of the Duke of 
 Devonshire, and near it Haddon Hall, a perfectly 
 kept specimen of the old baronial hall, the best in the 
 kingdom ; then to Litchfield, where I spent Sunday. 
 A beautiful cathedral, a lovely country, and much of 
 interest in connection with Dr. Johnson's birth in the 
 town, and its previous active part in the Civil Wars. 
 Monday to Chester, where I was rejoined by Strong, 
 and met Potter (your rector), who joined us the next 
 day to Conway, where is a great old castle, and then 
 to Bangor and the wonderful tubular bridge over the 
 Menai Straits ; then rail to Caernarvon, which brings 
 my story complete. Potter left us to-day to push 
 direct to London, where he will join us in a couple of 
 weeks to start for the Continent. He is very well, 
 and seems full of hope about Trinity.* I think it very 
 likely that we may return together. 
 
 So you see I jog on. Every day is full of new pleasure, 
 and every day bringing me nearer and nearer home. 
 I have begun to count the weeks ; only fourteen more, 
 
124 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 and I am with you. Won't it be nice ? This terrible 
 war, which has begun now, will perhaps interfere 
 with some of my summer plans. But that will be 
 the least of its evils, and I will not complain. I have 
 been very fortunate, and have seen, it may be, more 
 than I can digest. 
 
 I found letters from you at Chester, but now shall 
 get no more till I reach London, ten days hence, 
 which is hard. 
 
 I hear from Philadelphia that all goes well, but I 
 want to be there more than I am wanted. I had a 
 letter from Dr. Vinton a week or two ago. How I 
 wish I could get into the back parlor to-night, and I 
 would tell you a great deal more about this splendid 
 Wales. Good-by, and love to all. I am very well, 
 and always your loving son, Phillips. 
 
 Albemarle Hotel, London, 
 June 29, 1866. 
 
 Dear William, — Last week's letter was sent from 
 the heart of Wales, the foot of Snowdon. This is 
 from the metropolis again, so I spin along. During 
 the week I have seen and done a good deal. We 
 climbed to the " Tip Top House " of Snowdon, and so 
 began in a mild way our summer's mountaining. The 
 climb does not amount to much. The view is one of 
 the noblest I know, with infinite variety of hill, valley, 
 and lake, and the sea in the distance. Then we took 
 a long ride through most perfect scenery from 
 Beddgelert to Port Madoc, down the coast to Bar- 
 mouth, and thence to Dolgelly. This last stage, 
 from Barmouth to Dolgelly, is the finest bit in Wales, 
 and can hardly be surpassed anywhere. You must 
 take it when you come abroad. 
 
LONDON. 125 
 
 From Dolgelly we came across the country to Shrews- 
 bury, then down to Hereford, where there is a fine old 
 cathedral, on to Ross, and thence by a most beautiful 
 ride down the valley of the Wye to Monmouth, where 
 we spent Sunday, a pretty and deadly quiet little 
 village. Keeping still down the Wye to Chepstowe, we 
 passed Tintern Abbey, the most beautiful monastic 
 ruin in England. You cannot conceive how lovely it 
 is, with its exquisite arches, perfect windows, and 
 immense masses of rich ivy, Chepstowe to Gloucester, 
 Worcester, Bristol, Wells, all interesting towns, with 
 historical associations, fine old buildings, and delightful 
 scenery. Then to Salisbury, and there I saw what is 
 to me the most impressive thing by far in all England, 
 Stonehenge, the old Briton temple out on Salisbury 
 plain. A drive of eight miles from the town, over the 
 green, flat plain, got us there just before dusk, and we 
 saw the gigantic ruin looking its lordliest. There 
 was something very grand and absolutely refreshing 
 in those enormous rude, gray stones, the symbols 
 of old strength, and will, and worship. I would rather 
 miss seeing anything else in England than Stone- 
 henge. From Salisbury to Southampton, and thence 
 to Winchester, which is full of interest, and then 
 back to smoky, dingy, grand old London. The 
 whole trip has been delightful, weather fine, except 
 one or two days, and the scenery looking its best. 
 Now I have done with England, and shall start 
 Monday morning for Paris again, and by next week's 
 end be in Switzerland. 
 
 I found letters here from you, for which no end of 
 thanks. You don't know how much I enjoy them. 
 Next Monday is your birthday. All hail to you, 
 thirty-two! 
 
126 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 I met your friend, Mrs. Walter Baker, in Wales. 
 Tell father and mother I want to know all about the 
 ordination. Good-by, and in three months more I am 
 with you. Love to all. 
 
 Your affectionate brother, Phill. 
 
 Stbasbubg, July 7, 1866. 
 
 Dear Mother, — I have an hour or two on my 
 hands, and will begin my next week's letter. I am on 
 the wing again, you see, and set for Switzerland. 
 Yesterday I was at Rheims, one of the most interesting 
 towns of France, where all the old kings used to be 
 crowned, and where a good many of them are buried. 
 Its cathedral is a wonderful thing of the richest and 
 noblest Gothic. There are old Roman remains in the 
 town, too. These Romans are everywhere. Then I 
 came on here. I wish you could see Strasburg ; you 
 coidd hardly find a better specimen of an old town, 
 half French, half German, than this is. It is strange 
 to hear them talking German once more. It seems 
 like last autumn over again. This afternoon I am 
 going to Baden-Baden, the great watering and gaming 
 place. There I shall spend Sunday. Thanks to the 
 submission of Austria, it seems now as if the whole 
 Continent would be open enough to travel. Is n't the 
 news good ? All France is waving with flags for the 
 glory that has come to her in the business. Italy will 
 be the best monument that Louis Napoleon wiU leave 
 behind him, and it will cover many of his misdeeds. 
 I should like to be in Venetia now, and see their re- 
 joicings. 
 
 Basle, Tuesday, July 10. 
 
 I had a day or two in Baden-Baden, and then 
 came on as far as here, where my tour of Switzeiland 
 
BASLE. 127 
 
 really begins. I enjoyed Baden very much indeed. 
 Its situation is most beautiful, and everything just 
 now is looking its best. The great gambling-place is 
 not quite as full as usual this year. The war has kept 
 some away, but there is plenty of gayety there, and the 
 tables are going from morning until night. Sunday 
 morning, just after breakfast, I saw them at it, and I 
 did not sit up late enough to see the end. The walks 
 and drives through the country about Baden are 
 charming. No wonder it is a place of such attraction. 
 I came from there here. This is a quiet little town, 
 with the usual old cathedral and a picture gallery, 
 and the Ehine running through it. There is nothing 
 particularly interesting about it. I am waiting only 
 till this afternoon for Strong, whom I left in Paris, 
 and who will probably overtake me here. . . . 
 
 It is getting quite warm, and no doubt we shall 
 suffer enough from the heat in some parts of Switzer- 
 land ; but there are always the mountains to retreat 
 to, and with a glacier close at hand one ought to be 
 able to get along. 
 
 I hope you are counting the time as closely as I am 
 to my getting home. Only twelve weeks more, and 
 there I am. How you will miss the chance of writing 
 me a letter every week, and what a saving there will 
 be in postage ! I am hoping to hear, when I get to 
 Geneva, of Fred's ordination, and perhaps of his 
 settlement somewhere. I hope he will not be in a 
 hurry to decide where to go. There is so much to do 
 everywhere that he can have his choice, and it will be 
 a great deal better if he waits till fall. 
 
 I am glad you have had a journey. I hope you 
 went to West Point and Niagara. I depend on hear- 
 ing all about it. Next year you and father must 
 
128 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 come over to the Great Exposition. Now good-b^f 
 for another week. Love to all. 
 
 Most affectionately, Phillips. 
 
 Chamounix, Tuesday Evening, July 17, 1866. 
 
 Dear William, — I write to you to-night from 
 the foot of Mont Blanc. I do not in the least 
 expect the letter to be worthy of the place, but here I 
 am in the Hotel Royal. Early this morning, George 
 Strong and I left Geneva (about which I will not tell 
 you anything, except that the lake is one of the love- 
 liest things on the earth), in the back boot of a big 
 lumbering diligence, with five horses, and set our faces 
 towards the Alps. For five broiling hours the country 
 was tame and dull, and nothing seemed to foretell 
 Switzerland, except the increasing number of horrid- 
 looking people with goitres on their necks, who came 
 with idiotic grins to beg by the coach side. About 
 noon, the hills began to gather round us, an occa- 
 sional snow patch was seen up among the clouds, now 
 and then a waterfall came hurling itself down, and 
 saying something in the Alpine tongue, which we 
 had n't yet learned to understand. At one o'clock (I 
 want to be exact about such an important moment 
 in my life), we drove into the little village of St. 
 Martin, and, turning suddenly to cross the gray, small 
 river Arve, which had been brawling at our side all 
 the way, the driver pulled up his five horses, and there 
 was Mont Blanc, as vast, and grand, and white as 
 one has dreamed of it, twelve miles off, they said, 
 though it might as well have been twelve hundred, 
 it seemed so unapproachable and far away, although 
 we saw its whole outline, and the ridges in its snow, 
 and the great black needles standing up out of the 
 
CHAMOUNIX. 129 
 
 white distinctly. Well, we had a pretty good lunch 
 at the town on the other side of the bridge, called 
 Sallanches, and then, leaving our diligence behind, took 
 small carriages and started for Chamounix. It was 
 awfully hot. Our brains sizzled and steamed. I have 
 been as hot only once or twice ; never hotter. And 
 the snow peaks were looking down, and making cool 
 fun of us all the time. By and by, we came to a 
 steep hill, and had to get out and climb three miles. 
 When we reached the top, Mont Blanc was nearer 
 and plainer, and we could see the great glaciers run- 
 ning down the sides, and ahnost catch the sparkle of 
 the intense white snow on top. Then the heat broke 
 up in rain, and it poured down, first in great big Al- 
 pine drops, and then in sheets, for the next two or 
 three miles. When this was over, a great rainbow 
 came, tied itself like a sash on the white shoulder 
 of the ridge, and fell down across its white robe to 
 its feet. 
 
 We entered the valley of Chamounix, passed along 
 by the foot of the Glacier des Boissons, saw the 
 Mer de Glace in the distance, crossed a lot of bois- 
 terous little streams, that came down just fresh from 
 the great calm snow, rattled over a bridge across 
 the Arve again, and were in the village; secured 
 rooms in a sort of supplement to the hotel, which 
 is called the Crystal Palace, and found ourselves 
 just in time for the six o'clock table d'hote. 
 
 Chamounix as a village is principally three great 
 hotels, with no end of little ones. All the other houses 
 are connected in some way with Alpine tourists. 
 It is safe to ask at any house for an alpenstock. 
 The general appearance of the town reminds me 
 of Gorham, only there is n't a railway, and there 
 
130 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 is Mont Blanc. It is raining guns to-night, but my 
 pair of big shoes, with nails in the soles, are out 
 already for to-morrow. Meanwhile, a flash of light- 
 ning every now and then cuts across a gap, through 
 which you can look at the snow, that has laughed at 
 some thousands and thousands of rain-storms. 
 
 There, young man, sometimes you complain that I 
 don't tell you what I am doing. Look at that ! I 
 flatter myself nobody ever made more out of a day's 
 ride than that ; certainly you will know at least how 
 I got from Geneva to Chamounix. 
 
 At Geneva, I found letters, all whose burden was 
 the great Philadelphia visit. One from you, one 
 from father, one from Mr. Coffin, and a little slip 
 from Fred. I am rejoiced that all went oif so well, 
 and now I depend upon hearing about the new 
 Eeverend's future plans. Two months from to-day I 
 shall be on the ocean. The Ville de Paris made a 
 passage of nine days lately, so I think you and Eobin 
 may look for me on the 26th. Now good-by. Glory, 
 glory, gloriation ! ten more weeks before vacation. 
 • . . Phill. 
 
 GiESSBACH, Switzerland, August 5, 1866. 
 
 Dear Mother, — To-day, I am up here in the 
 woods, with the famous Falls of Giessbach tumbling 
 and roaring in front of my windows, spending Sun- 
 day in what, if it were not for the great hotel, would 
 be the most retired nook of all creation. 
 
 At Interlaken, the other day, I received three weeks' 
 accumulation of letters; a good feast after a long 
 starvation. • I must defer all accounts of my own 
 minor travels to congratulate you on the great 
 achievement of your Niagara. I am very thankful 
 
GIESSBACH, 131 
 
 that you have been there. It is certainly the greatest 
 wonder of Nature, which remark has been made 
 about it before, perhaps, but I want to assure your 
 complacency by letting you be confident that the 
 Old World has nothing to show that will compare 
 with it. Mont Blanc is pretty grand, and there is no 
 reason why you should not see that, too, some day, 
 but for the present you may rest well satisfied with 
 Niagara. 
 
 It seems lucky, with such a houseful as you have 
 had, that one of the boys was safely out of the way 
 in Europe. . . . This last week, I have been seeing 
 the wonders and the beauties of the Bernese Oberland, 
 as it is called, that part of Switzerland which lies 
 about the lake of Thun. Then from Macugnaga, 
 where I wrote last Sunday, I came down the valley 
 of Anzasca to Domo d' Ossola, then over the great 
 Simplon Eoad to Brieg, over the Gemmi Pass to 
 Thun, down the lake of Lucerne, over the mountains, 
 close to the splendid Jungfrau to Meyringen, and 
 from there to this mountain side on the lake of 
 Brienz. It has aU been splendid. The beauty of 
 Switzerland is, that it has no dull places, and one is 
 never tired, only sometimes bewildered a little with 
 its endless attractions. Strong and I are still together. 
 
 The great interest of your letters was what you 
 told me of Fred's beginnings in the good work. 
 Everything seems to be going splendidly with him, 
 as everybody knew it would. I hear indirectly from 
 parishioners, whom I meet here, of how great is the 
 impression that he made in Philadelphia. I hope 
 he will not be in such a hurry to settle far away, but 
 that I shall see him somewhere in September. 
 
 This is a poor letter, still I am no less your loving 
 
132 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 son, and will tell you so by word of mouth in seven 
 weeks and a half. Good-by, love to all. 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Arona, Lago Maggiore, 
 Sunday, August 12, 1866. 
 
 Dear William, — Last week I wrote from the 
 borders of the lake of Brienz. To-day you see I am 
 on an Italian lake, in a different atmosphere and 
 among a very different people. The traveler over 
 these Swiss passes is constantly changing back and 
 forth between two nations and climates, as different as 
 any to be conceived of. It was very striking, the 
 other day, as we came over the St. Gotthard. At two 
 o'clock we were in the midst of snow fields and icy 
 streams, bleak mountain tops and cold, bitter winds ; 
 then, as we began to descend, we came to sun, fruits, 
 and flowers, and at five o'clock were reveling in the 
 softest air and sunniest sky, the roads were hemmed 
 in by endless vineyards, the girls were offering peaches 
 and apricots at the diligence window, and soft Ital- 
 ian words had taken the place in the lazy-looking 
 people's mouths of the harsher German. 
 
 Since last Sunday I have crossed the lake of Brienz, 
 passed through the Brunig Pass to Lucerne, sailed 
 over its lake, the most picturesque in Switzerland, 
 climbed the Rigi, and spent the inevitable night there 
 among its swarming tourists (the sunset was glorious, 
 but the sun rose nobody knew when, for the dense 
 cloud). We then drove to Andermatt, where we 
 stopped to climb the Furca Pass and see the great 
 Glacier of the Rhone, over the St. Gotthard, and down 
 this noble lake to its southern point, whence I write 
 to you. There is a feeble band playing outside the 
 
THUSIS. 133 
 
 hotel, a young' woman is walking across a rope over 
 the street, and all the ceremonies of a Sunday circus 
 are in full blast, to the great enjoyment of the popula- 
 tion, priests and all. 
 
 We shall spend a few days here among the lakes, 
 and then strike northward again. Our plans will be 
 regulated somewhat by the possibihty which the very 
 misettled state of affairs allows of our visiting more or 
 less of the Tyrol, but we hope to come out any way at 
 Munich, and get a day or two there before I return to 
 Paris to sail. To-day's newspaper brings the news 
 that the armistice is signed at last and peace must 
 follow soon. Mr. L. Napoleon, it seems, is cutting 
 in about those Ehine provinces, and will probably get 
 what he wants ; it is a way he has. . . . 
 
 I received a letter from you at Andermatt, and a 
 good one, too. Is Fred still with you ? I hope soon 
 to hear something about his plans. Is n't it funny, to 
 think that this is the last letter you will have any 
 chance to answer ? Good-night, no end of love to all. 
 Affectionately, 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Thusis, Switzerland, 
 Sunday, August 19, 1866. 
 
 Dear Father, — I wrote the other day to Fred, 
 but I suppose that will not be allowed to pass for my 
 weekly letter. At any rate, as there are only two 
 more to write, I won't be mean, but give you the full 
 measure. We are beginning to see our way through 
 Switzerland now, and there are no broken heads or 
 legs. Last Sunday I wrote from the lower end of 
 lake Maggiore. Since then we have seen the lakes 
 Maggiore, Lugano, and Como ; all of them, especially 
 
134 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 the last, very beautiful. Indeed, in' its own sort, 
 nothing can be more lovely than lake Como. We 
 stayed one day at Bellagio on its eastern shore, and 
 then sailed down to Como, where we spent a night, 
 and then up to Colico near its head. 
 
 From here we drove over the Maloja Pass into the 
 upper Engadine, one of the most interesting regions 
 of all Switzerland, peculiar in climate, scenery, and 
 customs. Their own description of their climate is 
 that they have " nine months winter and three months 
 cold," and as we entered their high table-land, out of 
 sunny Italy, we put on great-coats and buttoned up to 
 the chin against the bitter cold. The scenery is very 
 grand, hardly surpassed in the region of Mont Blanc or 
 Monte Rosa. We stopped at Pontresina, and from 
 there climbed the Piz Languard, the observatory 
 mountain of the district, and had snow-peak and gla- 
 cier views of surpassing grandeur to our hearts' con- 
 tent. Think of that, while you were sweltering in Bos- 
 ton dog-days. They call their language, down there, 
 the Ladein, and it comes nearer to the genuine old 
 Latin than anything else in existence. It was very in- 
 teresting. There is a great bathing establishment in 
 the Engadine, called St. Moritz, with lots of visitors, 
 among others, a Mr. G. McClellan, formerly an Amer- 
 ican general. I did not see him. 
 
 From Pontresina we drove over the Alps again by 
 the Julier Pass to Tiefenkasten, and from there 
 walked across one of the picturesque foot passes to 
 this little village on the banks of the infant Rhine, at 
 the gate of the great Splugen Pass. From here we 
 shall explore the Splugen and its wonderful Via Mala, 
 then go north by Zurich to Constance, through their 
 lakes, and so on to Munich. From there a little trip 
 
MUNICH. 135 
 
 into the Austrian Tyrol, then back to Paris, where I 
 hope to be three weeks from to-day. Four weeks 
 from yesterday my boat is on the shore, my bark is 
 on the sea, and my foreign travels will be over. 
 
 There has been a great deal of heavy rain in Swit- 
 zerland this year, but we have very happily escaped it 
 almost all. I remember only four rainy days. It 
 looks now a little as if it might be ugly weather to- 
 morrow. 
 
 No letters from home lately. Some more are or- 
 dered to Zurich, where I shall get them Wednesday 
 or Thursday. I hope you are all well and begin to 
 have a sort of confidence that, as all has gone so cap- 
 itally so far, I shall have no disappointment or bad 
 news for the rest of my time. I hope you will have 
 as perfect a success when you come. The Exposition, 
 you know, is next summer. 
 
 Strong wishes to be remembered to you. I suppose 
 he will return to Paris with me. 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Hotel Veebjahreszeiten, Munich, 
 Sunday, August 26, 1866. 
 
 Dear Mother, — Here goes for my last letter but 
 one. If you have done such a foolish thing as to 
 keep any of my letters, you might find among them 
 one, almost a year back, dated from this same hotel 
 with the horrible name to it, where I am writing 
 now. How little time ago it seems ! But what a lot 
 has come in between. It was last October, and I 
 was just going to Vienna ; since then, all the East, 
 Italy, France, England, and now Switzerland. Yes, 
 Switzerland is done, and except for the little glimpse 
 
136 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 that I shall get of them in the beautiful Tyrol, I have 
 seen my last of the white hills. I look forward to 
 nothing afterwards but a quiet week of loafing in 
 Paris, and then the steamer. Two weeks after you 
 get this, I hope you will get me. 
 
 I found letters at Constance from William and Mr. 
 Coffin. William's was from that paradise on the 
 seashore where they all went this summer. They 
 seem to be having a splendid time, and not to envy 
 even S>vitzerland. I do not wonder that they enjoyed 
 it, for they had sufficiently varied materials for a very 
 pleasant party. I am glad that Fred was with them, 
 and was not rector of anything up to that date. I 
 dare not hope that such a state of things will last 
 long, but it makes me think that I may possibly find 
 him not yet emigrated to any of the ends of the earth 
 when I get back. 
 
 The great item of home news in the two last let- 
 ters is one that interests me deeply. Bridget has 
 gone I You only state the bald fact, but give no 
 particulars about her successor, as if it were not a 
 matter of profound interest, even to an occasional 
 visitor under the home roof. I do not care what her 
 name is, but what can she do ? Has she any power 
 to create those particular home dishes that have never 
 been seen anywhere else ? Or is she some new 
 person, who will introduce another order of things, 
 and serve up the same round of endless stuff that one 
 gets everywhere besides ? Remember, I insist on 
 flapjacks and fishballs. As to Bridget, she never was 
 a cheerful person ; rather glimi and solemn, not a 
 sunshiny picture to have about the house ; and her 
 flapjacks for the last few years were nothing to what 
 they were, a trifle clammy and heavy ; so that I will 
 
PARIS. 137 
 
 not shed any tears over lier departure, but hope the 
 new-comer may beat her all hollow. 
 
 If this seems a foolish letter to send over the seas, 
 just turn to my exceedingly sensible one, which I 
 have no doubt I wrote last year, and read all you 
 want to know about Munich. What 's the use of 
 writing when I can tell you all in four weeks? 
 Good-by. Love to everybody. 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Grand Hotel, Paris, September 6, 
 
 Dear William, — In answer to your last letter, 
 here comes mine, written in a great hurry, at the last 
 moment ; you see I am so lazy, this farewell week in 
 Paris, that I have not time for anything. My work 
 is over, and I am just sitting here like a fellow who 
 runs over the index of the book he has been reading, 
 to see this epitome of aU Europe and of all the 
 world, — the cosmopolitan city, sparkling, beautiful 
 Paris. But you will be here some day and see it for 
 yourseK, so what 's the use of telling you ? Since I 
 wrote from Munich, I have roamed down into the 
 Tyrol and back again, and seen there some of the 
 most picturesque of scenery and life. Then I put 
 right off for here, where I shall stay till a week from 
 to-morrow morning, when I take the train for a 
 sixteen hours' ride to Brest, and then on Saturday 
 afternoon go aboard the Ville de Paris, Captain 
 Saumon, for New York. I shall get out of New 
 York by the earliest conveyance for Boston, and 
 probably be with you some time on the 26th or 27th. 
 The last trip of the steamer from New York took a 
 little over nine days. We shall be likely, at this 
 season, to be a little slower, but you shall see me as 
 
138 FIRST JOURNEY ABROAD, 
 
 soon as I can get over to Boston. Will you not drop 
 a line to New York and tell them to send the 
 "Nation" to Philadelphia? 
 
 So good-by. When you hear the doorbell ring at 
 No. 41, some time week after next, if you don't 
 make haste to let me in, I will give it to you. 
 
 Your affectionate brother, Phill. 
 
IN THE TYEOL AND SWITZERLAND. 
 
 1870. 
 
 Steamer Hammonia, Thursday, July 7, 1870. 
 
 Dear Father, — It rains to-day, and is very wet, 
 miserable, and disagreeable, the second bad day we 
 have had on our voyage. One cannot go on deck 
 without getting wet through and his eyes full of cin- 
 ders. The cabin is crowded and close, and I have 
 slept and read tiU I cannot sleep or read any more ; 
 so you see it is time to begin to write home, and 
 report myseK. 
 
 We got off safely on Tuesday, the 28th, punctually 
 at two o'clock. Monday night I spent at Potter's, 
 and we went up to Thomas's Gardens and heard mu- 
 sic. Mr. and Mrs. Franks met me at the station, but 
 I suppose you have seen them before this. We were 
 a queer set who sailed together, not many Americans, 
 — Germans, Italians, Mexicans, Danes, and all sorts of 
 people. It makes a very interesting ship's company. 
 There are a lot of Jews ; nobody except Dr. Derby 
 and his wife and the Mason family, whom I ever saw 
 before. The ship is a good one, not equal in size or 
 speed to the Cmiard or French steamers, but more 
 convenient in some respects. 
 
 We have had a splendid passage, only two rainy 
 days ; most of the time clear, bright, sunny weather, 
 and now moonlight nights. Being a screw steamer, 
 she rolls pretty badly. I have been perfectly well 
 
140 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. 
 
 and enjoyed it immensely. We shall be rather later 
 than I expected; probably reach Plymouth some time 
 to-morrow night, and Cherbourg Saturday morning. 
 I shall go to Paris on Saturday night, and reach 
 there about four o'clock on Sunday morning. I will 
 mail this at Plymouth, and your getting it will show 
 you that I am so far safe. You probably will have 
 seen the ship reported by telegraph. It has been a 
 most propitious beginning for my little trip. 
 
 I wonder what has happened at home since I left. 
 Be sure and write me everything ; write every week, 
 some of you. I hope you are off to Niagara before 
 this. Love all aroimd. 
 
 Affectionately your son, Phillips. 
 
 COURMAYEUR, ItAIjT, 
 
 Sunday, July 17, 1870. 
 
 Dear Mother, — I have not written since I landed, 
 of which I am a little ashamed, but I have been very 
 busy, and it has been hard to find a place to write in. 
 But here I am, on Sunday afternoon, sitting on the 
 gallery of this queer hotel, in this funny old Italian 
 town, on the south side of the Alps. In front is a 
 tremendous mountain, with a great glacier upon its 
 face, and at the foot an old square tower with a 
 peaked roof, which may have been a fortress, but is 
 now a house full of beggars ; and in the street in front 
 there is a crowd of people chattering a vile language 
 which is half Italian and half French. This morning 
 I went to the English service here and heard a pretty 
 good sermon. This afternoon I thought I would 
 rather write to you. 
 
 When I wrote to father we were still on the Ham- 
 monia. She reached Plymouth on Friday afternoon, 
 
COURMAYEUR. 141 
 
 the 8th of July, and we landed a few passengers and 
 then sailed to Cherbourg, where we arrived very early 
 Saturday morning, the 9th. I landed about five o'clock, 
 and the steamer went on to Hamburg. From Cher- 
 bourg it was a ride of all day by train to Paris, from 
 eight A. M. to six P. M. The first part of the ride 
 was through a country wholly new to me and very in- 
 teresting, — Normandy, with its quaint people, towns, 
 and splendid cathedrals ; Bayeux and Caen, and so on. 
 I stayed over Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday in Paris, 
 made some purchases, and enjoyed the life of the won- 
 derful gay city. Then I rode all Tuesday night by rail 
 to Geneva, where I met Cooper, and our Alpine trip 
 began. First we drove to Chamounix and looked Mont 
 Blanc in the face, from the side where I have seen him 
 before. He was good enough to be perfectly clear, 
 and we saw him splendidly. 
 
 The next morning we started, and had a hard day's 
 tramp over the Col de Voza and through two of the 
 great valleys of the Mont Blanc range, with magnifi- 
 cent views all the way, and spent the night way up in 
 the heart of the hills at a mountain chalet, where the 
 cows and sheep had the lower story and we had the 
 upper. It smelt of them a little, and we heard their 
 bells, but the beds were good and we were very tired. 
 The next morning we set out at five o'clock, and 
 walked thirty-three miles over three high passes, across 
 snow and rocks, and finally through the Allee Blanche, 
 the great gorge behind Mont Blanc, with its tremen- 
 dous dome and its pinnacles and great rocky wall 
 towering over us. It was splendid beyond all descrip- 
 tion. We reached here at ten o'clock well tired out, 
 and to-day are resting. From here we go on to Aosta ; 
 then across the St. Theodule Pass to Zermatt, and 
 
142 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. 
 
 shall spend next Sunday probably at Andermatt on 
 the St. Gotthard Pass. 
 
 I have engaged passage home by the Ville de Paris, 
 to sail on the 10th of September from Brest ; the same 
 steamer in which I returned before. 
 
 Everywhere there are rumors of wars about the 
 Spanish business, but for three days we have been out 
 of reach of telegraph and cannot know anything of 
 their truth. Please tell father that I bought some 
 bronzes in Paris, and ask him to pay the charges on 
 the box and keep it for me. 
 
 I have none of your letters yet, and shall not have 
 any for a week or more ; but do keep writing. I 
 hope that you have been to Niagara. Good-by, love 
 to all. Phillips. 
 
 Andermatt, July 24, 1870. 
 
 Dear William, — I wonder what you have all been 
 about at home since I left you at the Worcester sta- 
 tion four weeks ago to-morrow morning. I have not 
 heard a word yet, and shall not get letters till to-mor- 
 row night, when we reach Coire, to which place I have 
 ordered letters sent. I hope you are all weU and 
 having a pleasant simimer. Last Sunday I wrote to 
 mother from Courmayeur in Italy. Since then we 
 have had a week of splendid weather and constant 
 movement. 
 
 First, we rode down the beautiful valley of Aosta 
 to Chatillon through vineyards, Italian towns, and 
 very hot Italian roads. Tuesday we climbed up the 
 steep and ugly valley of Val Tournanche and slept at 
 Breuil, under the shadow of the splendid Matterhorn. 
 Wednesday we crossed from Italy to Switzerland again 
 by the glacier pass of St. Theodule, between the 
 
ANDERMATT, 143 
 
 Matterhorn and Monte Rosa, with great views of both 
 and a hundred giants besides, and descended to Zer- 
 matt. Thursday we came down from Zermatt to the 
 valley of the Rhone, and slept at Fiesch ; Friday we 
 climbed the Eggishorn, one of the most magnificent 
 points of view in all Switzerland, commanding the 
 Jungfrau and its big neighbors and the great Aletsch 
 Glacier (the longest in Switzerland), the Matterhorn, 
 and Mont Blanc. Yesterday we came over the Furca 
 Pass, close beside the great Rhone Glacier, out of 
 which the mighty river starts, and reached this quiet 
 little German-Swiss village on the St. Gotthard road 
 yesterday evening. 
 
 It is a lovely day, and it is good to rest for twenty- 
 four hours. To-morrow we are off for a ramble through 
 northeast Switzerland, and shall bring up next Sunday 
 at Ober-Ammergau for the great Miracle Play. When 
 that is over, I shall have five weeks still for a jour- 
 ney in the Tyrol before I go back to Paris to sail for 
 home. 
 
 Meanwhile, there is war in Europe, the most unne- 
 cessary and wicked of wars that ever was made. France 
 has been insolent and arrogant beyond herseK. It 
 probably will be short and severe. A troop of soldiers 
 just passed by the hotel. Switzerland, of course, is 
 neutral, but is arming her borders. We have been 
 out of the way of the war as yet, and probably shaU 
 not see much of it. 
 
 Do write me how everything goes on at home and 
 at the church. Give my love to Mary, and to all at 
 home. Affectionately, Phill. 
 
144 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. 
 
 IscHL, Austria, July 31, 1870. 
 
 Dear Father, — You have written me twice, and 
 well deserve that this Sunday's letter should go to 
 you. This Ischl is the great watering-place of Austria. 
 Here the Emperor has his summer palace, and the 
 great Vienna swells come hither to be under the 
 shadow of his magnificence. Of course we Ameri- 
 cans come, too, to see the fun. Besides this, it is 
 one of the most beautiful spots on the face of the 
 earth. It is at the junction of five of the most 
 lovely wild Tyrolese valleys, and is a pretty little 
 open piece of plain with two bright streams running 
 through it. 
 
 We were at Andermatt last Sunday. We crossed 
 the Oberalp on Monday, a long day's ride to Coire. 
 There we spent a day, making a visit to the famous 
 baths of Pfaffers. From Coire we went by the lake 
 of Constance and by rail to a quiet little Bavarian 
 town, called Kempten. Here we heard what we had 
 rumors of before, that the great Ober-Ammergau 
 Passion Play was given up on account of the war, 
 several of the principal characters having been drafted 
 into the Bavarian army. This was a disappointment, 
 for it was one of the great things which I had hoped 
 to see in coming abroad. On Thursday we pushed 
 on to Munich. Friday morning I saw at Munich a 
 great mass in the cathedral on behalf of the German 
 side of the war. The King and all his court were 
 present. Bavaria seems very enthusiastic on the 
 German side. From Munich on Friday afternoon to 
 Salzburg, the most picturesque of towns, where I had 
 been five years ago, but was very glad to be again. 
 Yesterday the loveliest ride, first by rail to the head of 
 the Traun See ; then a beautiful sail down the lake. 
 
MALNITZ. 145 
 
 and a ride of two hours up the valley of the Traun 
 River to Austria, and here we are. 
 
 The preparations for war go on. They interfere 
 with us only so far as money is concerned. At 
 Munich we had to lose eight per cent, on a draft 
 on Paris. We have had no disappointment yet, 
 except Ober-Ammergau. The Masons are here. I 
 saw the Morrills at Munich. Your letters received up 
 to July 9th. Now we go out of reach of letters for 
 several weeks. I am very well. Love to all. 
 
 Affectionately, Phill. 
 
 Malnitz, August 7, 1870. 
 Dear Mother, — I think you will not find this 
 town on any map at home. Indeed, it is not easy to 
 find when one is very close to it, for it is hidden 
 away among mountains of the biggest kind, and is the 
 littlest sort of a town itself. Besides this Hotel of 
 the Chamois, where we are staying, and the church, 
 which, like all the churches of this region, seems 
 unreasonably large for the population, there is not 
 another good-sized building in the village. The streets 
 are sheep-paths, and there is not a vehicle in the 
 town. But the scenery is gorgeous, and the simple 
 ways of the people are very interesting. Yesterday, 
 we walked over a high mountain pass from Bad Gas- 
 tein. It is a rough and steep road, with a good deal 
 of snow, etc. All along the road were little shrines, 
 put up where men at dangerous parts of the year had 
 lost their lives by avalanches or falls, with rude pic- 
 tures of the accident, and an address to the Virgin, 
 and a horrible religious painting or carving of some 
 sort. The people are very religious and very hos- 
 pitable. It is quite pretty, the way they bless you 
 
146 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. 
 
 and kiss your hand when you go away, particularly if 
 you have paid them well. 
 
 To be sure, their bread is dreadful, and their meat 
 is cooked in fearful and wonderful ways ; but there is 
 plenty of good milk and splendid beer everywhere, 
 and eggs and trout abound ; you always walk enough 
 to be hungry for any food. The beds are short, 
 and the bedclothes shorter, but one gets along with 
 a supplementary shawl and plenty of fatigue; and 
 the mountains, lakes, meadows and waterfalls, are 
 glorious. We have had a splendid week. Monday 
 and Tuesday we spent among the lakes of the Salz- 
 kammergut, the region about Isclil. There are a score 
 of them, all beautiful, shut in by mountains, which 
 you cross from one to another ; and there is always a 
 Tyrolese girl, ready to take her boat and row you 
 across to start on for another. 
 
 Wednesday, we took a carriage, and for two days 
 drove through the valley of the Salza, till, far up 
 among the hills, we came to the very beautiful water- 
 ing place of the Austrians, Bad Gastein. It is lovely 
 as a dream, — just a deep mountain gorge with a 
 wild cataract plunging down through it, and splendid 
 mountains towering above ; mineral baths, which are 
 very pleasant. Yesterday, we walked across the moun- 
 tains, partly in the rain, spending two hours, while it 
 was pouring, far up in a chalet, where they were 
 making Swiss cheese in the dirtiest and most pictur- 
 esque hole you ever saw. This is the first untimely 
 rain that we have had. This next week will be our 
 finest mountain week. 
 
 The war goes on, but we only hear of it by occa^ 
 sionally seeing a week-old paper at some country inn. 
 I hope it will not interfere with my getting to Paris 
 
MERAN, 147 
 
 and sailing on the 10th of September. That is my 
 selfish view of it. 
 
 I shall not hear yet for three weeks, but then expect 
 a batch of letters. I hope you are all well. Love 
 to all. Affectionately your son, 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Meran, Tyrol, August 14, 1870. 
 
 Dear Fred, — I have been meaning to write you 
 ever since I came abroad ; especially, I had a notion of 
 writing to you on your birthday, the glorious 5th, but 
 the mountains were too many for me, and every night 
 I was so tired that I was fain to get into my uncom- 
 fortable little Dutch bed as soon as possible. I warn 
 you beforehand, that you will have an awful time 
 with the beds when you come into these parts. You 
 and I are too long. I have just escaped from a bed 
 at this untimely hour on Sunday morning, because 
 I could not stretch out straight, or make the narrow 
 bedclothes come over me, and that 's the reason why 
 at this present moment I come to be writing to you. 
 
 I have had five glorious weeks of Switzerland and 
 the Tyrol, Mont Blanc, Monte Rosa, the Matterhorn, 
 the Jungfrau, the Grossglockner, and the Marmo- 
 lata. I have seen them all face to face, had splendid 
 weather, walked myself into good condition, found the 
 people interesting and amusing everywhere, and met 
 with only one disappointment. That was in the giving 
 up of the great Miracle Play at Ober-Ammergau, on 
 account of the war, just before we reached there. It 
 was a great disappointment, for one can never have 
 another chance, and every one who saw it speaks of it 
 as very wonderful. 
 
 For the last three weeks we have been in the Tyrol. 
 
148 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. 
 
 I like the people immensely, especially in south 
 Tyrol; they seem to me to be the most cheerful, in- 
 dustrious, hospitable peasantry in Europe. There is 
 a pleasant mixture of Italian and German in their 
 character, as there is in their language, look, and 
 dress. They have very pleasant ways of doing things. 
 It is pleasant, instead of the horrible gong which 
 bangs away at Alliance or Crestline, or the blowsy 
 Irishman who howls at you, "Dinner's ready," to 
 have a rosy, neat Tyrolese girl, as she puts down 
 a dish of soup, wish you, " May you dine well," and 
 as she gives you a candle at night say, " May God 
 give you good sleep," and as she takes your fee at 
 leaving, kiss your hand and wish you "lucky jour- 
 ney." To be sure, the soup is often bad, and the 
 bread almost always horrible, in the little out of the 
 way inns, but their dreadfulness is made more toler- 
 able by the people's pretty ways. It is embarrassing 
 to happen to sneeze in a group of people ; every hat 
 comes off, and the " God bless you's " are showered 
 down in a distressing way. 
 
 Off here in the hills, we hear only stray rumors of 
 the terrible war. The great battle of last week, with 
 its unexpected defeat of the French, has thrown all 
 Europe into tumult, of which we get only the echoes. 
 In two weeks I am going to Paris. What I shall find 
 there I do not know ; unless better fortune comes to 
 retrieve him. Napoleon must be shaken, and probably 
 overthrown. There is a sort of revolution already in 
 Paris. What a blessed thing for us, that big ocean 
 between us and aU this sort of thing ! I wish you 
 could be here this Sunday morning. Cleveland is 
 pretty, but this is prettier. A lovely old valley, with 
 vineyards at its bottom, and running up to the very 
 
BORMIO. 149 
 
 tops of the high hills that shut it in. Old castles and 
 modern chateaux looking down from every side, and 
 in the midst this queer old town, with peasants in 
 their picturesque Sunday clothes, strolling back and 
 forth over the bridge that crosses the little Adige, and 
 an Italian sky and sunlight over everything. 
 
 What a good time we had in Boston those last two 
 days. Can't you come on in September, when Arthur 
 will be there ? I hope we shall have many Sundays 
 together as that last in June. Good-by, and good 
 luck to you always. Affectionately, 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 BoBMio, August 21, 1870. 
 
 Dear Father, — I have received a letter from 
 you this week, written July 26, the second that has 
 reached me. The mails seem to be deranged, and it 
 is not strange. I have written once a week to some 
 of you ever since I landed. I hope long before this 
 the stream has begun to flow, and you have received 
 my letters regularly. This week we have been finish- 
 ing the Tyrol. From Meran to Innsbruck, where we 
 spent a day ; then over the Finstermuntz and Stelvio 
 passes, the last the grandest in Europe, till we came 
 yesterday evening to this little Italian town, as pretty 
 a spot as there is to find anywhere. We have had a 
 little rain, but generally good weather, and a splendid 
 time always. 
 
 Hence we go through a bit of Switzerland, and 
 gradually work up to Paris. How we shall get there 
 I hardly know, or what we shall find when we are 
 there; but I apprehend no difficulty, and certainly 
 no danger for a couple of peaceful travelers like our- 
 selves. We are getting a little more into the way of 
 
150 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND, 
 
 news now, and can regulate our movements better. 
 The one clear opinion seems to be, that somehow the 
 war points to an overthrow and end of Napoleon. 
 The disappointment and mortification of the French 
 at their great defeat seems to be terrible, and the state 
 of things in Paris for a few days was most alarming. 
 Things are quieter now, but only wait for the next 
 struggle, which must be a frightful one. 
 
 We meet no Americans ; indeed, we have not seen 
 a person we know for three weeks. Probably, as we 
 get more into Switzerland, we shall find our country- 
 men there. 
 
 So old No. 41 is down, and the new store is going 
 up. It made me quite blue to hear of it; the world 
 changes sadly, even our little bit of it, but we cer- 
 tainly had a good time in the old house for many 
 years. 
 
 To-morrow I hope to get more letters. Three weeks 
 from yesterday I sail for home ; may God bless and 
 keep you all. Phillips. 
 
 Hotel d'Obient, Paris, August 28, 1870. 
 
 Dear Mother, — We are at last in Paris, after a 
 long week's doubt whether we should be able to get 
 here. We arrived this morning at eight o'clock, after 
 a seventeen hours' ride from Geneva. We met with 
 no detention further than having to wait here and 
 there for trains loaded with cattle and provisions for 
 the army. No Prussians stopped our way, and though 
 it has been officially announced that the government 
 has taken possession of the road, the order has not yet 
 gone into effect, and passenger trains run regularly 
 through. 
 
 We have seen nothing here to-day to indicate that 
 
PARIS. 151 
 
 the city is under martial law, that the Prussians are 
 only two or three days distant, and by all reports in 
 full march for the fortifications. There are many sol- 
 diers about, but the streets are emptier and stiUer 
 than I have ever seen them in Paris, and though there 
 may be a row at any point at any moment, there cer- 
 tainly was never a more peaceful and safe-looking 
 city. What the real state of things is, it is very hard 
 to tell. That the Prussian army is advancing on 
 Paris, everybody seems to believe. The French papers 
 say that it is a movement of desperation. The Prus- 
 sians call it the march of a victor. Meanwhile, the 
 mystery which envelops the condition and intentions 
 of the French armies at Metz and Rheims leaves one 
 utterly in the dark. Whatever comes, there seems no 
 probability of any danger to a stranger living here, 
 and I intend now to stay till a week from next Thurs- 
 day or Friday, when I shall go to Brest, to sail the 
 following Saturday. What we may have a chance to 
 see in the mean time in Paris, we cannot say. You 
 will hear by the telegraph before you get this, but be 
 sure that I will take good care of myself and shall not 
 be in any danger. 
 
 We have come this week from Bormio, where I 
 wrote last Sunday, by Tirano, an Italian town in the 
 midst of its vineyards, over the Bernina Pass to Pon- 
 tresina, in the midst of its glaciers, then over the 
 Albula Pass to Chur, on by rail to Zurich, thence 
 to Berne, where we had to stop to get our passports 
 viseed by the French minister for admission into 
 France, thence to Geneva, and so here. This ends 
 our mountain work, almost seven weeks of as perfect 
 and successful a trip as we could ask. Everything 
 has gone well; no accident, no sickness, and scarcely 
 
152 IN THE TYROL AND SWITZERLAND. 
 
 any bad weather. I am thankful I came, and now ten 
 interesting days of Paris will complete the journey, 
 except the voyage home in the Yille de Paris, which I 
 expect to enjoy exceedingly. Why cannot you time 
 your Niagara trip so as to meet me at the ship on 
 Wednesday, the 21st, or Thursday, the 22d, of Sep- 
 tember. 
 
 I had letters at Pontresina from you and father, 
 which did me good. I have missed a number of your 
 letters, and was rejoiced to get these. I also had one 
 from Arthur about his ordination. Please write him 
 inunediately that I wiU gladly come to Williamsport 
 and preach the old sermon any time in October, if he 
 can arrange it so that the whole trip can come in 
 between two Sundays. 
 
 It is cold and cheerless here to-day. I hope we are 
 to have better weather for the gay city, which is bound 
 to be gay, even if it is besieged. Love to all. 
 
 Affectionately always, Phillips. 
 
 Pabis, September 5, 1870. 
 
 Dear William, — I write a line, which will prob- 
 ably not get home before I do, but I may be detained, 
 and this will teU you that I am well and coming. 
 Yesterday was too busy and exciting a day to write. 
 As the telegraph will have told you, there was a blood- 
 less revolution and we went to bed last night imder a 
 Kepublic. I saw the whole thing, and was much in- 
 terested in seeing how they make a Government here. 
 You can have no conception of the excitement in 
 Paris all day. 
 
 I shall leave here to-morrow or Wednesday for 
 Havre, and sail thence on Friday morning. There 
 has been some difficulty in getting out of Paris, but I 
 
PARIS. 153 
 
 do not anticipate any this week. Still, at the very 
 last there may be something to hinder, and even 
 should the Ville de Paris arrive without me, do not 
 be worried, but know that I will turn up soon. 
 Good-by, love to all. Vive la Republique! 
 
 Phillips. 
 
SUMMER m NORTHERN EUROPE. 
 
 1872. 
 
 Steamship Palmyra, July 5, 1872. 
 
 Dear Father, — T}\(b voyage is almost over. To- 
 morrow morning we shall be at Queenstown, where 
 I think we shall land, to go by Cork and Dublin to 
 London. It will be pleasanter and quicker, and prob- 
 ably get us to London on Sunday morning. (The 
 ship rolls so that I cannot write straight.) We have 
 had a very quiet passage, not much bright weather, 
 but nothing rough to speak of. Dull skies ahnost all 
 the way, with a good deal of rain. The ship is a very 
 good and stanch little boat, rather slow, but still mak- 
 ing steady headway, and as comfortable as she could 
 be with her rather limited accommodations. Paine 
 and I have found our stateroom exceedingly comfort- 
 able, and with a few pleasant people on board, the 
 time has passed briskly. I wonder how Fred has got 
 along? His steamer must be not very far behind us, 
 and I expect to see him in London by Tuesday. I 
 shall be there with him until Friday, the 12th, when 
 we sail to Christiania. We expect to reach there on 
 the 16th, and then shall be off for four weeks on a 
 country trip in Norway. Paine will go with me. 
 
 . . . On Sunday, we had a sermon from an English 
 minister, whose presence saved me from preaching. 
 It was a lovely day, the finest we have had. 
 
 The voyage has been a very pleasant rest, and I 
 
LONDON. 155 
 
 shall be ready for an active summer when we land. 
 Some people get dreadfully wearied of the sea, but I 
 find every moment of it pleasant, and never feel in 
 better health or spirits anywhere. 
 
 I hope that you are going to have a pleasant 
 summer. Do spend a good part of it in writing to 
 me. I shall look anxiously for my budget of letters 
 every week, care of Jay Cooke, McCulloch & Co., 
 London. 
 
 I will write again from London after I meet Fred. 
 My love to mother and all. Tell me what they are 
 doing, and tell them all to write. 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 London, July 9, 1872. 
 
 Dear Mothee, — I will begin a letter to you, now 
 that I have a leisure moment, while I am waiting for 
 Fred, who reported himself at the hotel this morning 
 when I was out, and has not yet returned. So he has 
 arrived, but I have not seen him yet. I wrote to 
 father just before we landed from the Palmyra. We 
 went to Cork and spent some hours there, and drove 
 out to Blarney Castle, through some of the loveliest 
 country that you can imagine. It was a glorious day, 
 and we enjoyed it hugely ; then we took the train to 
 Dublin, crossed the Irish Channel to Holyhead, a beau- 
 tiful sail of five hours, and then a long night's ride by 
 rail brought us to London, where we arrived at six 
 o'clock on Sunday morning. 
 
 Sunday I went to hear Stopford Brooke, at St. 
 James's Chapel in the morning, and Dean Stanley 
 at Westminster Abbey in the afternoon. It was a 
 beautiful day. Monday morning we went down town 
 to the bankers, and then to the picture galleries, 
 
156 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 
 
 and in the afternoon drove in Hyde Park to see the 
 swells. We engaged passage on the Oder for Chris- 
 tiania, which sails next Friday morning. We shall 
 arrive there on Monday evening, the 15th. We also 
 engaged passage on the Thuringia from Hamburg 
 for New York on September 11. To-day we have 
 been sight-seeing, — the great South Kensington Mu- 
 seum and the International Exhibition with the new 
 Memorial, which has just been opened, having been 
 built by Queen Victoria in memory of Prince Albert. 
 It is a very gorgeous and beautiful affair. 
 
 Wednesday Evening, July 10, 1872. 
 
 Just here Frederick turned up, and from that time 
 to this I have had his company. He is well, has 
 enjoyed his voyage very much, and takes to traveling 
 like a fish. He and I have scoured London to-day, 
 called on the Archbishop of Canterbury, examined 
 the British Museum and Westminster Abbey, visited 
 Hyde Park, and this evening we have been to a con- 
 cert at the splendid new Albert Hall. He means if 
 possible to return with us in the Thuringia, but there 
 is some uncertainty about getting staterooms. We 
 shall know in a week or so. 
 
 So the two great family trips are launched for the 
 summer, and promise to go on well. You shall hear 
 from point to point how we are faring. I do not feel 
 as if these few days in London were really a part of it, 
 and shall not think that we are fairly beginning until 
 we are aboard the steamer for Christiania to-morrow 
 night. London seems too familiar, and, with all its 
 strangeness, a little too much like home to be really 
 abroad. It has grown enormously since I was here in 
 1865, and is simply too big to know much about in 
 
LILLEHAMMER. 157 
 
 two or three years, so that two or three days in it 
 go for very little. 
 
