» 
 
 MEMORIES 
 
 SOME OF MANY 
 
 BY 
 
 ANNIE V. FINN 
 
 
r" 
 
 GIFT OF 
 A. F. Morrison 
 
in 
 

 \\.\\ci^ 
 
uiiiiiiiiiiinMiiunniinininiiiiiiinnniHiiiiiiiiiiinHiiiiiiMnniinHininiirHmuiiimiiiHMiniiiiiiiiiniiuriiNmunuriMirHiininiiiuiiHiintnuiniiiiininiiiiiiiMiiniriiniuiiiiMi 
 
 S 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 s 
 s 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 i 
 
 MEMORIES 
 
 SOME OF MANY 
 
 By 
 
 ANNIE V. FINN 
 
 H. S. HOWARD 
 PUBLISHER AND PRINTER 
 
 BERKELEY. CALIFORNIA 
 1920 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 1 
 
 I S 
 
 E s 
 
 auMiummiiimiHmHimiiumiiuiuiNmHmiuiMiiiHiiatHiiuiiinimmnumimniMmmiimimiMUttHHiumiiiHitnHHiiiiimmumimmHimHHiiiHimiiiiim^ 
 
F^7 
 
 GIFT OF ^ 
 
>■ 
 
 c 
 
 TO YOU 
 
 MY 
 BELOVED 
 
 M94364 
 
^^C^c^?^^^^ 
 
iMmmmiMimiiiiiiitimihnimHniimiwinwMiwMitiiHiwiimiwHimiHiHMWWMiitiWMnMMWiHitwwMimHiHitmitwiMiiiBiiiwwwuHiwimimHMHi wH imM W 
 
 JOHN FOWLER FINN 
 
 (July 4, x83«3-~January i, 1913) 
 
 The judiciary of San Francisco was honored, and the social and political 
 life of the city was enriched, during the decade of 1870 and 1880, by the 
 notable and manly citizen who has lately passed away. Judge John F. Finn 
 died at Pasadena, California, on New Year's Day, 1913, at the age of seventy- 
 three. His father, Lawrence Finn, was a New York merchant, of Irish 
 descent, whose place of business was where the Equitable Building on Broad- 
 way now stands. His mother was of English birth and belonged to an old 
 and honorable family of Somersetshire. His father had large interests in the 
 "West Indies and in the summer of 1839 was, with his family, in Cuba, and 
 John was born there. The son's early education was in Brooklyn, New York, 
 where was situate the family home. 
 
 In 1852 the father died, embarrassed in estate, and thereafter the son 
 was compelled to rely upon his own exertions. While still very young he 
 had attained an important place in a mercantile house in New York, but he 
 had such strong desires for the legal profession, in which he was encouraged 
 by his employers, who recognized his talent, that he early began the study of 
 law, completing his education therein by graduating from the Law Depart- 
 ment of Harvard College with the class of 1860, Thereafter he practiced his 
 profession in New York City, in the ofifice of Niles & Bagley, one of the 
 leading firms of lawyers of that city. Soon after establishing himself he was 
 married to a daughter of a family whose ancestors settled in the Mohawk 
 Valley in 1638. His descendants have ever since lived, and still reside, in 
 the ancestral homestead. A more ideal relation of husband and wife that 
 began with this marriage I have never seen. 
 
 In 1864, and shortly after his marriage, he joined his sister and brother in 
 Virginia City, Nevada, and practiced his profession there for a year. In 1865 
 his wife joined him in San Francisco, where he became connected with the^ 
 late Judge E. D. Wheeler. He made a specialty of probate practice and it 
 brought him such a handsome income that early in 1870 he considered him- 
 self justified in taking a vacation. With his wife he traveled in Europe 
 and the Eastern states for a year and a half. Returning to San Francisco he 
 resumed practice and became well known as an honorable, able, and high 
 minded lawyer and good citizen. 
 
 When the new Constitution was adopted in 1879 it did away with the 
 old District Courts and provided for a Superior Court with twelve judges for 
 San Francisco. The manner of the election at one time of twelve judges 
 aroused great interest in the city. A general meeting of the bar was called 
 
iiiiiiiiiininiiiiHiiiiiniHiiiiiiiiinitMiiMiiiinninmiuiniiuninniiuiiuiiuiiiiiiiniuuinniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiHiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiumiuiiminiiiiiiiiiiin 
 
 for the purpose of recommending for the people candidates for the ofHce of 
 judges of the new court. After some discussion it was decided that each 
 law^^^r prQsjjrLt ' sihpuld vote for twelve and that the voting should be by 
 ballot'. Judge "William P. Daingerfield, a most popular judge, and then in- 
 jciiyiibent' of the Twelfth District Court, received the highest number of votes, 
 'but next to him came' John F. Finn. Both were elected by a very large 
 popular vote. The judges had to draw lots for terms and Judge Finn drew 
 the short term of one year. In 1880 he was re-elected for the full term, and 
 again in 1886, by large majorities. He served continuously for thirteen 
 years, but when his third term expired his health was not good and he 
 declined re-election. Since then he continued to regard San Francisco as 
 his home, but spent most of his time abroad. A ripe scholar, a student of 
 history, a connoisseur in art and music, but above all a reader and lover of 
 poetry, his resources of enjoyment were unusually large, while delicate 
 health made the turmoil and stress of active life distasteful. For that reason, 
 although keeping up the liveliest interest in San Francisco and her people and 
 retaining his citizenship therein, he did not return to active work. 
 
 The late Judge J. V. Coffey was an associate of his on the bench and 
 when Judge Finn declined re-election Judge Coffey became his successor in 
 the probate department of the Superior Court. Speaking in open court of 
 the loss he personally felt in the departure of his longtime friend and asso- 
 ciate, Judge Coffey said : "I wish that I might write in imperishable marble 
 my opinion of Judge Finn. His merits entitle him particularly in this 
 tribunal to a perpetual memorial." 
 
 The same Judge, on another occasion said: "I have said many times 
 that Judge Finn's retirement from the Bench was a distinct loss to the public 
 service. His dignity of demeanor, candor, frankness, and sincerity, added to 
 special learning and natural ability; his sympathetic consideration for those 
 in distress, balanced by an innate sense of equity, made him an ideal Judge. 
 For more than two score years I had been observant of these traits, which 
 compelled the respect of all who knew him. Prior to his transfer from the 
 bar to the bench, I had had occasion to note the qualities in him that after- 
 wards in judicial association for years were illustrated in his conduct as a 
 man devoted to duty and fearless in its discharge; seeking truth for its sake 
 alone, and anxious only that justice might be done, and yet always that it 
 be tempered with mercy and apostolic charity. 
 
 "I have often had occasion to regret that Judge Finn had not remained 
 in the position that he so eminently adorned and for which he was so ade- 
 quately equipped by temperament and by education, and all of his brethren 
 who served with him and who survive concur with me. 
 
 "Before the Fire of 1906 I had in the Court House framed a group of 
 the Judges who preceded me in probate, all men worthy of admiration: 
 Judges Blake, Wright, Myrick and Finn. I should like to have those pictures 
 
amimmiiiiiiimmiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiimmiiiiiiiiMnnMiunnininiiinuiniiiiiiiiiiiimnininuniniiinniiiuiiiiitiiinniniinuniiiiiininniinniiiniiniiiniinitiiiirmiiiiiiM 
 
 restored as a reminder to the younger generation of those who in their time 
 have done so much for the profession and the community, none more so than 
 the Honorable John F. Finn, whose memory I shall ever cherish as that of a 
 good citizen, an honest lawyer, and a Judge without stain and without 
 reproach." 
 
 Another associate of Judge Finn, namely, Judge John Hunt, who has 
 been a Judge of the Superior Court since its organization, paid a tribute in 
 open court to his deceased friend, saying: *']udge Finn was not only a well 
 read lawyer, but he was also a ripe scholar. His delicate health made 
 necessary his retirement from the stress of active professional life, but he 
 delighted in the pursuit of literature and thus agreeably occupied the time 
 spent in retirement. He was a man of engaging manners, of untiring 
 industry, and of legal ability. While upon the bench he was engaged in the 
 trial of many important cases, and his judicial learning, probity of character 
 and kindly manner endeared him to all who knew him. He was a lovable 
 man, a generous man, generous without ostentation, but to his compassion 
 no needy hand was ever extended in vain. He had a heart open as day for 
 melting charity. He was gifted with a fine sense of humor ; not the humor the 
 shafts of which are barbed with malice, but a generous, genial and kindly 
 humor, which found expression in brilliant repartee. He was the gentlest 
 of men; cheerful, courteous, brave and self-reliant." 
 
 To those of us who lived and worked in San Francisco during the time 
 that Judge Finn honored us with his presence and friendship his departure 
 is an irreparable loss. WARREN OLNEY. 
 
FROM A PAINTING 
 AT TWO YEARS OF AGE 
 
miiiiiiiiiiiiniiniriiiHiiiiitniiiiiiminiiitiiiiHiiimiiHinniiniiirniinHinmiiiiiMiuiiHimiumiiiiiiiMiiiiiuiHmiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiuHiiiiinnmiittiiiiniiiimiiiiiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiininuiiiMMiniutuiiiHinimiuiuHiiiitiiMiniiiiiiiiiniriMiiiuiimiiiiiiiiiiiitwiiiiHiuiuiHiuiiiiiniiiiiiHriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiuniiiuiiiimiiiuiiuniuiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiii^ 
 
 January, 1914. 
 PART ONE 
 
 UTTERLY cast down and full of "the wild unrest that lives in 
 woe," looking down a vista of years to come, unlighted hy the 
 lamp of love that had burned so brightly for me in the past, 
 unspeakably lonely though with those who were near and dear to me, 
 and to whom I was near and dear, I sat brooding, disconsolate and 
 full of despair. 
 
 I took up a book and opened it by chance at the letter Alexander 
 Dumas fQs wrote to his Father after that Father had passed away 
 from this World. 
 
 "My Dear Father: 
 
 "In the World to which you are gone, does memory survive 
 and retain a recollection of things here below? Or does a second 
 and eternal life exist only in our imagination? Is memory 
 vouchsafed only to those who remain on Earth? Or is it true 
 that the bond of love which has united two souls in this World 
 is an indestructible tie, not to be severed even by death? 
 
 "Wherefore then not knowing where you you are, do I in- 
 dite this letter to you? It is because when we have lost those we 
 love, although they are gone from the place that knew them, 
 they are still and always with us. It is therefore to what is ever 
 with me, within me, that I address this remembrance and this 
 homage which will assuredly reach you wherever you are." 
 
 I had often read the beautiful letter, and now in my sorrow and 
 loss it held for me a deeper meaning in that it expressed so much of 
 my own thought and feeling and put into my mind the idea of 
 writing this book. 
 
 And why should I not address "remembrance and homage" to 
 you, my Beloved? There is comfort in the very thought and mayhap 
 the work will lighten my heavy hours. 
 
 "Remembrance and homage," my heart and soul are full of 
 it ! If I could but give expression to the homage I feel in words that 
 are worthy! If I could but present in fitting form some of the 
 wealth of my remembrance! 
 
 One year has passed since you left me. One year! what a very 
 fragment of time it seemed when my heart was light and my horizon 
 boundless. And now how differently I measvu-e time! The long 
 
 Page Thirteen 
 
iiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiMininniriniiiiiiiinnHiMniMiitininiinniiMniMHiinMiimiininintMnnnniiiniinniiinMininiiinniuinniinitnniiniiiinniiiiniiinniiiiiiiiilimn^^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiimiiiiniimiiiminiimmiiiiiiiiiiniHiiniiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiHimmiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiniiininiNniiiHiiHniiiniiiiiiiiunniiitiiiiiii 
 
 summer days that you so loved have come and gone, and again the 
 inverted season of the year is here, and through that year, in a dazed, 
 unreal way I have lived, hopelessly, helplessly, vainly trying to solve 
 the problem of the re-adjustment of my life. 
 
 'Mirage of the heart and memory" how near it brings that far 
 off day when first me met, a boy and girl on the threshold of life. A 
 few years later we were married and hand in hand we started blithely 
 up the hill. 
 
 O Youth! O Love! O Happiness! O Years! when joy ran a 
 golden thread through all the gray homespun of everyday life. 
 Youth fled but love and happiness endured, and hand in hand we 
 passed over the broad, pleasant table land of middle life, and hand in 
 hand we were journeying down the hill, when suddenly, "glittering 
 and bare the long- veiled hand stretched out of the immutable heavens, 
 claiming that which was Its own." 
 
 O! Heart of my Heart and Soul of my Soul! how did I live 
 through the anguish of that time? Surely grief does not kill, else 
 had I not lived on when all that made life worth living had been 
 taken away, and the brightness and sunshine of existence forever 
 blotted out! 
 
 You were so much a part of me, so woven into my real self 
 that it was like rending asunder my very being to give you up. You 
 were my World! You were my best and truest friend; you were 
 my confidant, the only one I ever had; you were my sunny, phil- 
 osophical comrade; you were my counselor whose advice I could 
 always rely upon; you were my loving, devoted and tender com- 
 panion; you were my all-in-all, the light of my life, yea, the very 
 life of my life and "only God and my own heart know" how lost I 
 am without you. 
 
 Life without you! — ^A World without you! — It seems incred- 
 ible! — It seems impossible! — There is always with me the wild, 
 uncontrollable feeling that you must and will come back, — that I shall 
 again hear your dear voice speak my name in the old, fond way, — 
 that I shall again look in your tender love-lit eyes, — that I shall again 
 feel your dear arms around me and clasp you in mine. I pray God 
 that I may learn to say. Thy will be done, but as yet I cannot. 
 
 A friend tells me that I have had my full share of happiness and 
 should try to forget myself. Forget myself! It is not self pity that 
 oppresses me, but grief at thought of the "pleasing, anxious spirit" 
 that was embodied in you; snatched away from love and light and 
 
 Page Fourteen 
 
iiiiininiiiniiiiniiiinniiiiniinniiinMiMHiiiniiiMiiMiiMniiiinninininiiiniuwininiiiimiiiiiinMiMnnniiniiiinininMiinuNuiiiiuiiiiiniuiniiiiiiiiinniniiiiiuiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiininiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiniiniiiiiuiinniiMiiiiuiiiuiMnniiinniiirMniiriiiiiiiiininiiHiiiiiininiiiiiiiiiMniininrniiiinuinHiuMinniiininuininiuiiiuiiiiuiiiiiiiiniiiiuiniitiiiiiiiuiinMiiinniiiiiiuiinuin 
 
 warmth, and the sweet, fresh air that you so loved, — from the "warm 
 precincts of the genial day," and a World that was so beautiful to 
 you. 
 
 That I grieve because your tender, loving heart is still and cold, 
 and that none shall ever again hear the greeting of your voice, or feel 
 the friendly clasp of your hand, — that your generous nature, your 
 active, eager mind, your interesting, attractive personality no longer 
 exist, — that you, my Beloved, are no more to be numbered among 
 men! 
 
 It is Nature, but oh, how cruel and terrible Nature is in doing 
 her allotted work! How can we resign ourselves to it? Accept it 
 without murmuring? Submit, and say — It is well! 
 
 To be given this pleasant, familiar thing that we call life ! To be 
 placed in a world full of beauty, of interest, and of charm! To be 
 given the senses to enjoy, and the intelligence to appreciate! To be 
 given affections! To love, and be loved, and then, heralded, or un- 
 heralded, comes the Shadow that has been waiting — 
 
 "Dreaded of man, and surnamed the Destroyer;" 
 
 and the dear body so cared for and watched over ; the warm, sentient, 
 pulsating body lies unresponsive, and motionless and lifeless, and the 
 tender, cherished Earthly ties forever severed. 
 
 I thank God my Beloved that you were not first bereft of me. 
 That you were not the one called upon to bear the anguish of sepa- 
 ration, — ^to know, 
 
 "The hunger and thirst of the heart. 
 The frenzy and fire of the brain." 
 
 To and from your resting place I go and come, a lonely com- 
 rade wrapt in dreams, struggling with the phantoms of imagination, 
 the phantoms of fear and doubt. 
 
 Flowers bloom around you; above you, birds sing in the tree 
 tops, and the waving branches set the shadows dancing on the 
 greensward beside you ; the piping quail, followed by their little brood, 
 run to cover as I pass. Human sorrow, human loneliness, human 
 helplessness set against the careless joy of nature that takes no note 
 of loss and separation; but the sacrifice of earthly possession is not 
 separation. "There is only one separation and that is when the heart 
 turns away and memory forgets." Memory! That is now my life! 
 Memory of the happiness we had in living in and for one another 
 through so many years in that blessed World of Two ! 
 
 Page Fifteen 
 
■iiiiiniiiiiiiininuimniiinMiuiiMiiiiiumiiiMriiMiiiiiiitiiininirimiuiiuuHuiiwHnHiinHiiniiHuiiiiiiiiMiiMi»HiiirniiMHminiMiiHiminiiiHiiiiiiiminiitiiriiniiM 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 mnimiiniiiiHiinumuiHiiiiiuiiinMiiiiiiuinirHmimiiiiiriinmmmnniuuwiimimiiMiiiuniiiiinnuiinmiiiiiiiiiinHiniiiiiitniinininiiniiiiiiHUiiiiiniiiiuiiiiiiniiniHU 
 
 Oh, that World of Two ! That wonderful and beautiful relation- 
 ship between two people whom God has joined together! There is 
 something almost divine, in the complete surrender of one human 
 heart to another, and the faith and trust and devotion that go with it! 
 Perfect faith, perfect trust, and love stronger than death! Two 
 beings, yet one in their joys and sorrows, their hopes and aspirations, 
 their desires and sympathies. Children following the order of nature 
 sooner or later find, 
 
 "A dearer one 
 Still, and a nearer one 
 Yet than all other." 
 
 But Husband and Wife! as the years pass, growing closer and 
 closer in thought and sympathy; ever nearer, ever dearer; ever need- 
 ing each the other more and more. Husband and Wife! for richer 
 for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, — forsak- 
 ing all others, — till death do us part. 
 
 When Lady Scott passed away, Sir Walter wrote in his diary, 
 "She is sentient, and conscious of my emotions, somewhere, somehow 
 — where, we cannot tell — how we cannot tell, yet would I not 
 renounce the mysterious, yet certain, hope that I shall see her in a 
 better World, for all this World could give me." 
 
 So often I feel, my Beloved, that you must he conscious of my 
 emotions; — and I do believe that we shall meet again, and that the 
 tender, invisible bond that held us so closely together on Earth is not 
 forever broken. Here, my happiness was the aim of your life and the 
 wish of your heart, and now! can you give me no sign? No word to 
 quiet the wild unrest and questioning that ever besets me; until I cry 
 out with Tennyson, 
 
 "Oh Christ that it were possible. 
 
 For one short hour to see 
 The souls we loved, that they might tell us 
 
 What, and where they be." 
 
 Tennyson had no doubt concerning immortality. 
 
 "Believing where we cannot prove." 
 
 No, we cannot prove; but who is there that can disprove? Even 
 though the future be held forever in the realm of speculation and 
 mystery. That unfathomable mystery ! The flight of the spirit when 
 the body is left untenanted! Through all time, since the first 
 
 Page Sixteen 
 
'OiiuiNiiiiiiiinmiiniiiiniiMiiiinimiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiMmimiiiimiiHuiMiiMiiiMiniiiiiiiiiiiiitMiiniiniiirniiinnininiiniiiiniiniiiiiininiuin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 amniiiniiiHiHiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiumniiiuiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiniiMuiiiiiiiiiiininiJniiMiiitnituuinininiiiJiiMniiMiiiinnniniiniinnjniiiiniiiniiiMinnnininHininniMHnMJMiniiii^ 
 
 mourner bent in grief over a beloved body, the mystery has remained 
 unsolved. Followers of different religions, of philosophy, theosophy, 
 mysticism and occultism, all indulging. 
 
 "This pleasing hope, this fond desire, 
 This longing after immortality." 
 
 All asking the question that remains forever unanswered, "What, and 
 where, they be." 
 
 If that exists for which we aU hope and through faith believe, 
 I have no fear for you. You were, 
 
 "Perplexed in faith, but pure in deeds," 
 
 "There is more faith in honest doubt. 
 Believe me, than in half your creeds." 
 
 And in the words of the Psalmist you went "with clean hands 
 and a pure heart." You know the secret that in time we shall all 
 know. You have solved the mystery that sooner or later we all shall 
 solve. You have gone on the journey from which none ever return. 
 
 What is the secret. Dear? And what the mystery. I have my 
 hours of fear and dread and doubt — dark, dark hours; and then, 
 thank God, faith comes, the clouds vanish, and through the eyes of 
 faith I see the journey that you have made, and the end. 
 
 "It is but crossing with a bated breath 
 A narrow strip of sea, 
 To find the loved one waiting on the shore." 
 
 "There was the Door to which I found no key; 
 There was the Veil through which I might not see." 
 
 So sang the Persian poet eight hundred years ago. Today many 
 active, earnest workers of the Society for Psychical Research claim 
 that the door is open and the veil rent asunder ; that communication is 
 being held with those who have gone before, to the spirit World; 
 that memory and affection are not limited to here, and now ; and that 
 in the continuity of existence, intelligence and personality survive. 
 
 Surely if there is joy in Heaven, memory and affection, and 
 personality must survive; for who could conceive a Heaven without 
 remembrance, and love, and personahty of the Dear Ones gone 
 before. 
 
 Page Seventeen 
 
tllMIMIIUIIIIMIIHIHHIIIinillHIIHIIIIIIHIIIHinillHHIIIIIIIinillllNHIHIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHNHIIIIHHtHIIIHHHI<miHIIIMHn»«IHIHIimiHIHHIHIHHIIIIHHmWHHHHIHHI^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 uiiiiiiiiiiiiinHHiiiniiiiiiniiiMiiniiiinitiiiniiMiiiitiinimiiMniiiiimiiiiiiniiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiininiHHiiiiHiHiHHiniiiiinmininiMiiiniHiiHMiHiHiiiiHmHiHMiii^^ 
 
 Sir Oliver Lodge, one of the foremost workers in Psychical Re- 
 search, writes: "A bodj'' of responsible investigators has even now 
 landed on the treacherous, but promising shores of the new Continent, 
 not through occultism, or mysticism, but through methods of science." 
 
 We wait and watch, and long to know if human endeavor work- 
 ing along the lines of science in Psychical Research, will succeed in 
 laying bare, the secret God has kept for His very own since first He 
 created man. 
 
 "I have a room where into no one enters. 
 Save I, myself, alone; 
 There sits a blessed memory on a throne; 
 There, my life centers." 
 
 And there I weave warm, tender memories around you and the 
 past. In that room I feel your presence, — I hear your merry laugh 
 as we recalled amusing incidents, — I hear j^our voice and bantering 
 words as you try to defend yourself against my jealousy! Yes, my 
 actual jealousy of your fondness for books! Oh those hours! What 
 hours they were! And books, books, books, how you delighted in 
 books! Of late years you reproached yourself for the desultory 
 character of j^our reading, but it gave you a great fund of general 
 information that was very interesting. 
 
 In that room I think of the keen enjojTnent we took in just the 
 simple, everyday things of everyday life that made the very joy of 
 existence. 
 
 The pleasant intercourse with friends and relatives, and the 
 interest, activities and distractions of the city of our choice and our 
 adoption. The enjoyment that each season of the year brought in 
 turn. The coming of spring, the wild flowers, and the blossoming 
 fruit trees. The brightness of a summer day with fleecy clouds drift- 
 ing over an azure sky. Murmuring brooks, and swift, rushing 
 streams. The song of birds, green fields, waving grain and the 
 shade of trees. Flowers blooming in the gardens and the rustle of 
 dancing leaves overhead. The crescent moon, the planets and the 
 silvery stars, and over and above all, the rich inheritance of being 
 alive and together, to share in the beauty and wonder of it all. Oh, 
 the World was very beautiful and wonderful to us! The warm, 
 bright World, so full of life and of love! 
 
 In that room — dreaming in my waking hours — as boy and girl 
 we walk beneath the blossoming orchard trees ; or tread with lingering 
 
 Page Eighteen 
 
i«iMiiiMnnnmHiiiiiiriiniMMnuMiiiMiniiMiiiniiiinni(iiMiiiHiiimHiniHiiiiHHUiniimiiiiiiiiiiiiiitunnHiiMMiiiniiriniiiiHi)iiHiMii»uii<nHiiuiiiiiiHiiniuiHiiiriHiiNiiiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 itiiiiiiMiiHHrMniiiiiiiiniiMiiiniiHiiiiiiinMiiiHiniiiiuiiMiininiiumMiiiiiHiiiiHininiiiMHiiHininimiiiinniiimiiiiniiiiiituMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiwHiHmHiiiiiiiiim 
 
 steps a path beside red clover fields, gathering sweet-briar roses from 
 the bordering hedge, and stems of ripe, red strawberries from the 
 grass beneath; while overhead the bobolinks fly and sing, — fly and 
 sing. 
 
 In that room, I roam with you through many lands. We stand 
 together on lofty mountain tops; we walk on the beautiful shore of 
 a tideless sea; we thread the aisles of dim Cathedrals; we stroll in 
 quaint market places, and on strange, crowded city streets. We hear 
 again — 
 
 "The Alpine torrents roar. 
 The mule bells tinkling down the bridle paths of Spain, 
 The sea at Elsinore." 
 
 In that room, I render thanks to the Giver of all good, for per- 
 mitting us to enjoy so much together, both at home and abroad. The 
 masterpieces of painting and sculpture, of music and architecture, 
 and the work of that greatest of all Masters! — Nature! 
 
 Someone has said that the only way to measure and estimate the 
 worth and strength of a life, is by the afterglow it leaves behind, and 
 so it is that as time passes, and I see the afterglow of your life, my 
 Beloved, ever deepening, and glowing with brighter colors, I realize 
 more and more, the worth and strength of your nature, your char- 
 acter, and your life. 
 
 Chance and fortune were never prodigal with you, but you took 
 gratefully whatever little good they gave, and never allowed yourself 
 to be disturbed by what you had missed. How often I have heard 
 you quote the lines of Burns, 
 
 "Not for to hide it in a hedge. 
 Not for a train attendant. 
 But for the glorious privilege 
 Of being independent." 
 
 You were so thankful to be independent! Arid only wished for 
 means beyond independence, that you might give more freely to 
 those who needed help. You felt such catholic sympathy for poor, 
 unfortunate humanity! 
 
 "For the low, and the humble. 
 The weary, the broken in heart;" 
 
 Page Nineteen 
 
riiiiMMiiiiiriniinrMriiiiKniiinininiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiimimimiiMiiiuiniiiiiiiMiiMimimtMiiiiimiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iriiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiitiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiniiiniiiiiiiiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiimiiimuiiiiiniiuinniMniiirininiiiiiiiiiiiiinMniuiiniiiHiMiiiiiiniiiiiimnimiiiiiinmiiMUiiniiiiiniiiiiiiniiHitHiHniituniinniniiiinnHiiiniiiinHiinniiiMiiiiiuiiiiHiMii 
 
 Handicapped through Hfe by a dehcate constitution, with 
 attacks of illness, often of a painful and serious nature, yet always 
 in answer to my sympathy and anxiety you would say, "It might 
 be worse;" and when in the last few months your dear eyes failed, 
 and the pleasure of reading was taken from you, how bravely and 
 nobly you bore the affliction. Seeing my heart so torn with pity, in 
 cheerful tones, you often said, "It might be worse; not every one so 
 afflicted has a dear companion always ready to read or write, and so 
 long as I can see your face I shall not complain." 
 
 Ah me! The memory of those precious, blessed months! The 
 fear lest you should tax me too severely; your brave, philosophical 
 spirit that rose to noble heights against a threatened affliction, that I 
 had often heard you say, was the greatest that could befall mankind! 
 
 And here let me write down what I knew you to be ; Singularly 
 free from envy; never imputing unworthy motives, and always 
 putting the best construction upon the actions of others; easily hurt 
 yourself, and full of regret, if you thought that by hasty or pas- 
 sionate speech you had hurt another; true and loyal in friendship; 
 generous and charitable in judgment; fair, and just, and upright, 
 the tery soul of honor in all your dealings with men, and affairs; 
 sincere in purpose; conscientious in duty and allegiance; never fol- 
 lowing the temptations and by-ways of expediency; proud, sensitive, 
 and self-respecting ; dignified, direct, and serious, yet mth a fine sense 
 of humor; never striving after place, or position, or social influence; 
 honest and courageous in conviction, with sympathy and toleration 
 for all. Such, is my all too unworthy tribute to you, my Beloved! to 
 you, from one who knew you as no other could, your faults and your 
 virtues ! To you, from one who feels that your friends might honestly 
 and truthfully say of you, what Carlyle said of a friend: "I never 
 knew a finer, tenderer, more sensitive, or more modest soul, among 
 the sons of men." 
 
 Page Twenty 
 
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii i> iiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitMiiiiritiiiiiiiiimniii iiiiii iiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiimiitiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiitiiii niiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiii iiimiiiiiiiiiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aiiiinirniiiniiiMuiiiiiiniiniiiiinnniiiininiiniiuimiiiiniiiiiiiitniiiiuniiniiHiiiiHiiiiiriiiiiMiiiiniiiniiiimnuiuimiiiinuMiininnininiiunnnniiiininiiiinmiiiniuiiinHtii^ 
 
 PART TWO 
 
 A ND NOW, Dear Heart of mine, let us put aside for a while all 
 ZA sadness and sorrow, and go together over some of the scenes and 
 experience of that happy past of long ago. How often you 
 have laughed at what you called my "ever-ready pencil" with which I 
 dotted down impressions and events whenever or wherever we 
 strayed from our familiar surroundings. Now by the help of that 
 ever-ready pencil and the magic of memory, the scenes and experi- 
 ence of that far away past become as fresh and vital as those of 
 recent years, and I have, as it were, "collected the scattered embers 
 that lie on the hearth of memory" and fanned them into life. 
 
 Heredity, the pleasant experience of childhood, and an eager, 
 active, observing mind, all combined to foster in you a strong desire 
 for travel, and so it naturally followed that so soon as you had saved 
 a little money, you should think of enlarging your horizon by jour- 
 neying somewhere. The Hawaiian Islands were nearest and promised 
 most, and one June day, on the Steamer Idaho, with Captain Floyd 
 of pleasant memory in command, we sailed for Honolulu. 
 
 That voyage, the first of so many we were to make together, was 
 over a smooth, summer sea, where schools of porpoises and flying fish 
 interested us by day, and at night under the star-lit sky we would 
 watch for hours the silvery wake made by our vessel through the 
 phosphorescent water, and trace constellations with the valuable aid 
 of our genial, friendly Captain. 
 
 On the morning of the twelfth day the picturesque mountains 
 of the Island of Oahu came in sight. In good time we rounded 
 Diamond Head and the Idaho was warped to her berth in a most 
 primitive way by oxen and a windlass. 
 
 Wreaths of flowers — leis — were flung about the necks of all the 
 passengers as they stepped on a wharf crowded with natives. You 
 quickly rid yourself of the foolishness but I wore mine until we got 
 into a carriage. 
 
 You were familiar with tropical countries, but for me what a 
 fairy land of enchantment it was! The intense blue of sea and sky, 
 the rich, luxuriant unknown vegetation, the strange fruits, the wealth 
 of tropical flowers, the houses with broad verandas latticed and 
 screened by flowering vines and shaded by flowering trees, the natives, 
 handsome bare-footed men, bare-footed women and girls in loose, 
 bright colored garments, with wreaths of flowers on their heads, and 
 garlands of flowers around their shoulders — they were everywhere. 
 
 Page Twenty-one 
 
MHIIimmiHIHHHIIH»HNIIIWIimiHIHHHimHH»HlimHimHltMimiHKHHNIimHHIHimMIHIIIIHHinHNIWIHHimlMm>mHHmHHHHMIHIIHHIIHmHmHHWm 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 nHIIHIIIHnHHHIHIIMUMIHItlimHIIUHMHHIIinHHinHI)HIIMMIMMMIIHmilllllUHtHniUIHIIIIIHIIIIIIIHIHIIIiniHllllimHIIIIIIMHHNIIIIIHIIIMMIMIIIIiniMllllnllMlimlHIHII»IIIIIIIIH 
 
 full of animation, chattering and laughing like children, while others 
 similarly bedecked were riding through the streets, sitting astride their 
 horses, with the vivid hued, voluminous, picturesque saddle cloths 
 streaming out behind, and riding with the dash and fearlessness of 
 Hussars. 
 
 There were no hotels in Honolulu, and it was our good fortune 
 to have been recommended to a boarding house where we were excel- 
 lently well cared for, and where we met many charming people; not 
 only those in residence there, but others who came to call, among the 
 latter being the gracious, amiable, deservedly popular Queen Enmia. 
 
 Our kindhearted landlady was zealous in her wish that we should 
 taste and enjoy all the products of the country, and the variety put 
 upon her table during our stay, particularly of fruits, could only be 
 understood and appreciated by those who had themselves visited that 
 favored land. 
 
 This good lady's family consisted of a daughter and a son, then 
 in his early manhood, who later became a multi-millionaire, and has 
 but recently passed over to the majority. 
 
 At the time of which I write, I doubt if there could anywhere 
 have been found, in a small population, so many kindly disposed, 
 warm-hearted, hospitable people as were numbered among the resi- 
 dents of Honolulu. Visitors were few, and those who were at all 
 acceptable were made the excuse for every form of delightful enter- 
 tainment. We had carried two letters of introduction to prominent 
 families, and both letters brought us charming, cordial people with 
 invitations to an eleven o'clock breakfast. These breakfasts were 
 each served on a secluded veranda, embowered in vines and flowers, 
 and were so perfect in every detail and appointment, and made so 
 delightful by bright and interesting conversation, that the memory of 
 them never faded quite away. In both cases the ready response to a 
 letter introducing two young people without fortune or position was 
 not only a kindness but a real compliment, particularly as the first 
 invitation was followed by others, and during our entire stay these 
 genial people made frequent calls, often bringing something espe- 
 cially fine in the way of fruits or flowers. 
 
 For an afternoon's entertainment croquet parties were much in 
 favor, with refreshments after the exciting games were over, or per- 
 haps partaken of during a sudden shower of rain. And there were 
 dancing parties given in charming homes, where on verandas, and in 
 the grounds Chinese lanterns glowing amid the bloom of brilliant 
 flowers made a veritable fairyland. Indoors the rooms were festooned 
 
 Page Twenty-two 
 
OIIIWIIHHIHIIHHUHIIIllWIIHmiHIHIHHIHHIIIIIIIIIIIHmHHIinmlHIWHHmmHWIHHHIHIIIimilMIIIIHmilinillHHmHimiHIIIIUIIUnHIIIIHIUIIHHmUHIIHI^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 MlnillimilMIHIHHHIIUIIIIIIIUIHUIIMIHIIIIIUIMHIIiniUIMIMIMHMIIIMIHIIIHtmillHUIIHIIMIIIIIIIIIIIHIHIIIIIIIIIHIMIIIIIIIirNIMIIIIIIIHIUIIHHIMItlHIIIH 
 
 with flowers closely strung together, white, alternating with some 
 vivid color, and as the ropes of white were composed of stephanotis, 
 tuberoses, and double Cape jasmine the languorous air soon became 
 overladen with perfume. Refreshments were enjoyed at will. Delic- 
 ious, cooling drinks, fruit salads, ices, and a variety of dainty, delicate 
 confections. 
 
 One glorious night when the moon was at the full, Captain 
 Floyd gave a reception on the Idaho, proving himself an ideal host, 
 and the staunch, little steamer (his castle for the time) with flags 
 and bunting, lights and flowers, music and dancing was a place of 
 enchantment. 
 
 Excursions of every kind were made on horseback, and for visits, 
 ceremonious calls, and responding to invitations a light Victoria 
 generally drawn by one horse was used. It was all very simple and 
 delightfully pleasant ; far removed from the Honolulu of today. 
 
 Passing away with the old order of things, there must have gone 
 much of that whole hearted kindness and disposition to befriend the 
 stranger that made our visit such a delight to remember. Every day 
 we had some evidence of this kindness and disposition. From many 
 instances I have selected one. A party of four ladies and two gentle- 
 men were going from our house by invitation to visit friends who 
 lived on their large sugar-cane plantation twenty miles away. To our 
 great surprise it was suggested that we join the party. 
 
 At first we would not listen to it. It was impossible! Go to 
 the home of strangers to spend a night with a party that already 
 numbered six? But every one of the six declared there would 
 be plenty of room and vouched for the welcome we would re- 
 ceive. Every objection we made was overruled, with the result 
 that on the following day eight horses stood in front of the 
 house, ready for a start, instead of six, and tied on the back of each 
 saddle was a small waterproof roll, containing articles necessary for 
 the night. Many of the party owned their horses; the others rode 
 those reserved for their exclusive use. Of the two extra mounts, the 
 one with the side-saddle intended for me was a handsome, spirited 
 animal that you had been assured was perfectly safe. 
 
 We were scarcely beyond the outskirts of the town when I be- 
 came aware of an occasional action or motion of my horse, such as I 
 had never before experienced, that gave me a feeling of insecurity in 
 the saddle and made me nervous and uncomfortable. I mentioned it 
 to the lady riding beside me. At once came the suggestion that we 
 change horses. She was riding her own gentle, reliable horse. She 
 
 Page Twenty-three 
 
imiiiiHiNniiuuiiiiHiiniiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiMiiniiiiiiiiHiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiniininniiniiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiim 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 AIIIIIIIIUUIIIIIIIIIIIMillllllllllllllllllMIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIMMIIIIItlMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIirilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllinilllll 
 
 would consider it a favor as she envied me the mount I was on, and 
 the change might mean for me the diflFerence between enjoyment and 
 discomfort all the long way. She soon discovered a suitable place 
 and unobserved by those in advance, we made the exchange. We 
 were riding rapidly to join the party and had almost reached them, 
 when, like a flash, I saw my companion thrown into the air over her 
 horse's head and lying motionless by the roadside; explaining later 
 that for a time she did not know what had happened to her. 
 
 At my cry of distress every one turned back, and amid intense 
 excitement, before any one could reach her, to the great relief of all, 
 she sprang hghtly up declaring she was not in the least hurt, nor was 
 she. Being a fine rider, resting only her toe in the stirrup, she had a 
 clean, clear throw from the back of a bucking horse. I, always rid- 
 ing with my foot thrust far in the stirrup might not have fared so 
 well. 
 
 When you heard it was my horse that had made the trouble you 
 were excited enough! You declared no life or limb should be en- 
 dangered by riding the brute again! You would tie him to a tree to 
 be sent for, ride back for a carriage to take me home, and the party 
 must continue on their way. 
 
 While you talked and were argued with, the Captain of the 
 party had put his saddle upon the bucker — quietly nibbling grass by 
 the roadside — the side-saddle upon his own horse, seated the lady who 
 liad been thrown, and springing to his saddle, announced, ''the caval- 
 cade will now proceed/^ There was some fun at your expense, but 
 you were well pleased with the result and again we were off. 
 
 We were now in the Nuuanu Valley. On both sides lovely 
 vine and flower-covered homes, with gardens of bloom, under beauti- 
 ful, flowering trees. As the road ascended vegetation became less 
 luxuriant and homes fewer. Rocks and boulders appeared on the hill- 
 sides and tiny rills fringed with ferns trickled down the banks. 
 
 More and more the valley narrowed, and sharper and higher 
 became the points of rock until the Pali was reached and the wonder- 
 fully beautiful view opened before us. An enthusiast has called it, 
 one of the grandest, most superbly spectacular views on earth. Back 
 of us, and on either side, perpendicular rocks with domes and peaks 
 and pinnacles towered hundreds of feet above us, and before us a 
 sheer drop of one thousand feet to the broad plain below, where 
 pretty toy looking homes stood in the midst of a beautiful verdure; 
 sugar-cane, groves of bananas, shade and fruit trees. Along the 
 coast a fringe of cocoanut palms, then a long line of white surf 
 
 Page Twenty -four 
 
miMimiiriiunHininiMiniiiinninMnMiuuiMiMiniiuiuniiHiiniuMiiiniHiniiiuimiiiHHiiinnMiNriHiiiiiniimniiiiiiitiiHiiinMiinniinnHiiiniiiinmHminiiiiMiiiMuiiniuiiiiinniiniii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 winniiiuiimiHiniiiiiuiiiiHMUiiiiiinininiMiMiiNnniiiNnMiininiiiiiiininiiiiiinniniiiNinnniNnmiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniuiHiniiiiMniMiiiinuniiniiiimmiwiiininiiiiiii^ 
 
 breaking over the coral reef and beyond, the blue waters of the 
 Pacific. 
 
 We were told that our destination lay many miles away over the 
 plain below and that the road to reach it, was down the face of the 
 cliiF on which we were standing. It was a frightfully steep trail with 
 sharp turns and curves, and as we watched the first horse and rider 
 begin the descent it did seem an extremely hazardous undertaking, 
 and so it was. We were started one after another with a space of 
 several feet between us, so that accident to one might not involve 
 another. Gradually as the distance to the plain below diminished 
 the feeling of danger wore off, but you and I, Dear Heart, freely 
 and frankly admitted that we were thankful to stand in safety on the 
 plain. Of the eight horses that went down the perilous trail that day 
 none was so completely without any trace of nervousness, so sure of 
 foot and certain of step, and did the trying work so patiently as the 
 bucking horse. We took a long rest, and gave the horses a breathing 
 spell with loosened girths and then rode on over the garden-like ex- 
 panse. 
 
 When we were within a half mile or so of our destination two 
 of the party increased their speed (you and I surmised to prepare the 
 way for us) which was done with tact and thoughtfulness, for when 
 we alighted from our horses, without any formal introduction, the host 
 and hostess came to us in the most cordial and natural manner, called 
 us by name, and said they were glad we had come. 
 
 The house was immense, low, rambling and picturesque. Inside, 
 the passageways were labyrinths of twists and turns as they led to 
 rooms built on when needed or as fancy dictated. Such was the room 
 assigned to us, spacious and charming with windows on three sides 
 well screened by vines that were masses of bloom. 
 
 It was a merry party and we felt very much at home within it. 
 There were a number of young people in the house, members of the 
 family and their friends, and in the evening on the broad veranda 
 they sang the plaintive, rather monotonous Hawaiian music to the 
 accompaniment of ukuleles. 
 
 The following morning we were all early astir. After breakfast 
 we went to see the activities of the large plantation. Sugar-cane 
 being cut, loaded on wagons and carried to the crushing mill. A 
 large vegetable garden where we found peas, beans, asparagus, 
 lettuce, sweet potatoes, melons, pineapples and strawberries, a luxury 
 the Chinaman in charge said he could furnish every day in the year. 
 Then came a long row of picturesque grass huts for the Natives 
 
 Page Twenty-five 
 
•MmiiiiiiimHnHiiNiiiuiiiHiHimiiinm)miiiHimiiiHmH«imiimmuiiimHiiiiiHiHiHiHHiimiHii>HiHniiHiHHHiHmNHtMm>H«HHHiHUHHWN«mwNHHWHMm«wm<um 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 a)iiiiiMiiiiHiiuiiiii»iiiiHHiHinniniiiiiiiniMinmnimuitHuiiniHmmiiiiuHiiHniiiHiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiMiiHiniiHiiimMHiiiii»iHH»iiHiHUitMitiMiiuiHuuiHHiHiiiuiiiiiiiHiitMHii^^ 
 
 employed, and farther on a grove of cocoanut trees of unusual size 
 running from sixty to seventy feet in height, and to see the small 
 Kanakas go up those tall trees with the ease of monkeys to bring 
 down the nuts was an interesting sight to me. When they had 
 reached the very top the amusing part of the performance took place. 
 They would hang suspended by their hands for a moment and then 
 by an upward twist of their lithe little bodies would bring their heels 
 down upon the clusters of nuts, and kicking with all their might, 
 down would come the cocoanuts in showers, brown and green, ripe 
 and unripe. 
 
 After luncheon this delightful visit came to an end. Adieus 
 were said and our little cavalcade started for home. The climb at the 
 Pali was not so nerve racking as the descent had been, but it was 
 trying enough to make two of the party glad when again the Nuuanu 
 Valley was reached. The excursion had been delightful and we were 
 grateful for the kindness that had made us sharers in it. 
 
 The bucking horse made many unsuccessful attempts to throw 
 his rider, and was returned to his owner with a sharp reprimand. 
 
 At the time we were planning to visit the volcano we learned 
 that the small steamer, by which we expected to reach Hilo was dis- 
 abled, and laid up somewhere undergoing repairs. No one knew when 
 she would again be in Honolulu. 
 
 A captain, who with his family made his home in the house 
 where we were, and who owned, and sailed a seventy-ton schooner 
 between ports of the different islands, hearing of our disappointment, 
 told us that if we could put up with such accommodations as he could 
 offer, he would gladly carry us to Hilo, adding that he would give 
 us his cabin. 
 
 We accepted gladly and gratefully as to transportation, but 
 demurred as to the cabin; however the Captain settled the matter 
 saying the trip was short and he would find the means of making 
 himself comfortable. 
 
 Two days later at an early hour, escorted by the Captain, with 
 all the household assembled on the porch to wish us "bon voyage" 
 we set off gaily for the "Fanny" named for the wife and daughter 
 of the Captain. 
 
 We found the little deck swarming with natives, men, women, 
 children and dogs. Many of the women wore wreaths and garlands 
 of flowers and all had mats, calabashs of poi, dried fish and bananas. 
 
 The dear good Captain! He never knew how our hearts sank 
 when we looked into the cabin! The cabin that we had so hesitated 
 
 Page Twenty-six 
 
>imillWmHlimiNmH»HIWtlllHIHI»IMIUmilllHHimHIIIIIIIIH»IUIIUHUHimWWHIHIWIHMMmtMHINIUmHIHHIWIimmmHiMHmi»WH<HUmiH»HimiHHHIIMNtHMHHI»HHIIHHHm( 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 ilHHIIIUMIMIIIIIIIUWinHUUIIIIHUUniiniHinnilHIIIItlllllllUIIMHmHUIHIUIIIHHHHNIIIIUIIIMIIIIUIUIItUIUIIHIiniUIHIIIIIIIIIHHHIIWNIIIIIIMIIHIIIIIIHKHHMIIIIHHIMIItMH^^ 
 
 to rob him of and where the few necessary articles for our trip were 
 already deposited. At the bottom of a short flight of steep steps was 
 a mite of a room, made between the decks. A narrow table about six 
 feet long with a bench upon one side took up nearly all the floor 
 space. On both sides, slightly above the level of the table was a berth, 
 and here it was that the Captain and mate ate and slept. There was 
 no light or air except what came down the narrow stairway. 
 
 After a hurried inspection, we forgot the cabin in the interest 
 and excitement of getting off, as helped by a brisk and favoring 
 wind we went spinning over the blue, sparkling water. 
 
 In our honor the Captain had provisioned his larder with all 
 sorts of delicacies, and with him, we had our lunch on deck, you and 
 I, under umbrellas, to the great amusement of the natives who kept 
 advancing upon us, in spite of the protests of the mate, and when we 
 were fairly hemmed in, the Captain stood up and shouted at them, 
 while the mate, and the cook, and the little cabin boy brandishing any 
 article they could lay their hands on, drove them back near the rail. 
 This little play proved a great diversion to our good-natured, chatter- 
 ing fellow passengers, and it was enacted many times while we were 
 together on the deck of that little schooner. 
 
 "We are going to make a record trip," the Captain said glee- 
 fully, as we finished our lunch and he went about his duties. But 
 alas! toward the close of the afternoon the sails began to droop and 
 flap, and soon we lay "as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean" 
 save for the horrible swell on which our little schooner lifted and 
 sank, lifted and sank with sickening monotony. For thirty-six hours 
 we lay becalmed upon that glassy sea; no life or movement in the 
 air, and not a ripple on the water. I sought the seclusion of the 
 little cabin, but the want of air drove me back to the open. Then the 
 good Captain had the mattresses brought up and our beds made upon 
 the deck, where I lay during those long hours, a prey to most help- 
 less and persistent sea sickness, which neither your solicitude, nor the 
 Captain's kindness could alleviate. A tarpaulin was brought, oh, the 
 smell of it! raised in the middle and made into a kind of tent, as 
 protection against the tropical sun, and the frequent tropical showers. 
 At night when rain fell, under cover of the darkness that came with 
 it, it took the Captain and all the crew, to keep the poor drenched 
 natives from crawling under our shelter; but the showers though 
 violent were of short duration, and when the sky cleared, and the 
 tarpaulin was thrown back, it was an experience never to be forgotten, 
 to lie on the little deck beneath that wonderful canopy — star gemmed 
 
 Page Twenty-seven 
 
4iiiiniiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitmiuimiiiiiiiiiiiinuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniinin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 itiiiiiiiiiiiii riiMiiitimMiMiMiniuiiMiiiiinniiinntiiHiiiiriiniiiiiiiiiiHmiiiiiiiiimriniiiiiiiiiiiiiiHinimiiinninmiiniiiiniiiinnniiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiniiMninHnmMuiiniiMMiiinnimniiiH 
 
 and flooded with silvery moonlight, and around us in perfect calm the 
 illimitable ocean! It was, you said, like being in touch with the very 
 mysteries of the universe ! 
 
 On the second day "the dawn wind that calls the sun" blew fresh 
 and strong. At once all was bustle and activity, and soon the white 
 sails of the "Fanny" were unfurled, fluttered, filled, and she was 
 off" like a bird. The tarpauHn was discarded, the mattresses sent 
 below, and the Captain sent the cook to the galley to hurry up break- 
 fast of which I was sorely in need; and what a jovial little party we 
 were as we ate our morning meal, and watched the play of gorgeous 
 reds and purples in that tropical sunrise. Then the Captain took his 
 reckoning and found that while lying becalmed, we had steadily 
 drifted in the direction for which we were bound, so that the time was 
 not entirely lost. 
 
 The day was long and uneventful. We sat until midnight on the 
 deck and then went below to the little cabin. The rapiditj^ of our 
 motion forced enough air for comfort down the stairway, and the 
 poor little despised cabin became a welcome harbor of refuge, for the 
 proximity of so many noisy Kanakas began to wear upon us. 
 
 The following day we hailed with delight a dark line on the 
 horizon that the Captain told us was the island of Hawaii. For hours 
 we sailed along the beautiful shores, so near that we could see a suc- 
 cession of white cascades gleaming amidst the dark, rich foliage, and 
 toward the close of the day we were at anchor in the bay of Hilo, 
 where we said good-by to our kind friend, the Captain. His craft 
 was small, but his heart was large and his kindness as unbounded as 
 the seas over which he sailed! 
 
 There was no hotel in Hilo, and no place where one could pay for 
 accommodations, but the kindhearted, hospitable residents kept open 
 house for all who came their way. 
 
 An acquaintance in Honolulu had given us the name of a friend, 
 whom he felt sure would receive us kindly, but in spite of his assur- 
 ance, and it being the custom of the country, it was with great trep- 
 idation that we presented ourselves. We were met by a gentleman 
 who to our great relief gave us a warm welcome, and in reply to our 
 apologies for intruding upon him, declared that the obligation was all 
 on his side as he happened to be feeling particularly lonely and in 
 need of company. His house was charming, with spacious rooms and 
 broad flower-hung verandas. The extensive grounds were delightful. 
 Near the wall bounding the grounds was a structure literally covered 
 with vines and masses of gorgeous bloom, and from within came the 
 
 Page Twenty-eight 
 
nimiiiiiiiiiirii innHniiMituiiinniMniiiirMinniininimiiiiiiniiiiiniininiiiiniinniiiiiiiiitiiiiinniiiiiiiiinniniiinniiniiiiiiininiiiiniiiniiiiiiiiiiiininiiiiiiininiininiiiiniiiniiiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 'iniiiiHiinnnMiiiiuiiiiiiinininiiniiiiiiHnMiiiiiiiiiiiiniiMMinitiniiiriJNiiiiiniiiniiiniininniHiniiMiniiiinntniniHiiiiiuMniiiniiiiniiininniiiiiiinnininininnMinininiMinniiiirin 
 
 pleasant sound of running water, so it was no surprise to find that this 
 lovely structure was a spacious bath room, where through an immense 
 tub a generous stream of pure, soft, tepid water was constantly 
 flowing and great was the luxury of that bath after our experience 
 on the little schooner. 
 
 Directly after we were seated at table for dinner we heard a 
 flapping of wings, and a large parrot lighted on our host's shoulder. 
 He stroked the bird afl'ectionately and explained that Polly was his 
 only companion since his family found life in Hilo dull, and spent 
 most of their time in San Francisco. When the dinner was served 
 the parrot slid, and flopped until he reached the table and began to 
 eat from our host's plate, often helping himself to bits on the fork that 
 Mr. was in the act of conveying to his own mouth. Natu- 
 rally the talk and interest for the time centered on Polly, who, feeling 
 his importance, began to look around in a very animated manner, and 
 then to your amusement, and my discomfiture, that dreadful bird, 
 with a loud squawk, waddled towards me, and began gobbling from 
 my plate. Our host was lost in amazement for never before had Polly 
 made friends with a stranger. I did not relish Polly's familiarity and 
 abandoned my plate to the voracious bird that soon disposed of all 
 the food upon it. Then another dinner was given me and the Chinese 
 cook carried Polly, screaming and swearing to some place of con- 
 finement. How you laughed when I told you of the concern I felt 
 at the prospect of sharing my food with that household pet; but 
 Polly was either fickle, or blamed me for the indignity he sufl'ered 
 when removed forcibly from the dinner table, for though he came 
 regularly to all meals, he never again took any notice of me. 
 
 We had noticed great clusters of night-blooming cereus hanging 
 on the garden wall; when night came the flowers opened, filling the 
 air with most delicious perfume. We sat on the flower scented 
 veranda until nearly midnight. I watched the smoke that curled up 
 from your cigars, and the moonbeams that strayed through the net- 
 work of vines and made dancing lights and shadows on the floor, 
 while I listened to the interesting talk. Our host told of the life and 
 industries of the Islands, and plied you with questions concerning the 
 activities of that world from which he was so cut ofl*. 
 
 The following morning Mr. took us over his fine 
 
 estate, where we saw great fields of sugar-cane, pineapples, plantain 
 and bananas. Of the latter he was very proud, saying his plants 
 were equalled nowhere on the Islands, a statement we could well 
 believe, when we looked at those wonderful leaves. Glossy and shim- 
 
 Page Twenty-nine 
 
MiinMiiiiiHHiniiiiiiiiMHiiniiMiHiiiiiiiHHiinMimnniiHUiiHiiiiiiiiwiMiiHiiiiniHMHiMiniiHininiiHHmniitiiiuiiiMiiHiiiuiiiiiiHHiiiiiiHinintniiiiiiiiiHiniiiiiiiiiHiiiiiHHHii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 lUiHiinimniiiiiiinniniiHinMiiMiiiimHimuiiiHiinnimiiiinimniiHiuniimiiiiMiiHiiniHMiiiMHiiiiiinMinniiiiitMiniiiiniitMHiniiuiiniuMiMiiiitinHtuiniiiiii^ 
 
 mering in the strong light, measuring ten and twelve feet, and perfect 
 their entire length. There were many acres also of fruit bearing trees 
 and shrubs; orange and lemon, bread-fruit, tamarind, mango, ava- 
 cado, or alligator pear, and guava. There was an experimental patch 
 
 of coiFee trees that looked thrifty but Mr. did not think 
 
 they would do well on the lowland, adding that while coffee was the 
 most profitable product of the Islands the area upon which it could 
 be gro^n to advantage was very limited. 
 
 After our return to the house you disappeared, and when you 
 joined us, said you had engaged horses and that we would start for 
 the volcano in the afternoon. Our host advised and strongly urged, 
 that we wait until the morrow, get off early, and make the entire 
 trip in a day. 
 
 The distance was thirty miles. The elevation four thousand feet. 
 There was a half way house and you argued it was better to rest 
 
 there for the night. Mr. had heard of such' a house but 
 
 had never known anyone to stop there and felt sure we would find 
 it an uncomfortable place; then seeing that you were not to be per- 
 suaded, hurried our departure saying we would need all the time. 
 We had the wisdom and confidence of youth and jested with him 
 over needing all the afternoon of a long sunmier day to ride fifteen 
 miles. Soon after luncheon we were in the saddle, our kind host 
 urging us even then to wait until the morning. As we started he gave 
 you the same warning the stableman had given you, to watch out for 
 the cattle being driven down the mountain. 
 
 We galloped over the fertile plain in high spirits, and as we 
 began the first gentle incline entered a tropical jungle of indescrib- 
 able beauty. Tall forest trees arched overhead with vines climbing 
 to the very top ; interfaced and interwoven they formed a leafy canopy 
 so compact that the fierce rays of a tropical sun were turned into 
 subdued and tender light. From the branches of the trees tendrils 
 and trailers and festoons with lovely flowers, including orchids in 
 great variety, were gracefully swaying. At times a delightful per- 
 fume filled the air, and here and there the ground was thickty strewn 
 with fallen flowers, as though gorgeous colored rugs had been thrown 
 about. And the ferns, the beauty and variety of the ferns ! Creeping 
 ferns that carpetted the ground, climbing ferns that vined around 
 the trunks of trees, golden ferns, — ferns in endless variety from the 
 tiniest, to the tree ferns with their graceful feathery tops. What a 
 very paradise of ferns it was ! 
 
 " This wonderful jungle was perhaps three miles in length. We 
 entered it suddenly, and suddenly emerged from it. We had now 
 
 Page Thirty 
 
'«HnHHiiHniiiHniHMiiiMH<MiiHiiHiiiiHmmiiirHHiiiiiiimiHiNiimmnMnii»HiiMiiMiHHiH<iimiHiiniHiHi<inHHiHii«mm<HiiiwimiiHiHiHHH«niiiiHnH<miiiiHi^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 <tHiiiMiriiuiniHiiiiiuiiiHHiiHiiinHHUtininiMnHiHnniMiiHiiiniiiniiiiiiniiiiiiiiHHiiHiiiiiimMiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiMiiiuiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimii^ 
 
 reached the mountain side, and from the time we began the ascent 
 on that smooth pohshed lava trail, until we reached our destination, 
 the poor, nervous horses were slipping constantly, often falling on 
 their knees, scrambling up only to fall again, and so, slipping and 
 scrambling, on and up we went. Several times warned by the cries of 
 the drivers, we drew our horses far as possible from the trail to let a 
 band of wild cattle pass, as they came tearing down the mountain 
 side like an avalanche. We had one terrifying experience when at an 
 abrupt bend where the trail was narrow, we saw a band of these 
 dreadful beasts bearing down upon us, and with scant time to reach 
 a place of safety it seemed as though we must be swept away by them. 
 
 We met many natives. They always saluted us pleasantly while 
 waiting beside the trail for us to pass, for those toiling up the moun- 
 tain had the right of way. 
 
 We saw one group of Hawaiians that afternoon that we long 
 remembered. An oldish man and three very pretty young girls. On 
 their heads were wreaths made of some vine with small glossy leaves 
 and red berries, and with loose garlands of the same around their 
 shoulders the eiFect was charming. As we slowly passed them we 
 saw three pairs of sparkling eyes, there pairs of rosy lips with gleam- 
 ing white teeth between, and heard three musical voices give us the 
 friendly greeting: "Aloha." 
 
 As the day wore toward its close, there was complete and oppres- 
 sive solitude, with not a sound but that of our horses' iron shoes 
 striking the lava trail as we went laboriously on. We were both 
 tired. I very tired, and we longed to reach our resting place. 
 
 At half -past seven, seven and a quarter hours from the time we 
 left Hilo, we came upon a bit of level ground, in the midst of which 
 stood the half-way house. Our goal! The place we had been im- 
 patient to reach. The shabbiest and most dilapidated of grass huts! 
 Before it, several men, a woman and a lot of unkempt children. As 
 we drew up our horses one of the men came forward. 
 
 You asked if that was his place, and when he answered "Yes" 
 told him we wanted supper, a night's lodging and good care for our 
 horses. He said something to his wife in the native tongue, upon 
 which she and the children armed themselves with sticks and began 
 chasing a luckless fowl, while we went on a tour of inspection. 
 
 We found that the house consisted of two rooms. One had a 
 table and some stools; presumably the dining room. The other room 
 was long and narrow with a bank running the entire length, com- 
 posed of ferns and grasses packed hard from long usage. It was 
 
 Page Thirty-one 
 
iiinmniiinMiiMnriniiniiiMnnrniMHiHniiiiHiiiiriiuuMuiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiHiiinniiiiiiiniriiiMrrniriniMnMiiiniiiMniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinriiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiniii iiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiniiiuiniuiiniuniiiininiiMiiiiiiunniniiMrHminnnniiiiinniitiiHiniuiiiiiiuiniiiiiiiuiiiMiniNnimiiiNiiMnriniiiiiiuiiiMiiiiiiiiiniiiiiMiiniininniniiiiiiiiJiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiin 
 
 about three feet in height held in place by rough boards. A coarse 
 open meshed sacking was stretched over it, and upon it some gaudy 
 colored coverlets — the sleeping room of the half-way house! 
 
 In less than half an hour our supper was ready. Some sour, 
 soggy? fried cakes of what we took to be poi, and that unfortunate 
 fowl. The skin had been torn from the poor thing. It had been cut 
 in pieces without regard to joints. It lay in a watery gravy, a most 
 unpalatable looking dish. The flesh was so firrti and hard that a fork 
 could not penetrate it, and our knives slipped from it as from glass. 
 Ruefully we remembered how our Hilo host had urged us to carry 
 something to eat at the half-way house. "Where there are hens there 
 should be eggs" said my dear philosopher, and calling the landlord 
 we soon had a half dozen boiled eggs upon which to make our supper. 
 
 Returning later from a stroll we came upon the family picking 
 the bones of that ancient bird. It was now quite dark. We decided 
 to retire, get what rest we could, and be ready for the following day's 
 hard work. A bowl of cocoanut oil from which a lighted wick pro- 
 truded had been put in a corner of the room. It gave a dim, murky 
 light, and filled the place with smell and smoke. We chose 
 our places against the wall at the farthest corner of the room. We 
 talked of the charming guest room at Hilo and lay down. Almost 
 at once you fell asleep, but the buzzing of insects and the fear that 
 fleas, and possibly other troublesome things lurked in that strangely 
 fashioned bed kept me awake, and soon a sensation as of something 
 now and again falling upon me made the conditions impossible to 
 endure. 
 
 I woke you reluctantly. You listened to my statement, said it 
 could only be fancy, but when I persisted, you struck a match, and 
 there, suspended directly over me was a newspaper bundle, over 
 which dozens of large roaches were crawling and crowding, while 
 those that had fallen, were scurrying away from the light in all 
 directions. We were still the only occupants of the bed, and we 
 changed our location to the other wall. 
 
 As the night wore on, I knew from the movements I heard that 
 a row of human beings were stretched out upon that primitive bed. 
 Deep breathing and snores filled the air. Soon as the gray dawn 
 appeared, one by one our bed fellows arose, were silhouetted against 
 the open spaces of the hut and went their way When you awoke, 
 we were the only occupants of the room and bed. 
 
 We breakfasted on eggs, fried poi and a concoction the landlord 
 said was tea^ but you could not persuade him to show the material of 
 
 Page Thirty-two 
 
iiiiMHimiiMitiiiiHimMwitiMninHiminimiHHiriHNriiiitmmmiiuuiMmiiNiHiHHMMmimuHninmwmmmininMimuuiMiHHmuHiiHiHimHNiHUtmmHniiHiiiHHMHiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 8IIMIMIIUtllUIHIIIINIinHmHUIHHIIIimHIHHHWIIIIIIHnirttmHmniHHIUIUIHtllniHlllllunillUUmiHMtHmini»lllltWltlUUUIIHWWHII»HUWHHMIHIiniUHMIIIIIIIIinnmHIUtt^ 
 
 which it was made. You told of our experience of the night. He 
 explained that the package attacked by the keen scented roaches con- 
 tained food that a native walking across the country was carrying 
 with him; also that the hanging of something on one of the hooks 
 placed over the bed, pre-empted the space beneath; so, but for the 
 falling of the big, black roaches, we should have trespassed on the 
 rights of a fellow traveler. 
 
 Directly after breakfast we were under way. Our horses must 
 have fared well for they were fresh and ready for work. The lava 
 trail was steep and trying but there were frequent level, restful 
 reaches, groves of cocoanut trees and meadows where the wild cattle 
 fed. The morning was without incident or interest except that we 
 passed through a forest of tree ferns of wonderful size and beauty. 
 On their graceful stems the stately trees stood fully thirty feet in 
 height. They were like palms but far more beautiful with their 
 drowns of large delicate lace-like leaves. 
 
 . The Volcano House was not only comfortable, but remarkably 
 pretty and picturesque. The proprietor, owner, architect and builder 
 was very proud of it, and told us there was not a nail used in its 
 construction, the parts being bound together by strong fiber grasses 
 that were everywhere plentiful. The plaiting of the grass that 
 formed the sides of the house was a work of art, done, he said, by his 
 wife,- whom we did not have the pleasure of seeing. This ingenious 
 man had planted on three sides, occasional bamboo trees, and while 
 the tops waved gracefully above, the trunks served as a firm, solid 
 support on which to anchor the grass thatched roof, and every other 
 part of this unique habitation. 
 
 The edge of the crater was only a few yards away and directly 
 after lunch, with a native guide, we made our way towards it, but 
 when we looked down that three hundred feet of precipitous wall my 
 heart quailed. There was an obscure path pointed out by the guide 
 and we were soon following it. Stunted trees and shrubs were grow- 
 ing about the rim, and for some little distance below, and these served 
 us well. When they gave out we clung to ferns, grass, vines, any- 
 thing we could grasp so long as vegetation remained, and then to 
 ridges and projections of lava im^til we stood upon the floor of the 
 crater. 
 
 A hideous, desolate, vast area of black lava in hillocks of varying 
 size. For three miles we followed a rough, undulating, uncanny trail 
 that gave out an unpleasantly hollow sound beneath our feet, and 
 made frequent detours to avoid places in the crust too thin to sustain 
 
 Page Thirty-ttiree 
 
iiiHHiiiiniiiHiiiiiinnniiniiiMtniniMiMtuiiniiinninnininniiniiinnitunHtitiiiiHiimnnnHiiinnn»iniiHinMniiininiiiinniiniininiiiininnn»iiinMiMitiinnniinMniHniniiim 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiinMiniinunitiiiiiiiiiiininiiiniiuirinriiuniininHnuiniuiiiiniininniHiiniiMiiuiiniiniiuiuiHiiiiiinmnuiuiiuiinniumiiuiuniiinniiniiiininniniMiiiiuuniUHniiMininin 
 
 a person's weight. On every side were fissures emitting sulphurous 
 gasses, and looking into their depths we could see the gleam of angry 
 fire. The guide carried a handful of sticks and one thrust down any 
 of these chasms, and held there for a few seconds would always be 
 brought up alight. The trail ended abruptly at a wall of lava, which 
 was a rim, this crater within a crater had thrown around itself. We 
 clambored up this rim and saw some fifty feet below the Lake of 
 Fire; irregular in shape, a half mile across at the widest point. A 
 seething, raging, surging, bubbling, restless, wrinkled, molten mass 
 from which came clouds of sulphurous vapor, and at intervals foun- 
 tains of liquid lava shot up into the air far above where we were 
 standing. A weird, terrible, awe-inspiring, wonderful sight! In 
 Hawaiian Mythology the abode of Pele, the dreadful Goddess of 
 Fire! Awful and terrifying as it was to look upon, there was a 
 fascination in watching the movement upon the surface of this seeth- 
 ing cauldron. The colors were dull and dark except where sunlight 
 rested upon the constantly shifting mass, and brought out dim 
 iridescent hues. We wanted very much to wait until darkness fell 
 and turned the dark somber mass into garish colors, but we remem- 
 bered the three miles of uncanny trail, and the three hundred feet of 
 precipitous scramble from the floor of the quiescent crater, and turned 
 reluctantly away. From our room in the hotel all through that night 
 we saw clouds of blood red vapor, and intermittent jets of liquid 
 blood red lava shooting up into the air from Pele's House of Ever- 
 lasting Fire. 
 
 The following morning we were off in good season. At the 
 half-way house we stopped for a few moments' rest. We had prom- 
 ised ourselves to loiter through the lovely jungle, but we had not 
 taken into consideration the wishes of our horses; They could not be 
 coaxed or scolded into loitering, but instead, champed at their bits, 
 danced and tossed their heads We felt grateful to them, for they 
 had given us without mishap, a wild ride down the mountain side and 
 over the treacherous lava trail. You said that they slid down the 
 steepest places, but however that may be, we drew rein at the now 
 familiar house in Hilo at noon. 
 
 Dear Mr. gave us the warmest and friendliest of wel- 
 comes and said he was just then speculating as to what hour he might 
 begin to look for us. 
 
 It was indeed a dilapidated appearance that we presented. Our 
 clothing had been often wet by tropical showers, and as often dried 
 by the tropical sun. Our boots and gloves were destroyed from 
 
 Page Thirty-four 
 
iiiiiHniiniiiiiiiiiiiiniiiininHiiiinMMnMuiiuiuinitiiiiiiiHniiiiiiniiinMiiniitiiniiiniiiiiiiMinininniiniiiiiiiiniuiiiiuiiiiniiiiiiniiiiHiiniiiuKiimiuiiiiiiuiiiiuinmu^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 ninuinuinniiinniiMUiMiiniiiiiiuniMiiHiuniininNnnnnniiniiiniinMiiiniiniiiMinnniiiMiinninninriinnMiniiniiinNiiiNiiiiininMiiniiinuiiiiiiiiiiuiriuiinniimiiuuiiiiiuniniinimi 
 
 contact with rough lava and stones. We were lame and bruised from 
 pounding in the saddle and the scramble up and down the steep 
 crater side. 
 
 Our kind hearted host said that after such a trip we should 
 try the Hawaiian remedy of lomi-lomi and asked our consent to 
 send for an elderly native woman who knew the art to perfection. 
 The treatment consists in vigorous manipulation of the muscles by 
 kneading, pinching and pounding. We were ignorant of its almost 
 universal use, and great efficacy, and the luxury of that abundant 
 stream of water running through the bath tub within the grounds 
 appealed to us more strongly; but lomi-lomi would probably have 
 done for us in a few hours what nature took a long time to accom- 
 plish. Worse even than the lameness and stiffness was the painful 
 sunburn our faces had suffered. We had each started from Hilo 
 with an umbrella tied to the horn of the saddle, but both had been 
 brushed off and lost in going tlirough the dense growth of the 
 jungle, and the pitiless sun had shown us no mercy. 
 
 You had often told me of tropical fruit so perishable that it could 
 only be enjoj^ed where it was grown and it gave you great pleasure 
 
 to find in Mr. 's grounds every variety with which as a boy 
 
 you were familiar. Some cynic has said that fruit of this class is al- 
 ways in one of three conditions. Green — not quite ripe- — or rotten, 
 but in Hilo and in Honolulu we found it in the perfection of ripe- 
 ness. Some was tasteless and insipid. Some perfectly delicious in 
 flavor. * 
 
 The morning after our return from the volcano, you spoke of 
 setting out to make enquiries about getting back to Honolulu. 
 
 Mr. told you the Kilauea had resumed service, was in the 
 
 Bay of Hilo and would sail that afternoon but he hoped we would 
 stay on with him until her next sailing, ten days hence. That kind 
 and tempting invitation we could not accept because of limited time. 
 
 Mr. complained of the irony of fate; when he had 
 
 guests that he wished to keep, they were always limited for time, 
 whereas ; he then told us of the subterfuges to which he and his friends 
 had resorted to rid themselves of visitors who had unlimited time, and 
 found Hilo an agreeable place in which to spend it. 
 
 When the time came to go, Mr. went with us to the 
 
 landing place. Keeping a hand of each in his clasp as the good-bys 
 were said, he added : "Always hold fast to your beautiful companion- 
 ship as the best thing life can give you." He would not listen to any 
 
 Page Thirty-five 
 
VNI HHl NNnfHHtlNHnHHHfHt IHHIttMttl HNN N I ItH HH HltN HH H NIttHHHN tNIIHMtNNHNHN M HHM HIttltHt 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 •iiHwiiimmimHimiwmiHrNiHMtmmimiHmHnHiiwHinmHiHHiHHmiiHiimiiiitHniMHWumiimHHmiiHHimHmnHHMiiumumiHiHmimNiHmHmHtiimimmmmmtim^ 
 
 word of thanks and appreciation from us, saying we could have no 
 idea how much pleasure our little visit had given him. He waited 
 until we had clambered from the row boat to the steamer's deck, 
 waved a farewell, turned and walked away, all our hearts going out 
 to him in gratitude, for the courtesy and friendly warm-hearted 
 kindness given us. 
 
 As we left the Bay of Hilo we located the hospitable roof that 
 had sheltered us, the jungle, the half-way house, the volcano with a 
 black, heavy smoke cloud hanging over it, then up, and up, and up 
 until our eyes rested on the two lofty snow crowned mountain tops, 
 that made such a splendid background for the little town lying at 
 their feet. 
 
 The Kilauea was a poor little tub of less than four hundred tons 
 burden. Her deck swarmed with flower wreathed, flower garlanded 
 Kanakas, their dogs and food supplies. It was the schooner "Fanny" 
 over again, on a larger scale. You and I, and a young doctor from 
 Honolulu whom we had met there, were the only white passengers, in 
 a complement of two hundred. The majority were Hawaiians, with 
 a goodly sprinkling of Chinese. 
 
 Dr. S came at once to speak to us, and asked if we had 
 
 seen the saloon. He told us that we would find it impossible, and 
 suggested that we allow him to arrange for our meals on deck, and 
 our mattresses brought up when night came. By this time we were 
 v|^ell under way and the sea disagreeably choppy. We went to look at 
 the saloon. A poorly lighted, poorly ventilated room the width of 
 the boat. A table with remnants of lunch still upon it. A double 
 row of berths on each side, some open, others with curtains drawn. 
 A number of sea sick passengers and a nauseating smell of food, and 
 polluted air. Dear little cabin, all our own, on the "Fanny" what 
 would we not have given for it then! We hurried back to the deck 
 
 and gave Dr. S carte blanche to do for us what he could. 
 
 In this way every one we met in the Islands, seemed to feel a per- 
 sonal responsibility for our well being, and a desire to show us every 
 possible kindness. The Doctor reserved for us the best places, under 
 a small strip of awning, that protected a portion of the deck. There, 
 we ate our indifl'erent meals, and there when night fell, our beds 
 were made and we lay down to rest, with our heads pillowed on the 
 skylight. Surrounded by that motely crowd of deck passengers, alien 
 in race and color, we were indeed glad to have the moral support and 
 companionship of the helpful, cheerful young doctor. 
 
 It was a wretched trip! The Kilauea rolled and pitched and 
 
 Page Thirty-six 
 
HHuimimHwtmMiHiwHwmtMiiHiMHiimwtMniwiiiimHimiuniHWNHmMMHHiiinnmmimiiiiiiiiiiimiiimiinniiniiiinimiinnMmHntiiHiniiMiHwnmiiiiHniiiHiuH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 WHHWHnHUiuuiuuiuiiiumiuiiiHumuuiuuiiiiiiuuwinininniiniiiminiiiiUMiiniiiniiuiuinuiniiinMiniintiiuiitiniiiiiuiiiiiHiiMuiHiuiiuiiiinHiiiHnMmuMiiHiiiiiunMiu 
 
 floundered where the sea was smooth, and in the channels between 
 the islands where the sea was rough she behaved diabolically. When 
 at the close of the day, brown and worn and torn, we were ashore in 
 Honolulu and back in our comfortable quarterjs, where smiling faces 
 and cheerful voices gave us greeting, we were glad and thankful. 
 Glad and thankful to have seen the largest and greatest volcano in 
 all the World. Glad and thankful that the hardships and discomforts 
 attending it had all been overcome. We had long since ceased to 
 wonder at the surprise expressed at our undertaking the trip, and 
 also at the fact that of all the people we had met in Honolulu none, 
 with one exception had seen the volcano, the exception being the 
 young doctor of whom I have written. 
 
 Twenty-five years after our visit the Hawaiian Government be- 
 gan the construction of a road from Hilo to the volcano. The 
 government also made a zig-zag bridle path on the precipitous wall 
 of the crater and visitors could do their scrambhng up and down on 
 the back of a sure footed horse. 
 
 In recent years we often talked of re-visiting the Islands and 
 the volcano. Had we gone, how different our experience would have 
 been. We should have sailed into the lovely Hilo Bay on a large ocean 
 liner, stepped ashore on a commodious wharf, and gone to one of the 
 fine, fashionable hotels. Then from Hilo to the volcano an automo- 
 bile would have carried us. We should have found the Volcano 
 House a showy, tourist frequented caravansery numbering among 
 its luxuries Turkish and sulphur baths fed from Nature's own labora- 
 tory. From the hotel we should have been taken by automobile quite 
 around the quiescent crater to the Lake of Fire, the home of the God- 
 dess Pele — the only thing unchanged in all the intervening years! 
 
 The Native population interested us very much. How we 
 enjoyed the incident when for the first time we saw the National, 
 universal dish of "poi" eaten. A few blocks from our house, at a 
 street crossing, a large tree stood at the corner of a vacant lot, and 
 passing there one day at noon we saw under its shade a group of 
 men, women and girls, seated tailor fashion, on the ground around a 
 large calabash of "poi." They were talking and laughing and dip- 
 ping the fingers of the right hand in the pasty mass which they 
 dexterously conveyed to their mouths. It was such a novel sight 
 that we could not refrain from stopping to look at them and were 
 glad to find that our curiosity neither disturbed nor annoyed them. 
 That nearby shade tree was a favorite lounging place with the 
 Natives. There, one afternoon, we saw the first of the sociable 
 
 Page Thirty-seven 
 
miiinmminiiHinHniimnmiiHiiHMiimminiiniiiiiiMniiwtttiinnmiitNHHHimmirmimimniniimtinniiimitiiiHiniHimniiimiiinriHnmniiiirmmnniiiniiiiiinmiiiM 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 niiMiiiiniiHniMiiiiiiiniiiiiiMiuMiinniiiiniiiiiiHrinimiiiiiiiinitriiiiinHiiiiiimiMMtiiiiiiMiiiniiniiiiiitHiiiiiHiniinMniniiiiMinuninniiiiMiHiimiiHnimiiiMuiiiiiiNi^ 
 
 smoking parties that later became a familiar sight. Several women 
 with perhaps one or two young girls seated in a circle on the ground 
 and smoking from one pipe, each in turn taking two or three whifFs 
 and passing it to the one sitting next. When the pipe was empty it 
 would quickly be refilled, relighted and continued on its journey 
 around. 
 
 But it was the Nuuanu Valley and the Pali road, on Saturday 
 afternoon, the gala day of the week, that the natives were seen at 
 their best. Every man and woman who could get a horse by hook 
 or by crook would be there. The men with flowers wreathed around 
 the bands of their hats, and closely woven necklaces of flowers around 
 their dusky throats; the women with freshly made wreaths and gar- 
 lands of the brightest bloom. On they sped by hundreds. The waving 
 motion of the long, wide orange or scarlet saddlecloths, the merry 
 peals of laughter, the animated talk, the dash and abandon, taken 
 altogether made a unique spectacle. It was the Natives' day and the 
 Natives' road and few of the foreign residents cared to dispute it. 
 
 We were in the very hey day of our visit when Captain Floyd 
 came on the Idaho, and in the mail was a business letter for you of 
 such importance, that you wished to reach San Francisco as soon as 
 possible. The Idaho would not sail for ten days, but a full-rigged, 
 merchant sailing ship would go on the following day, and on her you 
 engaged our passage. Great was my regret to miss the many things 
 to which I had looked forward with pleasure. Queen Emma's garden 
 party, croquet parties and an excursion to a beach to see surf bathing, 
 something we missed altogether. We had a busy time packing, pay- 
 ing visits and writing notes. In the evening we went with a party to 
 see the famous hulu dances for which we did not much care. 
 
 A large delegation went with us to the wharf to say farewell. 
 The ship lay far off in the harbor. When we were seated in the row- 
 boat our flowers were thrown after us, and fairly buried in their 
 bloom, pleasant voices calling out affectionate good-bys, we rowed 
 away. With as many flowers as we could carry, we climbed up the 
 ship's ladder to the deck. We looked towards the wharf, but alas! 
 the familiar forms and friendly faces were lost to view. The anchor 
 was raised, the sails unfurled ; all too soon the picturesque shore grew 
 dim, and gradually Diamond Head, the Punchbowl and Tantahis 
 Mountain faded away. 
 
 "Oh, Dear Heart," said I, "what a good time we did have.'* 
 "Yes," you answered, "but the end had to come," and we talked of 
 the warm-hearted, cultured, charming people who had been so kind 
 
 Page Thirty-eight 
 
miiiiimMtiiinniiiiHiiiiiiiiinininiMiiiittiiiiiinirniiiMinimiiiHninriiiumiiiruiiiiiMiimmiMiiKHHHmiimHiniiiiiMmiMMMNnnitiiniiiiniii»m»HUiimiHiMnMiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 niiiiiiiiiniitiiiiiiiininininHiniiiininiiiiinuiMnniiuiniHiuiiiiiiimmiiiiHiniuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitniuiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiriininiitiiiiiiiiHiiiiHiiiMiiiiiMi^ 
 
 to us; who lived such simple, beautiful, unostentatious lives under 
 sunny skies, surrounded by Nature's most prodigal gifts. We hoped 
 we were only saying au revoir and not good-by forever. I^ong 
 after the highest peaks had vanished from our view, we heard in 
 fancy, softly singing in our ears the Hawaiian farewell, called out to 
 us from the wharf as we rowed away in the little boat, Aloha-oe! 
 Aloha-oe! Aloha-oe! 
 
 Right here my "ever-ready pencil" signally failed. It made no 
 record of the Captain's name, or of the ship's name. Only, that we 
 carried a cargo of raw sugar ; that the ship was infested with rats ; 
 that the motion under full sail was remarkably steady, and that the 
 time made in returning was but a few hours more than that of the 
 Idaho in going. 
 
 The eccentricities of memory who can understand! The inci- 
 dents connected with going to the Islands and our stay there are 
 clear-cut without any blurring of edges, but the return is almost a 
 blank. In twelve days the Captain and his ship must have become 
 familiar objects, yet I cannot conjure up the slightly memory of 
 either, or any incident, with the one exception of the rodents. 
 
 We occupied the only cabin reserved for passengers and the first 
 morning after sailing, I told you there were rats in the mattress of 
 my berth. You laughed and said: "Nerves and fancies, dear, 
 not rats." 
 
 "Will you let me have the upper berth tonight?" I asked. 
 
 You answered "No; but come to breakfast and forget the 
 night." 
 
 I did not forget and when the steward went to our cabin I fol- 
 lowed and told him my suspicions. "It may well be" he said, "since 
 we have not carried a passenger for months," and taking a stout stick 
 he rolled under the berth. Almost at once a large rat ran out, and 
 then another. The steward followed and began threshing about 
 with his stick. 
 
 "What are you going to do?" I asked. "Kill them, or they will 
 always be finding their way back." "Please, steward," said I, "first 
 let me get out of the way." 
 
 I jumped down from the chair on which I was standing 
 and soon found you ; told what was happening in our cabin and asked : 
 "Now what do you say to nerves and fancies?" "Now I say rats," 
 you answered. We laughed then, and we laughed many times there- 
 after over the incident. 
 
 Page Thirty-nine 
 
WMtiH i M n MMiiM«MiMMinHMniimiHtiiHnt«H»ii»HwinMMiwiiiwwiiHMtiiiH i i M M»tii i i u w«Mitimtimwwwttmmtnwwii«mMniiiwimHiwi^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 IIHIHniNINtNIHIIIIIMlnilllHIIIUIHIIItHHIIIIIIItlHIWIIUIIUIIIUmiMIUIUHIIIIIMIIIMmHUIWMUIUIIUHIIIIIIHHinimMIIIIWHHIIUIIIHIIHrimnHIIUIimimiHIIUnmiUI^ 
 
 We had been away from San Francisco eight weeks. Upon 
 our return, busy though you were, the prosaic, dusty, fog-laden, 
 wind-swept streets were a trial to us both. We longed for the sun- 
 warmed, flower-scented air and the shady streets ; we missed our new- 
 found friends and we missed the dusky maidens with flower- wreathed 
 heads and bare-brown feet, in their bright-colored Mother Hubbard 
 gowns. O dusky Hawaiian maidens! Aloha-oe! for only in our 
 dreams were we ever again to behold thee! 
 
 Page Forty 
 
MHmmmiiiHimiiNMimHmiimiiiHiiHtiniiiiiiHiiimttmnHiiiinHmniiimHimMHtHiiiiiHiuiminiiiminiwHiHimHttMHHiHiiNNiiiHimtiMHia^ 
 
 MEM OR lES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aHHUmiHHUUIIUUIIIIHIIHIUIIHHMIUIUIIIHIIHINIHIINIIIlnilllHniinMIIUIIIHIHIimmnilUmimilHIHHIIIIHIIIUIIIUMIHIIHIHIIIHIIWHIIUIHJUIUIIMIUIW^ 
 
 PART THREE 
 
 THE SPRING following our visit to the Hawaiian Islands you 
 came home one day with your face all aglow, and that unmistak- 
 able air that I knew so well of having something unusual, or 
 perhaps important to tell me. I knew, too, from experience, that the 
 less curiosity I betrayed the sooner I should hear the cause, and it 
 soon came in the question, "What would you think of our going to 
 Europe for a year?" 
 
 "Going to Europe for a year?" I repeated, "it would take my 
 breath away if I thought you were in earnest." 
 
 Then you told me that you were in earnest — that you had 
 thought of it all through the winter but determined not to mention it 
 to me until you had fully decided. 
 
 "But can we afford it?" I asked. 
 
 You said you thought so — you spoke of some investments you 
 had made ; that the Savings Banks were paying twelve per cent inter- 
 est, and then laughingly you told me of a boy you had once known 
 who sang a song about the Mississippi Boatmen — you had forgotten 
 all but one line, and that ran, 
 
 "He spends his money and he works for more," 
 
 and you had made up your mind that you would do the same thing. 
 Of course such specious argument could not fail to convince me 
 that going to Europe for a year, on a very limited capital, was just 
 the right and proper thing to do. In later years we realized what an 
 ill-advised, imprudent, improvident act it was, because our point of 
 view had changed. Then, we had the unbounded enthusiasm and 
 hopefulness of youth. It was still for us 
 
 "The hour of splendor in the grass, of beauty in the flower," 
 
 and the experience of that year in the Old World, with its happy, 
 lasting memories, was forever after a part of our lives. 
 
 We were reading Washington Irving's Alhambra, and my first 
 question, when I realized that we really were going abroad, was, 
 "And shall we see the Alhambra?" You answered, "I hope so," and 
 go to Rome? and Florence? and Paris? and London? I asked eagerly. 
 