 I am sorry to see what hot weather you have been 
 having in Boston. I hope it is only the working off 
 of heat for the whole summer, and that you will 
 have it cool the rest of the time. Here the weather 
 is delicious, — bright, cool, sunshiny days that quite 
 disappoint one's ordinary expectations of London. 
 
 Already I begin to feel how good it will be to 
 get home. 
 
 LiLLEHAMMEB, NORWAY, July 16, 1872. 
 
 Dear "William, — I have written to you in the 
 course of our correspondence from many queer places, 
 but perhaps this to-night is the queerest of them all. 
 It is the neatest, triggest, cosiest little Norwegian inn, 
 one day's journey from Christiania, just set in among 
 the mountains at the head of lake Mjosen. The peo- 
 ple in the courtyard under the windows are jabbering 
 Norwegian and getting the horses ready for our cari- 
 oles, which set out to-morrow morning at half past 
 five. It is half past nine o'clock in the evening, and 
 broad daylight, so that a candle would be an absurdity. 
 Last night at Christiania, I literally read a letter in 
 the street at eleven o'clock, as you would at noon in 
 Boston. 
 
 But I must go back. Last Thursday evening I 
 left Frederick in London, and went on board the 
 steamer Oder for Christiania, which sailed the next 
 morning at four o'clock. We had a pleasant little 
 voyage of three days and a half across the North Sea 
 and up the Skager Rack, touching on Sunday morn- 
 ing at Christiansand, and arriving on Monday at 
 Christiania. The steamer was good, the sea smooth. 
 
158 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 
 
 and all went very pleasantly. The sail along the Nor- 
 wegian coast and up the Christiania Fiord was very 
 beautiful. At Christiania, which is a very pretty, 
 pleasant place, we spent yesterday, got our carioles, 
 which are the j oiliest-looking traps you can imagine, 
 this morning took them on the train, and then on the 
 boat upon the lake to this village. To-morrow morn- 
 ing we mount them for our first drive into the country. 
 I wish that you could see us pass. Much more, I 
 wish there were a third cariole, and you were in it. 
 
 I wonder how Fred comes on. He seemed to be 
 having a good time. I went with him to several of 
 the great sights of London, which he appeared to en- 
 joy, and was in good health and spirits. I hope he 
 will find some companion for the Continent, for I am 
 afraid he will be a little homesick sometimes, if he 
 does not. He hopes to return with us in the Thurin- 
 gia from Havre, September 14. 
 
 Will you do something for me ? Will you go and 
 see Mr. James T. Fields, and ask him (as I shall be 
 rather later than I expected in getting home) to put 
 my lecture on English Literature as late in the course 
 as possible ? — at the very end if he can. I think he 
 will have no trouble in doing it. 
 
 No letters from you yet. I hope many are on the 
 way, but we shall not get them till we come to Bergen 
 some time next week ; but do keep on writing, and 
 tell all the news, little and great. I hope you are 
 having a pleasant summer. . . . 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 Phillips. 
 
AAK. 159 
 
 Aak, Norway, July 22, 1872. 
 
 Dear Father, — We have been spending Sunday 
 at this remote little place in the mountains, at the 
 mouth of the Romsdaal Valley, which is one of the 
 most remarkable gorges in Norway. We came here 
 in a three days' journey from Lillehammer, whence I 
 wrote to William last Wednesday. The traveling is 
 very odd. We have our own carioles, which we took 
 with us from Christiania, having hired them for a 
 month. In these we travel about fifty miles a day. 
 The cariole is a sort of sulky, something like a 
 country doctor's chaise, with just room for one person 
 and a place to strap on a valise behind. The roads 
 have stations every ten miles or so, where the people 
 are obliged to furnish you a change of horse, which 
 you take on to the next station. A small boy goes 
 perched on the baggage behind to bring the horse 
 back. In this way we are always changing horses. 
 I have driven some twenty or thirty already, mostly 
 strong, willing little brutes, who make very good time 
 and do not seem to mind my overweight. The road 
 has been very beautiful; last evening's ride, espe- 
 cially, was most magnificent, through the gorge of 
 Komsdaal. There is nothing in Switzerland like it. 
 Our weather has been generally excellent, with occa- 
 sional showers which have not hurt us, nor delayed us 
 much. It is a land where it makes not the slightest 
 difference when you travel, for it is broad daylight 
 all night, being literally light enough to read easily in 
 the open air at midnight. The only trouble is to get 
 to sleep at night with the daylight in the room, 
 and to keep asleep in the morning. 
 
 This morning we walked about three miles to a 
 Norwegian country church, and attended service there. 
 
160 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 
 
 It was very interesting. The little chiircli was 
 crowded and the service was full of spirit. The ser- 
 mon was dreadfully long, at least to us who listened 
 to it as foreigners, and did not understand a word. 
 After service there was a baptism of two babies, and 
 then the catechising of the girls and boys of the 
 parish — funny little folks they were ! The people all 
 belong to the Lutheran church, which is the Estab- 
 lislied Church of the Kingdom. They are a most 
 thrifty, decent, poverty-stricken people, perfectly 
 honest, and not at all handsome. 
 
 I wish that you could see the view as I look out of 
 my window. The vaUey is completely shut in by 
 mountains of the most gigantic size, and splendid 
 in their shapes. A beautiful green river runs down 
 through it, and the fields in the bottom of the vaUey 
 are green and rich. A pair of carioles has just driven 
 up to the little inn door, and the people are chat- 
 tering in Norse about rooms and suppers in the 
 most excited way. 
 
 To-morrow morning we take a little steamer very 
 early to go to Molde, down one of the most beautiful 
 fiords ; then we shall keep down the coast to Bergen, 
 exploring the fiords as we go along; from Bergen 
 back across the country to Christiania, where we 
 shall be in about three weeks ; then to Stocldiolm, 
 St. Petersburg, Moscow, Copenhagen, Hamburg ; and 
 then home. Nothing from Fred; you have heard 
 from him of course. Love to aU. 
 
 Most affectionately yours, Phillips. 
 
STEAMER FJALIR. 161 
 
 Steamer Fjamb, on the Nord Fiord, Norway, 
 July 25, 1872. 
 
 Dear Mother, — It is a rainy forenoon on a steam- 
 boat, and there is nothing pleasanter than to sit in the 
 little cabin and write my weekly letter to you, although 
 it is before its time. We are on our way to Bergen, 
 running down one of the countless fiords that cut up 
 the coast of Norway into slices. Last Sunday after- 
 noon, I wrote to father from Aak, at the foot of the 
 Romsdaal Valley. Monday morning, we drove in our 
 carioles down to the head of the Molde Fiord, and 
 there, carioles and all, went on a boat, and sailed, 
 in the midst of the grandest scenery, to Molde, where 
 we stopped a couple of hours and dined on salmon 
 and lobster, which are about the only things that 
 grow along this coast. Both are superb. That after- 
 noon, we sailed along the coast to Aalsund, a little 
 village with a most lovely situation, which is famous 
 for nothing except the cod -liver oil which they make 
 there. We passed the night in short beds, and the 
 next day sailed up the Stor Fiord and its branch, the 
 Geiranger Fiord, which is called the grandest in 
 Norway. It is certainly magnificent. The narrow 
 arm of the sea, with bright green water, is shut in 
 between perpendicular cliffs of granite, two or three 
 thousand feet high, over which countless waterfalls 
 come tumbling down in every conceivable shape. The 
 stillness and wildness is wonderfully impressive. We 
 spent that night at a little group of fishermen's huts, 
 and slept in a schoolhouse, because the inn, which only 
 has six beds, was full. We called on the Pastor of 
 the place, and spent an hour with him. He is the 
 only educated man of the whole region, and was very 
 hospitable and conversible, speaking very tolerable 
 
162 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 
 
 English. Yesterday morning, we put the wheels on 
 our carioles again, and drove all day across the coun- 
 try, through magnificent scenery, to a little inn called 
 Faleide, on this Fiord, where last night we took the 
 boat for Bergen. The cabin is full of Norwegians, 
 talking their unintelligible tongue. There is one Ger- 
 man family from Hamburg, who are pleasant people, 
 and with whom, between their English and our 
 German, we get along very well. To-morrow noon 
 we reach Bergen, and there I hope to get my first 
 letters from you all. After a day or two, we start 
 again into the country, and spend two weeks more 
 before we come back to Christiania. About the 12th 
 of August we leave Christiania for Sweden, going to 
 Stockholm. On the 22d we go to St. Petersburg and 
 Moscow, returning the first week in September. We 
 sail from St. Petersburg by Lubec to Copenhagen, 
 and thence go down to Hamburg and take the Thu- 
 ringia, either there on the 11th, or at Havre on the 
 14th. So all goes well. I am having a splendid 
 time. This rain, I have no doubt, will clear up to- 
 morrow, and with much love to all, I am always 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Steamer between Bergen and Christiania, 
 July 27, 1872. 
 
 Since I wrote the inclosed sheet, our plans have 
 chansred. . . . Paine has been called home. We are 
 now on our way to Christiania, and he will stop on his 
 way at Christiansand, go thence to Hamburg, and so 
 home by next week's steamer. I shall go to Chris- 
 tiania, to take back our carioles and close up things 
 there. I am not quite sure what I shall do after- 
 
STOCKHOLM, 163 
 
 wards ; probably go to Sweden, and thence cross into 
 Russia, and come home by way of some of the north- 
 ern German cities. 
 
 We are having quite a royal progress to-day. Prince 
 Oscar, brother of the king, is on board, and at every 
 town where we stop, there is a boisterous welcome and 
 farewell. Good-by again, and write often. 
 
 Hotel Rydberg, Stockholm, August 4, 1872. 
 
 Dear William, — The stream of communication 
 this summer seems to flow all one way. Since father's 
 letter, dated just a month ago to-day, there is not a 
 word from my beloved family, or anybody else in 
 America. I hope they are well, but either they have 
 not written, or Jay Cooke is faithless, or I have 
 been running about too fast for letters to catch me. 
 I hope Fred has been more fortunate than I. Here I 
 am now in Stockholm, one of the nicest, brightest, 
 gayest looking cities I have ever seen. I am very 
 much delighted with it. It runs all about over a 
 quantity of islands, in Venetian sort of style, and little 
 bits of steamboats go racing back and forth. The peo- 
 ple are bright and good-looking, and there are gardens 
 and cafes everywhere. Friday evening, I went to the 
 Deer Park to a concert, and the whole scene was as 
 pretty as anything in Paris or Vienna. After I wrote 
 last week, I came back to Christiania, and thence 
 sailed down to Gottenburg, and thence by the Gotha 
 canal here. It was a lovely day on the canal, and the 
 scenery was very pretty. Yesterday, I went to Upsala, 
 where is the great Swedish university, the old cathe- 
 dral, and the oldest relics of their history. Under 
 three great mounds, their Odin, Thor, and Freia are 
 said to be buried. 
 
164 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 
 
 To-morrow morning, I am going off to Gottland, 
 where there are some strange old relics of architec- 
 ture, and the whole place is said to be very picturesque 
 and curious. It is a trip of two or three days, and 
 then I come back here. After that, probably to Rus- 
 sia, where I expect to arrive next Sunday. 
 
 There are very few Americans in these parts, — a 
 good many English, and lots of Swedes. I like the 
 Swedes very much. They are brighter and more 
 cheerful than the Norwegians, and very kind and will- 
 ing to oblige. The country seems prosperous and 
 happy. The environs of Stockholm are beautiful. 
 Come here, and look at this pretty town, when you 
 bring Mary and Agnes to Europe. 
 
 I hope they are well, and that you are not having 
 the absurdly hot weather with which you began the 
 summer. Already, we are within sight of the end 
 of it. How strange it will seem to be settled down 
 again to the old round for another winter. Paine is 
 on his voyage home by this time. I suppose you 
 may see him before this reaches you. If you have 
 not written to me, pray write, and if you have written, 
 write again, Phillips. 
 
 Abo, Finland, August 10, 1872. 
 Dear Father, — Did you ever get a letter from 
 Finland ? If not, then here comes your first. I write 
 in the sincere belief that I am answering some letters 
 of yours, although I have not received them. Some- 
 how, I have missed everything since your letters of 
 July 4th. I hope nothing important has happened 
 since that time. If there has, I do not know where I 
 shall hear of it. Perhaps at St. Petersburg, whither 
 I am bound now. But I must wait patiently. I left 
 
ABO. 165 
 
 Stockholm yesterday morning, in the steamer Con- 
 stantin, at two o'clock. 
 
 Steamers have an uncomfortable habit of starting 
 at that hour all over these parts. The boat is excel- 
 lent; all sorts of languages, Russian, Swedish, Fin- 
 nish, French, and German, are chattering around me. 
 There are also three or four Englishmen on board. 
 To-day's sail has been exquisite, wandering through 
 the islands of which this part of the Baltic is full, 
 with views continually changing, and all pretty. At 
 five this afternoon we came to Abo, at the mouth 
 of the Gulf of Finland, and there we lie to-night. 
 The steamers always lie by until two in the morning. 
 To-morrow, we wind up the gulf among the islands. 
 To-morrow night at Helsingfors, Sunday night at 
 Vyborg, and Monday noon, the 12th, at St. Peters- 
 burg. The Fins are a good, dull, rude-looking people. 
 We went ashore this afternoon and saw the strange 
 old town. Nothing could be more foreign or pictur- 
 esque. It was odd to find one's self for the first time 
 in the Czar's dominions, but all his folks were very 
 civil and seemed glad to see us. 
 
 I made this week a very interesting two-days' trip 
 to the old town of Wisby and the Island of Gothland. 
 It was a twelve hours' sail down the Baltic at night. 
 In the morning, we reached the island, and saw the 
 old waUed town, which was once a place of great trade 
 and importance, but now in decay. The most inter- 
 esting things in it are a dozen old ruined Gothic 
 churches, some of them quite unique in architecture, 
 and aU showing the taste and wealth of the old times. 
 At present, the island is something of a siunmer resort 
 for Stockholm people. 
 
 We took a long drive back into the country, through 
 
166 SUMMER TN NORTHERN EUROPE. 
 
 rich farms and pleasant hills, the whole a picture of 
 quiet, primitive, pastoral simplicity, which was very 
 attractive. Another night's sail brought us back to 
 Stockholm, which is a most beautiful city, and after 
 another day there, I sailed on this slow and pleas- 
 ant cruise for St. Petersburg. 
 
 Since Paine left me, two weeks ago, I am alone, but 
 meet companions often from point to point. There 
 are almost no Americans in these parts. It seems 
 a long way from home. I shall spend two or three 
 weeks in Russia, going to Moscow, and perhaps to 
 Nijni-Novgorod ; then to Berlin, Lubeck, and Copen- 
 hagen, and so to Hamburg, whence I sail for New 
 York, on September 11. . . . After you get this, di- 
 rect your letters to Hamburg. I shall get them 
 sooner. 
 
 I am very well and having a first-rate time. Have 
 not had a hot day this summer. I hope you are all 
 well and happy, and with much love to all, I am 
 most sincerely your son, Phillips. 
 
 Moscow, August 18, 1872. 
 
 Dear Mother, — Last Sunday, when I wrote to 
 father, we were crossing the Gulf of Finland, making 
 for St. Petersburg. We passed the great fortifications 
 at Cronstadt, and landed at the city Sunday even- 
 ing ; the next three days I spent in seeing the great 
 capital. Everytliing in it is on the most enormous 
 scale. Its palaces, the biggest and most gorgeous; 
 its churches, the richest; its squares, the most mag- 
 nificent in Europe. Its great church of St. Isaak 
 is a wonder of marble, gold, and jewels. It cost 
 135,000,000, or about one hundred and fifty of the 
 new Trinity. The picture gaUery is one of the great- 
 
MOSCOW, 167 
 
 est of the world, with some pictures one cannot see 
 anywhere else. The whole country about the city is 
 full of magnificent palaces, with splendid grounds and 
 fountains, where one goes in the afternoon, and hears 
 bands play in the evening, and takes a quiet sail on 
 the Neva back to St. Petersburg, with the moon 
 shining on the golden domes. What do you think 
 of that? 
 
 Grand as St. Petersburg is, it is only the vestibule 
 to Moscow. You come here by rail, a long, dreary 
 ride of twenty hours, with poor sleeping cars, for which 
 you pay fifteen dollars. This Russia is the most ex- 
 pensive country I have ever traveled in. But when 
 you get here, you are in the midst of picturesqueness 
 such as you can see nowhere else. Think of three 
 hundred domes and spires, all different, all gold or 
 silver, blue or green, with golden stars, crosses, and 
 crescents, and blazing under the intense sun that 
 beats down on this plain. Yesterday afternoon, I 
 drove out to a hill near the city, the hill from which 
 Napoleon first saw it, and the view, as it lay glittering 
 in the afternoon sun, was like fairyland. Then you 
 step inside a church or palace, and it is all brilliant 
 with gold ; barbarous in taste, but very gorgeous. The 
 streets are full of splendor and squalidness, all mixed 
 together. First the grand coach and splendid horses 
 of a nobleman, and then the wretched procession of 
 convicts, chained together, men and women, starting 
 off on their long journey to Siberia. Everything has 
 the look of semi-civilization, exceedingly interesting, 
 though not attractive ; but a country with some vast 
 future before it, certainly. 
 
 I hope you are all well, but I have not heard yet, 
 nor shall I for a couple of weeks. I have been very 
 
168 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 
 
 unfortunate, but your letters at the last must reach me 
 at Copenhagen. The last tidings I had were dated 
 only a week after I sailed. It has detracted much 
 from the pleasure of my journey, which otherwise has 
 been very delightful. The weather here is exquisite. 
 I see no Americans and few English. I have been 
 with an Englishman, but leave him to-morrow to go to 
 the Great Fair at Nijni-Novgorod, where we have only 
 the company of a French interpreter. Thence, in the 
 last part of the week, I begin to turn my feet west- 
 ward; next Sunday, I shall probably write to you 
 from somewhere outside of Russia. Love to all. 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Hotel du Nord, BERiJif, 
 
 August 25, 1872. 
 
 Dear William, — I remember very well writing a 
 letter to you from tliis very hotel seven years ago. 
 It was about the beginning of my first trip to Europe. 
 There have been several changes since then, and I 
 hope for the better. I reached here only this morn- 
 ing, and find Berlin the same bright, cheerful-looking, 
 great city I remember it. It has gi'own and improved 
 immensely. Everywhere you feel that you are in the 
 midst of a very great, strong, seK-assured Empire. 
 Prussia is certainly the biggest thing in Europe to-day. 
 But Russia is not to be sneezed at, either. 
 
 I was at Moscow when I wrote last. From there I 
 went on a trip to Nijni-Novgorod, on the Volga, where 
 the great annual Fair is being held. It is about 
 twelve hours from Moscow, and quite in the centre of 
 Russia, so that the journey there and back gives one a 
 chance to see much of the country. Vast numbers of 
 
BERLIN. 169 
 
 people gather every year from the east and west, and set 
 up a whole city of temporary shops for three months, 
 on a low, sandy point of land, at the meeting of 
 the Volga and the Oka. The crowd is most curious 
 and picturesque. Persians, Tartars, Armenians, Chi- 
 nese, Caucasians, Jews, and Europeans of every sort ; 
 with all their various goods — teas, skins, fruits, car- 
 pets, great miles of iron from Siberia, and wheat from 
 the Black Sea, — every language and dress you can 
 picture. All this goes on for three months, and then 
 they shut up shop and go home, and the place is de- 
 serted until the next year. 
 
 The Fair was in full blast this week, and I saw it 
 to good advantage. Then I came back to Moscow, 
 spent another day, and saw the wonders of the Krem- 
 lin again. Then to St. Petersburg and to Warsaw, 
 where I had a day, and a very pleasant one. It is a 
 bright, live city, with fine buildings and beautiful pal- 
 aces and gardens. I liked what I saw of the Poles 
 very much indeed. Yesterday I left Warsaw at three, 
 and reached here this morning at five. I went to 
 church this morning and heard a very poor sermon. 
 I hope you had a better one in Trinity. Now I am 
 going to Lubeck and thence to Copenhagen. I sail 
 from Hamburg two weeks from next Wednesday. . . . 
 I shall be glad to be at home and at work again, though 
 very sorry to break off this pleasant life. . . . 
 
 Is it really true that Greeley stands a good chance 
 for th3 Presidency ? 
 
 My kind love to Mary, Agnes, and all at home. 
 Thanks for the letters which you have written. 
 
 Yours always, Phillips. 
 
170 SUMMER IN NORTHERN EUROPE. 
 
 Hamburg, September 1, 1872. 
 
 Dear Father, — I feel as if I owed you and mo- 
 ther about a dozen letters to-day, for since last Sun- 
 day I have been wonderfully blessed in the way of 
 hearing from you. At Copenhagen I received eight- 
 een letters, the accumulation of the summer, and now 
 I understand aU about you and your doings up to 
 August 16. You must have had a frightful sum- 
 mer, with the heat and the thunder-storms. I am 
 sorry for the discomfort you must have suffered, but 
 glad of the philosophy with which you seem to have 
 borne it. 
 
 I passed a day in Berlin, and then went to Lu- 
 beck, where I stayed another day. It is a picturesque 
 old place, the most old-fashioned town in northern 
 Europe, and I had a good time there. Then a pleas- 
 ant sail of fifteen hours carried me to Copenhagen, 
 where I spent three days. It is full of interest. The 
 Museum of Northern Antiquities is something quite 
 unique. I had a letter from Mr. Winthrop to the Di- 
 rector, Professor W , but found that he had gone 
 
 away to the Archaeological Congress at Brussels, but 
 the letter secured me a reception by one of his assist- 
 ants, who went carefully with me through the museum. 
 I found also in Copenhagen a gentleman with whom I 
 crossed in the Hammonia two years ago, who was very 
 hospitable, and so I enjoyed the place very much. I 
 bought one or two pieces of old carved furniture, 
 which will be at home by and by. One day I went 
 to Elsinore, and saw the ships in the Straits, and 
 walked on the platform where Hamlet met the ghost. 
 The great Exhibition is open at Copenhagen, and I 
 saw the King, aU the royal people, and the Princess 
 
HAMBURG, 171 
 
 of Wales. Last night I came thence by rail and 
 boat to this great town. Among my letters was one 
 from Fred, who wanted me to meet him in Paris, 
 and I think I shall do so. I have thought of going 
 back to Berlin for the great review next Saturday, but 
 I shall give that up, a noble sacrifice to fraternal affec- 
 tion. I shall go by way of the Rhine, and next Sun- 
 day Frederick and I will be at the H6tel du Louvre, 
 Paris. Two weeks from to-day we shall be on the 
 Thuringia. ... 
 
 Your affectionate son, Phillips. 
 
FROM LONDON TO VENICE. 
 1874. 
 
 Albemarle Hotel, London, 
 Sunday morning, July 19, 1874. 
 
 Dear William, — This Sunday morning, your at- 
 mosphere must be a great deal clearer than the smoky 
 London air in which I am looking out, through which 
 I can just tell that it is a very pleasant day. I hope 
 you will have a good Simday. . . . 
 
 Your letter, which came day before yesterday, was 
 the first that reached me, and was a most welcome be- 
 ginning to the new spell of correspondence. It seems 
 curious to staii; it off again for the fourth time. This 
 trip, so far, has been a little different from the others. 
 I have seen something more of people and received 
 more hospitality than when I have been in England be- 
 fore. Everybody has been most cordial and civil. . . . 
 What I have seen have been mostly clerical circles, but 
 in some ways clergymen and laymen are more mixed 
 up and have more common interests here than in 
 America. For instance, all are excited now about the 
 Public Worship Bill. They talk of it at dinner, and 
 write of it in the newspapers in a way that much sur- 
 prises us, who ordinarily leave such things to our 
 Bishop and the people who go to the General Conven- 
 tion. It seems now as if the Bill would become a law, 
 and it is hard to believe that it can do much good. 
 
 I have seen a good deal of London over again with 
 
MORLAIX. 173 
 
 Arthur. There are many things in it that never tire, 
 and the great city seems to grow more and more enor- 
 mous every time we come. Last Monday we went all 
 over Westminster Abbey with Dean Stanley, who 
 knows it as well as I know the Technological Hall. 
 It was a very interesting morning, and I wished you 
 were there. I preached there the evening before to 
 such a crowd, and under such a roof, and among such 
 columns and monuments as one does not often see. 
 On Tuesday I went to the annual dinner of the sing- 
 ing people of the Abbey, in the Jerusalem Chamber, 
 where we did all kinds of queer old English customs, 
 sang, and made speeches till ever so late. I was the 
 only one of the preachers of the year present, and had 
 to speak for them all. Think of speaking for Bishops 
 and Archbishops! . . . 
 
 On Friday, Arthur and I went to a dinner at Mr. 
 Freemantle's, who was in America last year. Arthur 
 sat next to Lady Augusta Stanley, the Dean's wife. 
 He (Arthur) has been off for four days on a cathe- 
 dral trip, and I have been visiting in the country. 
 To-day I am to preach in St. Philip's Eegent Street, 
 for Mr. Leathes, whom I saw in America last year. 
 To-morrow morning we leave for France by New Haven 
 and Dieppe, and begin at once on Normandy. How 
 I wish you were here. Shall we not come together 
 some day ? Write me punctually, and I will always 
 answer. Affectionately, Phill. 
 
 MoBLAix, Fbancb, July 28, 18Y4. 
 
 Dear Mother, — Arthur says this is a "dutiful 
 scene." He is sitting on one side of a wretched little 
 table, in this quaint old hotel, writing to John, and I 
 am just beginning this note to you upon the other 
 
174 FROM LONDON TO VENICE. 
 
 side. I dare say our letters will be very much alike, 
 for there is nothing to tell, except where we have been 
 and what we have seen ; that is rich enough. A week 
 ago yesterday we crossed from New Haven to Dieppe, 
 and had a very beautiful voyage. The sea was calm 
 and bright ; the coast that we left and the coast to 
 which we came, both were beautiful. Then we went 
 up to Rouen, and spent a lovely day among its old 
 Gothic architecture. There is nothing more beauti- 
 ful in Europe. Then we struck off into the coun- 
 try, and for a week we have been wandering around 
 among old Norman towns, each odder and more 
 picturesque than any that have gone before. Pont- 
 Audemer, Lisieux, Caen, Bayeux, St. Lo, Coutances, 
 Granville, Avranches, Pont Orson, Dol, Rennes, Mor- 
 laix, these are mere names to you, as they were a week 
 ago to us, but now they are all places to remember, — 
 old towns, each with its churches six or eight hundred 
 years old, some with magnificent cathedrals, and all 
 with curious houses tumbling out over the streets, and 
 carved from top to bottom with the queerest figures in 
 their oak timbers, apostles, prophets, martyrs, dragons, 
 donkeys, trees, soldiers, and great wreaths of flowers. 
 The streets themselves are full of interesting people, 
 doing the oddest things. Women with high, white 
 caps, men with wooden shoes clattering along the pave- 
 ments, children playing strange games, and donkeys 
 laboring along with loads three times as big as them- 
 selves. 
 
 All the places are full of history. Here William the 
 Conqueror was bom, and here he was buried ; here the 
 Huguenots once burned the church, and there the Roy- 
 alists withstood the Republicans in the French Revo- 
 lution. All this makes Boston seem far away, and 
 
TOURS, 175 
 
 the sense of vacation very complete. To-day we 
 passed from Normandy to Brittany, a rougher, ruder 
 country, and a wilder people. Last Sunday we spent 
 at Granville, a curious French watering-place upon 
 the coast, and after a service in the old cathedral, we 
 bathed and swam from the great beach. Arthur is 
 well, and seems to enjoy it all. To-night we received 
 letters up to July 9. Here are some nice old people 
 and " Little Wanderers " from Brittany. Are n't they 
 pretty ? Love to all. Write often. 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Tours, Tuesday Evening, August 4, 1874. 
 
 Dear William, — Here I have just received your 
 second letter, full of pleasant talk, and telling every 
 kind of interesting thing about Andover, Mary, and 
 all the other people. I was glad to get it. For a 
 week we have wandered on through Brittany, looked 
 at old castles and cathedrals, and talked together 
 about you all, but have heard nothing since last Tues- 
 day evening. Arthur receives no end of newspaper 
 cuttings, telling about the great Chicago fire, but my 
 only home letter is yours, and I am satisfied. I won- 
 der if you have followed us upon the map ? We have 
 rounded the promontory of Finisterre, out on the 
 northern side almost to Brest, as far as St. Pol de 
 Leon and Lesneven ; then down to Quimper, and by 
 Auray and Carnac to Angers, where we spent last 
 Sunday. To-day, our trip has been to Poitiers, and 
 here we are to-night at Tours. It has been almost 
 exactly the journey which I laid out at my table in 
 the Kempton, and has proved about the best that 
 could be made. I have been amazed at the richness 
 of the old architecture of the country. In little out 
 
176 FROM LONDON TO VENICE. 
 
 of the way villages, reached only by rickety country 
 wagons, we have found glorious and immense churches 
 of the rarest beauty, — churches that took centuries to 
 build, and stand to-day perfect in their splendor, with 
 wonderful glass in their windows, and columns and 
 capitals that take your breath away for beauty. The 
 people of Brittany are rough enough, and some of the 
 inns at which we spent the night were dirty and for- 
 lorn ; but the people were always kind and civil, and 
 did their best to make us comfoi-table. They show 
 clearly enough that they are of the old Celtic stock, 
 true cousins of the Irishmen we know so well. We 
 had some drives, and we met laborers by the score, 
 who might easily have been turning up the bog in 
 Ireland, or driving a dirt cart among the ruins of 
 Fort HiU. They are a very devout folk, even to 
 superstition, and altogether interesting and filthy. 
 
 Now we are out of Brittany, and making our way 
 from town to town along the splendid valley of the 
 Loire. There is a cathedral here in Tours (with 
 twin towers) that staggers you with its splendor, as 
 you come suddenly out of a little dark, crooked street 
 and stand in front of it. Yesterday, Le Mans had 
 another, and to-day Poitiers was wonderfully rich. All 
 the while your letters come in most welcome, and are 
 better than cathedrals. Now you must be just about 
 going up to Andover and cooling yourseK after a hot 
 day. My blessing to you always, and to Mary and 
 the bairns. Do not forget to write. Yours always, 
 
 P. 
 
 Venice, Friday Evening, August 21, 1874. 
 
 Dear William, — I fully expected, when we arrived 
 here this afternoon, to find a letter from you, and per- 
 
VENICE. 177 
 
 haps from some of the other good folks at home, but 
 they had not come, so this goes not as answer to any- 
 thing in particular, but only to tell you generally how 
 we fare. We have reached the Adriatic. After two 
 days in Milan, we rode to-day across the beautiful 
 plain of northern Italy, and came in over the Lagune 
 to this wonderful city. It is nine years since I was 
 here, but the city, which has stood for more than nine 
 hundred years, has not changed much since I saw it 
 last. St. Mark's is just where I left it in the great 
 square, and the gondoliers are singing and rowing in 
 the canal under my windows, just as of old. It has 
 been a varied enough trip that we have taken, London, 
 Brittany, Paris, Switzerland, and Italy. It has been 
 delightful. We have been rather too much hurried ; 
 I think we shall stay here for a week, and see the 
 strange old city thoroughly. Arthur is enjoying it 
 very much. 
 
 The hotel here is full of English and American 
 people. At the table to-day everybody, except one, 
 talked English ; but there is nobody we ever saw be- 
 fore, and we still make each other's company. I 
 wonder if you have had a pleasant summer ? In spite 
 of all the delight of this sort of life, it wiU not be bad 
 to get back again, settle down, and talk it over in 
 West Cedar Street or Berkeley Street. 
 
 . . . The news from home seems quiet, except that 
 I see there is more trouble at the South. 
 
 Four weeks from to-day I shall be on the ocean, 
 and six weeks from to-day I will spend the evening 
 with you if you wiU ask me. My kindest love to 
 Mary, the babies, and all at home. 
 
 Yours most affectionately, P. 
 
178 FROM LONDON TO VENICE. 
 
 Sunday, August 23, 1874. 
 
 Dear Father, — This has been Sunday in Ven- 
 ice. This morning, we set out like good boys to go 
 to church, but when our gondola reached the palace 
 on the Grand Canal where service is wont to be held, 
 we found a man upon the steps to say there was no 
 service because the chaplain had gone into the coun- 
 try. It sounded very much like what might be said 
 upon the steps of Technological Hall ; so Arthur and 
 I made a round of the great churches, and looked at 
 the pictures in them until dinner time. K we did not 
 go to church, we went to churches. This evening, 
 the moon is splendid on the water, and we took a 
 gondola again, and rowed round about the beautiful 
 old place for an hour. That has been our Sunday. 
 We are lying by at Venice for refreshment, and no- 
 thing could be more delightful. The weather is ex- 
 quisite, cool, clear, and cloudless. The pictures are 
 glorious, and you do not walk anywhere, because 
 you cannot, but are rowed wherever you want to go 
 in the most luxurious style. 
 
 We came here over the Alps and by Milan. There 
 we spent two days, about one of which I wrote last 
 night, a letter which you will see by and by in the 
 "Standard of the Cross." We shall stay here till 
 Thursday or Friday, and then start through the 
 Tyrol, slowly, by way of Munich and the Rhine, to 
 Paris. Three weeks from Thursday we sail. On the 
 8th of September we mean to reach Paris. Think of 
 us there. 
 
 I wonder what you are doing ; how I wish you were 
 here to see the Ducal Palace with us to-morrow. It 
 would be great fim, too, to see the gondolas go out. 
 I have seen nothing of the Winthrops, but have had a 
 
MAYENCE. 179 
 
 letter from Mrs. Winthrop, who is in Germany. My 
 love to all. P. 
 
 Matence, September 4, 1874. 
 
 Dear William, — Let me see. The last time I 
 wrote to you I was in the top story of a hotel at 
 Venice, looking down upon the Grand Canal. To- 
 night, I am in the top story of a hotel at Mayence, 
 looking down upon the Rhine. From Italy to Ger- 
 many ! The change is complete enough, but the two 
 evening views out of the windows are not so unlike. "We 
 have come up through the Tyrol, over the great Am- 
 pezzo Pass that I have long wanted to see, and which we 
 saw pretty well. There was more or less of rain to 
 keep the magnificent Dolomites from showing their 
 most splendid heads, but on the whole the three days 
 were a success, and brought us by Innsbruck to 
 Munich, where we spent Sunday and Monday. I 
 have been there several times before, but it is a bright, 
 cheery city, full of art treasures, which I do not care 
 how often I see. Then we went to Ratisbon, and to 
 Nuremberg, which was quaint and lovely. They were 
 celebrating Sedan, and the gray old town was gay 
 with colored banners and flowers. Then there was a 
 queer Fourth-of-Julyish procession in the afternoon, 
 and the boys sang the " Wacht am Rhein" about the 
 streets all the evening. After that we went to Hei- 
 delberg, and saw the grand old castle, the noblest 
 thing of its sort in Europe. To-day, we came up to 
 Worms and saw the cathedral, and thought of Luther 
 at the Diet, and this afternoon we journeyed on to 
 this place ; to-morrow, go down the Rhine to Cologne, 
 where we shall spend Sunday. 
 
 So our faces are set homeward, and ten days after 
 
180 FROM LONDON TO VENICE. 
 
 you get this you will get us, if the Siberia goes well. 
 We have not seen any one we know since we left 
 Venice, but all around us the papers tell of multi- 
 tudes of our countrymen having their good time. I 
 wonder whether they all enjoy it as much as I do. 
 Sometimes, especially when I read home papers (and 
 I thank you for those you sent me last), I grow 
 conscience-stricken and restless, and want to be at 
 work ; then I make up my mind to work all the harder 
 when I reach home, and thus dismiss the anxiety and 
 go on my easy way. 
 
 I hear that father and mother will stay another 
 year in Hancock Street. ... I think it is the best 
 plan, and we will still climb the hill to see them. I 
 shall be glad enough to see you as we draw up at East 
 Boston. My brotherly love to M. 
 
 Affectionately, Phillips. 
 
ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT. 
 1877. 
 
 London, July 4, 1877. 
 
 Dear Father, — Hurrah for the Fourth of July ! 
 William has gone for a day or two by himself on a 
 trip to see cathedrals, and I have no doubt is enjoying 
 everything between here and Durham. I think he 
 will be back to-night, and then we shall keep together 
 for the rest of the time. Since we arrived and came 
 to London, we have been very busy. William has 
 been doing the sights, and I have been about with him 
 most of the time. Last Saturday we went down to 
 Salisbury and spent a delightful Sunday in that quiet, 
 little cathedral town. In the afternoon we drove out 
 to Stonehenge, which is, I think, the best thing to see 
 in England. It is so old that it would puzzle the 
 Historical Society itself. 
 
 I left William there and came back to London early 
 Monday morning to go and lunch with some parsons. 
 Indeed, I have been parsoning a good deal of the 
 time. We are to dine with Dean Stanley on Saturda}^ 
 evening, and I am to preach for him in the Abbey on 
 Sunday morning. This evening I am to dine with 
 Mr. Pierrepont, the American minister. I suppose 
 General Grant will be there. What a time he has 
 been having here. 
 
 . . . To-day I have been at Convocation, or sort of 
 General Convention of the Diocese of Canterbury, 
 
182 ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT. 
 
 though they are wholly clergymen, no laymen. To-day 
 they have been discussing confession, and ended in a 
 vote by a large majority on the Protestant side. 
 
 Friday night we have an order for the House of 
 Lords and House of Commons. So you see we are 
 having a good, busy time. Monday morning we leave 
 for the Continent and then our real traveling begins. 
 I hope that you are getting better and better all the 
 time. Do not forget that you and mother are to come 
 and spend two weeks with me at 175 Marlboro' Street. 
 My kindest love to her and the aunts. 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 Old Bible Hotel, Amstebdam, 
 Sunday, July 15, 1877. 
 
 Dear Mother, — I want you to understand that 
 you must answer this letter yourseK, with your own 
 hand. I think it must be ten years since you have 
 written me a regular letter, hardly since I was in 
 Amsterdam before, so remember ! 
 
 They call this hotel the Old Bible Hotel because the 
 first Dutch Bible was printed in this house some two 
 hundred years ago, and now we are lodged here, yes- 
 terday and to-day. This morning we went to a Dutch 
 church about six hundred years old and heard some 
 awful singing and a very earnest sermon, of which we 
 did not understand a word. This afternoon we went 
 into the country to a place called Zaandam, and saw 
 all sorts of queer sights among the country people. 
 On the whole, our first week on the Continent has 
 gone first-rate, and we shall spend this week entirely 
 in Holland, bringing up at Cologne on Saturday night. 
 We are both well and are having a good time. In 
 England all went nicely. I saw a good many people 
 
LUCERNE. 183 
 
 in London, and they were pleasant and civil. General 
 Grant was the great sensation. I dined with him on 
 the 4th of July at the American minister's. He did 
 not say much, but was simple and dignified. We saw 
 a great deal of Dean Stanley, who is very pleasant. 
 
 I am so glad to hear how well father is, and that 
 the summer goes so happily with you aU. Our time 
 is one third up, and it will not be long before we are 
 talking of home again. A letter from James tells me 
 that I am a Doctor of Divinity at Harvard. I am 
 very sensible of the honor, but I hope people wiU not 
 begin to call me by the title. My best love to father 
 and the aunts, and I am forever 
 
 Your affectionate son, Phillips. 
 
 Lucerne, Sunday, Au^st 12, 1877. 
 
 Dear Mary,^— Now I will tell you all about it. I 
 dare say William has written you since we arrived at 
 Liverpool, but perhaps he has not told you anything 
 about where we have been, or what we have been do- 
 ing. I must go back to the steamer, where there were 
 a great many pleasant people. We sailed along as 
 quietly as if we were paddling on this quiet lake of 
 Lucerne, the sea bag hardly wiggle-waggled on the 
 wall. Everybody came to dinner, and the tables were 
 dreadfuUy crowded. On the whole, it was n't much of 
 a voyage, quiet, dull, and respectable. We probably 
 shall get something livelier going back, when the Sep- 
 tember sea will throw up its heels and make some sort 
 of rumpus. 
 
 Then we came to England, where, if it had not been 
 for General Grant, we should have been of some con- 
 sequence, but they were all taken up with him, and 
 looked at us as if they wondered what we had come for. 
 
 ^ A Bister-in-law. 
 
184 ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT, 
 
 And we went about among tliem as if we had as good 
 a right as they had, because our great-great-great- 
 grandfathers came from there. Their country looked 
 beautiful, and London never seemed fuller of people, 
 and was pretty hot. It is terrible to think how many 
 times we have been sizzling with heat and shivering 
 with cold since we left New York. I feel like one of 
 the pieces of meat which we have had served up at 
 our many dining-places, which have evidently been 
 heated over and then cooled down again a dozen times 
 for different travelers who came. However, it is a 
 pretty healthy process, and we are getting as tough as 
 some of the pieces of meat. Well, that is what we 
 did in London. 
 
 Then we crossed over to the Continent and so came 
 to the Belgians and Hollanders. The country up 
 there was damp and interesting. It was curious to 
 see how hard they have worked to save it from the sea, 
 and you wonder why they wanted to save it. The 
 men looked wooden-headed and the women golden- 
 headed, not as to their hair, but they wear gold blind- 
 ers, like very swell horses, which make them look very 
 funny, and compel you to go on the other side of the 
 street when you meet a first-rate a la girl. But they 
 were a dear old people, and I can hear their wooden 
 shoes clattering about the Amsterdam pavements 
 now. I have no doubt they will go on growing up 
 (those of them who don't fall into the canals and get 
 drowned in early youth), generation after generation, 
 for ages to come, and thinking they have got the best 
 country in the world. 
 
 Then came the Rhine, and a little glimpse of Ger- 
 many, and Gothic architecture, and all that sort of 
 thing, our romantic period. It was aU pretty, and 
 
STRASBURG. 185 
 
 William kept up a lively life, sight-seeing all day. . . . 
 Then came the green Tyrol, running up to the White 
 Alps and sending us over from the snow-storm on the 
 Stelvio to swelter in Verona. We put on overcoats 
 and wondered whether we had really thirsted for a 
 drop of water only two days before. Then came Ven- 
 ice, as fascinating and dreamy as it always is, beauti- 
 ful hot Florence, bright Milan, then the hills again, 
 and now we are in Switzerland. That is all. There 
 is a lake outside this fourth-story window that is pret- 
 tier than anything in Pomf ret, and to-morrow we are 
 going over where those clouds are lying, to see the 
 beauties of the Bernese mountains. I expect to see 
 the Jungfrau wink at William to-morrow evening. 
 He is as well as a healthy cricket. Thank you for 
 letting him come, and I '11 return him safe. My love 
 to the babies, if they have not forgotten me, and I am 
 just as usual, Your affectionate P. 
 
 Stbasburg, August 26, 1877. 
 Dear Arthur,^ — You were a blessed good boy to 
 write me from Bar Harbor. I only received your 
 note last night when I came here, and here 's a word 
 of answer, though we are so near coming home that it 
 hardly seems worth while to write. We have had a 
 lovely summer, much of it on our old ground. First, 
 London and the Dean (I did not see Stopford Brooke 
 or Freemantle) ; then the Rhine, Venice, and Milan 
 (but the gallery there was closed, and we did not see 
 the Luinis) ; then Zermatt and Chamounix. All 
 these brought back our pleasant days. We roamed 
 about and limched at Bauer's, which stood just as we 
 left it opposite St. Moses. It seems as if we had been 
 
 1 His brother, Bev. Arthur Brooks, D. D, 
 
186 ENGLAND AND THE CONTINENT. 
 
 there only a week before, in fact just run up to Co- 
 negliano and back again. 
 
 And you have been in the old haunts in Mt. De- 
 sert. You were cooler than we were in Venice, cer- 
 tainly. I have seen no parsons from America, though 
 I heard of Tyng being about in Switzerland. The 
 minister at Geneva wrote and wanted me to lay the 
 corner stone of his new church, but I wrote him I 
 could not, and he asked General Grant, which no 
 doubt pleased him a great deal better. . . . 
 
 There has been a terrible summer in America, 
 has n't there ? Matters must be in an unsettled 
 state and delay the return of prosperity sadly. Over 
 here, it really seems as if Russia had got a much 
 harder job than anybody dreamed, and one perhaps 
 too hard for her to accomplish. Nothing but Glad- 
 stone, and the popular feeling which he excited and 
 expressed, has kept England neutral. 
 
 I wonder if you are back in New York and at work 
 again. Look out for the Scythia on Tuesday, the 
 18th, when we arrive under the care of Captain 
 Hains. I shall feel by and by as if I could not cross 
 the ocean except with him. Give my best love to 
 Lizzie, and tell her I count on her and you to be my 
 first visitors in the new house. We will have lots to 
 talk about. To-morrow we start from Paris, and a 
 week from next Saturday, ho for New York I 
 
 Always affectionately, P. 
 
IN PAKIS, ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, AND 
 IKELAND, 
 
 1880. 
 
 Hotel du Louvre, Paris, July 7, 1880. 
 
 Dear William, — You know this place. The 
 Louvre is just opposite, the Palais Royal is just be- 
 hind, and you and I were here in 1877. You see we 
 have not been quite able to keep to our plan of not 
 going out of the United Kingdom. I have to be in 
 London, or rather at Windsor, next Sunday, to make 
 a few remarks to the Queen, so we ran over here for 
 the week between. It looks just as it used to. The 
 Venus of Milo is over there in the round hall, with 
 the red curtains behind her, and the Titians, Murillos, 
 and Raphaels are upstairs. The cabs go whirling over 
 the asphalt, just as they used to when you and I were 
 in them. It is very jolly and pretty, and I wish that 
 you were here. Everything in London was very good. 
 The Dean was all civility. He gave us his dinner 
 party, and Farrar and others were there ; and we went 
 to the great Bradlaugh debate in the House of Com- 
 mons, and stayed until it broke up at two o'clock 
 in the morning. We went also to Lambeth, and saw 
 the Archbishop, but did not lunch with him. The 
 pictures in Trafalgar Square were just as fine as 
 ever, and I bought some Waukenphasts, and preached 
 in the Abbey on the 4th of July evening. Farrar 
 preached in the morning, and beat me on Yankee 
 
188 PARIS, ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, IRELAND. 
 
 Doodle ! Tell Mary I sliall write her from the High- 
 lands. My love to her, the babies, and all Nahant. 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 Steamship Columba, July 29, 1880. 
 
 Dear William, — I am on a steamboat between 
 Oban and Glasgow on the coast of Scotland. John 
 is up on deck somewhere, and the scenery outside has 
 grown a little tame, so I take this chance to tell you 
 that we are well, and the Scotch trip, which h draw- 
 ing near its end, has been a great success, just as the 
 Dutch, the Tyrolese, and the Swiss trip were three 
 years ago. 
 
 We left London on the 12th of July ; the day after I 
 wrote a beautiful letter to Mary from Windsor Castle, 
 and went to Edinburgh, where we saw many pretty 
 sights, and quite a number of interesting people. Dean 
 Stanley had furnished us with introductions, and every- 
 body was very civil. We stayed there three days, 
 and then went to St. Andrews, where we saw the great 
 ruined cathedral, and some more agreeable people con- 
 nected with the university there. We spent a queer 
 night at an old castle, where some of Dean Stan- 
 ley's relations live, and all was very nice and funny. 
 Then we struck north, and have been wandering about 
 the Highlands and the Island of Skye for the last ten 
 days. First-rate weather, lots of queer adventures, and 
 all sorts of ridiculous stopping-places, with superb 
 scenery everywhere, made it a delightful journey. 
 Now our faces are turned homeward. A day upon 
 the Lowland lakes, a day in Glasgow, a week among 
 the English lakes, a Sunday, August 8, at Chester, 
 three days in Ireland, the Germanic at Queenstown 
 on the 13th, New York some time on Saturday, the 
 
WELLS. 189 
 
 21st; then Nahant, Boston, the new house, and ser- 
 mons. . . . 
 
 I received Mary's letter last week, and consider it 
 an answer to the epistle from Windsor. Tell her I 
 thank her for it. Good-by. Affectionately, P. 
 
 Wells, August 5, 1880. 
 
 My dear Mary, — Thank you for your letter^ 
 which was very good to get. We are too near 
 home (for we sail a week from to-morrow) for me to 
 write you a great long answer, but it just occurs to me 
 that I may reach Boston at some imtimely hour, and 
 want to get into my house, while you and William are 
 comfortably sleeping at Naliant. So will you ask him, 
 about the time we are expected, to leave the house 
 keys at the Brunswick, directed to me, and I can get 
 them there. I will thank you v/hen I see you. 
 
 We have had a beautiful time. It has always 
 rained except just where we were, and everybody has 
 seemed to go out of his, her, or its way to make us 
 happy. Now we are getting a few days down here 
 among the southern towns. We have just come back 
 from Glastonbury, which was very pretty, and I am 
 writing to you in a queer little mahogany coffee-room. 
 John is beside me, writing an immense letter to his 
 wife, which is a thing that all my traveling com- 
 panions have done in their several turns. At the other 
 end of the table, an old gentleman with a bald head 
 is studying a railway time-table, and his wife, who is 
 very ugly, is asleep in an armchair in the southeast 
 corner. At the northeast corner of the room, a man 
 is eating his supper of fried sole and boiled eggs. The 
 old gentleman has just called for a glass of " brown 
 brandy and soda water," and he seems to think it will 
 
190 PARIS, ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, IRELAND. 
 
 taste good. There is a row in the hall because an 
 omnibus lias just arrived from the station with some 
 more guests, and the landlady is running about like an 
 over-busy hen. That is about all that seems to be 
 going on to-night in Wells. Tlie old gentleman, who 
 seems to be the liveliest member of the party, has got 
 his drink, and is ordering a boiled sole for his break- 
 fast at half past eight to-morrow morning. Now WeUs 
 is perfectly quiet. Not a sound. . . . 
 
 Ever yours affectionately (if you don't forget about 
 the keys), P. 
 
A YEAK IN EUKOPE AND INDIA. 
 
 1882-1883. 
 