 You were fully engrossed in business until early in June; then 
 we crossed the continent by the recently completed Overland Road. 
 
 Page Forty-one 
 
aniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitriiiiiitiirii iiimiiiiiiiMimiHinHHiinHuniinHiiMMHiiiiiniiiiiiiitiiiiiiHiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiniuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiitiiiiit 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit iiiiiiiiiiiiuiuiiiiiiiiiiii nmiiiiiiiimmimimiiminiiimmiiiHiiimmnniiminiiiiiiiiHi 
 
 An organ of five thousand pipes had just been finished for the 
 Tabernacle at Salt Lake City, and wishing to hear the organ, and see 
 the famous place, you made arrangements for stopping over. We 
 found a city with well kept, pleasantly shaded streets, very wide, the 
 blocks tiresomely long, and the mountain views fine. 
 
 After dinner I went to put on my hat, for our usual stroll, and 
 upon re-joining you, found you engaged in animated conversation 
 with a gentlemen to whom you introduced me — Mr. Barnum — the 
 gentleman laughingly adding to the introduction as he rose and 
 bowed, "P. T. Barnum, the show-man." 
 
 The cigars finished, we were starting for our walk ; Mr. Barnum 
 asked if he might join us, and a more genial, entertaining, interesting 
 man could nowhere have been found. When we said good-night he 
 told us he was going by appointment, the following morning to see 
 Brigham Young and would we not like to go with him. We accepted, 
 and on Sunday, at ten o'clock, were received by the Mormon leader. 
 After a few preliminary and general remarks there was a lively 
 conversation between the two men, both giants in their way, radiating 
 physical pow er and mental vigor. 
 
 Then came a lull, broken by Mr. Young saying: "Mr. Barnum, 
 I can tell what you are thinking about." 
 
 "You might try," said Mr. Barnum. 
 
 "You are thinking that if you could put me in a cage, and ex- 
 hibit me over the country, what a fortune you might make." 
 
 Quick as a flash came Mr. Barnum's answer: "With the biggest 
 show on earth, of course I would make a fortune." 
 
 In the midst of the laughter that followed, we took leave, going 
 to the Tabernacle. We heard the organ, but did not hear Mr. Young 
 speak. There we said good-by to Mr. Barnum and went to join our 
 train. 
 
 We spent a delightful and happy summer in the midst of a large 
 family circle in my old home in Central New York. Again we were 
 boy and girl together, as we wandered over the old paths, visited the 
 old haunts, and listened to the song of the birds. We studied guide 
 books, French conversation and read prose and poetry that related to 
 places and things we expected to see. In the warm, pleasant even- 
 ings, under the stars and the trees, we would watch the fireflies flitting 
 by hundreds around us, and talk; sometimes the talk would be seri- 
 ous, sometimes full of merry jest and laughter; but you. Dear Heart 
 of mine, were invariably the very life of it all. 
 
 Page Forty-two 
 
iiniimmmmmHHminmtnniimHHHHiHniHiHimHHniHmimnmHiiinmmiiuHmiiiimiiiiHiiinmimtnniiininiinnmHmiiHinninimttitmRimHHtiiitminimniiiiMiimnmm^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iinHniinHHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiitiiiniMiHiiiiHiiHiMiiiiiiHiNmniHuiiiiniiiiinuiiiimiiimMiuiiiiwiiiiiuuiiiiiuiimuinuuuumiiiiHiiiiHiiiiinmulm 
 
 THE DEAR OLD HOME" 
 
 Fage Forty-three 
 
itHiininiimiHHnmnnmHniHntnniimiininiimimimmiimiimtmiHffimNmmiminitmiiiimiimiimHimnminiminmimimwHiiiiiitiimiinnmmtti^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 HniiMuiMiiiiiiiiHHiiinitniiiuiMiiiiHiiiiMiHiHiMHuiiHHiniiimi<iiHiiHutimnmiimiMnmH4HHiH<imiHMiniuiiiiNiiiiMnmiiuniHmHiiiniimiiiHiiiMiiiiiiiHimHMiiiiHmiwiiiii^^^ 
 
 When the time came to go, we were full of regret, but the good- 
 bys were said, and after a few days of preparation in New York, we 
 sailed on the 12th of October, 1870, for Queenstown, on the steamer 
 "Algeria" of the Cunnard Line, returning in October of the follow- 
 ing year on a sister ship, the "Abyssinia." These vessels were new, 
 the "Algeria" having gone into service within the year, while the 
 "Abyssinia" was not yet launched. They were steamers of 3300 tons 
 burden, with a length of 363 feet, breadth 42 feet, and except the 
 Great Eastern, were the largest steamers then afloat. They were 
 adapted for the use of sails, but strong headwinds deprived the 
 "Algeria" of any aid they might have given her, and with a rough 
 sea we were ten days in crossing. 
 
 I proved a poor sailor. I had lunch with you in the dining 
 saloon, while still in New York harbor but all other meals in my 
 berth. 
 
 The last night of the voyage, about ten o'clock, you went for 
 your usual walk, but soon came back to say that all the passengers 
 were in the dining saloon celebrating the last night on board by eat- 
 ing "Welsh rabbit" and drinking ale — that much as you wanted 
 some, you could not enjoy it without my company and would I join 
 you if you had our supper brought to the cabin; and there the steward 
 soon came with a tray for each of us, and surely no two passengers 
 were as merry, and enjoyed their supper as much. 
 
 Queenstown, old and quaint and picturesque, delighted us, and 
 the number of little donkeys surprised and amused us. What inter- 
 esting, wise looking little creatures they were ! There was much bray- 
 ing among them, and many were surely justified in complaining, 
 carrying loads out of all proportion to their size. To my eyes the 
 funniest looking loads carried by these mites, were large, burly men 
 whose feet dangled on the ground. They never sat in the middle 
 of the donkey's back, but so far in the rear that it was a mystery how 
 they held on. 
 
 In the afternoon we took a train for Cork. The small compart- 
 ments of the cars seemed very cramped at first. The road followed 
 closely the river Lee and the scenery was charming, with a peculiar 
 softness over everything. Villas, wooded pleasure grounds, walls and 
 ruins of castles covered with ivy, and lovely lawns, green as in the 
 freshness of early spring. 
 
 In Cork, the many bridges, the shops, the people — everything we 
 saw was full of interest. Most of the women wore the Irish cloak, 
 made of black or dark blue cloth — long, full and with a hood. 
 
 Page Forty-four 
 
MEM Q~ j™*^ ";;;_ ~^ ^—.^——..n.^nn^^^, ^ 
 
 Miai>mtmimHuiiimHwiwmHmiHimMniniMiiHiHiirHmmHimiiiiiiiHrnHitHiiMuiMiHiiiMii»iiWHiHiHiuiiiiummMi)ituHHiitHiuHiimiiiHNnHiiirHiiiiiiiiMiiiw<icHimii^ 
 
 It was a day when rain and sunshine followed one upon the other 
 in quick succession, and during a sudden shower we stepped under 
 the awning of a small fruit and vegetable stand. The owner came 
 forward thinking we wanted to buy something, and you explained 
 that we were taking shelter under his roof from the rain. With a 
 kindly smile he gave the delightful reply, "An 'twere a palace ye'd 
 be welcome to it." 
 
 Sunday, October 23, we awoke to the sweet chiming of Shandon 
 church bells of which Father Prout sang, 
 
 "The bells of Shandon, they sound so grand on, 
 The pleasant water, of the river Lee." 
 
 That afternoon we drove to Blarney Castle in a jaunting-car, 
 and what a merry, jolly ride we had. It seemed such a funny little 
 vehicle to us, and how many names we gave it as we went along; you 
 giving one and I the next. It was the jolting-car, the jerking-car, 
 the jarring-car, the jesting-car, the jumping-car, the jingling-car, — 
 then my turn came and I could think of no other word beginning 
 with "j" and called it the John Bull car. 
 
 Upon this, the driver, who had been laughing most of the time, 
 said: "Beggin' yer pardon, lady, it's no a John Bull car." 
 
 And that driver, a type of all we came in contact with — drivers, 
 guides, boatmen and waiters — with their rich brogue, what a coaxing, 
 wheedling lot they were; the young ones wanting to marry soon as 
 they could save a little money — the middle aged and elderly always 
 had large famihes, and to each one, an extra shilling, or even a sax- 
 pence would be »uch a help! 
 
 Our road followed the winding river and the five mile drive was 
 delightful. We found Blarney Castle a picturesque, ivy covered 
 ruin, standing in the midst of a fine grove and near by, a pretty lake, 
 We climbed the turret of the Castle and I was leaning over to kiss the 
 "blarney stone" some feet below. In the effort, I lost my balance 
 and but for the firm hold you had on my skirts — which I had resented 
 as unnecessary — I would have gone head first to the ground. I 
 squirmed and wriggled, and you pulled and at last I was on my feet. 
 I laughed, but you were very serious, and said it was not a laugh- 
 ing matter. 
 
 In going from Cork to Killamey, we had some pretty bits of 
 scenery and then oyer miles and miles of hideous country. Vast 
 tracts of peat and bog-land from which the peat had been removed, 
 
 Page Forty-five 
 
4HmiiiiirHiiuniiiiHHiiiniiiitiiiiiiininiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiimiiuiiiiiiiuumiiiiiiiiimiiiiMiiiiiHiiniiiiiiimiiiinHMHHHiiNiMHiiiimiiiHiiMnii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiiiriiiiniimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiuiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiuii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuimiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiniiiiiiiiiHiiiiiH 
 
 leaving no green in that part of the "Emerald Isle." Dotted thickly 
 over this dreary region were squalid huts — not fit for human habita- 
 tion — where men, women and children in large numbers were moving 
 about. 
 
 At Killarney we made our first real acquaintance with Irish 
 beggars. We had met a few in Queenstown and in Cork, but in 
 Killarney they swarmed. And such clothing! If rags and tatters 
 could be called clothing ! You recalled what Foote said, when return- 
 ing from a visit to Ireland he was asked what he thought of the Irish 
 peasantry. He did not know that he had an answer to that question, 
 but he had solved a problem that had been a constant plague to him, 
 and he now knew what the English beggars did with their cast-ofF 
 clothes. 
 
 In the two mile drive from Killarney to the Lakes fully twenty 
 beggars followed our carriage. iVnd how they could run ! You gave 
 them all the coppers you had, but refused to buy any of the rubbishy 
 things many had for sale; but when near our destination, at my re- 
 quest, you bought a shillalah of a girl who had run beside us, easily 
 keeping up with the carriage when the horses were on a brisk trot. 
 She was about eighteen years of age, of fine physique and beautiful 
 complexion. Her tattered skirts ended at the knees, and from there 
 her legs and feet were bare. Poor girl, and so pretty! I always saw 
 her bright, rosy face when I looked at my shillalah, and felt sorry, 
 when in some way, flitting from place to place, I lost it. 
 
 Those Irish beggars! What a healthy, wholesome looking lot 
 they were! Of the submerged tenth, the first that we had ever seen! 
 
 The lakes of Killarney encircled by soft, purple mountains and 
 dotted with islands were beautiful, and the vegetation a delight. 
 Majestic yews and such lovely holly and arbutus trees. As we were 
 passing Innisf alien Island the boatman said: "There's the biggest 
 holly tree in all the wurruld so people say," and we had no reason to 
 doubt. Over forty feet in height, perfectly symmetrical, with a 
 spread of branch that gave a great circumference, and loaded with 
 large clusters of bright, red berries it was a thing of beauty. And 
 the arbutus trees were equally beautiful! On Arbutus Island where 
 they stood in graceful clumps, nothing could have been lovelier than 
 the crimson, exquisitely-frosted, strawberry-like fruit hanging in 
 bunches beneath the shining, green leaves. 
 
 The echoes for which the Lakes are famous were delightful. At 
 the "Eagle's Nest," a cliff that rose many hundred feet above the 
 
 Page Forty-six 
 
ainiiiniiiiiiiiiiinimiiiinuiiuiinininiiniiiiiniiiniinnuiuiiinnMiiiiiiiiiiniiiHiiiiiiNiiMiitiiiniiniiiiiiuninniinnniiHiiiiiiiintiiiuniiiiiiiniiiimiiiiiiuiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiu^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 ilimiiiiininiiiiiiiniiiiiuiiiiniiHiiiiniiiiiiHiHiniiiHinininnniiinimiiiHiiMimiiniiiiiiriiiiuniiiitiiiiiiiiiiiinuiiinnMiiiiniiiinimiiiiiiiuMinininiiiiHiniiiitu^ 
 
 water we lingered long and musingly, for of that spot it was that 
 Tennyson wrote his, 
 
 "Blow bugles, blow; set the wild echoes flying.'" 
 
 Our boatman had a horn with which he awoke the slumbering echoes 
 in a most melodious way. Often repeated, loud at first, then dying 
 away to exquisite fairy like softness. 
 
 We went to Muckross Abbey and were deeply impressed 
 by the partly restored ruins of church and abbey, and the crumbling 
 walls of a beautiful cloister. We walked across the park to see a 
 pretty waterfall, and in so doing passed near Muckross Mansion, a 
 dignified abode of the Elizabethan period. 
 
 It was all so new and strange; so impressive and beautiful! The 
 ruins of church and abbey and cloister, and this "stately home of 
 England" standing in a great expanse of park and on a velvety 
 sward under majestic trees a herd of deer. 
 
 Coming away full of appreciation, and a subdued happiness, 
 we gave expression to the hope that each of us might long retain 
 that sensation of enthusiastic delight which animates the spirit when 
 looking for the first time upon objects of beauty and interest; and I 
 am thankful to remember. Dear Heart of mine, that during all the 
 years of our happy life together, much of the freshness of feeling and 
 enthusiastic appreciation of younger days remained with us. 
 
 At the Gap of Dunloe, a narrow cleft between high mountain 
 crags we were besieged by fully a dozen ragged men and boys that 
 seemed to have sprung from out the ground or the rocks, so suddenly 
 did they appear. Each had an old musket and each wanted saxpence 
 for firing it off that we might hear the echoes. They were rough and 
 clamorous and unruly. Our guide made a pretence of trying to 
 control them but we suspected later that he himself had notified them 
 of our coming. We were to walk through the Gap, between three 
 and four miles, to the Upper Lake, where a boat would meet us. 
 There was only a bridle path, on one side of which, far below, was a 
 rapid stream. On the other side crags and peaks towering above us, 
 from two to three thousand feet. Before us and behind us an obstrep- 
 erous crowd each with a tale of woe that only a saxpence could allev- 
 iate. Realizing at what a disadvantage we were, and that our time 
 was limited, you thought of a compromise. You would pay two 
 of the party saxpence each for discharging their guns. Two and no 
 more; and the two should be the oldest and youngest of the crowd, 
 
 Page Forty-seven 
 
(wtHMmmtnt»HflHm»mimHHaimHimmi>mmim>nmiHHiuum(mHtHNHiiiamKmiutiiiuiHiHHmmmiimHiiimHmH»uimHmiHuimimnimimirmmHmHm«atH^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 MmMiiiHwiiuwHUHmmiwiuiwtimHtuuniiHMHHimiHiHiiiHiHimHiHmuMmHmuuiuimuiwwiiHUHiiinuiiiiHnmiiiiimiuiniHHHiuiuiHWMiimHHiiiunmiHmHUiiiiHiHMMi^ 
 
 and to each of the others you would give two-pence if they would 
 stop behaving like highwaymen. After a little parley the terms were 
 accepted and then they began quarreling among themselves as to 
 their respective ages. At last that too was settled, but to our surprise, 
 those in front began to walk on, and when you asked why they did 
 not fire oif their guns, you were told "This is not the place! the place 
 is a mile furtherer." We did want to be rid of them, for being in 
 the midst of a dozen ragamuffins stumbling over a rough path, each 
 with a loaded gun swung carelessly over his shoulder was suggestive 
 of unpleasant possibilities. 
 
 At last we reached the place — a bend in the Gap favorable to 
 echoes. Here, two guns were discharged following closely upon each 
 other. The reverberations were almost deafening and very remark- 
 able. The stipulated sums were paid, one old man claiming as he 
 held out his hand, that he was as old as the man that got saxpence. 
 He looked it and his claim was recognized. We parted good friends, 
 every rascal of them taking off his cap and saying, "I wish yees 
 well," the young ones calling out after us that they were going to 
 America. Poor fellows; they were neither degraded nor depraved, 
 only desperately poor, and deep down in the groove and we could 
 only hope that some helping hand might further their wish to go to 
 America, where, you remarked, probably every city and town had its 
 quota of prosperous Irishmen. 
 
 From Killarney we went to Dublin. We looked at the fine 
 buildings of the Irish capital, then took a jaunting car for a ride in 
 Phoenix Park, but a drizzling rain set in and we returned to the 
 Shelburne House where we found a cheerful fire burning in the draw- 
 ing-room. We sat before it until we were warm, and our clothing 
 dry, then out again. We went to St. Patrick's Cathedral where we 
 saw the tombs of Dean Swift and "poor Stella," then under dripping 
 umbrellas we stood before the shop windows perfectly fascinated by 
 the cheapness of clothing — particularly gloves. I bought several 
 pairs at thirty-five cents a pair that looked well and wore well, and 
 you tried a pair at fifty cents. 
 
 When we reached London we went to the Westminster Palace 
 Hotel in the immediate vicinity of Westminster Abbey, the Houses of 
 Parliament and many other objects of interest. We had been in our 
 room but a short time when a clock began to strike the hour — ^loud, 
 clear and with great deliberation. "Dear Heart," said I, "that is 
 surely Big Ben," and going to the window, there, very near, was the 
 beautiful illuminated clock tower of Parliament House. Arm in arm 
 
 Page Forty-eight 
 
(iiHiuiiiiMtiHiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiitiiiiiiiMiiiiiiniiliNiinmiiMiniiiiHiiinimitniimNiiiHimiiiiiiiMiiniiiMiiniiiiiiitriiiMriinnMiMiiHinHiiiiiniitiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiHiiiiiniiiiHitiiniHH>iiiniiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiininniuiiiiniiiiiiiiniiiiHiiiiiiinuiiniiMiiiiuiiiiHiniiuMiHHiiiiiiiiimiiiHiiiiiiiriiiiniitiiHiiiiiiiitiinmiiiiuii^ 
 
 we stood at the window until the last stroke of midnight had sounded. 
 I was too happy to sleep, and few were the hours and quarters of 
 hours recorded by "Big Ben" that night, as the old thief Time car- 
 ried them away, that I did not hear. 
 
 The next morning while at breakfast we saw from the window 
 the passing omnibusses bearing names of streets and localities with 
 which from books we had been long familiar, and now we were going 
 to see for ourselves these streets and these localities. How like a 
 dream it all seemed! 
 
 Our sight-seeing began with Westminster Abbey which we 
 entered with mingled feelings of mystery and reverence. The vastness 
 of the edifice, the long row of monuments on either side, the richness 
 of color, the softened light from the great rose window all combined 
 to make a profound impression upon us. To you, with your love of 
 poetry, the "Poet's Corner" was a sanctified spot, and long we ling- 
 ered there, where grave, and bust, and tablet bore names familiar 
 as household words. 
 
 We saw the beautiful Chapel of Henry Seventh, and the 
 Coronation Chair of which my irreverent pencil wrote, "and a very 
 ugly old chair it is." 
 
 Leaving the Abbey we walked over Westminster Bridge, you 
 quoting the line from Wordsworth suggested by the view, "Earth 
 has not anything to show more fair." 
 
 They were busy, happy, active weeks, those sight-seeing weeks 
 in London. Picture galleries, museums, public buildings, parks, 
 markets and shops; but first and foremost the pictures. 
 
 The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, now one of 
 the great picture galleries of the World, was then in its infancy, but 
 it had a nucleus of fine pictures that stimulated the craving we both 
 felt for the expression of art in its different forms, and now for the 
 first time we had the opportunity of gratifying that craving, and no 
 words could be too extravagant to express the delight the pictures 
 gave us ; but it was fatiguing, exhausting work and after a few days 
 of excess we limited the time we gave to pictures. 
 
 "What is the best way to see London, Dr. Johnson?" asked a 
 new arrival at the Metropolis. 
 
 "The best way to see London, Sir, is from the top of a penn}'^ 
 bus." And that is the way we became acquainted with the great city 
 — from the vantage ground of a penny bus. We i*ode in all directions 
 
 Page Forty-nine 
 
(lummiumiumimNHnmnmmiiiHnimiiiniitniHiiiimiiiuiMiiiiiiiiiHniMiuiiiiHUiMmiimMimiimwiimMiimiinmiHuiiiimiiniHniiiiiiimiHimiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 MiiHiiiinimiiiiiiiitniiiHiiHmimiiiHiiiiiiiiinMiiiinMiiiiiniitHiiiiiiiiinmiiiiitimiiiiiHmiiiiiiHnniNiiiiiinnuHinnniimiinuniiiiniiiimiiH 
 
 and it was not long before you, with the advantage of a good bump 
 of locaKty knew London streets as well as those of New York or San 
 Francisco. 
 
 If upon reaching the top of the bus we could not secure the seats 
 we coveted near the driver, we had but to wait and soon the oppor- 
 tunity would come. And what drivers they were! We always 
 marvelled at the skill with which they threaded their way, steering the 
 clumsy, ponderous vehicle through the congested traffic of the narrow 
 streets. Their wages were low and a tip was gratefully received, 
 while their quaint Cockney dialect was an entertainment in itself. 
 Many were intelligent, some telling interesting things of the streets 
 through which they drove, others were stolid, not knowing or caring 
 to know. One elderly man had a fund of information that was sur- 
 prising. He pointed out to us in Cheapside the site of the Mermaid 
 Tavern where Shakespeare, Ben Johnson and that brilliant circle of 
 friends were wont to meet. Where Milton was born. Where Sir 
 Thomas More was born and where to find the Mitre Tavern fre- 
 quented by Dr. Johnson, Goldsmith and Boswell. 
 
 There is a saying, that "London is the only city in the world, 
 where a well dressed person can eat a penny bun in the streets with- 
 out being stared at" and in the vicinity of the Bank of England, 
 where all traffic seemed to converge, it surely would be true. The 
 Bank of England! That soot begrimed granite structure! Not a 
 window in its outer walls! Immense and gloomy without, and 
 lighted within from many courts and skylights; and how impressed 
 we were by the head doorkeeper, that pompous personage, in impos- 
 ing scarlet liverj^ with a glittering chain of heavy links around his 
 neck and a staff of authority in his hand! 
 
 Near by was the Mansion House, the Royal Exchange, and 
 Guildhall. We went in and out of buildings, in and out of queer 
 alleys and courts and crooked lanes, with odd sounding names; we 
 hunted up places where great men were born, where they had lived 
 and worked, where they had died and where they had been laid to rest. 
 We followed the streets where Dickens beguiled the hours of night 
 when he could not sleep, and hunted up the places identified with 
 his works. 
 
 Tabard Inn was still standing from where Chaucer's Canterbury 
 Pilgrims set out. Temple Bar was there, with the same endless tide 
 of humanity surging through its gates as when Dr. Johnson wrote, 
 "It is my practise when in want of amusement to place myself for 
 an hour at Temple Bar, and examine one by one the looks of the 
 
 Page Fifty 
 
ilittwminininiiiiiHitiinni)iuM<iiitiiiMMiiirniiittniiriimiiM<Mnitiiiitiii<niiiiiiHiHiniiniiinnnunniiiHtitiiiiiiiiiiitiniiuiiinnninniiiiniiinniMnniniiiiiintiinniiitiHiiiiimiN 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 tnmmiiiiHiiiiuiHUiuiiiiiMniHuiiimminiiiiiniiiiiinninHiHiiiiiiiitiiHiiiiiiMiiiiHiiittiiMiiHiuiiiHiHiiiiunniHHiiiHiMtnniMiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiniiiiiiiiuiiiu 
 
 passengers." In a small court off Fleet Street we found the Cheshire 
 Cheese Tavern and looked out from the window, from which Johnson, 
 Goldsmith and Boswell looked, when they dined there and Boswell 
 "made notes of the conversation," after which Dr. Johnson would 
 walk on his beloved Fleet Street touching all the lamp posts that he 
 passed. 
 
 Often we turned from the crowds on Fleet Street to "The 
 Temple" — that most interesting group of buildings. We sat in the 
 pleasant Temple Gardens on the Thames, or rested in the quaint, 
 round Church often looking at the monuments of the Crusaders — 
 recumbent marble figures in full armor, that you said always recalled 
 the lines of Coleridge, 
 
 "The Knight's bones are dust 
 And his sword is rust; 
 His soul is with the Saints, I trust." 
 
 We went to the Tower and saw an endless array of interesting 
 things — ^trophies won by British valor, equestrian figures in armor, 
 the great Kohinoor diamond, crown jewels and all the insignia of 
 the Kingdom — a splendid glittering mass of untold wealth, guarded 
 by old soldiers in quaint attire, with whose pictures we were familiar. 
 The Beefeaters of Old England, officially called the Yoemen of the 
 Guard. 
 
 We looked at the statues and monuments in St. Paul's Cathedral, 
 then went to the crypt, where we saw the magnificent tombs of Nelson 
 and Wellington. There too we saw the graves of Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds, Sir Thomas Lawrence, Turner, Opie and others. A part of 
 the grave of Lawrence was directly beneath one of the furnaces that 
 heated the Cathedral, and over the graves of the other artists, soot 
 begrimed men and boys, laughing and jesting, were trundling wheel- 
 barrows of coal. The inscriptions upon the stones were badly worn 
 and in a few years would be entirely eiFaced. 
 
 We went to the British Museum many times, and went away as 
 often discouraged by the hopelessness of making any headway in the 
 vast and wonderful collection. Plodding wearily along one day, with 
 the heavy catalogue in my hand, I said, "Why it would take a life- 
 time to see all the things here," and you — 
 
 "That is what Holmes thought, when talking with a young 
 American who boasted that he was going to see it all. Holmes ad- 
 vised him 'take lodgings next door, pass all your days in the Museum, 
 and if you live to be three score and ten, you wiU have some faint 
 conception of its contents.' " 
 
 Page Fifty-one 
 
tiimniiiiinnmimHMnniHiiiiiinnmnnraiiiiiiinmiuimniiimimmniiNiiHHmnimiiimiiinimmHmnmiiimnmnmnHmninummminiinnimimiiiimiimimtmimiHH^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 (iimimiiiHiiiiiiiiii iiiiuiiiiiiiiinniiiiiiMUuiiiiunHiiHiiiMiiiuiiiiiMimHHiiimiuiiimniiiniiiinuiHiniiHiiniiiiiuiHMiiiicimiiiimiintMiiintnrinnnitnMniiiintMiiiiuiiiHiiHiMM^ 
 
 We enjoyed the South Kensington Museum, and took a lively 
 interest in the beautiful Albert Memorial not yet completed. We 
 heard Mr. Spurgeon preach. Fervent rather than eloquent, my 
 pencil recorded. 
 
 We enjoyed Hyde Park — the equestrians in Rotten Row and 
 the driving. Sometimes we saw Queen Victoria, frequently the 
 Prince of Wales, and nearly always, Alexandra, the lovely Princess 
 of Wales. The Sunday morning church parade entertained us very 
 much. 
 
 We visited Mme. Tussaud's Waxwork Exhibition interested in 
 costumes of the past and faces of famous persons, until we came to 
 Lincoln and Grant — they were such caricatures that we lost faith in 
 likenesses. 
 
 We did our sightseeing under trying conditions. The weather 
 was "beastly" — drizzling rain almost continuous; but fatigue and 
 weather did not count. 
 
 Covent Garden Market saw us often as early morning visitors, 
 admiring the tempting and beautiful hot-house fruits and flowers, and 
 that night, we would be at Covent Garden Opera House, where 
 Titiens, Trebelli Bettini, Sessi and Cotogni were singing to delighted 
 audiences. Adelaide Neilson, that bright particular star, was shining 
 in the dramatic firmament and all London was at her feet. Her 
 pictures were everywhere, and Drury Lane Theater was packed from 
 pit to dome whenever she appeared. We went to see and hear the 
 beautiful, gifted being with every change of bill. We went to the 
 Haymarket and other theaters and saw all the actors and actresses of 
 reputation in London at that time. 
 
 One night we went to the then famous Cremorne Gardens — a 
 gathering place of the demi-monde. The gardens were extremely 
 pretty and the lighting of them, charming ; the light coming through 
 some transparent substance fashioned to represent different flowers. 
 The entertainment we thought little of. The principal feature being 
 a bevy of pretty, young girls wearing the evening dress of men. 
 Crowds followed them everywhere and laughed at their unbecoming 
 antics. 
 
 One feature of London life that surprised us, was the amount of 
 intemperance we saw in both sexes. It shocked us to see through 
 open doors, women standing beside men at a public bar, and drinking. 
 We saw them in cheap bar rooms, and in saloons adorned with 
 mirrors, and bright with gilding — we saw women and children going 
 in and coming out of these places with bottles and jugs and it 
 
 Page Fifty -two 
 
MmfmimitiiiiiiiiHniimitiHniniiiiiiimiiniHmiiiiniiimniHniiimiinimnminuiiiiinmtiimiiiimninnnnmiiiiniiiiiiimHiMiiiinnnniiiniHMiM^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iintHHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiHHiiiiiiiiniinHiuiiiiiiiiiiiiHimii iiiiiiiniiniiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiuitiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiunM 
 
 was not an unusual thing to see a woman staggering along the streets, 
 or in charge of a policeman, screaming and ranting as she was made 
 to move on. 
 
 We had looked forward with interest to the "Lord Mayor's 
 Show" when with pomp and ceremony the newly elected official 
 would be escorted through the streets of the City to take the oath of 
 office. On that day London awoke blanketed in what the Londoners 
 call, a pea soup fog — greenish-yellow and thick. We could feel it, 
 and smell it, and taste it, and see it, but not see through it. Every- 
 body blinked and wheezed and coughed. Cabs and busses were 
 lighted, policemen carried lanterns and constantly blew their whistles 
 of warning. Museums and all public buildings were closed — reading 
 and writing were impossible — there was absolutely nothing to do. 
 
 In the afternoon the fog lifted a little, and as the ceremony 
 could not be postponed, we took a hansom and went to the banking 
 house of Bowles Brothers. Our driver carried a lantern in one hand 
 and led the horse mth the other. "What a bilious looking commun- 
 ity," you said, as at a snail's pace we made our way; and how we did 
 laugh at what we called the hobgoblins — men and women with res- 
 pirators tied over their noses and mouths. 
 
 It was all weird and unnatural! The heavy pall of fog and 
 smoke seemed to rest, a solid mass, on the tops of the houses. At 
 three o'clock a band of music passed, followed by the gorgeous State 
 Carriage, in which the Lord Mayor sat, drawn by four horses with 
 showy trappings; then another band of music, some handsome ban- 
 ners, a small detachment of soldiers, and the procession was over. 
 After it, came a hatless crowd of men and boys, hooting and yelHng 
 and knocking off every hat they could lay their hands on. This 
 pastime the London roughs could enjoy without fear of the police, 
 for two hours after the procession on Lord Mayor's Day. 
 
 We took short walks in the parks, wintry though they were, and 
 ah, what delightful strolls we had on Piccadilly and Pall Mall, and 
 how we enjoyed the shop windows! New Bond Street with the great 
 jewelry establishments. Regent Street with emporiums of clothing, 
 and the poulterers' stands with their wonderful display of game birds, 
 partridge, grouse, pheasant, woodcock, plover, snipe and smaller 
 birds — also a variety of ducks. Game that year was plentiful and 
 moderate in price, and you felt rebellious at the almost prohibitory 
 prices charged at the hotel. We had been in London two weeks, 
 when turning one day from a poulterer of whom you had inquired 
 prices, you suggested that we might enjoy lodgings, and do our own 
 
 Page Fifty-three 
 
•ttHirnnirrnnimmuiiimmiiimniHnmimmnRiriimitnmnrtmumwwntHimmmnmiHnnniminmtmimimmminnmmmnHiiimrmrmnnimtmimiminmim 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iinMmiHUiHuiiiiMiuiiuiiiiiiuuHnNHiiHniiuiiiiiiiiiiiiHiniuiiutimHHminmHWHHtHiHiimiHituiimminiiniiuiiiiiiiHiiiiHiUMimHiiiiitiinrnMniiiitnniniiRNitiiiii^ 
 
 marketing. I accepted the suggestion eagerly, having a reason of 
 my own. 
 
 At an adjoining table in the dining room of our hotel, sat an old 
 gentleman and lady with their daughter, and a son who was a mem- 
 ber of Parliament. We put the old gentleman down as being verj'' 
 crusty and crabbed, particularly at breakfast time when he was 
 always finding fault with the waiter. It was either his tea, or his 
 toast, or his fish, or his bacon, or his newspaper, the Times — that was 
 never right — never sufficiently warmed and dried, and often the 
 waiter was sent away with it, and when he brought it back crackling 
 with heat, the old gentleman would say, "Now, that is something 
 like." After a day or two of breakfasting and dining beside this 
 little family, they became very sociable, taking a keen interest in 
 what we were seeing and doing from day to day, and making many 
 kind and helpful suggestions. One attitude of the old gentleman 
 that I felt strongly inclined to resent, while you were amused by it, 
 consisted in his frequent expressions of surprise at the extent of your 
 knowledge concerning London, his favorite remark being, "Why 
 bless my heart, and do you know about that?" The mother and 
 daughter, and all the English ladies came to dinner in full dress — 
 decollete, and sweeping gracefully along in trailing gowns, and after 
 a time I became decidedly uncomfortable. I longed to be, where 
 after a hard day's work, I could sit down to dinner in my street dress 
 and be at peace with myself and the World. 
 
 One morning after chatting through breakfast, you told our 
 neighbors we must say good-by as we were leaving the hotel that 
 day. They were surprised and full of regret. When you said you 
 had taken lodgings, the old gentleman followed with, "So you are 
 going into apartments/^ emphasizing apartments, and giving us to 
 understand that lodgings was not the proper word to use. 
 
 We had secured apartments with an agreeable woman who in 
 answer to your question if she had any experience in cooking game 
 birds, answered that a gentleman who had occupied her drawing room 
 floor for three years, and was still with her, and who was himself a 
 sportsman, said there was not a chef in London who could send a 
 bird to table more perfectly cooked than she. As that was what you 
 particularly wanted, terms were soon arranged, and the following 
 day we were in possession. We had two good sized rooms, somewhat 
 dingy from the London atmosphere, but not shabby, and scrupulously 
 clean. There were several pieces of old fashioned furniture, the bed 
 being the most remarkable. That, Mrs. W. said, was very old and 
 
 PAge Fifty-four 
 
•MmiHHiHiiiHmiiiHimiMiiHimiiHiiiuiiiiHiiiiiHiuiiimtiittiiiuiHiinimwHWHinHHiiuimiiiiHmniiniKiiiuiiiiiiiiiniiMiniiiiHHniHnitiMiiiniMiiiHiiiiMn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 «HHiHiiiiiMiiiiiMiiiuiiiiiiiii<iiiiiiiiiiiiininininuuHiiiinuiniMuiiuiHuiiuiiutuiimunuiiMiuiiHMuiwniiiiiiniiiiiiiHiiiiHtiiiniiiiiuiiiiiiiiMiiiuiiiniiiiHiiHin 
 
 had come from the house of a great family. It was of solid mahog- 
 any, with four richly carved posts and so high that on each side stood 
 a step-ladder of five or six short steps by which access to it was 
 gained. The table on which we dined was of the same wood and 
 matched the bed in richness of carving. What a find, those two 
 pieces of furniture would have been for a collector! 
 
 You did the marketing and each day as we were finishing dinner 
 Mrs. W. would come to ask if everything had been "to our liking," 
 and on Sunday when she appeared in a black satin gown, so rich in 
 texture that "it would stand alone" with a bit of real lace at her 
 throat and wrists she was a strikingly handsome woman. 
 
 That first evening in our new quarters, what a delight it was! 
 After an excellent dinner, including a brace of young birds, done to 
 a turn, we sat before a brightly burning fire, comfortable, contented, 
 supremely happy and thankful to be away from the brilliant dining 
 room of the hotel, together, and alone! Then it was that I told you 
 why I had been so glad to change from the hotel to quiet quarters. 
 
 How heartily you laughed, and said, "the old gentleman wore a 
 dinner coat and the son a dress coat, but that did not make me un- 
 comfortable," to which I answered, "of course not, because you are 
 just a man, and cannot understand such things," and then I have a 
 memory of an endearing name, as you accused me of being "sly," 
 adding "and all the time I fancied that your only thought was of 
 me." 
 
 Memories, memories! what dear, dear memories they are! 
 
 We were waited upon at table by a young girl in a black dress 
 with snowy cap and apron. She was one of that large class, that 
 add so much to the comfort of sojourners in the lodgings and modest 
 apartments of London. Slaveys, poor slaveys ! This one of ours was 
 a type of all! She put a high polish on your shoes, brushed our 
 clothes, ran on errands and was willing and ready at all times for any 
 extra service, while her extra tips were such a source of undisguised 
 delight that the giving of them was a pleasure to remember. Poor 
 little slavey, with her funny bobbing curtsies and her smile that 
 went nearly from ear to ear! Reaching home sometimes at an un- 
 usual hour, we would come upon her scrubbing the floors, wearing 
 a nondescript kind of garment and looking as though she had 
 crawled through a coal bin, but there was always the smile and the 
 curtsy, as she jumped up and stood aside waiting for us to pass. 
 
 During our stay of a month with Mrs. W. only one thing occur- 
 red that we would have liked different. From our first stroUs about the 
 
 Page Fifty-five 
 
'HiiiuiiiiuiiHiHiiiiniiiuiiiiuuMMMiniininiiinMNniinniiiniiHiiHiHiiiinmiumiinNiniiintiiiirHiniiiiiiiiiiinHMiiniiiiHtMniiHiiiiiiniiiiiiniiiMinm^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iHiiMMiiiiiiiiniiiMniininiuiiiiiiiiiHiiMicuHiiMiiniiHiinniiiMniuninniiiiiiiiiiHiniiiMiuiMiiiiiinnHiiiiiiMiiHiinnMnMiiiMiiHiiiHMminiinHiiiirHiiiiiiiinnniiiinn^ 
 
 London streets, the hot-house melons at the fruit stands had attracted 
 your attention. They ranged in price from four to six shiUings, and 
 when I urged you to buy one, and satisfy your curiosity, you always 
 answered, "there is no melon worth a dollar and a half to me, nor 
 even a dollar," but one morning when the supply was unusually 
 large and fine, you sent home, with other things, a five shilling 
 melon. When our dinner was served, the little maid brought some- 
 thing in a large vegetable dish that looked like summer squash. To 
 our inquiry she said she did not know what it was. She was sent 
 down stairs to ask, and also to bring up the melon. Of course the 
 dreadful suspicion had flashed through both our minds, which the 
 little maid soon confirmed. The hot-house melon had been boiled and 
 served as a vegetable. Poor Mrs. W., she was much distressed, 
 and relieved when the matter w as passed over lightly. 
 
 In San Francisco we had drawn up our plan of travel and 
 expected to go from London to Paris; but that summer the Franco- 
 Prussian war had come, and when we were ready to go to the 
 Continent, Paris was besieged and a victorious German army was 
 lying at her gates; so instead of Dover, Calais and Paris, it was 
 Dover, Calais and Brussels. 
 
 In Calais we realized that we were in a foreign land, and that 
 Great Britain had surrounded us with a kind of home atmosphere 
 that was very pleasant. 
 
 The narrow channel crossed and what a dilFerence in everything. 
 Such a difference in architecture! Instead of houses that looked like 
 homes, we saw great structures where people lived, with a gateway 
 and central court by which they reached their abodes. 
 
 Such a difference in the language that we heard on every side, 
 and saw on signs over the doors of shops. 
 
 Such a difference in people, particularly of the working class. 
 We had seen the English workmen, serious, and clad in garments 
 that told of toil and privation — here were the cheerful, bustling 
 Frenchmen in neat, blue working blouses. We had seen the poor 
 English women dressed in castoff finery, their hats trimmed with 
 faded, crumpled flowers and ribbons — here were the French women 
 in trim, black dresses, without hats and, their hair neatly arranged. 
 Oh, those coiffures, how admirable they were and are! 
 
 The streets were full of soldiers and we saw many priests, with 
 three-cornered hats, long frock coats and knee breeches. 
 
 Soon after we had taken our places in the train for Brussels, 
 three Frenchmen entered the compartment engaged in animated 
 
 Page Pifty-six 
 
.MtitimitiiniinmiininiiiiiiimiimttnniinMiinitiiiiiiniiiiiiinintiiiniuinniiiniiiniiiiiiimiHiiiiiiMiiiiiimniiininiiiiniuuiiniiiiiniiinininMiiiiiiinimiiiniuiiiniiiiiiiniin^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiMiiiiiiiniMiiiuiiiNiniiiiiiiuiuiiHiiiiiiiiiiniiiiHiiHiiniiHiiMinniiiitiniiiiiiniiMiiiiinimiinHriiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiMiiii»iiniMninMriMHiiiHHuiiiii:iitiiiitiiimiiiHitH 
 
 conversation. Two were army officers and the other a civilian. Their 
 talk was rapid and excited and frequently all were speaking at the 
 same time. You and I were all ears, and listened eagerly. Yes, we 
 listened, and listened, and listened, looked at one another and smiled, 
 for each knew of what the other was thinking. 
 
 After a while you asked, "Can you understand what they are 
 saying?" 
 
 "Scarcely a word," I answered, and a disagreeable fact forced 
 itself upon us. 
 
 From school days, both of us had been able to read French, and 
 when we had decided upon spending a year in Europe, we had 
 engaged a French teacher, a splendid old fellow, who had a system 
 by which the art of conversation was readily acquired. We could 
 hold animated talks with him, and amusing talks with each other "a la 
 Ollendorf ," and it never dawned upon us that if we could understand 
 our teacher and one another, we should have any difficulty in under- 
 standing any one else, but here we were in France, listening to a 
 French conversation, and the system had broken down completely. 
 Now and then we could catch the familiar name of a well known 
 General — we knew they were talking about the war, and abusing 
 the Germans, but we knew that, from intuition; so we gave up 
 listening and sadder and wiser turned our attention to the country, 
 through which we were passing. 
 
 We found Brussels a charmingly attractive city with splendid, 
 well built boulevards, grand trees, handsome houses, and clean, well 
 paved streets. We enjoyed the Museum of Fine Arts, and the noble 
 Cathedral, but most of all the Old Square where, for the first time, 
 we saw specimens of that glorious Medieval architecture so common 
 in Belgium. That wonderful architecture, much of which during 
 this cruel, senseless World War has been wickedly and ruthlessly 
 destroyed by the Germans. There were many attractive and quaint 
 buildings in the Old Square but the Hotel de Ville, with its 364 feet 
 of beautiful Gothic spire (up which we climbed), and the Maison 
 de Roi, were the two that we most delighted in. That lovely Old 
 Square with its flowers and quaint architecture! I pray the German 
 army of invasion in Belgium may leave it as they found it! 
 
 Going out from the Hotel de I'Europe we found that Jack 
 Frost had been busy during the night. The ground was frozen hard, 
 plants killed and icicles hung from the rims of fountains. 
 
 We left Brussels the following morning. From Liege on, the 
 
 Page Fifty-seven 
 
MuniiHHnitiuimiiiiNiiiiniiiiitiitiHiiHmHitiHtttMiiHMiitHmminiiuiNimnwiiminiHimiHiiiuiiimiiiiiiuiUHiuiiitiiinmiiniiHiiimniiinHiimimiiiiimn^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 niinuiiHiuiMMiiiiiniiiimiiiinninunimiiiiiMiiiiniiiiiHininMiiHiniiiMiiiiiiiiiniinumiiiiimuniNimmuniiiinnirMnMriiiniinimmiuiiiiiiMitiiniiiinmiiiniiMiiini^ 
 
 scenery was wild and picturesque, but winter had come. The trees 
 were leafless and the country a vast bed of snow. 
 
 We reached Cologne at four o'clock, and there, at the Hotel 
 Disch, made acquaintance with many customs strange to us. At the 
 table d'hote dinner the first thing a German did, after sitting down, 
 was to take something from his pocket and slip it around the back 
 of his neck. It was either a chain or strip of ribbon on which was 
 embroidered a motto, or initials; to these by clasps at the ends, the 
 napkin was attached and spread out at full size under the chin. As 
 the dinner progressed everybody was wreathed in smoke, as smoking 
 seemed to be as much a part of the entertainment as eating. 
 
 There, too, at the Hotel Disch, we made acquaintance with the 
 uncomfortable German bed. Always single and very narrow; the 
 upper sheet turned over a heavy, bright-colored blanket and fastened 
 all around by buttons and buttonholes ; being only a trifle larger than 
 the mattress, there was no margin for turning under or tucking in. 
 Two immense, fluffy pillows the width of the bed, and square ; a very 
 hard, wedge-shaped bolster with a steep incline; a small eiderdown 
 quilt just the width of the bed, and square; (a dwarf could not have 
 curled up into a small enough compass to have covered both his 
 shoulders and his feet). What funny, ridiculous beds, and how 
 heartily we did laugh at sight of them! 
 
 At night when we went to our room, we found that a maid had 
 turned down the blanket and left the pillows and bolster undisturbed 
 so we knew that the beds were ready to be occupied. I suggested 
 re-arranging them but you said you were going to try yours as it 
 was — that you were tired and could sleep anywhere, and that we were 
 not sure but that the German idea of a bed might be a good one 
 although it differed from our own. 
 
 As I got into my little bed I determined that I too would make 
 the best of it; but I tried in vain. I told you it was impossible — 
 that I could not sleep sitting up in bed. You answered drowsily, 
 "You will never be a good traveler until you learn to adapt yourself 
 to circumstances." 
 
 A short pause and I said, "Of one thing I am sure — no German 
 can truthfully say. Now I lay me down to sleep/' but you were 
 already in the land of Nod, and I got no answer. A little later I 
 threw the pillows and bolster on the floor. I was not comfortable, 
 but I could at least lie down. The next morning you were loud in 
 denunciation of the German bed — your neck was stiff" — ^you had been 
 miserably cold and had spent most of the night in changing the posi- 
 
 Page Fifty-eight 
 
rH«HiHUHumunuimHnmmuHiiuHimiiMiinHUHiMnHtitiMiiiirnitMmiiiiitHinnnHmmNiimitHmniimtimii»nmmmnKmmwumHnmHiHtttnnmimiHttr^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 liiHiuuiimiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiuiMiiiiiuiiiuuiminuinHiiiiiMHiiiiHiuwiHiHmuumHtniiHiiHiiiuiiiiiiHWNiiHiuwiititiMmiuiinniiiiiuuuuMiwuiHHniwiMiuiimi^ 
 
 tion of the little eiderdown quilt, warming your feet and shoulders in 
 turn. Thereafter we always remade German beds before getting 
 into them. 
 
 Directly after breakfast next morning we went to the Cathedral, 
 The majestic imposing Cathedral! High overhead were pinnacles, 
 spires, arches and buttresses ; and there were grotesque gargoyles and 
 carved figures; and the interior was vast and grand with stately 
 columns, statues and glorious windows of old stained glass. Oh, 
 those windows! The sun shining through them brought out the 
 exquisite colors, that lay like bits of rainbow on floor and pillars! 
 The main front of the Cathedral was covered with scaffolding and it 
 was ten years later, that the beautiful facade with its superb portals 
 and massive towers, from which spring the graceful spires, was un- 
 veiled before a large assemblage that included the German Emperor. 
 We looked at the fine, old pictures in the Museum and bought two 
 bottles of Ean de Cologne, one of which later gave us trouble. 
 
 An old German in my Father's employ, who came from Cologne 
 told us of the storks building their nests on the chimneys of tall 
 buildings, and after finishing with the sights put down in our guide- 
 book, we went on a little expedition of our own. We soon located a 
 number of storks' nests, but you were not content with that, so you set 
 about interviewing the people who harbored them. As we suspected, 
 the storks had migrated to warmer climes, but were sure to return to 
 their old homes in the spring. 
 
 We learned that they were cherished guests because of the 
 superstition that a stork's nest built upon property ensures its good 
 luck, and a pleasant, buxom, friendly woman, who spoke English 
 quite well, told us that she and her husband and many of their friends 
 gladly paid a somewhat higher rent to be located in a building to 
 which a stork had attached its nest. These good people had a good 
 sized cutlery shop, and gave every evidence of being prosperous. 
 
 You enquired about some frame like objects that we frequently 
 saw upon high chimneys or gables, and learned they were structures 
 erected in the hope that storks would build nests there, but that the 
 birds never changed their habitations, patching them up from year 
 to year, and that unless the colony was enlarged by new comers, no 
 new nests were ever built. We were still pursuing our inquiries about 
 the storks, when a furious snow storm set in that sent us scampering 
 back to the hotel. 
 
 Whenever during the winter, in going from one place to another, 
 we found that the time required was over ten or twelve hours we 
 
 Page Fifty-nine 
 
inHtiiiiMniiiMiniiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiniiniiiniiiiiiiiHiiiitmiiiHiiiiiiiniiiiiniiiniiniiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinmiiMiniiiiiHiiniiiiiiiniHiiimimiiiniiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiumiinniiinnHiMiiiiUMiiMiiHiMiiiiniiMinminiHiiiMiiiMiiiiitiinuiimimiinniniimniniiuMnMiiiiiinmiiniininiinniuiiiiiiiiuMiMiMiniHitniniMnininiiiiiniinH 
 
 traveled at night. We thought that better than breaking the jour- 
 ney and spending the night in the cold, uncomfortable rooms of an 
 hotel for which a good price must be paid. High, porcelain stoves 
 were the only means of w^arming the rooms, and it was only after fire 
 had been burning for hours, that any degree of warmth was percept- 
 ible, and when morning came, it was either to get up and dress in a 
 bitterly cold room, or ring for a servant to light the fire, and waste 
 precious hours in bed waiting for the room to be warmed. 
 
 There were then no comfortable — Schlaf-wagens — and no means 
 of warming the cars except by frequently renewed long, flat, metal 
 cylinders of hot water. The weather was very cold and at every 
 station the guard would throw open a door, letting in a wintry blast. 
 We wrapped ourselves in our steamer rugs, and sat each in our 
 corner getting what rest and sleep we could. Now and then you 
 would emerge like a crysalis from your shell to see if you could do 
 anything to add to my comfort, and occasionally the stop at a station 
 would be long enough to enable you to bring two steaming cups of 
 hot coffee, but we always welcomed the morning light that ushered in 
 the sociable day, and gave us some idea of the country through which 
 we were passing. 
 
 The trains w^ere slow. We traveled by the Schnellzug — express 
 train — and were fifteen hours in going from Cologne to Berlin, 
 a distance of 360 miles, and study time tables — for which there 
 was always a charge — as you would, you never found that any train 
 made better time than that by which we made our first night journey. 
 Here for the first time we saw fourth-class cars, with wooden benches 
 around the sides, in which market men and women rode, and carried 
 their baskets. 
 
 In 1870 Prussia was but a German state and Berlin far from 
 the new and splendid city it has become, since being the capital of a 
 great empire. Now, there are miles and miles of streets lined with 
 magnificent structures, Government and public buildings in which 
 gilding and elaborate decoration freely appear. There are splendid 
 theaters and music halls, and gorgeous hotels, and there are perfectly 
 paved streets so thoroughly washed and mopped and sponged each 
 day that the streets of no city in all the world compare with them in 
 cleanliness. 
 
 In the Berlin that we first knew there were miles and miles of 
 quaint little houses built on narrow streets, where the sidewalks were 
 shabby and the roadways paved with cobblestones. There were 
 only open sewers, and surface drains, and the water for drinking 
 
 Page Sixty 
 
iiiiiHHUiiiHHiitiitHinnumHnmiiHiHiniiiiiiimiiiiminHniiiiittimiiunnttmNiniHimniiiiiiiHiiiimnnmiMmiriHHitmiimmnnmininiMiiiimtiiimiiiiniir^^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 MMHMIItmilllWIIIIIItllUIIHIIIHUIIHIIIIIIHUIIIUIIMUIIIIIHIIIIHnillHnNiniMIIIHHIIimUIIIHIIMIIIIUHNIIHHIWUHIIIIUUIIIIIIIIIIUimmHIIUlim 
 
 and all other purposes came from pumps scattered plentifully about. 
 In fact the Berlin that we first knew was said to be the most unsani- 
 tary city in Europe. 
 
 But ah me! How we did enjoy our stay! How we did revel in 
 music. Dear Heart of mine! Going every evening to opera or con- 
 cert. The prices were low and the music delightful. 
 
 At the attractive Royal Opera House we heard the Meistersinger 
 and the Fliegende Hollander. The only singer known to fame, was 
 Nieman, with a beautiful tenor voice; but there was an even excel- 
 lence in the entire cast, that, with a fine orchestra and chorus, made a 
 finished and delightful performance. 
 
 Scattered plentifully over the house were women busily engaged 
 in knitting — they were wonderfully expert, only looking at their 
 work when placing a needle in a new position. It was a plainly 
 dressed audience, and in marked contrast to the brilliant spectacle 
 presented by an audience at Covent Garden Opera House. 
 
 At that time chignons were the fashion. At home women were 
 wearing them of moderate size. English women of exaggerated 
 size, and the heads of the German women did look odd, with their 
 hair closely braided and pinned down flat as possible. 
 
 The opera began at six or six-thirty and ended at ten or ten- 
 thirty. 
 
 When we did not go to the opera, we went to a Bilse concert. 
 The concerts were given in a large, handsome hall by a fine band of 
 seventy musicians. People sat crowded around tables. All the 
 women were industrious; the middle-aged knitting, the young em- 
 broidering, while the men smoked and drank beer. At intervals 
 something to eat would be ordered; then the ladies would put down 
 their work and every one in the party would have beer — glasses for 
 the ladies, steins for the men. The first part of the concert was 
 devoted to classical music, beautifully rendered. We always remained 
 to the end, enjoying the popular music of the second part, and the 
 student songs, and marvelled at the capacity of the German stomach 
 as we saw steins of beer without number poured into it. 
 
 In addition to opera and concert, there was the martial music — 
 the splendid military bands, and troops marching to the sound of fife 
 and drum. Indeed we could truthfully say that our days began with 
 music, for every morning in the gray dawn of the short winter day 
 there marched past the Hotel de Rome, a regiment of infantry with 
 one of those incomparable bands. 
 
 We heard the strains of music faintly at first, then increasing 
 
 Page Sixty-one 
 
«iiwiiiMHiinm«iiiumiiuiHimnmiiiHunitnHHimmiiiHmimmK)miimimiiiHNniNimniiiniiminimiiiiiimnitiiiHniHinniHHiiiHniiiiiiiiiiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 MWminMIUIUIIIMIIIIUHIIIIMIIUIIIIIHMMIHNIHnninilMnillllllllUnillllllUIIHMIMIIIIINUIIHUNIIIMUIIIMIUWMIUIIUniMIIIUIUHHUIIHIIHUIMinilinillHIIIUII^ 
 
 until with a gi'eat volume of sound, the regiment passed, and gradual- 
 ly the music died away in the distance. I often got up and went to 
 a window to see and admire the perfect, rhythmic marching of the 
 men, and soon knew the kind of music that brought out the goose-step 
 which I was always on hand to see; you remarking more than once, 
 that never before had you known me to be good natured over any- 
 thing that deprived me of my morning nap. We knew of course that 
 it all meant war, but even so, we realized that when we said good-by 
 to Berlin we should miss the well built officers in full uniform, with 
 spurs on their heels, and swords that clanked on the sidewalks as they 
 strode along with bumptious gait, and the strains of martial music 
 that so frequently filled the air. 
 
 There were many statues and monuments in the streets com- 
 memorating heroes and victories. We found some good pictures 
 in the Museum of Art and in the New Museum a series of pic- 
 tures just completed by Kaulbach, then past seventy years of 
 age. The pictures delighted us so much that we wanted, if possible, 
 to see the artist, and one day we stood before a studio door that bore 
 upon it the name — Wilhelm von Kaulbach. Mr. Kaulbach, who 
 spoke English fluently, received us kindly and spoke beautifully of 
 art and the pleasure his work had given him through his long life. 
 He asked many questions about "far off San Francisco." Indeed 
 all the people we met during that year in Europe, with whom New 
 York was a familiar word and Chicago not unheard of, spoke of San 
 Francisco as being at the uttermost boundary of the earth, and were 
 much interested to hear of the railroad that spanned the Continent — 
 marvelled at the short time — then a week — required for the journey, 
 and marvelled still more to hear of the comfortable sleeping cars. 
 
 As we came away Mr. Kaulbach asked if we had noticed a small 
 picture of his, called Dorothea at the Well, suggested to him by some 
 lines in Goethe's Herman and Dorothea. Yes, we had seen the pic- 
 ture and admired it. Then Mr. Kaulbach turned to you and said: 
 "Your wife reminds me of the young friend who posed for that pic- 
 ture, now, many years ago. If you chance to see it again, look for 
 the hkeness." 
 
 We went to see the Royal Palace! We presented ourselves at a 
 door that had been pointed out, and an armed sentry came from 
 his box and conducted us to la room where about a dozen people were 
 already waiting. When twenty had assembled, that being the reg- 
 ulation number, a guide in Court livery, carrying a big bunch of keys, 
 appeared. We followed him up a long, winding, inclined way to a 
 
 Page Sixty-two 
 
•NUHHmmHinmtiHtmiiiniiiniuHiniiniiimnininiumumiiiminiiHHiiniiiiiiHiiiiiHiniiMinuiiiraniimuiiiiniiiiiniiiuimnHmiiimimiiiiimiiiiiiH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 WiiiwiuiiiiMiiiniMiiiiiMiiiiHiituHiiuiiHiHiiiiiHiniiiiiiitiitmiiiiuiHiinniitiiiiiitiiuMiiiiiiNiiiniiiiiiiMiitiaiiiiiiiiinHiniiiuiniiiiiiuitiiiininiiiiiH 
 
 large room, where from la chest he counted out twentj'- pairs of enor- 
 mous, white, woolen sHppers, which every one of us understood were 
 to be put on that we might not mar or scratch the highly polished in- 
 laid floors. As you and others were stepping into the slippers, I 
 whispered to you that I would not put any on — that I had no nails 
 in my shoes, and that I rather not see the old palace. I was all 
 rebellion, and indignation. You answered that I must find my way 
 out, take a cab and go to the hotel. 
 
 The guide meanwhile had thrown open a door and I soon found 
 myself alone with him — he jingled his keys and glowered at me, so I 
 jumped in the one remaining pair of scows and found that I could 
 shuffle with the best. I soon caught up with you and put my hand 
 on your shoulder. You turned your dear face toward me, smiled, 
 and simply said: 
 
 "Glad to see you. I thought you would come." 
 
 But what a ridiculous, comical looking crowd we were, shuffling 
 and sliding and slipping and scuffing along, the men not so laughable 
 as the women, ^vith one big white foot after another, appearing and 
 disappearing from beneath their dark skirts. 
 
 There were between seven and eight hundred rooms in the 
 palace, most of them large, and many immense. How many hun- 
 dred we shuffled through we never knew. We carried away in our 
 minds a confused mass of what we had seen: Tapestries, statues, 
 pictures, mirrors, frescoes and precious stones; colored marbles and 
 crystal chandeliers; bronze balconies and floors paved with mosaics; 
 and a throne room glittering with gold and silver. Sensible old 
 Emperor William! who preferred to live in the plain, modest edifice 
 that was built for him upon his marriage, and where as Crown 
 Prince he took his bride over forty years ago. 
 
 The Thiergarten, that vast park, with winding paths and fine 
 forest trees, was a pleasant place even in winter and we enjoyed 
 many a brisk walk there. In sunny, sheltered places, nursemaids in 
 charge of chubby German children, gathered. These girls came from 
 little hamlets on the river Spree, and wore short scarlet skirts that 
 stood out like balloons, and quaint three-cornered white head dresses. 
 
 We went to Potsdam and on to San Sonci. While there, 
 wandering through the Orangery a sudden darkness fell over every- 
 thing and down came such a storm of rain and sleet that Frederick 
 the Great and Voltaire and all the associations that linked them with 
 the place were forgotten. The storm continued and the wind blew 
 
 Page Sixty-three 
 
MiiittiiHnimnmiuiiiiiiiiiiitnniiniiiiiiiHMiiMuiimiitHiiimiiiiiHNiiiiimiimniiimiiiiinHiinmiuimiHiuiiiuiiiiiiiriiiiiiniiniiiiiiiiinuiHiiiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiiiiiiiiuiuiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiniininmitnniiitiuHuiuHiiiiiinHiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiuuiuuiiuiniiiiiuiiuiitiiiiitiitiiMiiunnuiuunHiiiiiiuiiniiiiiiiii^ 
 
 icy cold. In the partial shelter of a cab we drove to the railroad 
 station and reached Berlin half frozen. 
 
 The famous "Unter den Linden" disappointed us very much. 
 The trees were small and scraggy and the great width of the street 
 dwarfed all the buildings upon it; but the lively character of that 
 mile long thoroughfare — from the Brandenburg Gate, to the circle 
 of fine structures at the other end — made it ahvays interesting and 
 attractive. 
 
 Over the Brandenburg Gate in a chariot with four horses sat the 
 Goddess of Victory. We thought of that Goddess, when six months 
 later we read of the triumphal march through the portals of the Gate. 
 At the head of the great procession rode, not the King of Prussia, 
 but the Emperor of a united Germany, with the Crown Prince 
 Frederick, Bismarck, Von Moltke and a veteran army flushed with 
 victor}^, and welcomed with tumultous joy; while France, poor mis- 
 guided France was the poorer by five thousand millions of francs 
 indemnity, and the rich, beautiful provinces of Alsace and Lorraine! 
 
 From Berlin to Dresden in five hours. We traveled for the first 
 time in a second class compartment and found it so comfortable and 
 well appointed that we were sorry not to have made the discovery 
 sooner. 
 
 Reaching Dresden, we had the novel and pleasant experience of 
 going from the station to the Hotel de Saxe in a sleigh, with strings 
 of bells on the harness of the horses. All the population seemed to 
 be out sleigh-riding. It was a pretty sight, and the merry jingling 
 of the bells was a musical sound. 
 
 That evening we were fortunate in hearing a delightful sym- 
 phony concert by an orchestra from the Court Theater. The follow- 
 ing morning we joined a party going to the Green Vaults. We saw 
 many lovely things; works of art, in gold, silver and ivory, and a 
 dazzling lot of jewels valued at — our guide book said — 20,000,000 
 dollars. 
 
 Then to the Royal Picture Gallery in the New Museum, a struc- 
 ture of immense size and great architectural beauty. And the pic- 
 tures, the glorious pictures of that large and rare collection; what a 
 treat they were! At one end of the gallery, in a spacious, handsome 
 room, we saw Raphael's Sistine Madonna. Long and patiently we 
 waited for an opportunity to rest on one of the sofas in front of the 
 picture, where enthusiastic groups of people sat by the hour. 
 
 We were to leave Dresden for Vienna at midnight, and to while 
 
 Page Sixty-four 
 
ii»niiiiitiiinriniiiiHiuiiiHiiiMmiHiiiiiMiiMitiiiniintiiiiuiuiiMi»uitmiimtiHimH)iiiiiiHi»MiiniuMnK»iiitniiinitiiiiiiiniitHtiHitiHtiiiitniiiUHiiiiiutMHmitmiHm^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 .iiiHiiiiiiHiiiiiHiMUiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiinuiiiiumiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiHiiwwiHiiiiHiiiiiiMiiiiMiuiiiiMiiuiuHiiiiHiiiiMiiiiiiiniMinHunnuitinn 
 
 away the time we went to hear the Opera of Zar and Zimmerman; 
 poorly sung and so provokingly short that at nine o'clock we found 
 ourselves with three hours of time that we did not know what to do 
 with. 
 
 At three the next morning, the wind blowing a gale, we reached 
 the Austrian border, where baggage was examined and we changed 
 cars. We rode through a wintry, uninteresting country and at four 
 in the afternoon were in Vienna. 
 
 We stopped at the Grand Hotel, famous for the excellence of its 
 cuisine. It was our first experience at such an expensive hotel and 
 we gave ourselves up to the full enjoyment of it. Our room was 
 luxurious, and the dinners! Well, the dinners were a revelation; de- 
 iightful in variety and perfect in every way. The delicate soups, the 
 fish, the game, and the delicious ices all made in the shape of the fruit 
 with which they were flavored. Fortunate it was, you said, for your 
 purse and your constitution, that our stay was to be short. 
 
 And in the morning there were the rolls and the coffee! That 
 unequalled Vienna coffee, and those unequalled Vienna rolls, what a 
 ;treat they were! with the sweet, unsalted butter! and when all the 
 rolls had vanished and you told the waiter to bring more, he looked 
 surprised and embarrassed, and did not seem to understand. 
 
 It had not taken us long to discover, how completely European 
 thrift entered into even the smallest transaction, and thinking that 
 probably an extra roll or two could not be included in our portions, 
 you told the waiter to bring another order of coffee and rolls, where- 
 upon he looked even more surprised, but bowed solemnly and slowly 
 walked away to fill the order. 
 
 We were quite captivated by Vienna and the architectural 
 beauty of its many new streets, although on the Ring Strasse — 
 created by demolishing the fortifications — now lined wnth imposing 
 structures, there stood in 1870 only the Grand Opera House, and a 
 motley collection of ill assorted buildings. Inside this circle was the 
 charming "Old Vienna," bits of which are always shown at Interna- 
 tional Expositions — queer, quaint, little buildings huddled together 
 in the most picturesque manner; and in the very heart of "Old Vien- 
 na" that fine, massive example of Medieval architecture, St. Stephens 
 Cathedral, with its tall, graceful, tapering spire. Within the Cath- 
 edral the soft light that filled all the vast space, from windows of old 
 stained glass, the beauty of the slender columns, the sculpture, the 
 monuments, the smell of incense, and more than all else perhaps, the 
 warmth of the place, so gratified and satisfied me, that I was loth to 
 
 Page Si-vty-five 
 
wintummiminHmiiimiitniitiimMiiinininiiiiitiiiiniiiniiiiiMiuiiiiininiiiiiHitiiHiniinintiiiiniimnnmmiiiiriiniittiiiitiiiiiuiiiiMnuMMiHHniiinniHininiHiiMunnnnnitni^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 (HnmiiNiniinuiiHitiiiiimiiiuiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiunHiitiiuiiiiiiiiHmiiiHiiiuimHiHiiiiiiiimwiiiiiiiiiiiiuHHiuiiuitiiiiiHnHiiiiiniiiiiiiinuuiHiniiiiitiiitiiiin^ 
 
 follow when you w^hispered, We must go. As we were leaving, a 
 group of peasants, men and women, in the picturesque costume of 
 their pro\4nce came slowly in, and knelt, a long devotional row, before 
 their especial shrine. 
 
 In the Belvedere and Hofburg Palaces, and in private galleries, 
 we saw large collections of beautiful pictures, antique bronzes, and 
 varied works of art. 
 
 We drove in the fine, large park, the Prater, and climbed to the 
 top of St. Stephen's Cathedral. The last 50 feet of the climb was 
 something to remember — the winding stairway was on the outside of 
 the spire, with only a slight hand-rail fastened to it. To be 450 feet 
 from the ground, with a high wind blowing, and nothing to anchor to 
 was not pleasant. We saw the city beneath us, the country around 
 and the winding Danube, but when we reached the ground again, we 
 asked ourselves and each other whether it was really worth while. 
 
 We had admired the splendid exterior of the Grand Opera 
 House, and on the occasion of the Beethoven Festival we saw the 
 elegant interior to great advantage. The Opera was Fidelio, the 
 audience a brilliant one, and the music — as at Berlin — was rendered 
 with even excellence, and prices were moderate. Two evenings we 
 heard a Strauss orchestra play the bright, sparkling Strauss music. 
 The concerts were given in a beautiful hall, and refreshments were 
 served in an adjoining room. There was always a large number of 
 handsome, beautifully gowned women. 
 
 We went to a Renz Circus, then a permanent institution in 
 Vienna. There was none of the American clown business, but good 
 music, remarkable horsemanship and clever, amusing acrobatic feats. 
 
 In Vienna, as at Berlin, we were advised to drink mineral water, 
 as the city supply came from surface wells. 
 
 No romantic girl of sixteen ever arrived in Venice with a keener 
 sensation of expectant delight than I felt that December night, when 
 leaving the railroad station, we stepped into a gondola. 
 
 We made our way through devious narrow waterways, and when 
 suddenly we emerged upon the Grand Canal, flooded by glorious 
 silvery moonlight, I could no longer keep my enthusiasm to myself, 
 and laying my hand on your arm I said, "Oh, Dear Heart, isn't this 
 perfectly delightful?" 
 
 Even I felt a drop in the temperature when you answered, "It 
 might be for an Eskimo." 
 
 I accused you of being destitute of all romantic feeling, but had 
 
 Page Sixty-six 
 
«HHinHiHniiHiiiiiHMiiiiiiiiniiiiiinHniuHiMtiiiiiiiiiitiiiniiiiMiHiiiininmiininiiiiinuiMi(iMiiiiitmiinnmiiitiiiiiiniiitiinnirniinnnminitiiiiiiiimnmtiimtt^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 WHiiuiiMiniiiuMinnininiiHimiiiMiiiHiiiiiuiniiMiniiuiiiiiHiiniiiHHiiHniHiiHMiiiiiiiiiMiiwiiiiiiiiiiiMiiHiiiniiiiiminiiiiiMHiHiinuiiiiiiiiiMHiiMiuiuniHiiHiiiinHi^^ 
 
 to admit that it was cold, and next morning we saw all the roofs in 
 Venice white with frost. 
 
 From the Hotel Danieli, immediately breakfast was over, we 
 hurried to the Piazzi of St. Mark. 
 
 During the previous summer, in our old home, we had read 
 Ruskin's "Stones of Venice." From our notes we knew where to 
 look for the most delicate traceries and most elaborately sculptured 
 columns in the Ducal Palace. Those exquisite columns with fruit 
 and flowers, and angels and birds and childrens' heads peeping out 
 from beneath the leaves and tendrils; and the arches and clover-leaf 
 openings against the blue of the sky, how beautiful it was! 
 
 From Ruskin too we knew where to find the richest inter- 
 mingling of color in the facade of St. Mark's Cathedral made by 
 those exquisite mosaics on their background of gold. That splendid, 
 brilliant facade with glittering domes and minarets, columns of 
 porphyry and verd-antique, and over the door the four famous 
 horses of gilded bronze. Those spirited, wonderful horses that had 
 graced the triumphal arch of Nero! that had been carried by Con- 
 stantine to Constantinople where for six centuries they adorned the 
 Arch of that great Emperor ! that for another six centuries had digni- 
 fied and beautified the facade of St. Mark's Cathedral in Venice ! that 
 had been captured by Napoleon and taken to gleam and glitter on the 
 Arc de Triumph in Paris! and for two years of the World War — ^to 
 protect them from air bombs of Austrian vandals — had lain in Rome 
 buried deep in the caves of the Castle of St. Angelo. 
 
 The Piazzi of St. Mark! What a fascinating place it was! The 
 beautiful Campanile crowned by an Angel of gold; the two granite 
 colmnns, one holding aloft the patron Saint of Venice, the other the 
 winged lion of St. Mark; the clock tower and the two bronze giants 
 that struck the hour; the pigeons, the plump, sociable pigeons; and 
 the arcades before the marble structures that faced the square, where 
 shop windows displayed such beautiful things of Venetian manu- 
 facture. 
 
 We were looking at the shop windows when the bronze figures 
 struck the hour of three. We had completely forgotten our lunch. 
 We went to Florian's, drank coff*ee and ate cake. We were tired, 
 cold and hungry. The short winter day was practically over and we 
 returned to the hotel. We found in the long saloon a half dozen 
 braziers of live coals, over which we were glad to warm our hands. 
 Through the night there was a light fall of snow and next morning, 
 not only roofs, but the ground was white. 
 
 Page Sixty-seven 
 
■«NiHmiiuiiminimiHiiiHiuHiiiiMiiniMiitiiuiHiHiiiiiiiHiiiuiHMunimimmimmimiiinnuinniiNiin»mimiiHiiiiH»HHmiitintMimmtiimimHiiHnii»nH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MA NY 
 
 «iMiuwiiiiHiiniiiiuuiiiiiiiHMiiiiu(HiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiMiiimiiuniimiiitminiMimiitiiiiiiiuiiiiiiMiiiiimiiMimiiHHiiiiitiMiiHtitiiiiiuiiiMiuiiiiiiuintnimniii^ 
 
 That day we saw the magnificent interior of St. Mark's Cath- 
 edral. The "famous golden altar piece with its blaze of gems and 
 gold," the mosaics, the sculptured marbles, and all the marvelous 
 richness and opulence that have won for it the name — "The Church 
 of Gold." Then to the courtyard of the Ducal Palace with the 
 beautiful, chiselled bronze well curbs and mosaic pavement, — the 
 splendid marble stair case and the colossal statues of Mars and 
 Neptune, — then through room after room glowing with color from 
 the wealth of exquisite frescoes and paintings — walls and ceilings 
 (Covered with the work of that famous group of Venetian painters 
 and set artistically in frames of gold. Such lovely forms and faces 
 and such beauty of color! 
 
 From the Palace, across the Bridge of Sighs, to the prison, where 
 we groped down the steps to the dark, stifling cells. Howells has 
 called the Bridge of Sighs a "pathetic swindle" and we were glad to 
 let it go at that, and not recall the horrible things we had read of 
 prisoners in those dreadful cells. 
 
 We went to the Academy of Art and saw some fine pictures, 
 and to several churches that had famous pictures, but the churches 
 were so bitterly cold that one glance at a picture no matter how 
 jPamous or how beautiful sufficed for me. 
 
 In going about we became greatly interested in the people we 
 jsaw in the streets. The women and girls of all sizes and ages were 
 a pinched, forlorn looking lot. All dressed alike in black skirts, and 
 grey woolen shawls folded in three corners and worn over the head 
 and shoulders, only the face being exposed. Poor things! It was 
 the only way they had of protecting themselves from the winter cold. 
 We would see groups of them gathered at a well for water, or 
 crowded in a little shop, and several times in sunny door steps we 
 came upon two or three old women sitting side by side with one 
 scaldino of burning charcoal between them ; one holding it on her lap 
 with her hands clasped over it for a time, and then passing it to her 
 companion. Comparing the faces we saw, with the lovely ones that 
 had looked at us from frames of gold in the Doge's Palace that 
 morning, we concluded that Titian and Tintoretto and Veronese got 
 the exquisite types they put upon their canvasses altogether from the 
 Particians. 
 
 Early on the third, and last morning of our stay, we were off in 
 a gondola gliding along the Grand Canal. We had as yet but a 
 yague idea of those two lines of palaces that adorned the graceful 
 winding of that wide water-way. Marble palaces rising from the 
 
 Page Sixty-eight 
 
timiiiiiiiinimiiiiiiHiiwniimiiiiiinuiiimniiimiNiinmiiiinniiiiNiunninimniiuinnttNiuiiiiiHMmimiimnMiimMiiiiiiumuiiNniniuiiunniHn^^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 •wiiiiiiHiiiiiiiHiiiHuiHiiHiiiiimiHHiiiiHuniiMiHiiniiiiiininiuiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiHiiiuiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiumiimiiuiniiiHiiuiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiHiniiin^ 
 
 water with broad flights of marble steps, and tall Venetian posts, that' 
 in times long past bore the colors of the family, and to which their 
 gondolas were moored. Even the plainest of the palaces had a 
 dignified air, while many, adorned with statuary, columns, balconies 
 and open stone work were indescribably beautiful. 
 
 We slipped softly under the white marble arch of the Rialto 
 bridge, and picked out the palaces in which Byron, Rogers, the 
 Brownings, Wagner, George Eliot and others had lived and worked. 
 We talked of the patricians, "the intelligent magnificent lords" who 
 had spent their money so lavishly, and whose names were inscribed 
 in the Book of Gold ; and of the beautiful women in sumptuous attire, 
 whose faces had been immortalized by the artist's cunning hands ! 
 
 We went to Florence, rested for the night, then on to Rome and 
 the Hotel de I'Europe. 
 
 The next morning, in a drizzling rain, we got a number of 
 addresses from Cook's agency and went in search of apartments. In 
 response to our first application, the door at which we knocked was 
 opened by an untidy Italian woman — around her and clinging to her 
 skirts, a large brood of untidy children. A glance told us the place 
 was impossible and we turned away. 
 
 Then up five flights of stairs where you pulled a red cord, that 
 tinkled a little bell. A slide was drawn from a small opening in the 
 door. We were surveyed and the door opened by a tidy, pleasant- 
 faced, elderly English woman, with whom we soon arranged terms. 
 To our delight Mrs. B. had the cockneyest of cockney dialects. In 
 the use of the letter "H" she was recklessly extravagant, but during 
 the month we were with her, she never once put it where it belonged. 
 
 Mrs. B. had the sixth piano of an old palace and our two good 
 sized rooms were pleasant. Our front windows faced the South 
 and would get the sun if ever it shone again. The neighborhood 
 was good and only three short blocks from the Corso, where fashion- 
 able driving, promenading and fine shop windows would always 
 give us something to see and enjoy. 
 
 In the afternoon, with our light luggage, we went from the hotel 
 to our newly acquired apartments and had our trunks sent there 
 from the railroad station. 
 
 The hall porter of the hotel where we had spent the night advised 
 us to go to the Sistine Chapel for the services held there on Christmas 
 eve. ' 
 
 We had heard the cannon boom from the Castle of St. Angelo 
 
 Page Sixty-nine 
 
«iminmiuniitiuiniiiitirHinumniiiititiiiiiiniininiiuiuMnHiiniiniminHiiiumiiimiinuiiiiMiiinumniinitinriiniiiiiiiNniiiiiiiuiHiiiiiinuiiuiiiiiniiiiiiiiinniiiiiiiiuniiiHni^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 'niiimuimiiuuiitiHiiMniimuiimiiiiiiuiiiMiuuiiiiiHHiuuuMiiniuMiimiiiiNiimiiiimmiiniiiiiitiiimiiiHiniiiiiimimitiitiiiiiiiiniiiiiiniiiiiiiiMinn^ 
 
 # 
 
 to give notice that the Holy Season had begun and soon after we took 
 a cab and went to the Vatican. We waited patiently with a great 
 crowd until the doors were opened. Inside, we soon came to a barrier 
 beyond which we were not permitted to go. This was disconcerting 
 and disappointing. You made inquiry of some gentleman and were 
 told that they were refused admittance beyond the barrier because 
 they were not in evening dress; that the formality of evening dress 
 for gentlemen, and black for ladies, with black lace over the head 
 must be observed. 
 
 As we were turning away a cardinal appeared, his long scarlet 
 train carried by two Priests in purple — then another, and another, 
 until a long procession of gorgeous Cardinals and Priests passed 
 beyond the barrier and in the distance we saw them take their seats 
 upon a raised platform. 
 
 We came away from the Sistine Chapel and went up the broad 
 flight of marble steps that leads to St. Peters, put aside a heavy 
 leather curtain, and stood within. We did not speak or walk about. 
 The light was dim, there were but few people there, and never again 
 were we so impressed by the vastness of that great church. 
 
 Through many months in San Francisco we had thought, and 
 planned, and talked of the places that we were to see in Europe ; we 
 had always hoped and expected that at Christmas time we should be 
 in Rome. Now Christmas Day had come, and tve were in Rome. 
 Settled for a month in a little nest, all our own, with guide books and 
 maps, and our necessary belongings about us, and two happier, more 
 contented mortals could nowhere have been found. 
 
 Well was it for us that we had sunshine within ourselves for 
 Nature was giving us but little. We were awakened on Christmas 
 morning by a storm of thunder, lightning, pelting rain and hail- 
 stones against the window panes. We had buffeted cold and damp 
 since the days of our stay in London. To my shivering complaints 
 you would cheerfully say, "Never mind, dear, we shall soon be in 
 sunny Italy." Sunny Italy indeed! with snow in Venice and hail 
 in Rome! 
 
 The winter happened to be one of unusual severity. Some time 
 during the month of January — the exact date my pencil failed to 
 record — trains between Rome and Florence were stalled in snow for 
 twelve hours ; and through the narrow streets of Rome the tramontana 
 often blew its icy blasts from snow covered mountains. 
 
 After breakfast we drove to St. Peters for the Christmas Mass. 
 It was a beautiful ceremonial, with fine music. The Mass over, we 
 
 Page Seventy 
 
iiiHMMiMniiiitiiirMiMiiiHiiiiiiMHiminMiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiinniiMiiiMHiiiiuiiHimiiiiHiiiiiiiniHiiiitnitiiiiiitiiiiuiitiiiiiiunniniiiiiHiiiiniiiHniiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiu^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 dHitiiniiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiMunuiiiHinHiiniiiiuMiiiiniiiiiniHiiiiHiiniiiimiiimiiiiiiiiiHiutiiiiiiimniiiimiiiiiiitimiimiiitiiiurnriiniiimuiiHiiHiinin 
 
 wandered from one splendid chapel to another; everywhere marble 
 and bronze and gilding and magnificent monuments. We stood be- 
 neath the great dome full of wonder at the beauty and grandeur 
 of it. We looked at the bronze statue of St. Peter and the many 
 who reverently kissed the great toe of an extended foot. That poor 
 toe, it will never be kissed away, but must grow stubbier and stub- 
 bier year by year from the rubbing people give it before they kiss it. 
 
 When we were thoroughly tired we left the church and from the 
 steps hailed a cab, and oh, the luxury of those Roman cabs! so cheap 
 and so comfortable, that would carry us a mile or two for a sum no 
 larger than what we paid to ride a few blocks in a street car in San 
 Francisco, and the small gratuity with which the driver was content 
 added but little to the cost of the ride. 
 
 We had read and been told of the extortion practised by all 
 European hotel keepers in the matter of candles, and that two or 
 three "bougies" appeared each day in the items of the bill rendered. 
 They were fine large bougies, and gave a good light, as it was proper 
 they should, since they were the chief means of lighting the rooms, 
 and cost twenty cents each. The extortion was, that although you 
 may have only burned an inch or two of your tall bougies one night, 
 the next night you found two fresh ones, that you must either light, 
 or go to bed in the dark; so you grumbled at the swindle and lighted 
 the bougies, which when going away it was the habit of tourists to 
 carry with them. Several times you had seen me slyly transferring 
 bougies from my hand bag to the large grip that was carried with 
 us in the cars, and you had remonstrated and told me not to do it, 
 but I continued to carry away the bougies, only being more careful 
 that you should not catch me in the act, and not having the remotest 
 idea of how, or when, they could be used; but when I awoke on 
 Christmas morning the first thing that flashed through my mind 
 were the bougies, and the use to which they could be put. After 
 breakfast I told Mrs. B. about them and that I wanted a grand 
 illumination for our Christmas dinner. She, good soul, entered 
 into the spirit of it at once and through the day pressed into service 
 everything that could be made to hold a candle. While you were 
 in the bedroom looking for something in your trunk, we carried 
 the candles and lighted them in the sitting room, — a row on the 
 mantle, — a row on a shelf under a mirror, and the rest scattered 
 about singly or in groups. On the table set for our dinner were the 
 flowers you had brought me, and a handsome brass lamp (in which 
 olive oil was burning) gave a soft, clear light. Holly wreaths with 
 
 Page Seventy-one 
 
iltwinuiHuiiiimMmiHiimiuiiiiiiiinitiiiniiiuiniitHiiuiiHiiHiMHiiiiuiniiiiNiiuiiiinuiiMiiMnHiinimiiiHininiiiMiMiiuiiiUMnuiuiiiitiiiiiitiiiuniHiuiiuiiu 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 »iuin<iHHUiiiimMiiiiwiiiiiHiiHiiuiiiiiuiii»HuiHiiHuiuMiiiiiiiiiMHiniiiiniiiiiiiiiiiHniiiiiiiuiiuiiiiiiiiiiHiiitiimimiiMinnniiiiiiiniHiHnitniiniiiiiuiiiu 
 
 shining red berries hung in the windows and a cheerful fire glowed in 
 the grate. When you came into the room and saw the grand illum- 
 ination, your eyes sparkled with pleasure. 
 
 "Well! how do you like it?" I asked. 
 
 With a ringing laugh you answered, "How do I like it? Why, 
 my dear, it is fine, and worth all the trouble you have taken." 
 
 Then Mrs. B. served the dinner, and an excellent dinner it was! 
 When we got down to the plum pudding you declared you had never 
 eaten of one so good and that had so many plums in it! After the 
 dinner was cleared away we sat before our cheerful fire "over the 
 walnuts and the wine," happy, oh, so blissfully happy, with the glad- 
 ness of children in our hearts! 
 
 And so ended our Christmas Day in Rome ! 
 
 Our dinners came from a rotisserie and were nicely served by 
 Mrs. B. They were brought in metal pans fitting closely into each 
 other, and beneath was a lighted lamp. Soup, fish, an entree, poultry 
 or birds of some kind, and vegetables. Over the pan, that was in com- 
 partments and held the vegetables, was a cover that cut off the heat, 
 and left the salad that came next, crisp and cool. Then a tart or 
 pudding or ice cream and cake. To these you supplemented rolls 
 and butter; cheese and olives; chianti wine in pretty flasks, nuts 
 and raisins and after dinner coffee. 
 
 Awaiting you at Cook's was a large package of your favorite 
 Souchong tea ordered from London, and with eggs, jam, marmalade, 
 a little flask of cream and plenty of good rolls and sweet butter, our 
 breakfasts were as perfect as our dinners. Our lunches we got 
 wherever it was most convenient, Mrs. B. preparing them when we 
 remained at home. 
 
 There had been a stipulated price agreed upon that was to cover 
 everything, including Mrs. B's services, and when at the end of our 
 first week she came in with a bill, she said there were a few things she 
 had forgotten and hoped you would not object to paying the small 
 additional charge. You looked at the bill and said, "Not at all," and 
 I saw that instead of being vexed, you were very much amused. 
 After Mrs. B. left the room you handed me the bill, at the end of 
 which I read: 
 
 Brick dust for scouring carving knife and fork, 1 penny. 
 Soap for washing dish towels, 2 pence. 
 Polish for silver ware, 2 pence. 
 
 Dear old soul! She put those items on the bill every week and 
 
 Pd^e Seventy-two 
 
«mmiiiiniiiniiiiiiHiiiiiniiiimitwiiiinHiuimimmmHminiiitiitmimmtimimmnniuiiiiiinnnmflnnimHumntimu:iiiiuimiiiutHniiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 miiiiiiiHiiniiiHiiiiiuiniiMiuiuiiiiininiHiiiiiiMiuiiHuiiiiuiiiiiiHunumiitiiuminiHHmiiiMMUiiinnmuiiiiiiiniiuMHiuHtuiiiiiiniiiiiniiiHiHUiiiiiiuiiiiHiiiiiuii^ 
 
 always apologized for not having remembered them at the proper 
 time. 
 