 Steamship Sebvia, June 28, 1882. 
 
 Dear Johnny,^ — We have had a wonderful pas- 
 sage, and here we are just getting ready to see Fastnet 
 light this afternoon. Does n't that bring back two 
 years ago, and all the long dreary day between Queens- 
 town and Liverpool? I hope that we shall have a 
 more cheerful experience to-morrow. Dr. John Hall 
 is aboard, and Dr. Lorimer, and Lawrence Barrett, and 
 T. B. Aldrich, and four hundred and fifty more ; and 
 we have had a bright, sunny, happy time. McVickar 
 and James and I and Richardson and John Ropes 
 make up a sort of party who sit together at the cabin 
 table, and smoke together in one corner of the deck, 
 and talk about whatever chooses to turn up. 
 
 And so the year of wandering has begun. It is not 
 easy yet to realize that it is more than a mere summer's 
 journey, but every now and then it comes over me 
 that the gap is to be so great that the future, if there 
 is any, will certainly be something different in some 
 way from the past. I don't regret that, for pleasant 
 as all these past years have been, they don't look very 
 satisfactory as one reviews them ; and although I am 
 inclined to put a higher value on their results than 
 anybody else would be likely to do, they have not cer- 
 tainly accomplished much. I should like to think that 
 the years that remain, when I get home, would be 
 
 1 His brother, Rev. John C. Brooks. 
 
192 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 more useful. There is surely coming, and it has partly 
 come, a better Christian Day than any that we or 
 our fathers for many generations have seen. One 
 would like to feel before he dies that he had made 
 some little bit of contribution to it. 
 
 Well, well, all that is far away ; and here come the 
 stewards rattling the plates and getting ready for an 
 immediate lunch, — soup and cold meat and prunes 
 and baked apples ; that is the next step in this small 
 floating world, and the future of Christianity does not 
 interest any of them at this moment. 
 
 I wonder what is going on at home. Your Marion 
 home must be almost done. I hope with all my heart 
 you and yours may be very happy there in secula 
 seculorum. Think of me sometimes, and when you 
 tMnk, write. My love to Hattie and the babies. 
 
 Ever affectionately, P. 
 
 Steamship Servia, June 28, 1882. 
 
 Dear William, — We reached Queenstown last 
 night, and I wish you were here this morning. I 
 would tell you what a pleasant voyage we had, since 
 you left us a week ago this morning ; what a splendid 
 great ship this is, and how McVickar and I have rat- 
 tled round in our little stateroom. I preached last 
 Smiday, and we had an entertainment last night for 
 the Liverpool Seamen's Home. I presided, and Law- 
 rence Barrett read " Horatius," and girls and boys 
 sang songs. " William," our old steward of the Scy- 
 thia, is on this boat, and waits on James. The Cap- 
 tain never speaks to anybody ; we have four hundred 
 and fifty passengers, are awfully over-crowded, and 
 have to dine in two batches. It is all delightful and 
 confused, and as funny as an ocean vo3^age always is. 
 
BRUSSELS. 193 
 
 But you are not here, so I will not try to tell you all 
 this, but we have really had a most remarkable voyage. 
 
 I think we are likely next week to turn our steps 
 southward and spend the summer in southern France 
 and northern Italy, with perhaps a run into northern 
 Spain. Richardson will probably join us there, and 
 architecture be the main interest of the tour. But art, 
 life, and scenery shall not be forgotten. You shall 
 hear all about it. 
 
 Did Gertie get the list of passengers I sent her? 
 I thought she would see a good many names that she 
 knew, and would be interested in knowing who my 
 companions were. James has just passed by, pacing 
 the deck with jocund tread, and sends his love. 
 
 It was good of you and Mary to come and see us 
 off. I think you are both very good to me aU the 
 time, and to tliink of your goodness will be one of my 
 greatest joys this long year. P. 
 
 Hotel Bellevue, Brussels, July 9, 1882. 
 My dear William, — Do you remember pretty 
 Brussels ? And this comfortable hotel and St. Gudule 
 and the nice time we had here five years ago ? Well, 
 here we are again, James and McYickar and I, and I 
 will tell you how we got here. We landed after a most 
 wonderful passage from the Servia on Thursday even- 
 ing, the 29th of June. The next morning we left 
 Liverpool, and James and I spent the night at the 
 Peacock Inn at Rowsley, where we went to see Chats- 
 worth and Haddon Hall. It was the most delightful 
 English afternoon. Saturday morning we took a 
 train for Lincoln, and saw the big cathedral, which 
 you know. That was good, too, and James seemed to 
 enjoy it very much. In the afternoon we drove to 
 
194 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 Boston, where we saw the Vicar, who insisted that we 
 should remain for Sunday. We declined his invita- 
 tion to the vicarage and stayed at the Peacock Inn. 
 
 It is a very neat and pretty town, as dull as death, 
 with nothing but the St. Botolph Church to give it 
 distinction. On Sunday morning James read the 
 Lessons in the hig church and I preached. It was a 
 pleasant sort of experience. John's visit of two years 
 ago was constantly referred to, and seems to have be- 
 come historic in the town. The Vicar is a very pleas- 
 ant old gentleman and hospitable as he can be. 
 
 From there we went to Peterborough, and on Mon- 
 day saw Ely and a good deal of Cambridge, and finally 
 brought up at London on Monday night. We went 
 to one or two hotels about Trafalgar Square, but they 
 were crowded, and at last we brought up at the old 
 door of the Westminster Palace Hotel, where they 
 took us in, and it was like a bit of the old times. 
 
 Here we stayed three days. One night we went to 
 the House of Commons. Of course I went into the 
 Abbey and saw the Dean's grave, and I called at the 
 old deanery, but the new Dean was out. Farrar came 
 to see me and asked me to preach. I saw Lady Frances 
 Baillie, and we had much talk about Dean Stanley. 
 Then we went out to see Burne Jones the artist, and 
 again to see William Morris the poet, at his factory 
 at Merton Abbey, where he makes his beautiful things. 
 These, with some sights of London, took up our time. 
 McVickar, who had been to see his sister, joined us 
 again in London, and here we also met Richardson, 
 and arranged to go with him to southern France and 
 Spain. Think of us there when you get this. 
 
 On Friday, James, McVickar, and I crossed from 
 Dover to Ostend, and yesterday we went to Louvain, 
 
PARIS. 195 
 
 where McVickar had to see about some bells for Holy 
 Trinity. There is a bright and busy ten days since 
 we landed. How are you all ? I tried to picture you 
 at Andover this Sunday afternoon, with the aunts tak- 
 ing care of you. Oh, how I wish you and Mary were 
 here, and could go down with us to hear the Vesper 
 music at St. Gudule. It is all very pleasant and will 
 last for six weeks more, and then for Germany, and 
 something rather more like work. It is hard to real- 
 ize that a year and more must come before I see you 
 all. God keep you. My best love to Mary and the 
 children. Affectionately, P. 
 
 Hotel de l'Empire, Paris, July 14, 1882. 
 My dear Gertie, — I was very much pleased to get 
 your letter, and think it was very nice indeed in you 
 to write. It was the first letter I received, and I read 
 it as I was sitting in the vestibule of the House of 
 Commons in London, waiting for the doors to open, 
 to let us go in and hear the great men make their 
 speeches. Since then we have traveled on and on, 
 and now are in great Paris. It is all excitement here, 
 because this is the great Fete Day, just like the 4th 
 of July in Boston. Years and years ago, the old 
 prison of the Bastile was taken, and the prisoners 
 were released on the 14th of July. Susie will tell you 
 all about it. The streets to-day are full of flying 
 flags, and there are bands of music going all about 
 town, and hosts of soldiers marching. This evening, 
 the city is going to be illmninated, and there will be 
 fireworks everywhere. And it is all as pretty as 
 pretty can be. Don't you wish that you were here ? 
 Some day you and I will come. The funny thing is 
 that the people here speak French. The little chil- 
 
196 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 dren about the streets speak it, just as well as you 
 speak English. The boys and girls are very queer. 
 The common little boys wear blue blouses, and the 
 little girls wear small white night - caps all the time. 
 It is bright, and sunshiny, and delightful. 
 
 I am glad you have had such a nice time in New 
 York, and that you saw Central Park and the Ele- 
 vated Railroad. Now I am glad you are having such 
 a good time at Andover. Go and see the beautiful 
 pig, and write me a letter and tell me how he looks. 
 Get your map and find Bayonne, down in the south- 
 west corner of France. We shall be somewhere 
 about there when you get this letter. 
 
 Good-by, and don't forget your affectionate uncle 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 NiMBS, France, July 23, 1882. 
 Dear William, — I am afraid that a little letter 
 which I wrote from Paris must do duty, and fill the 
 gap between my last to you and this. After we left 
 Paris, we traveled somewhat rapidly through France 
 imtil we reached this place. What we saw specially 
 was a group of churches in Auvergne, in and about 
 Clermont, in which Richard son is especially inter- 
 ested, and which indeed give the key to a great deal 
 that is in Trinity. They are very curious, and I am 
 glad to have seen them. Besides, we saw one or two 
 funny little French watering-places and some fine 
 scenery, finer than anything which I had supposed 
 there was in France. We are spending a quiet Sunday 
 here, and next week shall very possibly start for 
 Spain, where we may spend a few weeks, but our 
 plans are uncertain. Richardson and his young friend 
 Jacques are still with us. 
 
GENOA. 197 
 
 I have heard little from home, but am thankful to 
 know that all goes well. There were a few lines on 
 the outside of a forwarded letter, which reached me 
 here, in which you told me that Arthur and Lizzie 
 sailed on the 11th. They must be now in Europe. I 
 hope they will let me know their whereabouts, and 
 that I may see them before they go home. It seems 
 very strange that we should all be in Europe, and not 
 know anything about each other's ways. Allen writes 
 me about the church, which seems to be getting on 
 well. 
 
 I wish you were here, but do write me all about 
 everything. My love to all. P. 
 
 Genoa, July 30, 1882. 
 
 Dear William, — ... You do not know what a 
 lovely Sunday this is here. The sea breeze is blowing, 
 the palaces are shining, the people are chattering, 
 the sky is a delicious blue, and you, if you were only 
 here, would add another picture to your gallery which 
 would be worth keeping all your life. Since last Sun- 
 day we have strolled through southern France, seen 
 Provence with its wealth of old Roman remains, and 
 sailed, with the loveliest passage, across from Mar- 
 seilles to this delightful town. To-morrow, we start 
 by steamer for Leghorn, Pisa, and Florence. North- 
 ern Italy will have the next three weeks, — mitil 
 James leaves us for home, and the whole party goes 
 to pieces. We have had some hot weather, but no- 
 thing oppressive, — nothing like what I fear you have 
 had at home. 
 
 We are evidently going to have a troubled year in 
 Europe, and just at present it cannot be nice to go to 
 India. It seems most doubtful what will be the end, 
 
198 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 especially if, as now seems likely, the religious ques- 
 tion gets mixed up with it, and a Mohammedan sacred 
 war is proclaimed. England is sure to come out 
 strong. Her action in Egypt must certainly be for 
 the advantage of civilization and the world. . . . 
 
 Florence, Augnst 6, 1882. 
 
 Dear William, — How do you all do this week ? 
 Dear me, how the weeks go by, and the hot summer 
 slips away ! Since last Sunday we have had a pretty 
 sail from Genoa to Leghorn, a. bright day in Pisa, 
 a nice three days in Florence, and a visit to Sienna 
 and Orvieto. Just think of Orvieto, where we slept 
 Friday night, within two hours and a half of Rome 
 itself! 
 
 Do you remember Florence ? There is a cathedral 
 here, a Baptistery, a Campanile, and there are Donatel- 
 los, Andrea del Sartos, and Lucca della Robbias ; and 
 they all look just the same as they did five years ago. It 
 is not quite so hot as when we were here last, but it is 
 the same bright, happy-looking place, and the same 
 man sells lemonade under the shadow of the loggia. 
 To-morrow morning we are off for Bologna, Ravenna, 
 and then Venice. Think of us on Sunday the 20th, 
 at Milan, and Sunday the 27th, at Paris. Our party 
 has held together beautifully, and there has been lots 
 of fun. I shall meet Arthur and Lizzie for a while 
 after the 1st of September. I heard from John yes- 
 terday, who seems delighted with Marion and his 
 house. , . . 
 
 My next prospect is Germany, and I am counting 
 much on it. 
 
VENICE. 199 
 
 Venice, August 13, 1882. 
 
 Dear Gertie, — When the little children in Venice 
 want to take a bath, they just go down to the front 
 steps of the house and jump off, and swim about in 
 the street. Yesterday I saw a nurse standing on the 
 front steps, holding one end of a string, and the other 
 end was tied to a little fellow who was swimming up 
 the street. When he went too far, the nurse pulled 
 in the string, and got her baby home again. Then I 
 met another youngster, swimming in the street, whose 
 mother had tied him to a post by the side of the door, 
 so that when he tried to swim away to see another boy, 
 who was tied to another door post up the street, he 
 could n't, and they had to sing out to one another over 
 the water. 
 
 Is not this a queer city ? You are always in danger 
 of rmming over some of the people and drowning them, 
 for you go about in a boat, instead of a carriage, and 
 use an oar, instead of a horse. But it is ever so pretty, 
 and the people, especially the children, are very bright, 
 and gay, and handsome. When you are sitting in 
 your room at night, you hear some music under your 
 window, and look out, and there is a boat with a 
 man with a fiddle, and a woman with a voice, and 
 they are serenading you. To be sure, they want some 
 money when they are done, for everybody begs here, 
 but they do it very prettily and are full of fun. 
 
 Tell Susie I did not see the Queen this time. She 
 was out of town. But ever so many noblemen and 
 princes have sent to know how Toody was, and how 
 she looked, and I have sent them all her love. 
 
 There must be lots of pleasant things to do at An- 
 dover, and I think you must have had a beautiful sum- 
 mer there. Pretty soon, now, you will go back to 
 
200 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 Boston. Do go into my house when you get there, 
 and see if the doll and her baby are well and happy 
 (but do not carry them off) ; and make the music box 
 play a tune, and remember your affectionate uncle 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 Chioggia, August 16, 1882. 
 
 Dear Mary, — Did you ever come to Chioggia? 
 If you ever did, you are not likely to have forgotten 
 it, for it is the queerest, dearest little place in the 
 world. Perhaps some time when you have been at 
 Venice, you have taken the steamboat early in the 
 morning, and run down here and spent the day, which 
 is what Mr. McVickar and I have done to-day. We 
 left James just dressed and ready for his breakfast, 
 meaning to have a beautiful day in Venice ; he pre- 
 ferred that to Chioggia, and we shall meet again to- 
 night when we get back to dinner. You have no idea 
 how well he is, and how he wanders around in gondo- 
 las like a Doge, and how good it has been to have him 
 here all these weeks. But about Chioggia. 
 
 It is an old, old island, two hours from Venice, 
 where the people fish for a living, and hardly anybody 
 who once gets born on the island ever goes away. 
 The harbor now is full of fishing-boats, with sails of 
 red, blue, and green, with pious pictures all over them, 
 and picturesque fishermen dropping queer nets over 
 the sides. The old piazza in front of the tavern where 
 we have been eating our coUazione is full of men un- 
 snarling their nets and spreading them out to dry. 
 Picturesque children are begging around the door; 
 and a little brown rascal, with nothing on but a pair 
 of bathing trousers, is standing on his head for a cent. 
 The gar^on has just got mad and thrown one of the 
 
MILAN. 201 
 
 cafe chairs into the midst of them and scattered the 
 clamorous multitude, who are laughing at him from 
 a safe distance. 
 
 Up the street there is a jolly old church, and two 
 funny little old lions are carved on the bridge, which 
 crosses the canal just opposite. It is as pretty as a 
 picture, — prettier than most. I hope you saw it the 
 last time you were in Venice. If not, you must be 
 sure to come here next time. The only trouble is that 
 you have to stay six hours, when three is quite enough ; 
 but this gives me the chance for which I have been 
 looking, to thank you for your letter, which was very 
 good indeed to get. It came from Mt. Desert, which 
 is not altogether just like Venice, but is something 
 made out of land and water, at any rate. 
 
 I like to think of you all at Andover, where I am 
 sure you have had a good, happy summer. I hope 
 when you get back to dear old Boston, you will be 
 good enough to miss me dreadfully. I expect to be 
 full of miserableness when you get this, week after 
 next, which will be the time when our pleasant sum- 
 mer party is breaking up and I shall be beginning my 
 solitary winter. Think of me then, and how good it 
 always used to be to get back in the autumn and 
 start the winter life again. I wonder if those times 
 will ever come back again just so. God knows ! 
 
 Let me hear often. Most affectionately, P. 
 
 Hotel Continental, Milan, August 20, 18S2. 
 
 Dear William, — They have a new hotel at Milan, 
 so we are not staying where you and I put up five 
 years ago. I have thought very much about our vic't 
 here. Indeed, the whole of the last three weeks has 
 reminded me of much that we did to^xethsr in that 
 
202 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 pleasant and memorable summer. Florence, Bologna, 
 Venice, Verona, we have been to all of them, throwing 
 in some new places, some of which I had never seen 
 before. I think that I enjoyed the re-seeing of old 
 places almost, if not quite, as much as the discovery 
 of new ones. The deepening and filling out of old im- 
 pressions is very delightful. 
 
 Here our summer party begins to go to pieces. Mr. 
 Richardson and Mr. Jacques start to-morrow morning 
 for Marseilles and Spain. James, McVickar, and I 
 go northward by Maggiore and the Simplon to Brieg, 
 Martigny, Chamounix, Geneva, and Paris. Our jour- 
 ney together has been veiy delightful. Richardson 
 is full of intelligence and cultivation in his own art, 
 and Jacques is a pleasant fellow, who has made us all 
 like him very much. We shall miss them both ex- 
 ceedingly. Ahnost no other Americans have come 
 in our way. I saw Mi*. Augustus Lowell and his 
 family in Venice ; and Daniel Dougherty of Phila- 
 delphia (whom you and I went once to hear lecture, — 
 do you remember?) turned up in the cathedral the 
 other day. 
 
 I thank you for your good letters, and for an 
 " Advertiser " which I received yesterday. I hope that 
 you will give a newspaper a chance of reaching me 
 now and then. ... P. 
 
 HOtel de l'Empirb, Paris, August 28, 1882. 
 
 Dear William, — I have just been to the station 
 to see James and McVickar off for England, whence 
 James sails on Wednesday for America. You prob- 
 ably will see him before you get this letter. He will 
 tell you about our last week, how we made a run 
 through Switzerland, had a splendid day on the Sim- 
 
PARIS. 203 
 
 plon, crossed the Tete Noire, just as you and I did five 
 years ago, found clouds and rain at Chamounix, so 
 that we saw nothing there. We just stopped for 
 dinner at Geneva and came on to Paris, which we 
 reached early Friday morning. After three pleasant 
 days together in Paris, they have gone this morning, 
 and I am all alone. 
 
 It has been a delightful summer, and now I feel as 
 if my work began. A week from to-day I hope to 
 reach Berlin, where I shall stay for some time. I am 
 very anxious to study, and the prospect of unlimited 
 time for reading opens most attractively. I do not 
 feel as if it were a waste of time, or mere self-indul- 
 gence, for all my thought about the work which I 
 have done for the last twenty years, while it is very 
 pleasant to remember, makes it seem very superficial 
 and incomplete. I do not know that I can make what 
 remains any better, but I am very glad indeed of 
 the opportunity to try. 
 
 On my way to Germany I shall probably meet 
 Arthur and Lizzie, who are to be in Belgium some 
 time this week. ... I shall be glad to get sight of 
 them, but it will be very brief, hardly more than a 
 hand-shake with each other, I am afraid. We have 
 seen almost no Americans this summer, until we 
 reached Paris. Yesterday, the little American church 
 was quite full of them. . . . The Winthrops were at 
 Chamounix, and we spent an evening with them. 
 Mr. Winthrop seemed to be enjoying his travels. 
 
 Of course, everybody is anxiously watching the 
 progress of affairs in Egy[:)t. We know no more about 
 it than you do in America. But the general impres- 
 sion is that it cannot h?. a long affair, though the 
 English are evidently i liding Arabi's people stronger 
 
204 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 and braver than they had expected. But any day 
 they may coUapse. 
 
 Paris is cold and rainy, not at all the bright and 
 sunny thing which you saw when you were here. . . . 
 Always affectionately, P. 
 
 Hanover, September 4, 1882. 
 
 Dear William, — The great event of the last week 
 was the meeting of the waters. Two Brooks boys, 
 Arthur and I, came together in the ancient city of 
 Cologne. It was Thursday evening when it hap- 
 pened ; Arthur had started that morning from May- 
 ence and come down the Rhine, the way you know, 
 and I had started from Paris, at an awfid hour, and 
 come all the way through by rail, and we met in the 
 hall of the Plotel d'HoUande at about eight o'clock 
 p. M. We had a long talk that evening, and the next 
 morning we went through the sights of Cologne once 
 more. Then we took rail to Aix la Chapelle, and 1 
 saw that again in this new company. I had been 
 there once before this year with James and McVickar. 
 
 Then we went to Maestricht, where we spent the 
 night and saw a queer cave. Then we came to Brus- 
 sels, with various experiences on the way, and once 
 more I found myself in that very familiar town. 
 There we spent a very quiet, pleasant Sunday, went 
 to church, and talked to each other a great deal. Late 
 last night, we bade each other a long, long farewell. 
 This morning, I was called at half past four, and have 
 come to-day (passing through Cologne again) as far 
 as here. . . . 
 
 I have started my journey three or four times al- 
 ready. Now to-day it really has begun. I have said 
 good-by to my last relative, and there is nobody else 
 
BERLIN. 205 
 
 whom I have any engagement to meet until I land in 
 New York a year hence. I am quite alone. To-morrow, 
 I am going to Hildesheim and Magdeburg, and the next 
 day to Berlin. There I shall get your letter, which I 
 have missed this week, and which will be very wel- 
 come indeed. I have thanked you most heartily for 
 all your letters, and have got to counting upon them 
 as regularly as the week comes round. So do not ever 
 dare to omit. . . . Everybody now is expecting an 
 advance in Egypt, and news of a battle, anyway. 
 France is getting very restless. There are stormy 
 times coming in Europe. 
 
 I hope you are all well, and happy as kings and 
 queens, or happier. My love to everybody. P. 
 
 HoTEii Du NoBD, Berlin, 
 September 10, 1882. 
 
 My dear Gertie, — This is Sunday morning. It 
 is just after breakfast, about a quarter before nine 
 o'clock. In a shop window on this street, I see a 
 great big clock every time I go out. It has seven 
 faces, and each face tells what time it is in some one 
 of the great cities of the world. The one in the middle 
 tells what time it is in Berlin, and all around that are 
 the other great cities ; it has not got North Ando- 
 ver, for that is too small ; it is not one of the great 
 cities of the world ; but it has New York. Yester- 
 day, as I passed it about one o'clock, I saw that 
 it was about five in New York, so I know now 
 that it cannot be quite three in North Andover. 
 You will not go to church for a good while yet, so 
 will have time enough to read my letter twice before 
 you go. 
 
 I came here last Wednesday, and am going to stay 
 
206 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 for some time. In fact, T feel as if I lived in Berlin. 
 I send you a picture of the house, with a line drawn 
 around my two windows. The children at the door 
 are not you and Agnes. I wish they were. 
 
 The children in Paris all wore blouses, and the 
 children in Venice did not wear much of anything. 
 Here they all wear satchels. I never saw such chil- 
 dren for going to school. The streets are full of them, 
 going or coming, all the time. They are queer little 
 white-headed blue-eyed things, many of them very 
 pretty indeed, but they grow up into dreadful-looking 
 men and women. They wear their satchels strapped 
 on their backs like soldiers' knapsacks, and when you 
 see a schoolful of three hundred letting out, it is very 
 funny. 
 
 Only two houses up the street lives the Emperor. 
 He and his wife are out of town now, or no doubt they 
 would send some word to Toody. 
 
 Affectionately your uncle Phillips. 
 
 Hotel du Nord, Berlin, 
 
 Sunday, September 17, 1882. 
 
 Dear William, — To-day I am going to write and 
 tell you what I have been doing in Berlin. I have 
 been here for ten days, and have fallen into the most 
 regular way of living, just as if I had been a Ber- 
 liner instead of a Bostonian, and had lived all my 
 youth in the Unter den Linden instead of in Rowe 
 Street. Do you want to know how it goes ? I get up 
 in the morning and breakfast at eight o'clock ; then I 
 go to my room, which is very bright and pleasant, 
 where I have a lot of books and a good table, at 
 which I am writing now. Here I stay until eleven 
 or twelve, reading and studying, mostly German ; then 
 
BERLIN. 207 
 
 I go out, see a sight or two, and make calls until 
 it is two o'clock. Then I go to Dr. Seidel, my 
 teacher, and take a lesson, reading German with 
 him for two hours. Then it is dinner-time, for every- 
 body in Berlin dines very early. They have North 
 Andover fashions here. Four o'clock is the table 
 d'hote time at our hotel, and that is rather late. After 
 dinner I get about two hours more of reading in my 
 room, and when it is dark I go out and call on some- 
 body, or find some interesting public place until bed- 
 time. Is not that a quiet, regular life ? 
 
 The people here to whom I had letters have been 
 kind and civil, so far as they were in town; but 
 Berlin ways are very like Boston ways, and the peo- 
 ple whom one would like to see are largely at North 
 Andover or Nahant. The family of which I have 
 seen most is Baron von Bunsen's. He is a son of the 
 old Bunsen of whom one hears so much in the last 
 generation, is a very cultivated, intelligent gentleman, 
 a member of the German Parliament, and an excel- 
 lent scholar. He has a charming family, and a de- 
 lightful house in the new part of Berlin, which is very 
 beautiful. He has given me a good deal of time, going 
 to museums, etc., and I have been several times at his 
 house. Tuesday I am to dine there and go with them 
 to see Schiller's " William Tell." 
 
 The theatre here is such a different thing from 
 what it is with us. It is like a sort of lecture. It 
 begins at half past six and is out before ten. Ladies 
 come unattended. Some of them sit and knit. The 
 whole thing is as quiet as a sewing-circle, and quite 
 free from any of the air of dissipation that belongs 
 to theatre-going in America. Of course there are the 
 other kind of theatres, but I speak of the best sort. 
 
208 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 and those which Government maintains. One night I 
 went to see " Hamlet " in German. The acting was 
 poor, but the audience was interesting. 
 
 Besides the Bunsens I have seen a good deal of Dr. 
 Abbott, who has been settled here for fort}^ years, and 
 knows Berlin through and through. Last night I 
 dined with him at the Zoological Garden, and saw a 
 pretty picture of Berlin life. To-morrow I am going 
 out to dine at Wansee (which seems to be a sort of 
 Berlin Brookline) with Baron von der Heydt, who is 
 going to have some of the Court preachers to meet me. 
 A good many other people have called on me, and 
 talked about German things and people ; so that I see 
 all I want to see of folks, and the days are only too 
 short. Unfortunately, the university is closed, and 
 the professors are all off on vacations, so that I miss 
 many men whom I should like to see. Indeed, I fear 
 the universities all through Germany meet so late, 
 that if I go to India the first of December I shall be 
 able to see very little of the professors and to hear 
 hardly any lectures. But I am counting much on In- 
 dia. Yesterday I met Lord Amthill, the British min- 
 ister here, and he offered to give me letters to the 
 Earl of Ripon, who is Governor-General of India, and 
 to other people there, which will insure me the chance 
 to see whatever is going on. What a tremendous vic- 
 tory Wolseley has gained this week I Now Arabi will 
 not block my way. 
 
 Do you remember the little statuettes from Tanagra 
 which are in our Art Museum ? There are a great 
 many here and I am much interested in them. Yes- 
 terday I found some capital reproductions of them, 
 and bought three, which are to be sent you by mail. 
 Well, my paper is full, and though I could go on a 
 
WITTENBERG. 209 
 
 week about Berlin, I stop. I am just going down 
 to preach at a little American chapel which is here. 
 I shall stay about a week longer, and then travel 
 through Germany. ... P. 
 
 Wittenberg, Sunday, September 24, 1882. 
 
 My dear Agnes, — I was glad to get your letter, 
 which reached me a few days ago in Berlin. I think 
 you were very good indeed to write me, and it was a 
 nice letter. ... 
 
 Did you ever hear of Wittenberg ? You will find 
 it on the map, not very far from Berlin. It used to 
 be a very famous place when Martin Luther lived 
 here, and was preaching his sermons in the church 
 whose clock I just now heard strike a quarter of one, 
 and was writing his books in the room whose picture 
 is at the top of this sheet of paper. I am sure you 
 know all about Luther. If not, ask Toody, she 
 knows most everything. In the picture, you can see 
 Luther's table, the seat in the window where he and 
 his wife used to sit and talk, the big stove which he 
 had built to warm his cold room, and the bust of him- 
 seK, which was taken just after he died, and hung up 
 here. With the exception of that, everything remains 
 just exactly as he left it, over three hundred years ago, 
 before your papa, manrnia, or aunt Susan were born. 
 
 It is a queer old town. Just now, when it was 
 twelve o'clock, I heard some music, and looked out 
 and found that a band of music was playing psalm 
 tunes away up in the air in the tower of the old parish 
 church. My window looks out on the market-place, 
 where there are two statues, one of Luther, and one 
 of Melanchthon, who was a great friend of his. Ger- 
 tie wiU tell you about him. And the houses are 
 
210 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 the funniest shape, and have curious mottoes carved 
 or painted over their front door. I came here from 
 Berlin yesterday, and am going to travel about in 
 Germany for a few weeks, and then go back to Berlin 
 again. Berlin is very nice. I wish I could tell you 
 about a visit which I made, Friday, to one of the 
 great public schools, where I saw a thousand boys and 
 a thousand girls, and the way they spelt the hard 
 words in German woidd have frightened you to death. 
 Tell Susie that I thank her for her beautiful little 
 letter, and hope she will write me another. You must 
 write to me again. Give my best love to everybody, 
 and do not forget your affectionate uncle P. 
 
 Frankfurterhof, Sunday, October 1, 1882. 
 
 Dear William, — ... I arrived here late last 
 night, after spending the whole week on a journey 
 from Berlin. It was a sort of Luther journey, for I 
 went to Eisleben, where he was born and died ; Mans- 
 feld, where he was brought up ; Erfurt, where he 
 went to school ; Wittenberg, where he was professor ; 
 Eisenach and the Wartburg, where he was a prisoner ; 
 Gotha, Weimar, Halle, where he preached ; and Mar- 
 burg, where he had his great disputation with Zwin- 
 gli. Here in Frankfort there is a house of his, just 
 opposite the Dom, which, by the way, they have fin- 
 ished repairing and have re-opened. I went to service 
 there this morning, before I went to the little English 
 chapel where you and I went five years ago. 
 
 Besides these Luther visits, I had a pleasant day at 
 Halle, with Professor Conrad, professor of political 
 economy, to whom I had a note of introduction, who 
 was very civil, showing me all over the university 
 and telling me all that I wanted to know about it and 
 
HEIDELBERG, 211 
 
 the students. There, too, it is vacation. None of the 
 universities begin until the middle of October, and 
 many of them not until the first of November, so that 
 I shall not get much of them. I am now on my way 
 to Heidelberg, where I hope to stay some time, prob- 
 ably two or three weeks, so think of me as there when 
 you get this. I enjoyed Berlin exceedingly, and 
 foimd the people most courteous and obliging. In- 
 deed, I made some friends there, especially the Bun- 
 sens, whom I was very sorry to leave. I may possibly 
 get back there, but it is not likely. India draws near. 
 I received a letter from the Peninsular and Oriental 
 Steamship Company last week, saying they had re- 
 served a berth for me on the steamer which leaves 
 Venice the first day of December. 
 
 All this about myseK. I wonder how it is with you 
 all. Are you drowned out ? And is General Butler 
 going to be Governor of Massachusetts ? I have had 
 no letters this week, but shall get them at Heidelberg. 
 Autumn is here and you are all getting back. I wish 
 I could look in on Boston for a day. . . . 
 
 Ever affectionately, P. 
 
 Heidelberg, October 8, 1882. 
 
 Dear William, — I suppose that Bishop Williams 
 is preaching to-day at Trinity, so you are all consider- 
 ably better off than if your own dear pastor were at 
 home. . . . 
 
 It has been a very pleasant week for me, but not 
 an eventful one. On Monday I went to Giessen and 
 saw the university and one or two of the professors. 
 It is one of the smaller universities, but a very in- 
 teresting one. Then I went to Worms, which I had 
 seen before, but at which I wanted to get another look 
 
212 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 that I might see some things relating to Luther. 
 From there I came to beautiful Heidelberg, and have 
 been here since Tuesday night. You saw Heidelberg, 
 and know something of how beautiful it is. Just now 
 the hill on which the castle stands is one mass of 
 splendid color ; almost as bright as anything that one 
 sees in our American woods are the trees in this valley 
 of the Neckar. I have my German teacher here and 
 the use of a library, where I go every day, so I am far 
 from being idle. Here probably I shall stay through 
 this week, and then begin slowly to work back to Ber- 
 lin, where I want to get a week or two more before I 
 start for the south. 
 
 Egypt looks now as if one might find his way 
 through, but there are great difficulties to be over- 
 come before the question of its government is settled, 
 and all Europe is such a tinder-box that a general war 
 may be lighted at any moment. Just at present it 
 does not seem as if any of the great powers wanted 
 much to fight. Certainly Germany does not. The 
 general feeling among her people seems to be a sort of 
 dull disappointment with the results of the last war. 
 It has not brought the country either the wealth or 
 the freedom that they hoped. Germany is poor, and 
 Bismarck's watchful and jealous eye is on everything. 
 The people are proud of their splendid army, but they 
 feel the drain of it tremendously. . . . 
 
 There will be no war this winter, and I shall go 
 to India as quietly as possible in December. You 
 must be just about getting up in Boston. Good-morn- 
 ing to you aU ! 
 
 Most affectionately, P. 
 
WURTZBURG. 213 
 
 WuRTZBURG, October 15, 1882. 
 
 My dear Gertie, — I owe you a letter ; indeed, I 
 am afraid that I owe you more than one, but we won't 
 be very particular about that. You shall write as 
 often as you can, and so will I, and then we will call 
 it square. 
 
 You ought to have a great deal more to say than I, 
 because Boston is a great deal livelier place than 
 Wurtzburg, and besides you have lived in Boston all 
 your life, and know lots of people there whom I should 
 like to hear about (including Susie), while I have been 
 here only since yesterday, and know but one person ; 
 and you would not care to hear about him, for he is 
 only a stupid old professor. But you would like to go 
 down the queer old streets and see the funny houses ; 
 and you would have liked to see the big church 
 crowded with people, that I saw this afternoon, and 
 heard them sing as if they would shake all the carved 
 and painted saints down off the walls. I wish that 
 once before I die I could hear the people sing like 
 that in Trinity Church in Boston. But I never shall. 
 It was a great day in the church here to-day, because 
 it was the thousandth anniversary of the death of the 
 man who built the first church here long before you 
 were born, and so they had a great procession, and 
 went down into the crypt under the church, where he 
 is buried, and sung a Te Deum. I wish you had been 
 there with me. 
 
 Then there is a tremendous great palace where the 
 bishops used to live. . . . Nobody lives there now, be- 
 cause bishops are not such great people as they used 
 to be ; but you can go through it all, and see the 
 splendid rooms, and there is the loveliest old garden 
 behind it, with fountains and statues and beautiful 
 
214 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 old trees, where the people go and walk about on 
 pleasant afternoons, and a band plays. If you and 
 I ever spend an afternoon in Wurtzburg, we will go 
 there. 
 
 I wonder if you have been at Trinity to-day, and 
 who preached, and whether you know the text, and 
 whether Sunday-school has begun. 
 
 I am on my way from Heidelberg to Berlin. After 
 I have stayed there for a week or two, I shall go to 
 Dresden and Prague and Vienna and Venice, and I 
 have got a ticket to sail in the Poonah from Venice 
 for Bombay on the first day of December. It is not 
 as pretty a name as the Servia, and the ship is only 
 about half as big ; but she is a very good vessel, and 
 I have no doubt she will get out there safely before 
 Christmas. I wish you would come to Venice and see 
 me off, as you did to New York. Good-night and 
 pleasant dreams. Give my love to everybody and 
 don't forget 
 
 Your affectionate uncle Phillips. 
 
 Hotel du Nord, Beklin, October 22, 1882. 
 
 Dear William, — Just think of its being four 
 months ago yesterday since you saw the Servia sail. 
 More than a quarter of my long vacation gone. 
 Why, I shall be walking in on you before you know 
 it ! And when I hear the report of the first Simday 
 of October at Trinity, and all about Bishop Beckwith's 
 long and eloquent sermon, it seems as if I were within 
 speaking distance of you all the time. 
 
 I reached here yesterday, after one of the pleasantest 
 journeys I have ever made. Now it seems like getting 
 home, to come to this familiar Berlin again. The folks 
 seem to recognize me upon the streets, and all the 
 
BERLIN, 215 
 
 swell guards about the royal palace looked as if they 
 wanted to salute me, but were not quite sure that it 
 was right. I spent three days this last week at Leip- 
 sic. It is a very curious town, full of business, I be- 
 lieve, but apparently given up to music and education. 
 The hosts of students on the streets, and the multi- 
 tudes of concerts everywhere, seem to shut out every- 
 thing else. I actually went to two concerts myseK, 
 one of them a high Wagner affair, with the most se- 
 lect and high-toned musical audience. I thought I 
 should be glad to see what it was like, and I was sur- 
 prised to find that I rather liked it. I saw one or two 
 professors, who were very civil, and showed me all 
 there was to see. It is rather a depressing place, I 
 think, to one who is conscious of knowing nothing in 
 particular, and having only a general smattering of 
 a lot of things. Everybody there is a specialist. One 
 man is giving himself up to Arabic, another to San- 
 skrit, another to cuneiform inscriptions, and another 
 to a particular sort of bug. So every man has some 
 subject, on which he talks you out of your depth in 
 half a minute. It must be a delightful thing to think 
 that you know anything, however small, through and 
 through. If I were twenty-five years younger, and 
 not minister of Trinity Church, I should go to Leip- 
 sic and stay there till I knew something, so that no 
 scholar in the world could puzzle me. Then I would 
 come home and go into general life with that one lit- 
 tle corner of omniscience always kept to fall back 
 upon when I was reminded in some one of the ways 
 (in which I am constantly reminded) of what an igno- 
 ramus I am. But it is no use now. And I must go 
 on with my basket of broken victuals to the end. 
 So you are back in Boston, and the summer was a 
 
216 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 great success. I am very glad of it. Who knows but 
 some day the old Andover house may be our summer 
 home, as a fixed thmg, with a pretty little establish- 
 ment that will make summer as domestic and regular 
 a time as winter. It would certainly not be bad. 
 I am glad the children were pleased with the book. 
 I thought they might like it. ... 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 H6tbl du Nord, Berlin, October 29, 1882. 
 
 Dear William, — How the weeks go, don't they ? 
 It seems impossible that seven days have slipped by 
 since I wrote you last Sunday. But they have, and 
 they have been very pleasant ones here. Delightful 
 weather, — a sort of Indian summer, such as we used to 
 look for in Boston, and never quite knew whether we 
 had it or not. I can hear father and aunt Susan at 
 the old table in Rowe Street, debating about it now, 
 
 Berlin is quite different on my return from what it 
 was when I left it. The people are back, the streets 
 are crowded, and everything is in full blast. The 
 university lectures began last Monday, and there are 
 no end of them all the time. It is the freest sort 
 of institution. The doors of every lecture-room stand 
 wide open, and any stranger may go in. This week I 
 have been like a college student, going to hear what 
 the great men have to say about theology and other 
 things. I have German enough now to follow a lec- 
 ture quite satisfactorily, and you do not know how I 
 enjoy it. Of course I have not taken up any sys- 
 tematic course of attendance. My time is too short 
 for that. I only roam round and pick up what I can 
 and fill it out with reading from the books of the same 
 men, a good many of which I have. There are four 
 
BERLIN. 217 
 
 thousand other students here in Berlin, so that one 
 can go and come in the great university quite as he 
 pleases, and be entirely unnoticed. 
 
 A good many people who were away when I was 
 here before have come back, so that I have as much 
 social life as I want. The Bunsens have gone to Eng- 
 land, but Dr. Abbott is here. I go there when I feel 
 like it, and always meet pleasant people. Then there 
 is a certain Dr. Kapp, who used to live in New York, 
 and is now a member of Parliament here, who has 
 been very civil; Professor Hermann Grimm, who 
 wrote the Life of Michael Angelo and other things, 
 and one of the university provosts. Dr. Gneist, who 
 styles himself on his card " Oberverwaltungsgerichts- 
 rath^'^ — that 's his title. 
 
 It is very pleasant to see how quietly and simply 
 these scholars live, and what cordial, earnest folks 
 they are. I have also seen something of the ministers, 
 but I do not think I like them so much as the scholars. 
 German religion seems to be eaten up with controversy, 
 and is hampered everywhere by its connection with 
 the state. There is a certain Pastor Stocke here, at 
 whose house I have been, who is the political character 
 of the town. . . . He and the rest are doing very good 
 work among the poor. 
 
 They have just been having an election for members 
 of the Reichstag, or Parliament, which has been very 
 interesting to follow in the papers and in the talk of 
 the people, though one saw nothing to indicate elec- 
 tion day in the streets. 
 
 This week I leave here for good, and go to Dresden, 
 where I shall get a week for art. The beautiful gal- 
 lery there I have never thoroughly seen. I shall have 
 my books too, and do some studying. Then Vienna, 
 
218 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA, 
 
 where there are splendid pictures also, then Venice 
 and India. 
 
 My heart stood still for a minute the other day 
 when I opened the paper which you sent me and saw 
 " Trinity Church on Fire." When I found that they 
 had put it out and that it was only going to cost the 
 Corporation §50, I sang a small Te Deum, and con- 
 cluded to go on with my journey. Thank you for all 
 your letters. They always tell me just what I want to 
 know, and cheer me immensely. . . . 
 
 . . . Think of me on Thanksgiving Day in Venice. 
 I shall think of you and wish that we were all in 
 Clarendon Street. My love to M and the chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 Hotel du Nord, Berlin, October 30, 1882. 
 
 Johnny dear, — I don't want to break up my life 
 in Berlin, as I shall in a few days, without writing to 
 you from what has become very like home to me. 
 How I wish you were here this morning. First, we 
 would have a quiet after-breakfast smoke and talk, 
 then we would put on our hats and stroll across the 
 street to the university, where there are some forty 
 lecture-rooms, a professor hard at work in each of 
 them, and the whole thing open to anybody who chooses 
 to drop in. We could hear Dillman firing away at 
 the Old Testament, Weiss exegesing on St. Luke's 
 Gospel, Pfleiderer discoursing on the Philosophy of 
 Religion, or Steinmeyer haranguing on Church His- 
 tory. Hengstenberg is dead, and so is Baumgarten- 
 Crusius, your friend. There are plenty more of them 
 left, and if we grew tired of Berlin to-day, why we 
 could run down to Leipsic to-morrow, where the the* 
 
BERLIN. 219 
 
 ology is rather richer than it is here, and where we 
 could hear Luthardt and Delitzsch. We should not 
 understand all that these men said, but a great deal of 
 it would be clear enough, and there would be lots to 
 think and talk about when we came out. Then after 
 an hour or two of this we would go into the Thiergar- 
 ten, the most fascinating park in Europe, and perfectly 
 delightful on these Indian summer days. There we 
 would wander about and talk some more. We would 
 come home to a queer dinner at four o'clock, and, 
 if you liked, at half past six we could go to the thea- 
 tre and see a play of Schiller, or, if you preferred, go 
 to see some pleasant people, who are abundant and 
 always hospitable in this cheerful, busy town. Then 
 we 'd come home and smoke and talk some more ever 
 so late. You must come quickly, or we cannot do 
 this, because I am starting Wednesday, — bound for 
 Dresden, Vienna, and Venice, whence I sail on the 
 1st of December. 
 
 It has all been very delightful and wholly different 
 from any experience which I have ever had before in 
 Europe. I shall remember Berlin and many of the 
 people in it with delight. There are hosts of Amer- 
 ican students here, but they hide themselves in Ger- 
 man families as much as possible, and one sees little 
 of them. There is much work being done, and the 
 thoroughness of their real scholars makes me feel 
 awfully superficial and ashamed. 
 
 I am delighted to hear how very successful your 
 house and your summer have been. I hope that they 
 have put you in splendid condition for the winter. 
 . . . Another year I shall be there again, and mean- 
 while you will tell me all about it, won't you? I 
 think the beauty of being here for a while is that it 
 
220 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 makes the things at home which really are worth 
 caring for seem all the more precious. 
 
 Now I am going out to hear a lecture, then I shall 
 go into the Gallery for an hour, then take a German 
 lesson, and get a little more of this good place before I 
 leave it. Think of me often, and be sure I think of 
 you. . . . My love to Hattie and the babies. 
 
 Ever affectionately, P. 
 
 H6tel Bellevue, Dresden, 
 November 5, 1882. 
 
 Dear William, — The scene is changed, and this 
 is Dresden, instead of Berlin. I left that big town for 
 good on Thursday, and shall not see it again ; but I 
 have had a first-rate time there, and shall remember 
 it most pleasantly. Dresden is prettier than Berlin, 
 and the Sistine Madonna is over there in the Museum, 
 so I am enjoying a few days here very much indeed. 
 I get a good deal of time for reading my German, and 
 am just beginning to get up the books on India, which 
 now seems to be drawing very near. 
 
 I have no friends here, except one or two families, 
 to whom my Berlin friends introduced me, but that 
 does not so much matter for a few days. Robert 
 Gushing and his family are staying in this hotel. 
 Henry Potter, his wife and three children, are living 
 in town. I dined with them last night. This morn- 
 ing I preached at the American church, and this 
 evening I have promised to preach for the Scotch 
 Presbyterians, so it is rather more like Sunday than 
 any first day of the week that I have passed for a 
 good while. I shall leave here probably Wednesday, 
 and after stopping a few days in Prague, shall go to 
 Vienna, where I hope to make a considerable stay. 
 
PRAGUE. 221 
 
 Think of me there when you get this letter. Of course 
 you have seen the terrible accounts of the floods on 
 the southern side of the Tyrolese mountains. Among 
 their smaller mischiefs, they make the access to Ven- 
 ice very uncertain, so that I am not quite sure how I 
 shall get at my steamer. I shall get there somehow, 
 probably by rail from Vienna to Trieste, and thence 
 by sea to Venice. 
 
 Your last letter brought things at home up to the 
 16th of October. Perry had just preached in Trin- 
 ity. Does it not seem strange to think how long 
 ago it was that he used to be with Dr. Vinton at 
 St. Paul's, and that we are the same fellows as the 
 boys who used to listen to him there ? The minister 
 of the American church, for whom I preached to-day, 
 is a Mr. Caskey, who succeeded Arthur in Williams- 
 port. What a time we would have before the Ma- 
 donna to-morrow, if you were only here ; the concerts 
 and operas in Dresden are tremendous. No matter ; 
 some day when I get back we will go to the Art Mu- 
 seum and the Music Hall together, and make believe 
 that it is pretty little Dresden. . . . 
 
 Prague, November 12, 1882. 
 . . . You never saw Prague, did you ? You must 
 some day. It is immensely curious and picturesque. 
 It is Austrian, and Austria is poor stuff by the side of 
 Germany. Austria really seems to be no nation at 
 all, made up as it is of a heap of people and languages, 
 which have no association with each other. Germany 
 has ideas, and a great notion of her future, and of 
 having a mission in the world. All that makes her 
 interesting. Austria has nothing of the kind, and her 
 petty tyranny is endless. These riots in Vienna are 
 
222 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 signs of what a suppressed and discontented life her 
 people lead. But still she is worth seeing, and for 
 two weeks I shall be on her soil. Thanksgiving Day 
 I spend in Venice, and the next day the Poonah sails, 
 so think of me as you eat your turkey, dining at Dani- 
 elis, and direct your letters after you get this, until 
 further notice, to the care of Messrs. Lang, Moir & 
 Co., Bombay. 
 
 Will you do an errand for me ? Will you go into 
 Williams's and get two copies of my " Influence of 
 Jesus" and send them to some Berlin friends, to 
 whom I have promised them ? 
 
 Gkand Hotel, Vienna, November 19, 1882. 
 Very private I ! 
 Dear Gertie, — This letter is an awful secret be- 
 tween you and me. If you tell anybody about it, I will 
 not speak to you all this winter. And this is what it 
 is about. You know Christmas is coming, and I am 
 afraid that I shall not get home by that time, and so 
 I want you to go and get the Christmas presents for the 
 children. The grown people will not get any from me 
 this year. But I do not want the children to go with- 
 out, so you must find out, in the most secret way, just 
 what Agnes and Toodie would most like to have, and 
 get it and put it in their stockings on Christmas Eve. 
 Then you must ask yourself what you want, but with- 
 out letting yourself know about it, and get it too, and 
 put it in your own stocking, and be very much sur- 
 prised when you find it there. And then you must 
 sit down and think about Josephine De Wolf and the 
 other baby at Springfield whose name I do not know, 
 and consider what they would like, and have it sent 
 
VIENNA, 223 
 
 to them in time to reach them on Christmas Eve. 
 Will you do all this for me ? You can spend five dol- 
 lars for each child, and if you show your father this 
 letter, he will give you the money out of some of mine 
 which he has got. That rather breaks the secret, but 
 you will want to consult your father and mother about 
 what to get, especially for the Springfield children ; so 
 you may tell them about it, but do not dare to let any 
 of the children know of it until Christmas time. Then 
 you can tell me in your Christmas letter just how you 
 have managed about it all. . . . 
 
 This has taken up almost all my letter, and so I 
 cannot tell you much about Vienna. Well, there is 
 not a great deal to tell. It is an immense great city 
 with very splendid houses and beautiful pictures and 
 fine shops and handsome people. But I do not think 
 the Austrians are nearly as nice as the ugly, honest 
 Germans. Do you ? 
 