 The rain was persistent. We went to see galleries of pictures 
 but the light was too poor to enjoy them. 
 
 On the morning of the 28th, Mrs. B. came tapping at our door 
 very early to say that if we would look from a window in the front 
 room, we would see water in the Corso. The embankment had not 
 yet been built and the "y^Uow Tiber" frequently left its bed, but 
 seldom went so far afield as on this occasion. You dressed hurriedly 
 and went out. You found eight feet of water in the Corso and boats 
 going up and down, carrying food to some houses, and rescuing 
 people from others. That night when we closed our window blinds 
 the water had reached within twenty feet of our house and we, too, 
 expected to be marooned, but the following morning the rain had 
 ceased and the water had receded to the Corso. There was much 
 suffering. The area of flooded territory was large and many blocks 
 of houses submerged. Benefits were given, subscription lists opened 
 and day after day a couple of nuns, priests, or members of a com- 
 mittee climbed the stairs to our rooms for aid. They never went away 
 empty-handed, but we did wish they would not always come at our 
 dinner hour. 
 
 A friend among the Catholic Clergy of San Francisco had 
 given you a letter of introduction to Cardinal Antonelli, and one day 
 near the end of the year we went to the Vatican to present it. A 
 member of the Swiss Guard took the letter and your visiting card to 
 the Cardinal and we were soon admitted. Cardinal Antonelli re- 
 ceived us kindly. There were many books and works of art in the 
 large room where he sat, but oh, so miserably cold! During our stay 
 he had his hands constantly stretched over a brazier of burning char- 
 coal. I noticed that the brazier was one of great beauty, also that 
 the thin hand he extended was icy cold. The Cardinal spoke in 
 French. The weather and inundation were discussed and questions 
 about San Francisco and your mutual friend asked and answered. 
 Then the Cardinal asked if he could do anything for you. You 
 answered, "My wife wants very much to see the Pope." I hurried 
 to add, "And to be present at a Mass where the Pope officiates." 
 
 The Cardinal looked at me intently with his piercing eyes. "Do 
 you wish it very much?" he asked. 
 
 "Very much indeed. Cardinal Antonelli," I answered. 
 
 The Cardinal asked for your address, which he wrote upon your 
 visiting card, then giving you admission cards for a week to the gal- 
 
 Page Seventy-three 
 
HiiiitiiniinriMiiiiiiMMmniiiMiiiiiiiiiniiiiniiHiMMiiiiiiiiiinitiiiimiiintmiiiiHmHiiniiimiiiniuiiHiHHiiiiiiiinimuiiiiiniiiiMMiimiimiiiniiiiniimiMtiiuniinnin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 'HiiinMiniiinNininiMiimiiiiiMiiuiiiiuiMiinuiiHiHiiiiiiiiiininitiiiiiMiiuiuiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiniiuitiHiiimniiiniiMiiMuiiiiiMuuinnniiimiiiinniMiiiiiiiiiiu^ 
 
 leries and library of the Vatican, he asked if we would like to see the 
 Vatican gardens. Hearing that we would, he raised his hand and an 
 attendant came forward, to whom he gave instructions in Italian. 
 The Cardinal rose and the interview was at an end. He gave us 
 each in turn that cold, thin hand and hoped we would enjoy our stay 
 in Rome. 
 
 We followed the attendant to another functionary with whom 
 we went up a flight of steps and through a door opening on a ter- 
 race that commanded an extensive view. The gardens were formal 
 but very charming. Sheltered from the wind, flowers were blooming 
 in profusion. There were many fountains and statues, and long ave- 
 nues of beautiful trees. 
 
 As we drove away from the Vatican we talked of the Cardinal. 
 "Howells says that 'Cardinal Antonelli has the wickedest face in the 
 world.' It may be wily, but I would not call it wicked," you re- 
 marked. 
 
 "But his eyes. Dear Heart," said I, "did you ever see such 
 eyes? They pierce one through and through." 
 
 We speculated whether anything would come of the interview. 
 The Cardinal had been kind and polite but we both noticed that he 
 had promised nothing. 
 
 We had been invited by Mr. and Mrs. T. Buchanan Read to 
 attend a reception they were giving that evening to Gen. Sheridan. 
 It was a delightful occasion! Mr. Read read his spirited poem, 
 "Sheridan's Ride," unveiled his equally spirited picture of Gen. 
 Sheridan on horseback, and his admirable bust of Sheridan, all work 
 of a high order. 
 
 The American artists settled in Rome were there, Story, Rogers, 
 Ives, Miss Hosmer and others. All the American colony were there. 
 The Stars and Stripes were draped gracefully about the rooms, 
 patriotic airs were sung and everybody fraternized with every other 
 body. It was like a company of old friends rather than the gather- 
 ing of many birds of passage from widely separated haunts. As host 
 and hostess Mr. and Mrs. Read were charming, putting every one at 
 their ease, and Gen. Sheridan was the personification of cordial 
 geniality. He was so glad to meet someone from San Francisco — 
 he asked question after question about the City, and spoke with great 
 enthusiasm of the State. In our final little chat with the General as 
 we said good-by, his last words were: "I shall never be entirely 
 happy and contented until I see California again." 
 
 On the way home, you remarked, "This has been a red-letter day 
 
 Page Seventy-four 
 
lUHiiiiHHiiiiiiiniuHHHiiHiiiuuiiiciMuiiimMMiniiiiiiiiHiiiiiiitmmNmimNmimiiiiiNmiiiiimiiHimuumiNiiiiiuiiiniiiiuiHimHnuiiiiiiiHmtiuiiuniiiuHn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 itiiniiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiimiiniiiiiiniiiHHnunitnniniiiiiiniinHinnniitiiiiimiiinmiiiiumiiiiMiiiniiiiiiMHmiiHiiHuimunnniiiiinniiniiiiimimuuninuiiiiiiiii 
 
 for celebrities — Cardinal Antonelli in the morning and General 
 Sheridan in the evening." 
 
 Rome was annexed to the Kingdom of Italy only three months 
 before our visit to the "Eternal City" and Victor Emmanuel still 
 lingered at Florence, out of deference to the Pope's feelings, it was 
 said; and although it had been decided that Rome should be the 
 capital of Italy it was not until the following July that the King took 
 up his residence at the Quirinal Palace and made it so. 
 
 For several days the newspapers had been full of notices that 
 the King would soon visit Rome. December 31 they announced that 
 he would arrive at two o'clock that day. 
 
 We took a cab in the Corso, turned off in a side street and waited 
 for the procession to pass. King Victor Emmanuel had an escort of 
 some twenty gentlemen. He was splendidly mounted, looked hand- 
 some and kingly and received an ovation that must have touched his 
 heart. Hats were thrown in the air, flags and handkerchiefs waved, 
 and the wildest enthusiasm prevailed. Cheers, and Viva il Re, Viva 
 il Re, and Viva I'ltalia were heard on every side. We followed the 
 procession to the Quirinal Palace within which the King had disap- 
 peared. He came out upon a balcony and again the crowd went wild 
 with vivas. Even Nature had smiled a welcome on the King; but 
 while we loitered in the Palace square admiring the fine bronze horses 
 and their tamers, the sun suddenly disappeared and down came the 
 rain. 
 
 Although the New Year did not bring warmer air, it brought 
 clearer skies and busy weeks for us. Our first expedition was to the 
 Capitoline Hill. Up the broad staircase, with lions at the bottom, 
 and the colossal horse taming group at the top, to the square of the 
 Capitol, and the noble bronze statue of Marcus Aurelius ; then down 
 to the forum; on and on; our way lined on both sides with broken 
 shafts and capitals, remnants of columns, lines of broken wall and 
 arches, to that "ruin of ruins" the Coliseum. We walked about in 
 the vast area, explored the galleries beneath, and climbed the steep 
 flights of steps to the uppermost story from where we viewed the 
 City and distant snow-crowned mountains. 
 
 By the time we reached Italy we were familiar with great 
 pictures by the old Masters, but the antique sculpture of the Vatican 
 and Capitol Museum was a revelation to us in the realm of art! 
 
 Works of the imagination, ideal in their beauty or strikingly 
 powerful, and the wonderful portrait statues and busts of the old 
 Greeks and Romans. How well they knew the secrets of the chisel. 
 
 Page Seventy-five 
 
•ininiiMRiniiniiMuninmiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiinniiiHtmuiiiMiiinuiiinniHHiimnmiiiimnmniiiiiiiiniiHiHuiiiiimiNnnHiiiiiMiiiinmiiiiiiMiiiimiiHnHi^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 (UiiiuiiiiMniuinuuuiiuiiuiiMiiuiiiiMiiiiMiniMniiiiiiiiimMiiiiiitinmiiiiiiiiniinHniiHrniiiitiuiiiiiniHMiiiiuiiMiiiiHiiHiiitniiniinHiiiiMiiiiiiHMnHiiiiiniHii^ 
 
 those splendid old sculptors! who put into those forms of stone such 
 beauty, animation, dignity and expression! and what drapery! folds 
 of marble looking soft and pliable as a tissue of silk! 
 
 We saw the pictures of Raphael in the Vatican, and the work of 
 Michael Angelo on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. We went to the 
 Lateran Museum to see the Statue of Sophocles ; to the Palace of the 
 Conservatori to look at the bronze Capitohne Wolf with Romulus 
 and Remus; to San Pietro in Vincoli to see Michael Angelo's statue 
 of Moses. 
 
 We studied the Triumphal Arches, and the forums of the differ- 
 ent Emperors. We went to the Ghetto "that May-fair of rags, and 
 high carnival of old clothes," — to the top of Monte Testaccio for the 
 view, and drank wine from the cellars beneath. We drove over the 
 bridges; went through the Castle of St. Angelo; looked at the 
 columns in the piazzas and at the Egyptian obelisks. We went to the 
 Capitoline church to see the "presepe," a life size representation of 
 the Nativity with the miraculous Bambino as the Holy Child. We 
 looked at the Tarpeian Rock, and took a short ramble in one of the 
 Catacombs. We went to the Protestant Cemetery. 
 
 We saw men and women going reverently up the Scala Santa 
 on their knees. We drove on the Appian way to see the ruined 
 tombs and the beautiful, unimpaired tomb of Cecilia Metella. We 
 looked at the line of arches of the great aqueducts stretching away on 
 the dreary Campagna, where buffaloes and gray oxen with wonder- 
 ful long horns were roaming, and peasants were making their mid- 
 day meal on onions and brown bread. We saw the terraces and tow- 
 ers and gates of the old Roman walls. We saw the baths and palaces 
 and theaters; only ruin strewn ground and crumbling walls of 
 masonry, but magnificent in their proportions. 
 
 The season was winter and the wind high and cold but the 
 fountains were always a delight. The clear, sparkling water so 
 abundant in volume. Water rushing from mossy grottoes; water 
 blown from the mouths of dolphins, and from the shells of Tritons; 
 water splashing and murmuring and shooting up from basins in 
 columns of spray. How beautiful they were, those glorious fountains 
 of Rome! 
 
 We loitered at the Spanish Stairs where models basked in the 
 sun and girls and women in picturesque Roman costume sold flowers ; 
 sometimes we climbed the stairs — no elevators then — to the church of 
 Trinta de Monti to hear the nuns sing at the Vesper hour. 
 
 An interesting feature of the street life of Rome during the 
 
 Page Seventy-six 
 
MHHNiiiiHimiiwHmimHiiiiittiimmniimiiitwnuniHimiMmiHmNumiHMHttHimimuitutimraimMiHiuMmnHiiiniuiHmHiimiminiiniuinmnimniimtmi^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 MiMinHniniHiuMiHuniiHiumiHHiimiiriiiitHiuiiuiHHiimiiitnimiiiHiiiiHimmnMmHnHiuiiiiiiiiuiiNiiuiHiHiiiniHiuiiiiiiimuiuiuiiiiiiiiiuiiiiit 
 
 Holy Season, and beginning of the New Year had been the peasants 
 that came from the country around. Poor creatures that hved in 
 the ruined tombs on the Appian Way ; and handsome men and women 
 from Trastevere. The men with black velvet jackets thrown over 
 one shoulder, and broad crimson sashes, — the women in black velvet 
 bodices laced with gold cord, scarlet aprons, and long ear-rings. Tall, 
 majestic women, with brilliant black eyes and their abundant jet 
 black hair covered with soft colored silk nets, held in place by large 
 silver pins. 
 
 Then there were the pifferari from the mountains who came to 
 Rome to play and sing before the shrines of the Madonna scattered 
 over the city. How picturesque they were ! Their high hats adorned 
 with a peacock's feather, bright colored jackets, skin sandals, leggings 
 laced to the knees and over all, a long, dark blue cloak. There were 
 always two, often father and son, and the music was very weird, — 
 bagpipe and pastoral pipe. In turn each would sing. The singing 
 was seldom good, but the two instruments played together made a 
 singularly touching kind of music. 
 
 Others of the pifferari wore loose sheep skin garments with the 
 wool left on, their tall hats trimmed with bright ribbons and long 
 streamers that fluttered in the wind. They too went playing from 
 shrine to shrine but their pipes were harsh and discordant. 
 
 Beggars came in swarms, and for two weeks were allowed to beg 
 unmolested ; then banished from Rome, Southward from whence they 
 came. Poor, wretched, maimed, crippled, mutilated human beings ! 
 
 One Saturday we went to see the lottery drawing that took place 
 on the large balcony of an old palace. The balcony was festooned 
 with flags; on it were a half dozen officials in clerical dress, and a 
 glass barrel. At noon there was the blast of a trumpet and a little 
 boy appeared dressed in white. The barrel was whirled, the boy 
 drew out a number and an official called it out in a loud voice. The 
 trumpet sounded, and the drawing went on. The square in front of 
 the palace was crowded with poor, anxious men and women holding 
 charms and repeating prayers over the little slips of paper on which 
 their numbers were. We saw no one draw a winning number. 
 
 Going out one morning we noticed that the mane and tail of 
 every horse was braided, and decked profusely with bright colored 
 ribbons. You questioned a Roman gentleman who explained that it 
 was the festival of Saint Antonio, the patron saint of all four-footed 
 iSinimals, and that every horse in Rome would be driven to the 
 
 Page Seventy-seven 
 
wiiHiniiiimimumwimniinimimiiiiinininimiminiinninnmtmiiminiimnmmmiiniinnnnnRtiintmramimimiiminiimitmtniniiiinm 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iHiiiinHuiuiiniiiiHiiiniiiiMuitniiiiiiiiiiiniinmiitiiiiiniiiHiiiMnuinnmHnMimiiiiiinniiiiiiiiMtiituimMimiiiMiiuiiimiiiiHiiiiiiiiHiniiiiiiiMuimiiiMiiMiMi^ iiiiiniiiiHNa 
 
 Church for a sprinkling of Holy Water that it might go in safety- 
 through the coming year. 
 
 You hailed a cab and told the driver to take us to the Church 
 of Saint Antonio. He was a happy, talkative old cabby and very 
 proud to tell us that he owned all his equipage — and so shabby, so 
 very shabby it was! Frequently he would exclaim "Si, tutto mio, 
 tutto mio" and give his whip such a resounding crack that the old 
 horse would jump as though he had been struck. In answer to the 
 question, "No his horse had not yet been blessed — he had been waiting 
 to carry someone to the Church, and he was glad (turning to bow) 
 that the Signore and Signora would see the benedizione." 
 
 It was a long procession. Animals of all conditions carrying 
 people of all conditions. Donkeys with streamers of colored paper, 
 and handsome carriage horses with bows of ribbon. A priest stood at 
 the church door with a long pole, on the end of which was tied a bunch 
 of something, from which he shook a few drops of water on the head 
 of every animal as it passed. 
 
 Our month with Mrs. B. had been one of comfort and complete 
 satisfaction with two exceptions, both beyond good Mrs. B's control. 
 
 On returning from St. Peters on Christmas Eve, we had found 
 the hallways in total darkness. You spoke to Mrs. B. about it. She 
 said she was sorry, but the landlord refused to furnish any more 
 lamps — that several times during the three years she had been there 
 he had tried, but if the lamps were not all stolen the first night, they 
 were sure to disappear on the second or third — that the landlord had 
 tried lamps with chains attached and fastened to the woodwork, but 
 lamps and chains disappeared and then it had been completely given 
 up. 
 
 Mrs. B. then showed you what people used as a substitute for 
 lighted halls and stairways. It was a taper about a foot long, some- 
 what larger than a lead pencil, made of soft wax, and coiled to fit 
 neatly in a small covered box, and you at once purchased, for the 
 merest trifle, one Mrs. B. had on hand. There was no concierge and 
 the entrance door stood open day and night, and for a long time I 
 was in dread of some wicked Italian lurking in the dark corners with 
 a knife or dirk, and lying in wait for us. Occasionally we would meet 
 a lodger from one of the other pianos and if he was not carrying a 
 light my heart would jump to my throat, until we were greeted by a 
 pleasant "Buona Sera." Sometimes we passed a toiler going up, and 
 sometimes we w^ere passed, always with a salutation, and the little 
 tapers would give the momentary glimpse of a form, that would 
 
 Page Seventy-eight 
 
«HHiiiiiiniiiiiiitiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin iiinninHiniininuiiiiiiiiiiitiimiiiiiiiititniiMiniiiiiiiiiiiniiiinniimittniniiiiHiiMiniiiunMniiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiniiuiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinininimima 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 amiuiiiiiiiittiiiiiiimmiMiii in i iiiMiiiiiiini iiiiiinitiiiiiiiiiinniiiinmitiimiiiiiiiiiimniiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiimiimii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimuiiiuim 
 
 quickly be lost in the darkness. You could never quite laugh away 
 my fears, and although no disturbing incident occurred, I was always 
 glad when the door of our room closed between us and the blackness 
 of the halls. 
 
 The other complaint, was being watched and spied upon by 
 people opposite. The street was narrow and their windows on a level 
 with ours and at those windows, a mother and three daughters spent 
 all their time looking into our room, one among them often through 
 an opera glass. I was indignant and angry but got no sympathy 
 from you. You were not in Rome to notice trifles and if I did not 
 look across the street I would not know we were being watched. 
 
 From Mrs. B. I got, at least sympathy. She said the people 
 opposite belonged to the poor nobility; that they owned the palace in 
 which they lived and rented all the lower pianos, that they kept a 
 carriage and went out in style every pleasant day, adding, "I 'aye 
 'card that the poor nobility of Rome will 'ave a carriage, heven if they 
 dooent 'ave henough to heat." 
 
 We had been kept in all day by rain but about four o'clock the 
 sky cleared and we went for a walk. As we reached the street, there 
 sure enough, as Mrs. B. had said, a small, stylish carriage with coach- 
 man and footman in livery stood at the door opposite, and our neigh- 
 bors were starting for their drive. After that we often noticed them 
 on the Pincian Hill or crowded Corso at the fashionable hour. On 
 Sundays a thin, pale, meek looking man would be of the party and 
 one of the girls absent; and so ended my acquaintance with the poor 
 nobility of Rome. 
 
 Nothing in the narrow streets of Rome interested us more than 
 meeting a Cardinal in his splendid carriage with gorgeous coachman 
 and footman and three laqueys in scarlet livery standing behind; or 
 seeing the miraculous Bambino driven rapidly and in great state to 
 a house where some one was very ill. 
 
 On most pleasant afternoons we finished our sight seeing on the 
 Pincian Hill; then no matter how tired we were we followed the 
 universal custom of taking "a turn on the Corso" before going home. 
 The narrow roadway would be blocked with carriages, and the narrow 
 sidewalks jammed with people. The elite of Rome were there; and 
 we — two wayfarers from a distant land enjoying the brilliant, 
 crowded hour. 
 
 The newspapers had announced the arrival from Turin of Prince 
 Humbert and the Princess, and the afternoon before we left for 
 Naples we were taking a farewell stroll on the Corso, when we 
 
 Page Seventy-nine 
 
iniuHiniiMiiMiiiiiiiimiiinnimiinitiiiiiMiiiiuiiiiitniiiiiiritiiiiiimnmimmmiamimmmiHiniiiniiiiiiiminiHiinniiiiuMiininiiiintmiiiimiimtiiiiiiiimnni^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 MniiiHiiHuiimuiiwMiiimiHiiniiMiniitiMiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiriiHiiiiiinmiMniiiHuinniinmmiMtiiiiuiiiimttuiimiiitiiuiiiiiiniiinnuiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiH^ iiniuiuHim 
 
 noticed unusual excitement, and heard much cheering. Soon the hat 
 of every man near us was taken off, and in an approaching carriage 
 we saw Prince Hiunbert, and the Princess Margherita, the Pearl of 
 Savoy, a lovely, charming woman. 
 
 January 24, 1871, we went to Naples — to the Pension Anglo- 
 Americaine on the Villa Reale, a long narrow park on the sea shore, 
 and a favorite promenade. 
 
 In Naples we seemed almost to have found another World! The 
 sky was blue and unclouded and the air soft and warm. The Judas 
 trees were masses of purple bloom, almond trees in blossom, flowers 
 in the gardens, and yellow fruit hung on the thrifty orange and lemon 
 trees. On the streets we were offered large bunches of camelias, pink, 
 red or white for half a franc. 
 
 The shop windows were captivating. Beads and ornaments of 
 lovely pink coral, amber and tortoise shell in artistic articles, and 
 gloves so cheap that I would have gone into the first shop and spent 
 all my allowance but for your restraining voice. But the beggars 
 and street venders, what a nuisance they were! Often to free our- 
 selves from them we would get into one of the small, cheap, rickety 
 cabs that were always hovering about, drawn by ponies that had no bit 
 in their mouths; only a metal ring on the nose to which the reins 
 were attached. The shabby driver would ask "Dove?" where? and 
 you would answer, "Avunque" anywhere. Then I would compliment 
 you on your mastery of Italian and we would laugh. Ah me! Dear 
 Heart of mine, how easily and merrily we laughed in those happy, 
 happy days! 
 
 A loud cracking of the driver's whip and we were off. Every- 
 thing new and strange and interesting. Tall houses clinging to the 
 sides of hills and reached by steep flights of stairs; on narrow 
 streets block after block of houses six and seven stories high, with 
 rows of balconies over which housewives were leaning and buying 
 their supplies from street venders below. 
 
 And what a din! prices bawled out and bargaining, then 
 dangling from a long rope down went baskets and tin pails ^sdth the 
 money agreed upon and often when the basket or pail came back, 
 angry words and long, loud altercation, — and clothing fresh from the 
 tub was pulled by womens' vigorous arms across the street, to dry on 
 lines stretched between the windows or balconies. 
 
 In our rambles we often came upon a public letter writer at 
 work. Seated in a shady nook or under an umbrella in a sunny square 
 a man wearing a very high hat and many quills stuck above each ear 
 
 Page Eighty 
 
imniiiittiininiiiniUiiniiMniniiiitiniiiiniiiintNtiiirirtiinritiiiiniNiuiimniuiimiitiiiinniMniniiuHniiiMniniiiniiiMtiiiiiiinniiiiitfiiiiMiinininiuiuniiHiniHinniiiniii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 wiinnniiiriiiniiiiHiiuiiiiiiMuniMiriinniniiniHiMnMriiiriiniMiiniMiinniinMMiiiiiiiiintiiniiJiinnMiiiiinniiiiiiiiiiniiHHiMiniiiiiiuriiMiiiiiiiiinuniuiuniiiuniiim 
 
 and beside him, dictating, a man, woman or pretty young girl, — and 
 we saw small portable kitchens dragged along the streets selling soup, 
 fried fish and vegetables in portions as small as the fraction of one 
 cent, — and the afternoon milking of the herds of goats, driven from 
 house to house and through street after street. From the lower 
 floors, someone would come with bowl or pitcher, — from the upper 
 floors the people whose rooms fronted the street would let down a 
 bottle tied to a string, and when all had been served, the goatherd 
 would whistle, and he and one or two of the goats would disappear 
 within a house and climb the long flights of stairs, to serve the people 
 with milk who lived in the rear. 
 
 But the Santa Lucia quarter, that was the place above all others 
 to see Neapolitan life! In the fishing boats drawn up on the shore 
 men and women were mending nets, children and dogs rolled and 
 tumbled in the roadway, lazzaroni slept undisturbed in the sun, and all 
 the streets leading from the mole were alive with people. Every bit 
 of domestic work seemed to be done out of doors, — washing, cooking, 
 eating and mending all going on with talk and laughter, quarreling 
 and gesticulation. Girls were dressing one anothers hair, young men 
 standing by, and all engaged in lively talk, — mothers were combing 
 the heads of their oflPspring for purposes that caused us to give them 
 a wide berth. It was all well worth seeing, for once at least. 
 
 If we were on the streets early in the morning we would see 
 diminutive donkeys carrying to the City markets, panniers loaded 
 with flowers, fruit and vegetables, and walking beside them, a dark- 
 eyed, sun-burned girl. In the afternoons the girls rode the little 
 donkeys home, in groups that were very pretty to look upon. 
 
 We went to the Convent of San Martino at an elevation of 500 
 feet. We started in one of the rattling little cabs that always made 
 us wonder how they held together and when about half way up, the 
 half starved little horse gave out. The driver declared his "cavallo" 
 was "pigro" which we took to mean lazy, and rather than see the poor 
 beast lashed with the whip, and hear the driver's loud, angry abuse, 
 you paid the sum agreed upon, and we walked the rest of the way. 
 Up and up through thickly populated, narrow, dirty streets, one set 
 of steps above another until the Convent was reached,— then down 
 a long gallery at the end of which a room opening on a balcony. It 
 was managed in rather a spectacular way. A dimly-lighted room, — 
 a door opened by a pale, dark-eyed monk and that wonderful view 
 flashed upon the eye. 
 
 We had read many descriptions of that view, but no words could 
 
 Page Eighty-one 
 
«MnMiimmumuiwiimRiutH«umintmmm<uiiiminimnnflwiimimmm«immtttmiiniiimimimmmiimiiiiinHiniHUHiNinimiiimHiH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 WHMItHIHtHtUHHIWtmuHWHUIMWHmUHninUIHIMHUHUmtWtwmitluniMHNMMtMIUnilHUnHliniMlliniUIHIIHIimillllHIUIIHUnilHIIIIIWIItiriHimUl^ 
 
 describe its exquisite beauty! The matchless Bay of Naples! The 
 blue sea sparkling and dancing in the sunlight, its bosom dotted with 
 hundreds of small, white sails; the lovely islands, Mt. Vesuvius with 
 a column of smoke rolling in little rings from its summit, the city 
 spread out like a map, and immediately beneath, the Convent gardens 
 overhanging the cliff, with olive trees, trellises of vines and flowers 
 and long shady avenues through which brown garbed monks with 
 sandals on their stockingless feet were walking, book in hand, and 
 over it all the intense blue of the sky of Italy. 
 
 We drove through the Grotto of Posilippo and went to Virgil's 
 tomb. Standing there you spoke of the legend that St. Paul on his 
 way to Rome to appeal to Caesar, visited Virgil's tomb. 
 
 In the museum we saw the wonderful collection from the ruins 
 of Pompeii and Herculaneum. Anitque statues and busts in marble 
 and bronze, beautiful jewelry, silver plate, cut glass, vases, lamps 
 and pitchers, money, and medicine chests, bankers' vouchers on un- 
 rolled papyri, frescoes with pictures of everyday life, musical instru- 
 ments and slates and pencils of the poor little children whose school 
 days were cut so short. 
 
 At Pompeii we saw what was left of forum, theaters, temples and 
 baths — ^homes, and signs and inscriptions on walls. 
 
 One night we went to the San Carlos Theater, a large, old- 
 fashioned looking house with six rows of boxes. We heard "The 
 Jewess" well sung and after it saw the superb ballet of Esmerelda. 
 
 Going away we saw the "trovatore" — men and boys with lan- 
 terns, a weird looking lot, picking up cigar and cigarette stumps and 
 any article they could use. We always enjoyed the streets at night 
 and the strolling musicians with mandolins and guitars singing 
 Neapolitan songs or airs from Operas. 
 
 We often took the most respectable looking cab we could find 
 and joined the carriage folk in their afternoon drive through their 
 lovely park — the Chiaia — following the sea shore for miles, with 
 pretty villas on one side, and the sparkling blue water on the other; 
 and on Saturday afternoons we loitered many an hour on the Toledo, 
 a narrow street with quite a grade, only a mile in length and 
 the main artery of traffic, on which, for the most peculiar of 
 whims, the wealthy Neapolitans made it a practise — long since dis- 
 continued — of a carriage promenade for about two hours every 
 Saturday afternoon. It was very animated and very interesting. The 
 jam of carriages going over the short course, back and forth, again 
 and again, ladies meeting and remeeting, and exchanging lively talk. 
 
 Page Eighty-two 
 
wmHmHiiitiiimHiHtmimintiiiiMiMiHMmiiimiiitiiiHMiiiiMimiimiinmmHimiiinimiinmmtimmnmiiiinmmtmmiitimimiimmiitmnNmmmnnnHimmnmmM 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 itHHHmiHIItlltllUlimitHIIIIIIMIIIinilUIIIMiniMltlHIIHIIWMIIIIHtnilllllHIIIHIIHtmHmiHIIIIHIHMHIIIIIHIIIIimHHmHHHHnHIIUIHIHmillimimmilllNWIIHHIIHIHIIUIIII^ 
 
 In the churches of Naples nearly all the statues of the Virgins 
 were showily dressed, quite like fashionable ladies, in bright colored 
 silks with bows of ribbon, hair elaborately done and often wearing 
 costly ornaments, — a beautiful necklace and bracelets, and frequently 
 the infant they held would be clothed in an unusual way. 
 
 It was in Naples that we first fell in with the superstition of 
 "jettaturo," the evil eye that brought bad luck to whoever encountered 
 it, and the beggars would hold out one hand for alms, and with the 
 other behind them, secretly make the sign that would avert the conse- 
 quences of the evil eye that all foreigners were supposed to possess. 
 The wretched, superstitious beggars! the men, women and children; 
 the street gamins barefooted, barelegged, the upper parts of their 
 bodies clothed in rags tied and held in place by strings; all declaring 
 they were dying of hunger "morte di fame, morte di fame" but we 
 had heard that cry so often in Naples that it fell on calloused ears. 
 
 On our last afternoon we went to the Castle of St. Elmo 1500 
 feet above the sea for the view. We engaged a cab to go and return. 
 The driver was a handsome young fellow with a soft voice and a 
 charming smile and he was so kind to his horse, walking up the steep- 
 est places that he quite won our hearts. We stopped at the Palace 
 of Capodimonte to see the pictures and the beautiful specimens of 
 Capodimente porcelain from the Royal factory, then continued on 
 and up to St. Elmo. 
 
 As we left the cab the driver said neither he nor his horse had 
 had anything to eat since early morning and if the Signore would pay 
 the fare up he would be grateful — ^he was sorry to ask but he had no 
 money. Of course the Signore paid the fare and gave the delightful 
 youth a fee. At parting he told us not to hurry — that we would find 
 him waiting for us in front of the Castle. 
 
 From the battlements the view was glorious, sublime! We 
 might never see it again. We had a cab, and I begged to wait until 
 the sun went down, and what a sunset it was! sea and sky and all the 
 land bathed in softest and most exquisite shades of violet and amethyst. 
 When Vesuvius and all the high peaks began to purple and turn dark 
 we knew it was time to go. 
 
 We went but alas! we found no waiting cab. Our Adonis with 
 the soft voice and the lambent eyes had left us in the lurch. Feeling 
 disappointed and very much aggrieved we began the long, weary 
 homeward tramp. Flights of steep stairs and lanes between high 
 walls, down and down we went. When we reached the street level 
 and stepped out from a narrow lane hoping to see a cab, we saw 
 
 Page Eighty-thre'e 
 
iMhiniiiminiiiiiiimniiiniiiiHiiimiiiHiiniiHiininiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiNminmiimtnniiHnimniMiiiiiiiniiiMitiiiininiiiiitiiiiiiniimmHnmiinniHiiniiiiiiinHiniii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 wiiimiiiiminiMiiiiiiMiitiiiiuniiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiHininininiiiiiiiiinHiiiiiiiniiiiiitnMiiiMimiininiuiiniiiHHniMiiHririiniiininiMiniinniiiiHMniHiiniinniiiiinuui^ 
 
 three, all dashing furiously toward us. Those fiendish men! if we 
 tried to get into a cab the other two drove their horses upon us and 
 forced us back. We tried to walk, but they circled round us and 
 prevented that. The demons held us up for fully half an hour in 
 that lonely street. 
 
 Daylight was fast disappearing and seeing that you were be- 
 coming angry and excited, I suggested that you pay each of the 
 rascals the fare to our house, and so get away from them; but you 
 fairly shouted to me, "No never — not if I stay here all night" 
 
 Just then two workmen came along. You called to them and 
 pointed to the cabmen. They took in the situation at once. They 
 argued with the cabmen, frequently using the words governo civile, 
 and after a considerable parley succeeded in bringing them to terms. 
 Our friends selected the cab we were to use, took with thanks the 
 money you gave them, and with bows, and all the gratitude we knew 
 how to express we drove away. The two other cabs followed, often 
 halting our progress by driving across the street directly in front of 
 us, and the three cabmen keeping up a constant interchange of 
 abusive talk, and hissing at each other. 
 
 We went from Naples to the Island of Capri ; then in a rowboat 
 we slipped under the low entrance into the beautiful Blue Grotto. 
 The dim light enhanced the effect of the immense room where floor 
 and walls and lofty, arched ceiling were all of the most intense blue. 
 Boys dived for coins thrown into the water, their naked little bodies 
 taking on a sheen like silver. 
 
 From the Grotto back to the steamer, then on, to Sorrento and 
 the Hotel Tramontana standing in the midst of a large grove of 
 orange and lemon trees. The fruit looked beautiful but the oranges 
 were very sour. 
 
 We looked at the pretty inlaid woodwork in the shops then 
 walked along the cliffs overhanging the sea. It seemed like tempting 
 Fate to live in some of the pretty villas resting as they did on the 
 very verge of precipitous cliffs — such a one was the house in which 
 Tasso was born — but how charming it all was! Every villa had its 
 lovely view, its little grove of orange trees, its blooming garden, and 
 zig-zag path to a boathouse and bathing place below. Towards the 
 close of day we walked to the harbor where the fishing boats were 
 coming in and saw the red-capped, red-sashed fishermen putting their 
 catch in flat willow baskets which they carried away on their heads. 
 
 The next day in a comfortable carriage drawn by three horses 
 abreast, decked with plumes, colored trappings and jingling bells, we 
 
 Page Eighty-four 
 
WHiiiiuiiniiiiriiirniiHniiiiiiniiinitiiniiiiiuiiimiiiinniiiiiiiiiimiiiiniiHitiimnninimminiiiiiiininiiiiiiniiimnnimiiiiniiniiiiinmiiiiiiiiiiiiu 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 wiMiinMiiiiniiiiMiimiiiiiinnMMiiuniiMniniiiiiiiiMinuMiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiciiiiMiiuimimtiiiiuiiiininiitiiiiiniiniiiiiiuiiiininniniiiiiiiiiiinininiiiiiiinniiinii^ 
 
 made the delightful drive from Sorrento to Castellamare. We soon 
 learned why three horses were necessary. It was a high-lying, beauti- 
 ful country but furrowed by ravines that must be crossed. From the 
 table land above, our reckless driver would let his horses run like wild, 
 down almost to the level of the sea, where we would cross a bridge 
 and then with shouts and cracking of the whip up we would go to the 
 other side. Our road ran sometimes along cliffs overhanging the 
 sea, sometimes through vineyards or orchards of olive, orange and fig, 
 but we were never out of sight of the glorious views. We passed gay 
 villas with flower-covered pergolas and groups of umbrella pines, and 
 at the entrance to Castellamare we drove through a lovely ravine; 
 perpendicular walls of reddish rock overhung by long tresses of 
 flowering vines, and singing beside our road a tiny stream. What a 
 joyous, happy ride it was! 
 
 From Castellamare to Naples by train, and to the Hotel 
 Washington. Sitting after dinner in the hotel lobby you suggested a 
 walk. I was tired and hesitated. In that moment of indecision six 
 young people appeared dressed in picturesque costume, — three young 
 men and three young women. Two were the musicians; the instru- 
 ments a mandolin and guitar and soon the entertainment began. To 
 the soft music, two couples danced the tarantella gracefully and 
 beautifully. After the tarantella two girls danced alone and as they 
 passed around the room each threw a handkerchief upon the lap of 
 a gentleman, expecting when they returned to pick it up they would 
 find a piece of money tied, in at least one corner. They did not stop 
 dancing until they had exacted tribute from every gentleman present, 
 and as they were both very pretty they probably untied from the 
 corners of their handkerchiefs quite a sum of money. The next per- 
 formance was very amusing. While the girls were dancing, one of 
 the young men had dressed himself in the most grotesque manner, and 
 from the place (where according to the Darwinian theory was once 
 a caudle appendage) there hung a tail about a yard long made of 
 vari-colored tissue paper, braided with points standing out and at the 
 end the strips of paper hung loose, forming a tassel. The other 
 three members of the dancing troupe held lighted candles, and the 
 play was, to set fire to the tail. Soon as the music began the fun 
 began, and such contortions, such jumping and bounding and whirl- 
 ing around! That tail acted like a thing alive as it responded to every 
 motion of the man who wore it. For half an hour an audience con- 
 vulsed with laughter watched that ludicrous performance, and then 
 the man with his tail not even scorched, bounded away. 
 
 We drove to Baiai, once a fashionable watering place for the 
 
 Page Eighty-five 
 
■mmmmiMtiiiiiiMimnMimiittniiimimiiniiiiNiiiiHitiiniiHitimHiwiHHmNmmmmiiirmiiniimNnimiimiiiiniiiiiiniiiiiniHHimiumimuiiniiniminm 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 «HniuwiiHiiiiiiHiniiiiuiiHiiniin(iHnHinHMiniitninMiiiHinniimiiiiuniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniHHniMiinHMHHiiiuiiiiiiiiHiniiMtiiiiitiiiiHiiiMiiuiHiiiiiiiniiniHiiiiiniiiiHiiiiuinH 
 
 Roman aristocracy. On all sides ruins of theaters, villas and baths; 
 now only a country overrun by beggars, their scant clothing tied to 
 their bodies. They stood on the carriage step and clutched the harness 
 of the horse. To escape them we took refuge at an Inn where we 
 lunched "al fresco" on bread and cheese and oysters, with a bottle of 
 Lachryma Cristi wine made from grapes grown on the slope of Mt. 
 Vesuvius. We should have been perfectly happy if two elderly 
 women had not insisted on dancing the tarantella for us while we ate. 
 
 We went from Naples to Rome on the "accelerata." Distance 
 155 miles; time nine hours. We found many letters awaiting us at 
 Cooks but no word from Cardinal Antonelli. 
 
 One pleasant day we made the ascent of the dome of St. Peters. 
 As we stood in front of the great structure measuring with our eyes 
 the distance we had to climb, you asked if I expected to go into the 
 ball, over the dome. 
 
 "Do you mean," I asked, "that little ball that looks like a small 
 orange?" to which you replied, 
 
 "If you had read your guide book carefully you would know 
 that little ball is eight feet in diameter, and will hold over a dozen 
 people." 
 
 "Then if ever I reach it, I shall go inside it," said I. 
 
 We commenced the ascent on a broad staircase with low steps, 
 up which mules were carrying loads. Soon, the way narrowed and 
 became winding and steep, — after a time we reached a gallery within 
 the dome. We were now near the mosaic pictures that lined the 
 dome, and looked so lovely from below. Close by, the work was 
 coarse, the figures colossal and unattractive. Up we climbed by an 
 outside gallery until we came to the gilded ball, 430 feet from the 
 ground, attached to the dome by a slender stem, within which was 
 a steep iron ladder. 
 
 The view of the surrounding country was beautiful and ex- 
 tended, and from a small inner gallery we looked down upon the 
 floor of the church, where the people moving about had the appear- 
 ance of tiny insects. We went up the ladder and within the ball. 
 The place was oppressively hot and our curiosity soon satisfied. We 
 were about to leave when a head appeared above the ladder and the 
 opening leading to the ball was obstructed by the shoulders of a large 
 man. We waited for the way to be clear, but the man neither ad- 
 vanced nor retreated, and we soon realized that he was actually so 
 wedged in that he could do neither. It would have been laughable 
 but for his distress. His face became purple in his efforts to free 
 
 Page Eighty -six 
 
wmiiiiimiiMHiiHnMiiiiHiHiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiNniimHiMiiiiHiHiininiiinimnnMHnwmiimminiMiiHimimmiHninimmmmiinimiHHitiimHmwninii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiHWHiinutiiuuwiiininiiiiHiiiiiiMniiitiiiiMiiMiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiMHiiniiMiWHiHiiMHiiiiiiiiiimiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiMiininiiiiuuiiuiuMiiiiniiinim 
 
 himself. He was probably not there more than two or three minutes 
 but it seemed an hour before we saw that red face disappear down the 
 ladder and we had a chance to escape. 
 
 We were much interested in the colony of guards and workmen 
 who lived on the roof permanently. Each had his snug little home, 
 and the positions descended from father to son, generation after 
 generation. The high parapet quite shut them out from the World. 
 Men were at work at a forge and others in a carpenter shop, and 
 from a large basin a pretty fountain was playing. 
 
 When we reached the ground we went inside the Church. We 
 were looking at the splendid monuments of the Popes, when a Card- 
 inal appeared followed by priests and choiristers. At the High Altar 
 they knelt for a moment, then went on to a chapel, we and all others 
 in the vicinity following. It was the Vesper service. The soft tones 
 of the organ, the beautiful voices, the delicious smell of incense and 
 the charming intermingling of color, was soothing and restful after 
 our fatiguing work. 
 
 We went to the Villa Pamphili-Doria on the Janiculum hill and 
 so completed the Seven Hills of Rome. The Villa grounds were like 
 fairyland. Statuary and temples, cascades and fountains, groves and 
 avenues of splendid trees, wild flowers in the fields, birds singing and 
 lovely views in all directions; near the Villa was the Aqua Paola 
 fountain, a stream of water flowing between granite colimins with 
 the rush and roar of swift rivers, and below the fountain the church 
 and terrace from where we had the most famous of all views of Rome. 
 
 The ten day Carnival had commenced with drizzUng rain; after 
 that, revelry reigned in the Corso every afternoon and the glimpse of 
 a mask or decorated carriage filled me with excitement and curiosity. 
 Once venturing too near the battle line confetti was thrown at us and 
 some found its way to one of your eyes. Smarting with pain from 
 what you called "horse play" you said in a tone that made it an 
 ultimatum, "I do not propose to spend much time or much money on 
 the Carnival, but if you will promise not to drag me to the Corso 
 every afternoon, you may have your choice of a balcony for two 
 afternoons, or a carriage for the afternoon and evening of Shrove 
 Tuesday when the Carnival ends with the putting out of lighted 
 tapers." I chose the carriage but accused you of driving a hard 
 bargain. 
 
 One week after our return to Rome, upon going to Cooks for 
 our mail, we found a large envelope and within it a small card from 
 Cardinal Antonelli appointing February 1, 10:30 A. M., for an 
 
 Page Eighty-Miren 
 
iminimHMHuiiiniirnimiiiiiiiHiiiiiiintiiuiiiiiiiiMiiiniiiiNiiiiiiiiiniiraiHitnffliiinHHmniiHHiiiiiniminnniminmiHtnmHnniiumiHimiiim^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 ittiiiniiiiniiiHiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiitiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiniiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiHm 
 
 audience with the Pope, and a large card being a "permisso" to a 
 Mass in the Sistine Chapel, two days later at the same hour of the 
 morning. 
 
 The card admitting us to the Sistine Chapel was a work of art, 
 with crests and seals and Latin wording. Holding it in my hand and 
 looking at it admiringly, I said, 
 
 "Oh, how I should like to keep this card as a souvenir." 
 
 You replied, there would be no trouble about my keeping it, if 
 
 I really wanted to, and when I eagerly asked, "how?" you said, "by 
 
 staying away and not presenting it." 
 
 Then I accused you of lack of enthusiasm and you admitted that 
 you did not like, what you called "the fol-de-rol nonsense of the 
 dress coat." However, you fell gracefully into it on both occasions. 
 
 Several moments before the time appointed we reached the 
 Vatican, and presenting Cardinal Antonelli's card, were conducted by 
 one of the Swiss Guard through a succession of large splendid rooms. 
 When we reached a smaller room, where two ladies were already 
 waiting, our conductor left us. 
 
 A few moments later a door was thrown open disclosing several 
 members of the Swiss Guard, who presented arms, and the Pope 
 appeared, followed by two ecclesiastics. We were nearest the door 
 and the Pope came directly toward us. Dressed in white, with 
 snowy hair falling from under his cap, and wearing a long string of 
 large white beads. The only color about him, his dark luminous 
 eyes, a superb cross of amethyst suspended from his necklace of 
 beads, the Papal ring upon his finger, and the red shoes upon his 
 feet. A saintly looking man, with a charming smile, and a clear, 
 musical voice. He spoke in French, asked us from where we came, 
 and when told, said, 
 
 "Ah, yes I remember. San Fran-cis-co, San Fran-cis-co" dwell- 
 ing upon each syllabel, "a long, long way from Rome. What a 
 journey you have made." 
 
 He then asked how long we had been in Rome, and smiled when 
 we told him of our long visit and the pleasure Rome had given us, — 
 said, 
 
 "Then you will surely come again. I wish you a safe journey 
 back to San Fran-cis-co." 
 
 I held a number of rosaries in my hand which he touched lightly 
 and then raising his hand to give us his blessing, it seemed the most 
 natural thing to do, and I knelt to receive mine. The Pope then 
 
 Page Eighty-eight 
 
imimiimiiiuMiiiimiiiimtimnmninmmmimmMiiiiHinnNiininiiiiiinnnmmiimitHiimmininimiiiwimmminmttmninH^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 imHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiit "■niiintiiiiinitimminiiiiiMimiuiHiiMiiuiMHiHrHHiiHmimiHiuiniiiimiimimniininMmmiiiiiiniiwwiwimuiiiuiimiiiwnMMi 
 
 passed on to the two ladies, and we, through the door by which the 
 Pope had entered, between a double line of the Swiss Guard, and a 
 long corridor to the exit. 
 
 Two days later we went to the Sistine Chapel where the Pope 
 officiated at Mass. It was a beautiful and impressive spectacle! 
 Nobles in ruffs and cloaks of velvet, wearing gold chains of enor- 
 mous size, Cardinals brilliant with color. Bishops in magnificent 
 stoles embroidered with pearls and thread of gold. Priests in purple. 
 Canons, Acolytes and others in large numbers, and always a back- 
 ground of the Swiss Guard in their white plumed helmets and striped 
 doublets of red, yellow and black. 
 
 In about the middle of the long, splendid procession came the 
 Pope, all in white, upon his head a mitre of gold and precious stones, 
 walking under a white silk canopy carried by six dignitaries, whose 
 capes hanging from the shoulders towards the audience, gleamed and 
 glittered in the soft light of the Chapel. As the Mass progressed, it 
 was a veritable feast for the senses. The intermingling of lovely 
 harmonious colors, the numberless twinkling tapers, the delicious 
 incense from swinging censers, the glorious music, gloriously sung 
 by the Pope's choir, and now and then the Pope's own voice in 
 clear, resonant tones. 
 
 We wrote our thanks to Cardinal Antonelli in English and 
 hoped the translation would convey to him some idea of the pleasure 
 his kindness had given us. 
 
 At last Shrove Tuesday came, and in the afternoon when we left 
 the Hotel de I'Universe, our carriage well filled with small bunches of 
 flowers and bags of confetti, I was bubbling over with excitement. 
 As we neared the Corso we put on our wire masks and slowly made 
 our way along the crowded street, and what a striking sight it was! 
 From every balcony hung draperies of brilliant color. Flags and 
 streamers fluttered from windows and housetops, and on every 
 balcony and at every open window were ladies and girls in every 
 kind of quaint and picturesque dress. The street was packed, the 
 roadway with carriages, the sidewalks with maskers on foot. The 
 costumes were beautiful, grotesque or ludicrous. Many of the car- 
 riages were attractively decorated, the horses with showy trappings, 
 brightened by knots of ribbon. Some of the coachmen were very 
 amusing wearing long ringlets and flower-trimmed bonnets, others 
 with elaborate coifl'ures without either hat or bonnet. 
 
 Back and forth the length of the Corso went the fantastic crowd, 
 while flying through the air were flowers, bon-bons and confetti. 
 
 Page Eighty-nine 
 
iiiinmHnmiiiiiiHiniiMiiiriMtiiniiHiumiiiinitiniiHttHiiinimHmitiNHmitimiHMitiNiHiNHiiiMiniiHHimiHMHmMMmiiHiiiiimmiiminiiNmiiiminHmrai^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 •iHimtiiiiiiHiniiniiiiiiiiMiiMHniiiiiniHMiHMniniinnHiiuniiiiMHimimiiiHHiiiiiimuiiiiiiHiiMiiiiuNiiiiuiunimiiiiuiiHiiiiinuniiiiitiiMiiitiiiHiiHHiiuiinnutiiiuiiuHii 
 
 Everybody pelting and being pelted, by maskers on foot, by occu- 
 pants of carriages, and from the windows and balconies above. 
 
 At sunset a canon boomed, a trumpet sounded, and a mounted 
 dragoon appeared, ordering all carriages from the street; we left the 
 carriage and stood on the sidewalk with the thousands and thousands 
 that lined the Corso on both sides. Next, a troop of cavalry rode 
 slowly down the street; returning they rode somewhat quicker, and 
 the third time at full speed and following like a rushing wind came 
 six wild horses — ^riderless, without bit or bridle, their manes shining 
 with ornaments, and tied to their backs, tinkling bells, and little balls 
 with sharp points that pricked and goaded them as they dashed 
 furiously along, the cheers and shouts of the multitude adding to their 
 fright and terror. 
 
 The race over, back into the Corso streamed the carriages, and as 
 the daylight vanished twinkling tapers appeared, and the weirdly ani- 
 mated play of "Mocoletti" began, increasing in intensity as the dark- 
 ness fell. We had provided ourselves with tapers and standing up in 
 the carriage were soon in the thickest of the fight. The play consisted 
 in keeping your own taper alight, and putting out the light of others. 
 On every side were shouts of laughter and the mocking words "senza 
 mocolo, senza mocolo" — without light — and when once your light was 
 out, there was a struggle to keep you from relighting it. Sometimes 
 when "senza mocolo" applied to us both, we would make no attempt 
 to relight our tapers preferring to watch for awhile the fun on the 
 balconies above, and in the splendid palaces where the play of 
 "mocoletti" was being carried on with the same enthusiasm that pre- 
 vailed upon the street. 
 
 When the frolic and strife, the laughter and cries of "senza 
 mocolo, senza mocolo" were at their very height, the church bells rung 
 the Angelus and like a flash all was over — every taper extinguished 
 as if by magic and the Carnival was at an end. 
 
 We had pleasant visits with Story and Rogers in their studios; 
 at the Argentina Theater heard the "Secret Marriage" well sung, and 
 saw the pretty ballet of Ivanhoe ; saw the Coliseum by moonlight and 
 again by Bengal lights; picked wild flowers among the ruins, and 
 lilies, violets and anemones in the Borghese grounds. 
 
 And now the time had come when we must say farewell to Rome. 
 To the "Eternal City" that we had so much enjoyed. The Rome of 
 beauty and ruins and interest without end. The Rome of dirty, 
 narrow streets. The Rome of shocking indecencies committed by 
 Roman citizens faultlessly attired, who belonged without doubt to the 
 
 Page Ninety 
 
MiWHHHNnMnmiimmmnnHmimmiHmHiinHnnmiHtiimNmtmNHniiHHHmmmHmmmiHHmmiimimimiNtnNttnmiHiw 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 ItlHIUHmUIIIIUIIimllllHMIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIirillllMIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIWNWimwUimmimtWIUIIHHIIWIUUIUnilUIIHHIIIIIUUIHIIUUIUHIU 
 
 classes of rank and influence, every one of whom considered himself 
 a "gentiluomo" and by the Romans was so considered. To the Rome 
 of the pifferari, the beggars and the cheap cabs. To the Rome that 
 had held captive our imagination in the past, and that in the future 
 would always have a warm place in our hearts. We went to St. 
 Peters to look again upon "that radiant dome with mosaics of gold;" 
 upon the High Altar with the ever burning lamps, and the splendid 
 Monuments of the Popes. We saw again our favorite statues of 
 Marcus Aurelius and Augustus, our favorite pictures and fountains, 
 and on the last night we drank from the fountain of Trevi, and threw 
 small coins in its basin, hoping with all our hearts that the supersti- 
 tion would come true, and we return to drink again. 
 
 On the last day of February we went from Rome to Florence. 
 We talked of Pope Pius IX and Cardinal Antonelli's dark, disquiet- 
 ing eyes, and did not turn our faces to the North until the great 
 church of St. Peter had vanished from our sight, you quoting Haw- 
 thorne's words, "The grandest edifice ever built by man, painted 
 against God's loveliest sky." 
 
 We had three weeks of strenuous sightseeing. The weather 
 conditions were perfect, and all the lovely surrounding country abloom 
 with flowers and blossoming fruit trees; and we varied the time de- 
 lightfully, between churches, art galleries, museums, and the hills, — 
 where from summits we looked down upon the domes, spires, towers 
 and red roofs of the City; then wandered down their villa dotted 
 slopes, under the gray green foliage of olive trees, gathering lilies, 
 anemones, cyclamen and all the variety of brilliant wild flowers that 
 grew in great profusion, and made the Spring landscape "Fair as a 
 garden of the Lord." 
 
 The main facade of the Duomo was then only a mass of rough, 
 heavy, unsightly brick work and detracted much from the appearance 
 of the splendid group as it exists today, but the colossal proportions, 
 the great dome, the three finished sides encrusted with vari-colored 
 marbles, the mosaics, the lovely lunettes above the bronze doors, the 
 interior, well filled with sculpture, and delightful old stained glass 
 windows gave us enough to admire. 
 
 And the glorious Campanile! that shining brilliant tower of 
 exquisite workmanship, gleaming in the upper air against a back- 
 ground of clear blue sky! Adorned with sculpture, reliefs, bands of 
 mosaics, and graceful windows, while the marbles with which it was 
 built, the black and white, the blue and yellow, the red and green all 
 blended in an indescribable harmony of color and tone! 
 
 Page Ninety-ont 
 
iiiuiniMiiiiiiiiiMiMniiiMiiMiMiiiiuiiiiiniiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiinHUHiMniiiiuininiiiiiiiiniHiMtiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniMiiniiiiiiiiiimniiiiiHnHiiHiiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiMriiiiiiininiiiiiiiiiuiiniiiMiininiuniiiMiMniHiiiiHiirniiiiinimiiiiniHiiniiiiiiiinimiiinitiiiHmiimiiHiiiiiHmiiiHunmiHiiniiiiiniitnniiiMiiiniiimiiiiii^ 
 
 The famous, wonderfully chiselled bronze gates of the Bap- 
 tistery, were a delight. The execution of the large panels represent- 
 ing Bible stories, the artistic grouping of the figures, the graceful, 
 flowing drapery, and the exquisite framework around each panel, of 
 birds and vines and foliage made a fascinating study. 
 
 The dark interior with columns and tombs, the signs of the zodiac 
 in black and white marbles on the floor and the old baptismal font 
 was an interesting place. Here for centuries children have been 
 brought for baptism. Here Dante was baptized, and here every child 
 born in Florence, whether that of the Grand Duke, or the poorest 
 peasant, receives its baptismal name; one only exception being made 
 for the poor, nameless, abandoned waifs left at the door of the 
 Foundling Hospital, which institution is permitted its own baptismal 
 font. 
 
 We made repeated visits to the galleries of those immense 
 palaces, the UfRzi and Pitti (connected by a passageway above the 
 quaint, little jewelers' shops on the Ponte Vecchio — that dear old 
 bridge that crosses the Arno) where treasures of Art are measured by 
 miles, and oh, the gems, the masterpieces of those wonderful collec- 
 tions ! 
 
 What glorious pictures! what delightful statuary and what a 
 debt of gratitude posterity owes to the patrons of art wherever in 
 the World they were, who got together such noble collections. We 
 took great interest in the portraits of Florentine society; the princes 
 and bankers, and the lovely women who "preserved from oblivion by 
 a painter's hand live on in enduring grace and youth." 
 
 For the massive, medieval palaces we felt great enthusiasm. 
 The Pitti and Uflizi, the Strozzi with wrought iron lanterns and rings 
 on the facades where flags fluttered and torches flared on triumphal 
 and festive occasions; the Palazzo Vecchio with overhanging battle- 
 ments and quaint, picturesque tower, a landmark that often guided 
 our wandering steps; and the Palazzo del Podesta, known as ^'il 
 Bargello" for centuries the residence of the Podesta, chief magistrate 
 of Florence. The Podesta, always an alien noble, holding ofiice for 
 only six months, came by invitation with assistants and retinue, to try 
 cases and settle disputes between the ever warring factions of the 
 Commonwealth. 
 
 The court and stairway of il Bargello with statues and armorial 
 bearings and the open loggia above was a joy to look upon. 
 
 Another of the joys of Florence that we made many a detour 
 for sight of, was the exquisite Loggia dei Lanzi, on pillared arches, 
 
 Page Ninety-two 
 
wiwMiiiiiiHHiMiiiNiiiiiuuiiuiiiMiHnmiuiiiiiiiniHiiiiiiinmiiiiiHiiiiiiiuiiHiiniiiiiiiHimiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinHiiiiiiiiiiuiiiinHiiHiiiMiiiiiiiiinii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiMiiiiuiiiiiiitiinMniiiiiititiiiiiuiiiiiiniiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiHiHiiiiiiiiiniuiiniHiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiHiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiM 
 
 open to the air and sunshine and holding splendid sculptures in 
 marble and bronze. 
 
 We went to the Foundling Hospital (with admirable niceness of 
 feeling called by the Florentines, the Hospital of the Innocents) 
 where, above the columns and arches of the facade, was Delia Robbias 
 delightful frieze of adorable, swathed babies. The most appealing 
 works of Art! those lovely medallions of blue and white porcelain 
 depicting the helplessness of infancy. We noticed them over many 
 doors throughout the City, and you learned upon inquiry that all 
 houses so adorned were the property of the Institution. 
 
 On that first visit to Florence we often saw in the streets, mem- 
 bers of the Brotherhood of the Misericordia carrying on their should- 
 ers a litter on which an outlined form could be plainly seen. At first 
 it was a decided shock to meet them, garbed as they were from head 
 to foot in black, with hoods fitting closely over their heads, their 
 gleaming eyes shining through holes in the black veil that hung be- 
 fore their faces. A Brotherhood that included in its membership 
 men from every rank of life, the titled aristocrat, and the man who 
 gained his bread by the sweat of his brow. Called together by the 
 tolling of the Campanile bell at any hour of the day or night they 
 would hurry to the Church to learn where their services were needed ; 
 and "the Grand Duke has been seen, at sound of the Tower bell to 
 rise from his seat at table, and quietly withdraw from his assembled 
 guests to attend the summons." 
 
 They furnished the destitute with food, supplied medicines to 
 the indigent sick, watched through the night at their bedsides, carried 
 them to hospitals, and to their last resting places those whose suffer- 
 ings were over ; this mission was performed at night, and once we met 
 in a narrow street a little procession, each carrying a lighted torch 
 and chanting a weird requiem as they marched. Learning that all 
 their revenue came from begging, we always put something in the 
 little box when it was held before us by a black robed Brother. 
 
 In the church of San Lorenzo we saw Michael Angelo's splendid 
 monumental tombs of the Medici and the burial chapter richly deco- 
 rated with armorial bearings in marble and precious stones. 
 
 By the merest chance we saw in the cloisters of the church a 
 strange sight. From proceeds of a charity dating far back, homeless 
 cats were fed at noon. The meal was scanty and when it was over 
 the half-starved cats crawled away, and looking after them you 
 exclaimed, "How I should like to give them all a square meal with 
 plenty of cream.'* 
 
 Page Ninety-three 
 
■wnwHiiiiiMiMMiiwiiinnnwtMtnmiiiiwmwmmmimmmmiimtminwni WMi i miHm iiimnmnmmmMiiimiitmwtii^ 
 
 ■J!^.,£n„,M,,.„2,.,,5.,,,,l,..,S,.,»?. ;;;;;:.■ £„.9.,..i?l...jE 2....E...„.,„„„M„„^,„„1„„X 
 
 All the churches had rich; interesting interiors, — monuments, 
 chapels, frescoes and tombs. In Santa Croce "the shrine of Italian 
 genius" we saw the resting places of Michael Angelo, Galileo, Machi- 
 avelli and Rossini. 
 
 Or San Michel (once a granary) was the church of the powerful 
 guilds. Niches, in the exterior held their patron Saints, and whenever 
 a Saints Day was celebrated, every statue held a fluttering flag and the 
 old church took on a gay and festive look. 
 
 One glorious day we went to Fiesole three miles away. Outside 
 the city, in all the open spaces, children and grown up people were 
 gathering wild flowers, and thickly dotted over the radiant country 
 were lovely villas, with terraces, balustrades adorned with statues, 
 blooming gardens, fountains, and clumps of tall, picturesque cypress 
 trees. When we reached the country road we found it full of anima- 
 tion; peasants walking in both directions, and country carts carrying 
 the products of small places to the city markets; and we passed little 
 shrines with bunches of wild flowers lying before the image of the 
 Virgin; and you found the Villa where Boccacio laid the scene of his 
 Decameron, — ^the place where the seven discreet, nobly born ladies 
 with three escorts and servants took refuge when fleeing from the 
 plague-stricken city; and we came upon the small sheet of water of 
 which Walter Savage Landor wrote, 
 
 "Here by the Lake, Boccacio's fair brigade. 
 Beguiled the hours, and tale for tale repaid." 
 
 We lingered long in the lovely, poet-haunted spot, then went on 
 and up to Fiesole, the old Etruscan town. 
 
 Another day we hunted up "the star tower of Galileo." A de- 
 lightful walk by a winding path through vineyards, with here and 
 there a peach tree in blossom, led to the summit of a steep hill, where, 
 at a corner of a charming villa, stood the tower from which Galileo 
 made his observations, discovered new stars, and studied the moun- 
 tains of the moon; and there "Milton, a fair haired boy," visited the 
 great Astronomer. 
 
 The Cascine — once a dairy farm, cascina — ^the beautiful park of 
 Florence was ideal. A park of sunny, flower-gemmed meadows, 
 woodland, and charming avenues of trees running along the Arno 
 for its entire two miles of length. There, whenever we found time 
 to go, we saw the wealth and fashion of Florence promenading, or 
 driving and always among the number, Victor Emmanuel who still 
 remained in Florence at the Pitti Palace. To the chraming Boboli 
 
 Page Ninety-four 
 
wHmittnumiMiimmmmnHitmimmnnmNmmNnimntiimiitnnmtmnmminmmimnnmnmnMnmiiimtinnnmmmitmmmitn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 «miHiHHiMiiiinitHiiiiNiiiiinuiiiiMiiiiiiiiitiiitiiiiiitiiiuiiitninrriiminnHiHimitmniiniiiimiiiiimmiiiHHiMnHiiimtMHiiHUMiiiiiiiMMiiiiiiHim)iiiuttH^ 
 
 gardens — ^the King's gardens — ^belonging to, and adjoining the Pitti 
 Palace we could only have access on Sundays when they were always 
 crowded. 
 
 At the hotel we had met Mr. and Mrs. Washburn from Boston. 
 Mr. Washburn was a lawyer of large practise and ripe experience; 
 being in poor health he was traveling for rest and recreation. They 
 were delightful people, cultured and genial, much older than we 
 were, and when we met at dinner and gave them the spoils of our 
 day's sightseeing they were often incredulous. They had been in 
 Florence two months and had done leisurely what we were doing with 
 a rush, and our activities in getting on the tops of hills and high 
 buildings for views, and seeing things generally were a constant 
 source of surprise and pleasure to them. 
 
 They never went for a days sightseeing ^\dth us, but we had 
 many delightful hours together; we strolled about the streets enjoy- 
 ing the attractive shop windows; we went to Mr. Power's studio and 
 had a pleasant visit with that genial artist ; we walked time and again 
 over the old bridge looking at the pretty trinkets in the jewelers' 
 windows, and lingered long at the open space left vacant by a single 
 house, to enjoy the charming outlook up and down the Arno; towards 
 the close of day we often drove to San Miniato al Monte — a noble old 
 church — and waited on the terrace to see the sunset light fall upon 
 the "fair city of Florence." 
 
 Once we went into the Campo Santo, back of the church where 
 we all saw for the first time what was common in Northern Italy, 
 portrait statues of the departed erected over the places where they 
 lay at rest. The men were not bad, but the women attired in gar- 
 ments of the prevailing style, lace trimmed, with ruffles and flounces, 
 and wearing many ornaments were sad to contemplate. Where there 
 were no statues, likenesses of the deceased were inserted in the tomb- 
 stones. 
 
 With Mr. and Mrs. Washburn we went from Florence to Pisa. 
 We crossed the Arno to the famous group of buildings removed from 
 the busy streets and standing quite alone. The Duomo, Baptistery 
 and Campanile all built with rows of short white marble columns and 
 arches rising one above another, and ornamented with bands of black 
 marble, presented a unique appearance. Within, we found lovely, 
 old, stained glass windows, marble and bronze statues and monuments 
 and a richly gilded vaulting. In the Baptistery, a pulpit and bap- 
 tismal font of exquisite workmanship. 
 
 We sat down on the Cathedral steps, opposite the Campanile, or 
 
 Page Ninety-Uve 
 
iiiuiititHiiiininiiiiiiimninniiimiiiiinHiiiiiiiiimNiiiiiiiniuiiHuiiHiHnmnttuutumHiiMiiHHiiiiiiuHimiiniiniiiiiiiiiliiuiiiuiuiitimiiiiiiiiuiiim 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 'mmiiHnininiiinmiiiiiiiinininiiiiimMiuniiimniiiiiiiiihiiniinMtinmimiiaiMiiniiiiiiiiHminnuniuiiiniiiniMnuiinMintiiiniiiiHiiiiuiniiiiiiiiminiuiiiiiniuM 
 
 Leaning Tower, and speculated as all the World has done for cen- 
 turies, whether the incline of fifteen feet from the perpendicular was 
 accident or design. You and Mr. Washburn thought it intentional,, 
 basing your opinions upon the fact that there were two leaning towers 
 at Bologna, one at Saragossa, and others in unfrequented towns in 
 Italy and all built at about the same time. Then you and I went 
 to the platform on the upper gallery of the tower and had a glorious 
 view. 
 
 From Pisa we went to Spezia. Early the next morning we were 
 off for Sestri Levante, forty-five miles away. In sharp turns our 
 road ascended until we reached an elevation of 2,000 feet. The views 
 were glorious. A shore line dotted with villages and Spezia nestled 
 amid the gray-green olive trees. Looking down upon the sparkling 
 water we talked of Shelly — his brilliant mind, his virtues, his defects 
 and his sad fate, — ^how returning to Spezia from Leghorn where he 
 had gone to see Leigh Hunt and Byron, he perished at thirty years 
 of age, in a storm that lashed to fury the waters of this placid, peace- 
 ful looking Bay. Our road was full of interest — only a meager 
 population in little hamlets poorly housed, with a few cattle and 
 many goats grazing in the green places; but we saw ruins of castles 
 and towers and had lovely views of inland valleys. 
 
 Under a group of trees, near a spring of deliciously cold water 
 with a view in the blue distance of the pointed snow white summits 
 of the Carara Mountains, we spent a happy hour over the excellent 
 lunch put up for us at the hotel ; to the driver's few lettuce leaves and 
 chunk of black bread we added delicacies from our basket and made 
 him happy, while near bj^ the horses crunched, and tossed their nose- 
 bags of oats, quite members of our little party. 
 
 After our road left the ridge we made the descent to a small 
 bay, between hillsides pink with heather, and in the sweet dusk of 
 the Spring evening were put down at the railroad station of Sestri 
 Levante. 
 
 Genoa was twenty-six miles away. In time a train came that 
 carried us there in two and a half hours. Oh, those tedious Italian 
 trains ! 
 
 From the Hotel d'ltalia the following morning, with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Washburn, we went out into the streets of Genoa "La Superba." 
 
 The first thing that attracted our attention was the old National 
 costume, still in vogue in Genoa, of women and girls wearing long 
 flowing white veils pinned to the hair and falling over the shoulders. 
 They made the young, pretty girls look perfectly bewitching — the 
 
 Page Ninety-six 
 
iHuiMiHiniiMiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiftiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiliNUiuiiuiuiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiniiiiriiiMiunnniiiiirniiiiKiiiiiniMiiiiiiiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 lumiiiiMiiuiuiiiiiMiiinuiiniMiiiiiiiMiiriniiiunniNininiiiuiiiiiininiirMniHHiuiiiininiiinniiniHmHriiHniniHiinuiiiMiiinniiuniiiiiuiJiiniininiiiiiMiMiiuiinniiiiuininiin 
 
 middle aged, the faded and the old, would have looked better without 
 them. 
 
 We visited the most famous and imposing palaces of the Genoese 
 nobility, admiring their Courtyards paved with marble, surrounded by 
 colonnades of marble pillars, with orange trees and blooming shrubs, 
 and in the center an ornamental fountain; broad marble staircases 
 with bannisters of gilded bronze led to spacious rooms, hung with 
 rare and beautiful pictures. 
 
 At noon our friends returned to the hotel and we went on with 
 sightseeing. Handsome churches with rich interiors, the Columbus 
 Monument, lofty places for views, brass signs of business houses 
 fastened to the walls by padlocks; and enjoying on all sides the 
 street scenes; the women and girls with streaming white veils; the 
 steps leading to streets above, up which people, and donkeys with 
 loaded panniers were toiling; the clothes fluttering from lines over 
 the narrow alleys, and oh, those alleys, misnamed streets; — just 
 passage-ways between houses six and seven stories high, such you 
 thought, as Heine wrote of "where the people sat and talked in their 
 doorways and touched knees with the people sitting and talking in 
 the doorways of the opposite side." 
 
 At dinner we told what we had seen and done. Our friends had 
 been looking over their guide to Genoa and reading of the church 
 dome 370 feet in height that commanded a wonderful view, felt sure 
 that we would have that view — and we did. 
 
 We spent the evening on the crowded streets admiring in the 
 shop windows articles of Genoese manufacture; gold and silver 
 filigree work, silks, velvets and candied fruits. 
 
 The next morning we went to the Old Mole. We walked along 
 the arcaded street facing the busy harbor and saw many entertaining 
 things; the little shops that supplied the sailors with their wants — 
 tobacco and pipes, ear-rings, pea jackets, rubber boots and clothing 
 of every kind. 
 
 Little eating places with blue smoke pouring from doors and 
 windows, where fish and meat and vegetables were sizzling in boiling 
 oil, and frowsy women and girls, standing in doorways called out the 
 menu in loud voices, and the price at which it would be served. 
 
 And the ships from ports of countries all over the World, with 
 their flags flying from mastheads, and clothes of the crew fluttering 
 and drying on the decks, — and the men that came from the ships 
 were a study as they rolled along the busy street singly or in groups. 
 Most of them were "old salts" with tanned, seamed, weather-beaten 
 
 Page Ninety-seven 
 
d4inniiiiiHM4iiiiiiiiiiinmninmiinttitmiitiMH«iiitniiiiniiimiiimnninniitiiimiMmmiiniimniiimininninmnmniMiiininiiniiiintniiiintiiittiiiuiiiiMMiiinniimimi»iHiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iniHiiimiwiiHHiiiiiiiimHinHHiiiHiniiiiininiiininiunwiiiniiiHiiiHiuiiHiiiiiniuiHHmmiiiminiUHHiiiiiiiHiimHiiiiMnHniHUMiiiHniHUMiiiniunMiniM 
 
 faces, hoops of gold in their ears and red kerchiefs loosely knotted 
 around their open throats. In color they were white, yellow and 
 black. And the small carts being loaded with all kinds of provisions 
 and merchandise, — before each cart four or five mules or donkeys 
 harnessed tandem; they all had strings of bells around their necks, 
 and when they clattered away over the stony pavement, the bells 
 jingling, the drivers cracking their whips, and a donkey or two 
 braying, we laughed heartily. 
 
 Later in the day we went to the Pallavicini Villa. The grounds 
 were extensive and abloom with a perfect glory of flowers; such 
 masses of gorgeous rhododendrons and azaleas, and from large trees 
 men were cutting camelies, red, white and shell pink and packing 
 them in boxes for shipment. Sunny glades, shaded paths, lakes, cas- 
 cades, avenues of splendid trees and a background of rugged hills 
 with lovely views — no wonder the gardens were celebrated. 
 
 As we neared the exit we heard screams, shouts of laughter and 
 angry words from a large party in advance of us. We asked our 
 guide what had happened. He answered he would show us later. 
 We soon came to a grass plot with beds of flowers surrounded by 
 many small arbors, where he told us to wait and going forward 
 turned on a cross-fire of water in spray and fine jets. Caught in this 
 cross-fire of water if refuge was taken in an arbor, it was only to 
 find that water was everywhere spurting up from the ground. It 
 was probably the dignified appearance of Mr. and Mrs. Washburn 
 that saved our little party from the experience. 
 
 That evening we parted from our friends. It was not good-by, 
 only au revoir, for we had planned to meet in Paris. The war was 
 over and treaties ratified. The Commune had been proclaimed, but 
 we had faith that the Government would soon suppress it. Spain 
 was our objective point and we wanted to reach there while still the 
 freshness of Spring was over the land. 
 
 At nine o'clock we sailed in a small coasting steamer for Nice. 
 Going from the harbor was a wonderful sight. The lighthouse with 
 its powerful revolving light, — ship lights twinkling in the forest of 
 masts, — frowning forts, — the curving lights from handsome homes 
 rising terrace above terrace, and in the remote background, the 
 dark, sheltering, everlasting hills. 
 
 Going on deck at half -past six next morning we found that we 
 were opposite the town of Monaco, picturesquely situated on the 
 level summit of a rocky headland. Monaco! of all the World's 
 
 Page Ninety-eight 
 
itwHimiiiiiMintiMitiiMuiiuitituHiniriiMiiiMinHMiMiimntiiiiitiiiitiHiiMmimiimnMHntmiiinHmiiinmniimiirniimiimiirHniniiiinniiiiiimmiiimiiimHiininimiHniHniii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 WHH<HiiiiHiMiiiiuHi»iiiimuHiiii»iiiiiiinniiiunHimimiMuiniiiiiiiniim»HuiininnH»HiiiiiiiiHHniMHiHiiiii»HiiiiiiiMiiHiiHiMiniiiiiiiwiHiimii»miH>iiHiiiHi^ 
 
 principalities the smallest and with its possession of Monte Carlo, 
 the wickedest! 
 
 Nine miles farther on we came to anchor in the small, picturesque 
 harbor of Nice. 
 
 During our stay of a few hours Nice did not show us her pleas- 
 ant side. True, the sun was shining — shining with so intense a 
 warmth that the shade was grateful, but a high wind was blowing, 
 and clouds of white dust filled the air. 
 
 We walked on the promenade along the seashore, and at noon 
 took the train for Marseilles. As we came in sight of the sea, you 
 said, 
 
 "Well — do you realize that we are on the Riviera?" 
 "Riviera," I repeated, "what a pretty musical name it is." 
 "Yes," you answered, "Riviera di Ponente, the West, and by 
 poetic license the Westerly wind and the setting sun; and Sestri- 
 Levante is the East and by the same license the rising sun." 
 
 Then we talked of the lovely scenes through which we were 
 passing, little dreaming how familiar they would be in happy winters 
 of the years to come. 
 
 Lofty hills crowned by ruins; orange, lemon and fig trees; 
 delicious villas embowered in flowers; vineyards, and old, old olive 
 trees with trunks twisted and gnarled by father Time; and the bold 
 indented picturesque shore, with rocks and cliffs and dear little semi- 
 circular bays filled with the blue waters of the Mediterranean; so 
 lovely, so vivid, so varying in color, that Tennyson described it per- 
 fectly when he likened it to "the peacock's neck in hue." Over it all 
 brilliant sunshine and an azure sky. Ah, Dear Heart of mine, what 
 a delightful ride that was, and how we did enjoy it! 
 
 As we neared Marseilles the country lost its attractive appear- 
 ance. In driving from the station we noticed evidences of excite- 
 ment everywhere, — guards of soldiers and bands of agitated men. 
 When we reached the Hotel du Louvre we learned that on the pre- 
 ceding day the Red Republicans had taken possession of the City 
 Hall, cut all the telegraph wires, and that the City was practically 
 in the hands of the insurgents. 
 
 Our after dinner stroll was of short duration. A cold wind was 
 blowing and the streets were deserted except by loud-talking, angry 
 men, and groups of soldiers. The following day it rained steadily 
 and as Marseilles was not a pleasant place to loiter in just then, we 
 left by the night train at ten o'clock. 
 
 Page Ninety-nine 
 
NiiiiiiiiinuiuiiuiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiuiininiiuniiiiniiiinHiiiiiiniHiiiiiiiiHMiiniiiiiiiiiimniniiiiiitniiiiiniMiiiiiiniinitMiniiiniiniiiniHniiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiniin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME O F MANY 
 
 niiiiiniiiiiiiiiiniinMiniiininiinMiiniiiiniMUMiniiirnnuiuiMiiMMiuiiiiiiiiiniiuiiiuniiiiiniMuiinmiiiHiiiiiiuitiniuiininiuniniiiiiiniiunnininHHiuniiiiniiiiiiiiii 
 
 At seven the next morning we reached Cette; after Marseilles 
 the principal commercial port on the South coast of France. We 
 rode through a pleasant country intersected by many canals and at 
 two in the afternoon were at Toulouse. 
 
 A neighbor who often called at our old home in Central New 
 York raised a variety of fancy poultry and the geese whose ancestors 
 came from this old French province were his especial pride, and fine 
 birds they surely were. When he bid us farewell, he said, "If in 
 your travels you reach Toulouse and see any of their famous geese 
 you must let me know if they are finer than mine." We had reached 
 Toulouse but felt there was little chance of seeing any geese. 
 
 Trains packed with troops were a common sight in France at 
 that tinae. Soldiers going to Paris to help in putting down the 
 commune. Others that had been wounded, and prisoners of war re- 
 turning from Germany to their homes. In a long train side-tracked 
 near the town we saw many pale-faced boys who looked pathetically 
 ill. 
 
 Soon after leaving Toulouse, I was studying the guide book to 
 be ready for the sights of Pau, when you said, 
 
 "Oh — look out of the window." 
 
 I looked, and there were the geese that I had wished so much to 
 see, and a very pretty sight they were. In the space of a mile or 
 two, we saw fully a dozen flocks. Each flock, numbering about 
 twenty-five, plump, snow-white geese was in charge of either a young 
 girl or boy in picturesque peasant costume, with a long wand. 
 
 "Just as I have seen them in pictures," I said. 
 
 We reached Pau ten o'clock at night. A tedious journey of 
 twenty-four hours from Marseilles, and were glad to rest at the com- 
 fortable Hotel la Paix. 
 
 The following morning we were out early for a view of the 
 Pyrenees from the famous "Terrace at Pau" and a glorious view it 
 was ! For nearly one hundred miles we saw the splendid snow-capped 
 range, with here and there a glittering peak rising above its fellows. 
 
 The town was divided in two, by a small, swift stream, the Gave 
 de Pau, flowing in a deep ravine. Crossed by many bridges it added 
 greatly to the picturesqueness of the place. "Gave" (meaning a 
 mountain stream or torrent) soon became a familiar word to us. The 
 little "Gaves" fed by mountain snows, taking the name of every 
 town through which they passed. 
 
 In the Place Royale we admired the statue of the "White 
 
 Page One Hundred 
 
•HHxii" i""i>i"i"iMiHniiniiiitiniiiiMniniHHniiiiniiiiiinMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinfliiiiiiiiiuiniiiiiiiiitiiHiniiiiiiiiliriiiiMiiiiinirtixriiffliiiiiAiMM«ii/liiiAiiiiiwtAiiiiiA 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 imHiiiiniiiMtiiiiiiiiiiiiiniMiniiiiiiiiiiNiiiiHiii(nniniHiiniiiiiimitiHiiiiiiHiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiMUiiiiiniinniiniiiiiiiiHninHiiiitnniiiimiiiiniiniimiiniiiiiiHn 
 
 Plumed Knight" and walked in the fine Boulevard des Pyrenees to 
 the Castle gardens. Indeed Pau with handsome hotels an elegant 
 casino, the old castle, and delightful walks and \Tiews captivated us 
 completely. 
 
 With a crowd of tourists we were shown through the State 
 apartments of the Castle, and the room in which Henry IV first saw 
 the light, the cradle in which he was rocked, made from an immense 
 tortoise shell, and a wonderfully carved old bed. 
 
 Toward the end of the day we left Pau and four hours later 
 were in Bayonne, an interesting, medieval city, divided by two rivers 
 and united by many bridges, with narrow animated streets, roadways 
 paved with cobblestones and old houses with long rows of arcades. 
 Under the arcades were dark, little shops in and out of which men and 
 boys, women and girls were bustling. The girls were pretty and 
 wore small, bright colored handkerchiefs pinned over their abundant 
 hair. 
 
 We were only three miles from the sea and by climbing the 
 Citadel Hill might have looked upon the Bay of Biscay but we were 
 growing wise and did not do it. We found a delightful promenade 
 next morning along a river bank, but deserted at that early hour. We 
 strayed into a suburb of pretty homes with small orchards of blos- 
 soming peach and apricot trees; and saw in a long avenue two very 
 old men making rope, with the hemp stretched from tree to tree. 
 
 At noon we drove from the Hotel du Commerce to the station. 
 There we saw a party of Basques from an adjoining province, and 
 how picturesque they were in their jaunty costumes! A dark blue 
 woolen cap, — a velvet jacket so short that the wide crimson sash was 
 seen all around, — dark knee breeches, — long woolen stockings and 
 leather sandals or wooden shoes. Of their queer uncouth language 
 we could not understand a word. 
 
 Two hours after leaving Bayonne we crossed the Bidassoa river 
 and were in Spain, and a mile or two farther on came to Irun, the 
 first frontier town, where we changed cars, and baggage was exam- 
 ined. We had each a large valise. The entire contents of the two 
 were thrown upon the ground, and each article was carefully exam- 
 ined before being returned to its place. Your valise gave no trouble, 
 but in mine they found a bottle of cologne wrapped round and round 
 with underclothing to prevent its being broken. The bottle was only 
 half full but one after another official was called in to express an 
 opinion. We thought it was going to be confiscated when an officer 
 in elaborate uniform walking among the contents of many trunks 
 
 Page One Hundred One 
 
umjiHr.inMm:Hi<iV<iHmimi<winnf4imtfiiAnriiii;tf.miHmiiiHHmttmiHiHmHnmiinmnHiiHnnnmiiiimnminiirniiiiiininmtmimiiniiiiiiiiimimm 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 wtmiMiiHMiiiMiiiuMiimHnMiuiiiHiiHntiininitiMiuiiiinNniniiimniwiuMliiiiMiHHimHMiiiiHHiHHiiinniiHiiiinHiHiiiinKHiiimHiiHiniuinMinHiitiiiiiniiMiniiniHiMtNiM 
 
 and bags on a round of general inspection reached us. He was 
 handed the bottle. He looked at the label, cast a withering look on 
 the deputies awaiting his verdict, turned to me with a bow and a 
 smile and gave me my eau de Cologne with the air of a Grandee. 
 
 Before the daylight died away we had many lovely views, as our 
 train began its climb to cross the Pyrenees, where, in Spain the great 
 range had lost its mighty proportions. We had a first class compart- 
 ment entirely to ourselves and a comfortable night. When the 
 morning dawned we were in a bleak, arid, unattractive region. Soon 
 we passed the Escorial, that vast, gloomy pile, built by Philip Second 
 for his lonely home, and for centuries the burial place of Spanish 
 Kings. Over 3,000 feet above sea level, the sullen-looking Palace 
 and Church with dome and towers looked a dismal and forbidding 
 place. 
 
 Reaching Madrid we went to the Fonda de los Embaj adores. 
 The second, substantial breakfast was not yet served and we had to 
 content ourselves with indifferent coffee, tasteless Spanish bread 
 and poor Spanish butter. 
 
 We were not on, but near, the famous Puerta del Sol — the Gate- 
 way of the Sun — and there, we first turned our steps. A large plaza 
 with a fountain in the center — dusty, treeless, and built around with 
 Government and business buildings, hotels, clubs, theaters anid cafes. 
 Ten important streets poured into it, and took from it, at all hours 
 of the day and night a constant stream of humanity. There were 
 private carriages, cabs, tramcars drawn by mules, donkeys with loaded 
 panniers, men and boys with loud voices selling newspapers, lottetfy 
 tickets, matches, toys, books, songs and things without end, girls 
 selling flowers, beggars licensed and numbered, men in long cloaks 
 and broad brinmied hats standing in the sun like statues, girls under 
 bright colored parasols hurrying across the plaza in care of a duenna, 
 water carriers calling out in loud voices, " Aqua, aqua quien quiere, 
 aqua?" the plaza ground being sprinkled (as all the streets of 
 Madrid were sprinkled) by two men, each holding a section of hose, 
 throwing jets of water high in the air, where they met and fell on 
 the dusty places beneath, boys carrying small, metal saucers with 
 long handles, holding live coals, at which men for a grano — a fifth of 
 a cent — lighted their cigarettes, and so forth; and so forth. 
 
 The Royal Picture Gallery, in the Museo del Prado — one of 
 the greatest collections in the World — was a joy to see, and a joy to 
 remember. We had seen many fine examples of Velasquez and 
 Murillo, but the versatihty of these two great painters was a revela- 
 
 Page One Hundred Two 
 
«iniMiiiiiniiMimMmitniiiirtnMMiiiiiiiiiiiMiii{MinmiimininnitiiiirHMMiuiimmHNttniiiniiitHtminiiniiiMiiiHiiiiiinMiH[inniuHiniiiiHiniiHiiitiitiiittiiiiiiHiiiimimiiiiim^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 mrHiiniiniiMiiiiiuniwinMiiiMiiiiuiMiuiniiriiiniiHiHiHiiiiiniiiiniimiHMiiiiuiUHWMHiuiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiniHiiimimiiiMiiiiiiinmiMiiiiiniiuiiiiiiiiiiHninmiHiiiiiiim 
 
 tion. Velasquez portraits of peasants and beggars, — of men, women 
 and children, especially of those Royal children, how wonderful 
 they were! They might grow up to be cruel and merciless, but what 
 delightful little personages on the canvas of the artist, particularly 
 the girls with their frizzled hair standing out far from their heads, 
 their bizarre dress with immense hoop petticoats, and the Court 
 dwarfs beside them; and the glorious compositions of Murillo; and 
 Ribera, powerful but dreadfully realistic ; and pictures of Zurbaran — 
 fine gray-gowned figures of cowled and corded Monks and of a 
 later period Goya, with portraits and lively, interesting pictures of 
 Spanish life; and in addition to Spanish painters, there were the 
 best and most brilliant creations of the Italian, Flemish, Dutch, 
 German and French Masters. 
 
 After four hours in the Gallery, you said, 
 
 "It is a wonderful collection and Philip Second did some good 
 in the World when he added to its treasures, — ^but I am famishing 
 and must have something to eat." 
 
 We went to a street crossing hoping to find a cab. Instead of 
 a cab, in a cloud of dust, along came a lumbering omnibus drawn by 
 three mules abreast. When you paid the fare you told the conductor 
 we wanted to go to a good restaurant. He answered "Si Senor," and 
 soon put us down at a "Restaurante" which he assured us was "bueno, 
 muy bueno." It was a very Spanishy looking place, with a strong 
 smell of garlic. There was no menu, and you asked the waiter what 
 they had, to which he answered, "hay de todo Senor — todo loque vd 
 quireo," at which you smiled, and said to me, they have got every- 
 thing, but probably not a thing that we can eat. Then you asked if 
 we could have olla podrido, "certeza Senor," answered the waiter. 
 When he went to fill the order, you said, 
 
 "Now — you will have the opportunity of trying the national 
 dish of Spain." 
 
 "What is it made of?" I queried. 
 
 "As I remember it, a little of everything," you answered. 
 
 As the waiter set before us a deep platter full of a steaming 
 mixture, he said "Puchero Senor." 
 
 "Olla podrido," you insisted, and with a shrug of the shoulders, 
 the waiter answered, "todo uno Senor." 
 
 We were fairly ravenous and the national dish of Spain was 
 good, — it was more than good, it was excellent. After the pangs of 
 hunger were allayed, you asked me if I could tell what the dish was 
 
 Page One Hundred Three 
 
;niiiiimnimniiiiniiniimiinniHiiiiiniininMinminMniiinniiniiiiniiHmMiiiiMiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiniiiiimiiiiiiiiiniiiiim 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iMiuuiiHiiiiiHiiHimiiiiinniiiniinMMniiiiniiiniMinMiHiiiiiiinHMiiiininiMmiiMntiiiimiiininnniMiHiiiintiiiuHHiiiiiiuiiiiiniuiiiuiiiMiiHniiHiiiinnninniniiiniiiiiii^ 
 
 made of, and then together we made a list of the contents, which my 
 "ever ready pencil" proceeded to make a note of. Beef, chicken, 
 sausage, ham, rice, tomatoes, hearts of artichokes, gumbo, peas, 
 plenty of green peppers, small red beans and garlic. [On that first 
 visit to Spain, the national dish was served at all the hotels for the 
 second breakfast, or dinner, and often for both, — on subsequent 
 visits many years after, it was unusual, and on our last visit we went 
 to a Spanish restaurant in Madrid for a taste of it.] 
 
 You had ordered, as the proper thing to take with the national 
 dish, a flask of val de penas, the best red wine made in Spain. With 
 smiles and "here's to you dear" we clinked our full glasses together 
 and tasted our wine. 
 
 My face askew, I asked, "What is it? Nothing made from 
 grapes could taste so vile." 
 
 You answered, "I suppose it is wine brought to market in a 
 goat skin, and has probably been stored in the skin a long time." 
 
 Clapping your hands, (the only means of summoning the 
 waiter) he admitted that the flask had been filled direct from the 
 skin, and said their customers liked it that way. 
 
 You ordered cofl'ee — with the coff'ee the waiter brought two 
 glasses of water with half a dozen wafers in a saucer; these wafers, 
 called "azucarillos" were always served with coff'ee and chocolate; 
 they dissolved readily and gave a pleasant, refreshing taste to the 
 water, with the flavor of a mild lemonade. 
 
 We had little experience with restaurants during our stay in 
 Spain as all the hotels were conducted on what we called, the Ameri- 
 can plan, a fixed price, three dollars a day each, including rooms, 
 meals, light and attendance, and the distances were never so great 
 that returning to the hotel for luncheon was an inconvenience. 
 
 Leaving the restaurant we took a mule drawn omnibus and 
 returned to the Prado, which had now assumed a lively appearance. 
 The center of this famous promenade, called the Saloon del Prado, 
 reserved for pedestrians was wide, dusty, pleasantly shaded by four 
 rows of trees, with small iron chairs on either side, and adorned 
 with statues and fine marble fountains. On both sides was a carriage 
 drive, and an equestrian way, all of which gradually became one of 
 the gayest, brightest, most brilliant and interesting spectacles imag- 
 inable. Elegant carriages with crests on the panels, footmen and 
 coachmen in rich livery, and handsome horses with shining metal 
 glittering in the harness, — occasionally a four-in-hand, or a team 
 
 Fage One Hundred Four 
 
iiiiriiniinniiMiiiiiHiiiitniiiniiiii»iinniiiiiitiiniiinHiuiiiiiinniiiiintriiiiiiriitriiiiniMHiiiiiniiiitiiHniiiniininiiiitMiuiinuiiiiiiiiiiituiiiiininiiiiiiiiiiiiininiiniin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiiiiiMMnHiiiniiiiniitMnnimnMniiiiriiunMiiiiiiMiMiiiinniiiiiiiiiiiinmiiiiiiiniminiiuMiiiiiiiiinniiuiiinnuniiniiiiiriiinnnniiiiiiiiiiMiMiiMiiuiininniiiiiuiinini 
 
 driven tandem before a stylish cart, and we saw several carriages 
 bearing crests, drawn by fine, glossy, mouse-colored mules. 
 
 Officers were riding back and forth on the equestrian way, — 
 ladies and gentlemen were leaving their carriages for a little stroll 
 and to meet and chat with friends. 
 
 The animation was all carried on between two handsome foun- 
 tains — Cybele and Neptune — the short distance being packed with 
 people, and after the little walk, the coquetting, the constant opening 
 and closing of fans, the talk and laughter, carriages would be re- 
 entered for a drive in the park. 
 
 These most attractive Madrilenos were adorned with jewelry 
 and sparkling gems, gov/ned in rich fabrics of different colors — 
 those in black, looking by far, the most distinguished — made in the 
 latest fashion, their trailing skirts raising little clouds of dust as they 
 went along. A high comb held the thick braids of dark hair in 
 place, and from it hung the becoming black lace mantilla that fell 
 gracefully over the shoulders. Always a fan in the hand that was 
 never at rest, — always a rose or red carnation pinned to the hair on 
 one side. They were fine looking women, some of quite heroic size, 
 very vivacious, with lustrous, flashing dark eyes, gleaming white 
 teeth and good features. Those hovering about the magical age of 
 twenty were perfectly beautiful! We had been greatly entertained 
 and delighted by such an unusual sight and not until the animation 
 was over did we turn away. 
 
 In the evening we went to a theater to see a variety entertain- 
 ment. Nothing good but the Audalusian dances by a troupe of eight 
 pretty young girls in charming costume. To the music of several 
 guitars they danced the cachuca and bolero, gracefully and delight- 
 fully. All through the evening an usher came at intervals to look at 
 the stub of your ticket; you asked for an explanation, and learned, 
 that those who did not care for the entire performance might pay for 
 what they wanted to see, and leave the rest unseen and unpaid for. 
 
 Coming out on the "Saloon del Prado" from the Picture Gallery 
 next morning, we found it in possession of nursemaids in brilliant 
 attire and children. Lovely Spanish children just like the cherubs 
 Murillo painted! They made a pretty picture playing about the 
 beautiful old fountain of Neptune. 
 
 The Royal Palace — said to be the most beautiful Royal Palace 
 in Europe — ^we admired immensely. Of great proportions, built of 
 fine white granite, it stood, a stately, magnificent, glittering pile above 
 the Manzaneres river. In front of the Palace, mounted and on foot 
 
 Page One Hundred Five 
 
'iHHMiiitininiMiiiimiinimiiMMiiiiiiiimiiinimnrinitimmiimiHmHttmutiHttmiiHitHniiiiHiHiiimimiHHiiHiiHiitmiiimHiimmmHHUiHninHiiuiiiHHMiiMHimi^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 WMiiHiHiuiiiiinHiHiiniiiniuiniNHinniHiiiiHiiiiumutiiiHiiHiiimuiiwiMHiimiiiiiMiHiinmiiMiiiunuimiiiniiiuiHuuuiiiinmiHUiiiiiiiiHiiniiHMiininniuiiHiMiuii^ 
 
 were the Royal Guard, in uniform of red, black and white, with 
 spears in their hands. Their plumed hats were remarkable, — white 
 plumes showing in front, and black plumes at the back. From the 
 terrace we had a fine view of the Sierra Guadarrama Mountains, 
 their sharp peaks still covered with a thick mantle of snow. 
 
 In the Royal Armeria, within the Palace grounds we saw an 
 interesting collection of ancient armor, and arms, — the armor worn 
 by Charles V and Philip II and the swords they carried, — also the 
 swords of Cortez and Pizarro. 
 
 The streets of Madrid were a source of never ending interest. 
 In the early mornings donkeys were being everywhere unloaded, 
 and all the sidewalks were market places, with piles of oranges, 
 lemons, vegetables and bunches of flowers. A frequent sight was 
 a man carrying toys, candies and cakes — all of the cheapest kind — 
 and a wheel of fortune, in which little boys and girls, for a small 
 coin, the fraction of a cent, would try their chances at gambling, and 
 it was curious to see the eagerness with which the small faces would 
 watch the turning of the wheel. Looking one day at one of these 
 peripatetic shops and lotteries, a mite of a boy, badly crippled, cried 
 so bitterly upon losing, that you gave him enough money for a dozen 
 chances, and we left him with his little pinched face full of the 
 pleasure of hope. 
 
 We often stopped to look at the women, washing and beating 
 clothes in the scanty stream of the River bed, scooping out the white 
 sand to make a pool of water for their work; and the high, two- 
 wheeled carts drawn by oxen with long red fringe between their 
 horns; and the water carriers, in their short jackets, knee breeches 
 and pointed hats, carrying water in porous jars of clay, a little 
 basket holding two or three glasses, a lemon, an orange, and a saucer 
 of azucarillos. They seemed a part of all the life of the streets, and 
 even when they were out of sight we would hear the cry, "Aqua, 
 aqua fresca." 
 
 And the mounted police carrying lances and wearing cloaks that 
 almost covered their horses ; and men roasting coffee on the sidewalks 
 all over the City, turning a cylinder over a charcoal fire. When the 
 beans were roasted a bell would be rung and to homes, hotels and 
 cafes the fresh roasted coffee would be carried, and the cylinder 
 re-filled from a bag of green coffee beans. 
 
 Nearly every day we went to the Picture Gallery, timing our 
 visit so that we should see the fashionable crowd in the Saloon del 
 Prado. Going there on Sunday we found it given over to the 
 
 Page One Hundred Six 
 
■MmHKIIIIWIMItWWWIHMWmmiHnHHniWIIimiWmiWIIinilirilllll ll lllltl l l H HIIIHHBHIWIHtllMIHIWMWIItMIHIMmHHItMtHHIIIWIWMmin^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 ■UUIIIHIUIIIIim(UIIIIIIIIIIHUllHUIHnMHIIIMIIMinillUIIIIIIIIIHIiniH«MIIIUIMM<miWWMHIUIIMHUIUIUIIIUIIHUIIIIimilUllintHUIlllllllUninillHniUIIIIUI^ 
 
 populace, so we took a cab and joined the elite in a drive over the 
 dusty roads of El Retiro park — the least attractive of city parks we 
 had seen in Europe. 
 
 One evening we went to the Opera House to hear Tamberlich 
 sing selections from Opera. He sang well but during the entire 
 evening all over the house people were talking in loud tones. The 
 fashionable world was not there, to our regret. 
 
 The reputation of Madrid for climate has always been bad. 
 Situated on a wind-swept plain, at an altitude of 2,400 feet, the 
 intense heat of summer, and the biting cold of winter, have given 
 rise to several proverbs. "Three months of winter, and nine months 
 of the infernal regions" — "A wind that will not put out the flame 
 of a candle, but will put out the life of a man" — "Do not lay aside 
 your cloak until the fortieth day of May." The men, young and 
 old, were being guided by the latter proverb, and were all enveloped 
 in their long cloaks. Graceful garments those cloaks ! with rich, vivid 
 colored linings that the wearers always managed to show effectively, 
 and often observing an aggravated case, I would exclaim. 
 
 "And men talk about the vanity of womenr 
 
 We had but one day without high wind and clouds of dust. 
 Bright sunshine and the bluest of skies, but an air so keen that we 
 felt warm wraps a necessity, yet the women of Madrid looked serene, 
 smiling and happy under their becoming lace mantillas. "Clothed 
 with vanity as by a garment," was your verdict. 
 
 To quote verbatim from my pencil^ Today, April 3, occurred 
 the opening of the Cortes. Flags streamed from windows and house- 
 tops, and the streets were thronged with people. The splendid pro- 
 cession passed our hotel. A band of music, and soldiers, — a Royal 
 Guard in shining helmets and gleaming sabres, — the King in a 
 gorgeous carriage drawn by four, white Andalusian horses, with 
 outriders in liveries of scarlet and gold, — a long line of state carriages 
 carrying high dignitaries, their coachmen and footmen in brilliant 
 livery. We wanted to see the opening of the Cortes, but Gen. 
 Sickles, our Minister to Spain is in the South, and his representative 
 was all at sea, not knowing how to obtain the favor for which we had 
 asked; and it is no balm to my wounded feelings to be told, that, the 
 procession was probably the best part of it. 
 
 At that time the King of Spain was Amedeo, son of Victor 
 Emmanuel. Poor young fellow not yet twenty-six years of age he 
 had been reluctant to accept the invitation given him by the Cortes. 
 He had yielded at the solicitation of his Father and the earnest wish 
 
 Page One Hundred Seven 
 
iitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiitiiiii mil iiiniiniuiinnniiiiiiiimnMiHiiiiuiHiiimiiiiiiinniinnniinniiitiiiiiiiiiiitiiinniiiHiiiiiiiiininiinimiiniimiiiniiiiiiiiiniiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiim 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 lUinniiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiniiiiinnniiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiMimiiiiimnmiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiniiiiiuiiiniitiiuniiiiinnH 
 
 of the Italian Cabinet, and in the preceding November had been, by 
 the Cortes proclaimed King of Spain. 
 
 Amadeo and the young Queen had done everything possible to 
 win the people. They had given immense sums in charity but the 
 Spanish heart did not warm towards them. We often saw the Royal 
 pair bowing right and left as they drove along but they never received 
 even the deference to which their position entitled them. 
 
 On our last afternoon in Madrid we went to the post office to 
 mail letters and found to our surprise that we could not buy postage 
 stamps there, but must get them at a tobacco shop. The strange 
 custom prevailed in Spain wherever we went, but knowing it, there 
 was no inconvenience since tobacco shops were everywhere numerous. 
 
 That night we lingered late in the Puerta del Sol. After mid- 
 night the serenos began to move about, crossing the plaza, and going 
 to their respective beats, their big bunches of gigantic keys rattling 
 as they walked along. Queer, quaint looking men these serenos, with 
 their long dark cloaks, wide brimmed soft hats, lanterns, and staffs 
 tipped by axes. 
 
 The serenos no longer called out the hours, but still rendered 
 valuable service, for by another strange custom, the men of Madrid 
 never carried latch keys. When they reached their homes late at 
 night, or early in the morning they clapped their hands, calling 
 loudly, ''sereno, sereno" and then waited until the watchman came 
 with his key, and by the light of his lantern, opened the door that 
 admitted the owner to his abode. 
 
 Of the Fonda de los Embaj adores we had but one complaint. 
 Men acted as chambermaids and our pleasant room always smelled of 
 tobacco smoke. 
 
 As in Germany smoking at table was universal. In Germany it 
 was cigars, in Spain cigarettes. Men hurried through one course of 
 their dinner to smoke as many cigarettes as possible before the next 
 course was served. After dinner several ladies smoked one or two 
 cigarettes. 
 
 We left Madrid at seven in the morning and after riding three 
 and a half hours through a bleak, treeless, verdureless country, 
 reached Toledo. 
 
 At the station, awaiting the train we found a rickety old omni- 
 bus drawn by five mules, three near the wheels, and two as leaders. 
 We clambered to the top and set off for the Medieval city, having 
 from our vantage ground a delightful view of its spires and towers, 
 its domes and turrets. 
 
 Page One Hundred Eight 
 
HimiiiiiiiiiinHiMiiiHitiiiniiniiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiniinMHinirHriMiiiiiiiliiininiiiiniiiiiinitiiiiiirnMHniniiiimiiiinininiiiruMiiiininiiiiMtiiiiitnnMnniiriiiinrMiiiiiitiiiinintHiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 yiimriiHiiiiMnHnnjHuniinMiiiiiiiinnnHninMiiiiMiniriNiiniiiiiiiiiiliiiiiiiiirniiiiHinmitmminiiiiiiiiniiiiiiHiiMiiitiinininiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiininiiiniiniiMini^ 
 
 Standing on a rugged height above the river Tagus, Toledo wa^i 
 verily "a city built upon a rock." We rattled over the old Alcantara 
 bridge, getting glimpses right and left of the river, flowing svi^iftly 
 between deep rocky banks, that encircled the city on three sides, then 
 up through narrow, winding streets, and in front of the Fonda de 
 Lino we scrambled down and enquired for something to eat. The 
 second breakfast was just being served, which we thought fortunate 
 until we had finished, when I said, 
 
 "Dear Heart, I never had as mean a breakfast, except the one 
 at Chinese Camp after our all night ride in a stage coach through the 
 mountains of California." 
 
 Outside the hotel a crowd of beggars were lying in wait for us, 
 and heading the procession we went to the Cathedral, its beautiful 
 facade so built around by shabby houses that it was practically hidden 
 from view. The interior was splendid indeed! The towering columns, 
 the glorious windows that for six centuries had glowed and gleamed 
 like precious stones ; the wonderful wood carving of the choir stalls 
 representing scenes in the Conquest of Granada with spirited horses 
 under high-peaked saddles, their life-like riders carrying the arms, 
 and clad in the armor of their period. Over this work of art an ala- 
 baster canopy upheld by columns of jasper. There were beautifully 
 decorated chapels, bronze tombs, alabaster monuments, paintings by 
 the great Masters of Spain on backgrounds of gold, and two immense 
 organs. A splendid old Cathedral! that Cathedral in Toledo! 
 
 With the beggars we went to the Puerta del Sol; in Toledo not 
 only a name but a noble structure with massive turrets and a grace- 
 ful horseshoe archway. The famous Alcazar was undergoing repairs, 
 and closed. 
 
 We were curious to see the quaint old town, of which we had 
 often read, with its white-washed walls, and tall, white-washed houses 
 built on narrow streets. Narrow streets indeed they were! some 
 actually so narrow that with j^our arms outstretched you could touch 
 with your finger tips both sides at once. 
 
 In those narrow, crooked streets the beggars had every advant- 
 age. They would tweak at our coat sleeves, at the skirt of your coat 
 and at my dress. A horrid lot, believing in the evil eye, the — 
 mal de ojo — and making the sign of the corni, to avert the evil 
 consequences, that a glance from either of us might give them. They 
 surrounded us, and completely destroyed our comfort and pleasure. 
 How we did want to look at those wonderful old houses undisturbed ! 
 the huge doors thickly studded with nail heads, knockers of the most 
 
 Page One Hundred Nine 
 
«nini»niiniiniininHiiHiiiiiiiHHiiiii»iiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiMiijnMHmiiimnHnnnniiHninniniimimiim>HimnHmHimtii«HnmmHnimwniHimMHitwMimtwtniiininmiiniini n nimiw 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 uMniiiiiuiiiiHiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiuHiitniiiiinniiiiiininMtinMiiminHiiimimmnimHNHiHHiiiitHiiimmiuMMHiuHHuiHHmiiiiHuiHimiiHiiiMminiiHiitMiiNuiiiiHtiiiiiHi^ 
 
 grotesque and varied design; the endless array of bolts and chains, 
 and the few windows in the tall, dark, gloomy facades protected by 
 gratings of heavy iron bars. Above the doors were medallions, or 
 Angels, or a group of Saints, or chiselled escutcheons centuries past 
 the pride of the families that dwelt within. 
 
 We stopped at a shop window to look at the famous Toledo 
 blades, but persistent, repulsive beggars thrust themselves between us 
 and what we wanted to see. 
 
 "I wish I had the evil eye they fear, I would annihilate every 
 one of them," said I savagely. 
 
 We gave up trying to see anything more and walked rapidly 
 down the hill. One by one the wretched beggars dropped off, and 
 before we reached the long Alcantara bridge we were free. We were 
 enjoying the beautiful view that Toledo presents from below, when 
 about midway on the bridge we came upon a scrap of a boy seated 
 on the parapet and looking towards the town. He had large, dreamy, 
 lustrous, hazel eyes heavily fringed with long lashes, and dark curling 
 hair fell beneath his badly worn straw hat. 
 
 "What a lovely child!" said I, as we were passing. 
 
 Then you stopped, and I stopped, you saying, 
 
 "Good Morning to you, little man," raising your hat. 
 
 "Good Morning to you, Senor," said the little man taking off his 
 hat and holding it in his hand. 
 
 "What is your name?" 
 
 "Benito Lopez, Senor." 
 
 "How old are you?" 
 
 "I have seven years, Senor." 
 
 "Do you know what is the largest city in all the World?" 
 
 "Si Senor, Toledo." 
 
 "And what is the largest river in all the World?" 
 
 "El Tagus, Senor." 
 
 Then you told him to hold out his hand. The beggars had. all 
 the copper coins and you put a piece of silver in his pahn. 
 
 "Now who is the richest boy in Toledo?" 
 
 When he saw the money his lovely eyes danced with joy and 
 with a charming smile he answered, 
 
 "Benito Lopez, Senor." 
 
 He looked again at the silver piece, closed his hand firmly upon 
 it, jumped down from the parapet and ran towards the city as fast as 
 
 Page One Hundred Ten 
 
wmttiMitiniiiiiniiiiniiitMiMniniiiiiitMHMiiiiimiiiiiinHnininmiimiiiimNmmnminimiiiit»niHinnH»iiHmimiiiiniiiiiiiiiitnHtiiHmtiiniitiiiniiimnimiMnimiiiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 •miHiiiiiMiiiiiiHtiiiMMuiiiiiiniiMiiiiininMiininiiinniiHHiiimHiiiiiiiniHtiimmNHiiHinriiiiHiiimiittHiiiiiHiminHuiHiiHuiHiHuiiHiHMiinimH«HnHiiHiiiHiHMiiMiiiMi^ 
 
 his little brown, bare legs could carry him. When he reached the end 
 of the bridge, he turned, looked at us, then scampered away again, 
 and once in the winding streets was soon lost to sight. How we did 
 speculate as to the reason for that boy's conduct. Did he remember 
 tales he had heard of the evil eye? Was he afraid the money would 
 be taken from him? Did he want to carry it to his mother? or show 
 it to his companions? or buy something at a shop? We could only 
 guess, and keep guessing but that boy was always a living memory, 
 more vivid than anything we saw in the desolate city where he lived. 
 
 The short walk from the bridge to the railroad station was 
 dusty and disagreeable. We met two of the remarkable looking 
 carts we had seen on the highway. Built very high with two clumsy 
 wheels made from simple discs of wood, without a tire of any kind, 
 drawn by small brown oxen, the yoke fastened to their horns, and 
 drawn over their heads sheep or goat skins. And the noise those 
 carts made! They creaked and groaned and shrieked as so many 
 living things! making their way slowly along, enveloped in a cloud 
 of dust. There was no picturesqueness in the drivers; they and the 
 oxen belonged to the soil, and the unromantic side of life! 
 
 Aranjuez, well watered by the river Tagus was an oasis in a 
 barren plateau. For centuries it was the summer residence of the 
 Spanish Court. There were miles of Royal Park, with grand, old 
 Cedars of Lebanon, gardens and fountains; but Royalty had aban- 
 doned Aranjuez, and the fountains were without water, and the 
 gardens uncared for. There were three Palaces, and as we had time 
 to waste, we looked through each. In the smallest, the Casa del Lab- 
 rador — the laborer's house — we found most of interest. We counted 
 fifty clocks in the Palace, often a half dozen in one room. As you 
 had a passion for clocks, you enjoyed the collection immensely. 
 Mam^ were musical clocks that played tunes and airs from Operas, 
 and there were exquisitely made mechanical birds that sang in a most 
 natural and wonderful way. 
 
 The best and fastest trains in Spain were invariably run at night, 
 and we were to take a train at midnight on the main line of railway 
 between Madrid and the South. 
 
 A Spanish gentleman whom we met in Madrid told us if we 
 wanted a good dinner at Aranjuez, to go to the Fonda de Paris, and 
 there we went. A large, handsome house, and a waiter all smiles 
 took us in charge. All through the dinner the waiter was constantly 
 suggesting something. 
 
 Page One Hundred Eleven 
 
iimMuniitMtiniMriiiiiiiiiitiiiniiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiniiniiiniiiiiiiiiitiiinimnininnHniiiiiiiininiiiitHiiMinniiiiiiniiiiuiiHnniiiiniitMiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriHiiiiiniiiiiniiiiiinn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aiiiniiuininiiiniiiiinuiininiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiHiiiimiiiiiliiililliilliiiiiiilliiiiiiiiiiiuiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiuiMiiiiiiiiinMiHiniuniiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiinniii^ 
 
 "Had the Senor ever tasted the ham of Aranjuez? it was so 
 excellent. 
 
 "Yes, the Senor would try some. 
 
 "And the cherries of Aranjuez that were so famous! Could 
 he not bring some to the Senor and Senora? 
 
 "Yes we would try the cherries of Aranjuez. 
 
 Encouraged, he soon began to bring things he had not even 
 suggested, that the Senor might merely taste them. 
 
 At last the dinner was finished and the waiter made out the bill. 
 It was a long one and at the bottom were the figures "43 pesetas." 
 Eight dollars and sixty cents. 
 
 You told the waiter to send you the propietario. 
 
 "Certeza Senor," and he started off with such alacrity that 
 you called him back saying to me, "better settle with one rascal than 
 two." 
 
 Then with the waiter you went over the bill. The dinner you 
 had ordered including the wine was three dollars. The ham and the 
 cherries were charged one dollar each, leaving three dollars and a half 
 for the sweet things — dulces — ^that the Spaniards are so fond of. 
 
 You paid the bill, putting aside a small fee for the waiter, who 
 said, 
 
 "Oh, Senor, after such a good dinner!" 
 
 You added something to it, saying in English, "You are an 
 extortionate rascal!" and he, 
 
 "I do not understand the Senor — if the Senor would be kind 
 enough to tell me in Spanish — the Senor speaks so well the Spanish. 
 
 With a "Vaya usted con Dios" to the Senor and the Senora, and 
 the same bland smiles with which we had been welcomed, he bowed 
 us out. 
 
 As we walked to the station you said, "What a rascal that 
 waiter was! Will the Senor try this? and may I bring the Senor 
 some of that? Just to taste it Senor!" 
 
 "And the Senora often warned you," said I. 
 
 "Yes, and I should have taken her advice," you answered, "but 
 it was a good dinner." 
 
 Soon your annoyance vanished and we were laughing over the 
 experience, I saying we would save the amount in some other way; 
 you that we would put it down to the loss account and forget it. 
 
 The train came along so crowded that the Guard had difficulty 
 
 Page One Hundred Twelve 
 
iiiiiMnniiiinHniniMiiiiiiiinniiiMnMiiiiiiiiinniiiininiiiiimiiiiiiHiiiiiiiniiiMiiiMiiiiniHiniiiHHnnimuiiiiMtnuiiiiiinrKiiiiiiiiiuiiiiniHiitiiMiuriiiiitiiiiiinrtiininiu 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 imiiiHiiiniiniinniiriniiniMiiiMMtimmiiiiiriniiiriiiiiiinitiiiiiniiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiniiniiimiiiiiiiiiinnuiimiimitiiiiiiiiiiininmnntiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiimH^ 
 
 in finding two seats in the same compartment. An hour or so later 
 you asked, "Are you awake?" When I answered, "Very much so," 
 you said, "We are crossing the plain of La Mancha." Peering out 
 we saw a wind-swept desolate-looking region, and the gaunt arms 
 of an occasional windmill such as the "doughty Knight" Don Quixote 
 was wont to tilt against. 
 
 It was a most uncomfortable night, and we were glad when 
 morning dawned, — we were just then going over the summit of the 
 Sierra Morena Mountains, and until we reached Cordova at two in 
 the afternoon, we had a succession of charming views embracing the 
 fertile plain below. Green fields, attractive homes, feathery branches 
 of palms, olive and orange groves, — a pretty feature being the 
 orchards surrounded by hedges of cactus abloom in colors of yellow, 
 blue and crimson. 
 
 It seemed like another World, this beautiful land of Andalusia! 
 Women were at the stations, with jars of water on their heads, — 
 you had one of them fill your traveling cup, the water was deliciously 
 cool, the price a grano, and when you gave her five — one cent — she 
 was greatly pleased. 
 
 At Cordova we went to the Fonda Suiza, a house that must have 
 been built in the City's palmy days. A patio, with tesselated pave- 
 ment, a fountain and orange trees. A beautiful marble stair-case, 
 and at each landing mosaics of attractive and varied design. 
 
 With the exception of a cup of coif ee and a bit of bread, we 
 had eaten nothing since our famous Aranjuez dinner, and hungry 
 as two bears, we sat down to a comfortable meal, provided for us by 
 the kind, obliging landlord himself, he explaining that los serviente 
 were all off duty. While we were disposing of a generous dish of 
 puchero, he made an excellent salad, which he brought with cheese, 
 followed by dulces in great variety. 
 
 Thus reinforced, with full directions how to find our way, we 
 started for the Mosque. The kind propietario having no one to send 
 with us offered to go himself, but you assured him that was not 
 necessary. 
 
 Over a rough, pebbly pavement, through alleys of high white- 
 washed houses, and blank whitewashed walls, alleys so crooked and 
 winding, so twisted and turning that in spite of your good bump of 
 locality, you were soon all at sea ! The streets were deserted save for 
 an occasional beggar, and one of these, young and able bodied, you 
 were glad to employ, and found to your great disgust that one more 
 
 Page One Hundred Thirteen 
 
iiiiiiiiniimmiiMititininMnniiniiiiiiiinininiiHtuiuiiHunniiiniiiiiniiiiiiiiuninHiinniiininniMniiiHinniiiiniiniiiiiiniiiiMiiiiniiniiniiniiiHiinnninuiMniMinnHiiMiiiniiiiMiitniHM 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 jiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiMniiinniiiiiiiiiiitiiiminiiiiiMUMiHniMiiiiniiinMiiiinHNinMininiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiniiiHitiiiiiiinMuinuiiniiiiiiiiiriiniiiiiiiiiinininiMiiiiiHiiiiiiiin 
 
 turn in the direction you were constantly pursuing would have 
 brought us to our goal. 
 
 Through a beautiful Moorish archway we went into the large and 
 magnificent Court of the Oranges where the life of the city seemed to 
 be. Under the palms, the orange trees centuries old, and tall 
 cypress trees, men were playing cards, and noisy children were at their 
 games, — fountains were splashing and birds singing. It was a lovely 
 spot to linger in and enjoy, but the army of beggars were upon us 
 in an instant. The children left their play to beg in shrill, whining 
 voices, "Por amor de Dios." They all knew that visitors only went 
 to Cordova to see the Mosque, and there, at the entrance they waited 
 for them. 
 
 The perspective of the avenues of columns upon entering the 
 Mosque was positively bewildering — twenty-nine aisles in one direc- 
 tion and nineteen in the other. One thousand columns of jasper, 
 verd-antique, porphyry, and marble of bright and varying color; 
 red, yellow, black, green and blue, gathered together from all parts 
 of the World! The columns varied in size and style — plain, carved, 
 fluted and twisted, also the capitals with which they were adorned. 
 A double row of horseshoe arches in red and black rested upon the 
 columns and upheld the wooden roof of red and gold. Several of 
 the columns had grooves in which bands of iron had been fitted, 
 supposedly to bear the chains of captives. 
 
 The Custodian of the Mosque was a pleasant elderly man. He 
 did not talk except to answer questions, and give information. 
 
 You asked for the column with a cross on it, said to have been 
 done by the finger nails of a Christian prisoner chained to the spot. 
 Pointing it out, he shrugged his shoulders, saying, "It could not be 
 so, since a Christian was never allowed to enter a Mosque." [Here 
 let me say that you first learned to talk in Spanish, and much of your 
 early childhood was spent with your parents in Spanish countries. 
 What you then learned soon came back to you. Everything that 
 was said you understood, and you spoke with considerable fluency, a 
 fact that added greatly to our enjoyment, as it was unusual to find a 
 Spaniard speaking any language but his own.] 
 
 When it was time to close the Mosque we all went out together. 
 We were glad to have the company of the Custodian, who lived near 
 our hotel, and saved us from the beggars. We climbed to the top of 
 the Moorish bell tower for the view, and enjoyed the fountains and 
 fragrance of the delightful Court of Oranges. 
 
 Not far from the Mosque, the broad, swiftly-flowing Guad- 
 
 Page One Hundred Fourteen 
 
ininiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiinHiiiiHiiHiiiiiiiiiiniHiiiimiiniitiiiniMiininiinniiniinHninniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiniiiiiiiiwiuiMiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiininuiiHiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 4iiMnMiiiiiHiiiuiiiiinininiiiriiiiiiiniiMHiinMniHiiiMiUMiiHiiuiiiiinnMuiMMininMMnMnniMiiiinuiiinininiiiiiniiiUMnnniiiHniiiiiiinniiininiininnnuiuiiiiuiuiiiMiiiiHMiiiiim 
 
 alquiver river was crossed by an old Bridge, built by the Romans and 
 reconstructed by the Moors. At one end was an orange-red, battle- 
 mented picturesque tower, with a fine, large gateway, through which 
 (as we were looking at it) two girls riding donkeys appeared, making 
 a very pretty picture. 
 
 Coming in from an after-dinner stroll, we saw a Sereno near the 
 hotel, wrapped in his long cloak, with a spear on which hung his 
 lantern. At my request you asked the landlord if the Serenos still 
 called out the hours in Cordova? Hearing they did, I exclaimed, 
 
 "How perfectly delightful and romantic. Dear Heart! to be in 
 Spain and hear a Sereno call out the hours of night, and tell us what 
 the weather is." 
 
 We were much fatigued and retired early — you to sleep, and I 
 to listen to the Sereno. 
 
 He seemed to have stationed himself directly beneath our win- 
 dow. Soon in a slow, chanting, rather musical voice, I heard the 
 words, "Son las diez" — a long pause, and then — "tiempo sereno." 
 
 I wondered how any one could sleep when they might listen to a 
 Sereno! A long hour passed. "Son las once" — pause — "tiempo 
 sereno." 
 
 Then I began to wish the Sereno would go away and let me 
 sleep. It was surely more than an hour since I heard his voice. 
 
 I was dropping off, when I was roused by "Son las doce" — 
 pause — "tiempo sereno." Midnight, no sleep and hard work in store 
 for the day. I dreaded to hear that hateful voice again, but I did. 
 "Es la una" — "tiempo sereno." 
 
 Whether the wretch went away, or whether tired Nature asserted 
 herself I do not know, but I fell asleep. In the morning you asked if 
 I had heard the Sereno through the night. 
 
 "Yes I heard the Sereno" I answered, and thought of getting up 
 and asking the landlord to gag him or lock him up in the cellar. 
 
 "What! that delightful, romantic Sereno!" you said with a 
 laugh. "How can you be so fickle?" 
 
 After breakfast we went to the Mosque and looked at the beauti- 
 ful Moorish Chapels. In one the Koran had been kept. It had a 
 roof carved like a delicate shell from a single piece of snow white 
 marble. Adjoining was a Praying Chapel, the walls and dome bril- 
 liant with gilding, arabesques and mosaics. 
 
 In this unique edifice. Christian zeal had built a Cathedral. A 
 beautiful structure, but we could only think of the five hundred 
 
 Page One Hundred Fifteen 
 
«iuiuiMi>iiHi(iMHiiiHHinnntiiiHnniMiiiiiiiiNiiiiHiiHiuiiiiMiHHiMHiHiminiwuHmiimiiHniHniiHtimiHmHi»iMHiHMiminmHiHi(MNinNHMNimmimmHHmu^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 JIIIIMIIIIHinimilllUHIMIIIinilMIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIiniHIUIUIHIIIIUIMIHmHHUIIIWNtHMWIHtUIUUWIIWHIlniUUmiim(IW(HUHmHIU»IUIWWWUUHHimlUIUUUHmHI^ 
 
 columns that had been removed to make way for it. We wandered 
 in and out of those wonderful avenues until it was time to say good- 
 by to the Mosque and the friendly custodian. 
 
 In reply to a question, he said, yes he had often thought of try- 
 ing his fortune elsewhere, but he had married young, and soon, there 
 were too many children to leave, and too many to carry away, and so 
 the time had passed. All his sons had left Cordova and were doing 
 well. Gracias a Dios. 
 
 We left Cordova at two o'clock, and until we reached Seville 
 three hours later, we rode through a succession of orchards — orange, 
 lemon, fig, almond and pomegranite. Many of the trees were in 
 blossom on both sides of the road and the banks were ablaze with wild 
 flowers. In wide meadows herds of bulls were feeding. They looked 
 so peaceful and contented in their delightful surroundings, but every 
 one was doomed to be tormented and tortured, and die in the bull 
 ring. Men were at work in the orchards, under broad-brimmed hats, 
 with crimson sashes showing beneath their short jackets and pretty 
 homes were scattered about. It was a beautiful picture of peace, 
 plenty and prosperity, grateful and refreshing to the senses. 
 
 We were glad to have seen Toledo and Cordova and the inter- 
 esting things they contained but should never wish to visit them 
 again; they were so forlorn and desolate! You spoke of Rome and 
 Florence and Venice; of so many medieval cities that belonged to 
 the present, as well as the past; but these Spanish cities seemed to 
 belong only to the centuries that were gone. Toledo, in the midst 
 of a barren country, what could ever galvanize her into life? but 
 Cordova, must in time feel the effect of the rich and fertile country 
 around her! 
 
 And then we came in sight of Seville — the Cathedral and 
 Giraldo, and soon we were at the Fonda de Madrid. While you were 
 at the office arranging for a room, I took a survey of the charming 
 house. A succession of courts, opening one into another — tessel- 
 lated pavements, fountains, marble columns with galleries above, 
 palm, orange and banana trees, and an immense dining room, the 
 walls tiled with soft, pretty colors; surely "our lines had fallen in 
 pleasant places," I was saying to myself, when you joined me. 
 
 There was but one room vacant in the house, and we went to 
 look at it. Such a room! small, shabby and dismal beyond words! 
 and the price, six dollars a day each! Twelve dollars a day, for that 
 hole of a room! You said it would not do — ^you must look further. 
 
 As we were turning away, a gentleman who had heard the con- 
 
 Page One Hundred Sixteen 
 
«miiimniiiniMtiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiniiiMiiiiiiiiiuiiNiiiii(iiiiiiiiiiiiininiiiniiiiiiHnimiiimmiiNiiniiiiuimnmiiiiHuininniiHiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiuiinitini^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 ininniiiiiiiiiiniiMiiiiiHiniiiiiiiHiiiiiiiHiniiiiiininiuiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiniiUiiHiiniiMtNiiiiiHiHiiHiiHMiiiiinniiiiiiuHiwHnHMiininiiiiiintiiiitininniiiiiiiiiiiiiinniiinniiii^ 
 
 versation came from an adjoining room, and told you, it would be 
 useless to look further — that he had just been through the experi- 
 ence of trying at other hotels, and had returned, to take for himself 
 and wife a room corresponding to the one offered us. 
 
 In Spain at that time a pleasant, comfortable room, at a first 
 class hotel on the American plan was three dollars a day for each 
 person, but this was Holy Week, and after Holy Week came the 
 great Fair to which people flocked from all parts of Spain, and prices 
 for accomodations were doubled or trebled according to the conscience 
 of the landlord, and the ability of the applicant to pay. I was dis- 
 gusted but you, my dearly beloved Philosopher, said, 
 
 "We shall only sleep in the room, and our stay will be short," so 
 our traps were sent up, and we were soon in the street. 
 
 Not far away was the Cathedral, an immense structure, soft 
 reddish-brown in color, standing on a raised platform, girdled with 
 double columns, many beautifully sculptured doors, and numerous 
 pinnacles and towers rising from the open-work parapet of the roof. 
 
 And the Giralda, the lovely Moorish bell tower! delicately pink, 
 the lower part unadorned; above, charming windows and graceful 
 balconies, marble panels of arabesques, and traceries of exquisite 
 Moorish work. A cornice delicate as lace around the belfrey, where 
 hung thirty-five musical bells, — several cupolas rising one above an- 
 other in ever diminishing size, until at a height of over 300 feet the 
 lovely creation was crowned by a bronze statue of Faith, a helmet 
 upon her head, in one hand a banner, in the other an olive branch; 
 fifteen feet in height, weighing twenty-eight hundred pounds, yet so 
 delicately poised that it turned with the lightest breath of air, and 
 silhouetted against the deep blue of the sky was always a delightful 
 object to look upon. 
 
 We took a few turns around the Court of the Oranges, inhaling 
 deep breaths of the blossom laden air, looked at the old fountain and 
 basin where the Musselmen washed before going into the Mosque, 
 and where now men and women were filling their water jars, and 
 then away to see what we could of the streets before the seven o'clock 
 dinner, and what a delight those Sevillian patios were to us! We 
 would only stand a moment before any particular grille, but we 
 wandered from one patio to another taking in some detail at each 
 until our composite picture was complete. 
 
 A court in the center of the building, open to the air and sky, and 
 separated from the street by a vestibule and an artistic gateway of 
 gilded bronze or wrought iron. Running around three sides, an orna- 
 
 Page One Hundred Seventeen 
 
'niMiMiiiiiniiMiiiinniiiiiMniiniiinnuiiiinMiiniMiiniiiiiiriiriiiiniiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHriiiuniiiitiiiiiiiiiiMiiHnMJrMniiiiniiiiiiniiHiiHiriHiiiniiiiiiiiiiiniiniiHiitiiMnniinniiiM 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 .niiiiiiiiiiiiiiMniinniiiiiiuniniiiiiirniiMiiMnnnnuiniinHuininiMiiiiniiiiiiiHiniiiiiiiiiHiiinHHUiNniiiHniiiiHiiiiiiininiiniHiiiiiiMiiMiunHniiiiiiiiiiiininiiHininniimiH^ 
 
 mental gallery, supported by slender marble pillars and Moorish 
 arches. The gallery gave access to the rooms above, and was reached 
 by a marble staircase. The pavement was tesselated in artistic pat- 
 terns, and in the center, a fountain shot its waters into the air, and a 
 large ornamental basin received them when they fell. Bright and 
 fragrant with flowers, furnished with rugs, wicker chairs and sofas, a 
 piano, mandolins, guitars and childrens' toys, and birds singing in 
 gilded cages. 
 
 During the heat of the day a soft colored awning cloth was 
 stretched over the entire court, and in these living rooms, these 
 heavenly patios, ladies, and children of all ages, beautifully dressed, 
 were enjoying their every day home life, and many a charming family 
 picture we saw. 
 
 Sitting down for dinner you remarked on the attractiveness 
 of the room, — the tiled walls, the arabesques, the Moorish arches 
 and beautiful ceilings; and then our attention turned to a party 
 of six taking their places opposite us. A large, fine looking but 
 rather coarse, middle aged woman, four young women and a young 
 man. Of the relationship between them we were not long in doubt, 
 two of the girls and the young man calling the older woman Madre, 
 and the two other girls, Tia or Tia Teresa. The young ladies were 
 all pretty, the daughters particularly so, with glorious eyes, fringed 
 by long lashes. They were a lively party, talking and laughing 
 continuously. 
 
 They stared at us and discussed us with the greatest freedom. I 
 asked you what they were saying. You answered that they were 
 divided in opinion as to whether we were English or American. 
 
 "Yes," I said, "I understand that, but what else?" 
 
 "They are wondering where we come from," then you laughed, 
 "now they are making complimentary remarks about our appearance, 
 — now they are discussing your hair, which they all think very 
 pretty." 
 
 The mother had a slight cold, or a habit, and frequently during 
 the dinner took out her handkerchief and blew her nose with the 
 sound of a trumpet. 
 
 As at Madrid the men smoked between every course, and after 
 the dinner was over, our vis-a-vis produced a beautiful box, out of 
 which each girl took a cigarette and a tiny gold pincers, — one end of 
 a delicate chain was attached to the pincers and to the other end a 
 ring which was worn on the little finger, — all the girls smoked their 
 one cigarette held by the little pincers in a dainty, pretty, graceful 
 
 Page One Hundred Eighteen 
 
iiiiiiHiiiiMiiuiiiiinHnrnniunnniiinniiuiiiiMiNiiiinHiiMiniinniiiiiriiuininiiiiiiJiirMiriiiiHnNiiinniiinniiininiiirnnHiHiniinniiiiiiNininiunniiMiiinHiiniiiMiiiininitiiiimin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aiNiiiMuiiiuiiMiiiiiuiMMnuMiniiNiiiniMiininiuiiiiHiijiniHiMiHiiiiiiiiinMiuiiiniiiitniiiniiiiiNiMMiHniin(iiiiniuMininininiMnnHiiniriitHiniiinHMiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiHiiiiinninnin^ 
 
 way; but the mother! oh the mother! The number of cigarettes she 
 smoked! and the way she smoked them! taking in the smoke in a 
 long deep breath, and expeUing it slowly from her nose. 
 
 "It is worth the price of the room," said I, clasping your hand 
 under the table. 
 
 We went to the court for coffee and your one-a-day cigar. That 
 finished, we strolled through the crowded streets, looked at the shop 
 windows, and the people, but it was peeping into the patios that 
 fascinated us most. The light from many soft colored lamps hang- 
 ing from the galleries made them look more than ever like fairyland, 
 and the presence of gentlemen added to the liveliness. Smoking, 
 singing and dancing were going on in all. Young men thrumming 
 guitars were lounging in the streets and paying visits. We saw 
 several groups of two or three, enter a vestibule, play and sing, and 
 when heard and recognized, one of the gates would open and every 
 one in the patio greet them warmly. As the night wore on the ani- 
 mation increased and it was nearing midnight when we turned to- 
 wards the hotel. 
 
 On the morning of Holy Thursday we went to the Cathedral. 
 The vast interior was but dimly lighted by the one hundred windows 
 of old stained glass. Groups of enormous columns supported the 
 arches of the vaulted roofs. Two immense organs with pipes so 
 gigantic that they were compared to the columns of Fingal's Cave. 
 On the choir stalls elaborate wood carving of men and grotesque 
 animals. Chapels filled with tombs and statues in wood, marble, silver 
 and crystal ; among the pictures were two by Murillo of great beauty, 
 and in the Sacristy, Murillo at his own request was buried. 
 
 In the Royal Chapel lay St. Ferdinand, canonized — it was said — 
 because with his own hands he had carried wood and heaped it upon 
 the flames where heretics were burning. His war horse was there, and 
 a remarkable image — the Divinity of the Chapel, with hair of spun 
 gold, sapphires forming the pupils of her eyes, a long mantle of cloth 
 of gold, and at her feet a carved silver carcophagus in which St. 
 Ferdinand reposed. 
 
 In this Chapel, the walls, and pillars supporting the dome were 
 hidden beneath hangings of brocade richly embroidered with gold; 
 and there had been erected a wonderful creation in which, the previ- 
 ous day, the Host — called in Spain Su Majestad — had been placed. 
 It was a tapering temple, white and gold, with pinnacles topped by 
 Apostles and Saints in silver, and ablaze from top to bottom with the 
 light of hundreds of silver and jeweUed lamps, and a multitude of. 
 
 Page One Hundred Nineteen 
 
iiiMHNHiwiuiiuimiiiininninHiniuniiitiiiiinMinmiiiiiiiiuniniiiiniiniHiiiinMiiiuiimiuMiiHnimimiiiiiinriiiiHMiiiiniiiHMMHHmiiiiiiiiiiuHirmm 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 AiiiniiitiiHiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiniiiiiinHuiiiinuiiinniiiiiiiiiHiiHiiiiiiiHiniiinimiiniiinuiHiiiiHniniiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiHiiiiHiiiiitiiiiiuiMiiiiHHnMiHiiiiiiniiiMuiH 
 
 tapers. Before this monument kneeling for a moment, a constant 
 stream of people were coming and going. 
 
 Turning from the Chapel we saw the Archbishop in purple robe, 
 a mitre on his head, the crozier and cross borne before him, just leav- 
 ing the Cathedral and followed by the twelve beggars representing 
 the Apostles, whose feet he had washed. The lucky twelve wore new 
 clothes and smiling faces and were to have a mid-day meal in the 
 Archbishop's Palace. 
 
 Early in the afternoon of Holy Thursday the pasos began to 
 appear, in large numbers on the streets. The pasos are the great 
 feature of the religious ceremonies in Seville during Holy Week. 
 They belong to the different Brotherhoods of the churches, and the 
 guilds, — the cigarette makers, the olive and fruit industries, silver 
 smiths, bull fighters, and others. The bull fighters had the reputation 
 of being not only deeply religious, but very domestic, making the 
 most exemplary husbands and fathers. 
 
 Great rivalry existed between the different societies for the best 
 paso. Money was lavishly spent, and often historical facts and ap- 
 propriateness, completely lost sight of. A few were tawdry, many 
 fine, and many splendid. They consisted of life size wooden figures 
 clothed according to the fancy and means of the Brotherhood to 
 which they belonged, and represented the Virgin Mary, and scenes 
 in the life and death of Christ. The faces were tinted, and the heads 
 that were uncovered had an abundant supply of real hair. Some of 
 ihe figures were made by Montanes, a famous Sevillian sculptor, in 
 the 17th century and were very valuable. These, and many others, 
 had wonderful expression in their faces. The figures, single or in 
 groups, were placed upon a platform covered by black velvet that 
 hung to the ground, and carried on the shoulders of men, hidden 
 from view, the number varying from ten to thirty, according to the 
 weight they bore. Each paso was accompanied by the Brotherhood 
 to which it belonged, robed in great variety of picturesque costume 
 and carrying candles that were lighted while it was still day, — at the 
 beginning of the march the large candles were so tall that when the 
 procession halted and they were rested upon the ground they reached 
 to the bearer's shoulders. 
 
 Commencing with the afternoon of Holy Thursday all through 
 that night and all day on Friday the great pageant had complete 
 possession of the City, and during that time no vehicle of any kind 
 was allowed upon the streets and no bell permitted to ring. 
 
 From all over the City the pasos came. The line of march was 
 
 Page One Hundred Twenty 
 
wmiHtiiMitiMiHiiniiniiniuniiiinniiiiHMiniiiniiniiuiiiiiHiMiiiiiiiiiuiiinininimimnnnnnunHHuiiHiMniiiniiiiiiiniiwiiiniiiMiiHiiiiiMiiiuiitHiHHHHiHHiitiHiniiiiiiini 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 jniMiuiNniMiniiMuiiiiinniiniiMMiiniinniiiiiMiHniiiiniiinniiiiiiuiiiiiiinittiuiiintmiiHiiMniiiimiMuuuniiiiiMiiininniiimiiiimiitiiuiiiiminiiiHiiHiiiniinii^ 
 
 through squares where seats had been erected, past the City Hall 
 where the Mayor — Alcade — sat, through the Cathedral to salute the 
 Host, then back to their respective homes to disband, — ^long weary 
 Hnes of march many of them must have had. 
 
 About three o'clock we heard a blare of trumpets and strains of 
 music and soon the procession came in sight, — a troop of cavalry in 
 brilliant uniforms, mounted on beautiful white horses with gay trap- 
 pings, Roman soldiers in shining armor, waving plumes upon their 
 helmets, spears, and standards with the letters S. P. Q. R. glittering 
 in the sun. 
 
 The first paso was the Virgin, the face was full of beauty and 
 tenderness, — a crown set with precious stones rested on the head and 
 flowing golden hair, — exquisite lace formed all the front of her 
 robe, and from the shoulders fell a long train of black velvet em- 
 broidered with golden lilies, upheld by two lovely children beautifully 
 dressed, — around her throat were strings of pearls, — ^many jewels 
 sparkled from her corsage, from rings upon her fingers and from 
 bracelets upon her wrists, — her attendants were boys dressed in white, 
 swinging censers of burning incense, and white robed choristers 
 chanting with clear, strong, young voices, — the platform was lighted 
 by many tapers, and loaded with fragrant flowers. 
 
 Next came a tableau of Christ before Pilate. Pilate seated on a 
 throne, splendidly attired and wearing costly gems, — Christ a pris- 
 oner, surrounded by a guard of Roman soldiers. A most eff*ective 
 tableau. The attendant Brotherhood were Roman soldiers in scarlet 
 tunics, white plumed helmets, and silver shields. The float was so 
 heavy that the men could only carry it a hundred feet, and would then 
 take a rest. Impatient at the snail's pace of the procession, impatient 
 also to see the diff*erent pasos we left our seats, mingled with the 
 crowd and made our way slowly along the line. 
 
 All the story of the Passion over and over again, — often passing 
 with solemn music, muffled drums or blare of trumpets. The pasos 
 of Christ bearing the cross were often remarkable. In one the cross 
 was tortoise shell and silver, in another ebony and gold. 
 
 There were many floats of great simplicity and tenderness show- 
 ing the Virgin in a robe and mantle of tender blue, with fair hair 
 falling over her shoulders, as Murillo painted her in his Immaculate 
 Conceptions. 
 
 Simplicity however was not a characteristic of the Virgin, — most 
 of them were elaborately dressed wearing long mantles costing thou- 
 sands of dollars and sparkling with jewelry and precious stones. 
 
 Page One Hundred Twenty-one 
 
4HniiiiiiiiHiiwruiniiiiiiiMiiMiitinitiiMriiinruiiMnriiiiHntiniiriiiHHmnininininiiiiiiiiMniiiMriiiiniiiiniiniiniiHMiiniiiiiunniiHHimiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiniiiiiiiMHuiniiininiHiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 »niimiiiiuniiniiiiMuniiiiiiiinniininiiiniiMnriiiniiMiiHnnniitiiniiiiiHiiiiiuiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiniiiiiuiinniiiHiuiMtriiinniiinnmniniiHniiHiiiiniiiiiiiHiiinH 
 
 Some wore the priceless jewels of the mothers and wives of a par- 
 ticular Brotherhood loaned for the occasion and watched over by a 
 detachment of the Civil Guard. The societies that could not afford 
 beautiful clothing and costly jewelry tricked their Virgins out in 
 gaudy imitation of the genuine; but there were always the flowers 
 and lights — the cloud of incense and music, and borne before her a 
 banner with the title of what she represented to the Brotherhood. Our 
 Lady of Refuge — of Mercy — of Hope — of Tears — of Solitude — of 
 Victory were the names most often accorded her. 
 
 The bull fighters' yaso represented a plain crucifixion and the 
 Virgin, simply dressed in white, under a canopy of black velvet em- 
 broidered with gold. The Brotherhood wore small black velvet caps, 
 black velvet robes, and broad yellow belts gleaming with gold thread. 
 
 After dinner we went to the Cathedral where we found a great 
 throng, to hear Eslava's miserere. The music was beautiful. Rendered 
 by trained voices of men and boys, a full orchestra, and the rich 
 tones of the two organs. 
 
 "That was a rare treat," you said, when it was over. 
 
 The procession of pasos, lighted up by candles and torches, mov- 
 ing weirdly through the dim aisles, rested while the miserere was 
 being sung and then again took up the line of march. 
 
 All through the night of Holy Thursday the procession marched. 
 The streets were thronged with people, and the seats in the plazas 
 occupied. We sat until after midnight watching the unique spectacle. 
 There was no moon, only starlight overhead, and defects, bared by 
 the light of day were hidden. All gems were real and all stones 
 precious, in that pageant of Holy Thursday night. The burning 
 candles and tapers and torches, the flowers, the banners, the music, — 
 the slowly moving figures — the Virgin ablaze with glittering gems, 
 the pathetic face of the Saviour, — ^the mail-clad Roman soldiers, the 
 caps and tunics of blue, scarlet and purple, the white plumed helmets, 
 the spears, the shields of gold and silver, all blended into a memory 
 that has never faded away. 
 
 When we left our seats about one o'clock we found about the 
 stand, pots of boiling oil in which long strips of twisted, sweetened 
 dough were being fried. 
 
 "Crullers, my Dear," said I, "they are really crullers." although 
 they were being cried out as "calientes, calientes." The men and 
 women about the pots were doing a thriving business and we had to 
 wait our turn; then with a caliente in each hand we walked to the 
 
 Page One Hundred Twenty-two 
 
iHiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiimnMiHiiHiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiutniniiiuiriniiiiHiiiniiiniiiimHiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiHMHiiiiiiiMimiiiiiriiniiuiniiiHiiiriiiriiiiimiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 'iiiuiiiiiiniiiiiiiiuminMirMiininiHiMniiunMMiMiiiNHurKiiMHiiniiiMiiiiiinHimiiiiiiiiiiiHHiHiiriHiiHiiHMMiininiMiiiiirHirniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnMiiiuiiiinniiiMininMiiiinnniininiirMi^ 
 
 hotel eating on the way. Very tired and very happy we went to our 
 shabby, little room and crept under our mosquito nettings, glad of a 
 place to rest. 
 
 During Holy Week, everything was closed, and it was only by 
 hunting up custodians, and persuading them to open doors, that we 
 could have access to any of the housed sights of the City. At the 
 Columbian Library — adjoining the Cathedral — carefully preserved 
 in a glass case, we saw the journals of Columbus, and a well-thumbed 
 copy of The Travels of Marco Polo, which Columbus always carried 
 on his voyages, and which, first suggested to him the probable exist- 
 ence of a New World. The book was so opened that four pages 
 could be seen, and around every page were marginal notes made by 
 Columbus' own hand. 
 
 That afternoon we went to the beautiful Alcazar. The outer 
 walls and towers of the plainest description, but once through the 
 horse shoe arch, a Palace of beauty indescribable. Spacious courts 
 with plashing fountains, surrounded by pillars of rare marbles and 
 graceful arches. Splendid rooms, the walls brilliant with color, and 
 the most delicate, lace-like ornamentation in traceries of vines, flow- 
 ers, arabesques and inscriptions from the Koran. Overhead, ceilings 
 gorgeous with gold and vivid color. 
 
 The terraced gardens back of the Palace were lovely; fountains 
 and flowers, blossoming orange and lemon trees, hedges of myrtle and 
 mazes of box, in one of which we lost our way and wandered for a 
 long time before you found the clue that helped us out ; and we came 
 upon a little thicket of tall bushes laden with fragrant flowers — the 
 old-fashioned roses of Castile. Those bushes carried us back to my 
 old home, and we talked of Mother's rose hush, the simple, little 
 history of which you knew so well, — how as a bride, my Mother had 
 carried with her to her new home a cutting from her favorite rose 
 bush, — had chosen a place in the garden where my Father planted 
 it, and there it grew, and thrived. 
 
 Children came. They grew, and thrived and learned in turn the 
 story of the rose bush, and after a time rivalry sprang up, each want- 
 ing to be the one to carry the first rose of the summer to Mother 
 from her hush. How we watched the buds from day to day, and then 
 after some warm June night, the first one up and out in the morn- 
 ing, found an open Castilian rose to carry to Mother. 
 
 Back of the Palace gardens in a small plaza we saw the shop of 
 Figaro, the Barber of Seville. 
 
 The Calle de las Sierpes — ^the street of the serpents — was always 
 
 Page One Hundred Twenty-three 
 
«iiiiiiinHniiniiinniiiiiiiniiiMitiiiinMiiii[iiniiNiniiiiiiniiiniiiiiuiniiiiininiiiiiHiiiiiHiiiiinHnmiHiiHiiHHiiiiiiuiiiiiiuuniiiniiiuiuiinniiiiiiiiiniiHiiiimiiiiiHHH^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiinMiiiinuiiiiiiiniimiiiiiiiniMiiiiiniiiiMiuiiiinniiMiHiuuiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiinHiiiumHMiiiiimiiuiiuHiuituMMiuiMuiiiiiHiiiuiiuiiMiiuuiuHiiuwiiwiiiuiHiw^ 
 
 a delightful place to wander in, by day or night. A narrow, winding 
 street, barred by posts against all vehicles, and lined with shops, cafes 
 and clubs. Over the roofs of the lofty houses, an awning stretched 
 across the street, keeping out the fierce rays of the sun. (Seville 
 called "the oven of Spain" was like an oven that mid April when we 
 were first there). 
 
 The shop windows were full of pretty things. Crepe shawls 
 with long fringe, water color pictures of dancing girls and fans in 
 great variety, — some of lace, some hand painted in lovely designs 
 with jewelled sticks and precious stones, and gaudy fans with scenes 
 from the bull ring. 
 
 It was a relief on Friday evening to have the clumsy pasos dis- 
 appear from the streets. Towards the end the Brotherhoods lagged, 
 weary and worn, and even the Virgins, with tapers burned out, 
 flowers faded, and drooping banners, looked in need of rest. 
 
 Our portly vis-a-vis and her party continued to amuse and enter- 
 tain us at table. On the third evening after staring at us and dis- 
 cussing us the mother leaned across the table towards you, with 
 "Americano, Senor?" 
 
 "Si Sefiora, Americano," you answered. 
 
 She said they were all from Malaga; that Malaga was the 
 liveliest city in Spain, — then she asked where your home was, and 
 when you told her "San Francisco, Senora" she raised her eyebrows 
 and repeated the words in such a way that we knew our home city 
 had no place on her limited geographical map. After that she always 
 offered us cigarettes from her box, I declining with thanks, and 
 you taking one to be polite, and chatting with her while you 
 smoked it. 
 
 The gentleman, who with his wife occupied the small shabby 
 room adjoining ours, was an agent for several raisin shipping con- 
 cerns, had been frequently in New York, spoke English fluently, 
 was agreeable, and wanted to be sociable, but his wife would not 
 allow it. She was exceedingly plain and exceedingly disagreeable. 
 One day he introduced her to us, but the only return our bows 
 brought was a stony stare. 
 
 "Wife beating ought to prevail in Spain, and that woman ought 
 to have a husband who practised it," said I later. 
 
 When the bete noire was not around, he did manage to have many 
 a chat with us. He told us the lady who sat opposite us at table was 
 a Countess — that the Count, her husband, had died, leaving her a vast 
 estate, mostly in vineyards; that she gave personal supervision to the 
 
 Page One Hundred Twenty-four 
 
MIUIHHHHimilUHNHHIHHIUIIHIIIHIHIMIimiliniliniliniNIIIHUUNIIimHmiHmiNHIHIimHIIHHIIMUIHimillHUnilHHIIIHIIMnilimilHIIIIIIIIWIIHimHIIIHimiHnilmnilllllUII^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 mHHiiuHiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiitiiiMiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiHiHiimiiiiiMHniiuiiuiiiiMiiiHHUiimiwuiMiiiNmiHWiHiiHHiiiNmuiitNiiiiintiiiHiiumiiHmiiniiHiNiitmi^ 
 
 industry, and that the raisins made upon her place, were among the 
 best shipped from Malaga. 
 
 Saturday morning, Mass at the Cathedral. Hundreds of men 
 and women were there, kneeling and sitting on the floor ; men of title 
 and wealth, laboring men, beggars, male and female, veiled nuns, 
 women of the poor, and elegant women in black lace mantillas, the 
 jewels on their fingers flashing in the dim light, as they languidly 
 fanned themselves. 
 
 Through the week a purple veil had hung before the High Altar 
 from the vaulted roof to the floor. As the Mass progressed a small 
 but brilliant procession left the Royal Chapel. At the head, walked 
 the Archbishop, a stately, richly robed figure, carrying a jewelled 
 vessel that contained the Host. As the High Altar was reached, 
 came the elevation^ and with the suddenness of a flash of lightning, 
 a volume of sound, startling and thrilling in its intensity, rolled and 
 reverberated through the Cathedral. A sharp discharge of firearms, 
 an immense chorus of voices, the thunder of the two great organs, a 
 full and splendid orchestra, the pealing of the Giralda bells, all 
 blended together like the crash of one vast instrument ; and the purple 
 veil was rent in twain and disappeared! 
 
 The High Altar looked very beautiful with its exquisite wood 
 carving portraying scenes in the life and death of Christ. Light 
 was thrown upon the wonderful lifelike figures in a most efl'ective 
 and picturesque way, by groups of beautiful boys about ten years of 
 age; three in each group, dressed in scarlet, standing on platforms 
 one above another, holding silver candlesticks (representing Angels 
 with shining outstretched wings) in which candles were burning. 
 
 With the "rending of the veil," the ceremonies of Holy Week 
 were at an end, and the City resumed its normal condition. Cabs and 
 carriages began at once to circulate in the streets, clocks struck the 
 hours all over the town, and the "silver throated Giralda bells," 
 chimed out the passing time every fifteen minutes. 
 
 In the afternoon we visited the Government tobacco manufac- 
 tory, a large, handsome building. The interior was divided into four 
 immense rooms, that held rows of long tables, and in each room, 
 seated at the tables from eight hundred to a thousand women and 
 girls were making cigars and rolling cigarettes. The ceiling was low, 
 and the air close and stifling. There were many pretty faces, but 
 nearly all were shabbily dressed, the garments they wore in coming 
 and going hanging on nails around the walls. Nearly all the girls 
 had before her in a glass of water, a rose or carnation to pin to her 
 
 Page One Hundred Twenty-five 
 
liiiiiiniHiiniHMiiiiinniiiiininiinMMiMnHiniMnnniiiiiimitiiniiiuininiiminiiniriiiiiiiiMHMuiiinniiiHniirniMnniniiiiiiiHiniiiiiinuMiinMniiniiiiinitMiMiHiiniiuHnMininnni^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiMiniiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiHiHiHiiiiMiiiiiiiiiimiiiumimiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiinniHiiiiiiMiiiHininiiMiiniiiiniiiiiuiiu 
 
 hair before going into the street. Now and then walking between 
 the long rows we came upon a pretty, young creature who wore her 
 attractive gown, instead of hanging it up, and had a flower in her 
 hair and a fresh one beside her to wear in going home. Poor, young 
 beings! some had the appealing look of a fawn in their soft, brown 
 eyes, some were coquettish, and some with flashing black eyes were of 
 the dare-devil class! Some women worked with babies on their laps, 
 and lying on the floor along the wall were babies galore. 
 
 At the Museum we saw some beautiful pictures of Murillo, and 
 at La Caridad — a small hospital for the sick and poor — his two 
 famous pictures. The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes, and Moses 
 Smiting the Rock. Such wonderful pictures ! The Institution was in 
 charge of Sisters of Charity, and how the Sister that showed us the 
 treasures did love them! and how enthusiastically you two talked of 
 their beauty! Dear, good Soul! with her pleasant face and soft voice, 
 we noticed that she had a smile and a friendly word for every poor 
 pensioner that we passed. 
 
 The Andalusian dances we saw that Saturday night at the sug- 
 gestion of the bete noire's husband — at a queer old theater called the 
 Novodades — were ever after a delightful memory. The girls were all 
 young and pretty, their costumes charming and their dancing grace- 
 ful and bewitching. Two particularly lovely girls, their skirts a 
 golden gleam, white lace mantillas falling from their heads and over 
 their shoulders, a yellow rose in the hair, danced the cachuca to the 
 music of their castanets. They were a dream of grace and beauty! 
 In the bolero, young men danced with the girls. It was a lively, 
 graceful dance given with great abandon. The young men were as 
 picturesque as the girls, with short jackets, wide crimson sashes em- 
 broidered trousers ending at the knees, silk stockings and low shoes. 
 One dance was unique. A handsome young woman beautifully 
 dressed, a bright shawl with long fringe around her shoulders. In 
 her swaying graceful movements with uplifted arms, the shawl, two 
 ends of which she held in her hands played an efl'ective part. There 
 was no music, only the marking of time by the rhythmic stamping of 
 feet and clapping of hands by the large audience. 
 
 The performance ended with gypsy dances, where only the 
 muscles of the body danced. The girls were pretty, but their dancing 
 was neither graceful nor pleasant to see. It called to your mind the 
 couplet, 
 
 "What can't be said can be sung. 
 And what can't be sung can be done." 
 
 Page One Hundred Twenty-six 
 
tiuiiiiUHinniniiiMMiiiiMnniniiniiiiiMiniininiiinMniinniiiininiiiiHirninniiiMMiiniiiiinniiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiinHriiiiininiiimniniiinniinuiiHiininiiHiiiiniHiiiiuiiiiiiiMuiMMiiMinriiitiiu 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiiiiiiHiiMNinMuniniiiMiniiiniiiiiniMiHiMfiiiiiMiiuniniiNiiuiiiiiiiiinmiiiiiiiiriiiiHiiiiiiiininiuiniiniHiiiiiuiniiiiHniiiiinuiiiHiiiHHHniiniiniiMHniinnHiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiu 
 
 Easter Mass at the Cathedral was very briUiant; all the riches 
 and treasures of the Church being brought out and displayed at that 
 time. The swinging censers were of gold. In a beautiful wrought 
 iron screen beside the High Altar, in groups of three, the golden 
 Mass bells hung, and frequently throughout the service rang out their 
 joyous peal. On the opposite side the Paschal-candle burned; the 
 candle-stick of chisseled bronze twenty-five feet in height, the candle 
 containing one ton and a quarter of perfumed wax. 
 
 In the choir stalls there was a glow of crimson and scarlet and 
 all the vestments were rich and beautiful. Kneeling on the floor, 
 dressed in white with white lace mantillas on their heads were hun- 
 dreds of women. 
 
 It was a brilliant and beautiful sight but the joy of the service 
 to us was in the glorious music; all through the Mass the tuneful 
 voices of boy choristers in the organ lofts had been heard, and with 
 the Gloria in Excelsis those clear young voices were joined by a great 
 chorus in a burst of joyous song, accompanied by many violins, and 
 the deep rich tones of the two organs. 
 
 When we were making our plans for Spain, you said, "I sup- 
 pose we shall have to see a bull fight; everybody does." We talked it 
 over and agreed that we should probably find it harrowing, but being 
 in Spain it was the natural and proper thing to do. 
 
 At Easter, all through the Peninsula the bull fights for the 
 season commence. The first performance brings out the exclusive 
 set, just as a first night of Grand Opera, or the opening performance 
 at a theater does with us. 
 
 At two in the afternoon we left the hotel with a large party in a 
 shabby omnibus drawn by four horses, provided by the landlord at 
 an excessive charge for each guest. The city had taken on a festive 
 appearance. Flags waved from housetops, silk and velvet draperies 
 hung from balconies. The streets were crowded with people, and 
 the road from the city to the Plaza del Toros was a study. Push 
 carts loaded with children, cabs, market wagons, and fantastic vehicles 
 all crowded to their utmost capacity, drawn by mules or donkeys 
 driven abreast or tandem with the drivers on their backs. 
 
 Thousands of men and women were walking (the women often 
 carrying babies in their arms) and in the midst of this motley, pro- 
 miscuous throng were private carriages, sometimes one or two, some- 
 times a string of a dozen or more ; carriages with crests on the panels, 
 servants in handsome livery, and filled with gentlemen and beautiful 
 
 Page One Hundred Twentj'Seven 
 
»H n i m iH i imiM»HiiwmiiHttmnHmiiiHHmHiiHmmMiiiiiHiiiw»iiiMiHniimwtHiMmiiHiHminniHiwiMiiiminiiiiiiHmiHitmM»MiwnmtiiMmiHMMimitiMMHniiiiinitiMWHwmi^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 winuuiiiiiiniMiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiitiiiiiininniiiiMiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiMMiiiuiiiiiimuiiiniiiriimiiinHiiiiniiiiiiimnimmiiiiiiiiiiiiiuniiiiiiiiiiuiHiiiiiHHHiHnimiiiu^ 
 
 ladies, exquisitely dressed, their white lace mantillas and flashing 
 jewels contrasting strangely with their surroundings. 
 
 Inside the large building tiers of seats rose one above another 
 like a Roman amphitheater and opposite the entrance to the ring 
 were the private boxes. Before the hour of three, when the perform- 
 ance was to commence, the twelve thousand seats were all occupied, 
 and a fringe of men were standing behind the upper row. From our 
 shaded places — a la somhra — we looked across the great circle at the 
 men and women crowded together under the fierce rays of the after- 
 noon sun. The incessant fluttering of large, gaudy colored fans was 
 like the movement of thousands of brilliant butterflies. The scene 
 was animated and remarkable. 
 
 Promptly at three o'clock a blare of trumpets and a band of 
 music were heard and every one in that vast audience stood up as 
 the procession appeared and marched to the Alcalde's box, one half 
 on either side of the arena. 
 
 Two guards, in black plumed hats and black velvet mantles on 
 handsome black horses. Toreadors, very picturesque in short em- 
 broidered velvet jackets, wide crimson sashes with knotted ends fall- 
 ing on one side, tightly fitting knee breeches trimmed with buttons 
 and small coins of gold and silver, ruffled shirt front, hair braided in 
 a short queue, small three cornered hat, white silk stockings and low 
 shoes. Banderilleros, in red, black and yellow, glittering with gilt 
 braid, carrying darts with streamers of ribbon. Chulos, in bespangled 
 dress and a cloak of fiery red thrown over an arm. Picadores, their 
 legs encased in metal, covered with leather, their brilliant colored 
 jackets well padded, carrying long, heavy lances and riding poor, 
 sorry, broken-down horses, one blind folded eye on the side presented 
 to the bull. Two teams of mules, six in each team, gayly caparisoned 
 with bells on the harness. 
 
 The divided procession met before the box of the Alcalde and a 
 very brilliant, picturesque group they made. The Alcalde rose, 
 bowed and threw down a key, thus granting permission for the fight. 
 The key was carried to the guardian of a door, over which was a 
 bull's head carved in wood. 
 
 The door was unlocked, thrown open, and the supreme moment 
 for that great concourse of people had come. A splendid animal, 
 that until yesterday had passed all the few short years of his life in 
 flowery meadows, was driven from his dark prison, and stood motion- 
 less for a few seconds, dazzled by the strong light, and dazed by the 
 strange sights that he saw, and the strange sounds that he heard, — 
 
 Page One Hundred Twenty-eight 
 
.iHiiiiiiiiHmHHiiiimimmiiHiHNiuiniHiiiiiiinHiHiHmiHmmiiiNiHMHHUiimuiiuHiiiiitiiimiiiiiiinniiiniiiniritiitiiNitiHiniiHNHiniiriinrHiNiinnNMiiniiiitiiiiiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiiiiuiuiuiniuuNiutuiuiuiuuiiiMiuniiiiiiuuimiiiiniHuiHHiiiiinuiiunHuiiiiiiiniiiiiiniiuuiniimitiunmuiiniuniiiniirinnuiHuiiiiiimiiniiiiiuiiHiiuiu 
 
 then like a flash the powerful, pitiless, ferocious beast plunged into 
 the ring and with his long, sharp horns ripped open and disemboweled 
 the first horse he reached, throwing horse and rider to the ground. 
 The spectators were in a perfect frenzy of delight, and cries of 
 "Bravo Toro! Bravo Toro" resounded through the air. 
 
 And we, with many an oh! oh! oh! we looked at one another. 
 
 You said "How horrible! how horrible!" and I, always extrava- 
 gantly fond of horses admiring those of high estate, and pitying 
 those of low estate, I began to cry. 
 
 You did not look towards the ring but we both knew from the 
 hoarse, excited cries of men, and the shrill, excited cries of women, of 
 "Bravo Toro" that, that demon of a brute was going on with his 
 bloody work. 
 
 As I continued to weep, you asked, "Would you like to go 
 away?" I answered, "How much did you tell me you paid for the 
 seats?" 
 
 Then you laughed and quoted, 
 
 "For though on pleasure she was bent. 
 She had a frugal mind." 
 
 adding, "I paid seven dollars for the two seats but don't be influenced 
 by that, if you wish to go away. If you stay you must stop crying/^ 
 
 I did stop crying and said I would wait to see that dreadful bull 
 punished, but I did not have the courage to see what was going on 
 until you said "Look! look!" A chulo waving his bit of maddening 
 color before the bull, suddenly finding he had only one means of 
 escape, jumped on the animal's head. I did not see the agile little 
 imp make the jump, but I did see him leisurely walk down the broad 
 back, and slip to the ground over the tail. 
 
 Before that time the be-tasseled mules with their tinkling bells, 
 had dragged away the victims, and fresh white sand covered the 
 blood stained spots. 
 
 The bull's shoulders and flanks were stuck full of barbed darts, 
 the streamers of ribbon tied to them, fluttering in the air with his 
 every movement. He was still full of fight and wickedness, when the 
 signal was given for his despatch, and a lithe, slender, handsome 
 young toreador, with a red cloak over his left arm, and a gleaming 
 sword in his right hand stepped into the ring. The Toreador and 
 the bull faced each other — looked steadily at each other — on the 
 part of the Toreador, it surely did call for courage. 
 
 Page One Hundred Twenty-nine 
 
•iMmiHinnraiiiinmitMniiinimiitiiiitiitiiiiininiiiiiininiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiinniintiniinmntiiiiiiiiniiiiniiiininiiuniuitniiuiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiniuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiM^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 «HIUUH«INHIIiniiinilllllllllUIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIMHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIItlllllllllllllllllHIIIIIIIINIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIIHinilllllIlllllllinilllllllllMIM 
 
 It seemed many minutes but was probably not more than one, 
 of tense, breathless excitement, then lowering his head, with a sudden 
 spring the bull darted forward. The Toreador waving his cloak 
 jumped aside. We saw the sword gleam in the air and turned our 
 faces away. Again the wildest cries rang through the ring. Bravo! 
 Bravo! Magnifico! Magnifico! but this time they were not for the 
 toro ; they were for the man. When we looked, the bull was stretched 
 lifeless on the ground and the Toreador stood, cap in hand before the 
 Alcalde's box receiving an ovation of a strange and amusing kind, 
 as cigars, cigarettes, money and hats were showered upon him from 
 every side. The first three he could appropriate, but the hats were 
 all claimed by their owners. 
 
 Directly across the aisle from our seats, that were on the great 
 stone circle, softened by cushions you had rented, the boxes began. 
 In the first box, were four gentlemen and four ladies. The ladies 
 were elegant, and gowned exquisitely, and you told me, that when 
 we turned in horror from that first sickening spectacle, they were all 
 holding their fans before their faces. Whether they had learned 
 from experience, or whether they were warned by the gentlemen of 
 their party, they surely knew when to look, and when not to look, and 
 guided by the movements of their lovely fans, we were spared any 
 further shock, as they even shut out the killing of the bulls. We 
 remained for three acts of the performance. We saw many hair 
 breadth escapes when men just managed to reach and vault over the 
 barrier five feet high, surrounding the ring. We saw many acts of 
 daring and bravado; many of great courage when a cloak would be 
 waved in the face of an infuriated bull, to turn him away from a 
 hard pressed comrade. 
 
 At dinner our Spanish Countess was full of enthusiasm — she had 
 never seen a better fight, and we wondered how much of it had been 
 shut out by her fan! On the streets and in the cafes nothing was 
 heard but toro, toro, toro. Every one talked of the bull fight, and we 
 talked of it too, and we agreed, that if the bull was only teased and 
 not killed, and if the sickening, revolting brutality practised on the 
 poor, helpless, blind-folded horses — which is a disgrace and reproach 
 to Spain — could be eliminated, a bull fight would be the gayest, 
 cleverest, most picturesque and exciting of sports! 
 
 The next morning you read to me from the newspapers. "The 
 first performance of the season at the Plaza del Toros had been a 
 great success. Then followed a long list of names of the Spanish 
 nobility present. The first bull from the famous herd of the Duke of 
 
 Page One Hundred Thirty 
 
wmiiiitMiiMiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiNiuiiiiiitiiiiiiiHiiiiinniiiiniMiiiMimmiitflniiiNiiminmiHiiMimiiimMHnmiHniiiMnnnHHiiniHiiHiNiiiiiiiuiiniiu^^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iliuiiiiiinMniHiniiiiiiiiHiiiiMiiiiiiiiniiiuiiiMiiniiiniuininiiiiiMiniMiiiiMiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiuiiiuiinumiriiiuiiiiiiuHiiiirniitiMiuiuiiMiiiiiuiHniuiinniiiiiiii^ 
 
 Veragua had killed five horses in ten minutes. The brilliant work of 
 the first Espada was highly praised. In all, six bulls and fifteen 
 horses had been killed." Then came many casualties, but no life had 
 been lost. 
 
 The Fair was held in a great open space, the Prado San 
 Sebastian. It was the site of the Quemadero, and the Prado was 
 called the burning ground^ and there thousands and thousands of 
 heretics were martyred. Now, it was a city of booths, and row after 
 row of house tents — casetas — divided in quarters for the Military, the 
 Municipality, the Classes and the Masses. 
 
 At the boundary of the Fair grounds there were flocks of sheep, 
 herds of cattle and droves of pigs. In an enclosure jockeys were 
 riding beautiful white Andalusian horses, draft mules and donkeys 
 were being exhibited, and sleek velvety skinned carriage mules with 
 long silky ears and varnished hoofs. Such handsome, aristocratic 
 looking animals! 
 
 There were booths and side shows — ^men, women and children 
 dancing around hand-organs — Gypsies dressed for Grand Opera, 
 telling fortunes, etc., etc., but our interest centered in the casetas; 
 large, square tents, flat on the top, the entire front open to the street, 
 comfortably furnished, where every morning during the three days 
 of the Fair, the entire family came, with servants, provisions, mando- 
 lins, guitars and childrens' toys. 
 
 As the sunbeams left the plaza long lines of carriages with 
 crests on the doors, drew up before the tents, and the young children, 
 lovely little beings, all lace and ribbon and large, dark eyes, in charge 
 of gorgeously attired nursemaids, were tucked away and driven to 
 the city home, parents and other members of the family standing in 
 the open space of the tent to see them off. 
 
 As night fell, hundreds of Chinese lanterns were lighted, and 
 the scene within the tents and without, was one of beauty and anima- 
 tion. We got our dinner, a bit here and a bit there, the most sub- 
 stantial and most enjoyable part being the calientes or crullers from 
 the pots of sizzling oil. In the tents little dinners were partaken of 
 in full view of the strollers on the streets, and then came the music 
 and dancing. Bewitching young girls would dance to the click of 
 their castanets without caring or thinking of the crowd of onlookers 
 outside the tent. The gaiety seemed at its height when at eleven 
 o'clock we drove back to the City, where dullness reigned supreme. 
 Patios were dark and deserted, shops and bazaars closed, and streets 
 empty. 
 
 Page One Hundred Thirty-one 
 
MiminiiiiiuiHimimirmmmmntniinimiiiiiiiniiiiminimimMHnmimiimiiiniinMmniiiitnuMiMniiinirriniiiiiuiiniiiHmiriNiiiimNHiiimitmimffliiimHiHHmmi^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iMuiiiinumiuntiiunHiiiiniuu»iniHiMiiiiiiiii»iiiiiuiMiiiiiiiHiiiuiiiiniiiiiiiimNiiuiiiuiiiiiiuiiniiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiiiuiiwmiiiiiHMUiuiiiiiiiniHiHHiMumiwiimiHi^ 
 
 Seville had been a perfect delight to us, but the high prices and 
 general demoralization that prevailed during Easter hurried us 
 away. The life of the streets, where we spent most of our time, was 
 fascinating. Coquettish little girls with bare feet, tattered skirts, 
 tattered shawls with long, ragged fringe, flowers in their hair, flirt- 
 ing their fans with an elegance born in them, — somber garbed 
 priests crossing the plazas under immense cotton umbrellas of orange, 
 red or blue, — ^water carriers all in white, — the crowded shopping 
 streets and bazaars, sheltered from the sun by awnings overhead, — 
 the glimpses of life in the patios — the lovely Giralda with the silvery 
 peal of its bells, and the weather-vane silhouetted against the azure 
 sky, — the glorious music of the Cathedral; the luxuriant bloom of 
 flowers that filled the air with perfume, — the delicious nights, saunter- 
 ing with the crowds on the streets, — with young men playing guitars 
 and singing snatches of song, — and we going from one cafe to an- 
 other in those warm breezeless nights, eating ices and enjoying the 
 life around the small crowded tables. Charming women and their 
 escorts and men playing dominoes, the rattling of the pieces mingling 
 with talk and laughter. 
 
 Often we said, "Tonight we will wait and see at what hour the 
 people go to their homes," but about one in the morning our courage 
 always gave out and we left ladies eating ices, men playing dominoes, 
 smoking and drinking wine or cofl'ee, and from patios came the 
 sound of song and laughter — when we heard the click of castanets 
 we stopped for a glimpse of some graceful girl dancing the cachuca. 
 
 From Seville we went to Cadiz 100 miles away. We passed 
 through Jerez surrounded by a vast tract of vines that bore the 
 sherry producing grapes. There were pressing houses and large 
 buildings for storing wine and for miles on both sides of the road 
 piles of casks. 
 
 After the life and charm of Seville, Cadiz was a dull, uninterest- 
 ing place. All the houses were white and the dazzling sunshine upon 
 them was trying in the extreme. There were pleasant squares with 
 fountains and flowers and every afternoon music by a military band, 
 and a charming walk in broad terraces along the sea wall; but we 
 missed the patios and the shops, and we failed to see girls as captivat- 
 ing as those of whom Byron wrote. 
 
 General Sickles and daughter and the American Consul, with 
 his wife, were at the Fonda de Paris, where we fortunately went, and 
 by their kindness made our forced stay of three days waiting for a 
 steamer a pleasant memory. Every evening the Consul carried you 
 
 Page One Hundred Thirty-two 
 
iimiiiinHiiiiiunniiiiiinMninHHniiiiiiiiHiHiiiHiiiiuuiMtmiiiiiiiHtHUitiuimiuiHiiiNimiiiiiuiiHiiiiNiiHiuiiiiiHmnHMNiiiiimmmiwHiiiiHiMiHHiiimm^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 IIIIIIHIHIIIIIUHIIHIUIWIIIUIIIIIIIIIHniUIHHIinMHHIIIIMIIIinillUIHIUIIIIUIIIIIHUIIimilllllinilUIIIUHIMIIUninHIIIUHIIHinnillllWIIIIHHIIUIWIIHItHMHH^ 
 
 and the General off to the club, and they all went with us to the 
 Convent of San Francisco to see Murillo's beautiful picture, The 
 Marriage of St. Catherine, and to the Capuchin Monastery where 
 we saw a Pastoral Virgin, by Murillo, wearing a large straw hat 
 trimmed with flowers and holding the staff of a shepherdess; around 
 her, lambs, their necks garlanded with flowers. An unusual picture 
 but very pretty. 
 