 Perhaps you will get this on Thanksgiving Day. If 
 you do, you must shake the turkey's paw for me, and 
 tell him that I am very sorry I could not come this 
 year, but I shall be there next year certain ! Give 
 my love to all the children. I had a beautiful letter 
 from aunt Susan the other day, which I am going to 
 answer as soon as it stops raining. Tell her so, if you 
 see her. Be a good girl, and do not study too hard, 
 and keep our secret. 
 
 Your affectionate uncle Phillips. 
 
 Grand Hotel, Vienna, November 22, 1882. 
 
 Dear aunt Susan, — No letter since I left home 
 has given me more pleasure than yours which I re- 
 ceived a week ago. It took me back into North An- 
 dover, and made me feel as if we were aU in the little 
 
224 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 parlor, and the Austrian town which I could see out 
 of the window were all a dream. You were very 
 good indeed to keep your promise, and I hope I shall 
 hear from you more than once again before I drive 
 up to the side yard door next autumn. 
 
 . . . We had a small snowstoi-m here yesterday, 
 and to-day the hills around Vienna are all white with 
 snow. I wish you could escape the winter, as I mean 
 to do, by running down into countries where the only 
 trouble about winter weather is the heat. The second 
 week in December, when you get this, and when the 
 whole of North Andover is shivering with cold, we 
 shall be running down the Red Sea and trying to get 
 into the shade of anything to keep ourselves cool, and 
 looking over the side of the Poonah to see if we can 
 see any of Pharaoh's chariot-wheels. 
 
 It is eighteen years since I was in Vienna, on my 
 first European journey. Then I was on my way to 
 Palestine. One difference between that year abroad 
 and this I feel all the time. Then the old home in 
 Chauncy Street was still there, and father and mother 
 were both waiting to hear what one was doing, and 
 one of my pleasures was to write to them and to think 
 how I would tell them all about it when I got back. I 
 miss all that part of the interest of travel very much 
 now. Sometimes it is hard to realize that they are 
 not still there, and that I am not to write to them. At 
 this distance all that has come since I was here before 
 seems like a dream. 
 
 I hope by Christmas that the window in their mem- 
 ory will be in the little church. William writes me 
 that it is getting on, and I shall be glad to know that 
 it is fairly in its place. I hope it will be there for 
 years to keep people reminded of them. You must tell 
 
VENICE. 225 
 
 me how you like it when it is up. It seems as if we 
 came pretty near losing Trinity Church lately by fire. 
 It would have been a pretty hard thing to have to go to 
 work and build it all up again. As it is, they seem to 
 be having trouble with it in the way of repairs. I 
 hope your new church will tempt no incendiaries and 
 meet no accidents. 
 
 If I were in Boston I would come up to Andover this 
 afternoon. But as I am in Vienna, I can only send 
 this letter to tell you I am thinking of you. My best 
 love to aunt Sarah and aunt Caroline. 
 
 Your affectionate nephew Phillips. 
 
 Veotcb, November 26, 1882. 
 
 Dear William, — It is a rainy Sunday in Venice, 
 which, as you may imagine, is not a very cheerful 
 thing. The gondolas are dripping at the quay out- 
 side, and San Giorgio looks dull and dreary through 
 the mists. . . . Now that I have come home, and have 
 got a fire in my room, spread out my German books, 
 and lighted my pipe, everything is cheerful inside, 
 however dreary the outside may be. I have just come 
 here to get a few quiet days of Venice, before the 
 Poonah sails. She is here, lying in the harbor ; and 
 I have been on board and looked her over. She is a 
 beautiful, great vessel, with a big, broad deck and a 
 bright, pleasant cabin, looking as if she might be a 
 capital home for three weeks. . . . 
 
 My stateroom is on deck, with air all around it, and 
 I have it to myself, so I am counting very much upon 
 my voyage. How I wish you were going to take it 
 with me ! What delightful days and nights we would 
 have down the Red Sea and across the Indian Ocean ! 
 The officers of the ship say that at this season the ther- 
 
226 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 mometer does not go above seventy, even in the Red 
 Sea, and that there is never any chance of bad 
 weather in December between Suez and Bombay. It 
 seems to be the very perfection of ship life. . . . 
 
 I had a very good time in Vienna, where I stayed 
 about a week. I do not think I like the city much, 
 certainly not as well as Berlin. But then I knew 
 none of the people, which made a difference. The 
 Brimmers were there part of the time, and it was 
 pleasant to see them. Also Judge Endicott and his 
 family, who were at the hotel all the time I was there. 
 I am very sorry Mr. Brimmer could not go to India. 
 ... I shall go alone now, unless possibly a young 
 collegian of this last class at Cambridge, a friend of 
 Arthur's, Evert Wendell, should go on the same 
 steamer. I saw him in Berlin, and he wants to go and 
 has sent to ask his father's leave. 
 
 . . . The Venetians are going to have a great fete 
 and concert to-night and to-morrow in the piazza, for 
 the benefit of the sufferers by the floods. A month 
 ago the whole ground floor of this hotel was three feet 
 under water. I wish you would go to India with 
 me. . . . 
 
 Steamship Poonah, lying at Bbindisi, 
 Sunday, December 3, 1882. 
 
 Dear "William, — ... The Poonah is an old ship, 
 rather noisy, not at all fast, and not very clean. But 
 she is well arranged, and in good weather must be 
 very pleasant. The sail from Venice to Brindisi 
 has been cold, rough, and rainy. The Adriatic has 
 behaved badly. We could not touch at Ancona, 
 which is on the programme, because of the rough 
 weather. This Sunday morning is bright, but cold 
 
IN THE SUEZ CANAL. 227 
 
 and windy ; not a bit of suggestion of the tropics yet. 
 In a day or two we shall get it, and I only hope we 
 shall not get too much. The people on the Poonah, 
 so far, are not very interesting, but they are only a 
 few. The best are supposed to come on board here at 
 Brindisi, having come by rail from London, so I hope 
 when we sail to-morrow morning, we shall find our- 
 selves in the midst of that delightful society which 
 the voyage to India has always been said to furnish. 
 Young Wendell is on board, having turned up at the 
 last moment in Venice. He makes bright, pleasant 
 company, and we shall probably be together through 
 India. 
 
 Thanksgiving Day passed quietly in Venice. I did 
 not preaxjh, or even go to church, except to pay a fare- 
 well visit to St. Mark's. I dined with the Walleys. 
 They are staying in Venice, keeping house in an apart- 
 ment, and asked me to dine with them. We had a 
 turkey, and did the best we could to keep Thanks- 
 giving, and it went off well. . . . 
 
 Think of the Poonah, when you get this, as paddling 
 across the Indian Ocean, and wave your hat in that 
 direction. I shall see it and wave mine back. A 
 happy Christmas to you all. Now I am going on 
 shore to see Brindisi. 
 
 Steamship Poonah, in the Suez Canal, 
 December 9, 1882. 
 
 Dear Johnny, — You do not know what a queer- 
 looking thing this big ditch is, with the long stretches 
 of sand reaching out on either side, and the curious 
 effects of light everywhere in the distance, and the 
 superb blue sky, and our great steamer slowly plodding 
 along at about six miles an hour towards the Red Sea, 
 
228 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 And inside the steamer it is just as queer, a host of 
 wild-looking ruffians for sailors, and a lot of English- 
 men. It is all very pleasant and foreign. I have 
 been up on deck all the morning, looking at the 
 strange figures who occasionally appear on the banks, 
 watching the steamboats which pass us every now and 
 then, and talking with the Englishmen who are men- 
 tioned above. I have got a little tired of it all, so I 
 thought I would come down into the cabin and send 
 you a greeting which I will mail to-night at Suez, and 
 which you will get abnost, if not quite, in time to wish 
 you a Merry Christmas ! 
 
 What are you doing ? Every now and then there 
 comes some glimpse of the old life going on at home. 
 Sermons and convocations and clubs, and the winter 
 season with its work gradually thickening around 
 you. . . . 
 
 I wonder who will be up to the mark of honestly 
 admiring A. V. G. Allen's remarkable paper in the 
 " Princeton Review," and seeing how the change which 
 he has described so ably is every whit as important 
 and significant as the reformation of three hundred 
 years ago. Surely the club and the church ought to 
 be proud of the man who wrote the article. 
 
 Have you got some good carols for Christmas, and 
 a good text for your Christmas sermon ? I feel al- 
 most like writing one myself and asking some Hindoo 
 in Bombay to lend me his mosque in which to preach it. 
 
 I hope you went to the December club, and that it 
 was a success. I shall hear all about it in India and 
 will tell Chunder Sen. We are getting to Ismailia, 
 and I must go up on deck and see. Good-by. A 
 Merry Christmas and God bless you to you and Hattie 
 3,nd the children. Ever affectionately, P. 
 
SUEZ. 229 
 
 Suez, Sunday Morning, December 10, 1882. 
 
 Dear William, — We are just tying up to the 
 wharf in Suez, and nobody seems to know how long 
 we are to stay before we start on our voyage down the 
 Red Sea. I will write my Sunday letter at once, and 
 tell you that I have come thus far in happiness, health, 
 and safety, and in the Poonah. I sent Gertie a postal 
 card the other day from Alexandria, which I hope she 
 will excuse. I am not in the habit of sending postal 
 cards, but there was no other way. We were only 
 there for a very short time and all the time we had 
 was spent on shore. It was curious to see the results 
 of the war so close at hand. The great square of 
 Alexandria is all in ruins, and looks like Liberty 
 Square in Boston after the great fire. The forts which 
 brought on the bombardment are all banged to pieces, 
 and the guns are standing on their heads. There 
 must have been some wonderful firing on the English- 
 men's part. 
 
 Then we sailed over to Port Said, the steamer roll- 
 ing about badly in the long swell. There was plenty 
 of room at the dinner-table on Thursday. Port Said 
 looks as I remember seeing Lawrence look when father 
 took us there from grandmother's, one day when we 
 were boys. It is an extemporized town of shanties and 
 cheap buildings, with everything to sell, which it is 
 supposed that uncomfortable and extravagant travelers 
 wiU buy. Only the population does not look like 
 Lawrence people. They are brown Egyptians and 
 Nubians as black as coals, and a few British soldiers 
 with white pith helmets and red coats. 
 
 The sail down the canal has been delightful. The 
 air was fresh and bright as spring, yet had the warmth 
 of summer in it. The atmosphere was delightful, and 
 
230 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 though we sometimes ran between high banks of sand, 
 which hid everything, most of the time the view was 
 made up of long stretches of desert, reaching away to 
 distant hills, with effect of light and color on them, all 
 which were beautiful. This morning I saw out of my 
 stateroom window a glorious sunrise, just such as the 
 children of Israel must have seen on their famous trip 
 from Egypt into Palestine some years ago. We passed 
 yesterday Ismailia, where the British headquarters 
 were this autumn, and saw the way they started to 
 Tel El Kebir. And there we heard of the verdict in 
 Arabi's case, about which nobody seemed to care. 
 
 Now we really start upon our voyage. -Up to this 
 point has been mere preparation. Here the passengers 
 for Australia and Calcutta leave us, and we take on 
 board the passengers for Bombay, who have come all 
 the way by sea from London. We shall be quite a 
 new company. We have lost two or three days by 
 having to go through the canal, and shall not be in 
 Bombay certainly before the 22d, perhaps not till later. 
 I like the ship, the people, the life on board, and all is 
 going beautifully. Merry Christmas to you all. . . . 
 
 On the Poonah, December 15, 1882. 
 Dear William, — I write my Sunday letter this 
 week on Friday, because to-night we are to arrive at 
 Aden, and there can mail our epistles. There will not 
 be another chance until we come to Bombay. All 
 this week we have been running down the Red Sea. 
 The weather has been sultry and oppressive ; not par- 
 ticularly hot by the thermometer, but such weather as 
 makes one want to get in a draft and do nothing. In 
 the great cabin, the punkas are hung up, long cloth 
 fans, which are fastened to a rod that runs along 
 
ON THE POONAH. 231 
 
 the ceiling over the dining-table ; every meal-time 
 they are kept swinging by a long cord, which runs 
 through the skylight, and is attached at the other end 
 to a small Mohammedan on deck, who pulls, and pulls, 
 and pulls. We could hardly live without it. This 
 morning we were passing Mocha, where the coffee 
 comes from, and this afternoon we shall go through 
 Bab-el-Mandel. When we are once out into the Indian 
 Ocean, the special sultriness of the Eed Sea will be 
 over, and we shall have a week of charming sailing. 
 
 The ship is very comfortable, but she is old and 
 slow. She is four days behind her time, and we shall 
 not be at Bombay before Saturday, the 23d, more than 
 three weeks from the time we left Venice. But it has 
 been very pleasant. There is a miscellaneous and 
 interesting company on board. Here is the general 
 who led the cavalry charge at Tel El Kebir, and is 
 coming back from England after being decorated by 
 the Queen. Here is Lord Charles Beresford, who ran 
 his boat up under the guns at Alexandria at the time 
 of the bombardment, and did wonders of bravery. 
 Here is a young Cambridge parson, going out to a 
 missionary brotherhood at Delhi. Here are merchants 
 of Calcutta and Madras, whom one pumps continually 
 for information about India, — Englishmen, all of 
 them. At Bombay we shall break up, and I sup- 
 pose I shall stay there about a week, and then travel 
 by Delhi, Jeypore, Agra, Lucknow, AUahabad, and 
 Benares to Calcutta, taking about a month, bringing 
 us to Calcutta about the 1st of February. A week 
 there, a week's trip to the mountains, and a two weeks' 
 journey to Madras and its neighborhood, will bring 
 us to Ceylon about the 1st of March ; after a week 
 there we sail again, direct for Aden and Suez. So 
 
232 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 there is our winter. And you can tell about where 
 we are at any time. . . . 
 
 There is a long gap in letters. The last was yours, 
 which reached me just as I went on board at Venice. 
 The next will not come until the steamer after ours 
 reaches Bombay, but I am sure you are all well and 
 happy, and getting ready for Christmas in the old 
 cheerful fashion. I shall think of you all that day, as 
 I sit sweltering in church at Bombay. 
 
 Ever affectionately, P. 
 
 Bombay, Sunday, December 24, 1882. 
 
 Dear William, — In India at last ! And you do 
 not know how queer and beautiful it is. I will teU 
 you about it. On Friday night, at eleven o'clock, the 
 slow old Poonah dropped her anchor in the harbor 
 opposite the Apollo Bandar, which is the landing- 
 place of Bombay. That night we slept on board, but 
 by six the next morning we were in a boat and being 
 rowed to shore, where we had a joUy good breakfast 
 at Watson's Hotel. While we were eating it, two 
 gentlemen sent in their cards. One was Mr. George 
 A. Kittredge, who is the head of the Tramway Sys- 
 tem here. The other gentleman was Mr. Charles 
 Lowell, who is a son of the Rev. Dr. Lowell, who used 
 to be at St. Mark's School. These two gentlemen 
 insisted on taking charge of us during our stay in 
 Bombay. Lowell is in the banking business here. 
 We were immediately carried to his bungalow, and 
 here I write to you. 
 
 Fancy an enormous house, rambling into a series of 
 immense rooms, all on one floor, piazzas twenty feet 
 deep, immense chambers (in the middle of which 
 stand the beds), doors and windows wide open, the 
 
BOMBAY. 233 
 
 grounds filled with palms, bananas, and all sorts of 
 tropical trees, the song of birds, the chirp of insects 
 everywhere, and a dazzling sun blazing down on the 
 Indian Ocean in front. A dozen or more dusky Hin- 
 doo servants, barefooted, dressed in white, with bright 
 sashes around their waists and bright turbans on their 
 heads, are moving about everywhere, as still as cats, 
 and with no end of devotion to their little duties. One 
 of them seems to have nothing to do but to look after 
 me ; he has worked over my limited wardrobe till he 
 knows every shirt and collar better than I do myself. 
 He is now brushing my hat for the twelfth time this 
 morning. The life is luxurious. Quantities of de- 
 lightful fruit, cool lounging-places, luxurious chairs, a 
 sumptuous breakfast (or " tiffin," as we call it here), 
 and dinner table, and no end of kind attention. I am 
 writing in my room on the day before Christmas as if 
 it were a rather hot August morning at home. 
 
 Yesterday, we drove about the town and began our 
 sight of Indian wonders : Hindoo temples, with their 
 squatting ugly idols ; Mahommedan mosques ; bazaars 
 thronged with every Eastern race ; splendid English 
 buildings where the country is ruled ; a noble univer- 
 sity; Parsee merchants in their shops; great tanks 
 with the devotees bathing in them ; officers' bungalows, 
 with the handsome English fellows lounging about ; 
 wedding processions, with the bride of six years old 
 riding on the richly decorated horse behind the bride- 
 groom of ten, surrounded by their friends, and with a 
 tumult of horrible music ; markets overrunning with 
 strange and delicious fruits; wretched-looking saints 
 chattering gibberish and begging alms, — there is no 
 end to the interest and curiosity of it all ! And this 
 is dead winter in the tropics. I have out all my thin- 
 
234 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 nest clothes, and go about with an umbrella to keep 
 off the sun. This morning, we started at half past six 
 for a walk through the sacred part of the native town, 
 and now at ten it is too hot to walk any more till sun- 
 down. But there are carriages enough, and by and 
 by we go to church. I was invited to preach at the 
 cathedral, but declined. 
 
 We shall be in and about Bombay for about a 
 week. You must not think that we shall suffer from 
 the heat. This is the hottest place that we shall visit. 
 As soon as we leave here we shall be in the hills, and 
 by and by shall see the thermometer at zero. How I 
 shall think of you to-morrow ! It is holidays here, and 
 our friends have nothing to do but to look after us. 
 Banks close for four days ! Good-by, my love to you 
 all always. 
 
 BoMBAT, Tuesday, December 26. 
 Do you care to know how we spent Christmas ? I 
 will tell you. We arose in the cool of the morning at 
 six o'clock. After we had a cup of tea, some fruit and 
 bread and butter, the open carriage was at the door, 
 and we put on our pith helmets to keep off the sun, 
 and drove away. First we went to the Jain hospital 
 for animals. The Jains are a curious sect of Hin- 
 doos, and one of their ideas is the sacredness of ani- 
 mal life. So they have this great hospital, where they 
 gather all the sick and wounded animals they can find, 
 and cure them if they can, or keep them till they die. 
 The broken-legged cows, sick pigeons, mangy dogs, 
 and melancholy monkeys are very curious. We stayed 
 there a while, and then drove to the Parsee burial- 
 place. The Parsees are Persian sun-worshipers, who 
 have been settled here for centuries, and are among 
 
BOMBAY, 235 
 
 the most intelligent and enterprising citizens. Their 
 pleasant way of disposing of their dead is to leave a 
 body on a high tower, where vultures devoted to that 
 business come, and in about an hour consume all its 
 flesh, leaving the bones, which, after four weeks of 
 drying in the sun, are tumbled into a common pit, 
 where they all crumble together into dust. You see 
 the towers with the vultures waiting on top for the 
 next arrival, but no one is allowed to enter. 
 
 Then we came home and had our breakfast, after 
 which we drove into the town, whence I sent a telegram 
 of " Merry Christmas " to you at eleven o'clock. We 
 went to the service at the Cathedral, which was very 
 good. . . . Then I drove out to the Government House, 
 where the Governor, Sir James Fergusson, had invited 
 me to lunch. Very pleasant people were there, and 
 the whole thing was interesting. The drive out and in, 
 about four miles each way, was through the strangest 
 population, and in the midst of the queerest sights. 
 After my return (I went there alone) we wandered 
 about the native bazaars and saw their curious trades. 
 At eight o'clock, Mr. Kittredge gave us a sumptuous 
 dinner at the BycuUa Club, where with turkey, plum 
 pudding, and mince-pies, we made the best which we 
 knew how of that end of Christmas Day. After that, 
 about ten o'clock, we wandered out into a native fair, 
 where we saw their odd performances until late into 
 the night, when we drove home along the cool sea- 
 shore, and went to bed tired but happy, after the fun- 
 niest Christmas Day we ever passed. 
 
 We go off now for a short trip to Karli and Poonah 
 to see some curious old Buddhist temples. When we 
 get back from there, we start for a long journey to 
 Ahmadabad, Jeypore, Delhi, Lahore, Agra, Lucknow, 
 
236 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 Cawnpore, Allahabad, Benares, and Calcutta. This 
 will take three weeks or a month. 
 
 I hope you had a happy Christmas. And now a 
 happy New Year to you ! Hurrah for 1883 ! I hope 
 you will have a splendid watch-meeting and think 
 of me. . . . 
 
 Bombay, January 2, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — A happy New Year to you! 
 May 1883 be the happiest of any yet ! I see no reason 
 why it should not be. We shall not frisk about quite 
 as much as we did thirty years ago, when we were boys. 
 For all that, there are soberer joys even for such old 
 chaps as you and I, and if the birds fly somewhat more 
 sluggishly than of old, why perhaps it will be all the 
 easier to get the salt on their tails. So a happy New 
 Year to you ! The new year broke on me as I was 
 driving in a tonga from Deogaon to Nandgaon. A 
 tonga is a queer sort of dogcart, drawn by two sharp 
 little ponies with a yoke over their necks, as if they 
 were oxen ; — you see we have been spending a good 
 part of the last week in going up to the hills to see 
 the wonderful Buddhist and Braminical caves and 
 temples. Sunday we spent in a bungalow on the top 
 of a hot hill, out of which two thousand years ago 
 these wonderful people hewed these marvelous affairs. 
 
 Think of a structure bigger than Trinity Church, 
 with spires, columns, and domes a hundred feet high, 
 which is not a structure at all, but is carved out of 
 solid rock and hewn into chambers, corridors, court- 
 yards, and shrines ; covered, in almost every inch of 
 its surface inside and out, with sculptures, some very 
 big and stately, some as fine as jewels, and all full of 
 the most interesting religious and historical meaning. 
 
BOMBAY. 237 
 
 Think of that, old fellow ! That is the most splen- 
 did of the caves, but there are thirty-five of them, 
 all more or less wonderful, and some almost as fine 
 as this. We spent Sunday there, and Sunday night 
 about ten o'clock (for you do everything you can 
 by night to avoid the heat) we took our tongas 
 and drove six hours down from EUora, where the 
 caves are, to the railway. On the way, just as we 
 were stopping to change ponies, and some half -naked 
 Hindoos were howling to each other over their ar- 
 rangement, and the Southern Cross was blazing in the 
 sky, and the moon struggling up, 1883 came tripping in. 
 I thought of you at home, and wondered whether you 
 were having a watch-meeting and what you thought of 
 the New Year ; then I remembered it was only three 
 o'clock in Boston, and that you were just going to 
 afternoon church. So I tumbled back into the tonga 
 again and we jolted on. 
 
 You see I am getting somewhat at the country. It 
 is interesting far beyond anything I expected. Our 
 friends, Kittredge and Lowell, have been more kind 
 and devoted than you can imagine. No one in a week 
 could have seen more, or seen it better, than we. This 
 afternoon we leave Bombay and launch out for our- 
 selves. We have a capital fellow for a traveling ser- 
 vant, a dusky gentleman with a turban and a petti- 
 coat, a low-caste Hindoo named Huri. When you get 
 this, about the 1st of February, we shall have passed 
 through northern India and shall be in Calcutta. In 
 a day or two we shall get out of excessive heat, and 
 not be troubled with it again until we leave Calcutta 
 for southern India. I am splendidly well. My young 
 traveling companion is very pleasant. I love you all 
 very much, and hope you will remember 
 
 Phillips. 
 
238 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA, 
 
 Bankapub, Tuesday, January 3, 1883. 
 
 Dear Lizzie,^ — Since I wrote you, we have come 
 over from Benares, and to-day have been making a 
 delightful excursion to Buddh-gaya, where, as Sir 
 Edwin Arnold tells us so prettily, Gautama sat six 
 years imder a bo-tree, and thought and thought, until 
 at last the DukharSatya was opened to him, and Bud- 
 dhism began. In these days, when a large part of 
 Boston prefers to consider itself Buddhist rather than 
 Christian, I consider this pilgrimage to be the duty 
 of a minister who preaches to Bostonians, and so this 
 morning before sunrise we started for Gaya and the 
 red Barabar Hills. 
 
 We had slept in the railway station, which is not 
 an uncommon proceeding in the out of the way parts 
 of India, where there is no pretense of a hotel, and 
 where you do not know anybody to whose bungalow 
 you can drive up, as you can to that of almost any 
 man to whom you ever bowed in the street. They are 
 a most hospitable folk, only when you go to stay with 
 them you are expected to bring your own bedding and 
 your own servant, which saves them lots of trouble. 
 Think of my appearing at your door some afternoon 
 with a mattress and Katie. We had to drive ten 
 miles in a rattling gharry, and as we went the sun 
 rose just as it did on Buddha, in the same landscape 
 in the fifth book of the " Light of Asia," which (as 
 you see) I have been reading with the greatest in- 
 terest. We had to walk the last two miles, because 
 the ponies, who must have been Mohammedans, would 
 not go any farther. It was a glorious morning, and 
 by and by we suddenly turned into an indescriba- 
 ble ravine. One tumbled mass of shrines and mon- 
 uments, hundreds on hundreds of them, set up for the 
 ^ A sister in law. 
 
BANKAPUR. 239 
 
 last two thousand years by pilgrims. In the midst, 
 two hundred feet high, a queer fantastic temple 
 (which has been rebuilt again and again) which has 
 in it the original Buddha figure of Asoka's time ; a su- 
 perb great altar statue, calm as eternity, and on the 
 outside covered with gold-leaf, the seat on which the 
 Master sat those six long years. The bo-tree has de- 
 parted long ago, and the temples were not there when 
 he was squatting and meditating, but the landscape was 
 the same, and though this is one of the places where 
 thousands of pilgrims come from both the Buddhist 
 and the Brahmin worlds, the monuments which they 
 set up are not as interesting as the red hills on one 
 side, and the open plain on the other, which Sakya 
 must have seen when he forgot for a moment to gaze 
 at the soles of his own feet and looked upon the 
 outer world. 
 
 It is a delightful country, this India, and now the 
 climate is delightful. The Indian winter is like the 
 best of our Indian summer, and such mornings and 
 midnights you never saw. We had two weeks in 
 Delhi, because my companion, Evert Wendell, must 
 needs pick up the small-pox. It is rather good to 
 know one town of a great country so well as I know 
 that, and it is on the whole, I suppose, the most inter- 
 esting town in India. I think I know every one of 
 its superb old tombs by heart. Wendell could not 
 have chosen a better place, if he was bound to do 
 such a ridiculous thing at all. 
 
 I wished you a happy New Year when the old year 
 left us in the midst of a night drive among the hills. 
 I hope you felt my wish around the globe, or through 
 it, which ever way wishes go. May everything go 
 beautifully with you. May you get all you want and 
 
240 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 nothing wliicli you do not want. It will be bad for 
 you, but it will be pleasant. May the new church be 
 better even than you expect. May you get any num- 
 ber of dry concerts and delightful books. May I come 
 and see you flourishing gloriously through it all next 
 September. I am not sure just what you want, but, 
 whatever it is, may you get it abundantly. Give my 
 best love to Arthur, and write me all about what you 
 are doing. Affectionately, P. 
 
 Jetpore, January 7, 1883. 
 
 My dear Gertie, — I wish you had been here with 
 me yesterday. We would have had a beautiful time. 
 You would have had to get up at five o'clock, for at 
 six the carriage was at the door, and we had already 
 had our breakfast. But in this country you do every- 
 thing you can very early, so as to escape the hot sun. 
 It is very hot in the middle of the day, but quite cold 
 now at night and in the mornings and evenings. Well, 
 as we drove into the town (for the bungalow where we 
 are staying is just outside), the sun rose and the streets 
 were full of light. 
 
 The town is all painted pink, which makes it the 
 queerest-looking place you ever saw, and on the outsides 
 of the pink houses there are pictures drawn, some of 
 them very solemn and some very funny, which makes it 
 very pleasant to drive up the street. We drove through 
 the street, which was crowded with camels and elephants 
 and donkeys, and women wrapped up like bundles, 
 and men chattering like monkeys, and monkeys them- 
 selves, and naked little children rolling in the dust, 
 and playing queer Jeypore games. All the little girls, 
 when they get to be about your age, hang jewels in 
 their noses, and the women all have their noses look- 
 
JEYPORE. 241 
 
 ing beautiful in this way. I have got a nose jewel for 
 you, which I shall put in when I get home, and also a 
 little button for the side of Susie's nose, such as the 
 smaller children wear. Think how the girls at school 
 will admire you. 
 
 Well, we drove out the other side of the queer pink 
 town, and went on toward the old town, which they 
 deserted a hundred years ago, when they built this. 
 The priest told the rajah, or king, that they ought not 
 to live more than a thousand years in one place, and 
 so, as the old town was about a thousand years old, 
 the king left it; and there it stands about five miles 
 off, with only a few beggars and a lot of monkeys for 
 inhabitants of its splendid palaces and temples. As 
 we drove along toward it, the fields were full of pea^ 
 cocks and all sorts of bright-winged birds, and out of 
 the ponds and streams the crocodiles stuck up their 
 lazy heads and looked at us. 
 
 The hills around are full of tigers and hyenas, but 
 they do not come down to the town, though I saw a 
 cage of them there which had been captured only about 
 a month and were very fierce. Poor things ! When 
 we came to the entrance of the old town, there was a 
 splendid great elephant waiting for us, which the rajah 
 had sent. He sent the carriage, too. The elephant 
 had his head and trunk beautifully painted, and 
 looked almost as big as Jumbo. He knelt down, and 
 we climbed up by a ladder and sat upon his back, and 
 then he toiled up the hill. I am afraid he thought 
 Americans must be very heavy, and I do not know 
 whether he could have carried you. Behind us, as we 
 went up the hill, came a man leading a little black 
 goat, and when I asked what it was for, they said it 
 was for sacrifice. It seems a horrid old goddess has 
 
242 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 a temple on the hill, and years ago they used to sac- 
 rifice men to her, to make her happy and kind. But 
 a merciful rajah stopped that, and made them sacri- 
 fice goats instead, and now they give the horrid old 
 goddess a goat every morning, and she likes it just 
 as well. 
 
 When we got into the old town, it was a perfect 
 wilderness of beautiful things, — lakes, temples, pal- 
 aces, porticos, all sorts of things in marble and fine 
 stones, with sacred long-tailed monkeys running over 
 all. But I must tell you all about the goddess, and 
 the way they cut off the poor goat's little black head, 
 and all the rest that I saw, when I get home. Don't 
 you wish you had gone with me ? 
 
 Give my love to your father and mother and Agnes 
 and Susie. I am dying to know about your Christ- 
 mas and the presents. Do not forget your affection- 
 ate uncle Phillips. 
 
 Cambridge Mission, Delhi, January 10, 1883. 
 
 Dear Johnny, — A happy New Year to you and 
 
 H and both the babies. I received a beautiful 
 
 letter from you in Bombay, which deserves a better 
 answer than I am afraid it will get from me before 
 dinner is ready. It was full of the spirit of home 
 work, and of all those pleasant things to which I shall 
 be glad enough to get back by and by, pleasant as it 
 is meanwhile to be wandering in these queer places. 
 
 Do you see where I am writing ? On the voyage 
 from Aden to Bombay I met a young Church of Eng- 
 land missionary, with whom I had a good deal of talk, 
 and who asked me, when I came to Delhi, to put up 
 with him. So here we are. Three young fellows, all 
 
DELHI. 243 
 
 graduates of Cambridge, scholars and gentlemen, live 
 here together, and give themselves to missionary work. 
 They have some first-rate schools, and are just start- 
 ing a high-class college. They preach in the bazaars, 
 and have their mission stations out in the country, 
 where they constantly go. I have grown to respect 
 them thoroughly. Serious, devoted, seK-sacrificing 
 fellows they are, rather high churchmen, but thought- 
 ful and scholarly, and with all the best broad church 
 books upon their shelves. They are jolly, pleasant 
 companions as possible, and yesterday I saw a cricket 
 match between their school and the Government school 
 here, in which one of these parsons played a first-rate 
 bat. Under their guidance I have seen very thor- 
 oughly this wonderful old city, the great seat of the 
 Mogul Empire, excessively rich in the best Moham- 
 medan architecture. 
 
 How I wish you would ask me something about the 
 Aryans, Davidians, about Brahmins, or Buddhists, or 
 Parsees, or Mussulmans, or Jains. I could tell you 
 all about them, but perhaps you do not care so much 
 as one gets to care here, where the snarly old history 
 becomes a little bit untangled, and you get immensely 
 interested in the past of this enormous people. One 
 goes about picking up all sorts of bits and piecing 
 them together. To-day it is a Cambridge missionary. 
 Yesterday it was a traveling Calcutta Brahmin. Last 
 week it was a Parsee merchant, with whom I got a 
 scrap of talk, and all the time there are wonderful 
 sights, — Buddhist caves, Jain temples, woods full of 
 monkeys and peacocks, rides on elephants, visits to 
 the English governors, and, first of all, three or four 
 charming days at the Bombay bungalow of Charles 
 Lowell. 
 
244 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA, 
 
 I wish you were here, and we could talk it all over, 
 and to-morrow night start together for Amritsir and 
 Lahore. But you are not, and I am afraid you do 
 not feel very much interest in the Punjaub and the 
 Sikhs just at present. You will whenever you come 
 here. Meanwhile you must be getting your sermon 
 ready for the second Sunday after Epiphany. I am 
 sure that it will be a good one and wish that I could 
 hear it. And by the time you get this, Lent will be 
 close upon you, and all those hard questions about 
 Confirmation and Lent service will be crowding you. 
 . . . God bless you, Johnny. Love to all. 
 
 Delhi, January 14, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — I write you a rather unexpected 
 letter to-day, for the last week has been different from 
 
 what I looked for. Last Sunday I wrote to G 
 
 from Jeypore. On Sunday night we left that place and 
 came to Delhi, reaching here on Monday at noon. We 
 intended to stay till Thursday, and then go to Lahore. 
 But this is what happened : Wendell had not been feel- 
 ing very well, and when we arrived, it seemed best that 
 we should see a doctor. The doctor at once told him 
 that he had the Indian fever, and must go to bed. In 
 two days the fever was broken, then it came out that 
 behind the fever he had the small-pox. Fortunately, 
 he is in good hands. On the Poonah was a young mis- 
 sionary, an English clergyman, belonging to an estab- 
 lishment here known as the Cambridge Mission. He 
 kindly insisted that when we came to Delhi we should 
 stay with him, and so when WendeU was taken down 
 it was at his house. Three of them (bachelors) keep 
 house together, and the kindness of them all, under 
 these very awkward circumstances, has been most won- 
 
DELHI. 245 
 
 derfuL I was in their house three days, but when I 
 found how things were looking, I insisted on going 
 to a hotel close by, for I found one of the ministers 
 was giving me his room, and going out every night to 
 sleep. So I am at the United Service Hotel, Wendell 
 lies at the Mission House, and I am constantly with 
 him. . . . 
 
 Delhi is an immensely interesting place, and it is 
 not a bad thing to see it thoroughly. It is the old 
 centre of Mohammedan power in India. Here the 
 Great Mogul ruled for years and years, and the great 
 Mosque is one of the wonders of the Mussulman world. 
 Here, too, was the centre of the great mutiny in 1857, 
 and the town is full of interesting points connected 
 with that history. And then the present life, both 
 Hindoo and Mohammedan, is vastly interesting. The 
 streets are endless pictures. This morning the Jumna 
 was full of bathers in the sacred stream. The bazaars 
 are crowded with the natives of all parts of India, 
 The processions of marriages and burials meet you 
 everywhere. The temples with their hideous gods are 
 all along the streets, and the fakirs go clinking their 
 begging-bowls everywhere. 
 
 At present there is particular excitement because 
 the Lieutenant-Governor of the Punjaub is here with 
 his whole suite. They entered the city yesterday 
 morning, with a train of elephants and camels, and all 
 the citizens in their best clothes turned out to see them. 
 Now they are encamped on a broad field, just below 
 the Mission, and they make a most picturesque array. 
 For days whole hosts of wretched-looking folk have 
 been sweeping the streets, dusting the temples, and 
 cleaning up everything in anticipation of the coming 
 of the Governor Sahib. 
 
246 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 Later, Sunday Afternoon. 
 I preached this morning in the English Church, 
 and had the usual English congregation. I am get- 
 ting so used to English people in these days that a real 
 American would seem a strange sort of creature. The 
 English are faithful to their duties here, and their In- 
 dian Civil Service ought to be the pattern of the world. 
 I wish that we had anything like it in America. The 
 trouble about the whole thing is, that the Englishman 
 does not really like the Indian and does not aim for 
 any real liking from him ; also the Englishman suffers 
 so in this terrible Indian climate that he cannot live 
 here permanently, and each officer is anxious to get 
 through his service, and get his pension and be off to 
 England. Such brave and devoted work as our mis- 
 sionary hosts are doing must tell, and the English 
 rulers are gradually getting the Indians fit for more 
 and more self-government. . . . 
 
 Delhi, January 21, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — Here I am at Delhi for another 
 Sunday. . . . The mission work is most nobly, sen- 
 sibly and faithfuUy done here. . . . Yesterday after- 
 noon, in the most desolate and degraded part of all 
 the town, as I stood with a little crowd under a tree, 
 with the hubbub of heathen life around us, with all 
 sorts of faces, stupid and bright, hostile, eager, and 
 scornful, I heard a native catechist preach the gospel 
 in Urdu, of which I could not understand a word, 
 and thought there could not be a better missionary 
 picture. A group of Sikh soldiers came up, splendid- 
 looking fellows, with fine faces, enormous turbans, and 
 curled beards, who entered into lively discussion with 
 the preacher, and for a time the debate ran very 
 
DELHI. 247 
 
 high. I could not make out which had the best of it, 
 but the catechist seemed to understand himself very 
 well. 
 
 The principal point of the Sikhs seemed to be that 
 what God made every man, he meant that man to con- 
 tinue, so there could be no good reason for changing 
 one's religion. But when the preacher asked them 
 how the Sikh religion (which is only about two hun- 
 dred years old) began, he rather had them. 
 
 Before Wendell's illness thoroughly declared its 
 character, I went off for a three days' trip to Lahore 
 and Amritsir, which was exceedingly interesting. They 
 are in the Sikh country, which is a region quite by it- 
 self, with the finest set of men in India and a religion 
 of its own. At Amritsir is their great place of wor- 
 ship, the Golden Temple, a superb structure, with the 
 lower half of most beautiful mosaic and the upper 
 half of golden plates, standing in the middle of an 
 enormous artificial lake, called the Lake of Immor- 
 tality. There is a beautiful white marble bridge con- 
 necting the island with the shore. I saw their pic- 
 turesque worship one morning, just after sunrise. 
 This was a very fine trip. . . . 
 
 The Lieutenant-Governor has been in camp here 
 for two weeks. Sir Charles Atchison, to whom I had 
 an introduction from Sir Richard Temple through Dr. 
 Eliot. Friday morning, a stunning menial in red and 
 yellow appeared on a camel at my door, with a note 
 saying that he (the Lieutenant-Governor, not the 
 jnenial) and Lady Atchison requested the pleasure 
 of my company at dinner. The doctor said it was 
 quite safe to go, and so I went. It was great fun. We 
 had a swell dinner in a gorgeous tent, with about 
 thirty persons, and no end of picturesque servants to 
 
248 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 wait on us. The Lieutenant-Governor was very pleas- 
 ant, and when I left promised me some more letters to 
 people in Calcutta. I took his daughter in to dinner, 
 and had a nice talk with her. She is a sensible young 
 Scotch lassie. Tell Dr. Eliot, if you see him, that 
 both here and in Bombay I owe very much to his kind 
 thoughtfulness. 
 
 I have been preaching again to-day, so that for 
 three Sundays I have been on duty. Of course these 
 are purely European congregations. A large part of 
 the congregation is soldiers, of whom there is a con- 
 siderable force stationed here. I wonder who preaches 
 at Trinity? No letters have reached me for some 
 time, but in a week I shall find some at Benares. 
 Then I shall learn about your winter, and get the bear- 
 ings of you almost up to Christmas time. When 
 you get this I shall be about in Madras, perhaps even 
 beyond, in Ceylon, with the Indian journey finished. 
 
 It is the most splendid weather possible now, 
 like our best May or early June weather. In the 
 mornings it is rather cold, and the natives go about 
 with most of their bedclothes wrapped about their 
 heads, though their legs are bare, and do not seem to 
 mind the cold. By ten or eleven o'clock they are sit- 
 ting in the sun, with almost everything off of them, 
 and burning themselves a shade or two more brown. 
 Their picturesquesness is endlessly interesting. But 
 I do wonder what is going on at home. I know you 
 are all well and that you wish I were with you. . . . 
 
 Benares, January 28, 1883. 
 
 My dear Mary, — ... This is the sacredest place 
 in India. There are five thousand Hindoo temples in 
 Benares. . . . You stumble at every step on a temple 
 
BENARES, 249 
 
 with its hideous idol, and if you hear a gentleman 
 muttering behind you in the street, he is not abus- 
 ing you, but only saying prayers to Vishnu or Siva, 
 who has a little shrine somewhere in the back yard 
 of the next house. There is one sweet temple to 
 their Monkey God, where they keep five hundred 
 monkeys. I went to this temple yesterday morning, 
 and the little wretches were running over everything, 
 and would hardly let you go, wanting you to feed them. 
 They are so sacred that if you hurt one of them, 
 you would have an awful time. It reminded me of 
 nothing so much as your drawing-room after dinner. 
 
 Then I went down to the Ganges, where hundreds 
 and hundreds of people were bathing in the sacred 
 river. Pilgrims from all over India had come to wash 
 their sins away, and were scrubbing themselves, as 
 thick as they could stand, for two miles along the bank 
 of the stream. It is a beautiful religion, at least in 
 this, that it keeps its disciples always washing them- 
 selves. . . . 
 
 By and by, we came to a place where, in a little 
 hollow by the river's side, a pile of wood was burn- 
 ing ; two men were waving a big piece of cloth to fan 
 the flame, and gradually as it burned, you caught 
 sight through it of a strange bundle lying in the midst 
 of the wood and slowly catching fire. Then you knew 
 that it was the funeral pile of some dead Hindoo, who 
 had died happy in knowing that he would be burned 
 beside the sacred river and that his ashes would be 
 mingled with its waters. 
 
 Then came another curious and pathetic sight. 
 Close by the side of this burning pile was another all 
 prepared, but not yet lighted. Soon I saw a man 
 leading a little naked boy some four years old into the 
 
250 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 water. He washed the little chap all over, then stood 
 him up beside the pile of wood ; a priest up above on 
 a high altar said some prayers over him, and the man 
 gave the little boy a blazing bunch of straw and showed 
 him how to stick it into the midst of the wood until 
 the whole caught fire. It was a widower showing his 
 small son how to set his mother on fire. The little 
 fellow seemed scared and cried, and when they let him 
 go ran up to some other children, — probably cous- 
 ins, — who put his clothes on for him, and then he 
 squatted on his heels and quietly watched the flames. 
 
 While this was going on they had brought down the 
 body of a child, perhaps seven or eight years old, and 
 for it they built another pile of wood close to the water. 
 Then they took the body into the stream and bathed 
 it for a moment, then brought it out and laid it on the 
 wood. The father of the child went into the water, 
 and washed himseK all over. After he came out the 
 priest at the altar chanted a prayer for him. Then he 
 went up to an old woman who sold straw, and bought 
 a bundle, haggling some time over the price. This he 
 lighted at the burning pile of the little boy'.s mother, 
 and with it set his own child's pile in flames. They 
 had covered the little body with a bright red cloth, 
 and it was the prettiest funeral pile of all. By this 
 time another body, a wasted and worn old man, had 
 come, and they were already bathing him in the Gan- 
 ges, while some men were gathering up the ashes of 
 somebody who was burned earlier in the day and 
 throwing them into the river, where they float to cer- 
 tain bliss. So it goes all the time, while a great crowd 
 is gathered around, some laughing, some praying, 
 some trafficking, some begging. While we looked on, 
 an interesting-looking fakir came up with a live snake 
 
BENARES. 251 
 
 pleasantly curled around his neck, and begged an 
 alms, while the boys behind kept pulling the tail of 
 his hideous necklace to make him mad- Just down 
 the slope beside the water, the mother was being 
 burned by the little boy, and the child by her father. 
 
 This is not a cheerful letter, but on less serious 
 occasions the Hindoos are a most amusing people. . . . 
 They never sit, but squat all over the place. When 
 you meet them they make believe take up some dust 
 from the ground and put it on their heads. I wish 
 you could see my servant Huri. He looks like a 
 most sober, pious female of about forty-five. He 
 wears petticoats and bloomers. W\ere he sleeps and 
 what he eats, I have not the least idea. He gets ^8 a 
 month and finds himself, and is the most devoted and 
 useful creature you ever saw, but as queer an old 
 woman as ever lived. But good-by. I shall be glad 
 enough to see you all again. . . . 
 
 The Hindoos are the most pathetic and amusing 
 people. . . . This morning, after I had written this 
 long letter, we went down again to the Ganges and 
 watched the bathers and the burners for a long time. 
 On the way we almost destroyed large numbers of 
 the infant population, who crawl about the streets and 
 run under the houses' feet and are just the color of 
 the earth of which they are made, so that it is very 
 hard to tell them from the inanimate clay. Almost 
 none of them wear any clothes until they are six 
 or seven years old ; then their clothes soon get to be 
 the same color as their skins and it does not help you 
 much. 
 
 We passed a pleasant temple of the Goddess of 
 Small-Pox, and looked in a moment just out of associ- 
 ation. Her name is Sitla, and her temple is a horrid- 
 
252 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 looking place. On the way through the city there are 
 all sorts of amusing sights. Here is a fellow squatted 
 down in the dirt, blowing away on a squeaking flute, 
 and as he blows there are a lot of snakes, cobras, and 
 all sorts of dreadful-looking things swinging back and 
 forth around him, and sticking their heads out of his 
 baskets. Suddenly the musician starts up and begins 
 a fantastic dance, and in a few minutes makes a dive 
 at a chap in the crowd, and by sleight of hand seems 
 to take a long snake (which he ha's concealed some- 
 where about him) out of the other fellow's turban. 
 Then the crowd howl and jeer, and we throw the dirty 
 musician a quarter of a cent. 
 
 All this it is pleasantest to see from the carriage ; 
 just as we are turning away, there is a cheerful noise 
 of a band coming down the narrow street, and there 
 appear a dozen men and boys playing on queer drums, 
 cymbals, and trumpets. After them a crowd of wo- 
 men singing a wild and rather jolly air, then on horse- 
 back a small boy of twelve all dressed up in gilt 
 paper and white cloth, and on another horse a little 
 girl about the size of Tood, who is his bride. She is 
 dressed like a most gorgeous doll, and has to be held 
 on the horse by a man who walks behind. They have 
 all been down to the Ganges to worship, and now are 
 going home to the wedding feast, after which the 
 bride will be taken to the boy's mother's house to be 
 kept for him, and a hard time the little wretch will 
 have. The wedding procession comes to grief every 
 few minutes in the crowded street ; sometimes a big 
 swell on an elephant walks into the midst of the band, 
 and for a few minutes you lose sight of the minstrels 
 altogether, and only hear fragments of the music com- 
 ing out of the neighboring houses, where they have 
 
BENARES. 253 
 
 taken refuge. Sometimes there come a group of peo- 
 ple, wailing, crying, and singing a doleful hymn, as 
 they carry a dead body to the Ganges, and for a while 
 the funeral and marriage music get mixed ; but they 
 always come unsnarled, and the wedding picks itself 
 up and goes its way. Then you stop a moment to see 
 a juggler make a mango-tree grow in three minutes 
 from a seed to a tall bush. Then you drop into the 
 bazaars and see their pretty silks ; then you stop and 
 listen to a Gooroo preaching in a little nook between 
 two houses ; and so you wander on, until you see the 
 Ganges flashing in the sun and thousands of black 
 and brown backs popping in and out, as the men and 
 women take their baths. 
 
 When they come out, they sit with their legs folded 
 under them for a long time, look at nothing, and med- 
 itate ; then they go to a gentleman who sits under a 
 big umbrella with a lot of paint-boxes about him, and 
 he puts a daub on their foreheads, whose color and pat- 
 tern tell how long they have bathed and prayed, and 
 how holy they are after it all. 
 
 I have been looking at Huri, who is squatted on the 
 ground in the sun, just outside my door, as I am writ- 
 ing. He wears a gold and purple turban. The poor 
 fellow was upset in a rickety cab last week, after he 
 had left me at the station, and says his bones are bent, 
 but he has been carefully examined, and we can find 
 no harm. He always sleeps just outside my door at 
 night. Last night I heard the jackals when I went 
 to bed, and was quite surprised to find the whole of 
 Huri in my room when I woke up this morning. I 
 yv^ish I could bring him home. . . . 
 
254 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 Calcutta, February 3, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — Lots of letters to-day, the best 
 of them your Christmas letter, telling how you re- 
 ceived my Bombay telegram, how you went to church 
 and heard Bishop Clark, how you had lots of presents, 
 and went to Salem in the afternoon. It was all de- 
 lightful, and reading it as we drove along to-day in 
 Dharamtolla Street (which means "the Way of 
 Righteousness," and a funny, shabby old Hindoo Way 
 of Righteousness it is), it seemed as if I saw you all 
 at your home life. The palm-trees turned to elms, 
 and the naked Indians to Boston men and women, with 
 Boston great-coats buttoned up tc their respectable 
 Boston chins. It was all delightful ! Do thank for 
 me the whole Salem Round Robin. 
 
 Since I wrote that tremendous letter to Mary last 
 Sunday, another week of India has passed. I have 
 been down to Gaya, and seen where Buddha sat and 
 contemplated for six years, and a marvelous strange 
 place it is, with ten thousand Buddhas carved on every 
 side. Then I came on here, and have been seeing 
 interesting things and people for three days. Calcutta 
 is not half as nice as Bombay, but there are people 
 here whom I wanted very much to see. " Stately Bom- 
 bay " and " Fair Calcutta " the Anglo-Indians are 
 fond of saying, 
 
 I have just written an enormous letter to Arthur 
 about Chunder Sen, to whom I made a long visit the 
 other day. This afternoon I went to one of the 
 schools supported by the Zenana Mission (of which 
 you have sometimes heard from Trinity reading-desk), 
 gave the prizes to a lot of little Hindoos, and made an 
 address which was translated into Bengalee for my 
 audience. 
 