 General Sickles stormed around and stamped the floor with his 
 wooden leg when he heard that we could not obtain through his 
 deputy a card admitting us to the opening of the Cortes, and declared 
 he would make things lively for somebody when he got back to 
 Madrid. 
 
 Very early on an April morning we sailed in a small coasting 
 steamer called the Genii, for Malaga. Soon as we got away from 
 the wharf the Genii began to roll and pitch and your enthusiasm 
 about the beautiful appearance Cadiz presented, rising you said like 
 an island from the sea, was not shared by me. Lunch time, but I 
 was not hungry. At three o'clock we passed Cape Trafalgar. We 
 rolled and pitched through the Straits of Gibraltar most horribly, 
 you vainly trying to interest me in the mountain peaks of Africa. 
 Then the great rock of Gibraltar loomed before us and soon we were 
 in the smooth waters of the Bay of Algeciras. For nearly six hours 
 we lay at the pier taking on and discharging cargo. Little boats 
 were going back and forth carrying passengers to Gibraltar, and we 
 wanted so much to go, but the Captain was obdurate, and you, always 
 the dear Philosopher, said we should probably not see anything so 
 interesting as the great, rugged rock and the animated wharf. 
 
 From fishing boats, fishermen with crimson caps and sashes, were 
 carrying their catch to the pier, and Moors, such wonderful looking 
 beings when first seen! Moors, with jet black faces under large 
 white turbans, their bare, jet black arms and ankles in striking con- 
 trast to the white of the voluminous burnouses, their feet covered by 
 yellow slippers were moving in and out among their merchandise. 
 It was a fascinating scene. 
 
 Soon after the sunset gun was fired from Gibraltar, the rock 
 took on a lovely pink color, and when darkness fell, friendly little 
 lights came out on the mastheads of boats, in Algeciras, and around 
 and about the grand, imposing rock. 
 
 At five o'clock next morning we were at Malaga. We waited 
 two hours for the health officers to come on board. They looked at 
 the tongues of all the passengers and crew. We were then, at an 
 
 Page One Hundred Thirty-three 
 
luiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiHinMniiiiiiniiiiitiniiiiiinHiriiniiiiiMiHinitiiiiniiiiniiiHiriiNHiiiiiiiiiiiiuniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiirinuiHniimHnuiiiiwiiMiiuiimiHiuiininMiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 ^iHMiiiiiiiuiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiitHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinniuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiuiiuiHiiuuiHiuHiiiuiiiiiiiiiiuuHiiiiiiiiiiimniiiiiiiMimiiHiiiuiiMiiiiHiiiiHinininii^ 
 
 exorbitant rate, rowed ashore to the custom house, where our valises 
 and hand-bags were carefully examined. With patience pretty well 
 exhausted we reached the Fonda de la Alameda. 
 
 Going out later on the Alameda, the first thing that attracted 
 our attention was a group of boys. One of them had a bird that the 
 others were trying to take away. We stopped to look and found 
 that the poor little bird had a string tied to one of its legs, which 
 was fastened to a stick and used as a plaything. You bought the 
 bird, cut the string and away the bird flew. That was but a be- 
 ginning for as we went along there was a succession of boys, 
 single, or in groups, with captive birds. How many, Dear Heart, 
 how many you tried to give freedom! but often the wings were 
 bruised or broken, and the poor little things could only flutter a few 
 feet away, and would then be re-captured. 
 
 To relieve our distress, we turned away from the Alameda. A 
 hot, disagi-eeable wind, clouds of fine white dust, and swarms of 
 ragged beggars followed us and made the day thoroughly unpleasant. 
 We found great activity in the business streets and in the shop 
 windows boxes of raisins and chocolate attractively displayed. We 
 drove to the new and fashionable quarter and saw the splendid 
 homes of the wealthy, and wondered in which our Countess lived. 
 
 At seven the following morning we left Malaga for Granada. 
 For many, many miles we rode through a country of wonderful 
 fertility. A great orchard, of orange, fig, date, lemon, olive and 
 almond trees and when we reached the foothills we found them 
 covered with vines. 
 
 Our wheezy engine, with much puffing, carried us up a consid- 
 erable elevation and through a wild gorge of the river Xenil, with 
 bold precipitous cliffs, between which we got fine views of Malaga 
 and the Bay. 
 
 From Archidona, to cross the pass of 3,000 feet over the moun- 
 tain range, we had our first experiensce with a Spanish diligencia. 
 It stood at the door of the posada awaiting the arrival of the train. 
 A clumsy, shabby vehicle, on top of which the baggage and freight 
 were being piled, with seats for the driver and conductor under a 
 hood. A small compartment called the herlina was taken from the 
 body of the coach at the front with room for three passengers. There 
 were twelve mules before the diligencia, the harness stuck full of red 
 worsted tassels and balls, and around each animal's neck strings of 
 bells. The bodies of the mules were clipped in all manner of fan- 
 tastic, grotesque and zig-zag patterns. 
 
 Page One Hundred Thirty-four 
 
■imiiiimiiiiininiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiuniHiniHniiiHiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiimmimimiiiiimiiiiimiMinmimiiiiiniiiiniiiiiiiiimiiimiiiiMiiniiuinininiiiinii^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 miiiiiiiiiiiii iiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimHiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiJiiiiiiirimiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiHiiiiinu 
 
 The two men and the boy in charge of this remarkable outfit 
 were picturesque. The mayoral or conductor was the important 
 personage and had general supervision over everything and every- 
 body. He assigned seats and regulated the time of starting and 
 stopping; he was good natured and a picture to look at, with his 
 embroidered velvet jacket, leather leggins, silver buttons on his 
 gaiters, a wide red sash and large sombrero with silver cord and 
 tassel. From him you secured the herlina, paying for the extra seat, 
 and glad indeed we were to have it, for the garlic eating passengers 
 that were packed in the coach would not have been agreeable com- 
 panions. 
 
 The driver and little postillion, the Mozo, were much embroid- 
 ered, wore sashes and silver buttons, and silver cord with tassels on 
 their hats. The Mozo was the Mayoral in miniature, — very small and 
 wizen-faced he was a most comical looking bit of humanity. 
 
 When the loading was finished a heavy leather covering was 
 drawn over the mountainous top, and the ungainly vehicle was ready 
 for a start. Places were taken, the mite of a postillion ran forward 
 and jumped astride one of the leading mules, the driver took up the 
 reins that controlled only the mules at the wheel, and we were off. 
 What we went over, the liveliest imagination could not call a road. 
 Rocks, stones, boulders, gullies, ditches, and no attempt made to 
 avoid any one of them, and every minute we expected the old coach 
 would upset. 
 
 The heat was intense. The string of mules floundered along in 
 a perfect whirlwind of dust. We seldom had a glimpse of any of 
 the team, except the two immediately in front of us. Before we 
 reached the summit we stopped at a rough looking place and when 
 again we started, our team numbered sixteen. After four and a half 
 hours of great discomfort from heat and dust we reached the rail- 
 road. 
 
 At Granada we got into a queer, most uncomfortable vehicle, 
 the front wheels being unusually small, and the back wheels unusually 
 large. We were driven rapidly through narrow, rough streets, we 
 two and our luggage all in a jumble against the front of the vehicle. 
 Suddenly we were upon a smooth roadway, beneath tall trees, and 
 at ten o'clock, (I, tired almost to exhaustion) we entered a haven of 
 rest, the Washington Irving Hotel at the Alhambra. 
 
 The landlord, Swiss, a nice man who spoke English well. 
 
 "Can you give us a bite of something to eat?" you asked him, 
 adding, that we had come from Malaga. 
 
 Page One Hundred Thirty-five 
 
(iiMiummiiiiniiiiNiiniiiininHtiMiiiiiMitiiiiiiiiiiiiniiniiiiiiniiinnHiiiiiiinminnniiiiiHiiiniiiiiiniHiiiniitiiiiiuiiinmiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiMniniinHiiiiiriiiinnninmciii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aiiiiiinHiinitiiiiinMHiiiiiHiHiiiHiiininiuiininniuiiMiiiiiiuniuiiiiniMiiiiiimiiiiiiiiimiminiHiiniiiiiimiiiiiiiriiiiiiiinumiiiiiiiiinmiiiiiiiiitinii^ 
 
 "You need more than a bite after that journey," he answered, 
 and while we washed away some of the dust and grime, the dear, 
 kind man had a very nice supper prepared for us. 
 
 "Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep" made new beings 
 of us during the night, and what a joy it was on waking in the 
 morning to remember where we were. 
 
 "Do you realize, Dear Heart, that we are at the Alhambra?" 
 I asked. 
 
 "One of our cherished dreams come true, dear — " you answered. 
 
 We had read Irving's Alhambra over and over again and were 
 fairly steeped in the romance, the poetry and interest so delightfully 
 set forth in the book. 
 
 We went out in the grove — ^blessings on the Duke of Welling- 
 ton — where, in the interlaced branches of tall slender trees of elm and 
 lime, numberless nightingales were singing in chorus of most entranc- 
 ing song; where on both sides of the road little rivulets of sparkling 
 water were running in channels from one murmuring fountain to 
 another; where roses and jasmine blooming in profusion made all the 
 air delicious. 
 
 Blissfully happy, hand in hand, we walked back and forth in 
 that heavenly spot, forgetting completely for the time, the Palace 
 of the Moors and all the lore of the place! 
 
 We expected as the day advanced those tireless birds would 
 cease to sing, for we had yet to learn that in the groves of the Al- 
 hambra the nightingales sing day and night. After a considerable 
 time we sauntered on. Ah me ! those delightful days in that enchant- 
 ing spot, with Irving for our guide and companion, you reading 
 aloud his descriptions and all the romantic tales and traditions con- 
 nected with the palace and towers, as we went from one place to an- 
 other over and over again. 
 
 Back of the unfinished palace of CharlesV — which Irving called 
 an arrogant intruder, and to make way for which, much of the 
 Moorish palace was destroyed — we followed a narrow alley, and 
 through a low doorway entered fairyland. 
 
 Court after court with fountains and pools, and arcades of 
 slender marble pillars that supported "elegant galleries of fretted 
 architecture." Hall after hall of a loveliness bewildering and in- 
 describable. Tiles of exquisite color, and sculptured birds and 
 flowers, escutcheons and ciphers, geometrical patterns and inscriptions 
 from the Koran in graceful Arabic letters. Every wall a "petrified 
 veil of the most delicate lace," in color a soft creamy pink. 
 
 Page One Hundred Thirty-six 
 
iiinriiininiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiintnHiiimiiiiiiiiiinnininiiiiiiiiiniiiiiitimiiiiniHiiinHiimnininiiiininitiMiiiinninHiiiMirtinniiiiHiitnMiniMitiiiniiiiiiiniiiiinninii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 .1IIIIIIIMI iiiiiiiiiiimiii iiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiHiiiiiiiinii iiiiiiiii uiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiniuuiiiiiiiuiiiiiiriiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiriiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiim 
 
 How well I remember, Dear, when in the very heart of the 
 palace we first came upon the charming little Garden of Lindaraja — 
 a favorite Sultana — with its fountains, its roses, and citrons and 
 hedges of myrtle; and our unbounded joy at sight of the Court of 
 Lions! How we lingered there, drinking in the beauty of that en- 
 chanted place! Two delightful porticos, and arcades of delicate 
 marble columns, with graceful horseshoe arches above, enclosed the 
 "fountain, famous in song and story" and formed the lovely Court 
 of Lions. 
 
 And what funny looking old Lions they were! Twelve in 
 number, of red marble, rudely sculptured and uncouth, with immense 
 paws, and ridiculous tails ; many minus an ear, or part of a nose, that 
 Vandals had chipped off, perhaps centuries ago, with water gushing 
 from their mouths, and bearing on their backs, an enormous double 
 basin of alabaster, the Lions made a fountain, matchless and unique 
 in all the World! 
 
 We often walked through the Gate of Justice — that joy of 
 artists — with the sculptured hand and key on successive arches; and 
 across a deep ravine, up the hill, through avenues of tall, closely- 
 clipped cypress trees, to the summer villa of Moorish Sovereigns, the 
 Generalife. The terraced gardens were full of flowers and fragrance, 
 and the gushing waters filled the air with music. 
 
 To us, not the least by far, of the "witching charm of the Al- 
 hambra" was Irving's own experience of life within the Moorish 
 Palace. We often visited the rooms he occupied and were always 
 looking for counterparts of the "personages who constituted his 
 regal household." Tia Antonia, the good dame who put a little 
 common furniture in the rooms, and supplied the table in her own 
 simple way. Dolores, the plump, dark-eyed, merry-hearted little 
 niece who officiated as hand-maid. Pepe, the tall, stuttering yellow- 
 haired lad who worked in the gardens and brought each morning a 
 tribute of flowers. Mateo Ximenes, "a son of the Alhambra" who 
 appointed and installed himself as valet, guide and gossiping squire. 
 The simple meals taken wherever fancy dictated — sometimes in one 
 of the Moorish halls, sometimes under the arcades of the Court of 
 Lions surrounded by fountains; and the frugal supper of fruit and 
 milk on a balcony overhanging the Darro. What a charming place 
 that balcony was! and how we enjoyed sitting there when the sun 
 went down and the "parched Vega" lay bathed in soft and tender 
 light. 
 
 Our guide, Mateo Ximenes, a youth of twenty, claimed to be 
 
 Page One Hundred Thirty-seven 
 
nmiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitmiiiiiiHiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinuiiiiiiiiriiiimniiiiiiiiiiriniimiiiiiiitiiiiiiuimiiiiini itiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim tiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiu 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 nuiiiiiiiMiHiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiuiiiiiiiiiHiiiuuiuiniiiiiiiniiHiimHiiiiiiiniiiimiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiniiuiiiiiniininiiiuiiiiiMinniiiiiuiiiiiiniiiiiuiiiiiiiin^ 
 
 a grandson of the Mateo Ximenes immortalized by Irving, and as 
 Irving's Mateo had a "numerous progeny" there was no reason to 
 doubt his descent. We were allowed to ramble about as we pleased, 
 and remain for any length of time in places that took our fancy — 
 so different from subsequent visits when we went with crowds of 
 tourists from one court to another watched by an army of guides. 
 
 We made several visits to Granada. We went to the Cathedral 
 and saw in the Royal Chapel the magnificent tombs of Ferdinand and 
 Isabella. We saw their crowns, sceptres and jewels; and the sword 
 of Boabdil, with exquisitely chiselled scabbard and jewelled hilt. 
 
 The streets were always full of picturesque gypsies. Widely 
 different specimens we fell in with one day when we climbed a hill 
 for the view and came suddenly upon a gypsy stronghold. Burrow- 
 ing like animals in caves cut in the side of the hill, with hedges of 
 cactus shielding the entrance from view, we found a ragged, tattered, 
 cut-throat looking lot. They resented our presence with such scowls 
 and threats that we beat a hasty retreat; a half dozen dogs snapping 
 and snarling at our heels. 
 
 "A very unsafe place for you to have gone," our landlord said. 
 
 The gypsies were good for nothing; whether in ragged raiment 
 they burrowed in caves, or lived in town bedecked with spangles, they 
 never worked, preferring to steal, beg, sing, dance, tell fortunes, and 
 sell charms to ward off the evil eye. 
 
 On the last night of our stay as we walked in the grove, the 
 nightingales singing in the trees, I asked, 
 
 "Must we tear ourselves away from this heavenly place, Dear? 
 Why not stay longer?" 
 
 "It is better to go now while it is all so perfect," you answered. 
 
 "Remember what Irving wrote, 'the advance of summer with- 
 er ed the rose and silenced the nightingale.' " 
 
 True, we had had six perfect days in one of the beauty spots of 
 the World. We had loitered in the courts and halls of the palace, and 
 lingered in the gardens. We had climbed to the tops of the "ruddy 
 towers" on the hillside, and seen below us Granada, and the luxuriant 
 Vega, "a blooming wilderness of garden and teeming orchard." Day 
 after day the snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada had shone like 
 silver against the cloudless azure of the sky, and every evening we 
 had seen the long range bathed in softest tints of pink and rose. The 
 greensward was thickly strewn with violets and daisies and the hedges 
 of rose and jasmine were full of bloom and perfume. 
 
 Page One Hundred Thirty-eight 
 
lUHiiHiniiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiii tiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiriiiiiniiiiiiriHiiiiiHiHuniNiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuitiiiiiiiHiiiiiiuiiiiiHiiiiiiuiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiittiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiinHii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 uuMiiiiimiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiuiiiiiiiiiMiiHiiriiiHuiHiiiiiiiiiiuuii iiiuiiuuiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiuiiinmiin 
 
 It was the Spring of the Year! and the Springtime of Life! 
 when being was a joy! 
 
 At four o'clock next morning we left the hotel and walked 
 through the grove to Granada. In the rosy dawn "the orchestra of 
 nature" was in its full strength and the nightingales joined by all the 
 other songbirds of the grove gave us a royal farewell. 
 
 The start and arrival of the diligencia were the events of the day 
 in Granada and at that early hour a crowd had collected in front of 
 the posada where the gaudy vehicle stood. Fantastic mules, two fan- 
 tastic men and a fantastic boy completed the equipment. 
 
 There was a little cramped seat back of the driver and tempted 
 by the freshness of the morning air you applied for, and obtained it. 
 At half -past four a ladder was placed against the coach and we 
 clambered to our places. The Mayoral blew a long blast upon his 
 horn, the driver gave a succession of ear-splitting cracks of his whip, 
 every bell on the ten mules jingled and jangled and away we gal- 
 loped through the noisy, roughly paved streets. 
 
 The driver's management of his team became at once a source of 
 interest and amusement to us. The mules had the most euphonious 
 names, and when the driver was not talking to the conductor he was 
 talking to the mules; encouraging, scolding or arguing with them 
 upon their conduct, he reeled off their soft, pretty sounding names 
 one after another, and every mule when its name was spoken re- 
 sponded by some motion of the ears, or tail, or both, that was most 
 entertaining. When a mule out of reach of the long whip shirked 
 its work, down would come upon its head or back a sharp, little stone 
 taken from a pile lying at the feet of the driver. 
 
 When we reached the open country we met cavalcades bringing 
 in merchandise and supplies for the city markets. Mules and donkeys, 
 their panniers laden with fruit, flowers and vegetables. Poultry, tied 
 at the feet by the dozen and swung heads down over a donkey's 
 back ; poor little lambs bleating piteously, three or four placed across 
 the back of a mule or donkey with their feet tied together underneath. 
 The muleteers in charge of the cavalcades, would probably have 
 laughed to hear of a "Society for the prevention of cruelty to ani- 
 mals," but they were a picturesque lot, in their broad-brimmed som- 
 breros, red sashes and leather leggins and gaiters. 
 
 Down the bridle paths of steep hillsides other cavalcades were 
 coming. Strings of mules and donkeys, their tinkling bells faintly 
 heard, and the long defiles but dimly seen through the clouds of dust 
 that enveloped them. 
 
 Page One Hundred Thirty-nine 
 
amNHHiiiiiiiiiniiiiHiimiiiiiiHiiMiiinininiiHiniHiinimnniiiimwniminiHMiHntiiitiniiiiiiiinniHiiuinniiiiiiinniitiiiimiiiiniHHHiiiiininitntimiiiiiinitiiiiiiimn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiHiiinMiiiiniiiHHiriMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiHninuiMMiHuiiniiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiuiiiiuiiiiiiMiiiiniiHiiiuiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii^ 
 
 As the day wore on the heat and dust became a torment and we 
 were glad when at eleven o'clock the great white Cathedral of Jaen 
 came into view. The town lying at the foot of a bare, abrupt moun- 
 tain was most unattractive. The diligencia stopped in the market 
 place, and we followed the other passengers to a posada for dinner. 
 The fare was the plainest, and poorest possible. A rank-tasting, 
 rank-smelling stew of goat's flesh, poor, sour bread, poor, sour wine, 
 and garhanzas — small peas — on which we made our dinner. Two 
 pretty young girls with flowers in their hair waited at table and 
 exchanged rude jokes with the rough men they served. 
 
 We went into the handsome Cathedral. The cool air and dim 
 light were grateful and refreshing after the morning's heat and dust 
 and glare. 
 
 An hours' rest and we resumed our journey. Finding the 
 herlina was not occupied you arranged for it with the mayoral saying 
 that the luxury of being able to stretch out your legs, would be worth 
 the diff'erence in cost, for after the first half hour we had found the 
 little seat on top thoroughly uncomfortable. 
 
 At frequent intervals through the day we met members of the 
 Guardia Civile, mounted police wearing long cloaks, peaked caps, and 
 carrying lances. Always two together, they looked as though they 
 might have stepped from the frame of a Velasquez picture. 
 
 The long day had been tiresome and tedious. In a perfect whirl- 
 wind of fine white dust we had driven through a barren, treeless, 
 hideous region, but before we reached Menjibar at half -past five, 
 where we were to join the railroad, the country became attractive. 
 Fine specimens of the cork oak, and beautiful flowers. Tree poppies 
 with hearts of gold, a very riot of honeysuckle and tall thistles 
 bearing amidst their gray-green spines immense flowers of wonderful 
 blue; but over, and above all was the glory of the oleander, blooming 
 everywhere in wild profusion; in the dry bed of streams, on hillsides 
 and in valleys, the tall, slender trees with their exquisitely colored 
 flowers were a dream of beauty. 
 
 "Where oleanders flush'd the bed 
 Of silent torrents, gravel spread," you quoted. 
 
 Memorizing bits of prose and poetry had since our earliest 
 acquaintance been a pleasant pastime with us, and when you repeated 
 Tennyson's lines on the oleander, which I knew so well, I turned to 
 you and said, 
 
 "I always commit to memory more easily and readily than you, 
 why is it then that with apt quotation you are quicker and readier?" 
 
 "Am I ?" you asked indifl'erently. 
 
 Page One Hundred Forty 
 
iMiiiiininiiiHniiiiNiuiiiiiiiHnHiuiiNiiMtiniiiiiiHtiiiiiiiniHiiiiiniiiiiiiimHmninimnmMiniiiiiiHuiiiiwiHiiiiiiiiMniiiiuiHHuniiMiniiriniHiminimiiiminiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aiiiiiiiitHiinMnMrmiiriinininiuiiiiHitiiMnMiiiiiiiniiiMiiiniiiiiiiiiiiimHniiiMMiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiwiiiiiinimiiuiiiniiniiiiiriiiHiitiiiiiiiiiiunniiiinmimmiumH 
 
 "You know you are and I would like to know the reason. Is it 
 genius?" I continued after a pause. 
 
 You looked at me and smiled, then turned your eyes upon the 
 country through which we were passing. 
 
 "Yes," said I, musingly, ''it surely must he genius/* 
 
 Then you laughed outright — a long merry peal of laughter, 
 saying, 
 
 "What funny ideas you do get into that dear little head of 
 yours." 
 
 And memory! what a wonderful thing is memory, that such a 
 fugitive bit of talk should dwell in it forever and forever! 
 
 Of Menjibar we saw nothing but the long, low shed, on a bank 
 of the Guadalquiver where we took the train. At midnight every one 
 was turned out of the cars to walk across the dry, wide bed of a river, 
 the bridge having been condemned as unsafe many months before. 
 At four o'clock next morning we again changed cars and trains, for 
 what reason we could not learn. It had been a most uncomfortable 
 journey. About noon we reached the huerta — meaning a fruit 
 orchard — which surrounds Valencia. In the highest state of culti- 
 vation, and well irrigated, there seemed no limit to its production. 
 Fields of rice and grain, lucerne, vegetables, and in addition to the 
 fig, orange, lemon, olive and almond that we had seen in other fertile 
 regions of Spain, here were peach, pear, apricot, cherry and quince 
 and every tree was abloom. It was a wonderful and beautiful picture 
 of fertility. Sometimes the branches of orange and other fruit trees 
 swept the car windows as we passed, scattering in clouds the fragrant 
 blossoms. 
 
 A Spanish gentleman traveling in our compartment told you 
 that in the huerta, lucerne was mown fifteen times in the course of a 
 year, and that every product grown there yielded in like proportion. 
 
 At four in the afternoon we reached Valencia "after one of the 
 most sultry, exhausting days I ever experienced" my ever ready 
 pencil wrote. 
 
 After a refreshing half hour at the Fonda del Cid, we strolled 
 out on the glorietta, a pleasant promenade, with trees, flowers and 
 fountains. It was the fashionable hour and the promenade was 
 crowded. We both remarked upon the large number of very pretty 
 girls with parents or duennas. 
 
 The following morning before our breakfast, at the suggestion 
 of an agreeable Valencia lady we went to the market. The display 
 of fruit, flowers and vegetables was fine, and such quantities of snails 
 
 Page One Hundred Forty-one 
 
«iiiniiiniinHiiiiiniiiiiiHinitiiiHiiiiHniiiiiiiMntiniiiiiniitiiiniiiiiiuiniiuniHiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiniiiHiHiHiiiniiiuiniiiHiiuiiiiHiHiiiHiiiimiiiraiuimiiiiminiiiHi^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 niiiiiiiiiniiniiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiitiMiHiiiNnuiiiHMitiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiHiiiHiHiHiiiHiiniiHiiiiiiiuiiiuiiiiHiMMUMiiniHHiiniiiiiHiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiuHimi^ 
 
 and frogs; but the most interesting thing to us were the ladies doing 
 their marketing — with maids beside them carrying baskets — and the 
 lively, friendly chatter and bargaining between them and the pictur- 
 esque market men and women. 
 
 In the afternoon we started out for a ride in a tartina. A queer, 
 narrow, two wheeled vehicle with a hood over the top, drawn by one 
 horse — the driver sat on a little seat projecting from the cart, his feet 
 resting on an iron rod attached to the shafts. Suddenly a dry, hot, 
 withering, dust-laden wind began to blow — the hateful sirocco^ and to 
 escape it we returned to the hotel. 
 
 That evening at six we left Valencia and at half -past nine the 
 following morning reached Barcelona, lying in a bare, brown plain 
 with a background of bare, brown mountains. We found the streets 
 thronged with people, and the city full of life and animation. 
 
 The mile long Rambla running through the very heart of the 
 town ; its beautiful avenues of plane trees arched overhead ; its broad 
 central promenade with carriageways on either side, and all the 
 principal hotels, shops, clubs, theaters and cafes on its enclosing 
 streets, was the delightful center of Barcelona life. 
 
 In the upper end of the Rambla each morning a bird and flower 
 market was held. Beautiful flowers ridiculously cheap, and hundreds 
 of cages of canaries singing as though they would split their little 
 golden throats. The market people were a picture. The men all 
 wore short cotton capes of blue, yellow or crimson, and gay handker- 
 chiefs wound around their heads; the women blue dresses and white 
 caps. These picturesque beings moving about among their birds and 
 masses of flowers were like the shifting colors of a kaleidoscope. 
 
 The lower end of the Rambla, the fashionable promenade, term- 
 inated in a delightful terrace overhanging the port. 
 
 In the Cathedral we found beautiful windows of old stained 
 glass, and in the cloisters orange trees of wonderful size, their im- 
 mense boughs bent to the ground by the weight of fruit, — and there 
 was a little grove of geraniums, grown into trees, — and many foun- 
 tains — one that we enjoyed particularly was a queer little equestrian 
 statue — a quaint little knight, on a quaint little horse that spurted 
 jets of water from his nostrils, and had a long jet of water in place 
 of a tail. 
 
 We left Barcelona at seven in the morning and three hours later 
 reached the frontier town of Gerona. There we took a diligencia to 
 cross the Pyrenees. We had spent a happy and delightful month in 
 Spain. 
 
 Page One Hundred Forty-two 
 
miHHUiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniMNiiiitiiinuiiiiniinniniiniiniiiiiiiiiniiiniiiiniiiiiiiiiiMiniiiiiiiiiuiMiitiniiHiiiiinnniniHiiiiiMitininiMiiiiiiiiiiininiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 AMiiimiiHiiiniHiinniMiiniiiiiirHiiniiiiiiiiMiiMiniiiiiiHiiHiiiiiiiiitiiuiiiiniiiMiminininiiiniuinnHiHiiiiHiniiuuiiniiiiiiiHiiiiniiiiiiHiiiMiiiiiniinniniinuiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiii^ 
 
 As our long string of mules toiled up the mountain side, we 
 looked regretfully at the country to which we must say good-by. We 
 talked of the violent contrasts nature presented there. Of the deso- 
 late, treeless, hideous, sun-scorched plains, and the bare, bleak moun- 
 tains, furrowed and seamed by ravines and dry torrent beds, of the 
 heat, the glare and the dust; then of the spots where Nature had 
 lavished every gift of beauty, and fragrance and delicate air, with all 
 the teeming fertility that she could bestow. 
 
 Well over the summit we came upon a custom house and there 
 we changed our Spanish diligencia for a French diligence. I was 
 sorry to lose the picturesqueness of the former, but you said that, to 
 your eyes, the latter looked much more civilized. 
 
 After a tiresome days' travel we reached Perpignan at eleven 
 o'clock. In our room at the Hotel Europe, we congratulated our- 
 selves upon the prospect of a good nights' rest. I was just falling 
 asleep when I was roused by a bird's sweet, mournful, piercing, 
 plaintive notes, and though so different from the joyous song we had 
 heard in the nightingale-haunted groves of the Alhambra, there was 
 no mistaking it. 
 
 In front of the hotel stood a large tree. The wind was high and 
 tossed the branches, one of which was often blown against a window 
 of our room, and on that branch sat a little feathery bunch of a bird 
 pouring out all the troubles of his sorrowful soul to the wild night 
 winds. I was very tired and needed sleep. I thought of raising the 
 window and driving him away, but when I looked at the forlorn 
 little thing swaying \^dth the wind, back and forth, up and down, 
 grieving perhaps for the loss of his mate, I could not find it in my 
 heart to disturb him, so half sleeping, half waking, always conscious 
 of that sweet, tender, plaintive song, the night wore away. 
 
 From Perpignan to Nismes in seven hours through a pleasant 
 country of meadow and vineyard. Settled our traps at the Hotel 
 Luxembourg and went sightseeing. Found Nismes a most delightful 
 city, rich in monuments of antiquity. The ruins of an amphitheater, 
 two city gates — the gate of Augustus particularly fine, and the 
 Maison Caree, a Corinthian temple, a perfect gem of a structure, 
 containing a fine collection of pictures. 
 
 There were lovely walks, the loveliest along a clear stream, under 
 splendid trees to a park. There we found a beautiful tower, "erected 
 to the glory of Augustus." 
 
 The following day, the first of May we drove fifteen miles 
 through a delightful country to the Pont du Gard, a grand Roman 
 
 Page One Hundred Forty-three 
 
MmiiiiHiHniiiirnNiiiHnnHHmHiiniMiiniiuniiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiMHHiuiiiimiHiHHiriiinirniiiwuitiiMiiHiiiiiinniiiiiimiiiHiiiHiiiiiiiiMiiiiitiiininiiMniiuiiiiiMHiHiiiiuiNiiniin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 gnmiiuHiiiiuiiHiiHHiHiHuiuiiniuiiiiiuiiHiuniiiiumiwiwuHiiuuiiuiiuuiimuiHuiiiuiiiiniiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiuuiiiimiiiniiiHuiniiiiiHiiiniiiiiiiiuiNiniiniiiiii^ 
 
 aqueduct built across the valley of the Gardon. One hundred and 
 eighty feet high, in hewn stones uncemented, arch upon arch in three 
 tiers, the upper row hollowed out for the passage of water, which it 
 was still carrying as it had done continuously since its erection. 
 
 We left Nismes eight o'clock the following morning and two 
 hours later passed through Tarascon, where Tartarin the mighty 
 hunter lived. Another hour and we were at Avignon. High on a 
 hill we saw the Palace of the Popes, so immense that it looked like 
 a walled city. You reminded me that we were near Vaucluse, and 
 the garden where Petrarch first saw the lovely Laura for whom he 
 sighed the remainder of his life. 
 
 We reached Lyons at six o'clock and found the city panicky 
 with excitement. Taking advantage of election day the Red Repub- 
 licans had begun by rioting, and ended by taking possession of the 
 Prefecture. In the effort made by the regular troops to dislodge 
 them, thirty persons had been killed. In the night a frenzied mob 
 passed the hotel shouting, shrieking and howling — shrill voices of 
 women mingling with hoarse cries of men. It was a hideous, terrify- 
 ing sound that came from those human throats! They were insur- 
 gents come from another conflict with troops, in which twenty of 
 their number had been killed. 
 
 After breakfast we went to the hotel porter to ask directions 
 for reaching the Museum of Fine Arts. "Monsieur will see no pictures 
 today" he answered, and then we learned that all public buildings 
 and museums were closed and guarded. The Cathedral was near 
 by, but even there we found soldiers at the door. We left the in- 
 hospitable place at six in the evening and reached Geneva at mid- 
 night. 
 
 The bridges, Rosseau's Island, the tree-lined streets, the Cath- 
 edral, the monuments, the shops — all were objects of interest. Shop 
 windows full of wood carving and embroidery — shop windows full 
 of watches. Geneva, you said, was like a vast jeweler's shop. 
 
 We went to the Castle of Chillon, spent an afternoon at Ferney 
 and devoted two days to Vevey, Montreux and Lausanne — places 
 that Rosseau, Voltaire, Gibbon, Byron and others had made famous 
 — and Nature had made them beautiful. 
 
 With a background of sharp, splendid mountains the towns 
 dotted the shore of the Lake, interspersed by turreted castles, villas 
 and terraced gardens. Sailing on the clear, blue waters were fleets of 
 feluccas — little barks with two white, lateen sails, that looked like 
 birds skimming over the surface of the Lake. 
 
 Page One Hundred Forty-four 
 
iiiiiiiiHiiiinimiiniiiiiuiHiiiHiitiirMHHiiiiiiiiiiimiininirniHiitiiiiinuiiiiiiiiiiiiHimmiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiinnnrniiiiiiinMJniininiiiiiiinriiinniinim 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 RiiiiiiiuiuniHHiiiniiiiimuMiiiiiuiiiiiiriirnniniNiiiiiiiiiiiMiniiiiiiimiiiiiiMmmiiiriHiiiiiiiiiininniiuniiriniiiiiriuuiniiimiiiiiiinininiiHininiiiiiiiiniMinniiu 
 
 In the distance was that "Monarch of Mountains," glorious 
 Mont Blanc, its snowy mantle dazzling white under the sun, and 
 faintly pink in the evening glow. 
 
 We were walking one afternoon in a lovely bit of woodland 
 back of Vevey, when to our delight we heard a cuckoo calling. A 
 cuckoo! that "Darling of the Spring!" We wanted to see the bird 
 and spent an hour in search of him, always following the direction 
 from which we thought the "twin notes" came, but never getting any 
 nearer. 
 
 At last you said, "Come along, we must give it up, and ask with 
 Wordsworth," 
 
 "O cuckoo, shall I call thee bird, 
 Or but a wandering voice?" 
 
 And that was what it seemed to be "a wandering voice, an in- 
 visible thing." Long after we had left the woodland behind, we heard 
 "the two fold shout at once far off and near." 
 
 In the small town of Sierre, at midnight, we took a diligence 
 to cross the Alps by the Simplon Pass. It was quite light at three 
 in the morning when we reached Brieg, the beginning of the Pass 
 where we enjoyed a good substantial breakfast. We had seats beside 
 the driver and what a delightful experience it was. Dear! Four 
 horses and two postillions, one on each of the leaders. Air like 
 champagne. Our hearts full of happiness! Ah me! what a day it 
 was ! 
 
 Glorious views of snow clad Alps and the beautiful Valley of 
 the Rhone, alternating with places where the mountains were so 
 crowded together that we could not see beyond the gorge we were in. 
 Glaciers, with streams of water rushing from beneath; cliffs project- 
 ing overhead ; gloomy yawning abysses in whose depths we heard, and 
 had glimpses of foaming torrents; a succession of galleries, where 
 the road was cut through solid rock with apertures made to admit the 
 light; the wild, romantic Ravine of the Gondo, with its lovely water- 
 falls, terminating in a gorge with perpendicular cliffs 2,000 feet 
 high on either side; the small stone houses at frequent intervals, 
 numbered, and marked "Refuge" — asylums for the wayfarer when 
 overtaken by snow or storm, and bridges that looked too frail to 
 bear our weight. 
 
 What a succession of thrills and delights and interest the entire 
 Pass was to us! We saw Nature in many varying aspects that day. 
 Surpassingly lovely, grand, gloomy and terrible. Perhaps the most 
 
 Page One Hundred Forty-Ave 
 
iiHiiiMiiiiiiiiMiiiuiiiiMiinniiiiiMiitiiiiiHiHiniiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiuinnimiiniiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiimminiiiiimniniiiiiiuiiiiiiHUNiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiHiiiiniM 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 ■niiHiiiMiiiiMiiiiniiiiniiiiiiHniininininniuMiininiiiiimitiiiiiiiiniiiimiuiiiimHinmiiiiiimmimimiiiiiiiHminHniuiimiiiimiHiiUMiiinii 
 
 terrible, were the repulsive looking beggars that followed us from 
 Brieg to the summit, all suffering from the hideous, disfiguring 
 goitre. They easily kept up with the diligence and on whichever 
 side we looked we saw those dreadful, afflicted beings. 
 
 At the summit there was a Cross and a Hospice. There, clumsy 
 wooden shoes made from the trunk of a tree grooved to fit were put 
 on the back wheels. The descent from one gorge to another over the 
 narrow zigzag road, often skirting the very edge of a precipice, with 
 walls of rock projecting above and a thunder of torrents below was 
 exciting enough. 
 
 We soon left all traces of snow behind and when we reached the 
 Italian custom house we were in the midst of verdure and wooded 
 hills. Winding in and out among them, we had frequent glimpses 
 of lovely Lake Maggiore. Then came the pretty town of Domo 
 d' Ossola. Its broad streets lined with trees and full of people — its 
 pretty houses, painted in soft tones of yellow, gray or red looked 
 very cheerful. 
 
 For two hours our road ran along the beautiful shore of the 
 Lake and looking back we could see the snowy heads of the Simplon 
 Pass. At nine in the evening the diligence put us down at Arona. 
 
 The following morning we had a pleasant sail on the Lake, 
 stopping at Isola Bella, the most famous of the group of Borromean 
 Islands. The gardens and palace — for centuries a summer residence 
 of the famous Borremeo family — occupied the entire Island. The 
 gardens were laid out in a succession of terraces that formed a 
 pyramid, and rose to a great height. The terraces were adorned 
 with statues and were bright with flowers. 
 
 In the afternoon we went to Milan — three hours by train. We 
 enjoyed the Plain of Lombardy, cultivated like a garden. Mulberry 
 trees, the leaves of which would feed silk- worms — "every tree wedded 
 to a twining vine," and the vines led from one tree to another, with 
 grain growing beneath making a charming picture of summer, in 
 vivid green. 
 
 Reaching Milan we went to the Hotel de France, near the 
 Cathedral; the glorious, magnificent, unique Cathedral! that Tenny- 
 son thus describes, 
 
 "O! the chanting quires. 
 The giant windows' blazon'd fires. 
 The height, the space, the gloom, the glory!" 
 
 Very early next morning, finding me awake, and that I had 
 slept well, you said. 
 
 Page One Hundred Forty-six 
 
wiHnmiimiiuiiniininiiiinuinuiMiiiHMiiniuiiimiiimnMtHiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiitiiMiiiiiiiuiiiiiMiiiiiiinmiinminmiiiiiuniMimiinMniHiinnmHiuiniiiim 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 «iHiitiiiiiiiiiniHiniiiiiinniiniiiinniniiiiiiMiiimuuiniiMmiiHiiiiiliiliiiiiiiiiiiiimiHuiiiniiuininiiHiiiiMinriumiiiinnininiiiiniiuiiiiniiiiniiiiiminmi^ 
 
 "How would you like to climb the roof at break of day and see 
 the sun-smitten Alps?" 
 
 "Oh" I answered, "I knew you would want to follow Tennyson 
 to the Cathedral roof," and there we went before our breakfast. 
 Towards the Alps the horizon was misty, but we had a good view of 
 the Pyrenees. 
 
 Early on the following morning we climbed to the Cathedral roof 
 again and saw the Alps, the great mountain rising from the "sun- 
 smitten" range. At once the lines of Tennyson came from your lips. 
 
 "How faintly flushed, how phantom fair, 
 Was Monte Rosa, hanging there." 
 
 And what a wonderful and interesting place the Cathedral roof 
 was! with hundreds of turrets and thousands of pinnacles, each 
 crowned with a figure of heroic size and beautiful finish. A veritable 
 forest of statues! The plain below, divided in squares by mulberry 
 trees, and dotted with white villages was a pretty sight. 
 
 We found many beautiful pictures scattered about in the differ- 
 ent Art Galleries, and in the refectory of a Convent, saw the fine, 
 but almost obliterated fresco of The Last Supper by di Vinci. We 
 admired the white marble arch adorned with statues and crowned by 
 Peace and Victory, that marked the terminus of the Simplon Road; 
 also the unfinished Victor Emmanuel Gallery. 
 
 On the morning we were to leave Milan for the Lake of Como 
 a steady rain was falling that persisted for three days and nights 
 without pause. Standing at a window one afternoon, looking down 
 upon a table-land of moving umbrellas; 
 
 "Let us take a cab and go to La Scala Theater — I should like 
 to see the interior," you said. 
 
 What a time you had making the man in charge of the Theater 
 understand that we wanted to look within — he assuring you there 
 was nothing there to see. At last he opened a door and we peered 
 into the vast, dark, musty-smelling place. Then you asked for 
 "luce, luce" but there was no response until you struck a match. That 
 illumined the man's brain, and with a "Si, si Signore" he disappeared, 
 returning with a small candle and by its feeble rays we saw the 
 interior of the far-famed La Scala Theater with its six tiers of boxes. 
 
 A fourth rainy morning and even you, my dear Philosopher, had 
 no words of cheer or comfort, but towards noon the sky cleared and 
 we started for the Lake. At Como, unfortunately we had two hours 
 to wait for a boat. 
 
 Page One Hundred Forty-seven 
 
•iMiiiiiiiiiiiiiniMnutiiinrinnMniiMniitiiirnniinininiiiniiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiniiriHiiiiiiiiiiinnininiiiiniiiiMiiHiiiiiiiNiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiitiiiuiiiiiiitiiiiiitiiniii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 •uiiiiiiniiiiiiiiuiiniiiiiininniiiiiininnniiiininiiitiiiiiiiiNiiiniiiniimiiniiiiiNiimiiiiiiiiiiiiinuiimuiiiiinninriiiniiHiiiiiininiiniiiiiHniiimiiiimiiirHii 
 
 We looked into the handsome marble Cathedral, saw a remark- 
 able, old church and then wandered about the streets. 
 
 Como at that time was quite a center for the manufacture of 
 silk. The different mills had shops in which to show their products, 
 and the display in the windows was so tempting that you could not 
 resist it and said, 
 
 "I am going to buy you some silk for a dress." 
 
 I objected — I did not need it and did not want it. 
 
 As we were both persistent, you ended the discussion, by saying, 
 
 "Very well! I am going to buy the silk and if the shade does 
 not please, you have only yourself to blame." 
 
 Then together we made the selection — a very pretty shade ; light 
 rather than medium. 
 
 Really mine, I felt great pride in the possession, and after it was 
 packed away in my trunk I took many a sly, admiring look at it, 
 decided how it should be made, and could almost see myself in it. 
 
 One circumstance after another postponed the making up of the 
 silk, and when two years later a fashion plate was chosen, and a dress- 
 maker engaged, sad to relate, every fold of the silk was so badly cut 
 that it was actually worthless, the inner folds, where the pressure was 
 greatest falling apart when opened. What seemed richness of 
 texture was produced by dye that had destroyed the fabric, and all 
 those yards of silk that were to go for my adornment, went into 
 patches for quilts, and dolls' dresses for my little friends, the half 
 yard between the folds being in good condition. 
 
 From Como a boat carried us in two hours to Bellagio where we 
 spent three happy, delicious days. Nature was at its very best. The 
 nightingales sang day and night and the flowers were wonderful. In 
 the garden of a villa stood a magnificent group of rhododendron trees 
 of the Himalayan variety — ^the rhododendron barbatum — from 35 to 
 40 feet in height and masses of lovely bloom. Acres of shrub rhodo- 
 dendrons and azaleas dazzling in color, tree poppies, tree peonies, 
 miles of wisteria covered walls, lilacs and other flowers in endless 
 variety. 
 
 On the beautiful mountain encircled Lake, under bright awnings, 
 rowed from one lovely spot to another, what blissful hours we spent, 
 Dear Heart of mine! Past bold promontories, in and out of little 
 bays, the shores dotted with villas and gardens where often we saw 
 flowers reflected in the clear waters, and heard the song of the night- 
 
 Page One Hundred Forty-eight 
 
•iiHiiiHntiiiiniHiiiniiiiniiiiiiHiiinniHiiiiHiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiimiNiiiiiHinniiiinHiiiiiMiiiiiniiiiiiiiinmMiniMitiiinmniiitmiiiiiniinniH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iimiiHiiMnimiiiuiniMiniiininiiiiiJMniinHniNiiniiiiinininnHmniiiimiiiHiiiHiuiiHiHniiiiiiniiiimiiniiiiMiiiuiiMiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiuiiMiiiiiiMiiniu 
 
 ingale; time and again in those heavenly spots, one or other of us, 
 would repeat Longfellow's lines, 
 
 "I ask myself is it a dream? 
 Will it all vanish into air? 
 Is there a land of such supreme, 
 And perfect beauty anywhere?" 
 
 When we left our hotel — ^the Grand Bretain — at 5 P. M. the sky 
 was overcast, and a wind had arisen. While waiting at the boat land- 
 ing we noticed little waves chasing each other over the surface of the 
 Lake that for three days had smiled and dimpled before our eyes. 
 The wind increased, the waves grew, and soon our little steamer was 
 rolling and pitching like a ship at sea in a storm, while on her small 
 deck sea-sick passengers were standing at the rail surveying the 
 waters beneath. Next to me — a companion in misery — was a pretty, 
 young German bride, and an adoring and almost frantic husband, 
 vainly trying to hold her head. 
 
 You came and asked, "Can I do anything for you?'* 
 
 I answered "Yes, go away, please, and let me alone — I can hold 
 my own head," but I did give you my hat to hold. 
 
 Colico was a poor, mean little place, but I was glad indeed to set 
 my feet upon its solid ground. There, eleven o'clock at night we took 
 a diligence to cross the Alps by the Splugen Pass. From the first 
 gray streak of dawn, there was something of beauty to delight the 
 eye, or some wonderful bit of Nature's handiwork to marvel at. We 
 saw blocks of granite piled piece on piece, one on top of another, 
 until the uppermost seemed to touch the very skies. 
 
 The Via Mala was a narrow, gloomy gorge, the sky line broken 
 by rocks ragged and torn, rising on both sides to a height varying 
 from 1,500 to 2,000 feet, with bridges and tunnels and grooves cut 
 along the face of the rock; and from that grooved road we saw 200 
 feet below, the river Rhine forced through a fissure so narrow that at 
 times the sides seemed almost to meet — a boiling, roaring torrent, 
 foaming and struggling like an imprisoned Giant to free himself! 
 It was awful and wonderful! Twice we crossed that wicked looking 
 gorge on bridges that seemed all unequal to their task, and caused 
 me to hold my breath through fear. 
 
 After leaving the gorge we entered a long wooded ravine where 
 the waters of the Rhine fell in numberless lovely cascades. As on the 
 Simplon Pass we had two postillions riding the leaders of our team 
 of four horses, and the same clumsy wooden shoes fastened to the 
 
 Page One Hundred Forty-nine 
 
■MiiniinnniiiNiniminiiinHiiiiiiHHiMiiMtnttinitinniiiniininmiiiwiniinmiiiHimimMiiiniMiiiHHniHttnrntinitiiintHiNiriiiinniiiiiiiiimiHnHinmitiHiimiinHiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 •uiiiuiiiiiiuiiiuuuiiiiiiiiniHiiiiniiiiininiiiiiiniiiiiHJiiiiMiiiniiiiimuiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiirtiiinnnNiiiiminiiiiitiiiimiuimiiiiiiiu 
 
 wheels after we had crossed the summit.. We had the same keen 
 appetite for the substantial three o'clock breakfast, and enjoyed the 
 mid-day meal at an Hospice where brown-robed, sad-faced, sandalled 
 monks gave us welcome* 
 
 In after years, carried through the long tunnels we always talked 
 of the two happy days in that far off time when we crossed the Alps 
 by diligence over the Simplon and Splugen Passes. 
 
 The following morning we crossed Lake Constanz to Lindau on 
 our way to Munich, stopping for two hours at the old town of 
 Augsburg. The quaint architecture and the fronts of the houses 
 painted with family portraits and scenes depicting Bible stories were 
 a study. Before the "Fugger Haus," a large building, the home of 
 an immensely rich man, with the entire facade an elaborate and 
 artistic fresco we should have liked to remain for hours. 
 
 We spent a week in Munich, that delightful Bavarian City, 
 enjoying the noble collections of art, housed in noble buildings; 
 paintings by the old Masters, and of the modern school; sculpture 
 ancient and of a recent period; monuments^ beautiful fountains, 
 statues, and the pleasantly shaded streets. 
 
 We drove out to see Swanthaler's statue of Bavaria. By flights 
 of stairs within the monument you reached the head and waved your 
 hat to me through an aperture in the forehead nearly 100 feet from 
 the ground. We visited the Royal Foundry and were shown by the 
 manager the process of casting the beautiful bronze statues, so many 
 of which adorn the City. 
 
 We went to the beer gardens ! Our visit to the Hoff brauhaus at 
 the popular hour! what an experience it was! A large hall where 
 over five hundred people were seated at tables — men, women, chil- 
 dren and a sprinkling of strangers, like ourselves. Every one 
 entered through a spacious ante-room, took up a stone mug, with a 
 metal lid, that held a quart, washed it under a tap of running water, 
 carried it to a man who filled it from a cask, paid for it and then 
 found a seat in the hall. 
 
 We sat diagonally opposite each other; you raised your stein, 
 looked at me and smiled; I understood that you wanted to drink my 
 health; I smiled back, put up the lid of my stein and took a little sip 
 of the bitter, and to me unpalatable stuff. At once a young woman 
 pounced upon my mug of beer, whisked it away, brought it back and 
 stood waiting beside me, I did not know for what. You tossed a 
 coin across the table that paid for the beer and gave the hateful 
 waitress a fee. A German sitting near me said, 
 
 Page One Hundred Fifty 
 
•mtmNiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiuniiiiinMiHiiiiiiiiiiHiiHiiiHiiiiiniiiiiHriiiiiHiiiiHtiiiiiiinHiiiiiiiwiiiiiiiiiinniniiiiiniiHiiiinmmiMiHmHiiHmmiMHiiHimHinmin^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aHiiuiimiiinmiuHiiiiiiuiiniiiiiuiiiiiiiiininHMiiiiiuiHiniiiiiiiiiiHimuiiiiimiiiiniiiHiiiiiMiiiiiiiiHiMiminiiriiiiinrniiiiiiuiiimiiinniniiiMHHiMin 
 
 "You left your stein open— that meant that you wanted it 
 fiUed." 
 
 "But it was full," I answered. He shrugged his shoulders and 
 laughed; every one near me, you included, laughed, while I was too 
 vexed to join in the mirth. 
 
 We left Munich and our excellent hotel — The Four Seasons — 
 with regret, and journeyed on to Salzburg, delightfully situated on 
 both sides of a pleasant river, with a background of fine mountains. 
 We walked up to the Castle — Hohensalzburg — and saw the sun set 
 over a country of great beauty. 
 
 The next day was Whitsunday, there called pinkster and ob- 
 served as a great holiday. Ah, Dear Heart, Dear Heart, what a red 
 letter day is was for us! We drove to the Koenig See fifteen miles 
 distant through a lovely country. Mountain streams fringed with 
 trees, meadows gemmed with flowers, wooded hills, and always be- 
 yond, a mountain with radiant snow-clad summit. 
 
 The day was glorious, with bright sunshine, a fresh breeze and 
 the bluest of skies flecked with soft, fleecy white clouds. The roads 
 were astir with peasants dressed in the picturesque Tyrolean costume. 
 The women and little girls in white bodices, short full skirts, and red, 
 green or blue stockings. The men and boys in short jackets, breeches 
 that ended at the knees, coarse stockings that ended at the ankles, and 
 low, clumsy shoes. Every man and boy wore a high, green velvet hat 
 decorated with a cock's feather or a bunch of flowers, and every man, 
 and every boy except those of very tender years was smoking a 
 porcelain pipe. 
 
 The large beer gardens we passed were full of people, seated at 
 long tables eating and drinking beer, or playing games — dancing 
 around the May pole was the prettiest and seemed the most popular. 
 
 When we reached the Koenig See we were put down at a boat 
 landing in charge of a uniformed Schiffmeister. The tariff arranged, 
 he blew a whistle, and a boat from the many clustered around, ap- 
 proached, rowed by two comely young women whose firm, strong 
 arms were bare to the shoulders. 
 
 The great depth of the Lake gave the clear, limpid water a deep 
 sea-green hue, and gliding over the smooth surface we sat fairly 
 enchanted by the beauty and grandeur around us. Walled in by 
 mountains that towered from 5,000 to 8,000 feet in height; some rose 
 abruptly from the water and others left a narrow strip of foreground. 
 On these small plateaus were buildings for the comfort and enter- 
 tainment of mankind. Most conspicuous was the hunting seat of the 
 
 Page One Hundred Fifty-one 
 
aimimmiMHiiimiMniiHiiiiiDtiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiii iiiniiiiiiiiHiiiiMiiiiiiHUiniiiuiiiinniiiriiititiiniiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiHNiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiHiiiimiHmNiiNininiMmmiiHmniima 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 mMiiniiHmiuiuiiniiniiHiiriiiiiiiiuiniiiiiniMiiuiuiniiinuniiiiniininuuiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiHnniiiiiuiiriiinMiiiinumiMHiuiiinmiuiiiiiiniiiiHiHiiiMnimHiHiimw 
 
 King of Bavaria, in whose domain the beautiful Lake lay. There 
 were charming chalets of the Bavarian nobility, and equally charming 
 garden restaurants for the delectation of the public — all on the waters 
 edge with trees and flowers, kiosks and boat houses, they made a 
 pretty sight. Streams came hurrying from the hills to rest in the 
 peaceful Lake, and waterfalls tumbled joyously from heights above; 
 one particularly lovely, fell over masses of red rock a distance of 
 2,600 feet. 
 
 And what a sociable Lake it was! From a half, to a mile in 
 width; five miles in length with a graceful bend, the home of a most 
 melodious echo. Young men and maidens in holiday attire were 
 rowing in all directions making the air vocal with laughter and with 
 song. As we reached the turn in the Lake, a young man with a 
 clear, strong voice was singing a Swiss yodel. He would sing two or 
 three notes which the echo would twice repeat. The effect w^as so 
 musical that we waited — our comely young women resting on their 
 oars — until the song was ended, and the last faint echo had died away. 
 
 Midway in our circuit of the Lake we stopped at a delightful 
 garden restaurant for lunch. Did we want trout, the smiling land- 
 lord asked, "ja wohl, ja wohl" — certainly, certainly — we answered in 
 unison. 
 
 In a large tank on the margin of the Lake dozens of plump fish 
 were swimming. Our host netted one after another until you stopped 
 him, I remarking that we could never eat the half of those captured. 
 Then we went to a rose embowered arbor to rest and wait. Our 
 lunch came, nicely served, the fish cooked to perfection. Oh, those 
 trout! how delicious they were! and what appetites we had! disposing 
 of every one that was netted and served. 
 
 From the Lake we drove to Berchtesgaden, a charming summer 
 resort. Near by were the Hallein salt mines that we were to include 
 in our days' sightseeing, although no work would be going on. Upon 
 arrival we were given dressing-rooms containing the necessary cloth- 
 ing. Trousers of leather and rubber cloth, short tunic and cap of 
 rubber cloth and rubber shoes. What comical looking objects we 
 were! and how everybody laughed at every other body! 
 
 The descent was made in a most primitive way. Thick, narrow 
 boards worn smooth as glass with props beneath led to the regions 
 below. Behind a large man whose heavy gloves covered strong 
 hands that grasped a rope and were to act as a brake, we ranged our- 
 selves astride, upon the polished board, you next to the pilot, I next 
 to you. Behind me three ladies; back of them .their husbands, and 
 
 Page One Hundred Fifty-two 
 
mmiiiiiinniiniiiiniiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiinniiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimniHinnimiiniiiiiiiiHiiiiiHHiiiiHiinmuniiiiiiiiiiniiiimMnniiiiuiiiiniiiiiiimH^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 niiiHiiiuiniinMiiiuuiiiHiiniiiiioiiiiiiiiininiHiiiiiiiiiuiniiiniiiiiiiiiiiNiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiHiiiiinuiiNiiiiunniiMiiiinitiniuiiiiuiiuiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiniMUHiiiMii^ 
 
 at the end, a handsome Austrian officer. We shot down the steep 
 indine of several hundred feet into what seemed the very bowels of 
 the Earth, our way lighted only by murky torches. We passed gal- 
 leries and excavations, and thankful that our brake had not failed us, 
 reached our destination. 
 
 We were given torches and like veritable gnomes, went peering 
 about to see the different strata a guide called attention to. 
 
 We were rowed across a small salt water lake, clambered up 
 ladders, and by a steep path reached the exit. There, in dressing- 
 rooms we found the clothing we had taken off at the entrance to the 
 mine. Our carriage was waiting and we were soon homeward bound. 
 
 From Salzburg we returned to Munich and from Munich went 
 to Frankfort; an eight hours journey on a cold, rainy day. For six 
 days the rain fell without intermission. We drove in the rain to see 
 Dannecker's lovely statue of Ariadne seated on a tiger; we drove in 
 the rain to the beautiful Palm Garden; we drove in the rain past the 
 magnificent homes of the wealthy bankers and merchants and in the 
 rain we looked at the statues of Goethe and Schiller and the Guten- 
 berg Monument. 
 
 We went to the Opera House to hear Faust. The performance 
 commenced two hours before the set of sun. The Opera was well 
 sung. All around us were people taking keen enjoyment in the 
 music while eating a supper of bread, cheese and sausage which they 
 had brought. The men drank beer, and when the supper was finished 
 most of the women fell to knitting. 
 
 On the seventh day although the sun did not shine, no rain fell 
 and we went to Hombourg, famous for the health-giving waters of 
 its many sparkling brunnen, and as a place for gambling; the resort 
 of invalids and pleasure seekers from all parts of the world. 
 
 We found the waters agreeable and the Cursaal luxurious. The 
 walls and ceilings of the gambling rooms were decorated with beauti- 
 ful frescoes, and the spacious reading rooms were bright with paint- 
 ings and furnished in the richest manner, while in the concert room 
 an excellent band rendered delightful music. 
 
 The play of rouge et noir interested us very much. People 
 closely seated at a long table, tense with excitement over their play, 
 and back of them a fringe of people standing; some simply looking 
 on, others playing over the shoulders of those seated. Some distance 
 apart we watched the game for a considerable time. 
 
 When you turned from the table I joined you. The inborn 
 
 Page One Hundred Fifty-three 
 
>MNiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiHiiiiiitiiiiiii iiiMiiiiiiiiniiuiiiiiiiniunuiHiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiHHiiniiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiirtiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiNiHiMnmnn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiHiHiiiiiiiuiinuiiiiiiiiiiitiiHiiriiuMiiiiiiiiiiiiiniMinininiiiiiiiiiiniiiMiiiiininiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiuiiiiiiiuiimitiiMniiiiiniuMiuHiiiiiniiiiiiiiuiniiiiiiiiiiH 
 
 instinct for gambling strong upon me, I asked coaxingly, "Wouldn't 
 
 you like to try your luck?" 
 
 You answered "No, I have no money to lose in that way." 
 "But it is such an easy way to make money," I argued, "I have 
 
 been watching a woman who won constantly." 
 
 "And I have been watching a man who has lost constantly," you 
 replied. 
 
 "Suppose I try my luck'' said I. 
 
 But you, "No, come along! Dame Fortune is a fickle jade. We 
 wont have anything to do with her." 
 
 We left Frankfort and went down the tame, little valley of the 
 Main to Castel where we took a Rhine steamer. My first impression 
 of the famous river was one of disappointment. The vine clad hills, 
 where every foot of accessible land was cultivated were not so pretty 
 to look at as wooded hills, and I took but a luke-warm interest in the 
 far-famed Rhenish wines you told me of. Hockheimer, Johannis- 
 berger, and many another heimer and berger; not even in Rudes- 
 heimer made from grapes that Charlemagne was said to have intro- 
 duced from Burgundy; but when we reached Bingen "Fair Bingen 
 on the Rhine" and I saw the Mouse Tower, and we recalled Southey's 
 poem of Bishop Hatto, I was all enthusiasm. 
 
 From there, the river narrowed and became winding. On both 
 sides were prettily wooded hills, many rising abruptly to a consider- 
 able height and crowned with castles and towers ; restored, or in ruins, 
 all delightfully picturesque and all connected in some way with his- 
 tory, romance or legend. Tales of marauders and lovers; tales of 
 daring and valor; of devotion and revenge; of loyalty and treachery. 
 
 Ah! Dear! how we did enjoy reading those fascinating stories 
 as we passed one after another the tree-embowered masses of masonry 
 where the scenes were laid. Rising from the water were the com- 
 manding Rocks of the Lurlei, home of the Nymph who lured sailors 
 and fishermen to their destruction and we recalled lines of Heine's 
 poem and his charming word picture of the Nymph combing her 
 golden hair. 
 
 We left the steamer at Lahnstein and by train a half hour ride 
 up the pretty valley of the Lahn to Ems, a delightful watering- 
 place, the favorite summer resort of King William and other crowned 
 heads. 
 
 We went to Ems for two or three days, and remained over three 
 weeks, a prey to what Tennyson called "the needful trouble of the 
 rain." During the time of our forced stay there were only two rain- 
 
 Page One Hundred Fifty-four 
 
wiitHiHuiiiiiunHiiiiwiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiitiMiiHinniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiWHiniiiimiHiiHiiiHHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinuiniiriHiiiiniiitHiiinMiiniiiiiiriiiimninimiMiiiiM 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 miiMiimiuiimHimiiiuHiiiMiiniiiMMiiinnniMiriuHnNiiiiniiiiriuiininiiMiiNiiiiiiiniimiiiiHiuiiiiniiiiiiiiniiiiniiiMuiMiminniiniiiiinuuniiinniniiiiiuMiuniiiiimtiii^ 
 
 less days. On both those days we took long rambles on the wooded 
 hillsides gathering bunches of lily of the valley that grew in great 
 profusion, and afterwards got together our belongings thinking that 
 tomorrow we would journey on, but on the morrow we would look 
 out upon another deluge. 
 
 At the comfortable Cursaal we had access to all the leading 
 Continental papers and we scanned their pages day after day hoping 
 to find some place where the sun was shining, but no ! it was rain, rain 
 everywhere rain, so there was nothing to do but be content. Every 
 morning we put on our Mackintosh coats and rubber shoes, then 
 under umbrellas went to the popular spring, where protected by 
 arcades, from half -past six to eight o'clock we mingled with the 
 throng, drank the waters, walked and listened to the music. There 
 was an excellent circulating library from which for a small sum you 
 secured the privilege of taking books; afternoons and evenings there 
 was music in the Cursaal and so with music, books and games of 
 chess, we passed the weeks of that "sunless June" in such a way that 
 ever after they were a sunny memory. 
 
 July 4 and your birthday, my Beloved. We took a steamer at 
 Lahnstein, where we had disembarked and continued down the 
 Rhine; past Ehrenbreitstein, an immense mass of rock converted by 
 man into an impregnable fortress; then a succession of those charm- 
 ing, castle-crowned hills each with its story of fact or fancy until we 
 came to the last — the renowned Drachenfels, bearing on its summit 
 ruins of the castle that had served the "Robbers of the Rhine" as 
 fortress and watchtower, of which Byron wrote, 
 
 "The castled crag of Drachenfels 
 Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine." 
 
 We passed Bonn, noted for its University; after that until we 
 reached Cologne the river banks were flat and uninteresting. 
 
 But what a river it is! that noble river of the Fatherland! the 
 storied Rhine! No wonder the Germans love it and sing its praise; 
 with its vine-clad hills, its islands and tributaries, its crags and castles 
 and towers and all the romantic, legendary lore connected with it ! 
 
 At cologne we had completed a large circuit of the Continent. 
 We paid our respects to the grand Cathedral and the following day 
 went to Amsterdam. 
 
 Germany and Holland, how unlike they were! The queer, un- 
 gainly costumes of the people, the network of canals, the herds of 
 handsome cattle standing knee deep in the lush grass, the blooming 
 flower beds around the small country homes with red tiles on their 
 
 Page One Hundred Fifty-five 
 
niiinininmiuiinniiiiinniiiMmiinHinninniiiiiiiinuiiiniiinniiniiimmiiiimiiiiHiMMiiiiiiiiniiniiimnnniiiuiiMinnMiirniiiiiiiiiiiniininiiiniiiiiiiiimMniiMi^^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiinHiiiiHinniiiminuiimHiiiiiHiniiiiuiiMUiinuiininimiuiiininimiiiiiniiHiHiiiniiiiiiHiiHniiiiiuiiiinnniiuiinniHniiiittiuiiiiiunininitiiHiiiiiniiniiiu 
 
 pointed roofs and the long, gaunt, restless arms of many windmills 
 made a picture strange to our eyes. 
 
 Amsterdam, with one hundred canals, full of shipping, and three 
 hundred bridges, captivated us by the novelty of its attractions. 
 Long rows of high brick houses with gabled fronts; above the attic 
 windows a projecting beam to which a rope and pulley were attached. 
 We watched the working of those puUies with interest and amuse- 
 ment for everything to provision a house was taken in through the 
 attic window. Large packages and small, barrels, kegs, furniture and 
 commodities of every sort and kind ; at the sides of many houses small 
 mirrors were attached that reflected the streets and the people that 
 were passing. 
 
 The streets on which the wealthy residents lived were unique and 
 delightful, their handsome houses facing the broad tree-fringed 
 canals. Plying on these canals from place to place were fine long 
 boats, the homes of the owners and their families. Spic and span and 
 very attractive were the decks. The low brass railings that complete- 
 ly surrounded them were polished to the highest degree of brightness 
 and long narrow beds of tulips gave them a homelike charm. In and 
 out of small cabins with prettily curtained windows, busy housewives 
 were bustling and children in wooden shoes clattered about playing 
 with toys. What funny looking little tots they were! the boys with 
 wide spreading breeches like their fathers; the girls — ^their mothers 
 and grandmothers in miniature — in full skirts reaching to the ankles, 
 and the quaintest of little caps upon their heads. 
 
 As the shades of evening fell, the boats were tied up for the 
 night and grown-ups and children enjoyed the city streets. No 
 vehicles were in circulation and the entire populace seemed to be on 
 the streets so densely were they packed. Hand organs were so 
 numerous that as we strolled along, before we lost the sound of one, 
 we heard that of another, and around them all, men, women and chil- 
 dren were dancing. 
 
 One afternoon we went to the Zoological Gardens where we 
 heard an excellent concert. As the people came and seated them- 
 selves, they placed small parcels upon the tables they had chosen. 
 Just before the concert commenced the parcels were unwrapped and 
 our curiosity gratified. They contained food in variety and tea; the 
 establishment furnishing only an attractive tea service, and kettles of 
 boiling water. 
 
 An hours' sail over the Zuyder Zee one pleasant day took us to 
 the quaint little village of Zaandam. The small wooden houses were 
 
 Poge One Hundred Fifty-six 
 
«nmHiiiuninmMimiiiiiritNiHNiiiMnitnititiniiiMiMriiriitHiiriiiiiiiiiHiHiiiiHiiiiiHrmtiMtrniniiiiHiHNiiiiiHtiiMHtMmHiiiriiiiiinHniiiiHMiruiiHiiiintMiiMHmntimitiiiiifHHin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 miHHiininiiiutiniiiiiMiiinrnuiuiirMiiitMininnniiHiiiiniiHirinir»niitiuniMiimiHMiiiniHiniiuiuiMiinuuiint»iiuiiiimmninuiiNii>iiiniiiMiiH«HiiuiiiHiiniiiiiHHmntmnii^ 
 
 all painted green or red and surrounded by beds of tulips and hya- 
 cinths. We saw the house — or rather hut — in which Peter the Great 
 lived while learning how to build ships, and many of the 400 wind- 
 mills, for which Zaandam was famous, some with sails and immensely 
 long arms. 
 
 Our pleasure was marred by the curious crowd that hemmed us in 
 and followed us everywhere — children and grown up women, some 
 with babies in their arms. We soon discovered that it was our speech 
 that interested them. Whenever either of us spoke those nearest 
 would shout with laughter and they fought with one another for the 
 privilege of walking in front of us. 
 
 In the Museum at Amsterdam we found many beautiful 
 examples of the Dutch and Flemish Masters of painting. 
 
 At our hotel, the Amstel, we first fell in with the custom that 
 prevailed at all the hotels in Holland where we stopped of serving 
 cheese for breakfast. It was the small, round, red Edam cheese, 
 made only for home consumption; rich in cream and of such con- 
 sistency that it spread like butter. 
 
 In the Museum at the Hague we enjoyed the unrivalled collec- 
 tion of pictures by the Dutch Masters with their wonderful effects of 
 light and shadow. We enjoyed the lovely shaded promenade lined 
 with elegant homes, and the noble park lying in the very heart of the 
 city containing beech trees of wonderful size. The home of the 
 Queen — the House in the Woods — was ideal. In its setting of forest 
 trees, surrounded by parterres of choicest flowers, above which hov- 
 ered hundreds of brilliant butterflies, the air musical with the song of 
 birds, it seemed an almost heavenly spot on that glorious summer day. 
 
 From the Hague to Rotterdam, losing gradually all the char- 
 acteristics that had made Holland such a delight. The cottages with 
 ghstening brick walls lined by beds of tuHps; the chimneys rising 
 from thatched roofs where storks stood beside their nests feeding the 
 hungry brood within; the windmills in their endless variety of size 
 and construction, from those that were ordinary, to the great objects 
 that did the work of steam engines, with sails on their long arms that 
 often measured 100 feet (so we were told by an agreeable Mynheer 
 who spoke English and traveled with us for an hour) . 
 
 But Holland was not always a delight. Stamped upon our 
 memories were pictures that we saw too often to forget. A woman 
 and a dog dragging a heavy cart along a dusty road ! A woman with 
 a yoke upon her shoulders bent beneath the weight she carried ! Poor 
 things! Many wore at the back of the head big, stiff*, black bows 
 
 Page One Hundred Fifty-seven 
 
liHniinimmiimnniiuiiiiiiinitiiiiinnnitMininiiiniuiiiiiiiiiiniiinniitiniinnMiHiniiiinniuninnniiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiniiiniiinninHiiiiniiiniMiiinniiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 miniiiiiiiiiiiitiiimiuiHiiiiiniiiiiiiinHiiiiiiiininiiiMnniiinntiiniiiiiiiuiinuMimumiiNiiiuiiiMiiiniHiiiiimiiiniiutiiiiHiiniiiiinniiinHniiiiininniiiiiim 
 
 that stood out like the wings of a bat and gave them the drollest 
 possible appearance. 
 
 Rotterdam looked busy and prosperous, with fine merchant ships 
 loading and unloading at the quays. As elsewhere in Holland a pipe 
 was in the mouth of every man ; all the adult male population seemed 
 to be engaged in coloring meerschaums. Some of the pipes were so 
 elaborately and beautifully carved that they were really works of art. 
 
 In the market place we saw a bronze statue of Erasmus — a good 
 statue but in an unfortunate location ; piled high around the base were 
 fruits, vegetables and cheap pottery. 
 
 We took a steamer at the mouth of the river Maas for Antwerp. 
 We went through many branches of that most uninteresting river, 
 through canals, open reaches and at last into the "lazy Scheldt." 
 Nine hours of the most tedious traveling between flat banks where 
 most of the country was below sea level and protected by dykes. 
 
 Our first visit was to the Cathedral ; an immense and magnificent 
 Gothic Church with a lofty tower of the most delicate workmanship. 
 Like Mechlin lace, Napoleon said. Near the foot of the tower, over 
 an old well, was the beautiful wrought iron canopy executed by 
 Quentin Matsys, a young blacksmith of Louvain, who fell in love 
 with the daughter of an Antwerp painter. Rejected by the father, 
 because of his occupation, he abandoned the anvil, became an artist of 
 renown and won his bride. 
 
 Inside the Cathedral we saw that masterpiece of Rubens The 
 Descent from the Cross, and in a square opposite the Cathedral a 
 bronze statue of Rubens as a young debonair man. 
 
 In the museum and churches we enjoyed pictures by those 
 great Masters of painting who were natives of Antwerp. 
 
 The following day we went to Brussels, stopping at Ghent. We 
 saw the famous Belfry Tower surmounted by a copper dragon and 
 strolled along the wide, pleasant streets admiring the handsome, old- 
 fashioned houses. 
 
 We went to a broker's office for money upon your letter of 
 credit. We found a very pretty young girl in charge who spoke 
 English fluently. She said her father was out, but that she would 
 attend to the matter. From my seat of observation I wondered how 
 a girl so young and so pretty could transact business in such a prac- 
 tical way and be so devoid of consciousness and coquetry. As we 
 went out she returned my bow with supreme indifference, but — 
 womankind, oh womankind! she gave you a smile that would have 
 turned the head of any man not well balanced and anchored. 
 
 Page One Hundred Fifty-eight 
 
MiiiriMniiiuniiiiiniiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiHiiHniiiiiiiniimiiiiinHiiininniniiiiiiiiniiiiiniiiiininninniiiniiiiiiiniiiiiHiiiiiinniitiiuiiiHiiiiiiiHiiiitiiniiiiiininniiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 MiimiiiiiHiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiinniniiiiiniiiniiininiiiiiiiiiiiniuiiiHiiiinniinmiiiiniiiiHininitiiiiiiiiiiiniuniiniininmuiiuiiniiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiium 
 
 In traveling that day we were delighted by white water lilies 
 that bloomed in great profusion in all the many streams that ran near 
 our road. 
 
 We thought Brussels an attractive city in winter; in summer it 
 was delightful. The fountains that we had left ice-bound now tossed 
 their waters in the sun-warmed air. Trees in the splendid city park 
 wore all the pomp of summer; birds sang joyously in their branches 
 and Brussels, aiFectionately called "Little Paris," was the gayest and 
 brightest of cities. 
 
 Every morning the dear Old Square was a garden full of flowers 
 and blooming plants and the same walls that had sheltered us from 
 an icy wind now protected us from the rays of an ardent sun. We 
 ate ices, bought gloves, and laces that were commissions for San 
 Francisco friends, and one small choice bit I must have for myself. 
 
 We spent a delightful day in Bruges that Middle- Age City so 
 quaint, so beautiful and full of interest. We crossed bridge after 
 bridge of the numerous canals, always seeing beyond some curious bit 
 of jaj-chitecture that drew us on and on, recalling what Wordsworth 
 said ; that the spirit of antiquity was enshrined at Bruges ; and Thack- 
 ery wrote, of all the quaint and pretty places I have ever seen Bruges 
 is the quaintest and prettiest; and Longfellow sung of the chimes in 
 the old belfry, 
 
 "the beautiful, wild chimes. 
 Low and loud and sweetly blended." 
 
 The Carillons of Belgium were a joy. They were in the steeples 
 of churches, in clock towers and in town halls, so we were seldom out 
 of the musical chiming of bells. 
 
 On the 14th of July we went to Paris. From our windows at the 
 Hotel Meurice, we looked across the Rue de Rivoli to the Tuileries 
 Garden and saw green, waving branches of healthy trees instead of 
 charred and blackened stumps that sensational newspapers had led 
 us to expect. 
 
 At that period of time Elihu Washburn was Ambassador from 
 the United States to France. Mr. Washburn enjoyed the distinction 
 of having been the only Ambassador who remained in Paris during 
 the stormy days of the Commune. He acted as representative of 
 many foreign countries including — at Bismarck's request — the differ- 
 ent German States. The labor had been great and the arduous duties 
 had kept him in Paris till the previous week when he went with his 
 family to Switzerland. 
 
 Page One Hundred Fifty-nine 
 
wniniiiiiMiiiitniniMiiiitiiiiiiniiiiiiniiiiiniiiiiiiiiniiniiiniiniiimiiiiiiiininiinimHiiniiMitiuiiitniuiinnirniiininiiiiMiinininiiiiiiMiiitiiinniiniiiiiiuiiiitiiiiiiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 nriiiiHiiiiiiiHiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinitiiiiiiniininiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii^ 
 
 Our Mr. Washburn — a cousin and life-long friend of the Am- 
 bassador — and Mrs. Washburn were staying on at the Embassy just 
 for the pleasure of seeing us. After dinner we found them in a 
 delightful house near the Arc de 1' Etoile. 
 
 The following day we all went to Versailles and a glorious day 
 we had. The park, the groups of statuary, the splendid fountains, 
 the stately terraces, all so finished and so beautiful delighted us. The 
 immense Palace with a facade over a quarter of a mile in length had 
 a splendor of interior that was bewildering. Apartment after apart- 
 ment in endless succession, full of pictures and statues, frescoed 
 ceilings and exquisite objects of Art. The last room we visited was 
 the celebrated Galerie des Glaces — Hall of Mirrors — a superb hall of 
 great size, with exquisitely decorated ceiling, the walls ornamented 
 with pillars of red marble. Seventeen large arched windows com- 
 manded lovely views of the garden; opposite the windows were large 
 mirrors, each framed in a gilded niche. In this Galerie des Glaces, 
 early in the year of 1871, King William of Prussia was proclaimed 
 Emperor of Germany. In this room the crushing indemnity was 
 demanded of France, and the sacrifice of territory exacted. 
 
 The custodian of the room was an old soldier, and as we talked, 
 the tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks. We all felt very sorry for 
 him and hoped the extra pourboires would help to heal the wounds 
 our words had caused. 
 
 We walked across the park to the Trianon villas talking of the 
 three Louis who had created and collected together so much mag- 
 nificence; and of Madame de Maintenon, Madame du Barrie, but 
 most of all of the lovely, unfortunate Marie Antoinette. 
 
 The following afternoon with Mr. and Mrs. Washburn, in the 
 Ambassador's family carriage, behind his spirited horses we had a 
 long drive in the charming environs of Paris. Starting in the Bois 
 de Bologne we saw the effects of the long siege Paris had undergone. 
 Every good-sized tree had been cut down and only saplings remained. 
 We dined at the Embassy and after a pleasant evening said good-by 
 to the friends who were leaving on the morrow for Switzerland, to 
 join their relatives. 
 
 Dear Mr. and Mrs. Washburn! In after years we often met, 
 spending a few days together in New York or Boston. They always 
 talked of visiting California, but "On the path of by-and-by, they 
 reached the gate of — Never!" 
 
 And on the morrow we began our sightseeing in earnest with the 
 Galleries of the Louvre. Of all the treasures of art contained in that 
 
 Page One Hundred Sixty 
 
iiiiiMiiiiinniiitiniuii»iinHiiiiiiiniiMiiiHiitiiiiniiiiriiiiiiiiiiinmiiiiiniHiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiniininiiirniiiin»iiiinniMiiiiiiiniHiiiMiiinniiiiiiiinriMiiiiriiniiiiriiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 'iiiiiiiiiiiiinniiiiniiniiiinMiiiiiniiruiHnninuniiiiiiiuinninuriiininiiiimiiriiiii!tiinHiiiniiuiiiiiMiiiiuiiniiiiniiniHHiiiiiiiiiiiiinrniiiiMntiiiiiiiHiiMiniMnitiii^ 
 
 vast pile, if we could have seen but one, we would both have chosen 
 the Venus of Milo, and so, following the direction of our guide book, 
 we soon found the room of the Goddess. On the wall hung the crim- 
 son velvet that served as a background. There was the long seat 
 upon which spell-bound admirers sat and gazed ; there was the pedes- 
 tal with a plate upon it, engraved, "Venus de Melos" but alas! the 
 pedestal was empty. 
 
 We went in search of the nearest guard and asked, where was 
 the Venus de Melos? 
 
 "Hidden away from the Germans," he answered. 
 
 "But the Germans have gone away," we argued. He shrugged 
 his shoulders. 
 
 "When should we be able to see the Venus?" 
 
 "Peutetre demain" he answered with another shrug; but tomor- 
 row and for a long succession of tomorrows we looked for her in vain. 
 
 One by one we found beautiful statues mounted upon pedestals 
 that had been empty; one by one we saw spaces filled upon the walls 
 that had been blank. We became discouraged and asked the guard 
 if the Germans had not really carried the Venus off to Berlin? An 
 impatient shrug of the shoulders was the only answer we got. Poor 
 man! we tried him to such an extent that when he saw us coming he 
 would walk rapidly in the opposite direction. 
 
 We spent hours each day in that immense store-house of art, 
 enjoying pictures, statues, bronzes, miniatures, porcelains, vases, 
 tapestries and so forth, displayed in the succession of splendid rooms. 
 
 Then out in the streets, what a beautiful city we found Paris to 
 be I The great avenues, the boulevards, the fine buildings, the squares, 
 the beautiful fountains, the handsome bridges, the perspectives and 
 the perfect harmony that everywhere greeted the eye! It was mag- 
 nificent! It was wonderful! yet we could never forget what to us 
 was the greatest wonder of all. 
 
 That only two months before we reached Paris, the Louvre, the 
 Tuileries, the Hotel de Ville and other great public buildings had 
 been repeatedly set on fire by bands of frenzied men and women 
 carrying kerosene to feed the flames ; that these same frenzied, fiend- 
 ish bands had seized upon the streets, people of both sexes and 
 dragged them to instant death; that two hundred hostages had been 
 most cruelly guillotined, and that only six weeks before we reached 
 Paris, the last battle between the troops and the insurgents had been 
 fought; and yet there was no evidence of the deadly struggle to be 
 seen. 
 
 Page One Hundred Sixty-one 
 
iiMuniniiMiHiiiiiniiiiiiMniMiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiriiniiiiniiiMiiniinininiunnirHiiiniiiiiiniiinMniiiiniiMiliMiiiiiiiiiiiininNiHiinHiMiininrnnHnninnuiMnnHunnnHininiiMniiiiinnii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iMniNiriiiiiiMiiMiiHniiniiiiiiuniiiiiiMiiiiMiMiMinnnuiiiiMiiirrniiinnininniiiiiuininiiniMiniiiMiiiuniiiinniirniMiiHMnininiiiiiiiiininiJiiMiininiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiitiiiiiiiic 
 
 By heroic work the troops had saved from destruction every 
 public building except the Hotel de Ville; and although the house of 
 M. Thiers had been demolished and the stately column in the Place 
 Vendome, crowned by a statue of Napoleon, had been pulled down 
 and broken into fragments, all debris and fragments were hidden 
 from sight. Paris was gay and bright as though disaster and disorder 
 had never touched her. The Boulevard des Italiens was again the 
 rendezvous of fashionable life; the pavements in front of the cafes 
 were filled with little tables set closely together where people sat by 
 the hour, taking ices or coffee and looking at the throngs that passed. 
 
 The theaters were crowded; we heard Fra Diavolo at the Opera 
 Comique, and saw a clever comedy at the Vaudeville; we went to the 
 notorious Jardin Mabille, an enchanting looking place of fairy like 
 splendor where the freedom in dancing and whirling was shocking 
 and in the famous — infamous we called it — can-can, the kicking was 
 amazing, but very naughty; we frequented the cafes chantants for 
 although the singing was seldom good, it was summer and they were 
 more comfortable than indoor amusements; and without regard to 
 consequences when we felt reckless we dined at one of the celebrated, 
 expensive restaurants. 
 
 We had been in Paris over two weeks. The weather had been 
 continuously hot and sultry. The streets were dusty and the glare 
 upon the light colored buildings was trying. After an extremely 
 strenuous day you asked, 
 
 "How would you like to go to Switzerland for awhile and return 
 to Paris later?" 
 
 I was delighted at thought of it, and at once we decided to go, 
 We had not been to the Louvre for three days and you suggested that 
 we make one more attempt to see the Venus of Milo. 
 
 In the room devoted to that most prized of all the Louvre's pos- 
 sessions, on her pedestal, there she stood! Not a Venus, but a glorious 
 Goddess! How rejoiced we were to see that lovely bit of marble I 
 lovelier even than our imaginations had pictured ! 
 
 At the door was our one time, surly guard. As we passed from 
 the room he bowed and smiled, saying, "enfin, Monsieur, Madame." 
 
 From Paris we went to Berne. The charming gardens of the 
 Bellevue Hotel gave us beautiful views of the Bernese Alps. We 
 laughed at the clumsy, comical bruins in the famous bear pit and next 
 day journeyed on to Interlaken. 
 
 As we neared our destination we watched eagerly for every 
 possible glimpse of the Jungfrau. We reached our hotel — in full 
 
 Page One Hundred Sixty-two 
 
iiiiiimmiiiiiMiuniiniHiiiiiiMiiiiiniiiiiHHiiiiiiiiiniHiiiiitiiiiiiiininiininHMiniiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiniiiiiiiiniiiinimiiiiiiiMiiiiiiniiMiiiHiininiiHiiiiuinitiiiin^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 niinnniMiMninHiniMjnMiniMrinuiiiiiiinMiMiNiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiniiiiniinniijaiiiiiiiiiHinniiinuiMniiHiiiinnMiiniiiiiuiiMiiniiniiinMinnuiiniiiMniiHiiiiiiinHininHiiinnniiiiiiiniiiim^ 
 
 view of the mountain — at the sunset hour, and while we looked there 
 fell upon the Jungfrau the alpenglow, — a luminous, glorious, ethereal 
 light that held us enthralled by its wondrous beauty. As that heaven- 
 ly light began to dim, the impatient landlord came for the third time 
 to say the dinner was nearly over. 
 
 All through the following day the afterglow on the Jungfrau 
 was in our minds, and three evenings we hurried our dinner in the 
 hopes of seeing it once more, but the Jungfrau's face was cold and 
 gray. 
 
 The walks about Interlaken were delightful. From summits of 
 wooded hills we had lovely views of snow mountains and blue, shim- 
 mering lakes, and in villages along the valley road we saw old- 
 fashioned houses black with age in the midst of cherry trees of won- 
 derful size. 
 