DARJEELING. 255 
 
 ... I dined last night with the Whitneys, three 
 Boston men who are out here in business. 
 
 Tell Gertie she has not sent me yet her Christmas 
 report. At least I have not received it. What a suc- 
 cession of splendid preaching you are having ! Oh, 
 how I wish you were here to-night. God bless you all. 
 
 Darjeeling, India, February 7, 1883. 
 
 Dear Miss Morrill, — Instead of writing you a 
 letter which could be read at our Ash Wednesday 
 meeting, I am writing to you on Ash Wednesday a 
 letter which will hardly reach you before Easter. I 
 explained to you before that I have been unable to see 
 anything of the work of the Zenana Missionary in 
 time to let you hear from me before the meeting. It 
 is only now, after my visits to the places where our 
 missionaries are at work, that I feel as if I had really 
 something to say about their labors. From the time 
 I entered India I heard much of the Zenana work. In 
 Delhi, where I spent some time, English ladies are at 
 work in this visitation and teaching of native women, 
 and all persons who are interested in the religious and 
 social condition of the people of India, whether clergy- 
 men or laymen, value their influence very highly. Of 
 course, from the nature of the case it is not a work 
 which can make much display of visible results, nor 
 can a visitor like myself get any sight even of its pro- 
 cesses. But he can talk with those who are engaged in 
 it, hear their descriptions, and learn from those who 
 see it constantly what are its effects. Also, besides the 
 visitation of Zenanas, the same ladies are engaged in 
 teaching school, which one can freely see, and of 
 which he can form some judgment for himself. 
 
 The ladies of the American Union Mission whom I 
 
256 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 have met are Miss Gardner, at Cawnpore, and Miss 
 Marston, Miss Cook, and Mrs. Page, in Calcutta. I 
 was sorry that Miss Ward was absent from Cawnpore, 
 and Miss Lathrop from Allahabad at the times of 
 my visit. They had both gone to Calcutta with ref- 
 erence to medical treatment for Miss Lathrop, and 
 before I reached Calcutta they had returned to their 
 respective posts. At Cawnpore the Mission House is 
 a bright, pleasant bungalow, where the two American 
 ladies live, together with a number of native teachers 
 whom they have trained, and who go out every day 
 to teach schools, which they have gathered either in 
 the city or in some of the neighboring villages. There 
 are fourteen such schools, I think, in or about Cawn- 
 pore. One of them is taught in the Mission House 
 itself, and that I saw. The children were bright and 
 intelligent, and (translated) answers showed that they 
 knew what they were about. 
 
 I saw also what interested me very much, the school 
 which is supported by the children of your class and 
 Miss Lowell's and Miss Torrey's. I wish they could 
 see it. It is described as the most difficult of all the 
 schools, situated in a region of most benighted Mo- 
 hammedanism, where the parents can hardly be in- 
 duced to let the children come. Indeed, there were 
 some fears lest the visit of a " Padre Sahib," or Mr. 
 Minister, like me, might make trouble, and possibly 
 break up the school. I hope that no disastrous results 
 will follow from my well-meant and innocent appear- 
 ance at the school-door. In the very heart of the 
 crowded bazaars you turn from one dirty lane into 
 another dirtier and narrower still, and then into the 
 dirtiest and narrowest of all, which ends short at a 
 native house of very poor sort, but making some small 
 
DARJEELING, 257 
 
 attempts at tidiness. The door admits at once to tlie 
 only room, with an earth floor and a few benches, 
 where you find a native woman who answers to the 
 name of Dorcas, and around her about a dozen little, 
 rough, sturdy, native girls, into whose dull heads she 
 is trying to put the elements of Hindostanee learning. 
 It is all homely enough, even wretchedly shabby and 
 dreary, as the girls who support the school would 
 think if they could see it, but if they saw the homes 
 in which their strange little protegees live, and their 
 parents, and knew the lives which are before them if 
 they go untaught, and could see the condition of other 
 schools (which began just as this is beginning), full 
 of brightness, and happiness, and neatness, and in- 
 telligence, and religion, they would bid Dorcas go on 
 with her work, and feel it a privilege to watch over the 
 little school and nurse it to full life. 
 
 I was rather glad, on the whole, to find that our 
 children had the hardest and most discouraging field 
 in Cawnpore to work upon. No one can talk with 
 Miss Gardner and not be very much impressed with 
 her good judgment and happy devotion to her work. 
 
 In Calcutta I have been several times at the Mis- 
 sion House and seen Miss Marston, Miss Cook, and 
 their young native assistants, who live with them and 
 make a most happy family. There, I could see no- 
 thing of the Zenana work, but they told me much about 
 it, and from others, as well as from them, I heard 
 such testimony as gives me the strongest assurance of 
 its value. The only wonder is that the Baboos, or 
 native gentlemen, so freely admit these ladies to their 
 houses. In Bengal especially there is a strong desire 
 for education, which even the secluded women feel, 
 and either by their persuasion or by the husbands' 
 
258 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 own desire, the requisite permission is granted. Of 
 course it is in every case clearly understood that the 
 visitors mean to give Christian teaching. I have 
 made special inquiry upon the point, and am assured 
 that no such scandalous deception of the Baboo, as was 
 described to us by the lady who addressed the Society 
 last year in the chapel of Emmanuel Church, has 
 ever been practiced or tolerated by our missionaries. 
 
 A good deal of talk with Miss Marston has im- 
 pressed me with the good sense and intelligence of 
 her methods, and I am more confident than ever that 
 our church does better work nowhere than in the con- 
 tribution which it makes to the Zenana Mission. 
 
 The schools which are imder the care of these Cal- 
 cutta ladies are very interesting. I have visited sev- 
 eral of them, and heard their recitations both in Eng- 
 lish and Bengalee. The former was so good that I 
 could have no doubt about the latter. And the chil- 
 dren's faces told the story, which to any one who has 
 watched for a month or two the ordinary look of Hin- 
 doo children's countenances was unmistakable. 
 
 Last Saturday afternoon I went to a prize festival 
 of two of these schook, which I wish that the friends 
 of the Mission could have seen. A generous Baboo 
 had kindly offered the use of the courtyard of his 
 house, which was prettily decorated for the occasion. 
 He and a number of his friends came and looked on 
 with the greatest interest. Even some of the ladies 
 of his household were watching what went on from 
 an upper gallery. Some hundred and fifty children 
 were there, with that strange, pensive, half-sad look 
 in their eyes which makes the faces of Hindoo chiL 
 dren so pathetic. Some of them, however, had fun 
 enough in them. Many of them were gorgeous in 
 
DARJEELING. 259 
 
 bright colors and trinkets. Most of them had fine 
 rings in their ears, they all had rings in their noses, 
 and the finest of them also had rings on their toes. 
 Their little brown ankles tinkled with their anklets as 
 they trotted up barefoot to get their dolls, and they 
 answered Bible questions as I wish the children of 
 Trinity school would answer them. They sang strange^ 
 sweet Bengalee words to tmies which all our children 
 know, and after I had given them their prizes I made 
 a little speech, which was translated to them, and I 
 hope they understood, for I wanted them to know how 
 much their American friends cared for these little 
 friends of theirs. 
 
 I wish that I had time to tell you about Mrs. Page's 
 Orphan Asylum. Most of these orphans are found- 
 lings, and one could not look at them without think- 
 ing what their lives mur:t have been, save for this 
 home ; if indeed without it, they could have had any 
 life at all ; many of them must have died in infancy. 
 Now those who have been with Mrs. Page for years 
 are as cheerful and cheery a lot of little Christian 
 maidens as any school in America can show. Some 
 of the teachers in the schools of which I have been 
 speaking were brought up in this home. There are 
 some seventy or eighty inmates now. 
 
 But I must not go on forever. You will see that my 
 whole visit to this Zenana work and my acquaintance 
 with the workers have deepened the faith in it which 
 I have always rather blindly felt. I know it now, and 
 I know that it is good. Those who have given their 
 contributions year after year may rest assured that 
 they have really helped the minds and souls of Hindoo 
 women, shut up in the dreary monotony and frivol- 
 ity of their Zenanas, and made possible for Hindoo 
 
260 A YEAR m EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 children happy and useful lives, of which they had no 
 chance except for such help. I congratulate you 
 and the other ladies, who have had the privilege of 
 helping on this work and keeping alive other people's 
 interest in it. If anything that I can ever do or say 
 can give it encouragement or strength, I shall be 
 very glad. 
 
 Foreign missions lose something of their romance, 
 but they gain vastly in reality and interest when one 
 sees them here at work. I should be very glad to 
 think that in all this long letter I had succeeded m 
 giving you any idea of how it all looks when one sees 
 it with his own eyes. Believe me ever 
 
 Most sincerely yours, Phillips Brooks. 
 
 Calcutta, February 11, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — This week I have seen the Hima- 
 layas. Last Monday we left Calcutta at three o'clock 
 by rail ; at seven we crossed the Ganges on a steam- 
 boat, just as if it had been the Susquehanna. All 
 night we slept in the train, and the next day were 
 climbing up and up on a sort of steam tramway, 
 which runs to Darjeeling, a summer station at the foot 
 of the highest hills, but itseK a thousand feet higher 
 than the top of Mt. Washington. There the swells go 
 in the hot months, but now it is almost deserted. We 
 reached there on Tuesday evening in the midst of rain, 
 found that the great mountains had not been seen for 
 eight days, and everybody laughed at our hope of seeing 
 them. We slept, and early the next morning looked 
 out on nothing but clouds. But about eight o'clock 
 the curtain began to fall, and before nine there was a 
 most splendid view of the whole range. In the midst 
 was the lordly Kinchin jinga, the second highest moun- 
 
CALCUTTA, 261 
 
 tain in the world, over 28,000 feet high. Think of 
 that ! Certainly, they made the impression of height, 
 such as no mountains ever gave me before. 
 
 By and by we rode about six miles to another hill 
 called Senchul, where the tip of Mt. Everest, the high- 
 est mountain in the world, 29,002 feet, is visible. That 
 was interesting, but the real glory of the day was 
 Kinchin jinga. We gazed at him till the jealous clouds 
 came again in the afternoon and covered him ; then 
 we roamed over the little town and went to a Bud- 
 dhist village a couple of miles away. The people 
 here are Thibetans by origin, and they keep associa- 
 tions with the tribes upon the other side of the great 
 hills. A company of Thibetans, priests and Lamas, 
 had come over to celebrate the New Year, which with 
 them begins on the 9th of February. They had the 
 strangest music and dances, and queer outdoor plays, 
 and we were welcomed as distinguished strangers, and 
 set in the place of honor, feasted with oranges, and 
 begged for backsheesh. 
 
 The next morning there were the giant hills again, 
 and we looked at Kinchinjinga (I want you to learn 
 his name) till eleven o'clock, when we took the train 
 again for Calcutta, and arrived there on Friday after- 
 noon about five. It was a splendid journey, and one 
 to be always remembered. On my return to Calcutta 
 I found two invitations waiting: one was to dine at 
 the Government House with the Viceroy on Thursday 
 evening. Of course, I was too late for that, and was 
 very sorry, for now I shall not see the great man and 
 the viceregal court at all. The other was to an even- 
 ing party on Friday, given by the Rajah Rajendra 
 Narayan del Bahadur, " in honor of the late British 
 victory in Egypt." Of course I went to this, and it 
 
262 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 was the biggest thing seen in India for years. It is 
 said to have cost the old Rajah a lac of rupees, or 
 $100,000. At any rate, it was very splendid and 
 very queer, — acres of palace and palace grounds 
 blazing with lights, a thousand guests, the natives in 
 the most beautiful costumes of silk and gold ; a Nautch 
 dance going on all the time in one hall, a full circus, 
 — horses, acrobats, clowns, and all, only after native 
 fashion, — in a great covered courtyard, supper per- 
 petual, and the great drawing-room blazing with fam- 
 ily jewels. I stayed till one o'clock, and then came 
 home as if from the Arabian Nights, and went to 
 bed. 
 
 But I cannot tell you all I am doing or have done. 
 This morning, for r change, I preached from Henry 
 Martyn's old pulpit in the Mission Church. To-mor- 
 row morning, we sail on the P. & O. steamer Rohilla 
 for Madras, a three days' voyage. Thence we travel 
 by Tan j ore, Trichinopoly, and Madura to Tuticorin. 
 Then across by sea to Colombo, and after a week in 
 Ceylon sail in the Verona (P. & O.) on the 7th of 
 March (the day Daniel Webster made his speech) 
 for Suez. From Suez by rail to Alexandria, seeing 
 Cairo on the way, and the recent battlefield of Tel El 
 Kebir. When you get this, about the 24th of March, 
 I shall probably be in Alexandria, perhaps spend 
 Easter there. Thence I somehow go to Spain, getting 
 there about April 1. 
 
 Your New Year's letter reached me yesterday. A 
 thousand thanks for it. Next year we will have such 
 a watch-meeting as was never known. Now the year 
 is more than half over. How fast it has gone, and 
 henceforth we draw nearer and nearer to each other. 
 When I get to England, it will almost seem at home. 
 
MADRAS. 263 
 
 Tell M., and A., and G., and S. that I love them 
 all. G.'s Christmas report not yet received. 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 Madras, February 18, 1883. 
 
 My dear William, — We had a beautiful sail 
 down from Calcutta. For four days the Rohilla slid 
 along over the most beautiful glassy sea, the sky was 
 lovely at sunrise and sunset, the nights were the most 
 gorgeous moonlight, and the sun at noon was hotter 
 than Sancho. There were a good many pleasant peo- 
 ple on board, two bishops, an archdeacon, and the 
 usual queer lot of sailors who run the steamships in 
 these Eastern seas. We arrived at Madras very early 
 on Friday morning, and I have been charmed with 
 the place ever since. It was glorious last night. I 
 drove five miles into the country to dine at Mr. 
 Sewall's. He is the archaeological director of the dis- 
 trict, and knows all about the Vishnu temples and 
 the Buddliist Topes, of which the whole region is full. 
 The road ran through long avenues of banyan-trees, 
 which looked like ghosts with their long arms ; little 
 temples peeped through the trees, and picturesque 
 groups Gi people were flitting about on foot, or in 
 queer bullock carts, and it was all as unlike the Mill- 
 dam as possible. We had a charming dinner with 
 people who knew all about India, and drove home at 
 eleven o'clock through the February summer night. 
 
 I sent from Calcutta a box which will reach you in 
 due time ; not for a long time, perhaps, for I left it 
 there to be sent the first time there was a sailing ves- 
 sel going direct to Boston. There is nothing particu- 
 lar in it. Only a few travel books, which I wanted to 
 get out of the way, and a number of small traps, which 
 
264 A YEAR IN EITROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 have accumulated in my trunk. There is nothing 
 really fine or artistic to buy in India. Art seems to 
 have stopped here some two hundred years ago, so I 
 have made no purchases, and these things in the box 
 are mere trinkets and a few pieces of cloth and some 
 photographs. . . . 
 
 There is something which I wish you would do some 
 time, when it is not much bother. When I left I took 
 some sermons with me in a great hurry. I did not 
 make a very good selection, and do not like what I 
 have brought ; when I get to England I may preach 
 some more. Would it be much trouble for you to go 
 some afternoon into my study, and look in the back 
 of my writing-table and find six or eight sermons, 
 among the later ones, which you think would do, and 
 send them to me at Barings', only marking them not 
 to be forwarded, but kept for me there ? You will 
 know about the ones to send. There is one about 
 Gamaliel, which I remember. Do not hurry about 
 this, but if you think of it some afternoon, do it like 
 a good fellow, won't you, and I wiU do as much for 
 you when you come to India. 
 
 Strawberries are first-rate here, cocoanuts and plan- 
 tains and oranges and guavas everywhere. It will 
 be hard to leave these gentle Hindoos and their de- 
 lightful land when the time comes, three weeks hence. 
 The only compensation will be that I shall be coming 
 nearer to you all. Affectionately, P. 
 
 Tanjobe, India, February 23, 1883. 
 
 Dear aunt Susan, — I hope you are all well, and 
 I wish that I could drive up the side yard, this 
 morning, and find you all there, going on in the good 
 old-fashioned way. Instead of that, I am sitting here 
 
TAN J ORE. 265 
 
 in the midst of heathenism, in the big room of an 
 Indian bungalow, with a punkah swinging overhead to 
 keep me cool, propelled by a rope which a naked 
 heathen boy is pulling on the veranda outside, and 
 with the sun blazing down on the palm-trees and bam- 
 boos as it never blazes, even in August, in the back 
 garden. This morning, while it was still cool, I went 
 to the great temple, and saw the worship of the great 
 god Siva. The worshipers were a strange-looking 
 set, some of them very gentle and handsome, others 
 wild and fierce ; but all groveling before the most 
 hideous idol, and hiding their faces in the dust, while 
 the big priest clothed the image with flowers, washed 
 him, set his food and drink before him, and anointed 
 him with dreadful-smelling oil. 
 
 It is strange to be right in the midst of pure, blank 
 heathenism, after one has been hearing and talking 
 about it all his life. And it is certainly as bad as it 
 has been painted. I have seen a good deal of the 
 missionaries here, and a good many of them are doing 
 very noble work, but the hosts on hosts of heathen 
 must be a pretty discouraging sight to them some- 
 times. However, I saw a dozen or more funeral piles 
 burning the other day at Benares, and so there are 
 that number less of unconverted heathen in the land. 
 
 We have had a splendid two months here, and now 
 only two weeks remain before we shall sail from " Cey- 
 lon's Isle " for Europe, where it will seem as if I were 
 almost in the midst of you again. But all the rest of 
 my life I shall have pictures before my mind of these 
 queer people riding on elephants (that they prod with 
 a sharp iron stick behind the ear to make them go), 
 squatting on their heels in the sunniest sunshine they 
 can find, and religiously bathing in big tanks and tug- 
 
266 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 ging at the heavy cars on which they love to drag 
 their horrible gods about the country ; smiling, cheat- 
 ing, lying dreadfidly, and making their country as 
 picturesque as anything can be in all the world. It 
 wiU be good to get back again, for after all one wants 
 to be at work. William, Arthur, and John have writ- 
 ten me from time to time, — William constantly, — 
 and from them I have heard all the news. The best 
 is that everything is going on without change, and that 
 I shall find you all next September just as I left you 
 last June. You will not doubt that I think of you a 
 great deal. Give my best love to aunt S, and aunt 
 C, and write to me when you can. 
 Ever most affectionately, 
 
 Phillips Brooks. 
 
 Trichinopoly, February 25, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — I am staying at the house of 
 Mr. SewaU, the chief collector of this district, who has 
 taken us in and given us his hospitality for a couple 
 of days. We have reached southern India, and the 
 hot weather is on us, so that except in early morn- 
 ing and late afternoon there is no possibility of moving 
 about and seeing things. What people will do here 
 two or three months hence I can hardly imagine. 
 The sun's heat is tremendous, and even with perpetual 
 punkahs swinging in every room where anything is 
 being done, eating, or writing, or reading, or talking, 
 or sleeping, life is hardly tolerable. Nevertheless, we 
 have had a good sort of week. Last Sunday evening 
 we went on board a canal-boat at Madras, a funny 
 little tub of a thing, and were towed all night by 
 coolies, running along the bank for about thirty miles, 
 to a place called Mahabalihuram, where there are 
 
TRICHINOPOLY. 267 
 
 some wonderful pagodas or Hindoo temples, and some 
 remarkable old sculptures on the rocks of enormous 
 size. 
 
 It was a gorgeous moonlight night, and the sensa- 
 tion of being pulled along through this wild country 
 by these naked figures, striding and tugging on the 
 banks, was very curious. The next day we spent at 
 the pagodas, which were built nobody knows when or 
 by whom, and which have the whole Hindoo my- 
 thology marvelously carved in their rocky walls. Mon- 
 day night we took the same way back, and it was hard 
 to turn in and leave the strange picture which I saw, as 
 I sat in the stern of the little craft. 
 
 We took our own servants, beds, and provisions 
 with us, and stopped each evening and spread our 
 table for dinner in the desert, by the side of the canal. 
 After our return, we spent one more day in Madras, 
 and then started southward toward Ceylon. We 
 stopped first at Chedambaram, where there is a stupen- 
 doTis temple, with heathenism in full blast, processions 
 of Vishnu, Siva, and the other gods going about with 
 drums, trumpets, and cymbals all the time. Then to 
 Tanjore, where there is the most beautiful of the big 
 pagodas, and where we spent a delightful day. Thence 
 to this place, where yesterday we saw the richest 
 temple of all, in which the jewels and gold clothing 
 of two horrid little brass idols are worth ten lacs 
 of rupees, 11,000,000. The collector had sent word 
 that we were coming, and they had the jewels all 
 spread out for us to see, while crowds of gaping 
 natives stood outside the rope and watched the pre- 
 cious things as we examined them. A dozen officials 
 had to show them, for the gTcat chest has so many 
 locks, and each official keeps a separate key. It can- 
 
268 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 not be unlocked without the presence of them all, a 
 sort of combination-safety arrangement which I com- 
 mend to the Boston bank directors. 
 
 I am sincerely blue at the prospect of leaving India 
 in ten days more. I try to fix every picture in my 
 memory, so that I may not lose it. But I hate to 
 think that I shall never see it again. The people 
 cheat, lie, worship false gods, and do all sorts of hor- 
 ridly wicked things, but they are evidently capable of 
 a better life. Their land is full of monuments which 
 show what they once were, and there is a courtesy, 
 mild dignity, and perpetual picturesqueness about 
 them which is fascinating. 
 
 This morning I went to an early service and saw 
 the grave of Bishop Heber in the chancel. I was go- 
 ing to preach for the minister this evening, but he 
 could not find a surplice of decent length, and it had 
 to be given up. 
 
 On Friday I shall be at Colombo, and then shall 
 get some letters from you all and learn what you are 
 doing. I can imagine, but very often I wish that I 
 could ]ook through the thick world and see. At this mo- 
 ment you are sound asleep, preparing for the Sunday 
 and the excitement of hearing some great man at 
 Trinity. I hope it is n't very cold. Oh, that I could 
 give you some of this heat ! My love to everybody. 
 Always affectionately, P. 
 
 Kandy, March 4, 1883. 
 
 My dear Mary, — Do you know I think this 
 place is good enough and important enough from 
 which to write you a letter. In the first place, it is 
 the farthest point of my travels ; from this time my 
 face is turned homeward. In the second place, I 
 
KANDY. 269 
 
 think it must be the most beautiful place in the 
 world. I do not see how there could be one more 
 beautiful. I wish you could have driven with me this 
 morning at sunrise, through the roads with hundreds 
 of different kinds of palm-trees, and to the Buddhist 
 temple, where they were offering fresh flowers to Bud- 
 dha and banging away on drums in his honor enough 
 to kill you ; then out to the gardens where cinnamon, 
 nutmeg, clove-trees, tea and coffee plants, pineapples, 
 mangoes, bamboos, banyans, India-rubber trees, and 
 a hundred other curious things are growing. Here 
 and there you meet an elephant or a peacock, and 
 the pleasant-faced natives smile at you out of their 
 pretty houses. 
 
 Oh, this beautiful island of Ceylon ! 
 With the cocoanut-trees on the shore ; 
 It is shaped like a pear with the peel on, 
 And Kandy lies in at the core. 
 
 And Kandy is sweet (you ask Gertie !) 
 Even when it is spelt with a K, 
 And the people are cheerful and dirty, 
 And dress in a comical way. 
 
 Here comes a particular dandy, 
 With two ear-rings and half of a shirt, 
 He 's considered the swell of all Kandy, 
 And the rest of him 's covered with dirt. 
 
 And here comes the belle of the city, 
 With rings on her delicate toes, 
 And eyes that are painted and pretty, 
 And a jewel that shakes in her nose. , 
 
 And the dear little girls and their brothers, 
 And the babies so jolly and fat, 
 Astride on the hips of their mothers, 
 And as black as a gentleman's ha,t. 
 
270 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA, 
 
 And the queer little heaps of old women, 
 And the shaven Buddhistical priests, 
 And the lake whicli the worshipers swim in, 
 And the wagons with curious beasts. 
 
 The tongue they talk mostly is Tamul, 
 Which sounds you can hardly tell how, 
 It is half like the scream of a camel, 
 And half like the grunt of a sow. 
 
 But it is too hot to make any more poetry. It is per- 
 fectly ridiculous how hot it is. I would not walk to that 
 Buddhist temple opposite for anything. If I tried 
 to, you would never see my familiar face in Claren- 
 don Street any more. I am glad, with all the beauty of 
 Ceylon, that there are only two days more of it. It is 
 too near the equator. On Wednesday morning the 
 Verona sails from Colombo, and will carry me to Suez, 
 and the Indian trip is over. It has been one unmixed 
 pleasure from beginning to end. 
 
 We have a new boy. Huri's language gave out at 
 Calcutta. He did not know the queer tongues they 
 talk in southern India, and he had to be sent back to 
 Bombay. We parted with tears and rupees. Then 
 came another boy, who had to be summarily dismissed. 
 He was too stupid for anything. It made the journey 
 far too laborious when we had to take care of him. 
 Now we have a beautiful creature named Tellegoo, 
 or something like that. He wears a bright yellow 
 and green petticoat, which makes him look very gay, 
 and a tortoise-shell comb in his hair. , . . Our asso- 
 ciation with him will be brief, for we leave him on the 
 wharf when we sail, Wednesday, and there will be 
 fewer rupees and no tears. 
 
 I went to church this morning, and the minister 
 preached on the text, " Bake me a little cake first," 
 
STEAMER VERONA. 271 
 
 and the point was, that before you bought any clothes 
 or food, you must give something towards the endow- 
 ment of the English church at Kandy. It was really 
 a pretty sermon. . . . 
 
 There are the Buddhists howling again. It must 
 be afternoon service. The priests go about without a 
 bit of hair on their heads, and wrapped in dirty yellow 
 sheets. . . . 
 
 P. &0. Steamer Verona, March 11, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — I wrote last Sunday to M. 
 from beautiful Kandy. That letter, I suppose, is 
 somewhere on board this ship at this moment; but 
 not to break my good habit of a weekly letter, I will 
 send you this, to show how I felt when we were half- 
 way from Colombo to Aden, and next Sunday I will 
 send still another from wherever we are in the Red 
 Sea. You will get them altogether, but you can read 
 them in their order, and so get three consecutive 
 weeks of my important biography at one time. 
 
 It seems so strange to be on the sea again and think- 
 ing about the Indian journey as a finished thing. The 
 days from Venice to Bombay keep coming back, when 
 I was full of wonder about it all. Now, I know at 
 least a great deal about what I shall always think one 
 of the most delightful and interesting lands in all the 
 world. In some respects, the last bit of it was almost 
 the best. The tropics had seemed to elude us before. 
 Many a time in India it seemed as if the landscape 
 were almost what one might have seen at home, but 
 the minute that we touched Ceylon, everything was 
 different. One cannot conceive of the gorgeousness of 
 nature. Only the night before we left, we drove a 
 few miles along the seashore, with such groves of enor- 
 
272 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 mous palms and cocoanuts on one side, and such color 
 of sunset on the water on the other side, as no dream 
 or picture ever began to suggest. And the whole four 
 hours' ride from Colombo to Kandy is marvelous. 
 The mountains are superb, and in the valleys there 
 are depths of jungle which show what the earth is at 
 only eight degrees from the equator. And then in 
 Ceylon for the first time we saw Buddhism, that great 
 religion which sprang up in India, and has completely 
 disappeared in the land of its birth, but has spread 
 elsewhere, till more than a quarter of the human race 
 are Buddhists. We just caught sight of it when we 
 were close to the Himalayas on the borders of Thibet, 
 but in Ceylon we saw the strange system in its full- 
 ness. 
 
 Last Monday afternoon I drove out to the Buddhist 
 college and saw the old high-priest teaching a class of 
 students, who sat around him with their shaven heads 
 and their yellow robes, getting ready to continue this 
 atheistical religion for another generation. The old 
 fellow looked up and asked us who we were. I gave 
 him my card, which he spelled out with difficulty, then 
 he asked me, " Do you know anything about me ? " 
 and seemed disappointed and disgusted when I was 
 obliged to tell him that, much as we were interested 
 in his religion, and glad as we were to see his college, 
 we had never heard of him before in all our lives. He 
 evidently did not understand how local his great rep- 
 utation was. He dismissed his class and untwisted 
 his legs, and got down and toddled away. 
 
 We have been four days on the Verona. The peo- 
 ple are pleasant, the captain is cordial and agreeable, 
 and the weather is cool, so the voyage is charming;. 
 The Archdeacon of Calcutta is on b )ai'd, and pre:u']i: -1 
 
STEAMER VERONA. 273 
 
 this morning. He is a very jolly sort of person. I 
 am to preach next Sunday. There are some pri- 
 vate theatricals in prospect, so the future looks lively. 
 Next Sunday you shall hear how the week has gone. 
 
 Long before you get this, the great house ques- 
 tion will be settled, and you will have decided where 
 your declining years are to be passed, whether in the 
 
 house in G Street, which I know already, or in 
 
 some new nest in M or B streets. Which- 
 ever it is, I have the deepest interest in it, and shall 
 be very anxious to hear. Very many of my few re- 
 maining hours will be spent by the new fireside, and 
 years hence, I shall come tottering up to the door to 
 recall the old days when we were young and I went 
 away to spend a winter in India. I cannot help wish- 
 ing that the change, if there is to be one, might bring 
 
 you nearer to the corner of C and N streets, 
 
 instead of taking you farther away, as I fear it 
 will. . . . 
 
 Spain is the next thing, and I am counting much 
 upon it. I have some expectation of meeting the 
 Brimmers there, but it is not at all certain. At pres- 
 ent I am alone. Wendell left me at Suez to go to 
 Cairo, and then to Palestine. He has been a very 
 agreeable companion, intelligent, good-natured, always 
 bright and obliging. I feel very much attached to 
 him. 
 
 I had a letter at Suez from Canon Farrar, asking 
 me to preach for him in the Abbey and also at St. 
 Margaret's. I wrote him that I would do so, and 
 England begins to seem as if it were not very far 
 away. All of May and June I hope to be there. The 
 Captain sends his love. Good-by. 
 
274 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 Steamship Verona, 
 Sunday, March 18, 1883. 
 
 My dear Gertie, — It seems to me that our cor- 
 respondence has not been very lively lately. I don't 
 think I had a letter from you all the time I was in 
 India. I hoped I should, because I wanted to show 
 it to the Rajahs, and other great people, and let them 
 see what beautiful letters American children can write. 
 But now I am out of India, and for the last ten days 
 we have been sailing on and on, over the same course 
 where we sailed last December. Last Tuesday we 
 passed Aden, and stopped there about six hours. I 
 went on shore, and took a lilve through the town and 
 up into the country. If you hu,d been with me you 
 would have seen the solemn-looking camels, stalking 
 along with solemn-looking Arabs on their backs, look- 
 ing as if they had been riding on and on that way 
 ever since the days of Abraham. I think I met Isaac 
 and Jacob on two skinny camels, just outside the gates 
 of Aden. I asked them how Esau was, but Jacob 
 looked mad and would n't answer, and hurried the old 
 man on, so that I had no talk with them ; but I feel 
 quite sure it was they, for they looked just like the 
 pictures in the Bible. 
 
 Since that we have been sailing up the Red Sea, 
 and on Monday evening we shall be once more at 
 Suez, and there I say good-by to my companion, who 
 stops in Egypt, and goes thence to Palestine, while I 
 hurry on to Malta and Gibraltar in the same steamer. 
 She is a nice little steamer, with a whole lot of chil- 
 dren on board, who fight all the while and cry the rest 
 of the time. Every now and then one of them almost 
 goes overboard, and then all the mothers set up a great 
 howl, though I don't see why they should care very 
 
STEAMER VERONA. 275 
 
 much about such children as these are. I should 
 think it would be rather a relief to get rid of them. 
 Now, if it were you, or Agnes, or Tood, it would be 
 different ! 
 
 There has just been service on deck, and I preached, 
 and the people all held on to something and listened. 
 I would a great deal rather preach in Trinity. 
 
 I hope you will have a pleasant Easter. Mine wil) 
 be spent, I trust, in Malta. Next year I hope you will 
 come and dine with me on Easter Day. Don't forget ! 
 My love to Tood. Your affectionate uncle, 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 On the p. & O. Steamship Verona, 
 March 19, 1883. 
 
 Little Mistress Josephine, 
 
 Tell me, have you ever seen 
 
 Children half as queer as these 
 
 Babies from across the seas ? 
 
 See their funny little fists, 
 
 See the rings upon their wrists ; 
 
 One has very little clothes, 
 
 One has jewels in her nose j 
 
 And they all have silver bangles 
 
 On their little heathen ankles. 
 
 In their ears are curious things. 
 
 Round their necks are beads and strings, 
 
 And they jingle as thej^ walk. 
 
 And they talk outlandish talk ; 
 
 One, you see, has hugged another, 
 
 Playing she 's its little mother ; 
 
 One who sits all lone and lorn. 
 
 Has her head all shaved and shorn. 
 
 Do you want to know their names ? 
 
276 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA, 
 
 One is called Jeefungee Hames, 
 One Buddhanda Arrich Bas, 
 One Teedundee Hanki Sas. 
 
 Many such as these I saw, 
 In the streets of old Jeypore ; 
 They never seemed to cry or laugh, 
 But, sober as the photograph, 
 Squatted in the great bazaars. 
 While the Hindoos, their mammas, 
 Quarreled long about the price 
 Of their little mess of rice, 
 And then, when the fight was done, 
 Every mother, one by one. 
 Up her patient child would whip, 
 Set it straddling on her hip. 
 And trot off all crook'd and bent 
 To some hole, where, well content. 
 Hers and baby's days are spent. 
 
 Are n't you glad, then, little Queen, 
 
 That your name is Josephine ? 
 
 That you live in Springfield, or 
 
 Not, at least, in old Jeypore ? 
 
 That your Christian parents are 
 
 John and Hattie, Pa and Ma ? 
 
 That you 've an entire nose, 
 
 And no rings upon your toes ? 
 
 In a word, that Hat and you 
 
 Do not have to be Hindoo ? 
 
 But I thought you 'd like to see 
 
 What these little heathen be. 
 
 And give welcome to these three 
 
 From your loving Uncle P. 
 
STEAMER VERONA. 277 
 
 Steamship Verona, March 25, 1883. 
 
 Dear Johnny, — I must send you an Easter 
 greeting from this queer cabin, where, and on the 
 deck aLove it, we have spent our Easter Day. I hoped 
 that we should be at Malta for the great festival, but 
 we were detained a long while in the Suez Canal, and 
 shall not be at Malta till next Wednesday. On Sat- 
 urday, I hope to land at Gibraltar. 
 
 . . . How I wish you were here to-night. We would 
 sit late on deck, and you should tell me all about 
 Springfield ; and I would tell you all about India. 
 This long return voyage is a splendid chance to think 
 it over, and arrange in one's memory the recollections 
 of the wondrous land. Besides the countless pictures 
 which one saw every day, eleven great sights stand out 
 which you must see when you go to India. They are 
 these : — 
 
 First, the rock temples of Karli and EUora. 
 Think of buildings big as Christ Church, Springfield, 
 not built, but hewn out of the solid rock, and covered 
 inside and out with Hindoo sculptures of the richest 
 sort. 
 
 Second, the deserted city of Ambir, a city of the 
 old Moguls, with hardly a human inhabitant, and 
 palaces and temples abandoned to the jackals and 
 the monkeys. 
 
 Third, the Kuttub at Delhi, the most beautiful col- 
 umn in the world, covered with inscriptions ; the most 
 splendid monument of the Mohammedan power. 
 
 Fourth, the golden temple at Amritsir. Think of 
 a vast artificial lake, in whose centre, reached by a 
 lovely white marble bridge, is the holy place of the 
 Sikhs, the lower half of most delicate marble mosaics, 
 and the upper of sheets of beaten gold. 
 
278 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 Fifth, the Taj at Agra, a dream of beauty: the 
 tomb of an old Mogul empress, made of the finest 
 marble, and inlaid in the most dainty way. The whole 
 as large as the State House. 
 
 Sixth, the river shore of the Ganges at Benares. 
 Mile after mile of palaces and temples, and in front 
 of them the bathing-places of the living and the 
 burning-places of the dead. 
 
 Seventh, Buddh-Gaya, where Buddha sat for si-: 
 years under the bo-tree, till enlightenment came to 
 him. A valley full of Buddhist temples is there now. 
 
 Eighth, the view of Kinehinjinga, from Darjeeling, 
 the second highest mountain in the world. Think 
 of a hill five times as high as Mt. Washington, blaz- 
 ing with snow in the sunshine. 
 
 Ninth, the seven pagodas near Madras, where whole 
 stories of the Hindoo mythology are sculptured on the 
 face of perpendicular rocks; and they are queer 
 enough. 
 
 Tenth, the Sivite temple at Tanjore, one mass of 
 brilliant color and sculpture, with its great pyramid, 
 two hundred feet high. 
 
 Eleventh, the temple at Kandy, in Ceylon, where 
 they keep Buddha's tooth. You see the strange Bud- 
 dhist priests and their strange ways. 
 
 These are the greatest things in India, and there are 
 ever so many more like them, only not quite so great 
 or interesting. I am very glad I went, and I wish 
 that everybody who cares about interesting things 
 could go there, too. . . . 
 
 Steamship Verona, March 25, 1883. 
 Dear William, — This is not much of a place for 
 Easter Day. We have had the queerest sort of 
 
STEAMSHIP VERONA. 279 
 
 week. Last Monday night we reached Suez, and put 
 about half our ship's company on shore to go to Alex- 
 andria, Brindisi, and Venice. Since then we have 
 been dragging along through the Suez Canal. There 
 were twenty-six steamships in single file ; we were the 
 eleventh. Every now and then, No. 1 or No. 6 would 
 get aground, and then we all had to wait till it got 
 loose, five or six hours, as the case might be. Every 
 night, the whole twenty-six of us pulled up and tied 
 fast to the bank, and waited for morning. So we 
 crept along till yesterday (Saturday, Easter even), 
 when we reached Port Said, where we stayed four 
 hours, and then launched out into the broad Mediter- 
 ranean. Now all is clear. The broad sea is rolling 
 merrily around us, we have a lot of sail set, and are 
 scudding on towards Malta. We shall get there on 
 Wednesday ; I hope to be put on shore at Gibraltar 
 some time on Saturday, the 31st, and begin my Span- 
 ish experiences on April Fool's Day. 
 
 Meanwhile, here is Easter Day at sea. A mission- 
 ary from New York, on his way home from China with 
 a sick wife, has just read the morning service. He did 
 not attempt any sermon, and the singing was uncom- 
 monly feeble. Only the religious passengers came 
 down for service. Now there will be nothing more to 
 show that it is Easter Day, — no children's service 
 this afternoon, no flowers, no eggs, nothing but the 
 monotonous plunging of the ship as she goes on 
 towards Malta. 
 
 After all, it is rather good fun, this long voyage. 
 I have had time to read big books on India, and 
 the people are some of them pleasant, some of them 
 amusing. They are mostly returning Anglo-Indi- 
 ans, with something the matter either with their 
 
280 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 lungs or with their livers. They are peevish and pos- 
 itive, not liking to be contradicted, and very set in 
 their opinions. ... It is all very nice. Then there 
 are a few really bright, companionable people, and I 
 have a beautiful pipe. 
 
 An Easter greeting to you all. . . . Thanks for a 
 lot of good papers and letters, which I received at 
 Suez. They were a great resource in the canal. 
 
 Ever affectionately, P. 
 
 Gibraltar, April 1, 1883. 
 
 My dear Gertie, — I am so sorry that you have 
 been ill. If you had only come with me on the Ser- 
 via, and not stayed at home to work so hard over your 
 lessons, I do not believe you would have been ill at 
 all. And this morning the long voyage from Ceylon 
 would have been over. I wrote you a beautiful letter 
 two weeks ago to-day from the Verona, which I hope 
 you got. Ever since that, we have been sailing, and sail- 
 ing, and sailing, till it seemed as if we were never go- 
 ing to stop. We did stop two or three times, but we 
 always had to go aboard and start again. We stopped 
 at Aden, and Suez, and Port Said, and last Wednesday 
 at Malta. Malta was very nice. We stayed there six 
 hours, and wandered about the streets while the Ve- 
 rona was getting coal. The town is beautifully white 
 and clean, and the Verona, when we came back to her 
 again, was very black and dirty. But they washed 
 her all off while we were at dinner. 
 
 At Malta we saw the church where all the old 
 knights of Malta are buried, and the armor which 
 they used to wear, and then there is a queer old church, 
 which the monks have the care of, and when a monk 
 dies, they do not bury him underground, or burn him 
 
GRANADA. 281 
 
 up with fire, which would be better, but they stand 
 him up in a niche, in his monk's frock, and leave him ; 
 and there they are, a whole row of dry monks, dread- 
 ful-looking things, with their labels on them, to tell 
 who they used to be when they were alive. 
 
 Well, Wednesday afternoon we left Malta and 
 sailed on and on in the Verona. There did not much 
 happen on the Verona all the way. The people were 
 
 not very interesting. Only, Miss G got engaged 
 
 to the fourth officer, and that interested us all very 
 
 much indeed, and one morning Audley D and 
 
 Lawrence K got into a great fight on deck, and 
 
 Audley D hit Lawrence K in the eye and hurt 
 
 him, and then the two mothers, Mrs. D and Mrs. 
 
 K , went at each other and scolded terribly. And 
 
 that also interested us very much indeed. 
 
 This is about all I can think of that happened on 
 board the Verona. I can't tell you much about Spain 
 yet, for I have only been in it about an hour and half. 
 The people talk Spanish, which is very awkward, but 
 the sailing up to Gibraltar this morning was splendid. 
 The narrow gate of the Mediterranean, with its two 
 great rocks, one in Europe and one in Africa, was all 
 ablaze with the morning sun, and through it, westward, 
 lay America and Boston. I am going on Tuesday to 
 Malaga and then to Granada. . . Give my love to 
 everybody. Your affectionate, 
 
 Uncle Phillips. 
 
 Granada, under the Walls of the Alhambra, 
 April 8, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — I am very glad to hear about 
 the new house. I would rather see it this morning 
 than the Alhambra, which is towering up above my 
 
282 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 windows ! What number in M Street is it ? 
 
 Are you going to have ampelopsis growing on the 
 front wall ? Which is my room ? . . . Do write me 
 all about it, and tell me how it gets on and how it is 
 going to look. 
 
 I have been a week in Spain. I landed at Gibraltar 
 last Sunday morning, and immediately wrote a letter 
 to G. to signal my arrival. I stayed there till Tues- 
 day, and had a first-rate time. It was good to be on 
 shore again, and, besides, on the Verona I had struck 
 up quite a friendship with a certain Major Wing, who 
 was coming home from India on sick-leave. He is a 
 first-rate fellow. He landed at Malta, but he gave me 
 a letter to the colonel who commands all the artillery 
 at Gibraltar, and he was immensely civil. He took 
 me all over the fortifications, introduced me at the 
 Club, and made me almost live at his house, where 
 were a very pleasant wife and children ; so I saw 
 Gibraltar at its best and have the brightest recollec- 
 tions of it. 
 
 Tuesday night I took the boat for Malaga. David 
 Whitney and his family were on board, so that I feel 
 myself really in the Boston atmosphere again. . . . 
 
 The Alhambra joins on remarkably to the remem- 
 brances of India. Here is the farthest west, as there 
 is the farthest east, of the Mohammedan conquests, 
 and Granada and Delhi have very much in common 
 with each other. Granada is the more beautiful, at 
 least in situation, for here is the Sierra Nevada (as 
 pretty a range of snowy mountains as was ever seen) 
 in view all the time, and the best parts of the Alham- 
 bra beat anything in the old city of the Moguls. Still 
 I like to stand by India, and the substitution here of 
 the English tourist (one of whom I heard at lunch 
 
MADRID. 283 
 
 declare that this is a very much overrated place) for 
 the picturesque Hindoo or Mussulman makes a vast 
 change. 
 
 I received some letters here, and among others two 
 of yours, for which I am as always very grateful. They 
 brought you down to March 19, just past Professor 
 Allen's Sunday. There was another letter from 
 Canon Farrar, fixing it that I am to preach at the Ab- 
 bey on the 27th of May, and at St. Margaret's on 
 either the 3d or 10th of June. If the latter, it will 
 be Hospital Sunday, and so I want you to do me one 
 more favor. Will you go to my sermons and get me 
 several Hospital Sunday discourses (they are all in- 
 scribed on top over the text " Hospital Sunday " ) and 
 send them to me. . . . This week I expect to meet 
 the Brimmers, next Sunday I shall probably be in 
 Seville, the Sunday after in Madrid, and in London 
 as soon as possible after the 1st of May. Good-by, 
 love to them all. P. 
 
 Madrid, April 15, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — Ever since I received your letter 
 yesterday, I have been trying to realize that it is true 
 that aunt S. and aunt C. are really gone. It seems 
 almost impossible to picture the old house as it must 
 be to-day. ... I wish so much that I had been at 
 home, and I hope I shall hear from you some time 
 about the last of those two long, faithful lives. . . . 
 
 It seems as if this great change swept away from 
 the world the last remnants of the background of our 
 earliest life. Even after father and mother went, 
 as long as aunt S. lived, there was somebody who had 
 to do with us when we were babies. Now that gen- 
 eration has aU passed away. How many old scenes 
 
284 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 it brings up. This is Sunday morning, right after 
 breakfast, and it seems as if I could see a Sunday morn- 
 ing of the old times in Kowe Street, with the general 
 bustle of mother and aunt S. getting off to Sun- 
 day-school, and father settling down to read to the 
 bigger boys in the front parlor ; and there are faint 
 memories of much earlier days when the aunts must 
 have been blooming young ladies, though they seemed 
 to us then almost as old as they ever did in later times. 
 I hope the last years of their lives have been happy, 
 in spite of the suffering. They have been spared what 
 was most to be dreaded, long, hopeless illness and 
 helplessness. But I am so sorry to hear that aunt 
 
 S had to suffer. ... If there were ever lives 
 
 totally unselfish, and finding all their pleasure in mak- 
 ing other people happy, these were they. We know 
 
 aunt S best, of course, but dear little aunt C , 
 
 with her quiet ways, had something very touching 
 and beautiful about her. She seems to have slipped 
 out of life as unobtrusively and with as little trouble 
 as she lived. 
 
 When I left them, of course I knew it was very 
 likely that I should not see them again. But all I 
 had heard since made me feel as if they would be there 
 when I came home. I had a nice letter from aunt 
 Susan in the autumn, which must have been a good 
 deal of an effort for her to write, and I wrote to her, 
 from India, a letter which must have reached Andover 
 after it was all over. 
 
 It cannot be long — one cannot ask that it should 
 
 be long — before aunt S follows her sisters. Give 
 
 her my love and sympathy. As it may be that she 
 wiU go before I come home, the old house be left 
 empty, and something have to be done about the 
 
SALAMANCA. 285 
 
 property, I want to say that I should like to buy it, 
 and I authorize you to buy it for me, if the chance of- 
 fers. Or, if you and Arthur and John would not like 
 that, I will join with any or all of you to buy and 
 hold it. I do not know whether you liked it well 
 enough last sununer to think of making it a summer 
 home, but I should like to hold it as a place where, 
 for the whole or part of any summer, we could gather 
 and have a delightful, easy time, among the most 
 sacred associations which remain for us on earth. A 
 few very simple improvements would make it a most 
 charming place, so do not by any chance let it slip, 
 and hold, by purchase or otherwise, to as much of the 
 furniture as you can. One of these days, when I am 
 a little older and feebler, I should like to retire to 
 it and succeed Augustine Amory at the little church. 
 Is not our window done there yet ? 
 
 I am sorry for poor Kttle G . I hope she is 
 
 better long before this. Tell her I would come home 
 and see her if I really thought it would make her 
 rheumatism better. If it does not get well quickly, 
 tell her to get into the Servia and come over here, and 
 we will lay her down in the Spanish sun, and melt it 
 out of her. It is hard for the poor little thing to 
 have to suffer so. Give her my love, and tell her I 
 shall be back in about five months. 
 
 I am with the Brimmers and the Wisters of Phila- 
 delphia, a party of seven, which is quite a new travel- 
 ing experience for me. I like it. I shall be almost 
 in England when you get this. Good-by, P. 
 
 Salamanca, April 29, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — And so aunt S too is gone, 
 
 and the old house is empty ! I. only received your letter 
 
286 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 last evening, and all the night, as I rode here in the 
 train, I was thinking how strange it was. These 
 three who began their lives so near together, long ago, 
 and who have kept so close to one another all the 
 while, now going almost hand in hand into the other 
 world. . . . How pathetic it used to be to see aunt 
 S sitting there, full of pain, trying to do some lit- 
 tle bit of good in her curious ways, with her queer 
 little tracts, and her vague desire to exhort everybody 
 to be good. I always thought she must have been one 
 of the handsomest of the sisters when they were young. 
 Surely, no end that we could have dreamed of for 
 them could have been more perfect. But how we 
 shall miss them ! 
 
 . . . Such a dear old town as this is ! I am here 
 alone. Mr. Brimmer stayed at Madrid. I shall meet 
 them again on Tuesday or Wednesday at Burgos. No- 
 body here speaks a word of anything but Spanish, and I 
 have the funniest time to get along. This morning I 
 spent two hours in the cathedral, with an old priest 
 with whom I tallied in Latin. One of the towers of 
 the cathedral gave the suggestion, I think, of the tower 
 of Trinity Church in Boston. You will find a cut of 
 it in Fergusson's " Architecture " in my library. The 
 whole town is a wilderness of architectural delight. 
 Convents, churches, cloisters, colleges, and towers 
 everywhere. How I wish you were here this after- 
 noon. A good long letter from Arthur yesterday. 
 Very bright and busy. Well, ours is the generation 
 for the next twenty years, then we shall go as they 
 have gone, and a new set of youngsters take our places. 
 It is all right. . . . 
 