 We made an excursion to the Valley of the Lauterbrunen to see 
 the numerous waterfalls, and particularly the Staubbach — Dust brook 
 — a small stream that fell from a rocky height with a sheer drop of 
 1,000 feet. For many years we had been familiar with the lovely 
 musical lines that Goethe had written on the waterfall, 
 
 "In clouds of spray, 
 Like silver dust. 
 It veils the rock 
 In rainbow hues; 
 And dancing down 
 With music soft, 
 Is lost in air." 
 
 Goethe's eyes must have rested upon the Staubbach as ours did, 
 when the morning sunlight was falling upon it, and the rainbows 
 playing in and out of the spray. 
 
 From Interlacken by way of the Lake of Brienz we went to the 
 lovely Giessbach Falls; a generous stream framed by dark, green 
 foliage, falling from rock to rock in a succession of cascades — seven 
 in all — to reach the Lake. There was to be an illumination in the 
 evening at 8:30 and just before that hour, the buzzing and whirring 
 of a large clock in the hotel lobby, was the signal for guests to 
 assemble on the terrace, in full view of the Falls. At the hour 
 named a cannon was discharged, and in a flash, red, white and green 
 Bengal lights were thrown upon the cascades with magical effect. 
 
 From the Giessbach Falls by boat and diligence to Weiringen. 
 As we wound in and out around the mountain tops we had fine views 
 
 Page One Hundred Sixty-three 
 
nimniirHiiiinniiimiiiiiiniiiimHiintnniitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimHuiimnnmnHmiiHnirHnmiiiniiniMiiiiitiiiiHiiiiiiiiiimnimunniiniiinMiimimnimiriniminmmituirnMniiiHmiiHHiNi 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 MminiiriiiuiiHiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiniHiinnniiiiniuniniiiiiimiiiininiiiiiHiimiiiuiiiiniiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiniiiuiiiniiuininiiiiinntiiniumiiHMiiinin 
 
 of snow peaks and lakes. Alpine flowers were abundant, and cow 
 herds with Alpine horns woke the echoes among the mountain cliffs. 
 
 The next day on horseback we went up, and up, and up for 
 sixteen miles to the Handeck Falls, considered the grandest in Swit- 
 zerland. Amid wild surroundings, a great volume of water, fell 
 with a roar 250 feet into a cavernous-like pit, sending up clouds of 
 spray. It would have been a gloomy spot but for the large patches 
 of dwarfed rhododendrons covered with pink flowers that grew on 
 every side. 
 
 On the morrow as you were making arrangements for reaching 
 the Rhone Glacier a large party that had come over one of the 
 passes halted at the Falls, where two of the party wished to stop, so 
 we took their places and left our horses for them. Every horse 
 was in charge of a guide. 
 
 We had not gone far when the cavalcade was halted and every 
 one told to dismount. There were no paths, only a steep mountain 
 side of loose earth and small stones. 
 
 By chance I was well in the rear, and as I did not respond 
 quickly, I saw what difliculty people had in keeping on their feet, 
 even with the aid of alpenstocks, and determined that I would remain 
 mounted, if I could. You called back to me, "Get off your horse," 
 and I answered, "Yes — go on." 
 
 The head guide was leading two horses and had in charge two 
 timid ladies that seemed to take turns in falling, rolHng and scream- 
 ing; but busy as he was he kept an eye on me; he yelled out to my 
 guide that I must walk; my guide told me quietly that I must walk. 
 
 I told him I could not walk down the mountain. "Boiteux?" he 
 asked; I nodded, and the next time the head guide bawled out that 
 Madame must get off that horse, the answer went back, "She can't 
 walk down — she's lame." Very angry the head guide was, and used 
 words that made all the atmosphere about him blue. 
 
 You had heard the talk of the guides, knew I was the cause of 
 it, and waited for me. I expected to have, what the French call, a 
 had quarter of an hour, but did not. You wondered how I managed 
 to stay on my horse, and asked, if I did not think I was doing a very 
 dangerous thing. I answered, not dangerous at all, but I did not 
 dare tell how many times I had come near going over my horse's 
 head. 
 
 When we were over the steepest part of the mountain side, the 
 horses were re-mounted and without further incident we reached the 
 glacier. 
 
 Page One Hundred Sixty-four 
 
niinniiiiininiiiiiininnNHiiiriiiiiiHiniiiininiiuiiiiiniiittiiiiniiiiiuniiiiitiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiHiiiniiniiiinuiiiiiiHiininiiiiiiiiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iMmiiiiniuiinuiiininniinuniniiiiniiMiiiiiiiHiiuirMiinuiH(iininiiiinniiHiiiiiiininiiiiiniininiMnniinimniiiiiniuinminiHiiiiHiiiiuiinnnnniuuiiiiniiiinuiuniiunininiui^ 
 
 The Rhone Glacier, that stupendous thing! that frozen cataract 
 of fantastic shape, terraced and crevassed; bearing on its back stones 
 and earth and branches of trees, and fed by the melting snows of 
 mountains that henmied it in! 
 
 The next morning you complained that you knees were as stiff 
 as pokers from your walk down the mountain side, and hearing that 
 mine were like willow twigs you said if it were to do again you too 
 would defy the head guide and stick to your horse. 
 
 We walked to the "ice grotto" hewn deep in the glacier's side. 
 It was very beautiful, the ice blue and clear as crystal, but oh! the 
 people that looked upon it ! what a ghastly looking lot we were ! 
 
 The diligence was waiting when we returned to the hotel and 
 we started for Andermatt over the Furka Road. It was a delightful 
 ride with glorious views, and all the ground bright with Alpine 
 flowers. 
 
 Early on the morrow we were off by private carriage for 
 Fluelen. The road, a defile through hills and lofty mountains with 
 views unsurpassed for grandeur and desolation. Even the echoes 
 awakened by Alpine horns sent back mournful, melancholy sounds. 
 We crossed the savage gorge by the Devil's bridge, built 70 feet 
 above the foaming, roaring torrent of a river. 
 
 Nearing Fluelen the driver made a detour to show us the very 
 spot upon which Tell stood when he shot an apple from the head of 
 his son. A fountain under a canopy surmounted by a statue of Tell 
 marked the place. 
 
 We were put down at the landing and soon a boat came that 
 carried us to Lucerne. Lucerne! the most beautiful of Swiss towns, 
 on the most beautiful of Swiss lakes ! Half encircled by low hills, and 
 its old wall picturesque with battlements and numerous watch towers ; 
 Pilatus and the Rigi standing like sentinel mountains, and in the 
 distance the snow clad Alps. 
 
 How charmed we were with it all, and with that most delightful 
 of hotels, the Schweizerhof. We arrived at the dinner hour, tired, 
 dusty from our six hours carriage ride, and hungry; too hungry to 
 think of appearance and went at once to the brilliant dining room 
 full of well-groomed, summer-clad tourists. 
 
 And what a delightful evening we had strolling on the Schweiz- 
 erhof Quay, a broad avenue of splendid chestnut trees. As though 
 nothing that Nature could give should be withheld, a full moon arose,, 
 flooding the Lake with silvery light and sending stray beams through 
 the leafy canopy overhead. 
 
 Ptge One Hundred Sixty-five 
 
itniiiiiiiiiniinniMininiitiiMiniiMiiiiniiiiiiiiniiitiuiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiimiiiniiiiiiiminiuiitiiiiiiiniiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiinirrMniiinininiiiniMiiiiiiiiMiiiiriimiiiiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiMiirniiniiMiniiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiininiHiiiiiiiiiinnMrNuiiiiinniiniiiiiiiniiiiiniiininmiiiiiMniininiiiiHiiiiiHininiiniiiiiiMMiiuiuniiniiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiniiiiiiiiiin 
 
 "This hotel and its surroundings would make an Anchorite in 
 love with life," you said, as we re-entered the house. 
 
 Next morning to see the Lion of Lucerne, the famous monument 
 dedicated to the Officers and Soldiers of the Swiss Guard who fell in 
 defense of the Tuileries during the French revolution. A lion of 
 heroic size cut in high relief from the solid rock, after a model by 
 Thorwaldsen. A noble, artistic and impressive monument! 
 
 Of three bridges that crossed the green waters of the swift river 
 flowing through the town, two were medieval and curiously interest- 
 ing. Both crossed the stream obliquely, were open on the sides and 
 had ceiling paintings on the roofs. One represented scenes in the 
 lives of the patron Saints of Lucerne, the other, the Dance of Death, 
 showing various and unexpected ways in which the Grim Reaper 
 might be met. 
 
 We admired wood carving and beautiful embroideries in shop 
 windows and climbed the hills for views. An excursion boat took us 
 to that Mecca of all Switzerland, the Tell Chapel. A pretty struc- 
 ture delightfully situated on a margin of the Lake, and overhung by 
 trees. 
 
 A cog-wheel road carried us up the Rigi~Kulm 5,000 feet above 
 the Lake. Gradually the view became more and more extended until 
 it embraced a wonderful and glorious panorama of snow-capped 
 mountains, lakes, plains, forests, rivers, valleys and towns. 
 
 The Rigi-Kulm hotel, large and plain, was remarkable for the 
 number of notices stuck about everywhere. "An Alpine horn would 
 sound the retreat at sun set" "An Alpine horn would sound the 
 reveille a half hour before sunrise." "Guests would please be prompt 
 at their meals." "Guests were forbidden to take blankets from the 
 beds when going out to see the sun rise." 
 
 At the sun set hour we went to the belvedere, a large platform, 
 on the very top of the mountain. The Alpine horn blew the retreat 
 but the sun behaved badly and went down sulkily behind a bank with- 
 out sending back one smiling ray of brightness or color. Darkness 
 soon fell, the air became damp and chill and every one hurried to the 
 hotel for shelter and supper. 
 
 Walking on the porch in the evening we heard a guest say to 
 his companion, "The wind comes from a rainy quarter" and he was 
 right. We were awakened by gusts of wind and rain, rattling the 
 casements and dashing against the window panes. 
 
 "Well! of all places to have rain! On the top of the Rigi!" I 
 exclaimed, looking out upon a steady downpour next morning. 
 
 Page One Hundred Sixty-six 
 
wiiiiininMriiiHjriiiriiiHniiinriniiuiinrininMiriiJHriurMtnjriiuiiHiiiMiiniinuiinniiiitiiiuiniiiininiiniiinnniiiiiituiniNinniiiiiiiiiiiniiiMiriiinniiiininiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 riiiiiiiriiiMniiiinMiniMiiuiuniniininiJiiiiniiiHiitiiinniinniiiiininHiiHiiniminiiiiniiiiiiiitiiiMinnniiiiiiiiiiiniiuiiiiiiiiniJNrniniiinuniinniirMtiniuMnininiuiiiiuiniuiiHiiiii^ 
 
 You answered, "Do you realize what exceptionally fine weather 
 we have had? and will you tell me where in Switzerland rain would 
 have been welcome to you?" 
 
 Just then the sound of a gong fell on our ears. We hurried 
 from the room and struggled with a crowd for seats at the breakfast 
 table and afterwards with the same crowd, made a rush for the first 
 train down the mountain. 
 
 When we got back to the Schweizerhof, as the rain was persistent 
 we decided to take an afternoon train for Zurich. Pleasantly situ- 
 ated on the Lake, with delightful surroundings Zurich in sunshine 
 would have tempted us to loiter for a day, but the next morning a 
 drizzling rain was falling and we went on to the Falls of the Rhine. 
 
 With a fall of only sixty feet, the width of the river and the 
 vast volume of water poured over the irregular, rocky ledge made a 
 grand and impressive spectacle. The rain had ceased but the sun did 
 not shine and the rainbows for which the Falls are famous did not 
 add their charm. 
 
 In an open carriage the following day in bright, cool weather 
 we had a delightful drive along the river to Schaffhausen. An old 
 wall with many turrets surrounded the town. The architecture was 
 fantastic in the extreme. Most of the houses had windows varying in 
 size and shape, and roofs of the craziest and most peculiar design. 
 
 The day of our visit was the 400th anniversary of the Cantons 
 Alliance with the Swiss Confederation. There was a procession with 
 music and flags and hundreds of young men and maidens in the 
 picturesque dress of their locality. We went into a restaurant for 
 luncheon. The walls were hung around with chromos, mostly of 
 mountain scenery. One picture we thought looked like Mirror Lake 
 in the Yosemite Valley. Standing before it our good-natured, talk- 
 ative Wirthinn joined us. We asked her if she knew the name of 
 that lake. 
 
 "Ja, ja, das heist der Spiegel See nach Nord Amerika." 
 
 We agreed with her that it was "wunderschon" but did not tell 
 her that we had seen it. 
 
 At Schaffhausen we took a train for the frontier town of Basle 
 and at Basle, alas! and alas! we would say good-by to Switzerland; 
 to the mountains crowned with eternal snows; to the beautiful lakes 
 and their beautiful shores; to the rushing streams and waterfalls; to 
 the mountain meadows and pretty chalets with overhanging roofs. 
 
 We were both such lovers of Nature that Switzerland had been a 
 perfect delight to us. There were days when the very air we breathed 
 
 Page One Hundred Sixty-seven 
 
oiiiniiii iHinniiniiniiiiiiMMiniiiinMnMiMiiHnnninnniniminiiiiiiiimimiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiimiiniiniiiiiitniMiintiiiiiniiinniiiniiimiiiiimtiiiiununHiiiiiiiimniui^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 irHniiiinnniMniimiiiiiiMiinjiiiiiiniiiinnniiiitiniiniiiiiMiiiiiiiitiniinniNiuiiiinimiitiiiiiiiniininiiiiiinninniniiiMiMrunniiHiiniiiniiiiniiMiiiiiiiitiiiiiniiuiiiiiiniiin 
 
 exhilarated us like draughts of champagne — and what appetites it 
 gave us! All the hotels were excellent and at the smaller ones, we 
 were served by such pretty girls wearing the costume of their differ- 
 ent Cantons. How often we heard the Alpine horn at the close of 
 day playing the Renz des Vaches, and as the notes reverberated 
 through the hills we would see the cows, each with a tinkling bell, in 
 answer to the call, slowly wending their way homeward; or the air 
 would be sung by a clear, strong voice as a cow herd wandered among 
 the hills searching for his straying herd; and how we enjoyed the 
 pretty hay-making pictures in which all the family took part; the 
 mother mowing with a scythe — not heavy work because the grass 
 was cut many times during the short sunmier — ^the children tossing 
 it in the air to hasten the drying, or raking it in little stacks; the 
 father tying it in bundles which he carried on his back to the dimin- 
 utive barn; there he mounted a ladder and through a window near 
 the top let the sweet-smelling, new-mown hay fall into the space 
 beneath. These simple scenes of peasant life, Alpine horns, Alpine 
 flowers, mountain air and all the beauty and grandeur of Nature had 
 quite enchanted us. 
 
 From Basle to Strasbourg. We felt genuine regret that we 
 should see the Cathedral, a masterpiece of architecture and rich in 
 windows of old stained glass while still our hearts were in the moun- 
 tains. 
 
 At the hour of noon we stood before the famous old clock. The 
 crowing of the cock was the signal for the twelve Disciples to appear 
 and march in procession around the seated figure of the Saviour, as 
 they had marched for over three centuries while the old clock ticked 
 the time away. 
 
 Many shop windows displayed the Pates de fois gras for which 
 the place was famous. We went into one of the best establishments 
 and looked over their stock, I admiring the variety and beauty of the 
 labels, you looking at them carefully; then you selected one, had it 
 wrapped and asked the price. 
 
 "Seven francs, Monsieur." 
 
 "Seven francs for this small Pate?" you exclaimed. 
 
 "Oh yes. Monsieur, of that make, but I can give Monsieur a 
 good Pate much cheaper." 
 
 But Monsieur did not want anything cheaper and with your 
 purchase we went out, you saying, it was an extravagance to spend 
 seven francs in such a way; but — holding it at arms length — that is 
 the most famous of the Pates and when we get back to San Francisco 
 
 Page One Hundred Sixty-eight 
 
inniiiiniiiiiiiiriiiiiiniiiit iiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiniiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiniiimiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiii iinniiiiiiiniiiiiiii iiiiiiiiimi iiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiimiin ii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiniiniiiiiiiiinnniniiMHniniiiinMnMiiniiniiuuinunriuinHiiiiininninHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiitiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiuiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 we will eat it, and I will invite J. — an old friend who was born and 
 brought up in Strasbourg — to share it with us. 
 
 On the train going to Baden you took down your handbag and 
 began to rummage. You rummaged and rummaged, then turned to 
 me saying, 
 
 "Do you know I left that miserable goose liver patty in our 
 room at the hotel." 
 
 The season was at its height and Baden Baden was crowded 
 with visitors. The situation was delightful. In a lovely valley, at 
 the foot of the Black Porest mountains, with drives and charming 
 paths on hillsides and in the forest. 
 
 There was a handsome Cursaal with magnificent rooms for every 
 purpose, gambling included, and elaborate bathing establishments. 
 The "trinkhalle" was an artistic structure ornamented with frescoes 
 representing legends of the Black Forest. There, every morning 
 from six to seven, the visitors assembled. There, for an hour they 
 walked and talked and drank the waters to the music of an excellent 
 band. The waters came from different springs and all, were to us 
 unpleasant. They were warm, had a disagreeable odor, and I said, 
 the taste of weak chicken broth; you said the taste of a broth made 
 from the burnt feathers of a chicken. 
 
 We walked up to the Old Schloss, climbed to the roof where we 
 found a spy-glass. It was a grand view, overlooking the town, with 
 the Black Forest on one side, and the Rhine, winding through a 
 fertile plain on the other. 
 
 In the evening there was music in the pretty concert room — a 
 classical program well rendered. It was a brilliant assemblage gath- 
 ered there from all quarters of the globe. Most of the ladies were 
 in full dress. Many were beautiful and one so superbly beautiful 
 that she was the cynosure of all eyes. Exquisitely gowned and wear" 
 ing diamonds that would have ransomed a King. When she was in 
 sight we could do nothing but stare at her as everyone else did. Her 
 companion was a distinguished looking man and as they strolled 
 through the rooms during the intermission they were apparently all 
 unconscious of the sensation they created. 
 
 After the concert was over we fell in with some English people, 
 and asked if they could tell us anything about the couple that 
 attracted so much attention. 
 
 Yes, they were Rumanians, on their wedding journey — ^they 
 were immensely wealthy — the lady spoke five languages fluently, had 
 
 Page One Hundred Sixty-nine 
 
miiiiitiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii riiiiiiiiiiiii mi iniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii immmiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiin iiiiiimiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiHiiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 uiiiiiiiiuHiimiiiiiniinirniiiininiiniiiiuiiHiiiniiiiiuriiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiuiimuiiiiiiiiniiMmiiiiiHininnuniiiininiiiuiiiiiiMiiiiiiiininuiiiHiitiimiiiiiiiiiiii^ iiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 a beautiful voice, was grace personified when she danced, and drove a 
 four-in-hand. 
 
 At Baden Baden we were in close touch with that famous Black 
 Forest of which we had read and heard so much. How we longed to 
 tramp through it for weeks with knapsacks on our backs. That we 
 could not do, but we might have a few hours' ramble in it, and we 
 did. 
 
 The entrance to the Forest was but a few hundred feet from the 
 Cursaal. There was a broad walk for perhaps two miles, and several 
 picturesque old women, each with a broom and basket, were sweeping 
 and picking up. They all gave us a friendly greeting and in ex- 
 change for some small coin, a curtesy and a blessing. 
 
 At the end of the broad walk narrow winding paths diverged in 
 all directions and on those paths we felt the influence of the beautiful 
 Black Forest. There was no underbrush, no dead or broken branches. 
 The splendid fir trees grew so close together that the shade was dense 
 and gave the dark woods an air of mystery, that made walking on 
 and on to explore them such fascinating work, that we had a race to 
 get back for lunch at the Hotel de 1' Europe, and a train to Heidel- 
 berg. 
 
 The valley of the Neckar was very beautiful as we travelled 
 through it that August day. In large fields the ripening grain was 
 thickly dotted with blue corn-flowers and blood-red poppies. The 
 brilliant flowers had shot up for sun and light and waving in the 
 breeze with the tawny-colored spikes of grain made a lovely picture. 
 
 The streets of Heidelberg were quiet streets for the University 
 was closed and the students away. The old Castle high above the 
 town was an object of delight and interest. Roofless and overgrown 
 with ivy; square and immense, with solid walls and two picturesque 
 towers varying in style and height it was indeed an impressive piece 
 of architecture. The view from the terrace and garden was extended 
 and beautiful. In the vast cellars we saw the famous Heidelberg 
 Ton that held over 50,000 gallons. 
 
 We walked two miles through a lovely valley to the Wolf's 
 Brunnen — an abundant spring that fed a fish pond — and a favorite 
 student resort. There we found a picturesque Inn that made a 
 specialty of cooking trout. We had a delicious supper served by two 
 very pretty girls. 
 
 Near our excellent, moderate priced Prince Charles Hotel was 
 an interesting church, divided in the middle by a partition for the 
 
 Page One Hundred Seventy 
 
'iiiiiniiHmiiiMiiMiiHiitmiiiiMHniiiiiiMiiiinuiiiiiimiiiiiniiiiiiiinwmiimnnimHiiiiMHiHiiiiiHiiiuiniiiHiniuiiiiiinniiNHiniiHiiiHiMiiiitiiimtmHtiiiiiiiiHinimi^^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 'HIIHHIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIHMIIHIIIIIIIirrillllinHIMI IIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIIMIIIHIIIIilHIIimililllllinillllllllllllllllHUIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIUIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIUIIIHIIIIIIIIIIHIUItlllllHmillllllHHHIi 
 
 entire length, where, on their respective sides Protestant and Catholic 
 services were held. 
 
 Our few hours in Hombourg two months before had left such 
 a pleasant memory that we decided to go there for a weeks stay and 
 drink the cold, sparkling, saline waters that we had enjoyed so much. 
 
 It gave us a thrill of pleasure to learn upon arrival that Patti 
 was in Hombourg and singing in opera twice a week. We heard her 
 in Traviata and Rigoletto. The support was indifferent but that did 
 not count. It was Patti that enraptured everyone. Patti encored 
 and applauded wildly. Patti with flowers showered upon her for 
 every aria she sung. Patti, a beautiful, bewitching creature with a 
 glorious voice that she used with the ease of a bird. Sitting on the 
 terrace, strolling in the grounds or at the springs, Patti was always 
 surrounded by a crowd of admirers. 
 
 I took no interest in the gambling rooms since I was not allowed 
 to play and make a fortune, but we did stroll in one day and saw 
 Patti there. Before her was a big pile of gold and bills that she had 
 won, evidently enough to satisfy the diva, for just as we discovered 
 her, she rose from the chair and her husband, the Marquis de Caux, 
 standing near, gathered up the money and they went away. 
 
 After a delightful week in Hombourg we returned to Paris, gay, 
 beautiful Paris ! How busy we were, seeing, re-seeing, admiring and 
 enjoying! 
 
 We walked in the arcades of the Palais Royal when a military 
 band played in the garden; we loitered in the Rue de la Paix before 
 the shop windows of jewellers, picking out from the glittering mass 
 what each would like to give the other could we but afford it; we 
 made excursions to the delightful suburbs; we wandered through 
 the shaded avenues of Pere Lachaise, that vast city of the dead, hunt- 
 ing up all the beautiful and celebrated monuments. 
 
 We went repeatedly to the Theatre Francais. It was a rare 
 treat to see such finished and powerful acting, and to hear the French 
 language so beautifully spoken with such clearness and distinctness 
 that we could understand every word. 
 
 The splendid Opera House was in process of construction, and 
 operas were given in a theater called the Acadamie Imperiale de 
 Musique, where we heard the Huguenots; there were no celebrated 
 singers but the choruses were fine and the ballet gorgeous. 
 
 The great markets — the Halles Centrales — planned to cover an 
 area of twenty-two acres were about a quarter finished. We made 
 many visits to the attractive pavilions to see the great exhibit that 
 
 Page One Hundred Seventy-one 
 
iiiiiiniHniiiinniiMMiinHiiiiMiniinniininiiMniniMiiHininiiHnninnniiHiiiHtniHHimHMtMiiiHCHNHiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiMiiiiiiuiiiiuiiiiiiitiiuiniiinHiiiiuMiHiniiniiiiiininiw 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 miiiiiiHUMiiiiHriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiitiiiiiiMnMiinMiiiiuiiniinHtiHiiiiMiitiiuiiuiiiiiiiiiiuHuuniiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiniiiHniiiiiiiuiutiniiuiiniHiniiuiniiuuHniniiiuiuH 
 
 supplied Paris with food. Frequently we joined the throng walking 
 up the Avenue Champs Elysees to see the sumptuous equipages 
 going to and coming from the Bois, where we too, often drove — our 
 cab was shabby, the horse and driver were shabby, but the fare was 
 low, and that concerned us most. 
 
 On returning to Paris we had gone to a small hotel that had 
 been recommended to you. It was conveniently located, within a 
 stones throw of the Boulevard des Italiens, the rooms were moderate 
 in price and the cuisine excellent. On the second day you said you 
 had ordered dinner served in our room. 
 
 "Don't you feel well?" I asked with concern. 
 
 "Perfectly well," you answered with a smile, and then I noticed 
 the little air of mystery with which you were wont to surround your- 
 self when some surprise or unusual happening was being prepared. 
 Oh! that little air of mystery, how it always set me guessing! 
 
 After the soup was eaten and the entree served you had the 
 chicken and salad, cheese and whatever sweet there happened to be put 
 upon a service table. Then the waiter was dismissed and soon the air 
 of mystery was accounted for. You retired the vin ordinaire ordered 
 with the dinner and produced a small bottle, remarking that while 
 you wished to taste the best of the Chateau wines the hotels and 
 restaurants charged such extortionate prices that you could not and 
 would not pay them. 
 
 That was the first of the j oiliest and merriest of dinners covering 
 a period of two weeks during which time you gratified your curiosity 
 about the highest grade of chateau wines, sauterne and champagne; 
 and when I talked of the boquet how heartily you would laugh at the 
 idea of setting myself up as a connoisseur in wine. When dinner 
 was over we strolled on the Boulevard where you took a small cup of 
 coffee and I an ice at one of the little tables on the sidewalk, and so 
 ended one busy, happy day after another. 
 
 September 14 we went to Calais, crossed the rough, choppy 
 Channel to Dover and returned to London, going as formerly, to the 
 Westminster Palace Hotel. 
 
 The morning after, we wondered if by any chance our old 
 housekeeping quarters might be vacant and went to enquire. Mrs. 
 W. was delighted to see us — our apartment was rented for the winter 
 but would not be occupied for a month. We took possession at once 
 and went marketing before returning to the hotel. 
 
 It did seem good to sit down again to our very own table and 
 a perfectly cooked home dinner, you carving the birds, and the same 
 
 Pag6 One Hundred Seventy-two 
 
imiiiHmHnNiiiiinmNimiinniHinrmiHiiminiHHiinHHintiiiHimniiiHmiiNiimiiiNiuumiiiiiiniimmHiHiiiMniniMimimiiiiHiHtHiiiitiiNmtHtittwmiiimuNHiHnirim 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 jmiuiuiiiMiiuniiiiiiinMninHiimiiiiiiiiiiinniiiiMHiMnriiiMUiiiiiiiiiHiiMiiiinuuiiiiHimnniuiiiimiiHiiiiiiniiniiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiniHiniiiiiMiiiimituuiHtiiiiiiinii 
 
 little slavey — of the expansive smile and bobbing curtesy — waiting 
 upon us; and when the little slavey set a gooseberry tart before me — 
 kindly provided by Mrs. W. who remembered all the things we liked, 
 our cup of happiness was full to overflowing. 
 
 After the brightness of Paris, the atmosphere of smoke-be- 
 grimed London seemed dull and gray, but we were glad to be back. 
 
 The parks were a delight. In November they had been chill, 
 leafless and wintry — now they were fresh and green as midsummer; 
 animated and so extensive, that without a break, from one to another, 
 in the very heart of London, we could walk — if we were so minded — 
 a distance of nearly five miles. 
 
 After a week in London, in response to repeated invitations, we 
 went to Somersetshire to visit your Mother's Brother — a handsome, 
 intelligent, lovable man, whose home in the Vale of Taunton stood in 
 the midst of picturesque and beautiful scenery. 
 
 The arrival of the American Cousins was quite an event in the 
 monotonous every day life of the family circle. Of five children four 
 were married — two living at a considerable distance. They all came 
 to welcome us, and each claimed some part of our time. The young- 
 est, a daughter of twenty, was still at home. Jennie, our Cousin 
 Jennie ! 
 
 They were a fine-looking, well-informed, agreeable lot of people 
 — all dark, with olive complexions, black eyes and hair. 
 
 Almost the first words Cousin Jennie said to me were, "I am so 
 glad you are fair — if you had been dark as we all are, I shouldn't 
 have cared for you at all." 
 
 Jennie was the housekeeper, her Mother being in delicate health, 
 and the running of the menage during our stay we studied with 
 interest and curiosity. A trim efficient housemaid at twenty pounds 
 — an excellent cook at twenty-five pounds. 
 
 What wages! — for a years faithful first-class service! One hun- 
 dred, and one hundred and twenty-five dollars respectively. 
 
 There was also a young scullery maid — we could never get 
 Jennie to tell us the amount of her pay. She was plump and red- 
 cheeked — very curious about us; but running to cover like a young, 
 frightened rabbit whenever she thought we were observing her. In 
 addition to these, a very tall gardener, who also acted as groom, 
 completed the staff. 
 
 At our first dinner, when your Uncle served us from the immense 
 roast of beef, he asked if he should help us to broiled mushrooms — 
 
 Page One Hundred Seventy-three 
 
auniniiniiiuiiiiHruiiiminiHiniiiniiiniintii(MniinHniuiiniiniiimniiiinimimimiiiiniinniinniiiiuiiiiinniiinmininiiniiiinmniiiniiniitinmitiiiiiMiiiiiiininn 
 
 MEMORIES — SO M EOF MANY 
 
 lumiiiniiiiniiiiiiiiuiiiiHiiiMiiiiiiniiiiiinininiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiniiininnniiiiininiiiiuuiiiiwniiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiuiinimiHiiiiMiiiiiiiiiuiniiiii^^ 
 
 a dish of which stood beside him — remarking that many people were 
 afraid to eat them. They were perfectly delicious, and upon express- 
 ing our fondness for them and that we were alwaj^s ready to take the 
 chances, Jennie said, "Then perhaps you will go with me tomorrow 
 morning to gather some." We gladly assented, and next morning 
 she bustled into the library with, "Now if the American Cousins want 
 to gather mushrooms, I am ready." 
 
 We followed her to a back porch upon which were ranged a long 
 row of pattens. Frequent showers and heavy dews kept the luxuri- 
 ant English grass very wet and unless heavily shod every one put on 
 a pair of those quaint looking things before walking over it. 
 
 You thought you could get along without them. Cousin Jennie 
 looked critically at your shoes. "Fairly heavy soles" she said, "but 
 the uppers would be drenched in no time — put on the pattens or 
 stay home." 
 
 We all laughed, slipped our feet in pattens and each with a 
 basket started for the pastures. Mushrooms were plentiful — button 
 and open — and we soon had all we needed, then we rambled along 
 the interesting hedgerows. They were bright with the coral-red 
 fruit of the hawthorn and seed vessels of the dog-rose — the hips 
 and haws of English hedges. We found wild, prickly gooseberries 
 and belated blackberries and quantities of sloes — ^a mouth-puckering 
 wild plum that Jennie said lost their sourness after the first frost, and 
 were then gathered, making a delicious jelly. 
 
 We were both in among the brambles and thorns when we heard, 
 near us, the song of a bird and looking, saw a skylark rising from the 
 ground. Singing and circling in the air, up and up that darling 
 bird flew. We watched until he became a tiny speck, then vanished 
 from our sight, while yet, clearly and distinctly we heard the music 
 from that little throat. 
 
 How perfectly delighted we were. Dear! We had not hoped 
 to hear the skylark's song — we thought the season too far advanced, 
 but Jennie said when the weather was warm the birds remained until 
 the end of October. Jennie seemed rather amused at our enthusiasm 
 over a skylark and said if one gave us so much pleasure we better get 
 up at sunrise when we might hear dozens of them. We compromised 
 by walking along the pleasant lanes at sunset, — ^hearing the dear 
 birds sing and keeping our eyes on one after another until it disap- 
 peared in the blue ether. And oh, those Somersetshire lanes, how 
 lovely they were! Larks in the sky, linnets twittering in the hedges 
 and blackbirds singing in the tree tops! 
 
 Page One Hundred Seventy-four 
 
iiiiiiiniiiiittiriiMiniiiHHiiiiniiiniiiHitiiniiiiuiiHiiiiitiiiMiiiiiiiiiiMiiiinimiiNiiiiMiiiiiiHiuiiiniiiiiiiitiuHmniinHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniimiHini^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 qiiiiiHiMiiiiMimHiiiiiiHiniiiHiiMiinniJiiiMiiiiiiiiiiinrmiiiiinuniiiHiMiiinmiiiiiinnimmiimniiNHiMiiiuiiMniunMniiMiniiiiiHiiuiiHniniiniiiitiiniiiininniiiinininiiHiiiniiiin^ 
 
 On the last evening of our stay Jennie said to me, "Before you 
 go away, please play your National air, Yankee Doodle, for me. 
 Every one of the family — even Mother — has heard it played by a 
 band, but I have never been so fortunate." 
 
 After you and I had teased and bantered her for calling Yankee 
 Doodle our National air and her Father had chided her for betraying 
 such inexcusable ignorance, we went to an adjoining room and I 
 played the air a few times. Jennie soon caught it and I returned to 
 the library, but Jennie did not leave the piano until — to her great 
 delight — she played Yankee Doodle with all kinds of flourishes and 
 brilliant variations. 
 
 Your Uncle drove us twenty miles to the home of a daughter 
 — Jennie going with us to be as long as possible with the American 
 Cousins. After lunch the good-bys were said, regretfully on both 
 sides. 
 
 The following day the cousins drove us to Wells — fifteen miles 
 away — that we might see the beautiful Gothic Cathedral there; then 
 fifteen miles farther to the home of the eldest son. They all had 
 attractive homes, and all lived in the same comfortable, substantial 
 way. 
 
 The luxury of game preserves on his place was enjoyed by this 
 last member of the family that we visited, and in anticipation of our 
 coming he had shot two brace of pheasants arranging that the plum- 
 age should be kept for me in case I cared for it. I did care for it 
 very much and the long, graceful, soft-colored tail feathers of pheas- 
 ants adorned for many years a succession of my second best hats. 
 
 The birds when served at table did not compare with those of a 
 London poulterer. The cousin's explanation that they had not hung 
 long enough was probably the reason. 
 
 The following day we drove to a railroad station, making a 
 long detour that we might see, what our cousins thought, the most 
 beautiful scenery thereabouts. To us, it was all beautiful! exquisite- 
 ly beautiful, that rural England through which we drove in those 
 golden September days! Bands of sheep and herds of cattle in the 
 sweet, dewy pastures, where cowslips grew, and well trimmed hedges 
 marked the boundaries — small streams fringed with trees and crossed 
 by substantial stone bridges — neat, cosy, thatched cottages with 
 blooming flowers around them — gray, ivy-covered churches standing 
 in the midst of pretty hamlets — stately, ancestral homes with great 
 stretches of park where deer roamed on the velvety turf — grown 
 people and children walking on the pleasant foot paths — along the 
 
 Page One Hundred Seventy-five 
 
•luiuiiHNiiiiimiiiHHiHiMHNiiMiiiiHniiHiininniiiiiMHiiiMriniuiiiiHmiiiiiimmHiiiNiiHimiiHnHiuiiiiimiiiMiitmmiiiuHiiiHiiiiuumituHHHiitiinKHHHtiimiiininiiiiiiiiiiiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 MiuuwiinniiiiiHiiiiinriiiiiiiihiiniHniiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiinniiiiiiiiumiiniiiiiiiiiiniiiiiHnHiiiiiiiiiMiiHiiiiiiiiiiHnHuiniiiNiiitiuiwiiHiimHiituiiiiuiiiiiiimui^ 
 
 highway, through meadows and beside the streams — crossing hedges 
 and walls by romantic looking stiles — birds darting hither and thither 
 — cawing rooks, and now and then above the sound of talk, of rolling 
 wheels and the clatter of horses feet, a skylark's song! And we! 
 happy, eager and alert, drinking in the loveliness of it all! 
 
 A two hours' journey by rail carried us to the town of Frome. 
 There, in a very attractive suburb lived a cousin who belonged to an 
 older branch of the family. Her husband was Scotch — his birthplace 
 Glasgow. They were elderly! — they were delightful! — they were 
 adorable. Their two children lived so far away that it was impossible 
 to meet often and only the long vacations brought visits from the 
 grandsons at Oxford. But they were happy in each other and con- 
 tented within themselves — charitable, warm-hearted and active in 
 kindly help among the poor of the town. 
 
 They had a lovely, picturesque home of gray stone, with an oriel 
 window that was a thing of beauty without and within. How glad 
 — childishly glad — I was, when I found that lovely window in the 
 room we were to occupy. 
 
 The garden was full of old-fashioned flowers and high up near 
 the roof against a gray gable, great clusters of crimson rambler roses 
 hung from a sturdy vine. 
 
 We went to that charming home for a day and remained a week. 
 We took long drives — we took long walks and had long talks on all 
 manner of subjects. Dear Mr. K. wondered how you had the cour- 
 age to undertake a years travel in Europe, with a wife, on so limited 
 a capital, and you wondered how Mr. K. had the courage to trust all 
 his comfortable fortune in one investment — that you would be 
 nervous to feel that you were carrying all your eggs in one basket. 
 I can still hear that pleasant voice with the delightful Scotch burr, 
 as he replied, "Why, my dear John, the Bank of the City of Glasgow 
 is as safe and sound as the Bank of England." 
 
 Every night at ten o'clock a trim, pretty maid brought in a 
 decanter, sugar, lemons and a kettle of boiling water — then Mr. K. 
 took from the sideboard a loving cup of Doulton ware, with the 
 quaintest of decorations, in which he made a mild brew, and we sat 
 before the glowing coals, passing the cup from one to another until 
 the last drop was drained. Those evening talks were always merry. 
 Mr. K. was an excellent raconteur and had an inexhaustible fund of 
 amusing anecdotes and stories of Scottish life. 
 
 When we were leaving for London the loving cup was given 
 us as a souvenir of our visit. How we did prize that cup ! We carried 
 
 Page One Hundred Seventy-six 
 
iHiiHMiinnininiiniiiiiiiiniitiiniiMMmitiiiiirnitMnHiriiHmMiiiiiiimmiiniiuiiiiiniiiiiMiiNmriiriiiinirimiMirrinnriniiiiiiiiriMHiuuririiiMiHiiimniHiiiMMm 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiuMiuininhnuiiiiiMiiniminiiuiiitiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiinmiiiiiHiHiiHiiiiiiiimiiiiimHiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiHuiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiuiiuiHiiiiiimmiiiiiiiiniH 
 
 it carefully to London and safely across the ocean — safely too, across 
 the continent to San Francisco. For two weeks in its new home, it 
 had gladdened our eyes whenever we looked upon it and then a maid, 
 who had been instructed never to touch the cup, broke it into frag- 
 ments. 
 
 A few years after that delightful visit the Bank of the City of 
 Glasgow failed calamitously. At that time limited liability did not 
 apply to banks and our dear, worthy, noble friend lost his entire 
 fortune — gave up his home, his horse and carriage and everything he 
 possessed to the creditors of the bank and yet remained heavily, hope- 
 lessly in debt. They did not leave the home where they had been so 
 happy — their children arranged that those beloved parents should not 
 be disturbed — they provided them with the comforts and luxuries to 
 which they had been accustomed and never left them alone; but the 
 blow had been too heavy to bear! 
 
 An Act of Parliament was passed for the relief of shareholders 
 completely ruined by the disaster but it came too late! In less than 
 two years the happy, helpful, beautiful lives were ended, and two 
 loving, tender, broken hearts were at rest beneath the churchyard sod ! 
 
 Back in London we began at once to make preparations for 
 returning to our native land. Shopping and having things made took 
 up considerable time — the rest we gave to pictures and the parks. 
 
 October 15 we said good-by to kind Mrs. W. and the little slavey 
 and went to Liverpool. 
 
 We got a vague idea of the enormous docks with their fifteen 
 miles of quays, saw the many fine public buildings and on the 17th 
 sailed on the Steamer Abysinnia for New York, our year in Europe 
 a thing of the past. 
 
 "Should we ever go again? ever repeat the delightful experi- 
 ence?" I asked — I wondered. 
 
 "That we could never do," you answered. "There could be only 
 one first time. A second draught of Old World flavor would be a 
 diluted draught." 
 
 I was not sure of that, except perhaps, in Cathedrals. The first 
 great Cathedral we saw was that of Cologne and I did admit that the 
 thrill, the catch of the breath, the wonder and awe I felt when I be- 
 held the glory and majesty of that interior were never quite repeated. 
 
 "Which goes to prove," you argued, "that there can be only one 
 first time." 
 
 I was no better a sailor than in going over and the eleven days 
 
 Page One Hundred Seventy-seven 
 
iiiiiiiiniiiiiiiimiitiiMiiiiiiiHiniininiiriitiiHiniimiiMtitiiiiiMininiiiirinininiiiniNiiiMnimiMnnniiiiMiniiiniiiiHniiniiiiiiniiiiniiMiiinniniiiiiiirinitiiiiiniiiiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 4iiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiHHHUiMiHiHmHiHHHiiiiniituiitiniiHiiiiiiHimiiiiHiiHiiiniiiMM 
 
 of the voyage were mostly miserable days for me. The crisp, bright 
 autumn weather tempted us to remain for several weeks in the City 
 before going to our old home in Central New York where we re- 
 mained through the winter and in the spring returned to California. 
 We had left a white World buried deep in snow and the contrast 
 when we reached the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains 
 warmed the very cockles of our hearts. Exquisite verdure — fruit 
 trees in blossom — wild flowers on every side. A glorious riot of color 
 called into being by a California spring. 
 
 March 20, 1872, we were back in San Francisco. 
 
 Page One Hundred Seventy-eight 
 
«iiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiitiimiiiiHiiiniiiMiiiiiiininiiiniininniiniMiiiniiHiiiiiiiiininiiMnininiiiniiMiiiiiiiiitiiiHnMnnniniuniiminiiiminiiniiiiiHninimii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 imiiJHnniMnHiiiuNiiiMiiiiMiiiMMiinMinnMniniininiiiiniiiiiiiniiiiiiHniiMiiiiiiriuiiiMniiiuuHUiiiiiiiiiiiHMiiiinHti»iiiiMiiiiiniiiitiiHnH(uniiiiiiMiuiiniiiiiimiiiuiH 
 
 PART FOUR 
 
 A FTER the first excitement of return to the old famihar scenes 
 ZA had worn away, and we had met all the intimate friends, we 
 began to count the cost. 
 
 Like the sun-dial I have marked only shining hours! To those 
 must now be added a long period of stress and strain. The expense 
 of our European trip had far exceeded your estimate. Business was 
 dull, and the practise of law sympathized with the general commer- 
 cial depression; and in a matter where you had looked for profit, you 
 had met disappointment and loss. 
 
 Speculation in mining stocks was common. Many people that 
 we knew, eagerly watched the quotations of the stock markets from 
 day to day, and we heard a great deal of talk about prospects and 
 indications in this mine and that. 
 
 One day you came home with ten shares of Crown Point that 
 was selling so low, you were tempted to buy, particularly, you ex- 
 plained, as the assessments for developing the mine were not heavy. 
 
 When we went to Europe you left the stock and a special 
 power of attorney with an intimate friend, instructing him to act as 
 though the shares were his own. For many months he paid assess- 
 ments until one day, hearing an unfavorable report of the mine, he 
 sold the stock for a few dollars a share. There were but two assess- 
 ments levied after that. A large body of high grade ore was uncov- 
 ered and at once the stock went up. Higher and higher, until two 
 months after our return to San Francisco it sold for nearly $2,000 a 
 share. It was trying; it was disappointing; to me it was maddening, 
 and how you could take a philosophical view of the transaction was 
 beyond my comprehension. I was outspoken in my criticism and 
 censure of your friend; I argued that you would at least have kept 
 part of the stock, and sold that perhaps for the highest price. 
 
 Oh no! you said, there would have been no possibility of that, as 
 the blind gods of chance had never shown you any favor. You might 
 have made a few thousand dollars which would have been very ac- 
 ceptable; or you might have sold the stock as T. did; he acted on his 
 best judgment and you had no complaint to make. It was certainly 
 a disappointment, but could not be helped. 
 
 For once, our point of view was wide apart as the poles. I took 
 the highest figure the stock reached, multiplied it by ten, and in- 
 sisted that was the amount of your loss, and no argument or reason- 
 ing could convince me otherwise. 
 
 Page One Hundred Seventy-nine 
 
niiiiriniuiiiuniitiniiiiinniiniininiiiiintiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiniHiniiiniiinitiiiiminnnriiiiniiniiiiiitpiiiiriiiiiiniiiiiniiitMMtinutiintHiniiiiiiniiHiiimiinitiiiiittiiH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 mniimmitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iMiiriHutiiiiiiiiniiniininmiiiiiniinrnmitiiHiimiiiimimiiiiiiiuiiiiimiMiiinimiiMHiiiiniiiuiiiiiiimniimiiiiiimmiiimiittinuinimiiHiiniiiiiniiiniiiu^ 
 
 Your friend felt that he had managed his trust badly, and 
 wondered that no word of reproach ever fell from your lips; he said 
 if you would call him a blunderhead and give him a good blowing up 
 he should feel better. For a long time he knew he was under the 
 ban of my displeasure but by degrees the soreness wore away, the 
 entente cordiale was restored, and he came frequently as ever for a 
 little evening visit with us ; but I gave him many a pin prick by talk- 
 ing of things we might have had or done, if we had not lost that 
 fortune in Crown Point. 
 
 In after years I realized and understood more fully how fair 
 and sensible and generous you had been in judgment of your 
 friend ; how brave in meeting loss where you had hoped for gain, and 
 thought then as I do now — laying down my pen the while, to go over 
 it all — how patient you were with me, for well you knew, Dear Heart 
 of mine, that my regret was keen because fortune had not been kind 
 to you. 
 
 All through the summer, business was depressingly dull, and 
 although when alone with me, or in the company of friends you al- 
 ways seemed cheerful, the quick eyes of affection looked beneath the 
 surface, and I knew that all was not well. The winter passed ; spring 
 came and went. As summer approached I noticed with ever increas- 
 ing anxiety that I never heard you laugh and seldom saw you smile; 
 that your step was slow ; your appetite capricious and your spirits at 
 the lowest ebb. When I questioned you, you admitted that you did 
 not feel well hut everyone must expect indisposition at times and 
 there was no cause for alarm. 
 
 We had planned a camping expedition with friends, and soon 
 as we were in the country you would feel better. The day came for 
 the party to start. We were to number six, but you were not well 
 enough to go, and we insisted the four should not delay their de- 
 parture; we would join them by the time they had the camp nicely 
 running. Two days later you thought you would not get up — per- 
 haps a days rest in bed might do you good. Oh! what a pang those 
 words gave me ! spoken in so low a tone and in such a patient, pathetic 
 way! I sent in haste for Dr. McM. "Typhoid fever, without a 
 doubt," he said. My blood ran cold from fear and fright! 
 
 The disease developed rapidly. For three weeks I watched day 
 and night beside your bed, with one prayer always in my heart and on 
 my lips. You were very, very ill, but the crisis was safely passed; 
 your precious life was spared and my prayer answered. Then came 
 convalescence. Ah me! the memories of that blessed, blissful time! 
 
 Page One Hundred Eighty 
 
iiiimnuriiiiiiuiiiiiHiiiiiiiniiiiHiiiiMiHiiiiiMniiiniiuniiiiiiiiiiniininiiriiiMiiniiinuMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiininiiiiiiiiiniiniiiniiiiiiiiiiuuiiiiiiniiiiiiniiHiiiiiiiiiiiniiiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 «iiMiHiiitHimiuiiMniiiiiiniinniiniiMniiinHinMMMiiiiiiiiiniiiunmMinniiiniimiiiiiHiiiHniiMMiiHmmHiinHiHniiniinrniinnHiii(imiiHiHminiiiiinHMiHiiiMimiininiutniHiuiiiiii^ 
 
 with you constantly clamoring for something to eat, and I so glad 
 and thankful, yet never forgetting the Doctor's warning! What 
 wrangles we had. Dear, over your food, you calling me a tyrant, 
 a cruel, heartless tyrant, destitute of kindness, of sympathy and of 
 pity! and never giving you half enough to satisfy your appetite. 
 
 Soon as you were able to bear the fatigue of travel we went to 
 the Big Tree Grove of Calaveras County. That part of the journey 
 taken in a clumsy stage coach that seemed minus of springs was try- 
 ing to both of us. YoUj, weakened by long and serious illness, I^ by 
 my protracted vigil and anxiety, yet strange to say, jolting over the 
 rough road through intense heat and suffocating dust did not harm 
 either of us. 
 
 When we reached our destination we found a pleasant house with 
 a large porch upon which all the visitors were assembled to see the 
 arrival of the stage. Oh! how glad we were to rest, and how sweet 
 the mountain air was! 
 
 Surveying our new surroundings next morning the porch and 
 the rocking chairs did not appeal to us. We wanted none of that. 
 We wanted a bowery retreat all to ourselves with solitude a deuce. 
 We went to the grove and chose our location. We constructed a 
 kind of couch with the head resting against the trunk of a magnifi- 
 cent tree; on this framework of boughs we piled layer after layer of 
 the tender ends of fir tree branches. We worked diligently for two 
 entire days. 
 
 Directly after breakfast of the third day, with a small book — 
 Select Poems of Wordsworth — we went to take possession. How 
 pleased we were with our handiwork! We sat down upon the soft, 
 yielding, fragrant mass that gave so delightfully to the pressure of 
 our bodies. Here we would rest! Here we would read and talk and 
 breathe the dry, pure, health-giving air! We felt a real compassion 
 for the people rocking on the porch when by a little labor they might 
 recline on such a couch. 
 
 As you opened your book you brushed a big, black ant from 
 your hand, while I brushed another from your sleeve; then you 
 brushed two from the back of my neck, one of which had bitten me 
 viciously. We looked around. Ants were crawling up and down the 
 trunk of the tree — ^^ants were crawling by hundreds through our 
 pretty, green mesh-work of twigs — ^the biggest, blackest, wickedest- 
 looking ants! We knew at once there was no use in putting up a 
 fight against such numbers. Disappointed and disgusted we walked 
 
 Page One Hundred Eighty-one 
 
HiininiiniiiniiiiiiiMiimiiiuinHiHMnMHnuniiininiMinHirininimiiniiiiiiriiiiinNiHiHirmMiiniiiiiniiHiniiuiiiiiiHirnniiiiitiiniiniininiiiiiiiiiiinii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iHiHiiiiiiiniiinHiniinnuinmiHiiiiiiiiiiiniiHinuiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiHiinHiHiiliiiiiiiiiiHHniniiiniiiiniiiiminitiiMiniimitiiiiitiiinniiiiMin 
 
 back to the house. We found two vacant chairs on the porch and sat 
 down to rock and meditate ! ! 
 
 In a few days we began to take short walks, extending them 
 gradually as I deemed prudent, and oh! my Beloved! what thank- 
 fulness! what joy unutterable took possession of all my heart and soul 
 to see each day the change in you ! To see the return of so much that 
 I had sadly missed! Elasticity in your step; the cheerful, resonant 
 ring in your voice ; the alert, happy light in your eyes. Your strength 
 returned in leaps and bounds. Hope came back! Courage came 
 back! and Heaven opened before me once again! a very material 
 Heaven, to be sure, but one in which I dwelt ever blissfully ! At the 
 end of a month we returned to the City, you, with the strength of a 
 Sampson, you declared. 
 
 For twenty years you worked steadily. In that time the vicissi- 
 tudes of life did not pass us by. You had disappointments and vexa- 
 tions and trials and perplexities to overcome. Whatever affected 
 you affected me, so life was not always couleur de rose; but taken all 
 together they were happy years. The days of sunshine when we 
 lived in sweet content; at peace with the World and in the full enjoy- 
 ment of all we held most dear, outnumbered an hundred to one the 
 days when shadows fell. 
 
 We had a large circle of friends and acquaintances and San 
 Francisco with a smaller population; San Francisco with wind and 
 dust and fog and old wooden sidewalks was a sociable, friendly, de- 
 lightful place in which to live! When we walked on the business 
 streets you exchanged bows with half the men we met, and to stroll 
 in the limited shopping district was to meet nearly every one we 
 knew. Golden Gate Park was a dream of the future and the Cliff 
 House Road the only drive. It was a lively road, particularly on 
 Saturday afternoons and when we could get our favorite horse, 
 dapple-gray "Archie" we enjoyed the ride and the animation. 
 
 Where the large down-town apartment houses now stand there 
 were pleasant homes and smiling gardens, and Chinamen with pig- 
 tails hanging down their backs went from house to house supplying 
 fruit and vegetables from baskets that dangled, one on each end of a 
 bamboo pole across their shoulders. What familiar figures they were 
 on the streets and hills. 
 
 We had our short seasons of Grand Opera and we had Sym- 
 phony Concerts and in the latter part of that first decade we had in 
 the stock company of the California Theater a talented group of 
 
 Page One Hundred Eighty-two 
 
MMiriiHHHiiiuritiuiiiiimiuiuiiHtimtniiriiniininniiniiiiiitmniiiiiiiiiiiiiiHHiiHHmHiiNiiiHirtiuiiiiiiiiiiHiniiHiiiiMuiiimiMiiHHiniiininiiiiiiiiMMtiiMMtiuiiniirnriiiniiiininiHi^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 itminiiiiuiiiuuuiniiniHiHiHiHiiiuniimMtiiiiMiniiiiuiiiiiHiiiMiiliiiiiiiiiiiiuiniiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiuinimMinuiHunuHniiiniiiniiuiinuiiuininiHiHiniiininiiniiimi^ 
 
 actors and actresses, every one of whom left San Francisco as a star, 
 to shine in the theatrical firmament of Eastern cities. 
 
 And we had frequent visits from Negro Minstrels, — those 
 mirth-provoking burnt cork artists that now we never see nor hear. 
 More's the pity! 
 
 During those years of work no two school children ever looked 
 forward to summer vacations or little excursions more eagerly than 
 we did. In the early period of that time whenever you went out of 
 town on business for more than a day you took me along — once under 
 most unusual circumstances. 
 
 I was at a lunch party. While we were at table a maid whis- 
 pered to the hostess who excused herself and left us, returning soon 
 for me and laughing said, "You need not be alarmed." In the living 
 room I found you. Unexpectedly called to Sonoma on bilsiness that 
 would keep you two or three days, you had put the things I should 
 need for the night in your bag and stopped for me. 
 
 "But I cannot go in this gown," I said. 
 
 "I have your linen duster," you answered, "for we shall have a 
 long, dusty ride — there is no time to go home to change your dress." 
 
 Turning to my hostess, I asked, "Would it be quite right and 
 proper for me to leave you and go?" "Right and proper," she said, 
 "I would give the World to have my husband carry me off in such a 
 way." A carriage was at the door to take us to the boat. I went, 
 and what a good time we did have! For fear of spoiling my best 
 gown I wore my linen duster every day from morning until night. 
 
 Every three or four years we crossed the continent to spend 
 your leisure with our relatives in New York. Most of the time in 
 the old Central New York home; the remainder in the city with a 
 brother and sister. 
 
 One summer we spent your vacation in going to Alaska, and 
 what ideal voyaging it was, that smooth channel between the main 
 land and a chain of islands, getting only once on the long voyage the 
 swell of the Pacific ocean that stretched away blue and smooth to the 
 horizon. 
 
 The scenery was magnificent! The lofty peaks and snow-clad 
 mountain ranges, the stupendous cliffs, the lovely, feathery cascades 
 tumbling down the mountain sides, the dense forests of noble trees, 
 the glimpses of grand fjords as we threaded our way through charm- 
 ing inlets, with shores so near on either side that we could often see 
 the blue and pink of flowers, but never close enough to determine 
 their form. 
 
 Page One Hundred Eighty-three 
 
miiiniiMiiMiiiNniMiiiiiiiMniniiiiiiniiMniiMiiiiniiinniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiniiiiiii niiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiti niitiiiitiiriiii uiiiiiiittiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiHiniiiiiiiiiniiiiintuiniiimn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iNuiHiiiimiiiininiiinnniHuiitHUHiMHininiMMiiiiiinuniNHniHiiifiiiiMiinnniiinniiniiiiiiiiiinniuriinimiiiuiiiiniiiHiiniHiniiiiHimiiiinMiuiiiiiiiiMiiuiimiiiiiiiin inii tii 
 
 Only an occasional blot on nature's beautiful handiwork for 
 forestry was unknown and conservation not yet thought of, and we 
 saw miles and miles of blackened stumps where stately forests had 
 been turned into scenes of desolation in the first process of clearing 
 the land. 
 
 Going ashore we always hailed with delight. The villages were 
 full of interest. The natives and their abodes, the totem poles 
 crowned with an animal, and many carved their entire length, the 
 shops where furs and skins were sold and the Indian women and girls 
 weaving baskets. Many of the old women were hideous with enor- 
 mously distended cheeks. How we pitied them, thinking they suf- 
 fered from toothache, until we saw them drawing long strands from 
 their mouths where they were kept moist and supple till needed in 
 their work. 
 
 We stopped at Douglas Island where an immense stamping mill 
 was crushing ore with deafening noise. Picturesque Sitka with a 
 mountain-locked harbor studded with islands was the limit of our 
 voyage, and after the confinement on the Steamer the long walk up 
 Indian River trail was a delightful experience. 
 
 How we enjoyed those long June days in that Northern land! 
 The sun disappeared for a few hours but there was no night, and it 
 was our rare good fortune to have clear, cloudless skies in a pro- 
 verbially rainy region; we had two or three light showers but the 
 little bundle containing our Mackintosh coats and rubber shoes was 
 never opened. 
 
 On our homeward voyage we saw the Muir Glacier — a stream of 
 ice three miles in width varying in height above the water from 100 
 to 300 feet and stretching away far as the eye could reach. From the 
 main body, masses of ice were frequently detached with a sound like 
 thunder, sending the rainbow colored spray hundreds of feet in the 
 air as the new iceberg of exquisite blue floated gracefully into the 
 Bay or sank beneath the water. 
 
 On the pinnacled, splintered crystal wall of the Glacier iridescent 
 hues were constantly at play with an effect of indescribable beauty. 
 About the Bay snow-crowned mountains towered skyward completing 
 a spectacle of wonderful beauty and grandeur. We went ashore, 
 walked over the moraine and on the Glacier until we reached a 
 crevasse down which we peered. 
 
 In going to Alaska we had chosen the old wooden ship Mexico 
 in preference to the Queen, because the Mexico took several more 
 days for the trip and went where the Queen could not or did not go. 
 
 Page One Hundred Eighty-four 
 
ainniiiiiimuirmiinHmininnimiHiiMtiniiitiniiiHiniiiinnHiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiHiniiiiiiHiiiiiniuiHiiitiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiniiiiHiminiiiiiiiiiiiiiniHmiinn^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiriiiiniuiitiiiiiiMMniimMHniiMiMniMninnntniiMiMiMnniiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHniHiniiiiiiiminniniiiiuiniiiiniiiiiiniiiiiMiiMiinMininiininnnimmnt4iininininiiiiin 
 
 As we were steaming out of the Bay we ran upon a submerged ice- 
 berg and stuck fast. In the ship's effort to free herself the berg 
 played havoc with the wooden hull and immense pieces of splintered 
 wood drifted from our enforced anchorage. The situation was rather 
 disquieting but only one passenger felt alarm — a timid man from 
 Los Angeles begged the Captain to send him ashore, offering to pay 
 well for the service. In time the Captain got his craft afloat and we 
 made our home port where the Mexico underwent repairs, but the 
 good, old ship had been on her last, long voyage. 
 
 When we did not leave the State our vacations were taken in the 
 mountains of California! what memories those words recall, of glori- 
 ous days when we tramped over steep trails; or walked for miles on 
 an old abandoned wagon road; or followed the margin of a clear, 
 singing, rapid stream, carrying creel and rod; letting our flies float 
 down the riffles and whipping the pools; filling our drinking cup 
 from springs of deliciously cold water ; eating our lunch in the grate- 
 ful shade of a tree while the whispering leaves overhead and the 
 sound of running water made music in the sweet wood-scented air; 
 counting our catch; telling the difficulty of landing this one or that; 
 laughing at each other over "the one that got away" — so much larger 
 than any that were caught — and when we were rested, on with our 
 work until the long shadows warned us that it was time to turn our 
 faces homeward. Ah me! what comrades we were! and I do believe, 
 Dear Heart of mine, that some of the very happiest days of our lives 
 were spent amid the beauties of the mountains we so loved! The 
 mountains of California! 
 
 When the winter was unusually cold and damp, we went to bask 
 for a time in the hot sun of the citrus belt, but in spite of these 
 changes, there were long months of continuous grind, and in time the 
 leaven of unrest began to work in us. 
 
 Many a morning as you said good-by you quoted Sir Walter 
 Scott's remark about himself, "No man ever hated task-work as I 
 do." We talked more frequently about Europe and the record of 
 my ever ready pencil was brought to light ; we lived over those happy 
 days, recalling one incident after another, glad to find that "the 
 evergreen tree of memory had not lost its glossy leaves." 
 
 The confinement of the court-room was telling seriously upon 
 your health, and we decided that when your term of office expired 
 you should be free. Your intimate friends advised rest, and keeping 
 on with your work; they argued that you had not reached the age 
 
 Page One Hundred Eighty-five 
 
jiiiiiiiiiiiiininiiiiiniiiniinininnniiiiitntiiiiiintiiiMinnnininniiiiiiilliMiliiiiniiiininiiiiiiiitrniiniiiniiinntiniiiHiHitiiiiiiiiniirniiiiniitiniiniiiHiiiiiiiiiiuntintiin^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aiiiiiiniiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiNiiiiuiiiuiiuiuiiiiiiiiiiiimiiuiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiuuiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiniiiiiniiiiniiiiiiu^ 
 
 when you were justified in giving up, and urged you to abandon your 
 decision; but you had fully made up your mind. 
 
 True, we had only a modest fortune to retire upon, but neither 
 of us had extravagant tastes and we knew that if ever the necessity 
 arose we could settle down to a very simple life and be happy in it. 
 We could even deny ourselves — we laughingly told each other — what 
 Mary Lamb said her brother Charles would not, "The pleasure of 
 eating strawberries before they were quite common, and peas while 
 they were yet dear." 
 
 The interest, the warm-hearted expressions of friendship, and 
 regrets at our going away resolved themselves into a priceless mem- 
 ory that we cherished forever ; as we did the generous welcome always 
 given us upon our return; and to me personally, the spoken and 
 written tributes to your work, your worth, and your character, were 
 d source of unbounded and undisguised pride and gratification. 
 
 February 26, 1893, we sailed from San Diego for Panama. We 
 went ashore at several Mexican ports, finding cities and a people de- 
 cidedly and delightfully foreign. Crossing the Isthmus we were 
 interested in the great mass of costly and powerful machinery 
 strewn about and abandoned to the elements; machinery provided by 
 the French Government for the construction of a ship canal across 
 the Isthmus of Panama, under the direction of that brilliant man, 
 diplomat and engineer, Ferdinand de Lesseps. 
 
 Page One Hundred Eighty-six 
 
niiniitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiliiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiitiiiiniiiiiHiriiiniiMntininiiiiuiiimiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiniiiiiiiiiiiiiinMnniiiiiiiiiiiiiiinimiitHiunitiiiiiiun 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 ininniuiiuninHMniiiiiiniiiiiinuiiiHniHiiiiiriiiniiinniiiiuniHiiiiiiiiinintiiitiiuiriiniinniiiiniuuiMiiniii:nniNniiriinii|inMuiiiiiiiniiMiiMiiniinininiiiiHinMiinuinHni^ 
 
 PART FIVE 
 
 WE spent two months in New York, the summer in our Central 
 New York home and September second, 1893, sailed for 
 Liverpool on the 12,000 ton S. S. Campania of the Cunard 
 line — such a contrast to the plain, staunch little 3600 ton Steamer 
 Algeria on which we first crossed the ocean. 
 
 To be traveling again was a delight to us both ! Your health had 
 improved so soon as you were free from "task- work" and confmement 
 within doors; you were in fine spirits; time was our own to spend it 
 as we would ; but we little dreamed what wanderers we were henceforth 
 to be, and that we had commenced twenty years of a life in which we 
 were both perfectly happy; a free-and-easy, dolce far niente life; 
 following "the primrose path of dalliance;" going wherever fancy led 
 and remaining until the spirit moved us to make a change; years in 
 which we made six several visits to Europe never staying more than 
 two years nor less than one ; calling ourselves nomads and vagabonds ; 
 declaring that when this trip was over we would settle down, and then 
 deciding to go just once more; weaving a shuttle's path across the 
 continent and between New York and European ports. 
 
 Ah me ! those years of close and constant companionship ! I 
 thank God for those blessed years and their precious memories 
 "pressed in my heart like flowers within a book!" 
 
 In going to and returning from Europe, we always spent 
 several months with relatives in New York, calling the Empire state 
 our half-way house, lying as it did, midway between Europe and San 
 Francisco. We enjoyed the large, gay City immensely, and the old 
 home in summer with fruit in the orchard, roses in the garden, and 
 glorious views in every direction was almost ideal. 
 
 Looking South we saw the Catskill mountains and looking 
 North the Adirondack mountains, both delightful and easily reached, 
 and sometimes in answer to their call we ran away for a while; or we 
 would go to nearby Saratoga Springs to drink the cold, effervescing 
 waters; or to Cooper stown for a sail on Otsego Lake, the "Glimmer- 
 glass" of Cooper, and so went the pleasant, happy days of our stay. 
 
 We found two San Francisco acquaintances on the Campania 
 who were going direct to Paris, but hearing what we had planned, 
 gladly acted upon the suggestion that they should join us, instead. 
 
 We went from Liverpool to Windemere and drove leisurely 
 through the English Lake District. We were a merry party, full of 
 enthusiasm, taking the keenest interest and enjoyment in the pictur- 
 
 Page One Hundred Eighty-seven 
 
niininiinitmiiiiiiniiniiiiiiiiniiinrMiiitMiiMHiuniHniiniininiiiiiiimiiiimmimmiiniiiiMMiuiMniHiniiiiiiiiiMniiniriinniinuiinniiiinMiiiiiiiiMnniMiniMniiniHniiiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Miiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiitimiiniiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiittiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiii 
 
 esque region. The mountains were low, the lakes small; not many- 
 views were grand, but it was all beautiful and charmingly diversified. 
 
 To us personally it was the "Wordsworth Country" and Words- 
 worth had long been one of our favorite poets. Passing Ambleside, 
 we came to Rydal, where we left the carriage, walked up a steep road 
 to Rydal Mount and looked down upon the tree-embowered house in 
 which Wordsworth lived for over thirty years, and where he died. 
 
 At the pretty village of Grasmere we saw the plain, extremely 
 small stone cottage that was for eight years the home of the poet and 
 his sister Dorothy. That child of Nature! charming, gifted Dorothy 
 Wordsworth ! 
 
 We passed Nab Cottage on the bank of a mite of a lake, where 
 Coleridge lived for many years on friendly, intimate terms with his 
 neighbors, William and Dorothy Wordsworth. 
 
 At the small market town of Keswick, where both Shelley and 
 Southey had lived, our delightful drive in that poet-haunted land 
 came to an end. Nearby was Derentwater, the loveliest of all the 
 lakes. From there we walked to a romantic gorge that hemmed in 
 the Falls of Lodore, made famous by Southey's lines, 
 
 "How the water comes down at Lodore." 
 
 From the English lakes we went to Scotland — to Ayr and the 
 land of Burns. We drove over the Brig o' Doon where Tam 
 O'Shanter freed himself from the witches, saw the Burns Monument, 
 looked at Alloways auld, haunted kirk, at the cottage where Burns 
 was born and went to Mauchline Farm where Burns turned down a 
 daisy with his plough; the "Wee, modest, crimson tipped flower." 
 
 Then we said good-by to the brigs and braes, the laverocks and 
 country associated with Burns, and went to that, immortalized by 
 Scott. 
 
 A small steamer carried us the length of lovely Loch Katrine. 
 The richly wooded shores, the steep cliffs, the bold mountain peaks 
 and the exquisite charm of Ellen's Isle — that will live forever in the 
 Lady of the Lake — called forth from our little party exclamations of 
 enthusiastic delight. 
 
 On top of a coach we rode through the romantic, finely wooded 
 valley of the Trossachs. The sun of a September afternoon made 
 perfect, Scott's picture, 
 
 "Each purple peak, each flinty spire. 
 Was bathed in floods of living fire." 
 
 Page One Hundred Eighty-eight 
 
iiniHiHiHiiiiniiiiiiMiiiiiiiniiiitniiniiniiiiMniiininiiMiiiiiHiiiiiiniiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiHiiiiiiiiiiinniiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiniintiiiiiiriiiitiiiiiMiiiiiniiiiiiinnnininiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiMiiiinnniiNniuHiniiiiiiuiiinniniiiiiiniinMiiiiiiniiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimitiiiiiiiiiiniuiiiiHiiiiiiiiniiiiinininiiiuiMininiiniiimiiuiniuiiiiiiiiiinininn 
 
 When we reached the Trossach's Hotel we were all shivering 
 with cold. One of our party suggested hot lemonade with a little 
 stick in it. He went to the bar and orderd hot lemonade. 
 
 The man at the bar said "hot lemon-ade; I never heard of it. 
 If you will tell me how it is made I will see that you get it." 
 
 "Put some sugar and slices of lemon in a glass and pour on hot 
 water" was the answer. 
 
 The man at the bar smiled a supercilious smile, saying "Why 
 what you want is four glasses of hot lemon squash" 
 
 It was good and it was hot ; we clambered back on the coach 
 and rode in comfort to Callander, where we took the train for 
 Stirling. 
 
 Stirling Castle, ancient and picturesque, situated on a lofty 
 height overlooking the town interested us immensely. From a wind- 
 swept terrace of the Upper Court we had a magnificent view of the 
 mountains, water, and an extended plain, embracing the battlefield of 
 Bannockburn. 
 
 From Stirling we went to Edinburgh and the jovial days of our 
 little excursion ended. There our friends left us, speeding away in 
 the night on the "Flying Scotchman." 
 
 We were delighted with Edinburgh. Princes Street with the 
 beautiful Scott Monument, the pretty gardens and general animation 
 was an adorable street; the National Gallery was full of fine pictures 
 and particularly rich in lovely portraits; the old Castle, with draw- 
 bridge, moat and portcullis, high above the City was our objective 
 point at sunset, where we enjoyed a view of the City, the Firth of 
 Forth and the Highlands, and watched the change of Guard to the 
 music of bagpipes — that weird music so captivating to us both that 
 we followed, block after block, every stray piper we fell in with. 
 
 We strolled through the narrow passage-ways of the quaint 
 "Old Town" between houses twelve stories high; went to Holyrood 
 Palace and saw the gloomy rooms Mary, Queen of Scots, occupied. 
 
 From Edinburgh we went to that beautiful, romantic ruin, 
 Melrose Abbey; admired the lovely East window described by Scott 
 in the Lay of the last Minstrel ; then to Abbotsf ord, a stately house on 
 a broad lawn stretching down to the river Tweed — were shown Sir 
 Walter's study and several rooms used by him all full of interesting 
 things, and from Abbotsf ord to Dryburgh Abbey, where Scott and 
 Lockhart rest. 
 
 We spent October in dear, grimy, familiar old London, Novem- 
 
 Page One Hundred Eighty-nine 
 
wniMiniiniiiiiniiiuiiiiiiiiiiMiniiiiiiiiiiiMninnimintniiiiinninnmniimmmmiiiiiimiiiiiHuiiniiMtimHiinnniiniiiitMinninninminiiiniiiiniiniiiniimiinniiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 tiiiiiiiiiiiiHmiuiinniiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiniiimiiiuiniHiniiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiniiiiiMmiiiiiiiiMniiiiiMHiiiHiiiiiiiiiiuiNiiHiiiniiiniiiiminuiniiiiiiiiiiMiMim^^ 
 
 ber in "gay Paree," leaving there on December first for the Riviera. 
 In the country men were plowing with oxen in teams of four or six 
 — they were all drabby-white in color, making a succession of Rosa 
 Bonheur pictures. 
 
 We stopped over night at Dijon in the fertile plain of Bur- 
 gundy. In the old part of the town we saw many quaint houses, a 
 fine Cathedral and an old church with beautiful facade — one of the 
 turrets held a clock, the hours of which were struck by two bizarre 
 figures. We were familiar with the excellent mustard made in Dijon 
 but of the delicious honey cake we had never heard. 
 
 Marseilles, the busy seaport, gave us a pleasanter reception than 
 on our former visit. We saw the harbors, the steep, dark, narrow 
 streets of the old town where the sea-faring people lived, the fine 
 houses on the Prado, the villas on the famous Rue Cannabiere, had 
 a fine view from the hill crowned by the church Notre Dame de la 
 Garde, and on the esplanade sat under a large umbrella on the side- 
 walk and ate bouillabasse, looking the while across the blue water to 
 Chateau d'lf on a nearby island, and talking of Duma's Count of 
 Monte Cristo. 
 
 From Marseilles to Nice, and by a fortunate chance we went to 
 a small, family hotel owned and managed by a warm-hearted, delight- 
 ful French lady who took great pride in the excellence of her cuisine, 
 and in making her guests so comfortable and contented that they 
 willingly dispensed with the modern improvements found in most 
 houses. The house faced full South on a large garden of palm and 
 orange trees with beds of old fashioned flowers and great bunches of 
 lavender, the stems of which went to the closet where bed linen was 
 kept. 
 
 We were given a good sized room with two large, sunny windows 
 looking on the garden. The room was comfortably furnished and 
 prints of famous French beauties hung on the walls ; a heavy red cord 
 with a tassel on the end was a conspicuous object; it connected with a 
 bell in the hall and was the medium through which we summoned a 
 servant. A reading lamp full of olive oil was on the table and large 
 candles — ^bougies — on the mantle and dressing table, only the ground 
 floor (dining room and salons) being lighted by gas. 
 
 It was near the close of day, when a chill comes in all semi-trop- 
 ical climates and Madame ordered a fire. After it was lighted the 
 garcon brought in two baskets that he placed on either side of the 
 grate that we might do our own replenishing. One basket contained 
 pine cones, the other oak wood. 
 
 Page One Hundred Ninety 
 
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiimitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitii niiiiiiiiinMiiniinniminmiminmiiiiiimiiiiinmimniiniiniiiiimiinniniiiinniiiiiMiHiiiuiniHninmiiiiimiiiiiiiimnnMMiimiiiiiiiiiniiiiniM 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 utiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiinniiiiiitiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiKiiiimiiiiiiiimiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin 
 
 After an excellent dinner we were introduced to the permanent 
 winter colony of the house. A half dozen expatriated Americans, 
 mothers and daughters, cultured and agreeable, going back to Boston, 
 their home city, so seldom that when there they felt like strangers in 
 a strange land. Two retired British officers, both of whom had seen 
 service in India. A Scotch lady and her son. Two French couples 
 from Northern France. A German Baron and Baroness located, 
 then and ever after, in the room adjoining ours. A delightful set of 
 people of varied and interesting experience with whom we were soon 
 on pleasant and familiar terms. 
 
 When we went to our room, we put out the lights and sat for a 
 long time before the grate, feeding the fire with resinous pine cones 
 that gave out a deUcious fragrance. We felt very happy, and that 
 "our lines had fallen in pleasant places," but with no thought that in 
 the years to come we would spend from three to four months of eight 
 winter seasons in that house; the room in which we sat a welcome 
 home, where we rested from travel, were content and happy. 
 
 As the season advanced the house became more and more cos- 
 mopolitan, and the people from strange countries with unpronounc- 
 able names interested us greatly. Many Russians, the ladies beauti- 
 fully gowned and inveterate smokers of cigarettes ; a large contingent 
 from the Balkan States "that Motherland of wars" and beautiful 
 women, if we could judge from those we saw; visitors from every 
 part of the civilized World, including a goodly quota from our own 
 native land. 
 
 The light Continental breakfast was served in the rooms, stroll- 
 ing musicians, mostly from Italy singing beneath the windows ; many 
 had good voices and with accompaniment of guitar or mandolin their 
 music was often enjoyable. The dinner hour was seven-thirty o'clock 
 and to break the long fast from luncheon, we fell into the English 
 habit of afternoon tea, taken in our room or at one of the popular 
 tea rooms. 
 
 On Christmas day, our hotel — as was the custom with all — ^gave 
 the guests a great dinner. Choice viands were supplemented by 
 choice wines — sauterne, claret and champagne ad libitum which every 
 gentleman was in honor bound to remember when ordering from the 
 wine card thereafter. 
 
 During the winter an occasional fancy dress or masquerade party 
 in which every one joined would be gotten up, and on ordinary even- 
 ings there was dancing for the young set, and in the card room a good 
 game of bridge for us. 
 
 We spent five seasons in the old-fashioned house and then re- 
 
 Page One Hundred Ninety-one 
 
■iiHiiitirniiiiiinrnniirHriiHmmnininniiMiiirinniiiHnnininiiiintninnuiimiiiriHiiiiNiiiiiiiiiiiinintiniiinMrniiiiniiiiniiHiiiHiiiiniiiininiiiininmnrtMtiiiiiiiiniu 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 ■imininnuiiiiiniHinimiiMiiiiiimiininniniiuiiiMiiiiniiiiiumnHHHminmiiminHmiiumiuuiumimiiniiiiiMiiiiininiiiiuiiiiiiirMimiiMinuiiiiniiiniuiinMHiiniiH 
 
 turned to find that dear Madame V. had sold the establishment to an 
 hotelier from Paris. The new proprietor had introduced what from 
 his point of view were the requirements of modern life. Small tables 
 in the dining room where the long tables d'hote had stood. Pipes for 
 steam and electricity found their way within the old walls. Our lamp 
 and wax candles were replaced by electric lights ; our red bell cord by 
 an electric push button; but saddest of all was the arrogant radiator 
 and the closing of the cheerful fireplace that had given us so much 
 pleasure. 
 
 The prices under the new management were much advanced, but 
 nothing was added to comfort. Most of the old set were still there 
 and through their intercession we secured our old room, but for a 
 long time we sighed for our lamp and bougies ; our oak wood and our 
 resinous pine cones. 
 
 Ah me! that friendly, familiar house! How often at an early 
 morning hour, when as migratory birds about to wing our way to 
 other scenes, at nearly every window of the pleasant front some one 
 would be stationed to see us off. Then, as our carriage rolled away 
 we would see a flutter of hands and hear in chorus, good-by, au revoir, 
 aufwiedersehen. 
 
 The bright, little City of Nice had many attractions. The open 
 air market and the long row of women under large, gay umbrellas 
 surrounded by beautiful flowers in great variety and moderate in 
 price. Every morning the place was thronged by visitors admiring 
 and buying, and little girls with baskets on their pretty heads were 
 carrying home the flowers ladies had bought. 
 
 In shop windows we saw lovely creations from the great cou- 
 turieres of Paris; and precious stones in exquisite setting sent by the 
 jewelers of the Rue de la Paix; and the pawnbroking establishment 
 of Paris, the Mont-de-piete offered for sale rare and curious pieces 
 of jewelry, heirlooms undoubtedly, lost by victims of play at Monte 
 Carlo. 
 
 In the shop of Potin, the famous Paris grocer, we saw luxuries 
 from all parts of the World, but nothing that compared in beauty 
 to the pears and apples grown on espaliers in the fair land of France. 
 In infancy the pears were encased in thin, pear-shaped glasses to 
 protect them from bees, birds, wind and rain ; and on sunny walls they 
 grew and ripened and took on a wonderful color. Each in a nest of 
 white cotton wool, the red cheek uppermost, they were a pretty sight. 
 Considering the care bestowed upon them the price of ten francs each 
 was not excessive, but we never had the courage to buy one, although 
 
 Page One Hundred Ninety-two 
 
tiiHiitmriMiiiinrinniiMriiiiirnmiiitniiiiiiininnjiniiniiriirMinntniiiMirniiniiiimiiiriiiinirntiiririiiiMitiiHMriitinnHninnnnMiiniiiiriinMiinmiiMirmtiinnritmiMiiuti^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 miiiiiiiiMnniinniiiiiiMininiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiniiiiiiiiininniiiniiiiiHiiiiiiHiiiumiiiiiiuiMiiiiiniitiiiiiiuimiiuiiminiiiiuiniiiinnnniiiinNnnniiiiniiMiiiHiiiin 
 
 we did treat ourselves now and then to a large apple — a rennet — at 
 a franc and a half and found it so good that you said it was well 
 worth the money. 
 
 The proprietor of a small flower shop that we often visited was 
 a very wizard in horticulture. He showed us one day two bushes 
 of white lilacs in full bloom, and a cherry tree loaded with ripe, red 
 fruit that he was just sending to the villa of a Russian nobleman, 
 filling an order given the previous winter. The little tree stood on a 
 platform with castors and was to go from guest to guest at a January 
 birthday dinner party. 
 
 The walks about Nice were many and all full of charm. Some- 
 times we sauntered with the fashionable crowd on the Promenade 
 des Anglais along the sea shore, but the walks of our delight were 
 among the encircling hills, where from summits we saw the snow- 
 crowned Alps — going through villa gardens from one to another on 
 and up "without let or hindrance;" but as tourist travel increased 
 and depredations became common — I am sorry to say Americans were 
 considered the worst offenders — the privilege was gradually narrowed 
 until over the entrance to every villa garden the sign, "defendu 
 d'entrer," or "rue barree," met our eyes. The villas were lovely; 
 built on classic lines ; of pale-tinted stucco in colors of cream, olive or 
 tan, with flower gardens, palms and pines and orange trees, and shin- 
 ing far below, the blue, sun-lit sea. 
 
 Often our path led through old olive groves, the trees of great 
 size, and always a picturesque Patriarch or two with gnarled and 
 twisted trunk that scientists said must have been planted by the 
 Romans, when having captured the Maritime Alps they established a 
 seat of Government at Cimiez, one of the low hills back of Nice, 
 where the ruins of an amphitheater and baths yet remain. 
 
 Frequently we came upon the gathering of the small but abund- 
 ant fruit. Men in the trees beating down the olives, women and chil- 
 dren picking them up. One day we followed a pretty girl with her 
 two buckets of olives to a mill, where by the most primitive process 
 the fruit was crushed and the oil freed. From these small mills the 
 oil was taken to refining houses and prepared for market. 
 
 Our favorite walk of all led to the heights above through the 
 open country dotted with thickets of bay trees, myrtle, and bunches of 
 rosemary, the ground covered with fragrant aromatic herbs — sweet 
 thyme, sage, sweet marjoram and wild lavender. As our feet bruised 
 and broke the dry stems and leaves, they gave out a most delightful 
 perfume. In the spring, from those sweet blossoming plants the 
 
 Page One Hundred Ninety-three 
 
•iiiiuiticiiiiiitHiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiinHiiiMninntiiiMiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiniiiiiHitiimiiiiiiHiniiinintiiniiiiiiiiiiinitiiiitiiitnniiniMniiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMirMinniiiiniiiiiiiiiiiinn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii MniiuiiniiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinmiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiMiiiiimiiiiiiiiimiimiiimiiiimiiuiimiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiw 
 
 bees made the famous miel de Nice. The honey had a strong flavor 
 of herbs that we were very fond of and always had it on our break- 
 fast table. 
 
 From the time when King Carnival arrived, escorted by 
 mounted gendarmes, bands of music and trumpeters, to the night 
 when he was burned in the market place, his throne transformed into 
 a funeral pile, general demoralization prevailed in Nice. The hotels 
 were over-crowded, the natives gave themselves up to idleness, and 
 small shops where work and repairs were done were never open. 
 
 Most of the winter habitues dreaded and detested the Carnival. 
 The new-comers were curious, interested, or enthusiastic. I belonged 
 to the latter class and was keen to take an active part. When I 
 learned that the Baron, the Admiral and the Colonel had each in 
 their first season participated, I coaxed and coaxed until you con- 
 sented to go. 
 
 We left the house a merry party of twenty, every one in mask 
 and domino. When we reached the large square where the maskers 
 congregated we were soon separated. When I saw you again you 
 were defending yourself against three girls who were trying to take 
 off your mask. I was amused, but remembering how reluctantly you 
 had come, and that you would dislike to have your mask pulled from 
 your face, I stepped between you and your assailants saying, "Three 
 against one is not fair play," upon which they all ran away. 
 
 You said you were glad I had come to the rescue and laughed so 
 heartily that I was surprised and disappointed when you added, 
 
 "No more of this foolishness for me. I am going to make a 
 bee-line for home." 
 
 I remained with the party and went with them occasionally dur- 
 ing that and subsequent seasons when thousands of human beings, 
 each in mask and domino made the streets and squares a scene of 
 brightness and animation. 
 
 The Carnival procession with music and banners, particularly 
 by torchlight, was unique and spectacular. Money prizes were large 
 and competition keen. Floats, and masks on foot; gigantic and 
 dwarfed; grotesque and picturesque. Many floats bore colossal 
 figures, the heads towering thirty feet in the air; many masks single 
 or in groups were bizarre, many laughable, many artistic ; the prettiest 
 group we ever saw consisted of twelve handsome Russians, six 
 young men and six young women richly dressed in the picturesque 
 skating costume of their country. 
 
 It was always a gala afternoon when the Battle of Flowers was 
 
 Page One Hundred Ninety-four 
 
wiiiHrMHiininiiiiHiiHiiniiMniniriniiiHiiiniiiHiiiiiiiiiHiiinMniiMnniiuMunniniiitiniiiHiiiiniMmiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinHiiiiiiiiniiniiiiHniniinniiiiniiniiiiniiMiiiniiiini 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiinininiiiniiMniMiiiiiiiiiniMiiniiiiMHiniiiiiuininiinniiiiiniiMnininiiinuiiiiniiiiiniiiiMiniHniniiiiiihniiMiiuinuinniiiiniiiuniinunniinninMniniiuiiiiiimiiiuininiiiim 
 
 on, with crowds in the streets to hear the music and see the proces- 
 sion — the pretty banners given as prizes and the long line of flower- 
 laden carriages taking people to the entrance gate. There were many 
 beautifully decorated equipages but the function was commercialized 
 and any shabby hack with a few flowers tied here and there was ad- 
 mitted to the course upon payment of the entrance fee. 
 