BURGOS. 287 
 
 Burgos, May 2, 1883. 
 
 My dear Lizzie, — Your last letter gave me such 
 a lively idea of what was going on in New York that 
 Burgos, by contrast, seems a little dull. Nothing goes 
 on in Burgos but the cathedral bells. My breakfast, 
 for which I am waiting, does not seem to go on at all. 
 But if I think of you all in New York, it will make 
 my head spin as much as is good for it, in this quiet 
 place, so I am going to answer your letter, in hopes to 
 get another. 
 
 Wildes would have been so proud and delighted if 
 he could have seen me this morning at 1.17, in fact, 
 from that to 3.12. No trains in Spain ever connect 
 with any others, so I was left over all that time at 
 Venta di Bafios, on my way from Leon here. And I 
 sat in the railway restaurant at that dead hour of the 
 night and read the report of the Eighth Church Con- 
 gress, which had reached me just before I started on 
 my journey. Think of it ! . . . Was ever such a 
 tribute paid to the general secretary before ? I was 
 listening still to Dr. Shattuck's account of the early 
 Ecclesiastical History of Boston, when the express 
 train from Madrid came along, and I got in, and soon 
 the cathedral of Burgos came in sight. It really is a 
 very great cathedral, the first I have seen in Spain. 
 
 The glorious things I have seen in Spain have been, 
 first, the approach to Gibraltar and the Pillars of Her- 
 cules ; second, the Alhambra, with the Sierra Nevada 
 behind it ; and third, the pictures of Yelasquez at Mad- 
 rid. Those things are all superb, worth the journey 
 here to see, if there were nothing else. There is a lot 
 else scattered along the road, but those are the great 
 things, and as to Gothic architecture, he who has seen 
 Chartres, Rheims, Amiens, and Cologne (to say nothing 
 
288 A YEAR m EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 of York and Durliam) need not be impatient about 
 seeing Seville, or Leon, or Toledo, or even Burgos ; 
 though Burgos is far the finest of them all, and must 
 rank, though not very high, among the greatest cathe- 
 drals of the world. 
 
 There is something in their architecture that is like 
 the people, a trace of something coarse, a lack of just 
 the best refinement. The people whose great medi- 
 aeval glory is the Inquisition, and whose great modern 
 delight is the bull-fight, must have something brutal 
 in their very constitution. Now the Moors were thor- 
 ough gentlemen, not a touch in them of the sham 
 which was always in the Hidalgo ; so the Moorish 
 architecture is exquisite in its refinement, and Ve- 
 lasquez was too great for the national coarseness to 
 spoil him, though he has it, and Gibraltar belongs to 
 Eng^land ! So that Nature and the Moors and Velas- 
 quez have done the finest things in Spain. 
 
 . . . To-morrow I go to Paris, whence I started 
 last August to join you in Cologne. It has been a 
 long loop, and has inclosed a lot of pleasant things. 
 Now the summer is almost here, and then comes — 
 home. My friend Mr. Paine, of Boston, talked before 
 I left of coming over to join me, about the first of 
 July, and I think he will do so. Write me what you 
 and Arthur are doing and planning. My love to him. 
 Affectionately, Phillips. 
 
 Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
 Whit Sunday, May 13, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — . . . I left the Brimmers at 
 Biarritz and came over here from Paris last Tuesday. 
 Mr. Brimmer has been the most charming com- 
 pany, and all the party have been very pleasant. I 
 
LONDON. 289 
 
 have seen a good many people since I arrived. Every- 
 body is hospitable and kind. This morning I have 
 been preaching for Canon Duckworth at St. Mark's 
 in St. John's Wood. 
 
 Yesterday I went to the opening of the great Fish- 
 eries Exhibition, where they have everything you can 
 imagine, from any land you ever (or never) saw, that 
 has anything to do with catching fishes. The Prince 
 and Princess of Wales were there, and the Prince 
 made a speech. I saw him also the other day at the 
 Stanley Memorial Committee. He is pleasant-looking 
 and has easy manners. The new Dean is very cor- 
 dial and friendly. I saw the new Archbishop the other 
 day. He looks able and has a real ecclesiastical face. 
 
 I found at Barings' the two packages of sermons which 
 you so kindly sent, and I was grateful to you in the 
 midst of the row and hurly-burly of Bishopsgate Street. 
 They were just what I wanted, except that I am not 
 to preach on Hospital Sunday after all. Next Sun- 
 day morning I preach at the Chapel Royal, Savoy, 
 one of the old historic churches of London. The fol- 
 lowing Sunday (27th) I preach at the Abbey in the 
 evening, and the next Sunday, June 3d, I preach for 
 Farrar in St. Margaret's. 
 
 I have a little plan in which I need your help. I 
 want to send home some little thing for the church, 
 and I thought I would get a piece of nice stained 
 glass for the robing-room window, — the little win- 
 dow behind which we put on our surplices. It would 
 brighten up a little that rather doleful room. Would 
 you go to Chester and make him measure it very care- 
 fully, giving the exact size of the glass inside the frame, 
 and also showing how much of the window is arranged 
 to open. Please make him very careful about the 
 
290 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA, 
 
 exactness of the measures. Will you do this as soon 
 as you can, so that I can see about it while I am in 
 London ? 
 
 I suppose by this time the Andover window must 
 be in its place, and I hope it is quite satisfactory. I 
 do not suppose that it can be made in any way a 
 memorial of the aunts, as well as of father and mo- 
 ther. I almost wish we could put up somewhere a 
 plain tablet with their names upon it, that they might 
 be somehow remembered in connection with the 
 church. They offered, I believe, at one time, a part 
 of the old orchard as the site for it. I am anxious to 
 hear what you think of my plans regarding the old 
 house. The more I think of it, the more I want it. 
 
 Speaking of windows, I saw Mr. and Mrs. Fred Dex- 
 ter in church to-night, and they tell me that the new 
 window in Trinity is wholly satisfactory and very 
 beautiful. At present I am very much troubled about 
 the little triangle in front of Trinity. It looks as if 
 it would be built on, and poor Trinity hidden away 
 behind a tenement house. If you meet any fellow in 
 the street who looks as if he would like to give sixty 
 thousand dollars to keep it open, stop him for me and 
 tell him we will put up a monument to him in Trinity 
 when he dies. Good-by. 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
 Sunday, May 20, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — I have been rich in letters this 
 
 last week. First came M 's, poetry. . . , Then 
 
 Tood's letter, which shows how wonderfully the female 
 mind is getting educated in America. To get tlieso 
 letters a few days after they were written makes me 
 
LONDON. 291 
 
 feel as if I were almost at home. On the strength of 
 them, I went yesterday and engaged a passage from 
 Liverpool for Boston on the Cephalonia, which sails 
 the 12th of September. So that I ought to be in 
 Clarendon Street on the 22d, and preach in Trinity 
 on the 23d ! Will you be glad to see me ? 
 
 So you have sold your old house. We had some 
 very good times there, and it wiU always be dear to 
 you. I hope the new one which is building is going 
 to see the happiest years of aU. We are all good for 
 twenty years more, and they shall be as happy as the 
 accumulations of the past can make them. Now I am 
 going off to preach at the Savoy Chapel. 
 
 Four p. M. 
 
 I have been and preached. There was a great 
 crowd, and everything went off very well. . . . Then 
 I took lunch with the Baroness Burdett-Coutts. I 
 am going there to a dinner on Tuesday, to meet the 
 new Archbishop. . . . 
 
 London is very pleasant now, full of interesting peo- 
 ple. Friday I dined at Mr. Lowell's, with Professor 
 Huxley. There were only four of us, so that we had 
 the great skeptic all to ourselves, and he was very in- 
 teresting. Next Saturday I am going to Farrar's to 
 meet a lot of people. Among others, Matthew Arnold, 
 whom I am very anxious to see. He is coming to 
 America, I understand, this autumn. 
 
 I am glad John preached at Trinity. Tell the sup- 
 plies to hurry up, for they will not have much more 
 chance. I am coming home in the Cephalonia. 
 Meanwhile, why cannot you run over and join Paine 
 and me this summer ? . . . 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
292 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
 
 May 27, 1883. 
 
 My dear William, — I am very late about my 
 Sunday letter. The fact is, I am just home from the 
 Abbey, where I have been preaching this evening. 
 There was the same great throng of people that is 
 always there, and the Abbey was as solemn and glori- 
 ous as ever. I could not help putting into my sermon 
 an allusion to our dear little Dean of old, which I 
 think the people were glad to hear. Then we went 
 into the deanery, just the way we used to do. I like 
 the new Dean very much, and his love for Stanley 
 is delightful. Mrs. Bradley and her daughters are 
 also very pleasant. A young fellow, Hallam Tenny- 
 son, son of the Poet Laureate, was there. Does it 
 not make "In Memoriam" seem very real to meet 
 those two names together ? He is a very nice fellow, 
 and asked me to come down to the Isle of Wight and 
 see his father, which I have a great mind to do. I 
 preached for Canon Boyd Carpenter this morning, at 
 Christ Church, Lancaster Gate, near Hyde Park. 
 Next Sunday morning, I am to preach in old St. 
 Margaret's for Farrar, which will be very interesting. 
 He gave me a big dinner last night, with many clerical 
 folk, the most interesting of whom was Lightfoot, the 
 Bishop of Durham, one of the great scholars of the 
 English Church. Matthew Arnold was to have been 
 there, but at the last moment he was invited to dine 
 with Prince Leopold, and it seems that means a com- 
 mand, and breaks every other engagement. . . . Far- 
 rar has asked me to lunch with him next Thursday, 
 so I shall see him there. 
 
 I went on Tuesday to a tremendous dinner party 
 at the Baroness Burdett-Coutts's, with sweUs as thick 
 
LONDON. 293 
 
 as huckleberries. Then, for variety, I went on Thurs- 
 day night with K to an all-night meeting of 
 
 the Salvation Army, what they, in their disagree- 
 able lingo, call " All night with Jesus." They close 
 the doors at eleven, and do not let anybody go out till 
 haK past four a. m. We made arrangements before 
 going in that we should be let out at one A. M., and then 
 we had to drive an hour in a hansom to get home. 
 The meeting was noisy and unpleasant, but there was 
 nothing very bad about it, and I am not sure that it 
 might not do good to somebody. 
 
 One lovely day this week I went on a Cromwell 
 pilgrimage to Huntington, where Oliver was born, and 
 saw the register of his baptism, the house in which he 
 was born, and the country in the midst of which he 
 grew up. It was the sweetest of days, with the apple- 
 trees in full blossom, and the hawthorn hedges just 
 opening in white and pink. These and many other 
 things have filled up my time very full, but it is very 
 delightful. 
 
 I shall spend two more Sundays in London ; then, 
 on the 17th of June, I preach for Dean Plumptre 
 at Wells, and probably on the 26th at Lincoln. I 
 am going also to make a little visit to the Bishop of 
 Rochester. 
 
 . . . The 23d of September will soon be here, and 
 who knows but we may be all together in the old 
 Andover house by the summer of 1884? I hope 
 nothing will interfere with my plans there. I wish 
 you were here for to-morrow. We would get up a 
 'scursion. . . . Affectionately, P. 
 
294 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 Wkstminstbr Palace Hotel, London, 
 June 3, 1883. 
 
 My dear Tood, — Your wicked papa has not sent 
 me any letter this week, and so I am not going to 
 write to him to-day, but I shall answer your beautiful 
 letter, which traveled all the way to London, and was 
 delivered here by a postman with a red coat, two or 
 three weeks ago. He looked very proud when he 
 came in, as if he knew that he had a beautiful letter 
 in his bundle, and all the people in the street stood 
 aside to make way for him, so that Tood's letter might 
 not be delayed. 
 
 How quickly you have learned to read and write ! 
 I am very sorry for you, for they now will make you 
 read and study a great many stupid books, and you 
 will have to write letters all your days. When I get 
 home, I am going to make you write my sermons for 
 me, and I think of engaging you for my amanuensis 
 at a salary of twenty cents a month, with which you 
 can buy no end of gumdrops. If you do not know' 
 what an amanuensis is, ask Agnes, and tell her I will 
 bring her a present if she can spell it right the first 
 time. 
 
 Poor little Gertie ! What a terrible time she has 
 had. It must have been very good for her to have 
 you to take care of her, and run her errands, and play 
 with her, and write her letters. I suppose that is 
 the reason why you hurried so and learned to write. 
 It was a great pity that I never got her letter about 
 the Christmas presents, but I am very glad that you 
 liked the coupe. What do you want me to bring 
 you home from London? Write me another letter 
 and tell me, and tell Gertie I shall be very happy 
 when I get another letter from her written with her 
 own little fingers. 
 
LONDON. 295 
 
 I want to see your new house, which I am sure will 
 be very pretty. I wonder where you are going to be 
 this summer? Now, I am going off to preach in a 
 queer old church built almost a thousand years ago, 
 before your father or mother was bom. Give my 
 love to them, and to Agnes, and to Gertie, and to the 
 new doll. Your affectionate uncle Phillips. 
 
 London, June 10, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — This past week has been happy 
 in two letters from you. The week before I had 
 none, as I remarked in my letter to Toody of last 
 Sunday. That seems to have been only an ac- 
 cident of the mails, and not to mean any failure of 
 brotherly kindness. For the riches of this week I am 
 sincerely thankful, but it was sad news that your let- 
 ter brought about the death of Miss Harmon. A 
 long letter from Allen came at the same time, but I 
 opened yours first and so learned it from you. She 
 was a good, true woman, and the amount of help 
 which she has given to the poor and comfort to the 
 suffering is incalculable. I have been in the habit of 
 trusting so much to her of that part of the work for 
 which I have not the time and am not well fitted to 
 do, that I shall miss her more than I can say. Her 
 place can never be filled, and how we can manage to 
 get along without her I do not see at once. It was 
 a hard life, but I do not know where one could see 
 a more useful one 
 
 I have been preaching in St. Paul's to-day by invi- 
 tation of the Bishop of London. It is Hospital Sun- 
 day; the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs came in state, and 
 there was an enormous crowd there, but it is too aw- 
 fully big, bald and barren, and needs color dreadfully. 
 
296 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 I should rather have the Abbey, although it is good to 
 get one chance at the great Cathedral. On Wednes- 
 day I am going to another great London sight. I 
 am to dine with the Lord Mayor and the Lady 
 Mayoress at the Mansion House, to meet the Arch- 
 bishop and the Bishops, — a great city dinner with 
 turtle soup and all that sort of thing. It will be good 
 fun. Next Sunday 1 am going to spend at Wells 
 with Plumptre, whom you remember, and who is now 
 Dean of Wells. It is one of the prettiest cathedrals 
 in England. John and I went there three years ago. 
 On the 21st I am going down to the Isle of Wight 
 to spend a day and a night at Tennyson's. I have 
 been, and am going, to a great many dinners and 
 receptions ; everybody is very hospitable and kind, 
 and it is very amusing. 
 
 In a few weeks I shall be ready to puU up and be 
 off for the Continent again. I am going on Tuesday 
 to stay with the Bishop of Rochester, and to-morrbw 
 I go with him to hear the discussion on the marriage 
 with the deceased wife's sister in the House of Lords. 
 That is the question which now is keeping England 
 excited. I have an invitation from the University at 
 Cambridge to come next spring in May, and preach 
 three sermons before them. Do you think I could do 
 it ? Give my love to everybody. 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 Deanery, Wells, June 17, 1883. 
 Dear William, — No letter from you the past week. 
 I suppose there are two upon their way, and I shall 
 get them both in a day or two. Meanwhile, I will 
 not break my habit of a weekly letter, of which I am 
 quite proud, for I have kept it up without a break all 
 
WELLS. 297 
 
 this year. Just think, it was a year next Wednesday 
 that we were all huddled together on the Servia, and 
 saw the last of one another in that tremendous crowd. 
 It has been a delightful year, but one is not sorry to 
 think that it is over, and only the last flourish of it left 
 before one turns his face homeward. 
 
 Do you remember Dean Plumptre, and the day he 
 preached at Trinity ? He has grown older, and is now 
 Dean of Wells, and 1 am staying with him ; in a few 
 minutes I am going to preach for him, in one of the 
 loveliest of the cathedrals. He is a true scholar and 
 an interesting man. His wife was a sister of the great 
 theological teacher, Frederick Maurice. . . . There is 
 staying here a son of Maurice's, Colonel Maurice, who 
 was in South Africa at Tel El Kebir, and who is writ- 
 ing his father's Life. He is a very charming person 
 and makes my little visit much pleasanter than it could 
 otherwise have been. Then close by lives Freeman, 
 the historian, whose lectures at the Lowell Listitute 
 you and I went to hear. Colonel Maurice and I are 
 going to his house to dinner this evening. ... I 
 dined the other day with another Lowell lecturer, 
 Professor Bryce, whom we also went to hear together, 
 and who is the pleasantest of men and hosts. Stop- 
 ford Brooke was there, and other interesting people. 
 One other evening last week I was at the Mansion 
 House at the Lord Mayor's dinner to the Archbishops 
 and Bishops. We had the city of London's famous 
 turtle soup and ever so many curious customs. . . . 
 
 Only think, I am writing in a room which the Dean 
 of Wells built in 1472, in which to entertain Henry 
 VII. when he was coming back from the conquest 
 of Perkin Warbeck. Does n't that sound old and 
 bric-a-brac-ish ? ... 
 
298 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 Farbingfobd, Freshwater, 
 Isle of Wight, June 22, 1883. 
 
 Dear Mary, — Here is another place which seems 
 interesting enough to be worthy of a few lines to 
 you. Besides, it is the home of a brother poet of 
 yours, for Tennyson is sleeping somewhere downstairs, 
 and that will interest you. So, as they do not have 
 any breakfast until half past nine, and I am up and 
 dressed at eight, here goes for a little letter. 
 
 I came down here yesterday, a long three hours* run 
 from London, through a very pretty country, passing 
 Winchester cathedral and other attractive things upon 
 the way. At last we crossed the Channel in a little 
 cockleshell of a steamboat, and landed at Yaimouth, 
 where Hallam Tennyson was waiting for me with the 
 carriage. Then a pretty drive over the Downs, with 
 two or three small villages upon the way, brought us, 
 in about three miles, to this house. Here -the great 
 poet lives. He is finer than his pictures, a man of 
 good six feet and over, but stooping as he walks, for 
 he is seventy-four years old, and we shall stoop if we 
 ever live to that age. A big dome of a head, bald on 
 the forehead and the top, and very fine to look at. 
 His hair, where he is not bald, an iron-gray, with 
 much whiter mustache and beard, a deep bright eye, 
 a grand, eagle nose, a mouth which you cannot see, a 
 black felt hat, and a loose tweed suit. These were 
 what I noticed in the author of " In Memoriam." 
 
 The house is a delightful old rambling thing, whose 
 geography one never learns, not elegant but very com- 
 fortable, covered with pictures inside and ivies outside, 
 with superb ilexes and other trees about it, and lovely 
 pieces of view over the Channel here and there. 
 
 He was just as good as he could be, and we all 
 
ISLE OF WIGHT. 299 
 
 went to a place behind the house, where the trees 
 leave a large circle, with beautiful grass, and tables 
 and chairs scattered about. Here we sat down and 
 talked. Tennyson was inclined to be misanthropic, 
 talked about Socialism, Atheism, and another great 
 catastrophe like the French Revolution coming on the 
 world. He declared that if he were a Yankee, he 
 woidd be ashamed to keep the Alabama money, but he 
 let himself be contradicted about his gloomy views, and 
 by and by became more cheerful. We had tea out of 
 doors, took a walk for various views, then, having come 
 to know me pretty well, he wanted to know if I smoked, 
 and we went up to the study, a big, bright, crowded 
 room, where he writes his Idyls, and there we stayed 
 till dinner time. 
 
 Dinner was very lively. Mrs. Tennyson is a dear 
 old lady, a great invalid, as sweet and pathetic as a 
 picture. Then there are staying here Mr. Lushington, 
 a great Greek scholar, a Miss B., who knows every- 
 body and tells funny stories, and another Miss B., 
 her pretty niece, with the loveliest smile. After 
 dinner, Tennyson and I went up to the study again, 
 and I had him to myself for two or three hours. We 
 smoked, and he talked of metaphysics, and poetry, 
 and religion, his own life, and Hallam, and all the 
 poems. It was very delightful, for he was gentle, 
 and reverent, and tender, and hopeful. Then we went 
 down to the drawing-room, where the rest were, and 
 he read his poetry to us till the clock said twelve. 
 "LocksleyHall," " Sir Galahad," pieces of " Maud," 
 (which he specially likes to read), and some of his 
 dialect poems. He said, by the way, in reading " Locks- 
 ley Hall " that the verse beginning 
 
 " Love took up the glass of time," etc., 
 
300 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 was the best simile he ever made ; and that and a cer- 
 tain line in the " Gardener's Daughter," were the ones 
 on which he most piqued himself. Just after midnight 
 we came up to bed. They had the prettiest way at 
 dinner of getting up before the fruit came and going 
 into the drawing-room, where there was a fresh table 
 spread by the window, looking out on the lawn and 
 Channel. 
 
 Well, so much about Tennyson. Thanks for your 
 letter, which was very good to get. . . . 
 
 The Pkecentory, Lincoln, June 23, 1883. 
 Dear William, — Is it not pretty hard, when I 
 think I have a beautiful long letter from you, to open 
 it and find nothing except some circulars ? You might 
 at least have written on the back of' them. ... I sent 
 a photograph to G., the other day, which I hope she 
 likes. Yesterday I came down here. Do you re- 
 member Lincoln? The cathedral is very gorgeous, 
 and the old town is quaint. Last night, the Pre- 
 centor, with whom I am staying, had a dinner-party 
 of the clergy, with deans, sub-deans, and canons. The 
 Bishop of Lincoln was there, Wordsworth, nephew of 
 the poet, a man who ought to have lived five centuries 
 ago. He said he thought the present House of Lords 
 would not last more than five years longer, and ought 
 not to, because they had passed a bill allowing a man to 
 marry his deceased wife's sister ! The Precentor, my 
 host, is a nice old gentleman, and the place is very 
 beautiful and full of association. ... I preached this 
 morning in the cathedral, close to the place where St. 
 Hugo lies buried, and took tea this afternoon with the 
 sub-dean, in the room where Paley, who used to be 
 sub-dean here, wrote his " Natural Theology." 
 
LONDON. 301 
 
 To-morrow, I go back to London. On Wednesday, 
 Paine arrives from America, and my subsequent move- 
 ments will be somewhat governed by him. Indeed, 
 the 12th of September seems so near that it does not 
 much matter what one does between. . . . 
 
 Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
 Sunday, July 1, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — You are forty-nine years old 
 to-morrow ! Are you glad or sorry ? Almost half a 
 century, you see, and the only bother about it is that 
 there is so much less remaining, for life has been very 
 good, and one wishes there were more of it. I wish 
 we were all going to live to be five hxmdred. But 
 no matter! There are pleasant times still ahead, 
 and we will make the most of them, so that when 
 another forty-nine years are past, and you are ninety- 
 eight, we shall agree that the second half has been 
 even better than the first. I am all the more in a 
 hurry to get home and begin the new period, now that 
 you are forty-nine, seven times seven, which they say 
 is the grand climacteric of life. But to-night I send 
 you my heartiest God bless you, and congratulations 
 upon all the past and hopes for all the future. 
 
 I am writing in Paine's room, for he has the luxury 
 of a parlor, and I use it as if it were my own. He 
 arrived on Wednesday, and I was glad enough to see 
 him ; since then we have talked over a thousand 
 things. It is wonderfully like being at home again to 
 hear so directly from you all. . . . 
 
 I preached for Dr. Vaughan at the Temple, this 
 morning. It was a noble congregation, the church 
 packed with lawyers, and the service very beautiful. 
 The good doctor had a long surplice made especially 
 
302 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 for the occasion, and presented it to me as a memento, 
 so the Temple surplice will stand in Trinity pulpit for 
 many years. Last Sunday I wrote to you from Lin- 
 coln. I came back from there on Monday, and have 
 had a very interesting week. There was a dinner at the 
 Bishop of Carlisle's, with many interesting people, 
 an evening in the House of Lords, where the bill for 
 allowing marriage with the deceased wife's sister got 
 defeated, a luncheon down at Dulwich, whither I went 
 with the Bishop of Rochester and Dr. Boyd of St. 
 Andrew's, who wrote the " Recreations of a Country 
 Parson." At luncheon I sat between Robert Brown- 
 ing and Jean Ingelow, and had a delightful time. 
 Then I went down to the Tower with a party of gov- 
 ernment people, Gladstone, and Foster, and Bright, 
 and others. There was an evening party at Lady Stan- 
 ley's, where I saw Browning again, and yesterday 
 afternoon Newman Hall gave me a party. These and 
 some other things have filled the week, and it has 
 been most enjoyable. To-morrow, I am going down 
 with Farrar to spend a night with a friend of his in 
 the country, to meet Matthew Arnold, who lives some- 
 where there. 
 
 This afternoon, Paine and I drove out to Hamp- 
 stead Heath and saw Holiday, who made his and Mr. 
 Morrill's windows. The last time I saw him was 
 when I went to order Paine's window, when you and I 
 were in London together. How I wish you were here 
 now ! Paine is deeply interested in charity organiza- 
 tions, dispensaries, police stations, and all that sort of 
 thing. We shall stay here probably three, certainly 
 two weeks longer, and then be off for the great Conti- 
 nent. It has grown quite hot, and in a few weeks 
 more we shall be glad to be away. There are a great 
 
LONDON. 303 
 
 many Americans here. ... I watcli every letter to 
 hear what your plans are for the summer, and where 
 you will be when I get home. Already the promise of 
 autumn begins to appear. Allen has written to ask 
 me to a dinner of the club on the 24th of September, 
 and President Eliot wants me to take morning prayers 
 at Cambridge during November. This is Commence- 
 ment week. You have had Arthur and John with 
 you, I suppose, and I hope that you talked about me. 
 
 Good-by, my love to G . 
 
 Your affectionate P. 
 
 Westminster Palace Hotel, July 8, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — . . . I am having a first-rate 
 time, but it is all the pleasanter because it is not going 
 to last forever. The Cephalonia (No. 28 is our room) 
 will sail on the 12th of September. I will tell you 
 what I have been doing this week. 
 
 Monday, I went down to the country to stay with 
 Mr. Leaf, a friend of Farrar's. It was a lovely place, 
 with a glorious park, great trees, and a sumptuous 
 house. There we passed an idle day, and in the even- 
 ing had a big dinner, to which came Matthew Arnold 
 and his daughter, who live close by. He was very 
 amusing, and the next morning I went to breakfast 
 with him, saw his wife, his house and study, and liked 
 him very much. He has promised to stay with me 
 when he comes to Boston. 
 
 On Tuesday, I came back to town, and we had a 
 pleasant dinner party that night at the house of a Mr. 
 Mills. After that was over, I went to one of Mrs. 
 Gladstone's receptions, to which I was invited to see 
 the Grand Old Man ; he had to go to the House 
 of Commons, and so I did not see him ; but I am 
 
304 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 going there again next Tuesday. Wednesday was the 
 4th of July, which we celebrated by calling on the 
 American minister. Thursday was speech day at 
 Harrow School, and Paine and I went. I was there 
 with John three years ago, and was glad to go again. 
 The boys spoke well, and it was very bright and quite 
 like Class Day. Then we had a luncheon, where Lord 
 Dufferin and I made speeches. When I came back I 
 went to dinner at Lady Frances Baillie's, the sister of 
 Dean Stanley's wife. It was very pleasant. We had 
 Grove, and Robert Browning, and the Bishop of Litch- 
 field; and my companion was Mrs. Ritchie (Thack- 
 eray's daughter), who wrote "The Village on the 
 Cliff" and all those nice novels, and who told me a 
 great deal about her father. Friday, I went to Rich- 
 mond and saw the prettiest view in England, and in 
 the evening dined with the Precentor at the Abbey. 
 After dinner, we went into the Abbey and strolled 
 about in the dark, with wonderfully pretty effects in 
 the great arches. Saturday, I went to a garden party 
 at Fulham Palace, the Bishop of London's, where 
 there were many clergymen, and in the evening ten 
 miles out of town to Upper Tooting, where I dined 
 with Mr. Macmillan, the publisher. 
 
 Have you read " John Inglesant " ? Mr. Short- 
 house, the man who wrote it, was the principal guest, and 
 there were a great many agreeable people. This morn- 
 ing, we went to the Foundling Hospital and heard the 
 children sing, so the week has gone with a good deal 
 of sight-seeing to fill up the gaps. Everybody is hospi- 
 table and kind, and it would be pleasant to stay here 
 a long time ; but our departure now is definitely fixed 
 for the 19th, when we shall go somewhere on the Con- 
 tinent. We do not yet know where, or I would tel] 
 
LONDON. 305 
 
 you, but no doubt our uncertainty will solve itself in 
 the course of the next week, and by next Sunday I can 
 tell you something of our summer's route. All the 
 time, while our weather here is delightful, you are 
 sweltering in heat. This morning's paper says the 
 heat in New York yesterday was terrible. I am awfully 
 sorry for you. Do take a steamer and come over, you 
 and the total family, and we will lie upon the grass 
 in Hyde Park together till you all get cool. . . . 
 God bless you all always. P. 
 
 Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
 July 10, 1883. 
 
 My Dear Gertie, — ... I wish you were here, 
 for it is beautifully fresh and cool, and we would go off 
 and see some kind of pretty things. I went down into 
 the country the other day, and saw some people whom 
 I met on the journey home from India. It was the 
 prettiest place, and you would have enjoyed it ever so 
 much. 
 
 They had the biggest strawberries you ever saw, and 
 you would have enjoyed picking them a great deal 
 more than I did. I wish strawberries grew on trees. 
 They would be so much easier to pick. There was a 
 nice little girl there who was a great friend of mine 
 on the voyage. Her name is Nora, and she gave me 
 her photograph. I think I will put it into this letter, 
 so that you can see what an English child looks like, 
 only» you must keep it safe and give it to me when I get 
 to Boston, for I told Nora Buchanan that I should 
 keep it till I saw her again. Her father has a tea 
 plantation up in the Himalaya Mountains, and her 
 mother and she go there every winter. She has got a 
 pony named Brownie, and a big dog and a little dog, 
 and lots of pets. 
 
306 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 When we get to living up in the old house at An- 
 clover, we will have some dogs too, and perhaps some 
 day we will get a pony for you to ride on ; or would 
 vou rather have a donkey with long ears, and a 
 delightful little cart to drive in ? What did you do 
 on the 4th of Jidy ? The people here seemed to think 
 that it was just like any other day ; nobody was firing 
 crackers, or blowing soap bubbles, and there were no 
 American flags flying anywhere ; but one day, two 
 weeks ago, London was greatly excited, it being the 
 Queen's Coronation Day, and I met the Lord Mayor 
 in his coach, with a red cloak on and a big gold chain 
 around his neck. I thank you so much for your little 
 note, and for the picture of yourself, which is set up 
 in my room. You must write to me again when 
 you can, and I will see you in September. By that 
 time you must be well and fat and rosy. Now good- 
 by. My love to Agnes and Toodie. 
 
 Your loving uncle, P. 
 
 Westminster Palace Hotel, July 15, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — . . . On Thursday next, the 
 19th, we leave England. We had to fix some certain 
 day and hold to it, or we should have never got away. 
 We go first through France into the Pyrenees, where 
 we shall get a little journey, just enough to see what 
 they are like, and then by interesting routes, more 
 or less out of the way, into the Tyrol through Swit- 
 zerland. Next Sunday, July 22, we probably shall 
 spend at Bagneres de Luchon, pretty near the Spanish 
 border. I am sorry to leave London, and never shall 
 forget my two months here. It has been great fun, 
 and the hospitality of everybody has been most 
 abundant. The last week has been busy socially. 
 
LONDON. 307 
 
 The pleasantest evening, perhaps, was Tuesday at Mr. 
 Gladstone's, where I had a good sight of and talk with 
 the great man, and gazed at a multitude of splendid 
 folks with diamonds and titles. He is certainly the 
 greatest man in England, and the look of him is quite 
 worthy of his fame. Another evening I dined in the 
 Jerusalem Chamber with the Dean and Chapter of the 
 Abbey, and the members of their choir. That was 
 very jolly, and recalled the time eight years ago when 
 I went to the same dinner and sat by Stanley's side. 
 This morning I am going to preach for Llewellyn 
 Davis, whom you and I once went to hear in St. Paul's. 
 He is a most interesting man and one of the best 
 spirits in the English Church. This will be my last 
 sermon in England. Mr. Macmillan has asked me to 
 publish the sermons which I have preached here, un- 
 der the title " Sermons Preached to English Congre- 
 gations," and I have about made up my mind to do so. 
 He is the publisher of my last volume. This one will 
 have thirteen sermons, and be a pleasant memento of 
 my English visit. I have declined the invitation to 
 come and preach at Cambridge next spring, but they 
 have intimated that it will be repeated some other 
 year, and then I should like to come and make a uni- 
 versity visit. I have seen nothing of the universities 
 this time. 
 
 I want to see you all dreadfully. ... P. 
 
 London, July 15, 1883. 
 
 My dear Hattie, ^ — It was most kind of you to 
 take up the pen which your husband had so long 
 dropped, and write me the pleasant letter which I 
 got last week, and it seems that its quiet rebuke was 
 felt, for John wrote the next day. Behold the noble 
 
 ^ A sister-iu-law« 
 
308 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 influence of a good wife ! . . . Now I think of you as 
 having the happiest of summers in your seashore home. 
 As I listen Mar ion wards, I hear a rich, low sound of 
 which I am not quite sure whether it is the moaning 
 of the sea, as it beats on your back doorstep, or the 
 
 theological discussions of B , P , and J 
 
 under the haystack. Either sound would be delight- 
 ful. To have them both together in your ears all day 
 must be a little heaven below, and it must be all the 
 pleasanter to you this year, because you can look 
 back to such a bright, successful winter in Springfield, 
 and look forward to another, which will no doubt 
 be still better. I am so thankful to hear of the way 
 in which every difficulty has disappeared. ... I wish 
 I could hope to run to Marion this autumn, and see 
 you on your own rocks, with your young barbarians at 
 play about you. But I shall be home too late, and 
 dear me ! I sometimes pleasantly shiver in the midst 
 of this delightful idleness at the thought of how much 
 there is to do next winter. It is like thinking of 
 January in July. But, fortunately, less and less de- 
 pends on us, and the younger clergy, who read Second 
 Lessons at the Diocesan Convention, have the brunt 
 of the battle. 
 
 Give my tenderest love to your young clergyman. 
 Tell him I thank him heartily for his letter. Be sure 
 that I thank you sincerely for yours. Kiss the babies 
 for me, and remember that I am always, 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 Pau, Sunday, July 22, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — The curtain has fallen and risen 
 again; the whole scene has changed. London, with 
 all its fun, is far away, and here we are close to the 
 
PAU. 309 
 
 Pyrenees. It is delightfully cool and pleasant, and 
 the view out of my window is wonderfully beautiful. 
 I have time enough to look at it, for I am laid up 
 with a lame leg. On the way from Chartres to Bor- 
 deaux I struck my leg in leaving the railway coach, 
 and this morning I sent for a French doctor, who bade 
 me lie still to-day. So here I am, writing, like M., on 
 a book instead of a table. The queer little doctor 
 assures me that it will be all right to-morrow morning, 
 and then we shall push on up to Eaux Bonnes. It is 
 only a bruise, I believe. Paine is as kind as kind can 
 be, and does everything for me, and we are having a 
 delightful time. Just now he has gone out to see the 
 town, and I am trying to write in this miserable way 
 upon my back. 
 
 I am busy getting my volume of sermons ready for 
 Macmillan. Seven of them are finished, and there 
 will be seven more. The volume will be called " Ser- 
 mons Preached in English Churches," and will be 
 dedicated " To many friends in England, in remem- 
 brance of their cordial welcome." I never can forget 
 how hospitable English people were. I counted up, 
 before I left London, sixty separate occasions on which 
 I had been entertained, and at almost all I had seen 
 interesting people. We left London last Thursday 
 morning. 
 
 . . . We came through that night to Chartres, 
 which Paine had never • seen, and the next night to 
 Bordeaux, and yesterday here. I have been buying 
 a lot of books in London, and just before I left, Mac- 
 millan kindly undertook to have them packed and sent 
 to your care. There will be one or two big boxes of 
 them. Will you see to them when they arrive, and 
 have them sent to my house ? They are all for my 
 
310 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 owii use, mostly theological books, and ought to pass 
 as tools of trade. Of course, if they must pay duty, 
 you will pay it for me. They have been bought so 
 miscellaneously in many places, one here and another 
 there, that I cannot say just what they have cost, but 
 it is about f 800 or f 900. You must do what you 
 think best about it, and I hope it will not give you a 
 great deal of trouble. . . . 
 
 Yours affectionately, P. 
 
 BagkIcres de Luchon, 
 Sunday, July 29, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — ... We have had a splendid 
 Pyrenean week. Great mountains with snowy sides, 
 beautiful rich valleys, wild ravines, quaint villages, a 
 handsome, happy people, and bright skies, — anybody 
 ought to look back with pleasure on a whole week of 
 these. It is not exactly like any other country which 
 I know. Perhaps it is more like some parts of the 
 Tyrol than anything else. It reminds me at times of 
 some parts of the road up the valley of the Inn, which 
 you and I drove up together once. There is a luxuri- 
 ance about these valleys, of which I hardly ever saw 
 the like. The way they overrun with water is delicious. 
 You are never away from the sound of a brook or 
 a waterfall. Streams run by the side of every road. 
 There are fountains in every man's back yard, every 
 bank has a small cascade tumbling over it, and all the 
 rocks look as if Moses had been about here with 
 his rod, striking out right and left. Last night the 
 abundance of waters culminated in a drenching rain, 
 and we reached here in the midst of floods. This 
 morning all is bright as Paradise. It is a garden of 
 a place, way up in the hills, and the Frenchmen have 
 
BAGNERES DE LUCHON. 311 
 
 made a prett}^ summer resort of it. I am still a little 
 lame, and am lying by to get well. The week's travel- 
 ing has not given me much chance to repair my leg, 
 and I hope my conversation has been better than my 
 walk. Taking pity on my imprisonment, the band 
 came this morning and played under my window, and 
 the Frenchmen and Frenchwomen strolled up and 
 down, and the sun shone, and it was like a sort of 
 Class Day up in the Pyrenees on Sunday. It is as 
 pretty as a picture. 
 
 There was a great deal grander place which we saw 
 the other day at Gavarnie, where a wild valley pierces 
 into the hills until it brings up against a tremendous 
 wall of rock in a great amphitheatre, and has to stop 
 because it can get no farther. It is like a splendid 
 end of the world. You can only guess what lies on 
 the other side of the rocks, heaven or hell. Really, 
 it is Spain, which is a little of both. Out of the side 
 of the high wall leaps a cascade, 1300 feet high, and 
 tumbles down into a caldron of mist and foam. It 
 is a wonderful place. 
 
 Last Wednesday morning we were at Lourdes^ one of 
 the strangest places in the world, and suggestive of all 
 sorts of thoughts and questions. It was here that al- 
 most thirty years ago a little girl saw the Virgin Mary 
 standing in a grotto, and a spring burst out which 
 since that has been curing hosts of sick people, who 
 have come from the ends of the earth. Now there is 
 a gorgeous church there, crowds of worshipers, a hun- 
 dred thousand pilgrims yearly, and a heap of disused 
 crutches and camp stools, which the cured have left 
 behind them. The street through the town is one 
 long market of crosses, and pictures, and rosaries, and 
 statuettes of Mary. The whole was wonderfully like 
 
312 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 the street which leads down to the Ganges at Benares, 
 with its booths full of brass images of Vishnu, Siva, 
 Ganesha, and Kali. 
 
 To-morrow we shall be off to Toulouse, and then by 
 the Grande Chartreuse to Geneva, where we spend 
 next Sunday. . . . 
 
 Ever affectionately, P. 
 
 Hotel db la Paix, Geneva, 
 
 August 5, 1883. 
 
 Dear William. — Yesterday I received your let- 
 ter of July 23, which gave me the greatest anxiety 
 
 about poor little G . It is very hard indeed that 
 
 she should have had a relapse, and lost something of 
 the hard-won ground. I hate to think how she must 
 have suffered this long winter and spring. My com- 
 fort is, that the news is two weeks old, and before 
 this she must be in Sharon, which is to be the foun- 
 tain of life to her. If I believed all the wonderful 
 stories of what it does, I should send you a bottle of 
 the miraculous water of Lourdes, and we would be 
 grateful worshipers of the Virgin for all the good that 
 it might do the dear little thing. I shall not do that, 
 but I shall be very anxious until, next Sunday at 
 Interlaken, I hear of your reaching Sharon and what 
 are the results. 
 
 Do you remember this hotel, and the forenoon 
 which we spent at Geneva ? It is as bright as ever, 
 and the lake this Sunday morning is shining like a 
 monstrous jewel. Do you remember how we talked 
 about the Grande Chartreuse and the possibility of 
 getting there, but finally concluded that it was too 
 remote and took the train for Basle and Strasburg 
 instead ? We came out of the Pyrenees by Toulouse 
 
GENEVA. 313 
 
 and Nimes, and spent last Friday night up at the 
 Grande Chartreuse. Arthur and Lizzie went there 
 last year. Whether they spent the night or not I do 
 not know. The drive up to the wonderful old nest of 
 the monks is very fine. Most splendid valleys, at first 
 open and broad and bathed in sunshine, and then 
 growing narrower and wilder, until they were nothing 
 but woody gorges ; and finally opening into the little 
 plateau on which the monastery buildings stand and 
 seem to fill the whole place from one mountain side 
 to the other. 
 
 There are about forty fathers there, Carthusians, 
 in their picturesque white cloaks and cowls. Solitude 
 and silence is their rule. They spend the bulk of. the 
 time in their cells, where they are supposed to be med- 
 itating. I suspect that the old gentlemen go to sleep. 
 There was a strange, ghostly service, which began at 
 a quarter before eleven o'clock at night and lasted 
 until two in the morning. The chapel was dim and 
 misty, the white figures came gliding in and sat in a 
 long row, and held dark lanterns up before their psal- 
 ters and chanted away at their psalms like a long row 
 of singing mummies. It made you want to run out in 
 the yard and have a game of ball to break the spell. 
 Instead of that, after watching it for half an hour, we 
 crept back along a vast corridor to the cells which 
 had been allotted us, each with its priedieu and its 
 crucifix, and went to bed in the hardest, shortest, 
 and lumpiest of beds. In the morning a good deal of 
 the romance and awfulness was gone, but it was very 
 fine and interesting, and the drive down into the valley 
 on the other side at Chambery was as pretty as a whole 
 gallery of pictures. Thence we came by rail, and 
 reached here Friday night. 
 
314 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 Yesterday we drove out to Ferney and saw where 
 Voltaire used to live ; looked at the bed in which he 
 used to sleep and at the church which he built. It 
 has over its front door perhaps the strangest of all 
 strange inscriptions which men have carved on 
 churches, — 
 
 "Deo Erexit Voltaire." 
 
 Here we fall into the tide of travel again, and 
 Americans abound. The Suters are all here. I shall 
 preach to them in the American church this morning, 
 and I shall find myself looking for you and your 
 family two pews behind them. Richard Weld and 
 his wife and sons are also here, and a lot of other 
 Americans whom I never saw, but feel as if I had 
 seen every day of my life. . . . Seven weeks from to- 
 day I preach in Trinity. . . . 
 
 MtTRBEN, August 12, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — I went to church this morning 
 in a little thing which the preacher declared to be the 
 most splendidly situated church in Christendom, and 
 I rather think he was right. Do you remember when 
 we were at Interlaken and went over to Grindelwald, 
 how after it stopped raining we climbed up to the 
 Wengern-Alp and looked the Jungfrau in the face ? 
 On the other side of the Lauterbrunnen Valley, into 
 which we descended that day, stands the great hill upon 
 whose top is Miirren. We came here yesterday after- 
 noon, and such a Sunday as this was hardly ever seen. 
 From extreme right to extreme left was one unbroken 
 range of the very highest of snowy peaks, and all day 
 they have been superbly clear. I remember one Sun- 
 day, with a fellow up on the Gornergrat, which rauft 
 
MURREN. 315 
 
 have been about as fine. Finer Sundays than those 
 two, nobody ever had anywhere. 
 
 There are a multitude of English and German 
 people here, but so far as I have learned, R. T. Paine, 
 Jr., and I are the only Americans. The preacher 
 this morning was an old English friend, Dr. Butler, 
 the master of Harrow School, and he is the only person 
 whom I ever saw before. But that is all the better, 
 for one has nothing to do but stare at the hills. I saw 
 the first sunlight strike them at half past four this 
 morning. Besides staring at them, I have been en- 
 gaged to-day in reading my own sermons. Half the 
 proof of the new volume reached me from Macmillan 
 yesterday, and I have read the interesting discourses 
 through to-day. I hope the public will not get so 
 tired of them as I have. 
 
 To-morrow we go down again to Interlaken, then to 
 Lucerne, over that Brunig Pass where you and I drove 
 once in the dust, thence through the new St. Gotthard 
 tunnel to lake Como, and then a journey by a back 
 road through northern Italy, coming out in the Dolo- 
 mites and working back to Paris by Munich. We 
 shall be in Paris about the 5th of September, and six 
 weeks from to-day I preach in Trinity. 
 
 . . . Tell G. I shall expect her to come and make 
 me a visit just as soon as the old house gets to rights 
 again. I will feed her up and get her well, show her 
 all the pretty things I have bought, and give her a lot 
 of the prettiest for her ownty-donty. How I wish you 
 were all here this afternoon, with John, Arthur, and 
 their families. Perhaps we can get up a great as- 
 sembly at Andover next summer. I am hoping for a 
 letter from you to-morrow at Interlaken. I am glad 
 the Andover window is done and is so satisfactory. I 
 am eager to see it. There goes an avalanche. . . . 
 
316 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 MiJRREN, Augiist 13, 1883. 
 
 My dear Lizzie, — I am not quite sure whether I 
 owe you a letter, or you owe me one. I rather think 
 our last letters crossed upon the road, and that always 
 leaves a doubt. I imagine that a good many corre- 
 spondences have died that way. But ours shall not. 
 I will write to you anyhow, and show you that I am 
 not mean. You have been at Miirren, have n't you ? 
 and can anything be finer than this Eiger and Monch 
 and Grosshorn and Breithorn and Mittaghorn ? We 
 have spent two whole days up here, reading novels and 
 staring at the hills. Each morning at haK past four 
 we have seen the first sunlight strike the peaks, and 
 all day the sky has been cloudless. Now we are going 
 to turn our backs upon it and walk down to Lauter- 
 brunnen. Every step now seems a step homeward, 
 for six weeks from yesterday I am going to preach in 
 Trinity again. It will seem strange to stand at that 
 little desk once more. I shall crawl back before 
 the people return to town, and when they come, full 
 of the recollections of the splendors of last winter, 
 they will find only me. But I shall enjoy it if they 
 don't, and then the old life will begin again. There 
 will be some changes, but it is good to know that I 
 shall find you and Arthur just as I left you, only 
 I want to see the new church and enjoy it, as I know 
 I shall. . . . 
 
 . . . And where are you? Koaming along the 
 shores of Grand Menan, or reveling like Sybarites in 
 the luxurious life of " up the river." . . . You will 
 come on to the General Convention and look at us, 
 while we are sitting in the great assembly, will you 
 not ? And on the way there and back, I shall steal 
 quiet evenings for logomachy and talk in the Madi- 
 
TRENTO. 317 
 
 son Avenue hermitage. How nice and familiar it all 
 sounds, and it is almost here. Will you not meet us 
 in Brussels, where we parted, and we will peel off 
 sticky photographs for an evening, and then come home 
 together. My love to Arthur. 
 
 Ever affectionately, P. 
 
 * Trento, Sunday, August 19, 1883. 
 
 Dear Gertie, — I bought the prettiest thing you 
 ever saw for you the other day. If you were to guess 
 for three weeks, making two guesses every minute, you 
 could not guess what it is. I shall not tell you, 
 because I want you to be all surprised to pieces when 
 you see it, and I am so impatient to give it to you 
 that I can hardly wait. Only you must be in a great 
 hurry and get well, because you see it is only five 
 weeks from to-day that I shall expect to see you in the 
 dear old study in Clarendon Street, where we have 
 had such a lot of good times together before now. 
 Just think of it ! We '11 set the music box a-going, 
 and light all the gaslights in the house, and get my 
 doll out of her cupboard, and dress Tood up in a 
 red pocket handkerchief and stand her up on the 
 study table, and make her give three cheers! And 
 we '11 have some gingerbread and lemonade. 
 
 I 've got a lot of things for you besides the one 
 which I bought for you the other day. You could n't 
 guess what it is if you were to guess forever, but this 
 is the best of all, and when you see it you will jump 
 the rheumatism right out of you. I hope you will be 
 quite well by that time. What sort of a place is 
 Sharon ? Do not write to me about it, but tell me all 
 about it when I see you. What a lot you will have 
 to tell. You can tell me what was in that Christ- 
 
318 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 mas letter which the wicked mail-man never brought 
 to me. 
 
 Good-by, dear little girl. Don't you wish you knew 
 what it was that I bought for you the other day? 
 Give my love to Agnes and Tood. 
 
 Your affectionate uncle, P. 
 
 Tbento, August 19, 1883. 
 
 Dear Mary, — I have come to another place which 
 seems to justify a letter to you. Three hundred and 
 twenty-eight years ago, a lot of clergymen climbed up 
 here into the mountains and held the Council of Trent, 
 and fixed forever the Church of Rome. Last night 
 Paine and I arrived here in the train, and are holding 
 our council now in the Hotel de Trento. This morn- 
 ing we went to the old church in which the Council 
 sat, and there we listened to a sermon which we did 
 not understand, looked at a crowded congregation of 
 people (as different from that which meets in Trinity 
 as anybody can imagine), and wondered how the old 
 church looked when the Bisho2:)s and Archbishops 
 were sitting there in council three hundred and 
 twenty-eight years ago. 
 
 Just in front of me was a poor old weather-beaten 
 lady, who went fast asleep in the sermon time and 
 woke up beautifully refreshed when it was over. I 
 rather think the sleep did her more good than the 
 sermon would have done, for she looked as if she had 
 been overworked ever since she was a baby, and that 
 was long ago. On the walls hung a picture of the 
 Council, and after service we went off to the other 
 church, where is the crucifix before which all the 
 Tridentine Fathers, when their long work was over, 
 said their prayers. How modern it makes out 
 
INNSBRUCK. 319 
 
 General Convention of this autumn look, and yet it is 
 the modern things that are of more interest to us than 
 all the old ones ; and more important to me to-day, 
 a great deal, than the Council of Trent is poor little 
 G.'s chamber at Sharon. I wonder whether, in the 
 two weeks since she went there, the waters have done 
 her good. I cannot tell you how anxious I am, or 
 how, getting the news only once a week, I wait in 
 suspense to hear what the blue envelopes will bring 
 which the Barings send to meet us. If I were at 
 home, I would take the train to Sharon and see what 
 sort of a nurse I should make for the dear little wo- 
 man. At least I could know how it fared with her, 
 and perhaps you would not mind having me about, 
 and if I were very much in the way I could go out 
 and smoke my cigar behind the house. But it is not 
 long now. Five weeks from to-day I shall be in the 
 old place again. I will not think of anything else 
 than that then you will be back from Sharon, with G. 
 vastly better for it, and the new house as lively as a 
 summer's day. And then what a winter we will have. 
 There goes the church-bell again ! They are going 
 to have another meeting in the Council church, but I 
 shall stay at home and write my letters. To-morrow 
 morning a carriage will start with us for a three days' 
 drive through the glorious Dolomites, and next Sunday 
 I shall hear at Wildbad-Gastein how you all are. . . . 
 
 Tyboleb Hof, Innsbruck, 
 
 August 26, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — ... We ordered letters sent 
 to Bad Gastein, but when we reached Innsbruck (you 
 remember Innsbruck) we found there was to be to-day 
 a Passion Play at Brixlegg, a little village only an 
 
320 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 hour from here, and we determined to stop over. We 
 have spent the whole Sunday there, and it has been a 
 wonderfully interesting day. Thirteen years ago I 
 started for Ober-Ammergau, and the Franco-Prussian 
 war stopped the play before I reached there. This 
 Brixlegg play is Ober-Ammergau on a small scale and 
 in rather a more primitive fashion. The whole story 
 of Christ's Passion, from the Entry into Jerusalem to 
 the Resurrection, is acted by the peasants in the most 
 devout fashion, and with a power and feeling that are 
 very wonderful. It occupies about five hours, with 
 an intermission of an hour and a haK in the midst. It 
 is given in a rude barn-like building, set up for the 
 purpose, with curious quaint scenery, and most effec- 
 tive tableaux. It is a good thing to see once, for 
 it is a rare remnant of what was common in the 
 Middle Ages, and furnishes a remarkable study of 
 the character of the people to whom such a thing is 
 a possibility. . . . 
 
 I will tell you all about this when I get home, if you 
 want to hear. Innsbruck looks just as it did when 
 you and I drove out of it five years ago on the way 
 to the Stelvio. The big moimtain still throws its 
 shadow down the Theresien Strasse, and the wonderful 
 bronze people stand around Maximilian's tomb in the 
 Hof Kirche. But only think. The railway runs all 
 the way to Imst, and the steam whistle has vulgarized 
 the lovely valley. Are you not glad we went there 
 first ? Perhaps it has improved the Imst Hotel ! 
 
 This last week I thought of you at the first sight of 
 the Inn Valley, but up to that time we were in the 
 Dolomites, where the associations were rather with 
 Arthur, who traveled there with me in the early days, 
 before you and I were fellow-travelers. 
 
INNSBRUCK, 321 
 
 To-morrow we are off for Bad Gastein, and then 
 come Ischl, Salzburg, and next Sunday, Munich ; then, 
 Paris and London. Two weeks from next Wednes- 
 day we set sail. So I shall send you only one more 
 letter. But I shall hear from you, and I will thank 
 you ever so much if you telegraph me just one word 
 to the Cephalonia at Queenstown upon the 12th. Four 
 weeks from tonight, perhaps we shall be smoking to- 
 gether in the rectory. . . . 
 
 Innsbruck, August 26, 1883. 
 
 Dear Gertie, — How I envy the little Tyrolese 
 girls their health and strength to-day ! I wanted to steal 
 half of it, and send it home in a box to you. They 
 never would have missed it, for they have a great deal 
 more health than they know what to do with. Their 
 cheeks are as red as the sunset, and they look as if 
 they never heard of such a thing as rheumatism ! But 
 never mind, I am coming home soon now, and you 
 will forget all about this ugly winter. 
 
 I have been seeing the people in a little village to- 
 day act a part of the New Testament story. A lot of 
 the children took part in it, and I send you a photo- 
 graph of one of them, a little girl who walked in the 
 procession which came with Jesus into Jerusalem on 
 Palm Sunday. She was a cunning little thing, and 
 carried her palm branch as you see, and cried, " Ho- 
 sanna ! " as she walked along. I wish you had been 
 there to see her. 
 
 Was it not funny that I should hear about you on 
 the street at Innsbruck ? You see how famous you are 
 and how people know about you all over the world. 
 The person who knew about you here was Miss Wales, 
 who came out of a shop last Friday afternoon just as 
 
322 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 we were going in. She looked just like a slice out of 
 old Boston, and she had some letters from home about 
 your visit to Sharon, or perhaps she saw it in the 
 papers ! 
 
 I wonder if you will be back when I get home, and 
 I wonder if you will be glad to see me ! I got you an- 
 other present the other day, but you could n't guess 
 what that is either. Good-by ! Get well ! And give 
 my love to Agnes and Tood. I think of you a great 
 deal. Your affectionate uncle, P. 
 
 Munich, September 2, 1883. 
 
 Dear Gertie — When I came away, the first man 
 that wrote me a letter only two days after the Servia 
 had steamed out of New York Bay was you. And now 
 that I am coming home, the last letter which I write 
 from the Old World to any man in America shall be 
 to you. For I want to tell you myself that I shall see 
 you on September 22. I suppose you will not be quite 
 able to run over to the wharf at East Boston when 
 the Cephalonia gets in, but I shall come up to see 
 you just as soon as the custom house people let me out 
 of prison, after I have paid the duties upon all the 
 heaps of presents I have got for you ! 
 
 Was n't it good that the baths at Sharon helped you 
 so much ? I was at a place the other day where the 
 people take baths for rheumatism. It is called Bad 
 Gastein, but it is n't bad at all ; it is very good. It is 
 away back in the hills, and there 's a tremendous water- 
 fall which runs right through the house, and keeps up 
 such a racket that you can't get any sleep. But that 
 does no great harm, because you have to take your 
 bath so early that, if it were not for the waterfall in 
 the next room, you would sleep over and never get 
 
MUNICH. 323 
 
 your bath at all, and so some time you might have the 
 rheumatism all your life. I didn't have any rheu- 
 matism, so I went and took a bath for yours, and I 
 rather think that is what made you feel so much 
 better. You thought it was the baths you were tak- 
 ing at Sharon, but it was really the bath I was taking 
 at Bad Gastein ! 
 
 I wonder how soon you will come and see me when 
 I get back. Everybody here eats his breakfast, and 
 luncheon, and dinner outdoors. I like it, and think 
 I shall do so myself when I get home ; so when you 
 come to breakfast, we will have our table out on the 
 grass plot in Newbury Street, and Katie shall bring 
 us our beefsteak there. Will it not make the children 
 stare as they go by to school ? We '11 toss the crumbs 
 to them and the robins. But you must hurry and get 
 well, or we cannot do all this. My love to Agnes and 
 Tood. Your affectionate uncle, P. 
 
 Hotel Baierischeb Hof, Munich, 
 September 2, 1883. 
 
 Dear William, — ... This last day of home writ- 
 ing makes me feel queer. I wonder whether it is really 
 true that three weeks from to-day I am to preach in 
 Trinity. I wonder whether I shall really look so old 
 and thin that people will not know me. I wonder 
 whether those heathen are still chattering and chaffer- 
 ing in the Chandni-Chauk at Delhi. I wonder whether 
 I have really got enough benefit out of all this pleas- 
 ant year to make it worth while to have come. This 
 last wonder is the hardest of all. Sometimes I think 
 I have, and then again I do not know. At any rate I 
 shall try, and if I find when I begin to preach that 
 I am really q,s idiotic as I sometimes seem to myself, 
 
324 A YEAR IN EUROPE AND INDIA. 
 
 there are several little hidden nooks in Europe which 
 I know, where I can go and hide my disgrace, and 
 nobody will hear of me any more forever. But per- 
 haps it will not come to that. . . . 
 
 Why cannot you make use of my house this autumn, 
 until your own is thoroughly dry and safe ? Pray do 
 not think of going into it. You must not let G. run 
 the slightest danger of a relapse. Nothing would give 
 me greater pleasure than to find you all in Clarendon 
 Street. On my return, on the 2d of October, I go 
 to Philadelphia ; shall practically be absent all that 
 month, and you can have free swing. So pray do go 
 there, and please me. 
 
 You remember this hotel and the bright, pretty 
 city. . . . But what 's the use of writing, when I shall 
 be at home a week after you get this. My last letter. 
 Hurrah ! Hurrah ! My final love ; I am coming 
 home. 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 
 
 1885. 
 
 Steamship Etrukia, May 15, 1885. 
 
 My dear Gertie, — This letter will show you that 
 I have got safely over to Queenstown. The people 
 are just finishing their breakfasts in the cabin, that is, 
 the lazy ones who have come up late from their state- 
 rooms. 
 
 I had my breakfast two hours ago, and have been 
 walking up and down the deck since then. There are 
 a lot of people up there, among them a good many 
 children. Some very nice-looking boys ! Everybody 
 seems to have had a pleasant voyage. There has been 
 no storm, and most of the time the water has been as 
 quiet as a bath tub. On Sunday it was a little rough. 
 The Doctor read service, and we had no sermon, be- 
 cause the people wanted to get on deck again. 
 
 I received the letter which you all wrote to me. I 
 found it on the table in the cabin, just after the 
 steamer sailed. It was very good of you to write, and 
 it made a very pleasant last good-by, after uncle 
 Arthur had left me on deck, and I thought I should 
 not see or hear from anybody I knew, at least for a 
 whole week. 
 
 ... I wish you were here ! We would go to walk 
 on the deck and see the people play shuffleboard, then 
 we would find a quiet place behind the smokestack 
 and sit down and smoke. I suppose you are getting 
 
326 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 
 
 ready to go up to North Andover. Do take good care 
 of " Tom," and do not let the pony bully him. . . . 
 When you get this, think of me in London having a 
 beautiful time . . . Ever and ever 
 
 Your affectionate uncle, P. 
 
 Westminster PAiiACE Hotel, London, 
 
 May 21, 1885. 
 
 Dear William, — Here it is, begun all over again 
 in the old fashion. The old hotel, the same dingy 
 outlook from the windows, and the same chimes from 
 the Abbey bells every quarter of an hour ! We 
 reached here yesterday afternoon at the end of our 
 fourth day on shore. The voyage was very swift, 
 pleasant, and uneventful. The Etruria is a superb 
 ship, rather inclined to roll, when there seems to be no 
 reason for it, but going through the water at a tre- 
 mendous rate. . . . The only celebrity on board was 
 Mr. Froude, who kept very much to his stateroom and 
 was hardly seen. I am afraid the great historian was 
 ill. We landed on Sunday morning at Liverpool, and 
 I went to church, and saw and heard Bishop Ryle. 
 Monday we spent in Chester, and went out to the 
 Duke of Westminster's place, Eaton Hall, and also 
 to Mr. Gladstone's Hawarden Castle. Neither of the 
 great men was at home, but we looked at their houses. 
 . . . Then we came on to Leamington, and saw War- 
 wick Castle, Kenilworth, and Stratford-on-Avon, and 
 then here. 
 
 I saw Archdeacon Farrar yesterday afternoon, and 
 found him well. I am to dine with him on Saturday 
 to meet Browning and Lowell and Arnold, and the 
 new Bishop of London, Dr. Temple. I saw my god- 
 son, who is staying with his grandfather, in the absence 
 
LONDON. 327 
 
 of his parents from London for a few days. He is a 
 round, fat, English baby. 
 
 Friday Morning, May 22. 
 
 Yesterday was a busy London day, and I did not 
 finish my letter. Now it shall go to tell you that I 
 am well and happy. Think of me on the 31st of May 
 at Oxford; on the 7th of June at Harrow in the 
 morning, and in Westminster Abbey in the evening ; 
 on the 14th of June at Cambridge. I will think 
 of you all getting ready for North Andover, and 
 by and by going there, and having, I hope, a lovely 
 summer. Already I am beginning to think how good 
 next summer will be when we are all there together, 
 and " Tom " has grown to his maturity, and the old 
 place has really come to look and feel as if it had be- 
 gun a new life for our generation. . . . 
 
 I have not heard from you yet, though I got two 
 letters forwarded by you and mailed the day we sailed. 
 Not a bit of excitement here, apparently, about war or 
 cholera, but both subjects quietly and very seriously 
 talked about. Good-by, and my best love to all of 
 you. May you be kept safe and happy. 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 Westmtnstbr Palace Hotel, London, 
 
 May 29, 1885. 
 
 Dear Gertie, — I received your note and Toodie's 
 early this week, and to-night comes your father's to 
 tell me that you were thinking of me as late as the 
 15th of May. I believe you are thinking of me still. 
 Certainly I am thinking of you, and hoping you are 
 aU well and doing all sorts of delightful things. It 
 
328 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 
 
 does not seem as if it could be only three weeks this 
 morning that I said good-by to you and took the train 
 for New York. But it is, and I have been in Lon- 
 don now more than a week. What have I done? 
 Let me see. Last Sunday morning I preached at St. 
 Margaret's in the forenoon ; in the afternoon went to 
 St. Paul's Cathedral, and heard Canon Scott HoUand. 
 . . . Monday we went to Windsor Castle, but it was 
 rainy, and besides that it was " Bank Holiday," so 
 there was a tremendous crowd, and we did not see 
 very much. Tuesday I went down to the Bishop of 
 Rochester's and spent the night, and it was very pleas- 
 ant. He has a great big house and park, and every- 
 thing very complete and pretty. It was a lovely day, 
 the hawthorns were just blooming, and the grass and 
 old trees were lovely. . . . 
 
 On Wednesday I went to a big dinner-party, and I 
 had a very good time. Thursday I went down to the 
 country and spent the day with some nice people who 
 live in an old manor house, in a place called Chig- 
 well. There is a school-house there where William 
 Penn used to go to school, before he founded Penn- 
 sylvania, and there are many other interesting things. 
 To-day we have had a long drive to Hampton Court, 
 Richmond, and Kew, and seen no end of queer and 
 delightful sights ; and now to-night I am writing to 
 you, so you see I am very busy. To-morrow I go to 
 Oxford, where I spend three days, seeing the univer- 
 sity and looking at all the great men. It has been 
 cold and bleak, but now the weather is getting bright 
 and warm, and the country is prettier than anything 
 you ever saw, except North Andover. 
 
 I have not seen Nora Buchanan, but I saw her mo- 
 ther, the other day. Nora had gone to school, and 
 
LONDON. 329 
 
 was very well. I wonder when you are going to 
 North Andover. You must tell me when you write 
 again, so that I can think of your getting settled and 
 feel what a good time you are having. Remember 
 that the corn-barn belongs to you, and you must be 
 the mistress there. But do let S. and A. come in 
 when they want to. Give them my love, and also to 
 your father and mother. Do not forget that I am 
 Your affectionate uncle, P. 
 
 London, June 5, 1885. 
 
 Dear William, — ... Saturday I went to Ox- 
 ford and stayed at the Yice-Chancellor's, Dr. Jow- 
 ett's. Other people were staying there, and it was 
 very bright and pleasant. On Sunday afternoon I 
 preached the university sermon in St. Mary's Church. 
 . . . The service was at two o'clock, an hour when I 
 think nobody ever went to church before. Four men 
 came to the Yice-Chancellor's house, and Dr. Jowett 
 and I fell in behind them, and they escorted us along 
 the street as far as the church. When we reached the 
 church, another man took us in charge and brought us 
 to the foot of the pulpit stairs, where the Yice-Chan- 
 cellor and I solemnly bowed to one another, and he 
 went up into his throne and I went up into the pulpit. 
 Then I preached. ... I spent the next two days in 
 Oxford, and had a lovely time, going to all sorts of 
 meetings, dining with the dons, seeing the men I 
 wanted most to see, being rowed on the river, and all 
 that. The weather was lovely ; you cannot think how 
 beautiful the place looked. . . . 
 
 Your brother, P. 
 
330 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 
 
 Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
 June 12, 1885. 
 
 Dear Gertie, — ... I have been running up 
 and down this big world of London and seeing a lot 
 of people, and every now and then going off into the 
 country, which is wonderfully pretty now, with haw- 
 thorn and lilacs and laburnums all in bloom. 
 
 Last Sunday I went out to Harrow, where there is 
 a great school, and there I preached to five hundred 
 boys. How A. would like to go there, would n't she ? 
 In the afternoon I came back into town, and preached 
 in Westminster Abbey to a host of people. The 
 great place looked splendid, and it was fine to preach 
 there. Yesterday I went twenty miles into the coun- 
 try, and preached at an ordination of forty new min- 
 isters. The fields were bright with daisies, and I won- 
 dered how North Andover was looking. You must 
 be just packing up to go there now. Even with all 
 the beauty of England, it makes me quite homesick 
 when I think about it. You must tell me all about 
 the removal there, and how you get settled, and how 
 your corn-barn looks, and what new things you find 
 to do in the old place ; and you must have it all ready 
 for me on September 12, when I mean to come up 
 early in the morning and spend the whole solid week 
 quietly there. That will be just three months from 
 to-day. . . . 
 
 I go to Cambridge for next Sunday, and then to 
 Oxford for Commemoration and my degree. Good- 
 by ; my best of love to all and you. 
 
 Affectionately, Uncle P. 
 
LONDON. 331 
 
 Westminster Palace HoTEii, London, 
 June 18, 1885. 
 
 My dear Tood, — You certainly deserve a letter, 
 for your letters to me have been delightful and have 
 made me very happy. I am sorry you have given up 
 the poetry, because it was very interesting and amus- 
 ing. Perhaps now that the strain of school is over, 
 and you are among the sweet sights and sounds and 
 smells of North Andover, you will drop into verse 
 again. I shall be glad to hear you sing once more. 
 Write me a poem about " Tom." 
 
 I am having a beautiful time, and I wish you all were 
 here. If you were, I would get a big carriage this 
 morning, and we would all go driving about London 
 and out into Hyde Park, and perhaps far away into 
 the country. We would see the rhododendrons, which 
 are in full bloom now, and we would wish that the 
 grass on the lawn in North Andover could be made 
 to look haK as soft and green as the grass on these 
 beautiful English fields. 
 
 I have just come back from Oxford. You should 
 have seen me yesterday walking about the streets in 
 my Doctor's gown. It was a red gown with black 
 sleeves, and is awfully pretty. It was only hired for 
 the occasion, for it costs ever so much money, and I 
 did not care to buy one. So you will never see how 
 splendid I looked in it, for I shall never have it on 
 again. . . . 
 
 Affectionately your Uncle P. 
 
 Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
 June 19, 1885. 
 
 Dear William, — I hope you are well and happy, 
 and I wish very much that I could see you all to-day. 
 
332 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 
 
 You must be safe at Andover long before this, and 1 
 know how pretty it must be looking. I shall get a 
 bit of it at the end of the season. It seems to be 
 settled now that Archdeacon Farrar and his two 
 friends will come with me on the Pavonia, September 
 2. I hope we shall arrive in Boston on Saturday, the 
 12th. Then we shall spend Sunday in Boston at the 
 Brunswick. Monday I shall go with them as far as 
 the White Mountains on their way to Canada, and 
 then about Wednesday come back on the Boston & 
 Maine Railroad to Andover. How I wish you could 
 put off your vacation till then, and go with us to the 
 mountains, and have a leisure week at Andover after 
 our return. Think of it and try and do so. Tell 
 M. how delightful it wiU be if she can join us for 
 the mountains. We need stay there but a day or two, 
 visiting merely Crawford's and the Glen. 
 
 I have had a busy and delightful week. Saturday 
 afternoon I went to Cambridge, getting there just in 
 time for the boat races, which were very picturesque 
 and pretty. After that came a supper at Professor 
 Jebb's, with lots of dons and professors. Sunday I 
 spent at the Vice-Chancellor's, Dr. Ferrers' at the 
 Lodge in Caius College. At two o'clock I preached the 
 university sermon in Great St. Mary's to a big and 
 imposing congregation. It was the Tolerance lecture 
 which you heard in Cambridge, and it went off very 
 well. Monday I roamed about among the beautiful 
 colleges, lunched with an undergraduate, who had a 
 pleasant party, and went to a big dinner party at the 
 Jebbs'. Tuesday morning I went to Oxford, a slow 
 four hours' ride, took lunch at Dr. Jowett's with some 
 great university folks, and then went to the public 
 theatre, where we had our D. D. degrees conferred on 
 
LONDON. 333 
 
 us with queer ceremonies. I send you some papers 
 which tell about it. The next day, Wednesday, was 
 the great Commemoration Day, with the conferring of 
 the D. C. L. degrees, and a college luncheon and a 
 brilliant garden party in the afternoon. Then I came 
 back to London, and last night went to a dinner 
 given in honor of the Precentor of the Abbey. To- 
 night I dine with Mr. Bryce, whom you remember at 
 our Matthew Arnold dinner of last winter. So it goes 
 all the time ; but after two weeks more it will be over. 
 On the 3d of July we go on to the Continent, and 
 life will be quieter, or at least it will have a differ- 
 ent sort of bustle. 
 
 ... I have not been anywhere, except in London 
 and at the universities, during all this visit. The 
 papers tell us it is very hot with you. Here it is cool 
 and pleasant. The crisis and change of government 
 of course keeps everything excited. Gladstone goes 
 out with honor, having saved the world a war. My 
 kind love to all. 
 
 Ever affectionately, P. 
 
 Westminstbb Palace Hotel, London, 
 June 25, 1885. 
 
 Dear Mary, — ... I love to think of you all at 
 North Andover, and to look forward to the time when 
 I shall be with you. The plan of which I wrote last 
 week has fallen through. Archdeacon Farrar and his 
 friends have made up their minds that they must sail 
 direct for Canada, and so I shall come alone in the 
 Pavonia, and the White Mountain trip will not take 
 place. I shall come to North Andover on Monday 
 morning, the 14th of September, and stay there 
 quietly as long as I can. Archdeacon Farrar's party 
 wiU not reach Boston until the fii'st of November. 
 
334 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 
 
 Everything here has been delightful. People have 
 been very kind, and invitations flow in in far greater 
 numb(3rs tiian I can accept. It has been very interest- 
 ing to be here during the political crisis and see the 
 English people change their government. Right in 
 the thick of it I met Mr. Gladstone at dinner at Mr. 
 Bryce's, and he was full of spirits and as merry as a 
 boy. Our new minister, Mr. Phelps, was there, and 
 Senator Edmunds, and it was very interesting to see 
 the English and American statesmen meet. 
 
 I was invited by Lord Aberdeen to go to his country 
 place and spend Sunday with Mr. Gladstone, but I 
 had promised to preach here and coidd not go. I was 
 very sorry, for it would have been a capital chance 
 to see the great man familiarly. 
 
 I am just back from Lincoln, where I have spent 
 the day and preached this afternoon in the magnificent 
 cathedral. On Saturday I go to Salisbury to stay 
 with the Dean, and preach in that cathedral on Sunday. 
 Monday I come back to town, and dine on Tuesday 
 with the Archbishop of Canterbury at Lambeth Pal- 
 ace. Wednesday I start off to meet the Paines, 
 who have been absent for two weeks in Scotland, and 
 we shall travel together somewhere for a week ; then 
 back to London and off together to the Continent, 
 about the time you get this note. 
 
 We have had hardly any heat, and to-day is as cold 
 as March, but the country is looking glorious, and 
 the town is as gay as Marlborough Street in February. 
 
 What are you all doing ? And how does the old house 
 look with its green grass and yellow hitching-post ? 
 Is Tom still alive after his hard winter's experience? 
 How I wish I could look in on you to-night. It is 
 most midnight here, but you are just about fmishing 
 
riNTERN. 335 
 
 supper and sitting down to logomachy. I have not 
 seen the blessed game since we played it in Clarendon 
 Street the night before I left. You must thank 
 Agnes and Susie for their last letters. The New 
 York trip must have been a great event. Yesterday I 
 thought about Commencement and wished I was there. 
 I hope Arthur was with you. Good-night. . . . 
 
 Ever and ever affectionately, P. 
 
 TmTERN, July 2, 1885. 
 
 Dear William, — A happy new year to you, and 
 a gTcat many more of them for years to come. You 
 have had a good time for the last fifty-one years, and 
 I am sure you have helped other people (such as I) 
 to have a great many good times all along. Now you 
 are just in the prime of life, with ever so many happy 
 years before you, and I congratulate you on both past 
 and future, and send you the heartiest, happy new 
 year across the water. 
 
 One week more is gone, and now that I have heard 
 from you at North Andover, I feel as if I had really 
 got hold of your summer. The children's letters from 
 there made it seem very real and near. . . . The pony 
 seems to be a principal character in the household, 
 and I am rejoiced that Tom has recovered from the 
 trials and humiliations of the winter. 
 
 ... I spent last Sunday at Salisbury, where I had 
 a delightful day and preached in the cathedral, which 
 is now thoroughly restored, and looks a great deal bet- 
 ter than it did when you and I saw it filled with 
 scaffolding. I stayed with the Dean, and saw some 
 very pleasant people. Then I came back to London, 
 and had two more days there, and on Wednesday 
 came off for this little western tour. When you get 
 
336 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 
 
 this the Channel will have been crossed and the jabber 
 of foreign tongues will be about us. The weather is 
 delightful and all goes charmingly. . . . 
 
 Bonn, July 11, 1885. 
 
 Dear Gertie, — It is a very lovely morning on 
 the Rhine. I am afraid that it will be hot by and by, 
 when the steamboat comes along and we start to go up 
 the river ; but at present, before breakfast, it is very 
 lovely. There is a pretty village with trees and a 
 church tower just across the river, and the little boats 
 keep coming and going, and the children on the bank, 
 in front of the hotel, are playing like kittens, and 
 everything is as bright and sunshiny as if there was n't 
 such a thing as trouble in the world. Speaking of 
 kittens, I wonder if you have found the little thing 
 that used to hide away in the barn, and that the boy 
 could n't catch for a quarter of a dollar. But perhaps 
 she has grown to be a big cat, and is n't worth the 
 catching now, which is the way with a good many 
 people. When you want them you cannot get them, 
 and when you get them you don't want them. 
 
 A man has just come and set up a stand in the 
 square under my window to sell cherries, and the 
 children are looking at them hard, and no doubt wish- 
 ing that they had two cents. I would give them two 
 dollars apiece all around if I could talk German as 
 well as they can. And so we all want something which 
 we have not got. I wonder what you want. If it 's 
 anything in Europe, write a letter and tell me the 
 name of it instantly, and I will get it for you. . . . 
 
 We left London on Thursday morning, and I shali 
 not see it again till the 1st of August, when I shall go 
 there to get my playthings together before I sail in 
 
SALZBURG. 337 
 
 the Pavonia on the 3d. I have had a very beautiful 
 time there, but now I am glad to be traveling again 
 and on my way to the great mountains. I wish you 
 were with me and were here this morning. I would 
 give you some cherries. 
 
 I long to see the pony. Next year I think we must 
 have one of our own, or would you like a donkey bet- 
 ter, for which G. B. advertised? We must consult 
 Tood about it. My best of love to you all and to 
 "Tom." Goodby. Your uncle, P. 
 
 Salzburg, July 15, 1885. 
 
 Dear William, — When I reached here yester- 
 day, I found a group of delightful letters from North 
 Andover, which had the flavor of the old place about 
 them. I think about you now as settled there, with 
 the Jack-o'-lanterns burning on the garden wall. . . . 
 
 I have left England after a most delightful visit. 
 It was full of interesting occurrences, and I shall look 
 back upon it with the greatest pleasure. Now we are 
 on our way southward, and after a drive through the 
 Tyrol, we shall probably bring up for a few days in 
 Venice ; then back to Switzerland, where we shall 
 have about three weeks. Seven weeks from this after- 
 noon I shall be afloat, headed for Queenstown and 
 Boston. All goes beautifully. The weather is delight- 
 ful, and the scenery, pictures, and cathedrals are the 
 same splendid things that they have been for the last 
 twenty years and many years before. TeU G. to keep 
 as right as she can till the 11th of September, and 
 after that I will look after her; and thank S. for 
 her account of the corn-barn banquet, which made my 
 mouth water very miich indeed. 
 
 . . . The programme for the Church Congress in the 
 
338 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 
 
 autumn, which you inclosed in your letter, really 
 made one believe that there was to be a new campaign 
 begun by and by, but it seems very far off now. 
 Still, I think we wiU not carry out our little plan of 
 retiring from active life this autumn. Let us wait 
 another year. . . . 
 
 Ever affectionately, P. 
 
 Hotel Danieli, Venice, 
 July 24, 1885. 
 
 My dear Mary, — . . . How pretty it must be 
 with you this afternoon ; not half as hot as Venice, I 
 am sure. But every now and then a breeze comes 
 floating from the water, and there are gondolas skim- 
 ming by, the beautiful St. Giorgio rises opposite out 
 of the sea, and the bells are lazily ringing for two 
 o'clock, which is the time when the pigeons come to 
 be fed in the Piazza of St. Mark. It is all very soft, 
 and lazy, and beautiful, and the letter which I re- 
 ceived the other day from Mr. Allen, about things at 
 Trinity, sounded far away. . . . 
 
 I wish you could see it all. The Queen is here, and 
 every evening the young prince comes out on the Grand 
 Canal, and hosts of gondolas are there with lamps and 
 lanterns. Every now and then a company of singers 
 in a gondola goes floating by, the fine band plays in the 
 Royal Gardens, the people shout, " Viva Regina Mar- 
 gherita " under the royal windows, the ices of the cafes 
 are really most delicious, and San Marco looks down 
 upon it all in the moonlight and seems to smile. In 
 the mornings, there are great cool galleries full of glo- 
 rious pictures, and quiet back streets where the people 
 lounge in the doorways and chatter round the fountains. 
 Oh, it is very delightful, and I wish with all my heart 
 that you aU were here, so I do. . . . 
 
WENGERN-ALP. 339 
 
 Bellagio, July 30, 1885. 
 
 My dear Gertie, — It is a beautiful warm morn- 
 ing on the lake of Como, so warm that one does not 
 feel like doing anything but sitting still and writing a 
 lazy letter to a dear little girl in America. The water, 
 as I look out of the window, is a delicious blue, and 
 the sweet green hills on the other side of the lake are 
 sound asleep in the sunlight, which they like. There 
 is a garden of palm-trees and oleanders right under 
 my window, and the oleanders are all in gorgeous 
 bloom. A boatman is waiting at the marble steps, in 
 case any one wants his boat ; but I think he hopes 
 that nobody will want it, for it must be awfully hot 
 rowing upon the lake. This afternoon, when it gets 
 cooler, I shall change all this and start up to the moun- 
 tains, and by to-morrow night I shall be at St. Moritz, 
 among the glaciers and snow-banks. But wherever I 
 am, I am thinking how very pleasant it must be in the 
 old house, and what a good time we will have when I 
 get back there six weeks from next Monday afternoon. 
 We will not make any plans for excursions, but just 
 stay quiet on the big piazza, and now and then, when 
 we feel very energetic, make a long trip to the corn- 
 barn. Everybody must come and see us ; we will not 
 go to see anybody. . . . 
 
 Your affectionate uncle, P. 
 
 Wengern-Alp, August 12, 1885. 
 
 Dear William, — ... A letter from the Weng- 
 ern-Alp must go to you, for the view which is before me 
 as I write brings back most vividly the day we climbed 
 from Grindenwald, and sat and looked at the white 
 beauty for an hour before we scrambled down to Lauter- 
 brunnen and went on our way to Thun. I came up 
 
340 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 
 
 the same way yesterday afternoon, on a better horse 
 than I had the day I was with you, and reached here 
 just in time to see the evening light. This morning 
 the sunrise was delightful, and now, as I write, I can 
 see the glorious Jungfrau with its splendid snow ; and 
 the avalanches keep thundering all the time, and send- 
 ing up their clouds of icy dust. I wish you were here ! 
 
 . , . What terribly hot days you must have had ! 
 One of the great discoveries of the future will be 
 how to deal with the temperature of the world, and 
 cool a whole city as you cool a refrigerator, or warm a 
 continent as you warm a house. 
 
 It seems as if the Americans were at home this 
 smnmer, for I have seen hardly any. Dr. Osgood and 
 his family and Mrs. Copley Green and her children 
 were at Lucerne, and I went to see them at the Eng- 
 lisher Hof , after service at that English church where 
 we went, you remember, one Sunday in 1877. Three 
 weeks from to-day I sail ; then, in ten days, I shall see 
 you all. Affectionately, P. 
 
 Chamounix, Augnst 19, 1885. 
 
 Dear Gertie, — Mont Blanc has put his head 
 under a cloud, and there is nothing to be seen outside 
 except a lot of guides and porters waiting for the 
 diligence to come from Geneva. So before the dinner 
 bell rings, I will send off my week's letter, and it shall 
 be to you. Tell Tood that the next week's, which will 
 be the last that I shall write, shall be to her, for she 
 has been a good little girl and written me beautiful 
 letters all summer. So have you. I got your letter 
 here last night with the picture of the bird house in 
 the garden on the side of the paper. After you get 
 this letter, remember that you are not to do a single 
 
PARIS. 841 
 
 thing exciting until I get home, so that you will be all 
 fresh and strong to play with me. . . . Only two 
 weeks from to-day! Just think of it! Two weeks 
 from now the beautiful Pavonia will be steaming 
 away down the Channel, bound for North Andover, 
 and three weeks from next Sunday I shall stand up in 
 Trinity again. 
 
 You cannot think how splendid, the great mountain 
 was last night. The sky was perfectly clear and the 
 moon was glorious, and the big round dome of snow 
 shone like another world. The people stood and gazed 
 at it and looked solemn. This morning it had 
 changed, but was no less beautiful. It was like a 
 great mass of silver. And so it stands there and 
 changes from one sort of beauty to another, year after 
 year, and age after age. 
 
 I think you must have a beautiful time this sum- 
 mer with the pony, and next year we must try 
 to have one of our own. Make up your mind what 
 kind and color he shall be, and we will look about and 
 see what we can find when I get home. It must be 
 a great sight to see Tood driving all by her blessed 
 self, and all the fast horses on the road getting out of 
 the way for fear she will run over them. . . . Perhaps 
 you and she can drive me out to Cambridge, mornings 
 in November, in the pony-cart. I wonder if I shall 
 go there this year, and whether you will go with me. 
 Good-by now. Affectionately, your uncle, P. 
 
 Grand Hotel, Paris, August 27, 1885. 
 
 My dear Tood, — It really begins to look as if I 
 were actually coming home, for you see the Pavonia 
 arrived yesterday at Liverpool, and she will stay there 
 until next Wednesday, and then she expects me to go 
 
342 ENGLAND AND EUROPE. 
 
 back in her. It seems very likely, therefore, that two 
 weeks from day after to-morrow, I shall come ashore in 
 Boston ; then I shall see you and have the chance to 
 thank you for all your pleasant letters, which it has 
 been a very great delight to get, and which have very 
 much relieved the weariness and troubles of my 
 journey. I think that you are one of the very best 
 letter writers for your time of life that I know, and 
 when you drop into poetry it is beautiful. So I will 
 thank you when I get home, and we will sit in the 
 shadow of the corn-barn and talk it all over. 
 
 Paris is very bright and gay and pretty. Yester- 
 day I went out to the Jardin d'Acclimatation (say that 
 if you can), and the monkeys were awfully funny. 
 How would it do to get three monkeys for North 
 Andover, and tie them to a post in the side yard and 
 see them play and fight ? How would Tom like it ? 
 And do you think it would please Johnny, or would 
 he only think they were some more Brooks children ? 
 I am afraid you have not seen much of Johnny this 
 year. That is not wise. For he is a very brilliant 
 little boy, and it would be a great advantage to you 
 and A. if you talked with him. . . . 
 
 Your affectionate uncle, P. 
 
ACROSS THE CONTINENT TO SAN 
 FRANCISCO. 
 
 1886. 
 
 Victoria Hotel, Alamosa, Colorado, 
 May 6, 1886. 
 
 Dear William, — This is the first letter of the 
 great journey, written in the midst of the tumult 
 of Raymond tourists and cow-boys, who fill the office 
 of this beautiful hotel, while we are waiting for our 
 dinner. We are on the crest of the continent, a good 
 six thousand feet above the sea, with Pike's Peak and 
 a host of other snow-peaked giants of the Rocky 
 Mountains in full view, and the queerest shanty-town 
 to stay in that you ever saw. But what a day it is ! 
 Such atmosphere, sunshine, and great outlooks in 
 every direction ! To-day we have been up to the 
 Toltec Gorge, riding through endless plains of sage 
 grass, with queer little prairie dogs sitting, each of 
 them, on the edge of his hole to see us pass. The 
 Gorge is very fine and picturesque, not up to Switzer- 
 land, but with a bigger feeling about it, and altogether 
 mighty good to look at. 
 
 ... A very pleasant journey brought me to Chicago 
 Saturday night in the director's car, with the Baker 
 party, who were pleasant people. Sunday I heard 
 Professor Swing in the morning, Osborn in the after' 
 noon, and a man whose name I have forgotten in the 
 evening. I wonder how things went at Trinity ? 
 
 Then came the ride to Kansas City, crossing the big 
 
344 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. 
 
 Mississippi at Rock Island and Davenport. Then there 
 was the very beautiful ride across Kansas, and here 
 we are in Colorado, with New Mexico close by. All 
 has gone well. The excursion plan works nicely. The 
 company is pleasant. The days are long and idle. 
 There is a great deal to see, and impressions crowd 
 fast and thick. On the whole it is a good success so 
 far, and better things are promising ahead. It is not 
 Europe, but it is big America, and one is feeling its 
 bigness more and more every day. . . . 
 
 We must be all in the best condition for Andover 
 by and by. I am looking forward to that. 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 Palace Hotel, Santa Fe, May 9, 1886. 
 
 Dear Gertie, — It is very hot here, and the sun is 
 shining down upon my window dreadfully. But the 
 things one sees out of the window are very queer and 
 interesting. The houses are built of mu^, and almost 
 all of them only one story high. Indians and Mexi- 
 cans, in bright red and white blankets, walk down the 
 street. Funny little donkeys are wandering about, 
 with small children riding on their backs and kicking 
 them with their small naked heels. There are some 
 barracks across the street with a flag flying, and a few 
 soldiers lounging in the shade. Up the street there 
 is a great cathedral, whose bells are ringing for some 
 service. We are over seven thousand feet above the 
 sea, and the air is so dry that you are always thirsty 
 and cannot get enough ice water. 
 
 How I should love to take a Back Bay car and come 
 down to one of those lovely five o'clock teas, and drink, 
 and drink, and drink lemonade for three quarters of 
 an hour. . . , 
 
NEAR LOS ANGELES. 345 
 
 To-morrow we start across the Desert to California, 
 and when you get this I shall be at Los Angeles, which 
 everybody says is just as beautiful as Paradise. How 
 I wish you would take a swift car and join me there. 
 We would eat oranges, and figs, and grapes, and apri- 
 cots, and all the good things that make your mouth 
 water when you think of them. 
 
 ... I wonder how far your letter to me has got. 
 About to Kansas City, I should think. Give my best 
 love to everybody, and be sure I am your 
 
 Affectionate uncle, P. 
 
 Sierra Madre ViiiLA, near Los Angeles, California, 
 
 May 14, 1886. 
 
 ' My dear William, — I wish you could see how 
 beautiful this place is. It is not exactly like any- 
 thing I ever saw before, though there is something of 
 Italy, and something of India, and something of Syria 
 about it, It is a world of vines and oranges, with 
 palm-trees here and there, the high hills and a few 
 white peaks of the Sierra Nevada standing up behind. 
 The flowers are gorgeous ; masses of roses and hedges 
 of calla lilies all in bloom, honeysuckles and helio- 
 tropes growing up like the sides of houses. It is as 
 good a fairy-land as one can find anywhere in this 
 poor world. 
 
 The way here over the Desert was dreary enough, 
 but very picturesque and striking, and the descent of 
 the long Pacific slope was very beautiful, with countless 
 flowers and all sorts of strange shapes of hill and valley. 
 
 The great continent is crossed, and though we have 
 not yet seen the Pacific, we are within a few miles of it, 
 and shall get sight of it to-morrow when we go to 
 Santa Monica, which is directly on the coast. The 
 
346 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. 
 
 journey has gone bravely on, with no mishap. The 
 " excursion " part of it is a decided success. It has 
 reminded me always of an ocean voyage. The excur- 
 sionists are like your fellow-passengers, — you get 
 familiar with their faces, and learn to greet them in 
 the morning. With a few of them you become ac- 
 quainted, but you are under no responsibility regard- 
 ing them, and make your own companionships just as 
 you please. The comfort of it is delightful. There 
 are no plans to make, no money to pay out, and no 
 time-tables to be studied. Nothing but a little book 
 to go by, and a man to tell you what to do. By all 
 means, when you come to California be a Raymond 
 Excursionist. . . . 
 
 YosEMiTE Valley, May 20, 1886. 
 
 My dear Mary, — There never were such preci- 
 pices and waterfalls, and so I am going to write you a 
 letter. You see, it takes a two days' drive to get here ; 
 the roads are terribly rough, and when you come sud- 
 denly to Inspiration Point and look down into this 
 glorious place, ringing with cataracts that come tum- 
 bling over the brink, and with a plunge of ten Nia- 
 garas burst into clouds of spray, it is like looking into 
 a big green heaven inclosed with the most stupendous 
 cliffs, so that the blessed cannot get out, nor the 
 wicked get in. After you get here it is very won- 
 derful. One cannot describe it any more than one can 
 paint it. There is nothing like it in the world, and if 
 it were not so many thousand miles away, we would 
 come here from North Andover once every summer. 
 But it is a marvel that one can only get once in a life- 
 time. You can see a bit of a picture of it in the corner. 
 
 I am writing this beautiful letter at the right-hand 
 
YOSEMITE VALLEY. 347 
 
 side of the piazza, where the mosquitoes are very- 
 troublesome. To-day I have ridden an unfortunate 
 horse up a four-mile hill, and seen another world of 
 waterfalls and hills. I will describe them to you when 
 I get home. The whole journey has been very funny 
 and pleasant. There are people and places all along 
 the road, at Chicago, Kansas City, Alamosa, Santa 
 Fe, and Los Angeles, which I never shall forget. If 
 you could only see the place where we spent last Sun- 
 day ! The oranges made the whole landscape glow, 
 and the roses and heliotropes made it fragrant. To- 
 morrow I start for San Francisco. Think of us on 
 Sunday after next. May 30, at Monterey, and probably 
 the first Sunday in June at Portland, Oregon. Have 
 you heard they have chosen me Assistant Bishop of 
 Pennsylvania? . . . Would it not be strange to go 
 there again and end my ministry where I began it ? 
 But then it would interfere with our plan of retiring 
 to North Andover in a few years, which is what I am 
 most longing for and looking forward to in life. . . . 
 Just now a carriage-load of Raymond people, fel- 
 low-travelers of ours, went by. You have no idea how 
 friendly and familiar we are with them all. There 
 are men of letters and men of business, and women of 
 all sorts and kinds. Some of them talk good English, 
 some talk bad, and some talk what can hardly be called 
 English at all. Some of them grumble, some of them 
 smile, and some of them look too stupid to do either. 
 The way they make up to each other, and have grown 
 to be like brothers and sisters, is delightful. They 
 are more or less scattered now, but they will come to- 
 gether again at the Palace Hotel at San Francisco on 
 Saturday night, and then until we go, some of us, to 
 Oregon, the company will see much of one another. 
 
848 ACROSS THE CONTINENT, 
 
 There is the queerest primitiveness of life in this 
 blessed valley. Your landlord talks to you like a 
 brother. He asked me just now if I was the father of 
 a Mr. Brooks who was here ten years ago. . . . Then 
 he appealed to us this morning to be prompt at break- 
 fast, because his wife had been working over the stove 
 ever since three o'clock (when the first stage went 
 off), and was almost dead. So one finds himself part 
 of the family, and the cares of the house are his. Yet, 
 if it were Boston, I would leave it and come to Marl- 
 borough Street and get some lemonade. I wonder 
 what you all are doing and how you are. 
 
 . . . Here comes another stage with a tired-looking 
 party of Raymondites, who have been to see the after- 
 noon rainbow on the Bridal Veil. Then a wild Mexi- 
 can galloping by on his mustang, to show off before 
 us who sit on the piazza. It is all very nice, but by 
 and by it will be over and then 
 
 I hope you will be glad to see 
 
 Your very loving brother, P. 
 
 Pau^^ce Hotel, San Francisco, California, 
 
 May 27, 1886. 
 
 My dear Gertie, — What a good time we shall 
 have this summer! ... I will tell you all about the 
 Pacific Ocean, and how fine it is to stand on the 
 rocks and look way off to China. There is a 
 great deal of China here. The other night I went to 
 a Chinese theatre, and the way they howled, and 
 grinned, and cut up on the stage was something won- 
 derful. Their play goes on for a month, being taken 
 up each evening where they happened to leave off the 
 night before, so you hit it at one point, and it is very 
 hard to make out what the story is. Besides, it is iiv 
 
MONTEREY. 349 
 
 Chinese. There is no scenery, and the spectators 
 (those that pay half a dollar) sit right on the stage 
 and go through the dressing-room. The quarter of a 
 dollar people sit in front of the stage, just as our 
 audiences do. It was very confused, picturesque, and 
 funny. Next week I am going up to Oregon, and shall 
 be somewhere there when you get this letter. I wonder 
 what that country is like. It always sounds as if people 
 went about in furs and talked O jib way to each other, 
 but I dare say they do not. However, I shall see next 
 week, and then can tell you. We shall sail through 
 the Golden Gate, and have a lovely voyage up the 
 coast to Portland, in a beautiful steamer. How I 
 wish you would come, too. . . . 
 
 Hotel del Monte, Monterey, California, 
 June 1, 1886. 
 
 I have written from such various places the last 
 month, I fear my letters have been rather irregular in 
 reaching you. I have written to somebody at your 
 house every week. I have heard also most irregularly 
 from you, but I have had several letters from yourseK, 
 and your father and mother, for all of which I am very 
 thankful. They have been very good to get. ... I 
 am longing now to be quietly settled at the old place. 
 Not that this trip is not delightful. Everything ha.» 
 gone perfectly, and much of the best is yet to come 
 We are spending a few days at this beautiful place, and 
 to-morrow go back to San Francisco, stopping on the 
 way to see the Floods at their famous palatial place 
 at Menlo Park. I have already had five days at San 
 Francisco, which were very interesting. . . . 
 
 Thursday I go alone by steamer to Portland, Ore- 
 gon, and shall rejoin the party ten days later at Salt 
 
350 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. 
 
 Ijake. The sea, on which we spend forty-eight hours, 
 is a terror to most of the people, but I expect to enjoy 
 it very much, and shall be glad to get sight of Puget's 
 Sound and Vancouver's Island. The June days there 
 will be delightful. Oh, if you could only be with 
 me. . . . My next great delight is being with you all 
 at Andover. My best love to everybody. 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 Victoria, Vancouver's Island, Puget Sound, 
 June 8, 1886. 
 
 My dear Mary, — I hope this Puget Sound sounds 
 as far from Boston to you as it does to me. It has 
 taken a long time to get here, and is my farthest 
 point from home upon this journey. From this after- 
 noon every step is homeward. Already the boat is 
 lying at the wharf and I am writing in the cabin, while 
 there is a racket going on, of the men who are bringing 
 freight on board, and in a few minutes we shall sail 
 for Tacoma and Portland. Lunch is ready on the 
 table, or at least the preparations for lunch, but we 
 must not have any until the steamer gets away. And 
 I am very hungry, for I have been on a long drive 
 over the country for the last three hours, trying to find 
 out what this bit of Her Majesty's dominions may be 
 like. 
 
 I wish you and G. had been with me, for the drive 
 was beautiful, and led to a dry dock at a queer little 
 village, where one of the Queen's men-of-war was 
 lying, looking very picturesque. The town itself is a 
 big rambling place, with a pretty park outside, which 
 they call Beaeon Hill, just as if it were in Boston. 
 
 The streets have queer folks, Indians and Chinamen, 
 strolling about, which makes them interesting. There 
 
VICTORIA. 351 
 
 was a curious little Chinese girl, with a long pigtail, 
 who came with us in this boat in charge of an officer 
 who was taking her back to Victoria. She had been 
 stolen from China, brought out to British America, 
 thence smuggled to our dominions, and there a China 
 man had made her marry him, and he was going to 
 sell her again in San Francisco, when the law came to 
 her rescue, and she was going back in great glee, leav- 
 ing her husband behind her. She was not far from 
 being pretty, and was certainly a very cunning-looking 
 little thing, only fifteen years old, with flowers in her 
 hand and the most comical and clumsy dress you ever 
 saw. We left her at Victoria, and there seems now 
 to be nobody of any interest (here the boat started 
 which accounts for the joggling) except a horrid lit- 
 tle boy, who looks out of the window and asks silly 
 questions, for which his mother scolds him. His ques- 
 tions are very silly, but she need not scold him so, for 
 he evidently gets his silliness by direct inheritance 
 from her. I had a beautiful luncheon, rice, salmon, 
 lamb chops, baked beans, and cherry-pie. There is 
 nobody on the boat that I know. Coming up, there 
 was a man from Jamaica Plain, but he left at Seattle, 
 and I saw him no more. 
 