 One glorious day we went to Cannes, where a wealthier and more 
 exclusive set wintered, and saw the Battle of Flowers there. We 
 secured our seats, then walked down to the beautiful bay in full 
 view of the course. We counted forty yachts riding at anchor deco- 
 rated with bright colored signals, and flags were flying from fishing 
 boats drawn up in line along the shore. 
 
 The Admiral sent a man-of-war from the French squadron to 
 dignify the occasion, and with the thunder of a salute, a blare of 
 trumpets and the music of bands the battle commenced. The number 
 of carriages was not large, but every carriage and the harness of 
 every horse was decorated with choice flowers and bows and streamers 
 of rich ribbon; and the lovely toilets of the ladies were in perfect 
 harmony. 
 
 The first prize, an exquisite banner painted in water colors, was 
 awarded to Mme. Pommery of champagne fame whose equipage was 
 adorned profusely with orchids, Marechal Niel roses, and white lilacs. 
 The members of the yacht club warred around a flower-built yacht 
 that was "a thing of beauty." 
 
 For many years Queen Victoria spent a part of every winter in 
 a Villa on Cimiez hill, and the Queen, in a pony phaeton, Princess 
 Henry of Battenberg driving, and two small boys on low stools 
 facing them, were familiar objects on our walks among the secluded 
 hills of Nice. 
 
 The phaeton was often seen at a Battle of Flowers stationed 
 where the occupants could witness the fun. On one occasion we left 
 our seats to walk about and passing near the phaeton I threw a bunch 
 of Marie-Louise violets in it. 
 
 "You should not have done that," you said, "there are notices 
 that no flowers are to be thrown at the Queen." 
 
 One of the Battenberg boys picked up the violets and gave them 
 to her Majesty. I did not get into trouble and we had the pleasure 
 of seeing the Queen inhale the fragrance of my violets with evident 
 satisfaction. 
 
 In the latter years of our visits to Nice, horses and carriages 
 
 Page One Hundred Ninety-iive 
 
iHiiMiiimiiHtinnimiiiiiiniininiiMniiririininuHniiiiniirirniirminiiiniiiiiuimuMniiiiiiiinniMiiniiiniiiHnnirHimiiiiiiiiuiiiMiiiniiiiiiitiniiMiriitniiimimiu^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aiuniniiiiiiiiniiuiiiiiiiiiiiinnminiiniiiiiiiiiuuiniiiiiiiniiiHiiimiiliiiiniiiitiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiniiiiiniiniiitiinnMMiiinniiimiiiMiriiiimiiniiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiiniHU 
 
 were mostly supplanted by automobiles in the Battle of Flowers, and 
 aviators circled overhead, dropping flowers on the course. 
 
 In January, 1894, an American squadron came to Mediterranean 
 waters. The families of the Officers in large numbers crossed the 
 ocean and followed the ships and we had many of those delightful 
 people at our house while the squadron was anchored at Villefranche 
 three miles away. A French squadron came to welcome the visiting 
 ships and the officers of the two flagships gave several afternoon 
 receptions that were perfectly charming. The decks were enclosed by 
 American and French flags, the ceilings festooned with bunting; 
 and the shining black canon seemed quite in keeping with the music, 
 the flowers, the pretty gowns, the handsome uniforms, the mirth and 
 good cheer of a the dansante. 
 
 With a party of Officers and their wives we had our first ride 
 over the world-famous corniche road, with its glorious views; and 
 with the same party we made the first of our many visits to Monte 
 Carlo, naturally and artificially one of the beauty spots of the Earth. 
 We strolled through the gorgeous gambling rooms, rested under the 
 trees in the flower-gemmed gardens, and from the long stretch of 
 marble terrace looked over the turquoise-blue water to the mountains 
 with their ever- varying amethyst tints. 
 
 The first of April we went South. At Paestum we saw the 
 great Temples standing on the forlorn plain; stood before the tawny- 
 colored, majestic Temple of Neptune and admired the graceful 
 outlines silhouetted against the blue of sky and sea; watched the 
 lizards sunning themselves on the Doric columns; looked in vain for 
 the famous and fragrant Roses of Paestum of which the Poets had 
 sung, and then, through a poor looking country where long-horned, 
 dun-colored cattle roamed, we went to the pretty little town of 
 La Cava. 
 
 The gardens were full of sweet-scented stock, jasmine and wall 
 flowers. In open doorways women with small, bright-colored shawls 
 around their shoulders were spinning, and through open windows we 
 saw others working at looms. It was the twilight hour and mighty 
 hunters, men and boys, were coming from their days sport. 
 
 In Naples we had often wondered where all the little birds came 
 from that we saw in the markets. La Cava seemed to be the head- 
 quarters for that barbarous work. Trapped, caught with snares and 
 shot! basketfuls of thrushes, blackbirds, robins, green linnets, night- 
 ingales and gold finches. Dear little feathered creatures! Their 
 happy songs all ended! 
 
 Page One Hundred Ninety-six 
 
uttiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiii iniiiiiiiitriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiriiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiitiininiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiinHiu 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 timiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiritiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiitiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiniiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiniiininiiiiiiiiiMiiili imi 
 
 We had a very nice dinner at the hotel, one course of which 
 neither of us could touch. On a silver skewer little birds, each not 
 more than a mouthful. With the dessert, a delicacy — fit food for the 
 gods — was served. Bunches of raisins dipped in wine, sprinkled with 
 spices, rolled up in grape leaves, tied in bundles and roasted. 
 
 The next morning we went to Salerno. The old town on the 
 slope of a hill, had narrow, crooked streets up one of which we 
 walked to the Cathedral; a fine church with beautiful bronze doors. 
 In the market place hundreds of little birds threaded on strings were 
 for sale. 
 
 The drive to Amalfi, ten miles away, was perfectly delightful. 
 The fine road, hewn in the cliif s, supported by galleries and running 
 over viaducts was carried from 100 to 500 feet above sea level and 
 curved around headland after headland of the indented, rocky, pictur- 
 esque shore, giving a succession of charming views. Every possible 
 foot of ground, on the bare hillsides, was cultivated and planted with 
 vines, fig, olive, lemon or orange trees, many little rock-bound 
 patches no larger than a good sized room. 
 
 We saw pretty towns with terraced gardens of fruit trees, and 
 at the bottom of ravines picturesque little fishing villages and many 
 old, square, massive watch towers ; some in ruins, some restored and 
 converted into homes. 
 
 When we reached Amalfi we climbed up the 175 steps to the 
 Albergo Cappuccini Convento. As we stepped breathless upon the 
 terrace two ladies ran with outstretched hands to welcome us. They 
 were wives of Naval Officers who had spent the winter at our hotel 
 in Nice. 
 
 And oh, that terrace ! beloved by artists and tourists ! The thick, 
 white pillars twined around by grape vines; the heavy, wooden cross 
 beams above with the closely woven mass of verdure; the view over 
 the gardens, the town below and the blue water dotted with white 
 sails! — how ideally beautiful it was! 
 
 We had a light lunch in the old refectory, a large, bare room 
 with vaulted ceiling and a stone pulpit; then our party of four went 
 down the steep path leading from the terrace to the town, on our 
 way up Mill Valley — the Valle de Molini, to see the swift, little river 
 and mills, that Longfellow had written of in his beautiful poem on 
 Amalfi. 
 
 With the musical lines on our lips, and in our minds a picture 
 of the Canneto, tumbling through the narrow gorge and turning the 
 wheels of the mills we reached the town. In a trice the beggars were 
 
 Page One Hundred Ninety-seven 
 
■niiiiniiiiinnmiMiiiMtinniiiniriiiiriniiiiinMiMiininniiitiiiimmiiimimirHnmiirmHmmiiniinmiiiiriiiMtnniiiuiiiiiiiiiinmiiiiniiiiiimiiiiiiiininitiiiiiimi^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 imniuiiiiiiiiMuiiniiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiriinirininMiiiiiiiiniiiiiiininiimniiiiiiiHiimiiiimiiiiiiiiiniiiininiuiiiiiimiiiiiiiinniiitiitiiinniiiiiiniiiiiiiniiHiinmn^ 
 
 upon us. A few soldi and rapid walking soon rid us of the old and 
 infirm, but from the swarm of children there was no escape. Swarthy, 
 hair and eyes intensely black, legs and feet brown and dirty, in rags 
 and tatters and patches of red and yellow on their scant clothing they 
 were picturesque little nuisances. All were dying of hunger — morte 
 de fame their whining cry. 
 
 Then a discovery was made, and chattering like magpies they 
 clustered before one of our friends. They blocked her path, walking 
 backwards and staring at her face. You pushed and shook the boys 
 and scolded the girls but it did no good. Suddenly the persecuted 
 one said with a laugh, 
 
 '^I know what the children are looking at — the gold in my teeth." 
 
 Not yet twent}^ the frail teeth plentifully plugged with gold, 
 very animated and always smiling, the gold was much in evidence. 
 Showing no annoyance, smihng on the children and laughing at our 
 indignation, we made what progress we could. It took the little imps 
 a long time to satisfy their curiosity, then they dropped behind and 
 set up the morte de fame whine. 
 
 The gorge was very narrow, with many pretty cascades of 
 purplish water that provided power for the mills. On both banks a 
 succession of small factories making paper, soap and macaroni. 
 Bridges spanned the swift river, and winding stone stairways led to 
 heights above. Up these steep stairways bare-footed women and 
 girls with long baskets strapped to their backs were slowly moving. 
 
 "Stately figures, tall and straight," 
 
 and we asked with Longfellow, 
 
 "What inexorable fate. 
 Has bound them to this life of toil?" 
 
 The rocky gorge was full of noise and industry. Pretty girls 
 employed in the factories smiled at us from open doorways, and men 
 gave the forestieri pleasant greeting. 
 
 Back in the town we went up a broad flight of steps to the 
 grand, old Cathedral whose tall, red and white marble campanile we 
 had seen shining against the blue sky since first Amalfi came in 
 sight. The beautiful doors were of chiseled bronze; the interior im- 
 pressive and sweet with incense. We looked into the pretty cloistered 
 court, then down to the quaint old square adorned by a fountain and 
 a statue of St. Andrew, the patron Saint of Amalfi. 
 
 Surrounded by beggars we continued on to the shore of the Bay 
 
 Page One Hundred Ninety-eight 
 
tiHiiiiiiiiniinMitriiiiiirinnriiiriiinNiiiiMiiitMiinniiiuiiiiiinininniiiiiniiiiiiriiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniitiiitnnirniinriiiinnriinniiriiiiinHiiiuiiiininniinMiiinniMiiniiiim 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 'iiuMniinnnruriiiuiiunHMniiriiniiinMiiiHtinMiniininiuiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiuiMiitnuiiiiiiiiniHiHniiiiiiinniniiiiiriiiiiHiMiiiiiniiiiniiniiiuiiininiiHniiiiiiinnMiiiiiiiiiiiniii 
 
 where women were mending nets, children playing in the sand and 
 fishermen in red caps and sashes were cleaning and painting their 
 boats. To our great relief the fishermen drove the beggars, old and 
 young, back to the town. 
 
 We met many sad-faced, brown-robed Capuchin friars with bare 
 feet and girdles of knotted rope. We did feel sorry for those poor 
 monks driven from such a Paradise as the monastery above, which 
 we were privileged to enjoy. It was a tired party that climbed the 
 winding steps near the close of day and walked through the long, 
 white-washed corridors to their little cells, each furnished with a 
 chair, a tiny wash-stand and an iron bed. 
 
 Rest, a good dinner, then a glorious evening on the terrace, 
 under a star-lit sky, the breeze wafting perfume from the garden, 
 and quivering on the water below long lines of yellow light reflected 
 from the lamps of the town. 
 
 Dolce far niente — yes, it surely was sweet to do nothing for an 
 entire day in that delightful place, but walk among the flowers and 
 under the orange and lemon trees; to hear the birds singing and 
 watch from the terrace the fishing boats gliding over the dazzling 
 water. I thought it a great hardship for you to go to the town to 
 arrange for a carriage on the morrow and when I saw you returning 
 ran down the steps with a rose in my hand which I gave you when 
 we met. You took the rose and kissed my hand, saying, 
 
 "Is this your idea of taking a rest? I ought to scold you for 
 coming to meet me." 
 
 But I knew you were pleased and we went up the steps hand 
 in hand. 
 
 "What a little thing to remember for years. 
 To remember — with tears!" 
 
 Early the next morning we went down to the waiting carriage, 
 with many a backward glance at the arcaded facade of the Convent 
 Hotel. The road, as from Salerno to Amalfi, curved around the 
 clifl's of the coast, wild, indented and picturesque, with lovely views 
 and careful cultivation. We were all on the watch for the Isles of 
 the Sirens, past which Ulysses safely sailed when searching for his 
 island home and his faithful Penelope. Rising from the blue waters, 
 we saw the bare, rocky bluff's of the Greek legend, to which golden- 
 haired Sirens lured their prey, as told in the Odyssey. 
 
 The delightful Corniche road was not yet completed, and we 
 covered the break in a row boat, between two villages, a distance of 
 
 Page One Hundred Ninety nine 
 
MiiitniiiiiiiiiitMiiniiiitnMiinitiiiiuiMiminiiiiiiiinMnnininiinniiiniiiiimmiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiininiiiiiinniinMiininiiiiiniiiiinniniinintinniMiiiiiiiinminiunnm 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 ininiiiiuiiiiiniiiiiiiiiHiiniiiiiiiiinnMMiiiiiiiiiMiuiiiMHiniinnunniinMiMniHniiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiliniiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiim 
 
 four miles. As we slipped along over the sparkling water, she of 
 the golden smile, and a few Italian words began to coax the boatmen 
 for un canto. At first they only shrugged their shoulders and smiled. 
 She returned the smiles and continued to ask for un canto. After a 
 little talk between themselves they sang a boating song with clear, 
 strong, musical voices. We were delighted and so full of enthusiasm 
 that they repeated it, and after that, in response to entreaties sang 
 one canto d' amore after another. 
 
 Under the shelving rocks masses of sea anemones of many 
 colors and brilliant as a garden bed gladdened our eyes. Sometimes 
 we saw them through the clear water, sometimes as the little waves 
 receded and left them bare, and very lovely they were. 
 
 As we stepped out of the boat at Positano — where a carriage 
 from Sorento was to meet us — ^we found a bevy of young girls await- 
 ing us. The ascent to the street was very steep and stony. The girls 
 clustered around us talking with animation and going through cer- 
 tain motions, but it took a long time to make us understand what 
 they wanted — that we should clasp our hands, or fold our arms, that 
 they might help us up the bank by our elbows. 
 
 As there were not enough elbows to go around, some of the 
 girls had to be satisfied with hand-bags. At last all but two were 
 provided with work. Of course, you would not consent to the elbow 
 help, but compromised by giving your overcoat to the disconsolate 
 little damsels to carry between them. Then all was ready. Soon as 
 the procession started the girls began to sing. It was a rhj^thmic 
 little tune with the soft-sounding Italian words spoken distinctly and 
 prettily. 
 
 "Chi va piano, va sano e lontano, 
 
 Chi va forte, va a la morte." 
 
 We did go slowly; we could not have done otherwise, and with 
 the words sung over and over again, we reached the level of the 
 town. 
 
 We ate the lunch (put up for us at the Hotel where our carriage 
 was waiting) on the mountain road. The air was scented with broom 
 and myrtle that grew on the wild hillside. Little towns perched on 
 mountain summits, ruins of watch towers whose bells gave warning 
 when pirates approached, patches of verdure, and beyond the sharp, 
 tapering cliffs of the coast line the wonderful blue of the sea. A 
 most delightful road! 
 
 Suddenly, the Bay of Naples came in sight, and then by curve 
 after curve we descended to the fertile plain ; to vineyards, and groves 
 
 Page Two Hundred 
 
wniitinniiiiiiiniiiiiiiiunniniininnMiiiiinniiMiiiiniiiininiiiiHiiinnuinnMimiiimniiniiiiimiiuimnHniiiiiHiiiMnitiinmiiiniiiiiiMiiiiiniiiiminHiMmimiiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 mHiijrnnHiuiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiinMiiiininMiMiiiiiiiiiuMiiiiniiiMiiiiiinmiliiniiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinMnumniniiiHirriiMiriMniuiiinniiinMiMnuiiuiiMnmiuniinMnuuiinuunninunniitin 
 
 of orange, lemon and fig ; to tree-embowered villas and cottages ; and 
 Sorento. 
 
 We took an afternoon boat to Naples, went with our charming 
 friends to their Hotel, renewed acquaintance with several Officers 
 and their families, and the following day said good-by and turned 
 our faces to the North. 
 
 We spent several days in Rome then went to Bologna, the first 
 of many visits to that pleasant, interesting middle-age City. Our 
 hotel was an old palace that had been the home of a great family in 
 Bologna's palmy days. The house was charming with spacious rooms 
 and an inner court surrounded by beautiful galleries. 
 
 The proprietor matched the house. He was handsome and 
 courjteous; spoke English imperfectly, accenting the vowels and 
 making many words sound strange but musical. As we were starting 
 out to see the City you asked where to find certain objects of interest. 
 Our host said he was going in the same direction and we walked out 
 together. He told us he was on his way to see his pet — a caged 
 nightingale that he had been obliged to send to a friend's house that 
 his guests might have quiet and sleep through the night, — that now, 
 the bird would not sing a note except during his visits, eating little 
 and moping and pining so constantly that he feared his pet might die. 
 Finding us muy simpatica, he invited us to go with him and see the 
 bird. The poor little thing sat on his perch with ruffled feathers, his 
 head under a wing. When he heard the familiar whistle out came the 
 little head. Our host put a finger through the bars of the cage; the 
 bird hopped upon it and burst into the wildest, most ecstatic song. 
 That dear bird! what a wonderful voice he had! We listened for a 
 long time, then left the re-united friends and went on our way. 
 
 We saw the old University where Dante, Petrarch and Tasso 
 were students ; the two leaning towers ; the arcaded streets with quaint 
 houses; the grand, old plane trees; the factories and shops where the 
 famous Bologna sausage — ^mortadella — was made and displayed; in 
 some windows wrapped with fancy labels for tourists to carry away. 
 
 We went to Ferrara and Padua; both delightful and full of 
 romantic and historical interest. 
 
 When we reached Venice we found great excitement prevailing 
 over the coming visits of the King of Italy and the Emperor of 
 Germany. The King came on the day of our arrival, and the 
 Emperor the day following. 
 
 Salvos of artillery burst upon the air as his Majesty's beautiful, 
 
 Page Two Hundred One 
 
'iiiiiiiiiriirniitiMiiniiinininitiMiiiiiMirinniuiriniiniiiiniiiunniiiiiiiiHiiiniiuiiiMiiiiiiuiniininiiiinHnimrmniiiniiHniiiminiiiiiiilHiiiiiiiitinmiiiiiniiiiniiirHii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiHiiiMimniiiiiiiiiiiiiMmiiiiiiiiuininiiiiriinniiMinjnuiiniinMiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiinmmiiiiHiiiiiHiiitiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiiiiniininiiininininniiHiin 
 
 white yacht, the Hohenzollern came to anchor at the mouth of the 
 Grand Canal. 
 
 The King in a State gondola flying the flag of Italy paid his 
 visit of ceremony. On the yacht's deck the Monarchs met, saluting 
 each other on both cheeks as is the custom on the Continent of 
 Europe between men — relatives or friends and particularly so among 
 the Germans. Soon after the King's return, the Emperor in one of 
 his own boats was rowed ashore. Down the wide crimson carpet that 
 stretched from the Royal Palace to the waters edge the King came 
 to meet his guest. Together they went up the steps, then turned to 
 look at the spectacle before them. 
 
 And what a spectacle it was! Hundreds and hundreds of 
 gondolas dotted the water. A few shabby gondolas with women and 
 children of the poor; smart gondolas of the prosperous class; trim 
 gondolas filled with happy tourists glad to be in Venice on that 
 festive occasion; handsome gondolas of the foreign resident colony; 
 elegant gondolas of the aristocracy with carving and crests and gold 
 embroidered canopies and statuesque gondoliers in handsome uni- 
 form. 
 
 Many families brought out their gondolas of State with gondo- 
 liers in the dress of the olden time, parti-colored hose, slashed doublets 
 and long yellow ringlets falling beneath the quaintest of hats. And 
 ah! Dear Heart, what delight those gondolas gave us! with their 
 patrician occupants. Men and lovely women with faces like those 
 the old Venetian Masters painted. 
 
 The Grand Canal was aglow with color. Italian and German 
 flags fluttered in the breeze. Windows and balconies were hung with 
 tapestries, bright-colored velvets and Oriental rugs, and the sparkling, 
 sunlit water reflected the brilliant Palace facades and the gorgeous 
 pageant that passed along. 
 
 After dinner we went to the Piazza of St. Mark. We found 
 many people there all looking towards the Palace. In response to re- 
 peated calls for il Re and VImperatore, the King and Emperor ap- 
 peared upon the balcony bowing and smiling upon the crowd below. 
 Once again they came in answer to continued calls, then retiring with- 
 in the Palace the shades were drawn before the windows and the 
 crowd dispersed. 
 
 At ten o'clock there was a serenata. A large, military band in a 
 decorated barge, lighted by lanterns of various color came down the 
 Grand Canal, filling the air with most delightful music. On both 
 sides of the barge and in the rear hundreds of gondolas rolled gently 
 
 Page Two Hundred Two 
 
MiinMiiininniiiiiiiiiniiiiniinmMiniiiitimniiniitiiiiiinmitiiiMtiininitiiiriiiiiiHininHriiiiiiiiiiiniiitiiiiiiiiiriiniiHiimMHiinitinmmiiinmiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 'mniuiiiiniiniiiinniiiuMuiMiunMinMiiiiiiJininniMnninMniniiriiMiiiMiiiiiinitiiiiiiiuiiiiiiinMiiriiitniiiiniiiinMMiHiiiiiiininimiiiiiiiinniiiHiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiniinitiiiHiiiinn 
 
 to the rhythm of the music and the sea, while the numberless lanterns 
 of every color and shade were reflected in the trembling, dancing 
 water. Under the twinkling stars and a glorious full moon, it was 
 a fairy-like scene of beauty unsurpassed. 
 
 The next day (Sunday) the King and Emperor devoted to the 
 beautiful pictures in the churches and galleries. That night a gala 
 performance was given in their honor at the famous Fenice Theater. 
 The house was packed from pit to dome, but the Emperor had con- 
 scientious scruples about going to the theater on Sunday. As the 
 Emperor would not, the King could not, and the large audience — in 
 which, thanks to your good sense, we were not included — sat through 
 a poor performance, expectant to the very end. 
 
 Monday morning the HohenzoUern with the Emperor on board 
 put out to sea. The King returned to Rome and Venice settled down 
 to a normal condition. 
 
 Over the merits of the gondola we never could agree and my 
 enthusiasm was quite lost upon you. The seat was too low, the slope 
 of the back uncomfortable and the position cramped. You did not 
 like to hear the swish of water at the bow, nor the raucous cry of the 
 gondolier when turning a corner, and when in time the unromantic 
 little steamers with their shrill whistles appeared on the Grand Canal 
 you welcomed them with pleasure. I declared I would never ride in 
 one and ended by finding them very comfortable; and fortunately 
 they could not rob us of our many delicious hours spent in the narrow, 
 devious waterways, seeing over the slender, steel, serrated prow of the 
 gondola the gardens of Venice. 
 
 We knew many, and they were so pretty, those little patches of 
 green, with a tree or two, and flowers blooming in the midst of 
 water, mortar and brick. Our visits to Venice were generally in 
 April, and we never failed to see a garden, then in its very perfection. 
 A red brick wall half hidden by a veil of purple wisteria and yellow 
 banksia roses. Peeping over the top scarlet buds of pomegranate; 
 the air scented with daphne and orange blossoms and in a vine- 
 covered pergola nightingales singing joyously. 
 
 Standing on our balcony in admiration of sky and water and 
 the beautiful church opposite, of Santa Maria della Salute, there 
 once appeared to our eyes, a picture no words could describe and 
 no brush portray. 
 
 In the golden light of a lovely sunset a large fleet of fishing- 
 boats with soft-colored Lateen sails of orange, purple and red, came 
 from the sea into the Grand Canal. It was a radiant vision, almost 
 
 Page Two Hundred Three 
 
iitiMiiiiiiniiiiiiinHMiniiiniiirniiiMiiiniiiMiMiinMniiinEiiiuniiiniiiiniiniimiiiiiMinmiiiiniiiiiininimiinnininiHiMnMiiiiimiiiniiiiiiiinniiniiininMiniunniininwiiiiiiiiiiinn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 luiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiMiitiiMiiiiiiiniiMniiitiuiiiiintiiniHiiuniiniiinniiiiriiiiiimiuiiimiiiiiMiiiiiniiiiiiuiiniiniiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiimniiiiinniiiiMH 
 
 unearthly in its ethereal beauty, while it held the sunset gleam. That 
 gone we saw it "fade into the light of common day." Many Satur- 
 days thereafter, at the sunset hour, we watched for the fishing fleets 
 return. The boats came singly or in pairs looking very pretty, but 
 the exquisite vision of the fleet entire, we never saw again. 
 
 When we were planning to leave Venice you said, "It will re- 
 quire some extra traveling but like Nadaud's old French peasant, I 
 want to see Carcasonne." We went to Montpelier, a pleasant, old- 
 fashioned town with winding streets and a terrace commanding grand 
 views of the Pyrenees and Alps, then on to Carcasonne. On one side 
 of the river a well built town with boulevards and fountains and 
 handsome squares. Across the river on the summit of an isolated hill, 
 the chief surviving example of a walled town and central castle with 
 towers, parapets, and pinnacles and a Cathedral with lofty spire, 
 presenting altogether an imposing architectural efl'ect. 
 
 As we were toiling up the hill we met a bridal procession coming 
 from the Cathedral. The train of the bride's sleazy white satin dress 
 was spread out on the dusty roadway and kept in place by two girls 
 (bridesmaids, probably) . Around the bride's neck a string of orange 
 blossoms that fell to her feet. There was a large party. Two musi- 
 cians in rusty attire with shovel hats, a fife and a flute, led the pro- 
 cession;- following the French custom of their class there would be 
 dancing after the wedding breakfast. 
 
 In the old walled city we found the streets narrow, irregular, 
 very dirty and occupied by a scanty, poverty-stricken population. 
 From the ramparts we had a lovely view. 
 
 At lunch we met an English couple — ^Sir Alfred and Lady — 
 They were touring France on bicycles ; bright, intelligent and agree- 
 able, we thoroughly enjoyed our interchange of opinions and experi- 
 ence while loitering over the table. Lady — was tall and shapely, but 
 her face was too weather-beaten for good looks. Seeing the couple 
 later, we were rather critical over the extreme abandon of Lady — s 
 demeanor; she sat on a narrow porch with — to borrow an expression 
 from one of Jane Austen's novels — "crossed jambs," and being tall, 
 every one that passed brushed against her far extended foot; but 
 smiling and serene, without changing her position in the least she 
 smoked her cigarettes. 
 
 Next morning we rode through many miles of vineyards in the 
 Medoc region before reaching Bordeaux, a delightful city with hand- 
 some homes, surrounded by splendid boulevards, lofty warehouses 
 and busy quays. Of the city's many statues, two of heroic size 
 
 Page Two Hundred Four 
 
»iuiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiitMiiiiiniiitir»iiiiiHiiiiiMriiriMniinnniiiNiiimiNiiiiiiiiirimrniiiiiiiiiiiiiiinirriiiiNiiHHiiiiiiiiiiMinttinHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiniirHiiiiiiiiini 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 4iiiinminiiuniiniuiinimmnnuiuiMiiiMiMiiiiuiiMiiiMiiiiiiiiiuiniiiiiiiiiiiMimiMimuiiiiiimuiiiimiinMiiiniiuuiiiininuiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiMiimiiinnnmiiinu 
 
 interested us most — Montaigne and Montesquieu. We saw several 
 triumphal arches of the Roman period. 
 
 We went into the establishment of the great and well-known 
 house of Barton and Guestier. Seeing two strangers, one of whom 
 seemed on a quest for information, Mr. Guestier came forward. 
 Hearing we were from San Francisco he invited us in his private 
 office where we spent a pleasant half hour. Mr. Guestier was greatly 
 interested in the wine industry of California and asked you many 
 questions to all of which you replied so readily that soon he said 
 interrogatively, "You are engaged in the business." We all had a 
 good laugh over the perfectly natural mistake. 
 
 We went to Arcachon, famous for its oyster beds and pine 
 woods. On every street in the town at frequent intervals there were 
 oyster stands where the residents stopped to enjoy the bivalve. Busi- 
 ness men, school children and ladies, shopping, marketing or visiting. 
 The oysters were of moderate size and excellent flavor, opened while 
 you waited and served on the half shell; and we, strangers in a 
 strange land, went from stand to stand enjoying the experience. We 
 drove to the pine forest, past pretty villas inhabited in winter by 
 invalids in search of health-giving, balsamic air. 
 
 We went leisurely through the beautiful chateau region with 
 headquarters at Tours at an Inn kept by two sisters — charming 
 elderly French ladies, then to Orleans; admired the equestrian statue 
 of Joan of Arc, saw the house in which she lived, also the perfect 
 gem of a building that housed for many years the famous beauty, 
 Diane de Poitiers. At dinner the long table d'hote of our hotel was 
 freely supplied with jugs of tar water — men put it in their wine and 
 it was drunk commonly as a benefit to weak throats from which all 
 the people seemed to suffer. 
 
 The first of June found us in London. All the surrounding 
 country, Richmond, Hampton Court, Kew Gardens — everywhere 
 flowers and fragrance and singing birds, and the great city of Lon- 
 don in "the season" was a surprise and delight with parks and squares 
 and streets so full of stir and life and gaiety and beauty. 
 
 Flower Shows in Temple Gardens; meet of the tally ho coaches 
 in Hyde Park, every seat on top occupied by guests, the ladies in 
 pretty light-colored dresses, the host driving his spirited team of four 
 horses — inside the coaches, servants and hampers. One morning we 
 counted twenty-six coaches, with horns blowing, winding their way 
 under the park trees to their rendezvous; and a very pretty sight 
 it was with thousands of spectators looking on. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Five 
 
iiiiiiii ininiiiiiiiiiininHiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitliiiniriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniitiiiiiiiiiiiii uiiriiiiiiiniiniiiiiiiniiiiiiiiniiniiut 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 :iniiiiiiiiiriiiuiiiuiiiiiHiiniHiiiHiiiiinMMiiiiriiiiinrNiiiniiniiiiMniiiinnMmiiiiiiniiiimitiiiiiMiuiniiiMiiniirHniiui;MniiiMiniiiiiininiiitniiniiniiHiiniiiMiiHniinnnMriiniuiinininn 
 
 And we saw long lines of carriages (often blocked for ten 
 minutes at a time) carrying ladies to Buckingham Palace "to be pre- 
 sented." Elegantly attired, their Court trains spread out on the 
 opposite seat, calm and self-possessed they sat, while the crowds on 
 the sidewalk filed past, making comments on the dress and attractions 
 of this one, or that. Standing on the sidewalk we once saw several 
 men walk along the roadway deliberately looking into the carriages 
 and heard one say, "Come aways up here, boys, an' I'll show you a 
 peach." 
 
 We never missed the church parade in Hyde Park when Sunday 
 was pleasant and seldom the afternoon driving when we always saw 
 Alexandra, the lovely Princess of Wales. In our evening walks the 
 carriages leading to Covent Garden Opera House entertained us — 
 ladies beautifully gowned and extremely decollete. One night we 
 heard the opera of Traviata well sung to a brilliant audience. 
 
 We went up the Thames by boat from Kingston to Oxford, a 
 two days' trip (twice repeated) that for charm you thought could not 
 be equalled in the World. Past the Towers of Windsor Castle and the 
 ruins of an Abbey, then for miles and miles an almost unbroken line 
 of villas with flower-decked lawns stretching to the river bank — 
 pretty boat houses, and swans gliding over the water. In the gehtly 
 rolling country, hanging woods, sheep and cattle grazing in the hedge- 
 bordered pastures, picturesque villages and tall church spires nestling 
 amid the trees ; thrushes, sky-larks and blackbirds singing, and always 
 the cheerful intimate river with its animation and varied life that we 
 studied at leisure, the time made by our boat being fixed by law to 
 prevent any washing of the banks. 
 
 Picnic parties under bright marquees on the sociable islands, 
 young people in summer attire rowing up the stream or drifting 
 down beneath the overhanging branches of splendid trees, the lively 
 decks of numerous gayly decorated house boats, people walking along 
 the banks, people fishing in the waters. 
 
 "What a river it is for life and animation," I exclaimed, "and 
 how the Londoners love and enjoy it." 
 
 "And how they have loved and enjoyed it for centuries," you 
 added, and we talked of the days when tilts and jousts by Knights 
 in armor took place from boats on the Thames, and of water 
 pageants in which Royal personages had been central figures, and 
 how each year a procession of state barges escorted the newly elected 
 Lord Mayor to Westminster Hall to take the oath of office. 
 
 The many locks were scenes of great activity; row boats, barges, 
 
 Page Two Hundred Six 
 
niniiiiiitiiiiiiuiniiiiiniinniiiiiiiiiniiiiMriiintHiniminiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiimniiiiiiiimiiiHiiiiiunHiiiiiiiiiniitiiiHininiiiiiiniiiinMMinii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiuniiiiiiininiiiiinuniiMiHiuiHiunjiinMiiiiiiniHiiiiiiiininiiiiiHiiniiniiiniiHmiiUMMiiiiiuiitiinniininiinMiMunmiiMintiinHiiuiuiiMiiiuiiiuninniiiuniuiniiniuiiinuiiininn 
 
 and launches, public and private, awaiting their turn, and passengers 
 coming and going from our little steamer when we had reached the 
 upper level. The lock-keepers' homes were pretty places ; trim, stone 
 cottages, gardens full of roses and always a troop of flaxen-haired 
 children watching the work. 
 
 Half way was Henley, a very center for boating and fishing, and 
 where every summer the celebrated regattas were held, and at Henley 
 our boat tied up for the night and we went to the comfortable, old 
 Red Lion Inn. There, on a window pane in the coffee room we read 
 Shenstone's lines that he had cut in the glass. 
 
 "Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round. 
 Where'er his stages may have been, 
 May sigh to think he still has found, 
 His warmest welcome at an Inn." 
 
 The next morning we continued our journey through a succes- 
 sion of rural scenes that were a delight and in the afternoon reached 
 Oxford and the Mitre Hotel; of all old-fashioned English Inns per- 
 haps the most famous and richest in memories of illustrious men. 
 
 We had a room with windows looking on and down High Street 
 eloquently described by Macaulay and Hawthorne. It was a charm- 
 ing room with many choice, old pieces of furniture. One of the 
 beds was mahogany with four tall posts handsomely carved. To end 
 a dispute we drew lots to decide who should occupy it and when it 
 fell to you, you accused me of not playing fair. 
 
 Oxford, with groves and meadows, two rivers and a background 
 of wooded hills would have been delightful without those "great 
 temples of learning" — with them it was unique and on every visit we 
 felt with Hawthorne that "the World had not another such place." 
 
 Ivy covered facades and courts of red brick, boxes of flowers on 
 window ledges, old picturesque gateways, medieval clock towers, halls 
 and colleges, chapels, pictures, stained glass windows, great quad- 
 rangles with noble trees, and over all an atmosphere of antiquity and 
 dignity ; a delicious mingling of the venerable and beautiful. 
 
 In one of the quadrangles we met a gentleman and two ladies. 
 They all bowed in such a pleasant, friendly way that you stopped and 
 asked the gentleman (he was a Professor of Greek) a question. He 
 told the ladies where to wait for him, answered your question then 
 turned and walked with us; pointed out where great men had been 
 located when scholars there, told us many interesting things, then 
 
 Page Two Hundred Seven 
 
tut rimiiitMinriiiniriiiiiiiriiMiriiiiuiiiiniiiiinnnirirnrtnitiumiwwmmiiiitmiiirnimnnitiiiimiiunrrMtiiimiiniiimiiminmHmiinnniMiiHiHiMMHiiimtiuiuniniiiiw 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 MinHniiiiiiiiinuiinuiMinniiiiiiiiHMHiiiuiMMiuiinuiiHniHiiniiiiHiuiHinit»HminuiimiiiwiuniiiiuniiiumiiiiinwiiMiriitiiuiuuniiiuinmiiiiininHiiuiiniiitiiiiiiiin 
 
 showing a window in an angle overhung with ivy, said, "That is the 
 window of our haunted room." 
 
 "One of our poets has written that 'all houses wherein men have 
 lived and died are haunted houses,' " I ventured. 
 
 "Yes," said the Professor, "I remember, that was Whittier." 
 
 "No, Longfellow," I corrected. 
 
 It was a trifling incident, but to my surprise it gave you pleasure 
 and you often referred to it. 
 
 The Sheldonian Theater with rudely carved heads of warriors 
 and sages encircling the auditorium, where degrees are conferred 
 amid the hooting, stamping and pert personal remarks of under- 
 graduates was an interesting old structure. We talked of Holme's 
 experience when the University gave him the degree of D. C. L. and 
 the undergraduates greeted him with "Here comes the last leaf upon 
 the tree," and told him that "the pruning knife of time" had been 
 hard on him. 
 
 We did not think Cambridge, that rival University town quite 
 such a "scholastic paradise" as Oxford, but the noble colleges and 
 halls were delightful with romantic gardens and courts, medieval 
 gates and towers, lovely stained glass windows, pictures, and the most 
 beautiful of all the chapels, that of King's College. "The Backs" 
 were charming ; blooming gardens in the rear of the Colleges, running 
 down to the little river Cam where row boats and many picturesque 
 bridges led to equally charming gardens on the opposite side. 
 
 In Christ College the window of the room Milton occupied was 
 pointed out to us, and we saw the mulberry tree under which he loved 
 to sit. Poor, old tree ! its trunk is held together by hoops of iron and 
 every possible care bestowed upon it. 
 
 We returned to London just in time for the Derby. From the 
 top of a coach the survey of that crowded road was a sight. Every 
 freakish thing conceivable was there; the ludicrous, the grotesque, 
 and much that was coarse and offensive. Sometimes one of the 
 parallel lines moving slowly along the wide roadway would be 
 blocked, while the rest of the procession went on, but we never 
 changed our entourage. On our left we had, from start to finish, a 
 huckster trundling a half dozen children in a push-cart, his wife 
 walking beside him; on our right a poor little horse (on which the 
 driver sat astride) drawing a two-wheeled cart with a seat holding 
 three men. Every one of the four had a false nose of varying size 
 and comic shape. "The downs" were alive with people, like ants 
 over an ant hill with all the features of a country fair. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Eight 
 
iiiiiMiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiinniiii(MiiiiiiiiinrniiiiriirriniiiniiiiiiiiiinniMiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiitiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiiiiniiiinitiiiiiiniiniiiniiiiiiiiiiinniiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 luinHniiiijninnMniiniiMiniiniinuniiinnininiiunHiiiinMiuninHiHiitiniHuniiniiiiiiinniiiiiinHiuinmiiiniMiiiuiiiniiiiiiMninmnninniiniiMiiiHiiMuiiHiinniiiMiHiiiiiiiN 
 
 The race, contested by eight horses, was exciting, Lord Rose- 
 berry's Ladas winning. Lord Roseberry was Prime Minister at the 
 time and probably the most popular man in England, and when, after 
 the race was won, he led Ladas to the paddock, the cheer that went 
 up from that multitude of people must have touched his heart and 
 made Lord Roseberry and Ladas the proudest man and horse in all 
 the realm. 
 
 Royalty and the smart set were there making a brave show in 
 the boxes and flocking to the paddock when the race was over. We 
 returned to London by train in a coach crowded to suffocation by 
 men standing in the passage way. 
 
 Later in the month we went to the Ascot races. The scene was 
 brilliant but had no features that impressed the mind as was the case 
 in the Derby. 
 
 From Portsmouth we crossed the channel to the Isle of Wight 
 and had a delightful coaching trip along the picturesque shore; past 
 charming tree-embowered towns, breezy headlands, gorse-covered 
 downs with the shimmering sea always in sight. 
 
 We left the coach at Freshwater and from there drove to Far- 
 ringford, long the home of Lord Tennyson. The house was occupied 
 by the family but the old gardener said we were free to walk about 
 the grounds. The dear old man spoke reverently and affectionately 
 of Tennyson and told us where to find his favorite haunts. 
 
 We went under a little bridge (known all the country around as 
 Tennyson's bridge) and came out upon an open country. We walked 
 through lanes the Poet's feet had trod, and looked across the downs 
 his eyes had so often rested upon, and standing there, while you 
 talked of the pleasure Tennyson's poems had given you, we heard a 
 cuckoo, calling the "twin notes" loud and clear. When we returned, 
 the gardener gave me a bunch of roses from Tennyson's favorite 
 bush, and you a bowl, made from grape leaves, full of delicious 
 strawberries, of which the gardener said Lord Tennyson was very 
 fond. 
 
 We spent a month in Carlsbad and on the third of August went 
 to Bayreuth where we heard the operas of Parsifal and Lohengrin 
 with Van Dyck in the title roles, and Nordica the soprano. 
 
 The opera house, a large, plain structure, stood on rising ground 
 nearly a mile from the town. The pilgrimage to that Mecca was 
 something to remember. In the fields men and women were cutting 
 grain with sickles, stopping in their work to see the pilgrims pass. 
 
 The wedge-shaped house had galleries at the back, no boxes, and 
 
 Page Two Hundred Nine 
 
MiiiiiiiinmrmniiiMiiiiiiHHniiMiniuininiinininiiiiiiHniiniuiiiiiiinuinmniiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiinniiiHiminiiuiinniiiHiiiiniiiinmiinimiuiiiiMiiiiiiiuiiminMniiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 ■iiniiiiniiiiiiMiiuiiiiiMiiHUiiMMiiMiinnnniniiiiiiniHiHiuiniiiiiiniuniiiiinnnMiiuMUiiiinMUMiiuiiiiNiiuiMiiiiiiNiiiiiiHinnninininiiiHiuiunniiiMiiiuuniHiiniiiiiinurnniiiiiniiiiu^ 
 
 the orchestra was partly screened by a hood. When the opera com- 
 menced every seat not occupied remained vacant until the end of the 
 act as there was no admission while the opera was in progress. 
 
 To the supreme excellence of the productions no words of mine 
 could do justice. Van Dyck's Parsifal has never been equalled; 
 Nordica was at her best; the orchestra numbered one hundred, the 
 chorus two hundred; the music was divine and divinely rendered to a 
 spell-bound audience in the vast, darkened, tensely-quiet auditorium. 
 The scenery was beautiful and wonderful from the moment the 
 curtain rose, displaying a glade in the woods flooded by rays of the 
 rising sun. The illumination of the Holy Grail was exquisite, and 
 when the castle of the magician crumbled into ruins, and the bloom- 
 ing, tropical garden withered and became a desert in the twinkling of 
 an eye the effect was that of magic. 
 
 The opera began at four o'clock and ended at ten. There was 
 no applause, no glow of footlights, no flowers ; accessories that it was 
 a strange experience to have with-held. The first act was long and 
 during the intermission that followed, shocking though it may sound, 
 that spell-bound audience went entire to the theater restaurants and 
 ate and drank the most substantial things. 
 
 Lohengrin was perfectly and delightfully given. At the end of 
 everj^ act when the curtain fell the applause was tumultuous, but the 
 singers did not appear ; only after the last act and continued applause 
 was there any recognition of the appreciation of the audience; the 
 curtain was then partially raised for an instant. Lohengrin was a 
 rare treat, but it was Parsifal, always Parsifal that we thought and 
 talked of. 
 
 We were lodged in the house of the Burgomaster whom we did 
 not see, but his elderly wife was charming. We had our breakfasts 
 in the pleasant sitting room, Frau S. presiding at table. I had at 
 that time a fair smattering of German and we talked constantly. 
 Frau S. had never had any one with her that came from such a dis- 
 tance as San Francisco; she plied me with questions about the City 
 and the long journey, helping me out eagerly when I was at a loss 
 for words. I enjoyed it, although what with acting as interpreter to 
 you and puzzling my brain for words, it did make my breakfasts a 
 secondary consideration. 
 
 When we came in from a walk our hostess always opened the 
 door, knitting in hand, because "Gretchen was often slow;" then we 
 must sit down and tell where we had been. Seeing on the rack of the 
 open piano compositions of Bach and Beethoven, I asked if she would 
 
 Page Two Hundred Ten 
 
iiiiiiiii niiiiniuiuiiiniHuiiiiniiiuiiiniMiiMiniMiininnMnniuiuiiMininuiiniMiiiinnniiiiuiniiiiiitiMuiuiiiniMuimiiiiiHiiiuiiniiiunniiniiiiiiiiiiiiunniiiiiiiUHiniiiiniiiiiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 amiiHuiiMiiiniiiiiinniiiuiiiiMiniinMnininiMiiiuiiHnMiuiiiiiiiMinnniniinniuiiuiMiiiiuiiiinniiiminimiiiininnniiinniiiiiuiuiiiiiuininiiinniiiininiiuuuninuuiuniininiu 
 
 not play for us. No, she was sorry, but since her fingers were no 
 longer nimble she only played for her husband. Frau S. told us that 
 she looked eagerly forward each year to the opera season that she 
 might meet pleasant people, for while she was happy, life was very 
 quiet and monotonous; and that it must have been since Wagner's 
 house and grave, and the graves of Liszt and Jean Paul Richter were 
 the only things of interest in the dull little town of Bayreuth. 
 
 Then we went to Leipsic; that famous, old University town; 
 that literary, musical, book-selling, book-publishing center, and very 
 delightful we found it. In the old quarter quaint medieval houses 
 with high-pitched roofs, a beautiful old Rathaus, and in a beer gar- 
 den (Auerbach's Keller) an old wine vault with a series of curious 
 mural paintings representing scenes in the legend upon which Goethe 
 founded his Faust. 
 
 The Augustusplatz surrounded by magnificent buildings we 
 thought the finest square we had seen in Europe. We admired the 
 great hall of the Booksellers' Exchange beautifully decorated with 
 allegorical paintings, the elegant homes, and the many statues, par- 
 ticularly those of Luther, Mendelssohn and Bach, who was an organ- 
 ist in Leipsic for a long time. 
 
 Our next stop was Berlin and what a changed Berlin it was! 
 "It looked," you said," "as though all the millions wrung from 
 France in 1871 had been expended on the now beautiful Capital of 
 the German Empire." 
 
 Twenty years before when we reached Dresden, the wind was 
 icy cold and we drove to our hotel from the station in a sleigh through 
 streets musical with the jingling of sleigh bells; now, with the praise 
 of summer on our lips we went about looking at pictures, the lovely 
 views, and all the many attractions of the City. 
 
 We enjoyed re-seeing Munich, its art treasures, the beautiful 
 fountains, and lively, pleasantly shaded streets ; and we did not forget 
 or neglect the pretzels and music of the beer gardens. 
 
 Then we went to beautiful Lucerne and to the Rigi Kulm 
 where on our former visit clouds and rain had been our lot. This 
 time as the Alpine horn sounded the retreat, and the Alpine horn 
 sounded the reveille, the sun set and the sun rose in a clear sky. 
 Both were glorious. Which, the most impressive we could not say; 
 the gorgeous sky, the shadows of the mountains, the lights in 
 the valleys, the rosy glow on the numberless lakes, — all gradually 
 growing dim and like an ethereal vision fading away as the darkness 
 fell, — or, the vast panorama emerging from the shadowy space 
 
 Page Two Hundred Eleven 
 
«inniiiitniininniiiriiHMMnnniiiijiiiiiriiiniiinMiirriniMiitniiiiiiimmtmitmininmiiiMiiiniiinmiiiiMfHiniiniiiiniiniiMniiiininiiiMiiiiiiHiummrimiiinin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 4iiuiinMniiiuiHinuiinnniiniiiiiuiiniMiinniitiiiinirinirnniiiniuiiiiiinuniininiiiiiiiimiiiniiiMtiitiiiiiinnniiiiiniiiiiiiiiinnnnniiiiiiiiiiiiitinMiimiiiHniHiiMnnni^ 
 
 gradually unfolding into the brilliant, dazzling light of day. And 
 to witness it, what a motly crowd assembled in the gray dawn at the 
 sound of the Alpine horn. Men and women in bath-robes and 
 dressing-gowns and wrapped in blankets from their beds, although 
 that performance was positively forbidden by the hotel management. 
 Then we went to Interlaken. How glad we were to see the 
 beautiful Jungfrau again, and the valley of the Lauterbrunnen and 
 all the lovely waterfalls ; and then to a small town from where a cog- 
 wheel road carried us up to Zermatt, that we might see the Matter- 
 horn. 
 
 We reached Zermatt in a blinding snow storm (September 7). 
 When we closed our shutters at night the snow was still falling. 
 When we opened our shutters in the morning. Oh, joy! the sun was 
 shining and the sharp wedge like top of the Matterhorn stood out 
 clear cut against a sky of blue. 
 
 Going out from the breakfast room we saw scores of donkeys in 
 front of the hotel, with boys in charge, ready to carry tourists to a 
 rocky ridge facing the mountain. 
 
 Forewarned was forearmed, and you engaged two donkeys 
 stipulating that you were to have them entire. Our patient little 
 beasts were saved from double work, but we saw many a man that 
 day pulled up to the rocky ridge for a trifling sum by hiring the tail 
 of a back-laden donkey. 
 
 The woodland trail was delightful with exquisite views of the 
 Matterhorn as we followed the winding of swift rushing streams. 
 At Corner Grat 5,000 feet above Zermatt, in the midst of snow peaks 
 and glaciers, the stupendous mountain was glorious and majestic, 
 dominating an awe-inspiring scene! 
 
 From Zermatt to Martigny then by carriage to Chamonix. How 
 we did enjoy the long days ride over that delightful road; the many, 
 many miles between rows of splendid chestnut trees, or rowan trees — 
 mountain ash — loaded with clusters of red berries, both trees and 
 berries growing much larger than with us ; the lovely views in crossing 
 the Tete Noir summit, and the long strings of cows each with a tink- 
 ling bell, being driven down from mountain pastures by men and pic- 
 turesque milkmaids, each girl carrying her milking-stool, for the 
 summer was over and buttermaking in the little mountain chalets 
 at an end for the year. 
 
 On the hotel terrace at Chamonix guests were watching through 
 a telescope a party that had started the previous day to make the 
 ascent of Mont Blanc and were then near the top. The eye, unaided. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Twelve 
 
iiHiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiniiiitnniiniiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 tuuNiiiiiinnMitiniHiiuMnniiHitiniiiuMniiniininniMiiininniillillliliiiiuiUMiiiitiiiiniiiiiiiiniMniiiiiniinniirMiiuniiinininunMMiiiiHiMiininiiinMMuniumiiniiiiiniiiiiniMiiu 
 
 could not detect them and through the telescope what tink specks they 
 were! And did they really move? I could scarcely believe it until 
 one by one the specks disappeared in a crevasse. After a long excit- 
 ing wait, one after another, the specks went over the top on the 
 opposite side. They reached the summit and returned the following 
 night — very tired, very happy and the ladies of the party very proud. 
 From Chamonix Mont Blanc was beautiful, massive, formidable ! 
 and the long, very narrow Valley of Chamonix hemmed in by glaciers 
 and cataracts of ice had wonderful views of snow-crowned mountain 
 ranges. 
 
 We spent some time in Geneva and the delightful towns on the 
 shore of the beautiful Lake, and one day while in Geneva, we looked 
 into the power-house of the river Rhone and saw twenty turbine 
 wheels, of 210 horsepower each, at work. The effect was most tre- 
 mendous. 
 
 September 20 we went to Paris. We had many a red-letter day 
 in the charming environs. At Fontainbleu the golden chasselis 
 grapes were ripe. The large fountains — the Grandes Eaux — were 
 playing at Versailles. With all Paris on November second, the prin- 
 cipal day of the Fetes of Touissaint we went to the cemeteries. The 
 tombs were decorated with natural flowers, the ugly but bright bead 
 wreaths, and celluloid flowers so natural, that we were often deceived, 
 particularly in the roses. 
 
 Of the varied entertainment the City off*ered, it was perhaps 
 the Lamoureux and Colonne concerts that we enjoyed most. 
 
 On the material side, we enjoj^ed bouillibasse at a queer, little 
 restaurant frequented by Thackery and made popular with the Eng- 
 lish and Americans by his verses, commencing, 
 
 "There is a street in Paris, famous;" 
 
 then at a triperie, an odd, provincial-looking place, we went for 
 "tripe a la Normandie." I went reluctantly — I had never eaten 
 tripe — ^^did not approve of it and knew I should not like it. 
 
 In the midst of our luncheon you looked at me, laughed, and 
 said, "You seem to be getting bravely over your prejudice," and I 
 admitted that "tripe a la Normandie" was a delicacy, particularly 
 when accompanied by sparkling, delicious Normandy cider. 
 
 November 23 we reached Nice, where we took up the old familiar 
 life, meeting all the American colony wintering there at the pleasant 
 receptions given in turn by the Consul, and the Pastor and Mrs. A. 
 in the charming parsonage of the American Church. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Thirteen 
 
inniiiiiiimriiiminnnnitiirMiiiiniiHniiiiiNinirniinjiiinmniiJimiiiniMntifiiiiinnininriiinMninniiiinitrriiinttiiiriiiMtMimiintniiniiniiiiiiiiinnMnHiiiiMiHiiiMiiiniiiiiiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 'irHMmiiiiiniiiiuiiminNniniiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiirtiiiiiMiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiuimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriniiiiiiiiiiiiiiNi iiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 The climate of Nice has always been a moot question. At times 
 the mistral blew biting and cold. One cold season we looked from 
 our windows in the morning six times upon palm and orange trees 
 laden with snow and saw the summits of the high hills white ; we have 
 seen ice on the basins of fountains and icicles fringing their rims ; but 
 cold seasons were the exception and the cold of short duration. 
 Oranges, lemons and olives ripened, and the street market was full 
 of beautiful flowers grown in the open air. A fact that you said 
 always surprised you since Nice was six degrees North of San 
 Francisco. 
 
 Drawing conclusions from our eight winters, we knew no place 
 where week after week weather conditions were so ideal that mere 
 existence was a joy; bright sunshine — ^but not burning as in Southern 
 California — a delicious breeze and the bluest of skies. 
 
 With a party of Americans we celebrated Washington's birth- 
 day by going to Grasse, renowned the world over for its perfumes. 
 The ride on the narrow-gauge road was a succession of thrills; it 
 crossed mountain gorges on slender trestles and it ran along the 
 narrow edge of viaducts. 
 
 Grasse, 1,000 feet above sea level, built around with walls that 
 reached to the third story windows — a damp, unsanitary, unhealthy 
 place, with narrow, crooked streets that often terminated in steep 
 stairs — that was old Grasse. 
 
 Outside the city walls, broad tree-shaded streets with charming 
 villas, fine hotels and views of the shimmering sea a few miles away. 
 Among the softly-rolling hills 1,200 acres devoted to flower culture 
 made a perfumed land. 
 
 We went into one of the large factories. In a long row, women 
 and girls were pulling violets from their stems and throwing them 
 into baskets. In the next process the lovely, fragrant violets were 
 thrown into a huge vat of boiling oil, and it was pitiful to see them 
 shrink and wither. In the next room orange blossoms were torn to 
 pieces. We saw great basket fuls of the wax-like petals go into their 
 fiery bath for the manufacture of the oil of neroli. We had a permit 
 to see the entire process, but most of the party, including ourselves, 
 preferred to saunter in the delightful streets. We returned to Nice 
 via Cannes, riding for fifteen miles through a valley of blooming 
 roses and violets. 
 
 On the 22nd of March we left Nice for a short sojourn in Men- 
 tone that we might take the famous walks through the old olive 
 groves abounding there, and most delightful they were. A hotel near 
 
 Page Two Hundred Fourteen 
 
'niimtiiiiiMiiiintMiMnrinnniiniinniiiiiHininMiiiiiniNnMinniinMniiinnMiiniinHMJiriiUHiininiiiiHniiiiiMiiinriiMniirinMinirniininniMiiiiinuitininiiinintiiiiMniiMiiiiH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iMinMnnMiiiiiiiuiuiniiiMiiiiniriiin»nirninniMiHiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiHiiiiiniMiiriitinniinMnMiniiniiutMiiiiiitininiinM[niuMiinniiiiiMiniiuiiiirniinuiniiniMritiMiniiiMriiriniiHini^ 
 
 the railroad station had been recommended and I was left in the 
 waiting room with our traps while you went on a tour of inspection. 
 
 At the stir made by several people coming into the room I looked 
 up from my paper to recognize Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone with serv- 
 ants carrying bags and wraps. Soon after, a kindly act of Mrs. 
 Gladstone gave me the opportunity of speaking to her, which I did, 
 calling her by name. We had some pleasant talk, then I was asked 
 "Would you like to meet Mr. Gladstone?" 
 
 "Very much indeed," I answered, "but Mr. Gladstone is reading 
 and perhaps would not like to be disturbed." 
 
 "Never you mind about that," said Mrs. Gladstone. Together 
 we approached the "Grand Old Man" and I was introduced. 
 
 "Mr. Gladstone, here is a lady who lives in San Francisco, Cali- 
 fornia, and knew us from pictures she had seen there." 
 
 Mr. Gladstone closed his book (a copy of Horace) and men- 
 tioned a fact we had often noticed, that in towns along the Riviera 
 it was a common thing to call a particularly sunny, sheltered spot 
 "Californie." We talked of the lovely country in which we had all 
 spent the winter, then in answer to a question I said we were going 
 from Mentone to Florence. Mr. Gladstone was enthusiastic in his 
 praise of Florence — it was sixty years since his first visit there — he 
 regretted that Florence could not have remained the Capital of Italy 
 which but for bungling it would still be. 
 
 The train was signaled. I told Mrs. Gladstone how sorry I was 
 that my husband had not shared with me the pleasure of this meeting.. 
 
 "Bring your husband to our compartment in the train." 
 
 "But we are stopping at Mentone," said I. 
 
 "Yes, I forgot; then if ever you are near Hawarden bring him 
 there." She took some violets that Mr. Gladstone was carrying and 
 gave them to me, and with a warm, friendly clasping of hands we 
 parted. 
 
 The middle of April found us in Venice on our way to the Tyrol. 
 Soon as we left the plain surrounding Venice the road to Verona was 
 delightful ; on one side the rushing, singing river Adige ; on the other, 
 a wooded hillside, the ground carpetted by large, vari-colored brilliant 
 hepaticas. 
 
 In Verona we saw the well preserved Roman amphitheater, the 
 fine tombs of the Scaligers, Juliet's balcony and Juliet's tomb — a 
 large, white marble sarcophagus filled to overflowing with visiting 
 cards. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Fifteen 
 
niiiiiiiimiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiMiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiniiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiit iiiiiiiiinmiiitiiiimiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimitiiiiiiiiiinniiiiniiniiiinmii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 auiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniii i iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiin 
 
 Then we journeyed on, following the Adige to Trent, where we 
 passed the night. In a beautiful valley of the Tyrol, well built and 
 traversed by numerous canals, we found Trent attractive and pictur- 
 esque. Among many remarkable buildings the two that interested 
 us most, were ,the Cathedral built entirely of white marble, and the 
 red marble structure, church and palace combined, where the famous 
 "Council of Trent" held its meetings and where we saw portraits of 
 the members of the Council. 
 
 We went to Meran, a delightful health resort, and in April a 
 veritable flower garden in the midst of blossoming fruit trees; then 
 to Botzen, a town of arcaded streets in a mountainous region abound- 
 ing in pleasant walks. 
 
 We went up the Ritten Railway to Ober Botzen where we had a 
 glorious view of the picturesque, fantastic peaks and slender, graceful 
 pinnacles of the "Dolomites" — ^rosy limestone mountains, wonderful 
 and exquisite in varying form and color. We looked upon the Rosen- 
 g art en at the sunset hour, but the afterglow was denied us. 
 
 At Innsbruck the surrounding mountains were crowned by 
 snow, and the views beautiful. In the Franciscan Church — the 
 Hofkirche — we saw the magnificent monument of Maximilian; the 
 Emperor kneeling in praj^er, surrounded by twenty-eight bronze 
 statues of heroic size; ancestors, and Maximilian's favorite heroes of 
 antiquity. The unique and beautiful private residence with lovely 
 oriel windows, famed as the Haus of the Goldene Dachi — a roof, 
 covered by gilded copper tiles, we admired immensely. 
 
 The valley of the Inn was beautiful but oh the things we saw 
 in the pleasant fields! The women, the poor, peasant women of 
 Austria and Southern Germany, how they did work! Leading horses 
 while men held the plow, sowing grain, spreading fertilizer, breaking 
 stones to repair the roads, harrowing the fields, often with a team of 
 cows. In towns we saw them digging trenches for sewers, and carry- 
 ing mortar and bricks to the tops of high buildings in process of 
 construction. 
 
 From Innsbruck we went to Vienna. We found Vienna the same 
 bright, sparkling city that we had held in memory for twenty years, 
 with the Ringstrasse now a splendid street. We enjoyed the pictures, 
 parks and shop windows, saw a play at the Hof theater, the Ester- 
 hazy wine cellars, and one lovely afternoon went to Schonbrun, a 
 favorite summer residence of the Royal family. The luxuriant park 
 surrounding the Palace was outlined by great walls of carefully 
 trimmed foliage, and long avenues bordered by high hedges where 
 
 Page Two Hundred Sixteen 
 
iiitniiimiiiiiiimninHinniiiiiniiiiiiniitiiniiMiinniiniiiinMiininiiiininHiinniiiininHninniiMiiiMinniiiMmiimiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiinimiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiniuirinNniMininiiniriMniMnHiinnininiiinnHniHMiiniMnnMiiiuiMiiiliiiiiiiiiiiMiniiiiiinuiuiiMuiiiiHiuniiinniiiiMiiiiiiiiiiniiiniiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiininn 
 
 birds sang sweetly made delightful allees to loiter in. At the end of 
 an avenue was the Schonbrun — the Beautiful Fountain that gave 
 the place its name. Marble statues gleamed amid the shrubs and 
 trees, and beds of flowers and velvety lawns made the place delightful. 
 
 We spent a day in Prague and a day in Niirmburg. The towns 
 were quaint and picturesque ; the country a vast hop field. Stuttgart 
 was a blooming garden and the lilacs were wonderful; we had never 
 seen such variety of color and shade ; and what trees they were ! One 
 in the garden of our Hotel had a girth of thirty inches and the flowers 
 were far beyond my reach. At Baden-Baden every man, woman and 
 child wore bunches of lilies of the valley. We saw them brought 
 from the hills in large baskets, and masses of them in the markets 
 lying among fruits, and vegetables of the commonest kind. Lilies 
 of the valley in contact with onions and potatoes. It was desecration! 
 The Neckar Valley and Bergstrasse were fairly luminous with blos- 
 soming fruit trees, and all the country radiant, in those bright days 
 of early May. 
 
 We drank the very disagreeable waters of Weisbaden as a kind 
 of penance for the keen delight we had taken in the beautiful 
 country; then in the Rhine valley we had the vineyards; we went 
 down the River to Cologne, to Holland and to Brock, the queerest, 
 quaintest, most ridiculous place imaginable. 
 
 The little wooden, one-story houses were red, blue, purple or 
 green; the tiles on the pointed roofs were in squares of different 
 colors; the front doors were painted with flowers and figures and the 
 name of the owner; the white embroidered curtains at the windows 
 were tied back with bright ribbons exposing the rooms to view. Each 
 house had a little garden enclosed by a blue picket fence, the tops of 
 the pickets ornamented by wooden toys, apples or oranges; tiny box- 
 bordered paths ran through the gardens; all, had beds of flowers; 
 many, little canals easily stepped across but bridges were numerous. 
 
 Brock was such a show place for visitors and so many were 
 curious to look inside the houses that it was common for housewives 
 to ask the passer-by to enter. Such a one standing beside her open 
 door invited us, and we accepted as we had been invited, by bowing 
 and smiling. She left her wooden shoes at the door and we followed 
 in the house. A microscopic eye could not have found a speck of 
 dust. Glassware, china, furniture, woodwork and cooking utensils 
 outside as well as inside — everything shone like a polished mirror. All 
 the beds were in recesses in the walls closed in by doors like a cup- 
 board. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Seventeen 
 
niiiiirniMriiiMiiiir nn»niiiiiiininrnrinMiiHiiiiiiniiitiiiiniiiiriiiiiirniiiiiiiiiitmrniiiiiirriiiiniiiitiiiiiniiiiittniiitiniinniiiiinniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniininiiMiiiiinirmiiH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 wiiiiiiiiniiiHiiHinMiiiiniiiiiiintMNiiiiiMniiniiiiiriiiiiiriiiinMiirttniiiHiitiniiiiiiinnittiimHiiiiiiiniiiiiMirininiinnirnniiiiiiniiniitiiiiiiniiiHiiiininiiruiiinMiniiiiiiM 
 
 Then we inspected a house combining cheese room and stable. 
 The cheese maker asked us to please wipe our feet on the mat at the 
 stable door. The floor was paved with bricks of many colors, and a 
 generous stream of water ran through the place. The windows had 
 fresh white curtains, and the ledges, boxes of flowers. The black 
 cows with snow-white spots showed plainly the washing and combing 
 and brushing they got. Behind the wide stall of every cow a loop 
 hung from the ceiling to which the tail was attached when milking 
 time came. 
 
 Not far from Brock was Volendem swarming with artists, and 
 no wonder, for the women were far and away the most picturesque 
 we had seen in Holland. In addition to their unusual dress everj' 
 woman, young and old wore a gold, silver or copper band resting on 
 the forehead and encircling the head; another band of the same metal 
 went over the top of the head terminating at the temples, and from 
 the ends very long earrings dangled over the ears and cheeks. The 
 pretty lace cap with frill that fell over the back of the neck carefully 
 exposed the earrings and band to which they were attached. 
 
 As at Brock crowds of villagers followed us about, curious, as 
 we were, and a boy about sixteen kept asking if we were going to 
 Edam. In time we understood that he wanted to take us there. He 
 had a little sail boat that we looked at. The distance was short and as 
 I was always eager for a new experience you were persuaded to 
 engage him and we embarked. 
 
 That young Dutchman worked like a Trojan. His trousers 
 immensely wide at the hips and tied in just below the knees, heavy 
 blue woolen stockings and wooden shoes, jumping back and forth on 
 that little boat was a picture that made us laugh and laugh until we 
 could laugh no more, — moving the sail to catch the light breeze, 
 steering the boat, smoking his pipe and digging a long pole into the 
 sides of the canal to push his craft along, — he carried us to Edam in 
 a way that we would have been sorry to miss. 
 
 All the dairies in the vicinity made the little round, red cheese 
 and Edam was the shipping port. 
 
 The little boats with their chocolate-colored sails so captivated 
 me that at my request we returned to Amsterdam via Volendem this 
 time engaging a boat in charge of a man. The breeze had died away 
 completely and the boat was drawn the entire distance by the man 
 who, fortunately, was large and strong. 
 
 While at breakfast next morning you said "If you want to go to 
 Marken we better go today and get all this picturesque business you^ 
 
 Page Two Hundred Eighteen 
 
,1 iiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiinintiiiiiiiiiiiiiriitiitiiiiriiiiiriiriiiniiiiiiniiiii iiiitiiiinii iiiitiiiiiNitiiiitiiiniimiirititiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiniitiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiimintmimiiin iiimiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiiiniiiniiinHHiniiHnMiiiiiniitiiiiininiiinHiininiriiiiiiiiiMHiiuiiiminiiiiiuiiniiiniiiNntiinniiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiniiiitiiMiiiiiiiniiiiniiMniiiiiiiinniniiiunni^ 
 
 fancy so much off our hands," so to Marken, the largest of the islands 
 in the Zuyder-Zee we went, — inhabited by fisher folk, much visited by 
 tourists and full of artists making sketches of the women and girls, 
 all dressed alike. A f risette of golden hair and two long golden curls 
 falling over each cheek ; a snow white cap turned away at the ears and 
 standing out from the head in a point ; a much embroidered red waist 
 with white sleeves; a woolen petticoat striped with several colors, the 
 stripes running around, and wooden shoes. A very fetching costume 
 when the girls were young and pretty. 
 
 We went to Delft, full of delightful, high, old, red brick houses, 
 standing flush on canals lined by two rows of fine trees. In a church 
 with a lofty tower and a lovely chime of bells, we saw the magnificent 
 monument of William the Silent, and in shop windows the beautiful 
 faience pottery made in Delft. 
 
 In Haarlem we chanced to see a very pretty noon wedding at 
 the Cathedral, and later had two hours of delightful music on the 
 famous organ. The season was late June and the country about 
 Haarlem was a vast flower bed of tulips and hyacinths miles and 
 miles in extent. 
 
 From the Hague over a road shaded by trees and dotted with 
 two miles of villas and gardens we went to Scheveningen, a fashion- 
 able seaside resort, and an old fishing village. At one end of the 
 town pretty houses of bright color rented for the season by well- 
 groomed people who enjoyed surf fishing; sat for hours in the wicker 
 chairs with a hoodlike covering that served as protection from sun 
 and wind (hundreds of which were scattered over the beach) and 
 through the evenings danced at the casino or listened to a good band 
 concert. 
 
 At the other end of the town shabby little homes black with age. 
 Most of the men were away at the herring fisheries, only the elderly 
 being left; their catch of fish was carried in baskets on the heads of 
 women to the Hague markets, and what pictures they made on the 
 road in their odd dress! full, short, white woolen skirts standing out 
 as though worn over barrels tied to the waist, black stockings and 
 wooden shoes. On their heads white caps and a kind of brass helmet, 
 that helped perhaps to sustain the weight *they carried. 
 
 We should have enjoyed dining at one of the attractive restau- 
 rants in the part of town devoted to pleasure but we resisted the 
 temptation remembering notices in the halls and rooms of the ex- 
 tremely comfortable, extremely expensive "Vieux Doelan" that read, 
 "Guests of the hotel will be charged for dinner whether present or 
 absent." 
 
 Page Two Hundred Nineteen 
 
juiiiiiMiiininiiiuHininniniiniiiuiiiiiiinniiMiMiinunrHniiinniiilimiiliiltllimiMiiiiiiinuiiiuiiinniiininninniiiiiiHiniiiinniHiiniiiiiiiniMniiininniininii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aiuniiniuiniinuuiniHiiMiinuniniiiinuiiiainnnniniuniiniiiuiiiiiuniiiiHiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiuininmiininnniiuiiiininnnuiiHiiiiiiniMUinniuiiuHniniuiim 
 
 From the Hague we went to Rotterdam. We had taken great 
 pleasure in seeing again the beautiful pictures of the old Dutch 
 Masters, had enjoyed the picturesque dress of the people and laughed 
 at the absurdity seen in the towns on Sunday when women of the 
 substantial middle class go to church wearing a hat trimmed with 
 flowers, feathers or ribbon perched on top of a white cap. 
 
 We went from Rotterdam down the river Maas to the "Hook of 
 Holland" and so to London. We spent several days driving through 
 the lovely country embracing Chatsworth and Haddon Hall with 
 headquarters at the delightful old Peacock Inn. 
 
 En route to Liverpool we stopped at the quaint, medieval town 
 of Chester, to see the interesting old walls perfect in their entire cir- 
 cumference of two miles. We walked in the continuous galleries, 
 over and under which the houses lining the street project, — all ap- 
 proached by flights of steps and called "the Rows." 
 
 In July, 1895, we crossed the ocean on the Cunard liner Lucania 
 and went to our Central New York home, running away in Septem- 
 ber for a leisurely trip through the Berkshire hills. At Great Bar- 
 rington we stopped at the Berkshire Inn. Directly opposite was the 
 "Searles Mansion" — the show place of all the country around — 
 hidden from view by trees set closely together and a tall, thick hedge. 
 
 You asked our host what the chances were of our being able to 
 see the "Searles Mansion." 
 
 "None whatever, I fear," he answered; "A limited number of 
 visitors are admitted two days in the week and there is a long waiting 
 list." 
 
 Next morning you sent your visiting card with the address "San 
 Francisco, California." Talismanic words! that brought a very nice 
 note from Mr. Searles. Much to his regret he was leaving for New 
 York to keep a business engagement but had given instructions that 
 we were to be shown over the place at any time convenient to us. 
 
 A gentleman (engaged in cataloguing books) was our guide. 
 The Mansion was indeed a mansion. Everything that great wealth 
 and perfect taste could achieve in decoration and furnishing was 
 there. We were given the unusual privilege of entering the bedroom 
 and boudoir of Mrs. Hopkins- Searles, that remained just as she had 
 occupied them. Elegant and luxurious, with a charming view from 
 the windows of a wide stretch of meadow, a tree-fringed stream and 
 a background of lovely wooded hills. 
 
 We spent several days delightfully in Boston and went to 
 Concord; looked with interest on the old houses built before the 
 
 Page Two Hundred Twenty 
 
MiMmiiiMiintiiiiinritiMHiiiitniinnminiiiiiiiiiniriiuuriuiiniiiiiiiimirtmiiiiiiiimiiiiimiininuiiiitiuiiimiHmiiMinMiniinmtrinMiiiinititiiniiniiHiMiiiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 riiiiiiinjiMnininniniiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiMiiiiMinninniHiiinMiniiiiinninMimiiiiiiniinniiiiiiiiMnuiiinmiuimiiiiiuMiiniiiiiiiintnniniiiiniiiiHnniinniintiniiMHiiHiinin 
 
 Revolution, drove out to Hawthorne's "Old Manse," saw on the river 
 bank the statue of the "Minute Man" erected where 
 
 "The embattl'd farmers stood 
 And fired the shot heard round the world," 
 
 and in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery saw the graves of Emerson, Haw- 
 thorne, Louisa Alcott and Thoreau. 
 
 We wintered in the West and summered in the East until Sep- 
 tember 6, 1900, when we sailed on the Grosser Kurfurst for Bremen. 
 We enjoyed the quaint, old city and lunched at the famous Rath- 
 skeller where we had a small bottle of old Johannisberger wine that 
 you pronounced "fine." 
 
 Between Bremen and Hamburg we saw herds of Holstein cows 
 being milked in the pastures by women and girls, old women with 
 yokes carrying the pails of milk to farm houses, often far distant. 
 
 The next morning when a coach drawn by four horses dashed up 
 to the door of the Hamburgher Hof we climbed on top and had a 
 delightful ride. In the very heart of the City, the river Alster, on its 
 way to join the Elbe, widens out into two basins — the inner, and the 
 outer. These basins lie close together and between them the river is 
 spanned by a bridge. Around the small, inner basin are shops, res- 
 taurants and the principal hotels ; around the outer basins many of the 
 most charming homes in Hamburg with flower gardens, lawns and 
 fine trees. Upon the basins, row boats, sail boats, steamboats and 
 barges of traffic ply in every direction, while adding greatly to the 
 charm are the numerous swans gliding about ; — in the busy waters of 
 the basins and on the quiet reaches of the river. 
 
 As w^e bowled along enjoying the well built, animated streets 
 and the animated water and admiring the swans, you told me how 
 well you remembered the first swans you ever saw; — ^that on your 
 fifth birthday your Father had taken you to Central Park to see the 
 swans, just arrived from the City of Hamburg, as a gift to the City 
 of New York ; — that looking at them from the margin of a lake your 
 Father said, "How graceful they are, and what a graceful act the 
 sending of them was." That the swans were graceful you could 
 understand, but your Father had to explain what he meant by saying 
 the act of sending them was graceful. 
 
 That night at the Stadt Theater we heard Wagner's Die 
 Walkiirie well sung, paying for our good parquet seats six marks 
 each. 
 
 When we returned to our room we found splintered glass around 
 
 Page Two Hundred Twenty-one 
 
•iniiiuiuniiiniiiiiriHiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiniMiiniiiiiiiiMniiiininniimimimiiiHmiiiininiiHiiiiiiiiiniMinimniniuiiiiiiiiinMnniiiiiuiiiiiiiiiniiniHiiiinHHnunininniiniiiNnimn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiniuiniiiiuiiiniinniiniiiiiiiiiiniiiniiniinniinuuninnHniiiniiiniiiiMiiiiiiiiiUHHiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiuiminiiuiiiniiniinininiiiiiniiiiiiiiminHiii^ 
 
 the wash stand and missed a tumbler. In the morning a housemaid 
 was standing outside our door crying. 
 
 She tried to tell me how she had broken the glass and said she 
 must pay for it. I told her we would pay for the glass, whereupon 
 she smiled through her tears, kissed my hand, saying, "ach gnadige 
 frau" and more, that the kind lady did not understand. 
 
 We stopped in the office and you said to the clerk, "There has 
 been a glass broken in our room that you may charge to me." 
 
 The clerk, "I have already charged you for it." 
 
 "But you understand we did not break the glass." 
 
 "Certainly, but I knew you would not want the maid to pay 
 for it." 
 
 As we walked to the breakfast room you said "And these people 
 talk of Americans thinking only of the almighty dollar." 
 
 At the end of three days' stay an item on the bill read, 
 
 "Ein glas gebrochen 60 pfennigs." (twelve cents) . 
 
 We rode through immense tracts of sugar beets in Saxony and 
 at Weimar, where we staid two days, reached a lovely wooded coun- 
 try — the Thuringen Wald. We saw the house where Goethe was 
 born, his statue with that of Schiller, walked through the park and 
 rested in the Gartenhaus where Goethe passed so many hours in 
 writing and meditation. We stopped over at Jena to see Schiller's 
 house and the pretty town associated with him. 
 
 The softly-rolling wooded hills were full of pretty, interesting 
 groups — old women and children having in charge a cow, a few goats 
 or a little flock of geese. 
 
 At Munich we heard Tanhauser beautifully sung at the opera 
 house. The prices were low. The opera commenced at half -past six. 
 
 September 22 we went to Oberammergau to see the Passion 
 Play. A four hours' journey through a pleasant country. Wayside 
 shrines became frequent as we neared our destination ; a quaint, peace- 
 ful village on a plain, beside the swiftly flowing Ammer, surrounded 
 by green fields, wooded heights, and mountain peaks, with a lofty, 
 shining cross on the highest rocky summit. 
 
 The visitors brought by the long train were met at the station by 
 citizens and conducted to the houses allotted them. A dear little boy 
 who seemed to know by instinct where we belonged asked if we were 
 
 going to Mr. 's. We had secured our room from Cook's Tourist 
 
 Agency and wondered how we were to fare. 
 
 A pleasant woman met us at the door. We followed her up 
 
 Page Two Hundred Twenty-two 
 
•iminmiinniniiniiniuininnniiiJiiiiHiMnninuinniiiuiMniiuHiiiMiiiiiiiiimnimiiiiiiiiiinninMiiiiiinimniiiiimnniiiMniiuiniiniiiiinrniiiiiiiiniiinMuniiuiiiMiMiiiiii^ iiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 niiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit 
 
 stairs to a large corner room with prettily curtained windows. Every- 
 thing was neat and attractive; the furniture plain but comfortable, 
 the bed linen and towels beautifully embroidered with initials. While 
 we were still surveying the room our hostess came with tickets of ad- 
 mission and numbered seats for the Theater next day. She gave us a 
 light lunch and we went out. 
 
 The narrow, winding streets were roughly paved and without 
 sidewalks. The outer walls of the houses were of delicately colored 
 stucco and many were painted with historical or religious pictures; 
 unless the roofs were very sloping, large, flat stones that defied the 
 winter winds rested upon them. In shops, in windows of houses, in 
 gardens and lining the streets were wooden images carved by the 
 peasants illustrating religious subjects, the crucifixion being most 
 common. 
 
 From the town we wandered over fields bright with meadow 
 saffron, then followed the wagon road to the open country. From all 
 directions peasants were coming from their mountain homes, some 
 making a pilgrimage of fully fifty miles; men and women plainly 
 clothed; young men and maidens in picturesque costume and many, 
 young and old, that carried in the hand or thrown over the shoulders 
 a little bundle containing their shoes and stockings which they put on 
 as they neared the village. 
 
 As we entered the house upon our return, we saw, framed in the 
 open doorway at the other end of the hall, the head of a cow; we 
 walked through the hall and found ourselves in the stable with six 
 cows just driven in from the mountain pasture. 
 
 During the afternoon train after train had poured into the little 
 station its tide of humanity and when we walked out in the evening 
 thousands of people from all parts of the World were threading their 
 way through the crooked streets. We soon tired of the pushing and 
 jostling and went back. I suggested that we take another look at 
 the cows. A lantern hung from the ceiling. In the dim light, in 
 addition to the cows we saw a dozen men and boys lying on a fragrant 
 bed of hay that had been thrown from the loft ; all sound asleep. 
 
 At four o'clock the following morning there was a musical ring- 
 ing of church bells and at sunrise the firing of a cannon echoed 
 through the mountains. The Theater was on the edge of the town, 
 and when, soon after seven we made our way towards it, a cosmo- 
 politan crowd was going in the same direction. 
 
 It was a glorious morning and the bright sunshine lighted up 
 every picturesque thing it touched; the dress of peasants, the fez of 
 
 Page Two Hundred Twenty-three 
 
uniitMiiinirnriiitiiniiiniinniiiiiiiiniiuiiiiinniiiiniitninniiMMnntiiniiiiniiiiminiiiiiMiniinniiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiMMiiuHiiniiinnniniiminninmniiiiniitHiiiitiiini^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iimimiiiiniiniiiiiiiiiiiiiniMinniiHiriiHniiiiiiMiniiiunnniiimiiiiimiiimiiiiimiimiMiiiiiiiiiniininiiniiniuiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiinMiiiiiiniMiniiiiMiirnmi^^^ 
 
 Turks and the striking vestment of French, Italian and Russian 
 priests. 
 
 The great structure with 4,000 seats was covered and closed on 
 three sides. Just beyond the open end was the immense stage, the 
 blue sky above it, green fields beside it, cedar-clothed hills and rocky 
 mountain summits back of it. 
 
 The play began promptly at eight o'clock and continued without 
 a break until twelve. After an hours intermission, the Play began 
 again at one and ended at five. A prologue, tableaux and chorus 
 preceded each of the sixteen acts. The tableaux were scenes from 
 Old Testament stories foreshadowing later events. Grouping and 
 coloring made the living pictures extremely beautiful. The chorus 
 in white, with mantles of delicate color was accompanied by an excel- 
 lent orchestra hidden from sight. The music composed by the village 
 school teacher, chorister and organist combined, was dignified and 
 harmonious. 
 
 The Drama, from beginning to end, was without flaw and defied 
 all criticism, act after act moving along with stately dignity. The 
 mastery of every detail shown by the Passion Play Committee com- 
 prising the burgomaster, the parish priest, the schoolteacher and a few 
 burghers chosen by the people was simply marvelous. 
 
 The High Priest Caiaphas, Pilate and Herod were all mag- 
 nificently attired and the scenes in which they were the central figures 
 were brilliant and intensely dramatic. They and the Disciples, the 
 Priests, Rabbis, Pharisees and Elders spoke in turn with an emotional 
 fire and fervor that at times was positively thrilling. The hundreds 
 and hundreds of people before the audience in every scene added 
 much to realism, and from the entry into Jerusalem when five hun- 
 dred men, women and children came down the hillsides and crossed 
 the plain waving palm branches and shouting hosannas, until the final 
 scene on Calvary, it was not a play being acted, but a tragedy lived 
 before us. 
 
 Canon Farrar wrote after seeing the Passion Play "The im- 
 personification of Christ was something much higher and more sacred 
 than acting; it was the transference into a living picture of what the 
 gospel tells us. The Play does not offend by a single word or a 
 single gesture." 
 
 There was some tender, beautiful music by the chorus, robed in 
 black; a tableau of the Ascension, and the Passion Play for that day 
 was over. From the sonorous, finely-rendered lines of the first pro- 
 logue, to the last fall of the curtain, the tragic story of the centuries 
 
 Page Two Hundred Twenty-four 
 
niiiimiiiiiirir iiiiiiiuiiiiirnniiiiiMimiiMniiinininirultuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiitiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiininiiiiiiiiiiniiitiiiii miiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiminii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiniuiiiiiiiniiiiniininMiinuiiiiiiiiiiniiiiininiiniiHiMiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiminiiiiiiiiniiiiriniuiiiimiiiMiiiiiiinnniiniiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiHinini^^ 
 
 was impressive beyond description; marvelous in its realism and full 
 of dignity, reverence and deep spirituality. 
 
 The acting was perfectly natural and perfectly wonderful; it 
 must surely have been inborn, since all children, generation after 
 generation, grew up imbued with love for the Play and wished with 
 all their little hearts for nothing so much as to be participants in it; 
 and so it was that those men and women, few if any of whom had 
 ever been in a theater or seen a real play, rose naturally to great 
 dramatic heights; those men leading their simple, blameless lives in 
 the little hamlet among the Bavarian hills; carpenters, potters, 
 masons, wood carvers, road makers, tillers of the soil and herdsmen; 
 women busy with their looms and household work; and giving every 
 ten years a Drama with such fervor and overmastering power that 
 day after day they held thousands upon thousands spellbound. 
 
 We had been so impressed by the beauty and power of the Play 
 that we wanted to see it again. It was to be repeated the following 
 day for the thousands that had been unable to get beds or seats. Our 
 good hostess said she would sit up all night if by so doing she could 
 give us a place to sleep ; we tried a dozen houses without success, then 
 took an evening train and returned to Munich. 
 
 We spent most of October in Paris enjoying the Exposition. 
 Of all those happy, busy days the one that I enjoyed most was the 
 day we went up 1,400 feet in a captive balloon. It was a delightful 
 sensation, and experience well worth having when the marvelous 
 possibilities of aviation were unknown. I wanted to take a flight 
 every day but you said the tariff was too high, and also carried a 
 considerable tax for the benefit of the poor, as many a concession did. 
 
 Four months in Nice, then from Naples on S. S. Republic we 
 steamed one April day into the semi-circular Palermo Bay, at the foot 
 of the lofty, rugged mass of Monte Pellegrino. 
 
 The harbor was alive with sailing craft, from Trans-Atlantic 
 liners to row-boats of quaint and curious shape painted in all the 
 colors of the rainbow. From the boatmen surrounding us came a 
 very Babel of noise — hotel-runners and shouts of welcome for friends 
 on our forward deck who shouted back in ear-splitting tones. What 
 throats those people have! 
 
 From the noise and color of the harbor we drove to the Hotel de 
 France through animated, delightful streets. White houses with 
 green Venetian blinds, balconies and red-tiled roofs, blooming gar- 
 dens and glimpses of domes and spires through rich vegetation. 
 