 The Sound is very beautiful, with its woody shores 
 and snowy peaks beyond. Mt. Baker at this end and 
 Mt. Tacoma at the other are majestic creatures, quite 
 worthy to keep company with the Alps or Himalayas. 
 I hate to turn back and leave Alaska unseen. That 
 must be gorgeous, and it is so easy to go there from 
 here ! . . . 
 
 When I get back I will go to town Sundaj^s, and the 
 long weeks between, we will spend in the old house 
 and have a lovely time. 
 
352 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. 
 
 I hope that you are all well and happy as I am, and 
 as anxious to see me as I am to see you. 
 
 Ever affectionately, P. 
 
 MAinrou Springs, Colorado, 
 June 17, 1886. 
 
 My dear Agnes, — You wrote me such a very 
 nice and interesting letter, which I received the other 
 day when I was among the Mormons, that I must 
 acknowledge it by sending this week's letter to you. 
 It is my only chance, for before next week's letter 
 is written I shall be rushing across Kansas and Mis- 
 souri on the way home, and should overtake my letter 
 if I wrote one. So this shall be the last. . . . 
 
 I wish I could look in upon you at North An- 
 dover this morning, though this place is very pretty, 
 the top of Pike's Peak very high, and the waterfalls 
 are very noisy ; so are the visitors, for it is a real 
 summer place, like a White Mountain hotel. It 
 would be pleasant, instead of breakfasting in a few 
 minutes in the room next to this, to come into your 
 dining-room and eat a great deal better breakfast 
 than we shall get here. Well, it will come in two 
 weeks. 
 
 I shall get to Boston Saturday morning. Then I 
 must spend Sunday there. I have a meeting to which 
 I shall go on Monday evening, so I may not get to An- 
 dover till Tuesday, and must come down again for 
 Commencement on Wednesday and Thursday. That 
 week will be a good deal broken up ; but after that 
 is over, I shall live at the old house all the time. 
 
 This is Bunker Hill day, is n't it? Little those 
 people knew about Pike's Peak and Salt Lake City ! 
 
DENVER. 353 
 
 You must give my love to everybody, and some day 
 write another letter to your 
 
 Affectionate uncle, Phillips. 
 
 Denver, June 20, 1886. 
 
 Dear Tood, — When I got here last night, I 
 found the hotel man very much excited and running 
 about waving a beautiful letter in the air, and crying 
 aloud, " A letter from Tood ! A letter from Tood ! " 
 He was just going to get out a band of music to 
 march around the town and look for the man to whom 
 the letter belonged, when I stepped up and told him I 
 thought that it was meant for me. He made me show 
 him my name in my hat before he would give it to 
 me, and then a great crowd gathered round and lis- 
 tened while I read it. It was such a beautiful letter 
 that they all gave three cheers, and I thought I must 
 write you an answer at once, although I told A., 
 when I wrote to her the other day, that I should not 
 write to anybody else before my coming home. 
 
 Your letter is very largely about Johnny. My 
 dear Tood, you must not let his going away depress 
 you too much. I know you like him, and that he hafi 
 been very good to you ; but such separations have to 
 come, and you will no doubt see some other young 
 man some day that you will like just as much. You 
 do not think so now, but you will, and he no doubt 
 feels very bad at going, so you must be as cheerful 
 as you can and make it as easy as possible for him. 
 Remember ! 
 
 T am on my way home now, and next Saturday will 
 see me back again in Clarendon Street. All the dear 
 little Chinese, with their pigtails, and the dreadful 
 great Mormons, with their hundred wives, and the don- 
 
354 ACROSS THE CONTINENT. 
 
 keys and the buffaloes and the Red Indians will be far 
 away, and I shall see you all again. I am impatient 
 for that, for the people out West are not as good as 
 you are. I am going to preach to them this morn- 
 ing, to try and make them better, and it is quite time 
 now to go to church. . . . 
 
 Your affectionate uncle, P. 
 
A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 
 
 1889. 
 
 Walker Hotel, Salt Lake City, 
 June 18, 1889. 
 
 Dear William, — This is the first letter of the 
 great new series. It wiU not amount to much, but 
 will let you know that we have come thus far without 
 accident, discomfort, or delay, and are spending Sun- 
 day among the Mormons. The day is bright and 
 warm, and we shall sit with content this afternoon in 
 the great Tabernacle, and see the queer people go 
 through their queer worship. In the cool of the even- 
 ing we shall leave for Ogden, and sleep in the hurry- 
 ing car which carries us to San Francisco, where we 
 shall arrive at noon on Wednesday. 
 
 Everything here looks just as it did three years ago. 
 The great Temple has grown, but is many years from 
 its completion, and the Mormons and Gentiles who 
 fill the streets are the same lank and loungy crowd. 
 I do not want to live here, and do not see any danger 
 that I shall have to. . . . We saw the mighty scenery 
 of the Denver and Rio Grande, gazed at Pike's Peak, 
 rushed through the Grand Canon of the Arkansas, 
 and reached here in time for a drive and a bed last 
 night. . . . The heat has not been troublesome, and 
 Japan does not seem to have such a sultry climate, 
 after all. . . . 
 
 AU begins weU. May everything go well with you 
 
856 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 
 
 until we meet again. My love to all, and tell them I 
 am in North Andover in heart to-day. 
 
 Palace Hotel, San Francisco, 
 June 20, 1889. 
 
 Dear William, — At last the great day has come, 
 and we sail this afternoon in the City of Sidney. We 
 have been to see her, and find she is a fine big vessel 
 of three thousand five hundred tons, with large state- 
 rooms on the upper deck, of which we have one apiece. 
 There is only one other passenger besides us. We 
 have not seen him yet, but he is said to be a Bus- 
 sian, and is the United States Commissioner for 
 Alaska. We shall know him well before we get to 
 Yokohama. The captain, first officer, and steward 
 seem to be good fellows, and there is every prospect 
 of a pleasant voyage. Everybody says that it is cool 
 and smooth, and I do not think we shall find it too 
 long. We have laid in some books, and there are 
 big decks for walkee-walkee when we feel the need of 
 exercise. 
 
 We shall hope to sail back by the City of Rio de 
 Janeiro, leaving Yokohama on the 21st of August, 
 due in San Francisco about the 5th of September. I 
 hope this will bring me back to Massachusetts in time 
 to get two solid quiet weeks at North Andover before 
 the time to go to New York for General Convention. 
 That will be good, will it not ? . . . Thanks for your 
 letter and your telegram. How often I shall think of 
 you on the long voyage. My kindest love to all of 
 you, and may we be taken care of until we meet in 
 September. Farewell, farewell ! 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
STEAMSHIP CITY OF SIDNEY. 357 
 
 Steamship City of Sidney, 
 July 8, 1889. 
 
 My dear Gertie, — You shall have the first letter 
 from the other side of the world. We have crossed 
 the Pacific and are within a hundred miles of Yoko- 
 hama. We shall arrive at midnight, and to-morrow 
 a steamer leaves there for San Francisco, which will 
 carry homewards this letter. It is our eighteenth day 
 at sea, and we are more than seven thousand miles 
 from North Andover, — think of that ! 
 
 It has been a good voyage, though the weather 
 has not been bright. It has been cold and rainy till 
 yesterday, but there has been no storm and not much 
 rough weather. To-day is loveliness itseK, but we 
 are still wearing thick clothes, and the big ulster has 
 done service most of the voyage. There has been 
 almost no sitting on deck. We have read a great 
 many novels, and looked for the sunlight, which we 
 have hardly seen. 
 
 Besides Dr. McVickar and me, there have been two 
 passengers and a half. First, a queer old Russian 
 gentleman, bound for Kamchatka and the islands 
 where the seals are found; a strange old creature, 
 who has been all over creation, and seen everything 
 and everybody, and is quite interesting. Besides him, 
 there is a missionary lady and her baby, going back 
 to Japan, but she has kept her stateroom most all 
 the way, and we have hardly seen her. So we three 
 men, with the ship's officers, have had the great 
 steamer to ourselves. She is not like the Adriatic or 
 Germanic, but she is a fine large ship and very com- 
 fortable. Plenty of room, plenty to eat, and every- 
 body well all the time. 
 
 . . . The Kodak came out this morning for the first 
 
358 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 
 
 time, and took the ship and the captain. There has 
 been no sun for it before. . . . 
 
 Think of us seeing Fujiyama to-morrow. 
 
 Your affectionate uncle, P. 
 
 Tokyo, July 14, 1889. 
 
 Arthur Dear, — Shall I tell you what Japan 
 looks like to one on the sixth day after his arrival ? 
 I could not begin to do it if I tried, but of all bright, 
 merry, pretty places, it is the prettiest and brightest, 
 and if ever life anywhere is a frolic and a joke, it 
 must be here. I do not think there can be a grim 
 spot in all the happy islands. It is all so different 
 from India. If India is a perpetual dream, some- 
 times deepening into a nightmare, Japan is a per- 
 petual spectacle, now and then blazing into a mild 
 orgie. I do not think there can be a place anywhere 
 in the world more suitable for pure relaxation. It is 
 just the country for a summer vacation, and the get- 
 ting here is delightful. 
 
 After we left you that morning in New York, five 
 weeks ago next Tuesday, we had a prosperous journey 
 across the continent ; and after two days in San Fran- 
 cisco, sailed across the Pacific, a long, wet, placid 
 voyage of eighteen days, and landed at Yokohama 
 with minds well emptied, rested, and ready for what- 
 ever might be poured in. The people looked so glad 
 to see us. The jinrikisha men did not quarrel with 
 our bulk ; the foreign residents were kind and hospi- 
 table. In Yokohama I dined with a classmate of 
 yours, John Lindsley by name, who is the agent of 
 the Canadian Pacific, and has a beautiful house and 
 pretty wife. Yesterday we came on hither, where 
 to-day, in addition to thousands of heathen, I have 
 
TOKYO. 359 
 
 seen Bishop "Williams and many of the missionary 
 people and arrangements of our church. It all looks 
 very well, and the best of the foreigners tell good 
 stories about missionary life and influence. 
 
 So Japan is a true success as the field for a summer 
 journey. The weather so far is delightful, and the 
 great Buddha at Kamakura is wonderful indeed. 
 
 I hope your summer is going delightfully. I am 
 sure it is. My best love to Lizzie. . . . 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 Tokyo, July 14, 1889. 
 
 Dear William, — This is the sixth day in Japan, 
 and all goes wonderfully well. In a few days the 
 steamer starts for San Francisco, and a word of greet- 
 ing shall go in her to tell you that we landed safely 
 from the City of Sidney last Tuesday morning, and 
 since then have lived in Yokohama until yesterday. 
 
 We came here, and are now in the very heart of Jap- 
 anese history and life. It is very fascinating. The 
 brightest, merriest, kindest, and most graceful people, 
 who seem as glad to see you as if they had been wait- 
 ing for you all these years, smile upon you in the 
 streets, and make you feel as if their houses were yours 
 the moment you cross the threshold. They drag you 
 round in their absurd jinrikishas as if it were a jolly 
 joke, and are sitting now by the score along the road 
 outside the window in all degrees of undress and all 
 the colors of the rainbow, chattering away, making 
 pretty gestures, as if good manners and civility were 
 the only ends of life. I never saw anything like it, 
 and the fascination grows with every new street pic- 
 ture that one sees. 
 
 The weather is delightful : mornings and evenings 
 
860 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 
 
 are very cool and pleasant ; the noonday is hot, but 
 not too hot to go about ; and every now and then tre- 
 mendous downfalls of rain. Wednesday it rained as 
 I hardly ever saw it rain before, and you would have 
 laughed to see our experiences on Thursday, when we 
 went into the country to see the great bronze Buddha, 
 sixty feet high, who has sat for six hundred years in a 
 great grove of pine-trees twenty miles from Yokohama. 
 The railroad had been swept away by the rain, and we 
 had to take to jinrikishas. The road was overflowed, 
 and we had to get into boats and be ferried over the 
 submerged rice-fields. Finally, I found myself on a 
 coolie's back, being carried over a little torrent, which 
 the jinrikisha could not cross. The coolie never will 
 forget it any more than I shall ; but we saw the Dai- 
 batzu, which is the gigantic Buddha's name. And I 
 snapped the Kodak into his very face. 
 
 We have had most hospitable welcome from Ameri- 
 can and English people ; almost every night in Yoko- 
 hama we dined out, and here we have been given rooms 
 at the club, which is a Government affair and most 
 comfortable. To-morrow night we are to dine with 
 the English Bishop of Japan, and there is more of 
 courtesy and kindness than we can accept. 
 
 We shall have warmer weather, for everybody says 
 the summer has not fairly begim. It will not be 
 excessive. Indeed, the whole climate is not unlike the 
 summer climate of New York. 
 
 To-day we have been looking a little at our foreign 
 missionary work, and find it a very real thing, full of 
 interest and promise. 
 
 Five weeks ago to-night I spent the evening in Marl- 
 borough Street. If you meet Dr. George Ellis, as we 
 did that evening on Commonwealth Avenue, teU him 
 
NIKKO. 361 
 
 Japan is a great success ; and with all love to M. and 
 the children, be sure that I am 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 NiKKO, July 21, 1889. 
 
 My dear Mary, — You remember the Japanese 
 have a proverb which declares that " he who has not 
 seen Nikko has no right to say Kekko." Kekko means 
 beautiful. You may have seen Keswick, Heidelberg, 
 Venice, Boston, North Andover, and Hingham, but if 
 you have not seen Nikko, the Jap does not believe 
 you know what beauty is. I do not think he is quite 
 right, but Nikko is certainly very beautiful. 
 
 We came up here from Tokyo on Friday, with three 
 hours of railroad, to Utsunomiya, and then six hours of 
 jolting over the worst of roads, all washed with recent 
 rains, with long stops to rest the wretched horses at 
 queer tea houses by the way. A most beautiful ave- 
 nue of stately trees extends along the whole route, and 
 we came into the sacred valley far up among the hills. 
 Here are the most splendid temples in Japan. They 
 are the great shrines of the heroes of the proud days 
 of Japanese history. Their solemn bells are always 
 sounding, and the richness of their decoration, the 
 mystery of their vast courtyards, and the strange fig- 
 ures of their priests are most impressive. In Tokyo 
 there is much of new Japan. We saw the university, 
 the missionary operations, and the electric lights. 
 Here it is all mediaeval, and the works of man are as 
 venerable as the hills. It is intensely interesting. 
 
 The jinrikisha men finally rebelled at Utsunomiya, 
 and would not bring us over the washed and gullied 
 road. One could not blame them, but it was incon- 
 venient, for we had to take the roughest of carriages, 
 
362 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 
 
 and the horses would not have been allowed to be 
 harnessed by any society for the prevention of cruelty 
 to beasts. 
 
 Our traveling for these ten days in Japan has been 
 a beautiful frolic. We have a capital guide and ser- 
 vant, a merry little fellow named Hakodate, who talks 
 queer English, does everything that one mortal man 
 can do for two others under his charge, and makes us 
 very comfortable. He is the best guide, I suppose, in 
 the country, has traveled with all sorts of distinguished 
 people, and is perpetually proud of the size of the party 
 at present in his care. If you come across a little 
 French book called " Notes d'un Globe-Trotter," by a 
 Mr. Daudiffret, you wiU find much about Hakodate 
 under the name of Tatzu. Tatzu is his real name, but 
 for some unknown reason he goes under the name of 
 the town in the north of Japan from which he comes. 
 That same French book is a very amusing account of 
 much of what we are seeing every day in this delight- 
 ful land. 
 
 . . . This Sunday morning is Sunday evening with 
 you. I am just going to preach at a service in one 
 of the houses here. You are sitting on the piazza. I 
 wish I could spend the evening with you, and yet these 
 hills are lovely, and so far the climate has been perfect. 
 There has been no excessive heat. Now and then a 
 bit of an earthquake, they say, but they are so little 
 that there is no excitement. 
 
 It seems as if there were aU pleasant things, until 
 we meet in mid-September. Till then may we all be 
 safe and well. My love to all. 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
NIKKO. 363 
 
 NiKKO, Japan, July 22, 1889. 
 
 Dear Johnnie, — I wonder if it rains this morning 
 at Marion as it rains at Nikko. The bells of the Bud- 
 dhist temples sound through the thick mist, and the 
 mountains hide themselves under the clouds, and we 
 can see nothing of what everybody says is the most 
 beautiful place in Japan. Before it clears I will talkee- 
 talkee a little with you. After I left you, Hattie, Dodo, 
 and baby at Springfield, I reached New York safely, 
 and the next morning the great trip really began. 
 We went on, and on, and at last, on the morning of 
 the 8th of July, set foot on the land of the Rising Sun 
 at Yokohama. The little Japs were very glad to see 
 us. They brought their little jinrikishas down to the 
 wharf, and pulled us through their little streets, past 
 their little houses, to the big hotel. Ever since that 
 they have been as good, civil, and delightful as possible. 
 They are the merriest folk alive. Everybody smiles 
 all the time. They smile when you speak to them 
 and when you do not, when you stop and when you pass 
 by, when they understand you and when they do not. 
 They meet you with a smile at the steps of their little 
 toy tea houses, and though they expect you to take off 
 your shoes and enter in your stocking feet, that you 
 may not hurt their pretty mats, and you have to sit 
 upon the floor in most uncomfortable attitudes, still 
 they are so glad to see you, and hand you the chop- 
 sticks, with which you are to eat your rice, in such a 
 winning way, that you would not offend one of their 
 inconvenient little prejudices for all the world. 
 
 The missionaries are good people and are doing ex- 
 cellent work. We spent one Sunday in Tokyo, and 
 saw Bishop Williams and the mission buildings and one 
 of the girls' schools. Most of the schools are in vaca- 
 
364 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 
 
 tion for the summer, and many of the missionaries 
 are here in this momitain place of cool resort. We 
 held service yesterday in the house of one of them, 
 which belongs to a Buddhist priest, and has the temple 
 itself in the side yard. The priest looked at us as we 
 went to church, but did not come into our meeting. 
 If he had, he might have heard me preach in the morn- 
 ing and McVickar in the afternoon. Here, also, is 
 your classmate Sturgis Bigelow, who with Mr. Fenol- 
 losa of '74, and Mrs. Fenollosa, has been living in 
 Japan for years. They know the whole thing thor- 
 oughly, and since I began this beautiful letter (about 
 the middle of the third page) we went with them and 
 spent three hours in the Shinto temple of the great 
 lyeasu which is the most beautiful thing you ever saw. 
 We are going to dine with them to-night. 
 
 About the time you get this, the 21st of August, we 
 shall sail from Yokohama for San Francisco in the City 
 of Rio de Janeiro, and about the middle of September 
 I shall be in North Andover. Come and see me there, 
 and tell me about your summer, and I will tell you 
 all about mine, which is as jolly and queer as anything. 
 
 My love to the babies and Hattie. 
 
 Ever affectionately, P. 
 
 Mtanoshita, Japan, July 28, 1889. 
 Dear William, — I will put into this letter a 
 photograph of this pretty place, where we are spend- 
 ing a delightful Sunday. It is far up among the 
 hills, and is Swiss-looking in its general mountain as- 
 pect. Thursday we left Nikko, after five days among 
 its marvels, only made less perfect than they might 
 have been by rather too much rain. But they were 
 full of interest. Then we came back over a horrible 
 
MYANOSHITA. 365 
 
 road to Utsonomiya and by rail to Yokohama. Friday 
 we took rail to Odza, then carriage and jinrikisha to 
 this place. Yesterday we went to Hakoni lake and 
 saw most finely Fujiyama, the great mountain of 
 Japan. 
 
 The whole way was full of interest, through vil- 
 lages, past temples, and by one mighty Buddha carved 
 out of solid rock, sitting by the roadside. To-morrow 
 we go to Nagaia, then to Kioto, Nara, Osaka, Kobe, 
 and by the Inland Sea to Nagasaki, whence we return 
 to Yokohama to take the City of Kio home the 21st 
 of August. She brought to us this week your letters 
 of the 2d of July. . . . All this list of places can give you 
 no idea of the perpetual interest of this strange land. 
 The Kodak keeps snapping all the time, and I hope 
 is getting some pictures which will be interesting. 
 Every person in the street, every group upon the 
 country road, every shop, and house, and tea house, 
 and temple is as queer or beautiful as possible, and 
 the people are delighted when you tell them to stand 
 out in the sunshine to have their portraits taken. 
 
 Hakodate proves a jewel of a guide, and while he 
 looks out ludicrously for his own comfort, is very 
 careful also for ours, and orders the good native 
 Japanese about as if he were a prince. We have not 
 suffered from the heat more than we should have done 
 on an ordinary White Mountain journey, and though 
 the hottest part is yet to come, I have no fear that it 
 will be excessive. The rains have bothered us a little, 
 but on the other hand have kept the country very 
 fresh and green, and the luxuriance is something won- 
 derful. Rice fields are sheets of emerald and the 
 bamboo groves are like fairy temples. The lotus is 
 breaking into flower, and the low swamps are gor- 
 
366 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 
 
 geous with its great leaves and splendid flowers. 
 Just now the talk is of the new Constitution of Japan, 
 which goes into operation next winter, and will make 
 the country as modern in its government as the United 
 States itself. What will become of the Buddhist 
 temples and the picturesque dresses, nobody can tell. 
 Already young Japan affects skepticism and trousers, 
 but the missionaries will have to set all that right. 
 They are doing good work and have the respect of all 
 true men here. 
 
 So much for Japan, though one might write about 
 it forever. My thoughts run all the time to North 
 Andover. You are about going to bed as we sit here 
 writing and waiting for tiffin, which is served about 
 one o'clock. I hope there is as cool a breeze blowing 
 across the piazza as that which blows through this 
 open hall, but I am sure that no such little Japanese 
 waiting-maid, in kimono and obi, sits squatting on her 
 bare heels in the corner. North Andover is best in 
 the long run. My loveliest love to all. 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 Kobe, Japan, August 7, 1889. 
 Dear William, — We are here at Kobe after a 
 most delightful journey from Myanoshita, from which 
 place I wrote you last. The prettiest thing about it 
 was the visit to Nara, the old, old capital of Japan, 
 and the seat of its most venerable worship. We left 
 Kioto after dinner and traveled at night to avoid the 
 heat, which was pretty terrible that day. We had 
 three jinrikishas, one for each of us, and one for Ha- 
 kodate, also one which went ahead with the luggage. 
 Each of our jinrikishas had three men, one in the 
 shafts and two pulling ahead. We left at seven 
 
KOBE. 367 
 
 o'clock, and reached Nara at one in the morning, 
 thirty-three miles in six hours. The cheerful little 
 men went on a steady trot most all the way, and 
 seemed as merry as crickets when we arrived. Three 
 times we stopped at teahouses and stuffed them full 
 of rice, and then trotted off again into the night. It 
 was bright moonlight the first haK of the way, and the 
 stars were splendid when the moon went down. We 
 ambled along through rice fields and tea plantations, 
 with villages strung along the road and people coming 
 out to look at us all night. 
 
 At Nara, the hospitable people of the Japanese 
 hotel were looking for us, and soon after our arrival 
 we were sound asleep. Here we spent two days, in 
 a perfect wilderness of splendid scenery, historical 
 association, temple architecture, and curious life. 
 There are tame sacred deer in the groves, and tame 
 sacred fishes in the lakes. The trees are hundreds of 
 years old, and the temples are older. And the beauty 
 of the landscape is a perpetual delight. Here we spent 
 Sunday. We went to a little missionary chapel of 
 our church and heard our service in Japanese, and an 
 excellent sermon in the same language by a native 
 layman. 
 
 The white missionary in charge was off on his 
 summer vacation, like the Rector of Trinity Church, 
 Boston. After service, we sat in a tea house over- 
 looking the lake, where it was cool. In the afternoon 
 we strayed in the great temple groves and saw the 
 priests at their curious worship ; all night the drums 
 were beating and picturesque heathenism going on in 
 its remarkable way. Next morning early we left for 
 Osaka, stopping to visit a most remarkable Buddhist 
 monastery on the way. After one brilliant day at 
 
368 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 
 
 Osaka, we came here, and to-morrow leave by 
 steamer for Nagasaki, which will take us through the 
 beautiful inland sea, one of the chief glories of Japan. 
 That will be the extreme limit of our traveling. 
 
 From Nagasaki we come back to Kobe ; then by 
 sea to Yokohama, and after a few excursions from 
 that familiar place, we shall be ready for the City of 
 B-io two weeks from to-day. After that you know 
 what will become of me until I present myself at the 
 side door in North Andover. The Kodak is full. I 
 cannot find anybody wise enough to change the old 
 plates for the new, I cannot make the back come out 
 to do it for myself, so I shall bring it home as it is ; 
 perhaps some of the hundred snaps which I have 
 made may have caught something interesting, which 
 the man in Bromfield Street can bring out. 
 
 It is hot, beautiful weather, no hotter, I should say, 
 than we often have in Boston, and only slightly, for 
 the most part, letting up at night. We are quite well, 
 and the weather does not hinder our doing all we wish 
 to do ; the country is in beautifid condition, and the 
 half-naked folks are brown as berries. And you are 
 all well, I most devoutly hope. Letters will come to- 
 day, but they will not bring advices very late. My 
 love of loves to all of you. 
 
 Affectionately, P. 
 
 KiOGO Hotel, Kobe, August 9, 1889. 
 Dear Tood, — The mail came this morning, and 
 brought me beautiful letters from your father, mo- 
 ther, and you. Before we start for Nagasaki, in the 
 beautiful steamer Tokyo-Maru, there is just time to 
 write a beautiful line to you, and send these beautiful 
 pictures which have just come in from a beautiful 
 
KOBE. 369 
 
 photographer's shop at the corner of the street. Mr. 
 McVickar sends his love to you with this, and so 
 does Hakodate, who sits in his native fashion on the 
 floor at Dr. McVickar's feet. He is a good, wise 
 man, and when you come to Japan you must have him 
 for your guide. 
 
 I am glad you are having such a good time at 
 North Andover. Look out for me there soon after 
 you get this. My loveliest love to all. 
 
 Your loving uncle, P. 
 
 Steamship Wakamoma-Maru, 
 
 August 13, 1889. 
 
 Dear Gertie, — The Parthia sails this week for 
 Vancouver, so there seems to be one more chance 
 to send a letter from Japan before we leave, and it 
 shall go to you. We are sailing along the southern 
 coast, between Kobe and Yokohama, with the pretty, 
 hilly shore in clear sight. We should see Fujiyama 
 itself if it were not quite so hazy. This afternoon we 
 shall be in Yokohama, then we shall probably go off 
 into the country to Kamakara and Enoshima, and a 
 few other pretty places, for the one short week that 
 remains before the " Rio " comes along to carry us 
 away from this delightful land. 
 
 Since I wrote the other day, we have been from 
 Kobe to Nagasaki and back, sailing twice through the 
 Inland Sea. It was very lovely, almost as pretty as 
 Lake George itself. The days were warm and breezy, 
 the nights had glorious moonlight, and I only wished 
 you were all here to see the pretty sights. Queer 
 junks were lounging on the water about us, and 
 funny little villages were on the shore, and curious 
 Japanese people went pattering about the steamer's 
 
370 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 
 
 deck. None of them were as nice or well dressed as 
 the little girl I send you, seated between her cherry- 
 trees, but they were her poorer sisters, and she will 
 give you some idea of what looking folk they are. I 
 am quite sure I have seen her a dozen times, as I have 
 gone in and out of their ridiculous little houses. 
 
 And so this fun is almost over I In three weeks we 
 shall be in San Francisco. ... It will be hard to 
 realize that this life, which we have been seeing so 
 constantly for these five weeks, will be still going on. 
 The priests praying in the temples, the girls chatter- 
 ing over their tea, the jinrikishas running round the 
 streets, the jugglers performing in their booths, the 
 missionaries preaching in their churches, the mer- 
 chants squatting in their shops, the women toddling 
 with their babies, the boys swimming in the streams, 
 and everybody as merry and good-natured as in a 
 world of doUs. It will be quite as good to remember 
 as it has been to see. 
 
 When you get this, begin to look out for our arrival 
 at the Golden Gate, and have the corn barn ready for 
 a pleasant little smoke soon after. My best of love to 
 everybody. How pretty the piazza at North Andover 
 must look this pleasant morning! Good-by, dear 
 Gertie. Your affectionate uncle, P. 
 
 Steamship City of Rio db jAinsnto, 
 
 August 28, 1889. 
 
 Dear Arthur, — Japan is far behind us. We 
 are almost halfway across the Pacific Ocean. Mc- 
 Vickar is on deck talking to some English people, 
 and I remembered the letter which I was very glad 
 to get from you just before I left Yokohama last 
 week. I want to answer it, first to thank you for it, 
 
STEAMSHIP CITY OF RIO DE JANEIRO. 371 
 
 and then to say how sorry I am that I must not allow 
 myself to think of accepting your kind invitation to 
 visit Minnequa on my way across the continent. It 
 would be a very pleasant thing to do, but I shall not 
 much more than get home to Boston for Sunday, the 
 22d of September, and I have promised myself to 
 preach there on that day. Then I shall have one 
 quiet week at North Andover to get my wits and 
 clothes in order before I start, on the 2d of October, 
 for the great campaign of General Convention. It 
 will not do to try and get in anything besides, and the 
 first that I shall see of you and Lizzie will be when I 
 appear at breakfast on the morning of October 3, and 
 we go together to the great opening service at St. 
 George's. It was very good and thoughtful of you to 
 propose the visit, but it must not be. 
 
 This is a good, slow, steady steamer, with a very 
 multifarious lot of folk on board, and all is going very 
 pleasantly. We shall have two Thursdays this week, 
 picking up the lost day which we dropped here in the 
 mid-Pacific two months ago. But, in spite of that, 
 we shaU not be in San Francisco until Friday of next 
 week. Then we are going up to Vancouver and home 
 by the Canadian Pacific via Winnipeg, St. Paul, and 
 Chicago. It has been a great success, — the worst 
 thing of the summer being the steamboat ink with 
 which I am trying to write this letter. I hope that 
 all goes well with you, and that Minnequa is gayety 
 itseK. Well, well, another winter's work draws very 
 near! 
 
 My kindest love to Lizzie, and counting on much 
 talk in October, I am, Affectionately, P. 
 
372 A SUMMER IN JAPAN. 
 
 Steamship City of Rio de Jakeiro, 
 Pacific Ocean, September 6, 1889. 
 
 Dear William, — We shall be at 'Frisco to- 
 night, then I will send this last letter of the sum- 
 mer, which will tell you we are safely across this 
 mighty pond, and that I shall be with you before two 
 weeks more are passed. We have had a slow voyage, 
 because the ship is not a fast one, needs cleaning, and 
 has not been pressed. We were also one day late in 
 leaving Yokohama, owing to the severe storms raging 
 in the Chinese Sea, which were expected to delay 
 the steamer in arriving at Japan. The whole voyage 
 has been calm and peaceful. For days and days the 
 ocean was almost without a wave, and at her worst 
 the ship has not rolled enough to hurt the weak- 
 est traveler. We have about twenty first-class pas- 
 sengers, a curious lot, Americans, English, Scotch, 
 French, German, Russians, Japanese, and a whole 
 lot of queer Chinese in the steerage, who cannot 
 go ashore in San Francisco, but will be passed on 
 to Mexico and other places which do not yet refuse to 
 take in the poor Celestials. The voyage has not been 
 dull or tedious, but it will be rather good to go on 
 shore early to-morrow morning and telegraph to you 
 that I am safely here. We shall spend Sunday in 
 San Francisco, and in the evening start by way of 
 Sacramento for Portland and Puget Sound. We 
 shall probably arrive in Boston Thursday, the 19tlv 
 and then for a quiet, delightful week at North Ando- 
 ver before the General Convention at New York. 
 
 I hope to hear to-night that all is well with you. If 
 I hear that, the summer will be perfect. It is five 
 weeks since your last dates, and one cannot help feel- 
 
STEAMSHIP CITY OF RIO DE JANEIRO. 373 
 
 ing a bit anxious. I believe all will be well. You 
 shall hear from me, by and by, just when I will arrive. 
 Until then, be sure that I am anxious to get home, 
 and with the best of love to all, count me 
 
 Affectionately your dear brother, P. 
 
SUMMER OF 1890. 
 
 Lucerne, August 25, 1890. 
 
 Dear Johnnie, — You were mighty good to write 
 me such a fine long letter. Although you will not get 
 this answer much before I come myself, I cannot help 
 thanking you and sending you all an affectionate 
 greeting this rainy morning. It is our first real rainy 
 day. The summer has been free from blighting heat 
 and blasting tornado, such as has devastated things at 
 home. To think of South Lawrence getting all blown 
 to pieces ! I read about it in the " Journal de Geneve," 
 and trembled for the corn barn. What a pity that 
 I have lost your visits to the old house. It must 
 have been delightful both for you and for Andover. . . . 
 
 This has been the quietest of little journeys, but 
 very pleasant indeed. The streets of London looked 
 just as we left them ten years ago, and the great 
 white hills were waiting for us in Chamounix and In- 
 terlaken. Of course the people whom we wanted most 
 to see were gone from London, for the season was over 
 before we arrived, but I had a delightful little visit 
 with Tennyson in his home at Aldworth. He has 
 grown old, but is bright and clear-headed, and may 
 give us some more verses yet. Just after I left Eng- 
 land, Newman died, and the pulpit and press have 
 been full of laudation and discussion of him ever 
 since. He was a remarkable man, by no means of the 
 first class, for he never got at final principles nor 
 showed a truly brave mind ; but there was great 
 
LUCERNE. 375 
 
 beauty in his character, and his intellect was very 
 subtle. . . . What a wild scene of frivolous excitement 
 Marion seems to have been ! I do not wonder that 
 you, H. and the children had to take to the water, to 
 escape the land. Be sure and all keep well and safe 
 till we come back, and then for another year of the 
 old familiar, pleasant work. My kindest love to all 
 of you. Affectionately, P. 
 
LAST JOURNEY ABEOAD. 
 
 1892. 
 
 H. M. S. Majestic, June 27, 1892. 
 
 Dear Mary, — I miss my old companions very 
 much indeed. It would be very delightful if you and 
 G. were on deck to-day, as I am sure you would be 
 if you were on board. The day is delightful, and 
 the big ship is going splendidly. She is a magnificent 
 great thing, and could put our dear little Cephalonia 
 into her waistcoat pocket. Her equipment is sumptu- 
 ous and her speed is something tremendous, but I do 
 not know that I like her as well as the old-fashioned 
 little boats which seem more homelike, and where one 
 knows how to find his way about. . . . Our captain is 
 Purcell, who commanded the Adriatic when G., you, 
 and I once sailed on her. He has given me the use 
 of his deck-room during the day, so I have a lovely, 
 quiet time .... Mr. Howard Potter and his family, 
 and Dr. and Mrs. Watson of Boston, with whom I 
 sit at an extra table in the hall which opens on the 
 deck, are about all of whom I see anything. 
 
 Yesterday we had service, and I preached in the 
 great saloon in the morning, and in the evening I held 
 a service for the second-class passengers, of whom 
 there is a multitude. There is no gong for meals, but 
 two rosy little sailor boys march through the ship 
 with bugles playing a tune to call us, which is very 
 pretty indeed. Wednesday morning we shall get to 
 
LONDON. 377 
 
 Queenstown, and that night I hope to dine and sleep 
 at the Adelphi, where I will eat some mushrooms in 
 your honor. Then I go to London, where I shall be 
 on Thursday night, and ever so many nights after- 
 wards, I trust. It looks very nice, but indeed I should 
 not have been disappointed if the Majestic could not 
 have taken me, and I had been left in North Andover 
 for the summer, as I expected when I saw you last. 
 May it be a beautiful summer to you all. . . . 
 
 Yours affectionately and majestically, P. 
 
 Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
 July 4, 1892. 
 
 Dear Gertie, — I have the same old rooms, the 
 big parlor and bedroom on the second floor ; the boot- 
 black boy is across the way, the smiling youth is on the 
 sidewalk, the big porter is in the hall, and everything 
 is just the way it used to be, only I miss you very 
 much indeed, and wish you would take the next 
 steamer and come out. You must not take the City 
 of Chicago, because she was wrecked, and it would 
 not have been nice to clamber up the side of that 
 steep rock on a rope ladder. You had better take the 
 Cephalonia ; or, if you cannot get her, the Majestic, 
 which is a splendid great boat, with a great deal of 
 room and all the luxuries of which you can conceive, 
 and she comes over in no time. . . . 
 
 All your friends are well and asking after you. I 
 dined at Archdeacon Farrar's Saturday night. Lady 
 Frances Baillie was there, and so were the Bishop of 
 Rochester and his wife ; he used to be Dean of Wind- 
 sor, you remember, when we went there once. Yes- 
 terday I preached in the morning at St. Margaret's, 
 ^nd in the evening at the Abbey, and there were a 
 
378 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 great many people in both churches. And now to-day, 
 for I have been out since I began this letter this 
 morning, I have been running all over town, and last 
 of all have been to pay my Fourth of July respects to 
 Mr. Lincoln, the American minister. Do you re- 
 member when we went to see Mr. Lowell one Fourth 
 of July, and you sat all the time in the carriage ? 
 
 There is a splendid new Velasquez at the National 
 Gallery. The National Gallery has bought it since 
 we were last here, and the people for the first time 
 have a chance of seeing it. . . . 
 
 I am going now to dine at Dr. Sewall's, to-morrow 
 at the Abbey, Wednesday at Mrs. Synge's, Thursday 
 at the Dean's, and so on every day. How is Tood ? 
 Everybody is expecting her, and wondering why she 
 did not come over this year. They can hardly wait to 
 see her. Last Saturday there was a garden party at 
 Lambeth Palace, and everybody looked happy, and 
 some of them very pretty. Next week I am going to 
 see the Tennysons, and the week after I go to see 
 our friend the Bishop of Rochester, who is now the 
 Bishop of Winchester, and lives at Famham Castle. . . . 
 I am coming home on the Pavonia with Uncle John 
 and Aunt Hattie on the 8th of September. Now I 
 cannot write any more, but send my love to every- 
 body, and am Your affectionate uncle, 
 
 P. 
 
 Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
 July 11, 1892. 
 
 Dear William, — I did not get any time to write 
 yesterday, because there was preaching to do all day. 
 In the morning, I preached at a great big church in 
 Chelsea, and went home to dinner with the minister. 
 
LONDON. 379 
 
 Then I came back here and went to sleep in the after- 
 noon, and had a beautiful time. In the evening, I 
 preached at St. Peter's, Eaton Square, a large and 
 fashionable church ; went home to supper with the min- 
 ister, and found a number of people, quite a Sunday 
 evening supper party. ... I am only going to preach 
 once more, next Sunday morning, for Haweis, to whom 
 I have owed a sermon ever since he preached so re- 
 markably in Trinity. When that is over, I shall do 
 up the sermons and the Episcopal robes, and not open 
 them again until I get to North Andover and preach 
 for Mr. Walker. 
 
 This morning, I had a long call from Father Hall, 
 who looks weU and hearty, and seems to be enjoying 
 things over here, and to have no thought of coming 
 back to Boston or America. It was pleasant to see 
 him again. 
 
 John and Hattie are somewhere in England. I 
 heard from John when they arrived at Liverpool, and 
 he expects to bring up here next Saturday night. 
 They seem to have had a very comfortable and pros- 
 perous voyage. Arthur is now upon the ocean, and 
 will be here, I suppose, some time near the end of the 
 week. McVickar is somewhere on this side, but has 
 not yet shown himself. 
 
 I think I shall go to the Continent on the 25th, two 
 weeks from to-day. I do not know where I shall go, 
 or what I shall do. I would like to go over the 
 Stelvio again with you, and if you will come out we 
 will do it. If you do not come, I shaU go alone, 
 probably as far as Switzerland, perhaps to Venice. . . • 
 Yours affectionately, P. 
 
380 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 London, July 17, 1892. 
 
 Dear William, — ... I have just come back 
 from preaching for Mr. Haweis at his church in 
 Marylebone, and have promised to take luncheon here 
 with Arthur at half past one, and then go and hear 
 Farrar preach at the Abbey at three. Before he 
 comes I will begin my Sunday note to you. I am not 
 going to preach any more. Next Sunday I shall be 
 here with Johnnie, and we will go and hear some of 
 the great men whom this big city can supply. 
 
 . . . Yesterday I spent at Lord Tennyson's, going 
 down with Farrar in the morning and getting back to 
 dinner. The old man was in beautiful condition, 
 gentle, gracious, and talkative until he went for his 
 snooze, as he called it, after luncheon. He read us 
 some of his poetry, and talked about it in the most 
 interesting way. Lady Tennyson is a beautiful in- 
 valid, and the young people, Hallam, his wife, and 
 children, are delightful. 
 
 We have been to the afternoon service at the 
 Abbey, and had a pleasant anthem and a fine sermon 
 from Archdeacon Farrar. The whole thing goes on, 
 you see, very much after the old fashion, and is very 
 good. After another week I shall be glad to be away, 
 and then I shall think of you, in Paris and among the 
 hills. . . . 
 
 Westminster Palace Hotel, London, 
 July 24, 1892. 
 
 Dear Tood, — . . . Yesterday we were at the 
 National Gallery and saw the Botticellis, Giorgiones, 
 Tintorettos, Titians, and others. The afternoon be- 
 fore, we took a fine drive in the Park and had a 
 lovely time. This afternoon we have all been to 
 
KULM. 381 
 
 Westminster Abbey and heard ArcMeacon Farrar 
 preach a fine sermon. Right in the middle of it a girl 
 went wild and shrieked at the top of her voice, and 
 they had to carry her out neck and heels. Don't ever 
 do that, will you ? . . . 
 
 I am going to leave Tuesday morning for the Conti- 
 nent. I do not know where I shall go, but I think Dr. 
 McVickar will go with me, and we shall find some 
 snow mountains somewhere. I am very sorry about 
 the electric railway at North Andover, and the trees. 
 Perhaps we cannot go there any more after this year. 
 Where do you think we had better go ? I went the 
 other day to the Bishop of Winchester's. He lives 
 at Farnham Castle, an awfully old affair, with keep, 
 drawbridge, and dungeons underground, and a park 
 of three hundred acres and deer in it. 
 
 D. and B. have grown up to be young ladies, and 
 D. sits at the head of her father's table. I am glad 
 you are reading so many nice books. You will 
 know all about things when you come abroad. How 
 are all your friends ? Dear me ! it sounds very far 
 away, but I shall come home by and by, and we will 
 get a few days in the old house together before we 
 break up and call the summer done. • . . Good-by, 
 my love to all, and I am 
 
 Your dear uncle, P. 
 
 St. Mobitz, Engadine, Hotkl Kulm, 
 
 August 7, 1892. 
 
 My deak Mary, — ... It has been a very good 
 week. Last Sunday we spent at Trouville. That 
 means Dr. McYickar and I. Monday we went to 
 Paris and put up at the Grand Hotel. It looked very 
 bright and familiar, just as it did when G., you, and 
 
382 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 I were there. You and G. were not there this time, 
 for which I was very sorry. 
 
 Tuesday evening we took the Orient Express for 
 Munich, the train which you know we thought of tak- 
 ing, but did not, from Strasburg to Paris. It was very 
 swift and comfortable, and brought us to Munich at 
 noon on Wednesday. We stayed at the Baierischer 
 Hof . . . . Thursday morning we took a train to Inns- 
 bruck, but did not go by the Achensee. As we passed 
 Jenbach, we saw they had a railway from Jenbach to 
 the Achensee, with queer, tilted-up cars, like those 
 that go up the Pilatus. Friday morning we took the 
 rail to Landeck, and then a carriage for a two days' 
 drive up the valley of the Inn, which brought us 
 here. . . . We slept at the Tyroler Hof, where 
 A. and L. and G. and you and I were five years 
 ago. . . . 
 
 This is a glorious place, and the weather is superb. 
 We shall stay here for several days, and then I do not 
 know where we shall go. ... I wish you were all here 
 this afternoon, for the snow mountains are very 
 fine. . . . 
 
 Lucerne, August 14, 1892. 
 
 Dear Gertie, — I passed the Eestaurant Titlis 
 this morning, and thought of you and the night we 
 spent there before they moved us to the pretty Entre- 
 sol in the Schweitzer Hof. The Schweitzer Hof now 
 is full, and we are lodged. Dr. McVickar and I, in the 
 top story of the Lucerner Hof. Last night there were 
 the band and the fireworks in front of the Schweitzer 
 Hof, the old way. . . . 
 
 We came here yesterday over the St. Gotthard 
 from Lugano, on the lake of Lugano. There we had 
 spent a day, climbing up Monte Generosa by a queer 
 
INTERLAKEN. 383 
 
 old railway, like that which climbs up the Mount Pila- 
 tus, which I can see from my window now, if I almost 
 break my neck by twisting round the corner for a 
 view. We came to Lugano from Cadenabbia on the 
 lake of Como, and to Cadenabbia we had come by the 
 Maloja Pass and the beautiful lake from St. Moritz, 
 whence I wrote last Sunday; that is thus far our 
 journey. . . . 
 
 Oh, I wish you were here, and that we were to go 
 over the Brunig to-morrow to Interlaken, M. and you, 
 and I. But you can see how it aU looks. The lake, 
 the boats, the flags, the people, and the hills around 
 it. 
 
 I send my best love to you all, and by and by will 
 see you at North Andover. 
 
 Yours affectionately and affectionately, P. 
 
 Hotel Victoria, Inteblakbn, 
 
 August 21, 1892. 
 
 Deak William, — There is no letter this week, 
 from any of you, for which I am very sorry. I hope 
 you have not grown tired of me, and given me up 
 altogether. 
 
 Do you remember Grindelwald and the Bear Hotel, 
 on whose balcony we sat one long afternoon, wait- 
 ing for the rain to stop, so that we could ascend the 
 Wengern Alp? M. and G. and I went to the same 
 Bear Hotel two years ago, and sat in its hospitable 
 courtyard, drank coffee, and had our photographs 
 taken by a low-spirited practitioner a little way beyond. 
 I went over there yesterday to see the ruins. It was 
 burnt down on Thursday, the Bear Hotel, the photo- 
 grapher's shop, and pretty nearly the whole village, 
 a hundred houses in aU destroyed, and ever so many 
 
384 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 wretched peasants thrown out into the cold world. 
 It is quite awful. You will never see the Bear Hotel 
 again. They have a railway from Grindelwald to the 
 Wengern Alp, and down again to Lauterbrunnen, so 
 there will be no more pleasant horseback rides across 
 the meadows and down the steep descent upon the 
 other side. 
 
 It has been a lazy week. I tarried in Lucerne until 
 Thursday. The days were hot and lovely. McVickar 
 left me on Tuesday and went to Paris, where he must 
 have been hot and wretched for the last few days. 
 Thursday I took train and came over the Brunig here. 
 Now I am expecting, to-morrow, the 22d, John and 
 Hattie. They are at Lucerne to-day, having reached 
 there last Friday. . . . Their time in Switzerland will 
 not be very long, but I think they have enjoyed every- 
 thing pretty well. You cannot go very wrong in 
 Europe. When they have joined me, I think we shall 
 go to Thun, Berne, Martigny, Tete Noire, Chamounix, 
 Geneva, and so to Paris, where we shall get a few days 
 before it is time to go to London, Liverpool, and the 
 Pavonia. 
 
 These are sad tidings of the riots and fightings in 
 Buffalo and Tennessee. It is good that violence 
 should be put down by military force, but that does 
 not solve the problem of how the great men are to 
 live with the little men, and what is the function of 
 government as regards them both. Only time and 
 events and the slow progress of mankind will settle 
 that. 
 
 Meanwhile, I send you all my dearest love and am 
 Ever and always yours affectionately, P. 
 
CHAMOUNIX. 385 
 
 Hotel d'Anqletbrbe, Chamotinix, 
 
 August 28, 1892. 
 
 Dear William, Mary, Gertrude, Agnes, and 
 ToOD, — This is the last letter I shall write to any of 
 you on this journey, because next Sunday it will be 
 within four days of the sailing of the Pavonia, and it 
 will not be worth while to write. This fun is almost 
 over. John and Hattie joined me last Monday at In- 
 terlaken. 
 
 . . . Tuesday we went to Lauterbrunnen and the 
 Trummelbach, and had a fine, bright, sunshiny day. 
 Wednesday we loafed about Interlaken all the morn- 
 ing, and took the boat and train in the afternoon for 
 Berne by Thun. It was not clear when we reached 
 Berne, so we did not see the great view of the Alps, 
 but saw the bears in their pit. I showed the old 
 woman on the terrace the bear which I bought of her 
 for fifty centimes two years ago and have carried in 
 my pocket ever since, which pleased her simple soul 
 very much indeed, and pleased mine more. She 
 thought it very pretty of me to have taken such fond 
 care of it, and she offered to make it brown and young 
 again for nothing. But I did not want her to do that, 
 and told her I would bring it back again in two years 
 more to see her. 
 
 We went back to the Berner Hof for dinner, and 
 in the evening to a Beer Garden and heard music. 
 Thursday it rained hard, but we came to Martigny by 
 rail, and after we reached there in the afternoon it 
 was pleasant enough for us to take a drive and see the 
 Gorge de Trient. Friday we drove over the T^te 
 Noire. It was a beautiful day, and the views were 
 prettiest and best. Saturday the mountains were as 
 clear as clear could be, so we are lucky. 
 
886 LAST JOURNEY ABROAD. 
 
 An Oxford professor tried to go up Mont Blanc 
 Thursday in the storm, and died of exhaustion. Yes- 
 terday, through the telescope in the hotel yard, we 
 could see them bringing his dead body down over the 
 snow, and I suppose it arrived here late last night. 
 ■ The only high ascent made by our party, and that 
 was entirely successful, was John's going with a mule 
 and a guide to the Montanvert, crossing the Mer de 
 Glace, and coming down by the Mauvais Pas. The 
 journey was accomplished without any accident, and 
 the climber reached the hotel about three o'clock in 
 the afternoon, not much fatigued. 
 
 To-morrow we go to Geneva (Hotel de la Paix), 
 and the next day shall take the long, tiresome ride to 
 Paris ; after that you know about what will happen 
 to us, until you find us in your arms again. . . I am 
 very well indeed, thank you, and shall be glad to see 
 you all again. Yours most affectionately, P. 
 
.-ju,. .7 xTir-"iiiT«S'v«T«l»awt->««faiiil 
 
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