 The gay, little, two-wheeled Sicilian carts were irresistible. On 
 
 Page Two Hundred Twenty-five 
 
(iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii nil iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiittiiimiiiimmiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin i iiiii tiiiiiiiiniiimiiiiiiiintiniiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiimmiiiiiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiMiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiinniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiinini^ iiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiii 
 
 a yellow background the panels of the body were crowded with 
 figures in lurid colors, representing every imaginable subject; re- 
 ligious, historic and comic. The shafts, wheels and body were 
 adorned with scroll-work and on the axle a small, carved statue of the 
 owner's patron saint. 
 
 The carts were drawn by the smallest of donkeys, the harness 
 strung with jingling bells, bright with red tassels, bits of tinsel and 
 little square pieces of looking glass, and tied to the headstall between 
 the ears a tall cock's feather. The donkeys were driven without bits, 
 like the ponies in Naples, being guided by an iron ring around the 
 nose, with reins attached to the sides. The little carts were common 
 carriers, and loaded with lemons or oranges were a pretty sight. 
 
 Business over, men, women and children, as many as the cart 
 could hold, were off for pleasure, and the poor, little donkey's hardest 
 work and greatest abuse had just begun, for the gay, lighthearted 
 Sicilians were cruel to their animals. 
 
 The large markets were full of interest. Fruit and vegetables 
 hung in festoons of riotous color, lemons and oranges, radishes, blood- 
 red tomatoes and cauliflowers every shade of purple. 
 
 Over beds of charcoal, fish, flesh and fowl were sizzling in sepa- 
 rate pots of boiling oil and huge cauldrons were steaming with veg- 
 etables. All Palermo seemed to buy at least part of its food ready 
 cooked and the scenes around the stands of the cuisine economice were 
 very animated. 
 
 Palermo was a city of gardens, public and private. At the latter 
 there was always a custodian, often in livery, and whenever we 
 stopped to look within we were told that the forestieri were permitted 
 to enter. The gardens were beautiful and Calif ornians though we 
 were, the flowers made us exclaim in wonder and delight. Roses, 
 particularly those of sulphur hue were really gorgeous. We never 
 forgot a Marechal Niel vine, led back and forth from branch to 
 branch of two trees, and the overhead canopy made from hundreds 
 of large roses that seemed to have gathered the very escence of 
 sunshine. In the public garden we saw fine specimens of banyan 
 trees, and most interesting they were. 
 
 The Via Maquada at the fashionable driving hour was one of the 
 sights of Palermo. Slowly moving vehicles of every description, 
 occupied by people of every class; Ducal carriages following shabby 
 hacks along the handsome street. We spent two hours one afternoon 
 on the course that we might see the ladies of Palermo's fashionable 
 world. Many were beautiful; all were beautifully gowned. More 
 
 Page Two Hundred Twenty-six 
 
iiiiiiitinninnmniriiiiiiniiiinMiiiiniiiiinunninHininiiiiininiiiininiiiiiiiiiiumiiiiiuiiiiniiniiiiMiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinuiiiiniiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiniiuiiiiniiiin^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OFMANY 
 
 riiuMiiiiiiMiiiMiinniiniiiniiUNinniiiiniinnuHniHiiuiiinininiuiiiiiiniiiiuiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiininniniiinriniuniiniiiiiiitiHiiniiiimiiiiiuitniuiiimimiiiniiiiin 
 
 to our liking, however, were the trips we made by trolley-ear to the 
 outskirts, where lovely villas fringed the city, and farther on, to 
 orchards where lemons were being picked, — such beautiful lemons 
 with thin, velvety skins; and grapefruit trees of wonderful size, with 
 great clusters of fruit encircled by glossy leaves and large, snowy 
 blossoms. 
 
 Wandering about the streets we saw many thingi^ that enter- 
 tained us. A group of public letter writers at work; loud-voiced 
 water carriers with clinking glasses; little shrines let into the walls 
 of houses, with flowers on them by day and at night a row of burning 
 candles or small oil lamps; a black cloth nailed across a window as a 
 sign of mourning; white lettering on the strip of cloth told what 
 member the family had lost; a few goats, each with a tinkling bell, 
 driven along the sidewalk and milked whenever a customer appeared. 
 
 And what a sight all Palermo was on washing day, — clothes 
 stretched across narrow streets, and hanging from window ledges and 
 spacious balconies of handsome houses in broad fashionable streets; 
 every article of clothing worn by the human kind. 
 
 Just around the corner from our hotel was the Marina, a center 
 for clubs, shops and cafes, where we enjoyed the life of the street and 
 the outlook over the water. 
 
 The great Cathedral was beautiful and dignified, the facades 
 varied and picturesque, with turrets, towers and battlemented roof 
 outlined against the blue SiciHan sky. In the impressive interior 
 among a wealth of decoration the splendid treasured tombs of Roger, 
 that great Norman, First King of Sicily and his family. The raised 
 canopies with twisted columns, and the sarcophagi were of rich, 
 crimson porphyry. Each sarcophagus rested on the shoulders of six 
 kneeling Norman nobles, — the figures carved in white marble. 
 
 On Sunday morning we strolled into the court-yard before the 
 Cathedral. We heard the chanting of Mass within and walked back 
 and forth, along the wide beds of flowers on either side, that per- 
 fumed the soft, warm air. As we were going away, we noticed at the 
 church door a lovely child, quite alone, dressed in white from his 
 broad-brimmed hat to the small shppered feet. Long-fringed, 
 lustrous eyes lit up the face of a cherub. In answer to questions 
 we learned that madre was in the chiesa and that — spreading wide 
 the fingers of one hand, the better to make us understand, he was 
 cinque years of age. 
 
 While we were looking at him with admiration, an Officer in full 
 uniform ran up the steps and entered the Cathedral, throwing down 
 
 Page Two Hundred Twenty-seven 
 
•niiiiiiiiininitniiiiiriiiniiiiiiiiiiiniuiiiiiiiiiiiMMiMiniiiiniinriiiiHiniiuiiiiiiimtmiiiHUiiiiiiiniMniiimiiHiniiiiiimiiiiiniiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiunn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 oiutiitiiiiinnniiniitiiriiiiiniiniinniiiuiiiiiiiiiniuiiiHmmiiiiniiniiiiniiMuuiiuiiiiiiiiniiiininiinmiiiniiiiiniiuiiiiimiiiniiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiniiH^^^ 
 
 a half-smoked, lighted cigarette upon which our lovely cherub darted 
 like a bird of prey, picked it up, put in between his rosy lips and be- 
 gan to smoke. When it was nearly consumed he opened a chubby 
 hand, took another from fully a dozen half -smoked cigarettes and 
 lighted it like a veteran. He was enjoying himself immensely when 
 a handsome, dignified woman came from the church. At a glance 
 she took in the situation — smiled and bowed to us, and with a depreca- 
 tory shake of the head, threw the cigarette in the street, scolded the 
 culprit and led him away. As he passed us he opened the disengaged 
 hand, to show what he had left, and with a roguish smile hid his 
 treasures in a handy little pocket. We watched the small figure until 
 he vanished from view, then took his place as a lovely vignette on the 
 wall of memory. 
 
 We went to Monreale, four miles away, to see the Cathedral. A 
 plain exterior with massive towers; on two sides beautifully chiseled 
 bronze doors. Inside, the lower walls of white marble, — ^the upper 
 walls encrusted with mosaics over an area — according to Baedecker — 
 of 70,400 square feet. Old Testament mosaic tableaux on a golden 
 ground in soft and lovely tints, — many of the pictures startling in 
 their realism and the incidents depicted, but surpassingly beautiful 
 in general effect; a gorgeous, glittering blaze of exquisite and har- 
 monious color. The cloisters were cheerful and beautiful. Adjoining 
 them a delicious garden of orange and lemon trees, beds of flowers 
 and a fountain. 
 
 On a glorious morning we left "the White City" regretfully. 
 You had secured the berlina that we might have an unobstructed view 
 of "II Conca d' Oro," the golden shell that half surrounds Palermo. 
 A vast plain with miles and miles of lemon trees. The fruit hung 
 ripe and yellow and the air was heavy with the perfume of blossoms. 
 The land was irrigated by water held in large wooden casks sunk in 
 the ground. The rims were fringed with ferns and wild geranium; 
 the water reflected the trees overhead and the effect was very pretty. 
 
 As we neared the sea, we passed the Vale of Enna where Proser- 
 pine was gathering wild flowers when Pluto, charmed by her beauty, 
 carried her away to be the Queen of his dark realm. 
 
 In Palermo we had chosen the San Domenico (an old convent) 
 as the place to stay at Taormina. When we reached Giardini you 
 confidently gave the porter of that hotel your name, and said you 
 had written for accommodations. He was very sorry but the hotel 
 was full up when the letter came. Our second choice was the Timeo 
 — that too was full. We tried the Castel-a-Mare — not a room. A 
 
 Page Two Hundred Twenty-eight 
 
.irfniiniiriiunminHniniiiMinitiiinrMMinirniHiniiinMniininininMiiintniniininiiiwitiiiinniiiniiiiiiiiiiiiimiiniinninnniiiitiiniiniuniHiiiniiiiiiniiiMintninmiiniiiiiHitin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiHiiiniiiiitiuniMiiniiiniiiiHiiiiMniiiiiiiiMnMiiiiiinniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiimiiiniinniuiiiiiniiniHHtHiiiHiiiiniiiniiniiiiiniiniiiininniwiiinii^ 
 
 porter came to say The Metropole could give us a small room, which 
 we declined. The Metropole! when we had set our hearts on one of 
 those delightful hotels with romantic-sounding names of which we 
 had read and heard so much! No, indeed! so we got into the rickety 
 vehicle sent from a Sicilian hotel on the village street where we were 
 promised a large room and fine view. 
 
 We soon forgot our annoyance in the views that unfolded at 
 every turn of the white, zig-zag road up the steep mountain side that 
 led to Taormina 700 feet above the sea. Terraced villas clinging to 
 the ground like nests of birds, surrounded by ilex, cypress, lemon 
 and orange trees; past the delightful hotels that in day-dreams had 
 been our own; farther and ever farther below, shone the curving 
 shore of the blue Ionian sea; above the fleecy clouds, the glittering, 
 silver cone of Mt. Etna, clear-cut against the azure sky; the crumb- 
 ling red walls of the Greek Theater perched high upon a mound; 
 then Taormina, the Sicilian Hotel and a very small room looking on 
 the street. 
 
 "The fine view must be at the back," said I, turning from the 
 window. "I do hope we shall find a terrace." 
 
 Instead of a terrace we found a high, blank wall. 
 
 "Now what do you think of that?" I exclaimed, staring angrily 
 at the wall. "That rascal of a porter!" 
 
 "And you really expected a 'large room and a fine view' — ^your 
 credulity is refreshing, and also surprising." 
 
 The Greek Theater facing Mt. Etna, the immense proportions, 
 the crumbling, broken proscenium arches, the re-erected Corinthian 
 columns, the fragments of marble, and empty niches where statues 
 had stood were all very impressive. The vast auditorium, with rows 
 of seats faintly defined, was beautiful, under a carpet of soft moss 
 bearing the tiniest of pink flowers. 
 
 Artists were there vainly trying to transfer a bit of the glorious 
 panorama and matchless color to canvas ; the exquisite blue of the sky, 
 the shifting shades of turquoise in the shimmering sea; the hillsides 
 clothed in varying green of palm and cypress, orange and olive, and 
 dominating all, Mt. Etna "The Pillar of Heaven." Around the 
 majestic form fleecy clouds always at play, in turn concealing and 
 revealing what in part they hid, with an efl'ect that was the delight 
 and despair of the artist. Above the clouds, against the azure sky, 
 little whiff's of white smoke curling and wreathing from the snow- 
 wrapped crater where Ceres lit her flaming torch; while in the inner- 
 most recesses beneath, Vulcan hammered at his forge. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Twenty-nine 
 
;iiiiiniiiiiinimiinituiiiiiinniiiiiitiitiiiiiiiitiinmiiiinHiiininiHiniiiiiiiHiriinniiitiimiiiiiiiiiiiniMiiiniiniiHiniitiiiiiiiMniniiniiiiiininnnininiimiiiiniii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aiiHiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiutiniiiiiiiiniiiiiiiininHHUiiinitniiiiniiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuriniiiiiiiiiiiininininiiiiiiiiiiiiii^ 
 
 In the one long, winding street — where we were located and very 
 comfortable (although I did not forgive the porter) we saw much 
 to interest us. The people lived and worked out of doors. Women 
 mended clothes, combed their hair, cooked the dinners and cared for 
 the babies. Cobblers and tinkers patched and soldered. Goats and 
 kids roamed at large. Boys shouted and played. Little girls with 
 Madonna-like faces, their hair knotted and pinned on the top of their 
 heads, sat in the doorways beside mother or grandmother learning 
 to sew or knit, to make lace or drawn work. 
 
 At the picturesque old fountain crowned by a mythological 
 deity, women and girls gathered to talk and laugh and going away 
 carried jars and jugs and slender Greek-looking pitchers filled with 
 water on their well-poised heads. Sometimes we followed little lanes 
 running along the hillside where broken-down stairways and ruined 
 arches were almost hidden by heather and broom and wild geranium. 
 
 One afternoon we went down a steep, stony path to the San 
 Domenico Hotel and had tea on the flower-scented terrace, beside 
 the garden blooming with roses, violets and fresias; and one of the 
 old convent walls was covered with a pink-flowered climbing cactus 
 that was a delight. We saw the shrines and altars and frescoes, and 
 looking on the glorious, enchanting view in its setting of exquisite 
 color, we joined in the verdict of all who have seen it, that Taormina 
 is one of the loveliest spots on earth! from which, after four happy 
 and delightful days, we tore ourselves away and went to Messina. 
 
 A busy, prosperous, commercial city; wide, handsome streets 
 adorned with statues and fountains, a fine, old Cathedral, parks and 
 pleasure grounds. La Marina, an esplanade following the crescent- 
 shaped Messina Bay, splendidly built, with shops, hotels, club-houses 
 and p\iblic buildings was a most delightful place; the sidewalk 
 thronged with people of leisure, natives and strangers, while across 
 the street red-sashed fishermen were bustling about, porters with red 
 vests were loading and unloading the closely-moored vessels, and 
 skimming over the sparkling water hundreds of white sails gleamed 
 in the brilliant sunshine. 
 
 We stopped at the Messina Hotel, a commercial house fre- 
 quented by bankers, merchants and club-men and had the opportunity 
 of seeing Sicilian gentlemen eat spaghetti. It was served as a 
 separate course on large plates. The fork was used to connect the 
 spaghetti with the mouth, then laid aside. Heads were lowered low 
 over the plates and when the heads were raised the plates were empty 
 and the spaghetti gone. A clever piece of lingual work, but how 
 managed was a mystery. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Thirty 
 
imniiiiiniriiiuiiiiiiiiinitiiiiiiHiMinMiiiiiiiriniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiitiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuMiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiniiiiMiniiiuiiiHiiiiiiHiiiiiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiniiiiiiniirniniiniiinHiiiriiiiininniininiiiuuiiiiiiniiiiiiiiniiiniiiiininiiimiiiiniiiiiiimiMiniiiiiinniiiniiniinmiiniiiniinuijnininiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiniuiiin 
 
 In the evening we heard an excellent band concert in the Piazza 
 di Municipo and the following day steamed away from "one of the 
 finest harbors in the world," Messina's domes and spires and shining 
 white buildings looking beautiful against the background of dark 
 mountains. 
 
 A few years later came the terrible earthquake that destroyed the 
 city and buried half the population beneath the ruins. 
 
 In the rough, choppy waters of the Messina Straits we passed 
 between Scylla and Charybdis, those fabled monsters of Hellenic 
 legends, and went on our way to Naples, I lamenting that we had 
 not seen the Temples at Girgenti and Segesta. 
 
 "Why want to see everything?" you asked. "We have seen the 
 Temples of Paestum. There are none finer in Sicily." 
 
 May 25, 1902, we sailed from Boulogne on S. S. Moltke for 
 New York. We had one entire summer and part of another in the 
 dear old home, some happy months with relatives in the City, a 
 delightful winter in San Francisco at the Palace Hotel, and August 
 6, 1903, on the same good, old S. S. Moltke sailed from New York 
 for Hamburg. 
 
 With the coming of large steamers my dread of the sea had 
 vanished and I shared with you the pleasure of voyaging back and 
 forth. Now and then we had a day of rain or a rough sea, but 
 generally we were very fortunate in weather and the time passed all 
 too quickly. Beginning with the early dawn and the sailors' chorus 
 as they holystoned the decks — counting the hours by the ship's bells 
 —eating six times a day, yet always ready to respond to the sound 
 of the gong or bugle call — books, but very little reading — walking 
 and talking — playing rope quoits, shufflle-board and bridge. 
 
 We always met pleasant people; many that we were sorry ta 
 part from when the short voyage was over. j 
 
 On one of our crossings this way we met a lady and gentleman, 
 both of whom a few years later became prominent. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Lipton's deck chair was next to mine, and he was 
 also our table companion. A most agreeable, interesting and enter- 
 taining man, talking freely of the struggles and poverty of his early 
 life; of his Mother, and of his success; not boastfully but in a simple, 
 natural way, telling of his varied industries, from meat packing in 
 Chicago, to his tea plantations in Ceylon. He was also gifted with 
 the Irish brightness and told many amusing stories connected with 
 his career. 
 
 In crossing, we always chose in the dining saloon one of the 
 
 Page Two Hundred Thirty-one 
 
tiniuuiinimiMiHiininiininiiMiniuiniiiniMrniiiiniiiiiiinniniiiiminimniiniiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiiiimmiimiiniiniiiiHiiiiimnniiiiiniiiiiiiitnn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiniiniiiimmiiniiiiiiiiiHiiNHiiiiiiinMiinMiiinnniMrNniinniniininiiiiimiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiniiitiniiiiiimHiMiinniininnMiiiniiiiiiniiiiiiiiniininMiiniinitinniiniiiiHiHiiM 
 
 short tables on the ship's side that accommodated only ten or twelve. 
 Opposite us sat Mrs. Vanderbilt, her daughter Consuelo on her 
 right, her young son Harold on her left. Our seats were against the 
 wall and we could only be served by the steward passing things across 
 the table, and the way that charming girl was constantly on the alert 
 to help those of us so placed was something pleasant to remember. 
 Miss V. was extremely pretty — tall and graceful — sociable and 
 human, joining in a shy, modest way in the pleasant, lively talk of 
 the table. 
 
 About the third day of the voyage, sitting on deck after lun- 
 cheon, Mr. Lipton said to me — 
 
 "I wish you would tell me why Mrs. Vanderbilt never speaks 
 to you or Mrs. W." 
 
 [Mrs. W. was an attractive, agreeable young woman, who with 
 her husband, was homeward bound — they, with two well-known 
 business men of San Francisco made up the complement of our 
 table.] 
 
 "You will have to give me something easier than that, Mr. 
 Lipton, if you expect an answer to your question," said I. 
 
 Then he appealed to you, saying it was so strange, and he could 
 not understand it, finishing his remarks with "and you have no 
 aristocracy in America." 
 
 "We have an aristocracy of wealth," you told him "that is some- 
 times very arrogant." 
 
 It was a question that puzzled this kind-hearted, good-natured 
 son of Erin all the way over; and surely the conduct of Mrs. V. 
 could not pass unnoticed. She never raised her eyes from the table, 
 and worse than that, if her daughter was taking part in the conversa- 
 tion, listening or perhaps saying something herself, the mother hurry- 
 ing through all her meals, would rise, put her hand on her daughter's 
 shoulder, and with an "Excuse me, please," that lovely girl would 
 turn from the table and follow her mother. A bit of ship gossip — I 
 give it for what it is worth — was that Mrs. V. was very indignant at 
 not being put at the Captain's table. That may have caused her to 
 see the World, for the time through jaundiced eyes. 
 
 A few years later in the busy shopping streets of Naples we met 
 Sir Thomas Lipton — knighted for his generous contributions in pro- 
 viding food for the poor of London during a hard, cold winter. His 
 yacht, the Shamrock, had just been defeated for the second time, but 
 he was not discouraged. His parting words were, "Good-by — I shall 
 lift that cup yet, believe me." 
 
 Page Two Hundred Thirty-two 
 
iniirMiiininniHniMiitiiiiiiiniiiiniHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiniiiiMiinmniiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiMiniiiiiiniiiiiiMMtiiinniniiinitniiiMniiiiuiiiniiiiiHniiiiniininiiinMU 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 «iinii[iiiMninnnniiiiniuMiiNnruiiHiiiriniiiMiiiiiniiniiiiMnniiiniriiniiiMiHninininiiniiiiiinniininiiiiiiiiiniHiniiniiinitiiininiuiiiinHMuiiMniniitinininiiiiininiuiniuiniiiin 
 
 Consuelo Vanderbilt was a Duchess, and a great favorite with 
 Royalty. Later, when domestic troubles came, we felt sincerely 
 sorry, but sure that the lovely Duchess was not at fault. 
 
 Only once in our many crossings was the even, pleasant tenor of 
 our days disturbed. A young man in the steerage died and was 
 buried at sea. We went with a number of passengers to the stern. 
 The burial service was read, and the steamer slowed down when the 
 body was committed to the deep. Looking back we saw the long 
 box that had not been sufficiently weighted, tossing on the crest of the 
 waves. For a long time I could not put from my mind or my mind's 
 eye, that wooden object following in the wake of our ship, as though 
 in pursuit. 
 
 To resume our journey, from Hamburg we went to Kiel. The 
 canal was full of shipping and very animated, the Emperor's yacht, 
 the Hohenzollern, riding gracefully at anchor. From Kiel by steamer 
 to Korsor then to Copenhagen through a pleasant country of tawny- 
 colored grain being harvested, tracts of vivid green of sugar beets, 
 and fields of red clover where long rows of cows were tethered. When 
 milking time came picturesque milkmaids appeared, each followed by 
 a large Danish hound and cart that took the milk to the farm house 
 where it was turned into the excellent butter that is a source of great 
 wealth to Denmark. 
 
 The narrow, winding, lively shopping street of Copenhagen was 
 full of interest. The windows we enjoyed most displayed pottery 
 from the Royal Porcelain Factory, embroideries, and rich-looking fur 
 garments; the jackets we thought the prettiest were in color soft 
 gray flecked with white, which upon inquiry we found were not fur, 
 but made from the skins of cormorants captured in Greenland. They 
 were warm and durable with the advantage of being light in weight. 
 
 The open air market was held in a large square; adjoining it, on 
 the quay, the fish market; the fish all kept in tanks. The long row 
 of old fish women looked grotesque wearing large, black straw poke 
 bonnets to which full white capes were attached. 
 
 We walked across a large park to the home of Mr. Carl Jacob- 
 sen who has given to the Nation his wonderful collection of Etruscan, 
 Egyptian, Greek and Roman antiquities. His collection of Roman 
 portrait-statues and busts is claimed to be the finest and largest in 
 the world. In the Thorwaldsen Museum we saw a complete collec- 
 tion of that sculptor's work — originals or replicas. 
 
 The great pleasure resort that took the name of the old Roman 
 town of waterfalls, temples, gardens and villas ; and has in turn given 
 
 Page Two Hundred Thirty-three 
 
iiinMnniiiiMiMiiiiniiiimnHiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiNitinnMniiiiiiiiiiiiiuimiiiiiininmiiimiiiiiininnuiiiiitiHiniiiiiniiiiiiiitiiinminiinnnHHitiiiiinMn^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 uiiiiniiiiinniiininiiinuMMinMUiiiiiinnnniiMiniiiiiiiiiNiiiHuiHiniiiiiiriniiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiniiiuiiniMiiiiininiininiiiiiiiniuimiiuiniiniiiiiHimiiMMiiiiii^ 
 
 the name to theaters, concert-halls and public gardens the World 
 over: the Copenhagen Tivoli, a large park in the very heart of the 
 city with groves of trees, lakes, fountains, waterfalls and parterres 
 of flowers, furnishing every kind of entertainment and amusement 
 we found a most delightful place at all hours. 
 
 In the morning men sat under the trees reading their papers; 
 women knitting or embroidering; young people were boating on the 
 lakes and children playing games. Towards evening when the 
 twilight of the North lingers so delightfully, family groups, parents 
 and children had supper at tables under the trees. Whether prawns 
 and white wine; frankfurters, cheese and beer, or bread and milk, 
 everywhere cheerf ulnes, talk and laughter. 
 
 There were open air theaters, and a beautiful concert hall where 
 we heard a noble orchestra render classical compositions, when the 
 Tivoli with numberless colored lights looked like fairyland. 
 
 Leaving Copenhagen for Elsinore the roacj skirts the picturesque 
 Zealand Coast where the Royal family and the wealthy residents of 
 Copenhagen have delightful summer homes. At Elsinore on the 
 Straits of the Kattegat stands the massive Castle of Kronborg, that 
 Shakespeare calls the Castle of Elsinore where, on the platform 
 before it, Hamlet sees his father's ghost. 
 
 Our train was carried across the Straits to Helsingborg on a 
 steamboat with three decks. The lower one had cabins and refresh- 
 ments; the middle deck carried our cars, and the upper deck served 
 as a ferry between the two towns. 
 
 Our mid-day dinner at a Swedish station restaurant on our way 
 to Gotenborg was a novel experience. A long table crowded with 
 steaming dishes; soup, fish, meats, vegetables and sweets; piles of 
 plates and heaps of knives, forks and spoons. There were no waiters. 
 We made a rush with our fellow travelers, filled our plates, carried 
 them to a small side table and enjoyed an excellent dinner at a very 
 moderate price. 
 
 From Gotenborg we went up the valley of the Gota through 
 beautiful forests of beech and birch to the Trolhatten Falls. The 
 entire height of the six falls and rapids is only 108 feet but the 
 enormous volume of water forced through the narrow gorge makes 
 the spectacle grand and imposing. The hillsides were covered with 
 pink heather, forming a lovely setting for the Falls. 
 
 From Trolhatten to Christiania, an attractive city with charming 
 homes, fine public buildings (many of a reddish granite) delightful 
 pictures by Norwegian artists in the Museum of Art, tempting 
 
 Page Two Hundred Thirty-four 
 
itiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiMHiiiiiiiiimiiiniiiiiniiimiiiiinimiiiiiiiuiiuiminHniiniiiiniimniniiiiiinMiimrtiHiniiiiiiiiiiiiinii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 jiiiMMnHniiiiitiiiMiiimMiiiriinnninuiiMnMniininniiinHHiiniimiiiiiiiimHiiiiiitHiiiiiiiiniHiiiiniiiiiiiiiiuiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiuiiiMiitiniitiiiMiiininiinuiiiiin 
 
 articles of filigree work in gold and enamel in shop windows, and in 
 the Stor-torv — great market — a large variety of fish and game, 
 flowers and fruit; berries were particularly plentiful and of many 
 kinds. 
 
 In a charming novel of Beatrice Harraden, the scene of which 
 was laid in Norway, we had read of the cloud berry, much esteemed 
 by the natives, that would not grow or thrive under cultivation. 
 Seeing a tray of large, raspberry-shaped berries, orange red in color, 
 we were pleased to hear they were cloud berries. They had a 
 delicious flavor, all their own, and the marketman, who spoke English 
 bore out Miss Harraden's statement; they were wild and unsociable, 
 loving inaccessible places in the hills, resented transplanting and 
 every kind of care, but bore freely when left alone. 
 
 The most interesting object in Christiania was the Viking ship 
 dating from the ninth century. The mound covering it was only 
 100 miles from the city yet it was not excavated until the year 1880 
 revealing a ship larger and in a better state of preservation than any 
 previously found. The vessel, 75 feet long and 15 feet wide, was 
 built for both sailing and rowing, having a mast amidship and 16 
 rowlocks on each side. In ages past robbers had plundered the 
 sepulchral chamber; only fragments of costly weapons and trinkets, 
 and bits of silk embroidered in gold thread remained. 
 
 On a lovely morning, by an electric railway running through 
 forests of pine, spruce and birch we were carried well up the Hol- 
 menkollen mountain, then climbing a steep path we reached the View 
 Tower. 
 
 A striking young woman with a handsome Danish hound beside 
 her was looking over the country. She was hatless and gloveless, 
 dressed in white, of heroic size, with abundant light-brown hair, clear 
 blue ej'^es and firm white teeth. You asked if she spoke English. 
 
 "A leetle," she answered with a pleasant smile. 
 
 The view from the tower was extended and beautiful. Through 
 trees, in the city beneath, we saw the domes, church spires and tiled 
 roofs of homes glistening in the sun. Our companion located for us 
 the Storthing, or Parliament House and diff*erent public buildings. 
 Seaward was the harbor, the shipping and Christiania fjord fifty 
 miles in length with rocky, wooded, sinuous banks. 
 
 We had seen extended views from three sides of the tower; on 
 the fourth side the outlook was hemmed in by the green domes of 
 hills. There were several houses on the mountain side and our com- 
 pare Two Hundred Thirty-five 
 
itinMriiiiiiiiiiniiiiHiiitiiiiiinitiiiMiiiniiuriMiiitinnniiiniiiiiiiiiiiiniiimiiiminiimniniiiiiiiiiitniiiiniiiiiiniiuiininiiiiniiiiiinniniiiiiunHnnitiinHinnnn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 niiniiMniiniiiiininiiniiinniiniiiiiiniiiiiiMMniiiinnuiiiiiinninnninmiinimiiiiimiiimiiiiiiininiiiMiniiininiiinniininniiiimmiiiiimniiiimiiiiiiiiiMn^ 
 
 panion pointed to one in which she Hved. It had wide porches and 
 stood in a grove of larch trees. 
 
 "How dehghtful!" I exclaimed, and turning to you said, "I 
 wish we could spend two or three weeks in a place like that." 
 
 We were decidedly nonplussed when our companion said, "They 
 wouldn't take you." 
 
 Of course I flared up at once saying indignantly and with 
 emphasis "They — wouldn't — take — us !" 
 
 "No" she answered quietly, "they wouldn't take you." 
 
 Then you spoke, "I hope, Miss, that you will give us the 
 reason." 
 
 "Yes, I will," she said. "It is this way. We come every sum- 
 mer from Copenhagen in a large party. There are many families 
 and we are all plain, simple folk and do not want many things ; when 
 the English or Americans come they must have more and when we 
 have more we must pay more, so our Faders and Moders tell the 
 Vierten that when he takes any English or Americans in the house 
 we will all go away and never come back." 
 
 After that explanation we had some pleasant, bantering talk to 
 convince her that many Americans like ourselves had simple tastes. 
 
 "Oh yes," she said, "you have simple tastes, but you live at the 
 Grand Hotel and like it." 
 
 "Because houses like yours will not admit us," you laughingly 
 told her. 
 
 We left the tower and a short distance down the path turned 
 and looked up. She stood at the railing and seeing us, waved both 
 hands in token of farewell. 
 
 "A daughter of the Vikings" you called her, and as a daughter 
 of the Vikings she took her place to mingle thereafter with our 
 pleasant memories. 
 
 The following morning as we went into the breakfast room we 
 were preceded by a lady, two very pretty young girls and a wide- 
 awake boy of about ten. They joined a gentleman and we were 
 given a small table in a bay window beside them. A service table 
 with fruit was rolled in and as it was halted in the passage way 
 between our table and theirs we could not help seeing what was upon 
 it. Strawberries, raspberries, cherries, a bunch of hothouse grapes 
 and a hothouse melon. The berries were served and the cherries and 
 grapes transferred to the large table. 
 
 We exchanged glances and smiles, each knowing what was in 
 the others mind. The daughter of the Vikings; the reputation of 
 
 Page Two Hundred Thirty-six 
 
*HiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiuiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiHiiHiiniiiiiiiiiiiiniittmiiiinniin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 auiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiuiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiiiuiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHuiiiiuniiiiniiiiiiiiiuiiiiuiiiiiiiiiininiiiiiiiiiiiMi^ 
 
 Americans for wanting many things; the having more and paying 
 more. While eating our breakfast we heard the following: 
 
 Young America: "I want a piece of melon." 
 
 Paterfamihas (folding up the newspaper he had been reading) : 
 "No, Harold, you have had fruit enough." 
 
 Materf amilias : "He may as well have a piece, since you ordered 
 it. They will probably charge for it." 
 
 And she told their waiter to cut the melon. 
 
 Paterfamilias (apologetically) : "I didn't order the melon. The 
 waiter asked what fruit he should bring and I said, whatever you 
 have." 
 
 Young America: "Oh, but that melons bully. I want another 
 piece. You better try it. Dad." 
 
 As we were leaving the room, you said, 
 
 "Well, that was a coincidence," and we wondered what the 
 Faders and Moders sojourning on the mountainside would have 
 said, could they have seen the fruit served an American family for 
 breakfast and known the cost; for the Grand was an expensive 
 hotel; too expensive in every way to justify the notice at the foot of 
 lunch and dinner menus, 
 
 "When no wine is ordered there will be a charge of 50 ore (seven 
 cents) for ice water, for each person." 
 
 We went from Christiania to Stockholm by the night express, 
 and found the sleeping cars very comfortable. We noticed space 
 provided in each coach for "ladies traveling alone." Reached Stock- 
 holm early in the morning and at the Grand Hotel fairly revelled in 
 the unusual luxury of hot and cold running water in our dressing 
 room; a delightful hotel, the Grand, overlooking the harbor and busy 
 quays, with charming distant views. 
 
 Stockholm captivated us completely by its picturesque situation; 
 a City of parks, promenades and homes (many with splendid granite 
 facades) of churches, statues, fountains, shops and public buildings 
 extending over a plain; half-encirchng hills; and islands that thickly 
 fringed the coast. 
 
 Lifts carried us to the summits of lofty hills and gave us wonder- 
 ful views, and breezy excursions in sheltered waters took us to islands 
 each with its own particular claim to beauty or interest. 
 
 In the Royal Palace we saw ancient armor and old-time Scan- 
 danavian costumes ; in the Museum of Art a fine collection of pictures 
 of the old and modern schools, and one evening we heard The Flying 
 
 Page Two Hundred Thirty-seven 
 
miiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiniiitiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiHHiiiiHiiiiiiiiHiiHiiiiiniintHiiHiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiuniiuniiiiH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aiiiiiiiiiininiiiiiiniiiiiiuiiiiiiiiniiMiiiinniiniininnnnniuniiuiiiiiniiiimiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiinuiniiiinniiniiiiiiiniitnniininiiuiiniiiiuiiiiiininn 
 
 Dutchman delightfully sung in the Royal Opera House, a mag- 
 nificent structure within and without, standing on a terrace that 
 commanded a lovely view. The foyer was gorgeous and the hand- 
 some restaurant well patronized between the acts, solid food and 
 much beer disappearing. Our seats near the middle of the parquet 
 cost four krone (60 cents) each. 
 
 Skansen, the great pleasure-ground, comprised seventy acres of 
 picturesqueness. Lakes, forest, rugged hills, pastures, and cultivated 
 fields ; Sweden in miniature with a railway to carry the visitor around, 
 and up to peaks that gave glorious views on every side. 
 
 There were many entertaining and instructive features. On 
 large platforms young people in quaint Scandanavian costumes of 
 the dim past, sang folk-songs and danced folk-dances with grace and 
 abandon. 
 
 An immense aviary contained birds from the frozen North; a 
 large herd of reindeer roamed over their ample field, and we saw elk 
 with magnificent horns and many fur bearing animals. 
 
 An encampment of Laplanders with examples of their summer 
 and winter habitations, and uncouth Lapp peasants in the dress of 
 their locality was one of the curious sights. 
 
 We left beautiful Stockholm with regret and crossed Sweden 
 from the Baltic to the North Sea by the Gota Canal, 500 miles in- 
 cluding lakes and natural waterways. Between the locks we had 
 many a long, delightful walk on shady roads bordering the Canal. 
 
 The time was three days and two nights. The boats were com- 
 fortable but space limited. The cabins contained two narrow berths 
 with a narrow passageway between. A tiny washstand under a 
 porthole and racks above the berths for clothing and luggage. 
 
 On the Gota Canal boat we fell in with several peculiarly 
 Swedish customs. The institution of smorgasbord was in force at 
 every meal; a side table with butter, cheese, salt and smoked fish, 
 reindeer meat, tongue, pickled eels, et cetera. That et cetera got us 
 often into trouble, for tempted by curiosity we put many a morsel in 
 our mouths that we swallowed with difficulty. 
 
 There were bottles of arrac, a spirituous liquor, something akin 
 to liquid fire. The passengers helped themselves according to fancy 
 and carried their gain to the breakfast table where they found bread, 
 cold meat and eggs cooked in different ways. The breakfast was 
 good and abundant but did not include either tea or coffee, for 
 which an extra charge was made. Many men ordered and drank beer. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Thirty-eight 
 
niiiiiiiniMiiiiiiiiiiniiniiniiiHiiiiiiiMiiniitiiniiininiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiniiiMniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiinniiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiitniiiiiiiniiHiiiiiiHiiu 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 •iiiuiiimiiininiiniiniiiiiinnninuiiuMnnnnnMinniuiHiiiinniinitimiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiniiinHiuiiniiiiiiiiiuNuimiiMiinaiiiiiuuiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiniiniiiiniin 
 
 The charge for dinner read, Ladies 4 krone, Gentlemen 4 kr. 
 50 ore. 
 
 When we left the boat at Gotenborg we found all the City cele- 
 brating the King's birthday. Music by marching bands and the 
 streets full of people and bright with waving flags. 
 
 The following day we went to Helsingborg, and recrossed the 
 Straits of Kattegat to Elsinore. The King of Denmark's yacht all 
 black and gold with Royal standard flying was just leaving the 
 harbor. The King was going to meet his daughter, the Queen of 
 England, and was pointed out to us as he paced the deck. 
 
 One of the surprises in that Northern land was the abundance 
 of fruit seen in the markets and fruit stands; diff'erent fruits that 
 we associate with diff'erent seasons of the year. In a fruiterer's shop 
 at Copenhagen that we often visited, my ever ready pencil one day 
 jotted down the following: Nectarines, apricots and peaches from 
 the City hot-houses and oranges from afar ; but grown in the country 
 around, cherries, a variety of plums, apples and pears, strawberries, 
 raspberries, gooseberries and blackberries all fine and of excellent 
 flavor. 
 
 After several pleasant days we went to Korsor and took a boat 
 for Kiel. At lunch you ordered a bottle of beer. When you tasted 
 it you complained to the waiter that the beer was not cold enough. 
 
 The gentleman sitting next to you said, "All Americans and 
 Englishmen want their beer cold. We like it better and think it 
 better for us when it is not too cold." 
 
 That remark was the beginning of a conversation that lasted 
 for the five hours we were together on the little steamer. Before we 
 left the lunch table visiting cards were exchanged and we learned that 
 our companion was 
 
 F. Mendahl 
 Chambellan de S. M. le Roi de Danemark 
 
 M. Mendahl had met all the Sovereigns of Europe and many 
 famous and distinguished people of whom he talked in a most enter- 
 taining way. He and his wife spoke English fluently. Mme. M. 
 was familiar with much of our best literature and had translated 
 Motley's History of the Netherlands into Danish. 
 
 They asked many questions about California, and what had most 
 interested us in Norway, Sweden and Denmark. We spoke among 
 other things of the beautiful statue of Hans Christian Andersen in 
 one of the parks — a seated figure holding an open book in one hand, 
 
 Page Two Hundred Thirty-nine 
 
imiiinuiiiirnriiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiininiMiriHiMiiiiiMHiininriniiiiHiuiiintiiiiiiiimiiiiiHHHiiiiiiiHiniiiiniuniiiiruimiiuiniiniiiiiiiiMiuiiiiiHniiiiiiniiiinuiiiiiiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aiiiiiuiiiuiiimiiiimiiiiriiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiniiiuHiiuiiiimuHuiimniiiiiiiiiiuiiimimiuiiiwiiiiiiinuiiiHiiiniinuiuiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiuuniiniinuiiiiiiiiii^^^^ 
 
 the other raised is if to command attention. M. Mendahl said we 
 might thank his wife for that. Mme. M. had started the subscription, 
 and among many designs submitted, this one was chosen by herself 
 and associates. The design, however, called for a number of children 
 around the base in a listening attitude. Mme. M. carried the design 
 to Andersen then sick in bed. 
 
 His own figure pleased him but the children he did not want. 
 "You know," he said plaintively, "they always disturb me." and after 
 a pause added, "I do not want to be remembered only as a teller 
 of tales to children." 
 
 M. and Mme. Mendahl (both past seventy years of age) said 
 that when their children were young, Andersen, an old man, was a 
 frequent visitor to their home and the children hailed his coming with 
 delight, sure of a wonderful story; that Andersen was fond of the 
 children of his many friends but not of children in general. 
 
 At Kiel we said good-by to our delightful companions of the 
 afternoon. They went to the home of a married daughter; we took 
 a train for Hamburg. 
 
 The following morning looking from our windows in the Ham- 
 burger Hof at the swans, and boats plying in every direction on the 
 Basin, we discussed where we should go. The discussion ended by 
 your saying, 
 
 "I will take you to Utrecht that you may see the place where the 
 Dutch branch of your ancestors came from." 
 
 "You should add in 1635" I suggested, "I do, always." 
 
 And to Utrecht we went; a quaint, interesting old town. The 
 University once so famous, the Cathedral with a fine chime of musical 
 bells, and long rows of old-fashioned houses, the pointed fronts on 
 tree shaded streets, the backs built flush on the canals with broad 
 flights of steps that lost themselves at the waters edge, where boats 
 were tied, as in Venice. Our Hotel stood in one of those picturesque 
 rows and the boating on the canal interested us very much. 
 
 We left Utrecht for Amsterdam in a canal boat. On both sides 
 were villas, with red-tiled roofs and gardens full of flowers. In the 
 distance, farm houses with fanciful hayricks silhouetted against the 
 sky, and farmers' daughters coming and going on the paths made 
 pretty pictures. They were all dressed alike. A pale blue calico 
 dress and a white apron that reached to the wooden shoes; bare, 
 round arms and a close fitting white cap that framed a wholesome- 
 looking rosy face. Very pretty and very quaint they looked and very 
 happy although each pair of shoulders carried a flat wooden yoke 
 
 Page Two Hundred Forty 
 
'iiiiitiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiii nniiitiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitinniiiniiiiiiiiitiiiMiirinii riii i i iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiMniiiNiiiriiiniinininiiiiiMiiiniiHnniiiininiiiiriiriiiHiuiinniiiiiirimiiiHiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniuuiMiiniiiiiiHinuiuiinunnininininiiMinnnnitMnnnniininnriiniiinNnn 
 
 and hanging by chains at both ends a bucket filled with milk, fruit 
 or vegetables to supply people living in the villas. 
 
 The flat country, the want of variety, the long and frequent 
 stops to take on passengers and commodities and the snail's pace of 
 the horses soon became wearisome; but we were bound for Amster- 
 dam, we had a steamer trunk and there seemed no way of escape. 
 We were talking with a gentleman who spoke English when our boat 
 stopped at Nyschuss. Nyschuss! I learned to spell it; but although 
 we tried time after time, with all the aid our friend from the Nether- 
 lands could give us, we never got near the right pronunciation. 
 Correctly spoken, the word sounded very much like a double sneeze 
 broken off in the middle. 
 
 Well! at Nyschuss you saw a boy with a wagon that you 
 thought might be large enough and strong enough for your purpose. 
 You asked the Dutch gentleman how far it was to a railroad station. 
 Three miles. He acted as interpreter and while the boat was still at 
 Nyschuss we were walking on a path, beside a small canal — a slooten 
 — well on our way to the station, the boy and little wagon following 
 with our trunk and traps. 
 
 And we went to Leiden, such a quaint place! The old Univer- 
 sity, the old Town Hall and two old, old Gateways! and you wanted 
 to see the house of John Robinson, the Noncomfortist divine who 
 encouraged and advised his flock of Puritans to emigrate to America 
 but was too wise to go with them. He remained in Leiden, and we 
 had a great hunt to find his house, and when found concluded it was 
 not worth the trouble. 
 
 Then at the Hague we were fortunate in seeing Queen Wilhel- 
 mina going in state to the Medieval-looking Government buildings. 
 The Queen was dressed in white, with Prince Henry beside her. The 
 carriage was drawn by six jet-black horses and the outriders were in 
 scarlet and gold. 
 
 We spent two months in Paris, the winter in Nice and early in 
 April, 1904, were at Gibraltar on our way to Tangier, considered one 
 of the worst landing places in Europe and a storm was brewing on 
 that particular day. When we reached the ship's ladder the passengers 
 that were going ashore — all men — were in the little boat and our trial 
 began. 
 
 There was the Captain telling us to make haste for the wind was 
 increasing every moment. There was you, begging me not to jump 
 and urging that we give up the trip. There was I, never seeing the 
 opportunity nor having the courage to make what seemed a desperate 
 
 Page Two Hundred Forty-one 
 
itniiiiiiniiiMiiHiiiiiiiiminiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiniiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiitiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiii iitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iHiMiiinirininMnininiriinniiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiniiiiiiuiiniiiiiiriiniiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 leap. There was one of the boatmen vainly trying to hold the boat 
 for an instant where I stood. There was that demon of a boat, 
 tossing and rolling, going up on the crest of a wave above our 
 heads then dropping down into a hollow of the sea. I was just about 
 to turn back, when quick as a flash a boatman grabbed me, and set 
 me down in the lap of an elderly Englishman. 
 
 "I am so sorry" I said in apology. 
 
 He answered by saying politely "No matter." 
 
 With the gentleman's help I managed to stand up. Just then 
 the boat gave a tremendous lurch and I came down with all my 
 weight on the toes of one of his feet. 
 
 "Oh, I am so very, very sorry," I said. Poor man! that time 
 there was no assurance that it was "no matter." 
 
 While I had been floundering about you had managed to get into 
 the boat and we were off. 
 
 We landed at the end of a long pier in the midst of dragomen; 
 donkey boys and beggars. We gave our handbags to a porter from 
 the Continental Hotel and walked towards the town until we reached 
 that hostelry. We were to remain only twenty-four hours and 
 wishing to make the most of our time we engaged a dragoman at 
 once, picking one out from fully twenty applicants. 
 
 His name was Tewfik; he was twenty-two years of age, hand- 
 some, and full of zeal in his calling. He took us to the Soko market 
 held in a large square outside the walls. A string of camels had just 
 arrived and the produce they brought was being unloaded. Oranges, 
 lemons, shaddock, dates, vegetables, bunches of fragrant mint, bags 
 of grain, hundreds of pigeons in crates and various kinds of poultry. 
 
 Dozens of poor women were in the square waiting to pick up any 
 refuse left behind by the market men, from the camels' packs. It 
 was difficult to believe they were women, those shapeless, ridiculous 
 looking bundles enveloped from head to feet in coarse, white, very 
 dirty woolen garments, with narrow slits before the eyes through 
 which they looked upon the world. Soon as they saw us they came 
 with whining voices and hands outstretched for alms; and such was 
 our introduction to the romantic beings I had so longed to see, "the 
 veiled women of the East." 
 
 The hotel dining room that evening was a fascinating study for 
 me. There were not many guests but waiters were plentiful, and I 
 had hard work to keep my eyes from following every turn those 
 waiters made. They were dressed in garments that fell to the feet, 
 made of soft, shimmering silk in many colors, with narrow scarlet 
 
 Page T'ivo Hundred Forty-two 
 
iHiHiHiiiiiniiiiiiiiiniiiHitiiiiiiiiiiHiitiiiiuiininiiniMiiiiuinMiiiniiiiiiiiiiHiiniiiiriiiiiiiiinitiiiiiiniiiHiniiiiiiiiiiinuMiiiniiiiiiniiiiiiiMiiiiiiniiiiiniiiiiiiiiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 4iiiMiiiiiNiiinHniMiiiniiiiiniinnMiMiiininiiHrniiMiHniiniiiiiiuiniiiHiimimmmMiiiiumiinintnMHnininiiuiiiiniiniiniMiiiHiiiiiiiMMtniinmHiiiMinMiniiiiuiiiiiii^^ 
 
 girdles, the short ends hanging at the side. They were excellent 
 waiters and really graceful as they moved noiselessly about in their 
 slippered feet. 
 
 A most striking touch of Orientalism was given by four African 
 boys about ten years of age wearing long, full skirts and short, 
 scarlet jackets; they stood behind the guests, two on each side of the 
 table, with long ebony sticks at the end of which were disks of bright 
 colored paper; they were so placed that they could sweep the table 
 from end to end and so keep the swarm of flies from settling; but 
 for those boys we should have taken in flies with every mouthful of 
 food. 
 
 We had arranged with Tewfik that we would go to a concert in 
 the evening and after dinner we found him waiting in the lobby. 
 There were no street lamps and every one going out at night carried 
 a lantern. I wanted one but Tewfik said ladies never carried them 
 and that two would be enough for our party. 
 
 The concert was given in a large, square room lighted by smelly 
 oil lamps. On a handsome rug in the middle of the floor the Arabs 
 sat cross-legged in a large circle minus shoes and slippers that were 
 left at the door; they were talking and laughing, drinking tea or 
 coffee and eating cakes. The musicians were in a corner; their 
 instruments mandolins, tambourines and drums. The noise was 
 endurable until a man with a doleful voice began to sing. That was 
 dreadful ! 
 
 Tewfik asked if we would have refreshments. 
 
 Yes, we would take tea and cake. We were glad we asked for 
 tea, for then we learned the principal use to which the quantity 
 of mint we had seen brought to market was put. We found about 
 a dozen leaves in our cups upon which sugar had been sprinkled and 
 the hot tea poured. It was delicious. We drank it often in Tangier, 
 and many times thereafter. 
 
 The waiter who served our breakfast next morning and the boy 
 who brushed away the flies were plain grubs in long skirted drab 
 cotton dresses unlike the brilliant butterflies that had hovered around 
 the dinner table. 
 
 After breakfast we walked down to the pier; waves were dash- 
 ing over it, storm signals flying and notices posted, "Small boats 
 ^vill not go out today." I was jubilant as I wanted to stay longer 
 than you had planned. 
 
 We were storm-bound for three days, and while the sea was 
 wind-swept, the weather on land was perfect; we had a very happy 
 
 Page Two Hundred Forty-three 
 
iMiiiinnimininiinniiiiiiiinitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiininiiiiniiiiiiiiiiniiimiiiiiiiiiniiiniiiiiinimiiiMiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiuiniiiiiiiiiiiiniiinnin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 MHininuniiiiniiiMuiimiiriniiiniMiMiinMuiirniiMinHiiHnniiiiiiiniiiiiiinniiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniiiininiiiitiiiriiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiMiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiniiininiininuun^ 
 
 time enjoying every moment. Pleasantly situated on high ground 
 overlooking a spacious bay, Tangier was to us an attractive, curious 
 and most interesting place. The square, two'storied houses bluish- 
 white in color had flat roofs where the women sat to get the air. Some 
 were without windows, being lighted from the roofs ; others had small 
 windows placed quite out of reach of the Moorish maidens who might 
 have a fancy for flirtation. 
 
 The few veiled women we met on the streets were a great im- 
 provement over those we had seen in the market place; they were 
 shapely, their clean, white garments did not look so burdensome and 
 the separate veil of lighter fabric showing the dark, lustrous eyes gave 
 a romantic suggestiveness of what might be hidden. 
 
 The Moorish merchants were studies in black and white. Their 
 shops open to the street simply consisted of boxes with shelves on 
 three sides; in the middle, cross-legged the merchants sat, all their 
 goods within reach. The white bournous left bare the arms, and legs, 
 from the knees to the yellow-slippered feet; large, white turbans 
 completed the singular dress. When they smoked their hookahs — 
 long pipes, the bowls so arranged that the smoke was cooled by water 
 — they were pictures of contentment. They seemed indiflPerent about 
 selling; rather gave the impression of not wanting to be disturbed. 
 
 On one occasion we found an English couple bargaining for a 
 piece of rich stufl* spread over a merchant's lap; passing again an 
 hour later they were still there. 
 
 "Are you making any progress?" you asked. 
 
 They smiled, and the lady answered, "Very little up to this 
 time; but I am hopeful." 
 
 The Jewish population was large. The women were fine looking, 
 dressed richly, wore a great deal of jewelry and went about the streets 
 unveiled. The Jewish merchants had fine shops well stocked with 
 high-grade goods. Many were striking figures in garments of purple 
 cloth. Others, not pleasant to look at, that Tewfik said came from 
 Poland, wore long, shiny, greasy-looking, black alpaca coats that 
 fell to the feet and black skull caps with curls hanging down on each 
 side of the face. 
 
 The streets were animated, narrow, dirty and roughly paved. 
 Donkeys and ponies loaded with conmiodities or carrying people, and 
 occasionally a veiled woman; the boys in charge shouting their cry of 
 warning, "balak, balak;" noisy, bare-legged water carriers with boar 
 skins on their shoulders from which they poured water in brass cups 
 for the thirsty; dogs barking; donkeys braying; men prostrating 
 
 Page Two Hundred Forty-four 
 
■iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitniiiiiiiitiiuiiiiiiiiitiHniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiimiiiiiii tiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 nnniiininiiiiiinimiiiiimmuiiiiiiiininiiMiiiiiiuiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiJiiiiiiriininimiiiiininniiniiniiiniiiiiiiiriniiuniiinniiiiiiinininniiiiniiiniiiiiiiiniiiiiMiiiiiiui 
 
 themselves at sound of the Muezzin's voice calling the faithful to 
 prayer; men at a fountain washing their faces, legs and feet before 
 entering the mosque to pray ; beggars ; snake charmers ; women sitting 
 on the housetops; now and then an ungainly camel crowding every 
 one to the wall. Such were the sights and sounds in the nameless 
 streets of Tangier. 
 
 Tewfik asked if I would like to see the inside of a harem. Hear- 
 ing that I would, at an appointed time, with a large box of Turkish 
 sweetmeats that Tewfik said was the usual offering, we made our 
 way to a certain house. In answer to a rap, the door was opened by 
 a black mite of a boy (African) and while you paced up and down 
 the block, I went within; first into a vestibule and from there into a 
 room lighted by windows near the ceiling. 
 
 There were four houris ? in the room ; two seated Turkish fashion 
 on flat cushions, two reclining on divans. Their faces looked like 
 masks and were devoid of all expression, so thickly were they pow- 
 dered, white and red. There were no chairs. A pile of cushions was 
 pointed out to me and I sat down; then one by one they gathered 
 round; they fingered the cloth of my jacket and skirt; they fingered 
 the trimming of my hat, pulled at my gloves, pinched the box in my 
 lap and tried to take off my jacket. I resisted that, but opened it 
 and threw it back; they fingered the silk of my waist and a string of 
 beads I was wearing, talking like magpies all the while. 
 
 Their hands were small, the fingers loaded with rings, the arms 
 with bracelets and around their open throats were necklaces galore. 
 Their loose gowns were made of soft silk and pretty slippers covered 
 their stockingless feet. I gave the one nearest me the box of sweets. 
 They fell upon it like greedy children; when it was nearly empty 
 they began snatching and with shrieks of laughter chased each other 
 about the room for the last pieces. 
 
 A guitar was standing against the wall; I held it out to each in 
 turn but only a shake of the head rewarded me. The sweetmeats 
 gone and their curiosity about my dress satisfied, they went back list- 
 lessly to their cushions and divans and I went to the door which little 
 Africa opened for me. 
 
 The best part of all the experience that you did not share, Dear 
 Heart, was the telling it to you, and my visit to the harem was no 
 exception. 
 
 We soon exhausted the town and our thoughts turned to the 
 country. There was no railroad, no wagon road, no wheeled vehicle 
 of any kind but always in front of our hotel any number of boys with 
 
 Page Two Hundred Forty-live 
 
iininiiiiiiiiiiiiniiinniiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiMniiiiiniiiiiiniiiiiniiiiiiiiHiiimiiiniiiiiinniiiiiniiiiiiiitiiiiiiitiiiinniHniirMitiMnniuinMiiiiniiiiiiiiniiniiiiMiinniniiniiiiiiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiMiiiiiiiiiiimininiiiiiitiiniiiiuiiiHiriiHnniiiiMiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiininiiiMiiiiiiiimuinniiiiNiiiiiMiiiiiirnininiHiniiiiniinnniiiniiininitiiuiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiii^ 
 
 donkeys and ponies for hire; and two of the latter Tewfik engaged 
 for us. Instead of saddles, large, flat seats thickly padded were 
 tightly strapped to the little horses' backs; with a boy at the head of 
 each and Tewfik walking at my side, we started. 
 
 The low hills back of the City were green and the country culti- 
 vated and beautiful. We had ridden only a few miles when we 
 reached a grove where nightingales were singing delightfully; we 
 listened for a long time then rode on along the seashore towards Fez, 
 the capital, thirty miles away where the Sultan was then residing; we 
 were on the line of communication between the Palace and Govern- 
 ment buildings in Tangier, and we met and were passed by army 
 Officers in beautiful uniforms and Moors in fez and rich Oriental 
 dress; they were all mounted on handsome horses and added greatly 
 to our entertainment. 
 
 We saw many men in ordinary dress of white bournous and 
 turban, well mounted and carrying guns with long, slender barrels; 
 some were beautifully inlaid; others of chiselled brass or steel. You 
 stopped several and were allowed to examine the guns, but none 
 wanted to sell. Tewfik said you could buy them in town but they 
 were very dear, and when I asked whatever you would do with a gun, 
 you answered with a smile, "Give it to a friend." 
 
 Twelve miles from Tangier we came to a wooded point jutting 
 out in the water where wealthy citizens had charming homes. From 
 there we turned back; but we had enjoyed the ride so much, that 
 next day when we saw the storm signals still up we repeated it; 
 the nightingales were always singing in the grove and we saw many 
 picturesque and interesting people. As we neared the outskirts of 
 the city on our return, crossing our path at right angles we saw fully 
 twenty horsemen riding rapidly; they all had long barreled guns 
 which they twirled around their heads and discharged in the air. Their 
 proximity and the noise of the firearms were terrifying but Tewfik 
 laughed and said it was a wedding procession and the riders were 
 friends of the groom frightening away evil spirits from the new 
 household; that the marriage would take place that evening and he 
 would find out where. 
 
 After dinner we found Tewfik waiting with his two lanterns. 
 We had a long walk through dark streets lighted only by our two 
 lanterns and then came upon a singular scene. A large gathering of 
 white clad Moors sitting cross legged on the pavement of the street, 
 each with a lantern that lighted up the black face under the white 
 turban. They glowered at me as we made our way to an open space 
 and sat down on fiber cushions that Tewfik had brought. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Forty-six 
 
nniiiiiiiinMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiHiiiMiiiiiiHiiiiiMiiniHiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiitiniiniiiiiiiiiiMiiininimiiiiiiiiniiiiniiiniriiuininiiiiiMiniii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 «iiiiiiiiniiiinMnMiiiiiniiniiniiiiiiiiiniiiiniiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiniuuiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiii»iinnmHniiiiiiinimiiiiirMUiinniiiiiiininnnimiiiiiniiiinitiiiiiiMiMiiniiiiiiiin^ 
 
 After a wearisome wait a gaily caparisoned donkey carrying a 
 large box with small openings near the top and draped with bright 
 colored silk was led to the house in front of us. Two Moors carried 
 the box in and when they brought it out and fastened it to the 
 donkey's back, it contained the bride. Then came the presents. An 
 African slave, and trays loaded with household articles and gaudy 
 cheap -looking ornamental pieces carried by boys in long skirts and 
 scarlet jackets. 
 
 When the donkey was led away two Moors walked on each side 
 of the bride — her father and brothers, Tewfik said. Then the white 
 figures rose from the street and with the dancing lanterns, and an 
 occasional man bearing on his head a candelabrum holding eight 
 candles, the singular and picturesque procession moved along. 
 
 We followed it to the Mosque. A devout looking man in rich 
 vestments stood at the door. He pronounced some words in Arabic 
 that Tewfik said was the religious part of the ceremony; then the 
 bride was taken to the house of the husband she had never seen and 
 the wedding was over. 
 
 We asked Tewfik if the boxed in bride was the first wife. He 
 said, "No, she is the fourth and he can't have any more because the 
 law wont let him ; but he can have a large harem if he's got plenty 
 of money." 
 
 The following morning when we walked to the pier, storm 
 signals had disappeared. A small steamer that rolled and pitched and 
 made me horribly seasick carried us to Cadiz and we went leisurely 
 through Spain. 
 
 We spent a week in Seville, renewing our acquaintance with the 
 charming patios; saw the beautiful Palace and grounds of the Duke 
 of Montpensier and many interesting things debarred us on our 
 former visit during Holy Week. 
 
 At the Alhambra we had two delightful weeks, and the charm of 
 that romantic place seemed to increase with every visit. In April 
 days of four separate years we heard the music of the murmuring 
 fountains, and the nightingales singing in the grove; saw the roses 
 in their bloom and wandered through the glorious Courts and Halls 
 of the Palace. 
 
 On one of our visits, coming down the hillside where we had gone 
 for a view from the tallest of the "ruddy towers" we passed near a 
 low wall on which a half dozen little girls were sitting. They all had 
 flowers in their hands and flowers pinned in their hair. They made a 
 very pretty picture and we stopped to admire them. While we looked 
 
 Page Two Hundred Forty-seven 
 
•niiiiiiiniiiiitniiiiimiiimnMiiiiiiiiinMiiniiinMniiiiiniiiiitriiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiMimimiiiiiiiiiiitiHiiiiiiiniiiinniiiiiiiininHiiiniiiiniiiiiniiiniiiiiiinntiit^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 fiiiiiiiiiiiiii imiiiiiiiinnuiniMiniiiiniininiMinnMiiiiiunniiiiiiiiimuHiiiiinniinmiunriiiiniiiniiMMiininniininiiiutniiiiHiinniiiMiiiniininiiiiHiniiiiiiiiiniiinHiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiir 
 
 two boys came swaggering along each carrying a piece of red stuff 
 that looked like a bit of worn out under clothing; they were talking 
 with the girls when in bounded a boy with a pair of horns fastened 
 to his forehead. 
 
 "We are evidently going to see a bull fight," you said, as we both 
 began to laugh. 
 
 The bull lowered his head and lunged at the boys who waved 
 their strips of red and jumped this way and that in a very lively 
 manner. After some time of this play the Toreador came with a bit 
 of the same old red garment in one hand, and a long, thin piece of 
 wood in the other hand. He and the bull had a long tussle then by a 
 successful thrust he dehorned the bull, that at once fell lifeless to the 
 ground. The little girls showered all their flowers on the brave 
 Toreador, even those pinned to their hair. 
 
 We went to Madrid and from there to Biarritz that delightful 
 French watering place of which the Empress Eugenia was so fond; 
 with fine hotels, casinos and luxurious villas. The little, old fishing 
 village — ^the original Biarritz — we found very quaint and interesting. 
 
 We stopped at Lourdes, in the midst of a romantic-looking 
 country. The statue of the Virgin, "Our Lady of Lourdes," above 
 the grotto, the votive offerings, and the walls hidden by piles of 
 crutches left by the multitude of pilgrims who, cured by faith, had no 
 further need of them, was really impressive. 
 
 We drove through the beautiful valley of the Cauterets, spent 
 some time in Paris and June 19, 1904, sailed from Cherbourg for 
 New York. 
 
 We swung around our elliptical circle reaching San Francisco 
 6y way of Southern California in December. We spent the early 
 summer of 1905 in our old home and in August sailed on the S. S. 
 Republic for Liverpool. 
 
 We went to Dumfries, saw the house where Burns lived and 
 died, and talked with his granddaughter and great granddaughter; 
 kindly, cheerful bodies in very plain surroundings. In the Globe 
 Hotel we saw Burn's chair, his pipes and punch bowl. 
 
 The country between Dumfries and Glasgow was full of interest 
 for us. We passed through the bonny Maxwellton braes where 
 Annie Laurie lived. She of the pretty Scotch song of which you 
 were so fond; and up in the rugged hills was Craigenputtock where 
 Carlyle and his wife spent many years. To that place Emerson went 
 to visit carlyle, and wrote, "There among the unfrequented hills the 
 lonely scholar nourishes his mighty heart," and there (before she had 
 
 Page Two Hundred Forty-eight 
 
*iitriiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinniiri(iMtiiiiiiiiiiii niiniiiiiiniiniiiiiiiininininiiiiiiiimiiiiiiimiiii iiiiiiiiiniiniuiiirndiiiitiiiiiMiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitmiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiinn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 "'■"■■■o" iiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinii II iiiiitiitniiimiiiiiiimuiiiimiiiiiiiiiiniiiiuimiiiniiiiiniiiiiiiiiiitiimiimiHiiniiuiiiiiimniiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiMUiiiiinii 
 
 mastered the art) his adorable wife, Jenny Welch Carlyle, sat up 
 many times until three o'clock in the morning waiting for her bread 
 to rise and be ready for the oven. 
 
 From Glasgow to Grennock and the river-like Crinnan Canal 
 ten miles in length with ten locks between most of which we walked 
 with bare-footed children, their little hands full of pink heather that 
 they eagerly exchanged for pennies. What queer little beings they 
 were! and how their queer speech and sayings amused us. The scen- 
 ery was very pretty with glades of delicious wildness and lovely homes 
 scattered among the heathery hills. 
 
 From Crinnan — the end of the canal — a larger boat carried us 
 into the almost land-locked harbor of Oban. With a background of 
 lofty mountains, wooded hills dotted with pretty villas rising from the 
 circular bay, yachts on the water, men in Highland dress on the street, 
 the music of an occasional bagpipe, and animation everywhere, Oban 
 was to us a most delightful Highland town. 
 
 The next day, between a chain of lovely islands, and the main- 
 land of hills, some low and some lofty, with feathery cascades tumb- 
 ling down between banks of heather, we went from Oban to Banavie 
 where we spent the night. Directly opposite our hotel loomed Ben 
 Nevis, a mountain the Scotch speak of with pride. It is picturesque 
 but as a mountain to be proud of! Well! the least said the better! 
 
 The scenery in the Caledonian Canal was fine, rugged and in- 
 teresting. Small, shaggy Highland cattle and bands of sheep; lone 
 sheilings on the misty, heathery mountains, and far apart, lonely 
 shepherds in long cloaks leaning on their crooks to watch the passing 
 boat; always a collie dog beside them that greeted us with a bark. 
 It was a beautiful day — the first without rain for six weeks the Cap- 
 tain told us — and very happy and very thankful, we reached the rose- 
 red town of Inverness, the Capital of the Highlands. 
 
 We left Inverness by the Plighland railroad running through 
 the Grampian hills; beautiful and picturesque; often wild where 
 streams dashed with foam and roar between deep, rocky banks. We 
 stopped at Perth, Dundee, Aberdeen and St. Andrews. Oh those 
 Scotch towns! how delightful and interesting they were! and the 
 people so friendly and kindly. Each place was marked by some little 
 incident that we remembered with pleasure. 
 
 The famous golf links at St. Andrews stretch along the sea 
 shore for a mile and a half. The day we were there a game was on 
 between two players of note with a large number of people looking 
 on. The strokes those men made were wonderful! We followed full 
 
 Page Two Hundred Forty-nine 
 
'■niiiit iiniiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiritiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiii niiiniimiiriiiiiriiiiiiiuiiiiniiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitniMiiiiiiiHHiiiinniniiiinHiMiiiuinniiiininMiiiniiiiniiiiiiiiininiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirimiitiiiiiiiiMiitMiHniNiiiiniiiiiiiininrinniiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniii^ 
 
 of interest, when suddenly, from an almost cloudless sky came a heavy 
 shower of rain. The game went on as did many of the spectators, but 
 we hurried to the nearest shelter and did not see the finish. 
 
 From St. Andrews to ever delightful Edinburgh. When the 
 weather was fine we always went at sundown to the Castle to see the 
 changes of guard and hear the bagpipes. One day we saw a group 
 of Officers and men at the angle of a wall where we knew a small 
 cemetery was located, with marble slabs in memory of pet regimental 
 dogs; and there the interment was taking place of the Colonel's pet, 
 and a really sorrowful man the Colonel seemed to be. As we turned 
 away we talked of Sir Walter Scott declining an invitation to dinner 
 because of the loss of a dear friend — one of his beloved hounds. 
 
 We went to London and to Paris, and one day you read that the 
 vintage season had commenced in the champagne region and sug- 
 gested that as we had never seen the Rheims Cathedral it would be 
 well to do so at that time, and also see something of the grape gather- 
 ing; so we went to Rheims, one of those delightful old-time cities so 
 common in Europe. Broad tree-lined streets with the upper storys 
 of houses projecting over the sidewalk, forming arcades, where after- 
 noons and evenings cafes filled all their space with chairs and tables; 
 and there people sat by the hour sipping absinthe, eau sucre or coffee, 
 and eating tiny cakes. 
 
 A delightful old square built around with warehouses, bazaars, 
 shops and private residences; charming parks and boulevards on 
 which the wealthy had their homes. Many picturesque old houses — 
 one most remarkable, "The House of the Musicians;" across the 
 facade stretched a band of large, painted figures playing upon the 
 musical instruments of their day. 
 
 A monument of past ages, "The Roman Porte de Mars;" a 
 triple triumphal arch, with fluted, time-worn Corinthian columns ; and 
 among the near-by flowers, and shrubbery, a bed of tall, graceful 
 papyrus plants rose from a pool of water. Rows and rows of attract- 
 ive homes, occupied by working people, with pots of bright flowers 
 on the window sills; for Rheims in addition to being a center of the 
 trade in champagne had many factories where woolen and cotton 
 goods were made. 
 
 The pleasant, old city sheltered a prosperous, happy and con- 
 tented people enjoying their work and recreation. Dark-eyed, bright- 
 faced children romped through the streets and all was life and anima- 
 tion. 
 
 In the city's very heart the Cathedral; one of the noblest, most 
 
 Page Two Hundred Fifty 
 
'iMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiitMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiMiiimniiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiii i iiiiniiiiiiniiiiniiiiiiiiiiiniiiiuiiiiiiiiiimi iiii iiiiinin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 '■>>■■>■■' iiiiniriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiii Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiitiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiJiiiiiiiiiitiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 magnificent Gothic Cathedrals in all the World with a perfectly 
 amazing and bewildering wealth of decoration. In the deeply re" 
 cessed portals of the Western front, rows of statues of Saints, 
 Apostles and Kings, one row above another, and over the central 
 portal a glorious rose window that with galleries and towers and 
 lace-like detail, completed the exquisite facade. On every side of the 
 grand, old Cathedral statues, single and in groups, with figures of 
 animals and scenes illustrating Bible history or some bit of the 
 secular lore of France. Flying buttresses, spires and turrets con- 
 nected by graceful, airy galleries of open stone work, while far out 
 from the walls gargoyles thrust their grotesque heads. 
 
 In the vast interior, "the color of a hundred gardens" gleamed 
 from the lovely old stained glass windows; statues looked out from 
 their niches; wreaths of foliage mingled with human and fantastic 
 figures about the capitals of the massive octagonal columns ; the choir 
 stalls of oak were beautifully carved; medallions of scriptural and 
 historical pictures in stone, were framed in a tracery of rose and lily 
 and the running vine of the grape; there was a 14th century organ 
 and the aisles were hung with old, old tapestries. 
 
 And what brilliant scenes had been enacted there! where for 
 centuries the French Kings were crowned and where that world- 
 famous coronation took place in which Joan of Arc played so roman- 
 tic a part. Joan of Arc whose equestrian statue stands in front of 
 the Cathedral as though on guard! 
 
 One day we stood among the wealth of carving on the roof! 
 among the airy galleries, the delicate pinnacles and turrets ; we walked 
 around the grand towers admiring the work upon them, and on the 
 uppermost balustrade studied the faces of the elfish little seated 
 figures that looked over the City. 
 
 From time to time during the World War the Germans made a 
 target of the Rheims Cathedral! As reverses on the Western front 
 became more frequent they took revenge by shelling the City. 
 
 Then came a day when it pleased the Vandals to martyr Rheims ! 
 Not a house left standing ! 
 
 "No homes, no flowers are there. 
 Nor any trees, or little running feet;" 
 
 and the glorious Cathedral, that for ages to come, should have been 
 the heritage of every one who loved the old and the beautiful, was 
 reduced to ruin; destroyed in such utter wickedness and wantonness, 
 that the perpetrators of the outrage have won for themselves the 
 scorn of the civilized World! 
 
 Page Two Hundred Fifty-one 
 
«iniiiiiiiiiiniiiiininiiiiiuiiiiiiiHriiiniiiiniiiininiiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiimiiiinmiNiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuniiiiiiiiniiniiiiiiHiiniMiiiiniiiniiniiiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 itiiitininiiiiiuiiiHmiiniiniiiMiiiiiiiiiiiuinnnniiiiMniuuinninniiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiniiiiiniiiiiiiiiinimiininiiHininiiiiiniiiiiHuiiniiHininiininiiHiiiMiiniininM 
 
 One red letter day during our stay in Rheims we drove to Eper- 
 nay, fifteen miles away, over a smooth road with trees arching over- 
 head. The country was charming. Vineyards and orchards, grain 
 fields and pastures where a few cattle, and many sheep grazed. In 
 hill and valley vineyards, the grape harvest was going on. Only at 
 short intervals were we out of the sound of talk, laughter and bits of 
 song, and the sight of picturesque groups of peasants among the 
 russet, red and orange leaves ; the men and boys in blue smock-frocks, 
 the women and girls in blue aprons that covered them completely; 
 the old women wore white-frilled caps, the younger women and girls 
 broad-brimmed hats. Every one carried a basket, and large shears, 
 or knives with curved blades used for the cutting. The vines were 
 dwarfed and stocky; the clusters small; the grapes small, black and 
 very sweet. 
 
 At Epernay we were in the Valley of the Marne, narrow at that 
 point but very pretty. The streets of the toM^n were narrow with 
 many picturesque twists and turns. In a delightful suburb called 
 "La Folic" the rich wine merchants had their lovely villas. 
 
 Mme. Pommery's wine cellar at Rheims was undergoing repairs 
 and visitors were not admitted so we were glad to go through the 
 cellar of Moet et Chandon at Epernay. Down steep stairs seventy- 
 five feet underground we came to the great cellar containing 7,000,000 
 bottles of champagne. Miles and miles of white galleries hewn from 
 the chalk rock and long, dim corridors terminating in caves where the 
 wine was stored, — over the arched entrance, the name of the city to 
 which the wine would be consigned, and we were rather pleased to 
 see San Francisco's goodly share. 
 
 In the caves, men clad in white, looking in the dim light like 
 sprites, were at work. The slanting bottles stood in racks, and the 
 sprites simply gave them a little shake to disturb the sediment, and 
 then replaced them. 
 
 It was late in the day when we returned to Rheims but work in 
 the vineyards was still going on. The weather had been perfect; 
 tomorrow rain might come, and as many grapes as possible must be 
 gathered. 
 
 The next afternoon we took a train for Chalous-sur-Marne and 
 went to the Marne Hotel. Access to the rooms was had through an 
 unattractive court by an unattractive staircase. "Third or fourth 
 class," I whispered to you as we followed a boy to the room assigned 
 us, where a femme de chamhre had already brought a jug of hot 
 water and a carafe of drinking water. Madame herself came to see 
 
 Page Two Hundred Fifty-two 
 
iiiiiniiiinniiiMHininniiiiiinniiiiinuiiinMiiiinirnrniinintiriniiiiiiuiiiiHmuiiiiMiimrniMiiiniinMiimMiniininitnninniiniiiiiMiiiiirmiiniiinHMiiiininiiiiiiiiHiiuii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iniuiiiiiiiiMiiiiiinniiniinniniiiuiinMHniiiuMniiiiuMinnniimiMiniinniiiiimHiiiiiiiimiiininiiinimiiiiiiiiiiininiiniiiiiiiMiiiiiinniiiiriHniiniiMHiniininHMiiiiiriniiii 
 
 if anything was needed, but not before I had taken in the surprise of 
 the room. Over the bed a canopy of figured satin with coverlid of 
 the same; easy chairs upholstered in satin; at the windows, lace and 
 damask silk curtains; fine linen towels. 
 
 Our dinner was delicious and perfect in every way. The host 
 himself brought the small bottle of chateau wine you had ordered, 
 and looked carefully over the table. It was one of those delightful 
 Hotels found nowhere in such perfection as in France where the 
 Host and Hostess supervise every detail of the house. 
 
 At Chalons, the Marne was crossed by a fine stone bridge over 
 which we walked next morning. The town had cotton, linen and 
 woolen factories and the largest wine cellar in the World with fifteen 
 miles of galleries. 
 
 At my suggestion we stopped at Bar-le-Duc. I wanted to see 
 the home of that delectable confiture put up in the dainty glass pots. 
 The windows and shops were full of it and the quaint, old town stood 
 in the midst of fields devoted to the cultivation of red and white 
 currants and gooseberries. In a narrow side street called the Cafe 
 des Oiseaux we saw a wonderful collection of stuffed birds. 
 
 From Bar-le-Duc we went to Nancy, a bright, gay, beautiful 
 city with gushing fountains, parks, statues, squares built around 
 with handsome structures, attractive shops that displayed exquisite 
 embroideries, glassware and pottery of unique and artistic design — all 
 specialties of the town. A magnificent Triumphal Arch at the 
 entrance to a lovely park had three large gates with Corinthian 
 columns supporting a group of statuary and single figures — all de- 
 stroyed later by German airplanes. 
 
 Ouly thirty miles away was Chateau Thierry where at the most 
 critical time of the World War, our dear, brave American boys made 
 their breasts the barrier that stemmed the German tide flowing 
 towards Paris. 
 
 From Nancy we returned to Paris and in November were loiter- 
 ing in Marseilles on our way to Nice for the winter. Scanning one 
 day the long sailing list of ships and steamers going to scattered 
 ports of the World, you turned to me and asked, 
 
 "How would you like to go to Egypt?" 
 
 "Beyond and above anything and everything," I answered. 
 
 "I could not afford to take you up the Nile on a dahabeeah," you 
 continued, "but the Tombs and Temples, the country and people 
 would look the same. A few days later, November tenth, we sailed 
 
 Page Two Hundred Fifty-three 
 
itniiiMiiiiiiuiiniHHiiiiiiiiniuminiiiniiniiiiiiinninnuiiHuiuiiiiiiiriiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiirHMiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiniinMiiniiiiiiiiiniiiiiiHiMiiiniininMHniniininiiMuiui^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiHuniiuiuiHiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiirHuiiiiniMiiniiiiiiiiiMiiiiniinininiiiiiiinmiiniiiimmiiiiiiiiiiiHniiiiiiiiiiniHiiiniiriiiiiuiniuininHiiniiniiMininiiniiiiiiiiniMiininiHiii^ 
 
 from Marseilles for Port Said on the P. and O. steamer Mooltan 
 bound for India; a 10,000-ton ship on her first voyage. 
 
 The crew were Lascars, and so picturesque! Bare-footed, bare- 
 armed with blue blouses, red turbans and rings in their ears. 
 
 Of the 500 first-class passengers a great majority were Army 
 Officers and Officials in Government employ, with their families, 
 going back to work after their vacation. 
 
 A passenger that attracted much attention was an East Indian 
 Prince dressed in white corded silk with gold trimming, always sur- 
 rounded by a train of attendants. 
 
 The large passenger list necessitated the serving of two dinners. 
 The first at six o'clock which we chose, the second, set for seven- 
 thirty, but the first table consumed so much time that it was generally 
 eight o'clock before the seats at the second table were filled, and a 
 beautiful sight it was to see the English ladies in full dress, go down 
 the companion way. We had our regular places at dinner but for 
 breakfast and lunch sat wherever we liked. In that way we met a 
 large number of pleasant people. 
 
 Going out after dinner the third day of our voyage we found 
 those already on deck, looking intently at a tiny speck of light near 
 the horizon and speculating what it could be, as the night was dark 
 without moon, or star. The Captain chanced to pass and told us the 
 light came from the volcano of Stromboli sixty miles away. Our 
 cabin was on the seaward side and we waited up until near midnight, 
 watching the slow growth of the tiny speck; then abreast of the 
 volcano we saw the weird, awe inspiring sight of a broad stream of 
 molten lava flowing down the mountain side into the sea. 
 
 The following afternoon the Mooltan ran alongside her pier at 
 the entrance to the Suez Canal and we were soon ashore in Port Said 
 exploring the town. 
 
 The poor native women of the lower class were a sorry lot, in 
 coarse, clumsy garments, their faces hidden behind a most hideous 
 contrivance. A black band was fastened around the forehead, a 
 space left for the eyes and a narrow, heavy, black veil held in place 
 by a brass clamp fitting over the upper part of the nose. 
 
 The native men of the same class wore long skirts of sleazy 
 material that flopped around their legs in a most ungainly way when 
 they walked. 
 
 The only attractive things we saw in the shop windows were 
 ostrich feathers — beauties, a half, to three-quarters of a yard in 
 length; price from two to three dollars each. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Fifty-four 
 
•miniiiniiiiiiniiiiimiiiiiiiMnininniiniiMtniinnininiitiiniiiiiiniiiiniiMiiiniHiiiNiMiimiininiiiniiuiiiiininiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiMiiniiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiniiiiinniiiiiiiiiMiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 •miiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiit iniuiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 "Oh, I must have a white one and a black one," I exclaimed, but 
 took your advice not to buy until we returned to Port Said. Alas! 
 when we returned, our train was late ; we were obliged to go direct to 
 the steamer and I lost my ostrich feathers. 
 
 We spent the night at the Savoy Hotel one short block from 
 the Mooltan's pier. The steamer was to sail early next morning and 
 at sound of her whistle we went out on our balcony. 
 
 At Port Said ships and passengers for India make preparations 
 for hot weather and the Mooltan was a very pretty sight as she 
 steamed away, bright awnings fluttering in the light breeze and the 
 decks thronged with men and women in light attire. We saw the 
 festive looking craft once again, when one hour after leaving Port 
 Said our train overtook and passed her. 
 
 The six hours' journey to Cairo was full of interest. The vege- 
 tation, the people, the strings of camels, their heads outstretched, 
 their backs loaded, and a Bedouin perched on top or walking along- 
 side; and then, the first dim sight of the Pyramids — ^what a thrill 
 they gave! and how eagerly we watched until they became distinct, 
 and at the journey's end, our drive through the crowded, animated 
 streets to Shepheards, that most fascinating of all hotels. 
 
 We fell easily into the universal habit of taking a cab whenever 
 we left the hotel. In the middle of the day the heat was intense and 
 at all hours, if we stepped outside the garden wall we were complete- 
 ly hemmed in by dragomen, donkey boys, venders of curios and 
 beggars. 
 
 Our only fatiguing hours were those spent in the wonderful 
 Museum, where even the overmastering interest of the invaluable 
 collection could not ward off weariness of the flesh. As I write these 
 hnes memory calls up the image of a man called "The Village Chief;" 
 a statue carved in wood over 4,000 years ago. The expression was 
 startlingty lifelike and the eyes stared at us so intently that the 
 figure drew us as a magnet to look upon it again and again, and gave 
 a creepy feeling that a living human being must dwell within that 
 wooden form. 
 
 Across the River, eight miles away, over a road delightfully 
 shaded by grand, old lebbek trees to the border of the desert, and 
 those stupendous Pyramids, 
 
 "That wedge like cleave the desert air," 
 
 we made many excursions. We had no desire to climb the sum- 
 mits or to penetrate within the massive tombs; we were content 
 
 Page Two Hundred Fifty-five 
 
ninuiriiinniiiiinninniiiiiMiiiiiirniHiinniiniimiMiiiiirrHniiiiiiiniiiiiiimiiiiiitiiHriiiiiiiiiiiHMniiiimnMinnrnHmiiniiinHiiiiiimiiiiiiiinmiiiiiiMiiiiiiiMinii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiiiiiininiininmiiiiiitiiinrniunnnniiiiniiiniiinjiNninriiiiiiniiiiiiiiininiiiiiiiriiiminiiiniiiiiMiiininiiuiiiinniiMiiiuiiniinniiuuiininiiniiiiininiiiiiHiunnn 
 
 to look and to marvel; then on, three-quarters of a mile through the 
 desert sand to the Great Sphinx of Gizeh, the guardian of Tombs and 
 Temples. 
 
 Hewn out of the rock, colossal in size, a human head on the 
 body of a lion, the question of its age a riddle, the inscrutable Sphinx 
 with a benign expression on the damaged, noseless face, the sad, 
 wide-open, patient eyes gazing dreamily over the shifting sands, was 
 majestic in its eternal loneliness! 
 
 Our feeling of awe, however, was quickly turned into vexation 
 and indignation by Bedouin guides, peddlers, beggars and photog- 
 raphers. Of the pests the photographers were the worst — one who 
 spoke English fluently was fiendish, wanting to take our pictures; 
 telling us that we would always be sorry if we neglected to have our 
 photos taken mounted on camels with the e-ter-nal Sphinx in the 
 background. Over and over again went that maddening rigmarole. 
 The wretch had a long pole with a cleft, in which he placed pictures 
 of tourists on camels and thrust them before our eyes that we might 
 see the spe-ci-mens of his work. 
 
 When we returned to the Pyramids and dismounted, you said, 
 "No more dromedary for me unless I can reach my seat and leave 
 it by a ladder," and after that you rode a donkey while I stuck to the 
 "ship of the desert." 
 
 Going to the Citadel — a huge fortress on a hill — for the lovely 
 view at sunset was always a pleasure. The slender, graceful minarets 
 and sun-lit domes of the many hundred mosques, groves and avenues 
 of delightful verdure, the broad, shining River, the Pyramids out- 
 lined against a violet sky, and beyond, stretching on and on, glorilfied 
 by a marvelous light, the great Libyan desert into which the sun 
 seemed to sink. 
 
 "A running sais before a rapidly driven carriage is one of the 
 prettiest sights in Cairo," Charles Dudley Warner wrote. It was a 
 common sight to us in which we took keen delight. Driving in the 
 pleasantly shaded Shoobra Avenue in the afternoon, or crossing the 
 great Nile bridge to the gardens of the Ghezirah Palace we always 
 saw one or two carriages preceded by a running sais. We soon got 
 to know the equipage of the Khedive's household, of the Royal 
 harem with its white veiled occupants, that of an English dignitary 
 with his three young children, and every afternoon the American 
 Consul came for tea on the terrace at Shepheards, dashing up to the 
 entrance gate in a stylish cart, driving a splendid black horse and 
 
 Page Two Hundred Fifly-six 
 
'iiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiniiniiiniiiHnMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinriiiiiiniiiiuiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiniiimiiiiniiiiMriiniiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiininniiiiiiniiiiitiiiiiinmiiiniii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 nniHiMJiMniiiMiiuiinHiiiijMiiiHiiiHiuHniiinriiiiNiMiiiiiiiHninnnnininiiniriimiMiuiiiiiniiiiiiinniiininiiniiiinnniiiinuniininniniiiiMuniniiiHiiiuinniiniuiiiiiiiiiunnimniium 
 
 preceded by a running sais who might have posed for Warner's 
 word picture. 
 
 "A slender, handsome Nubian, black as ebony, brilliantly dressed, 
 graceful, running with perfect ease for hours. In red tarboosh with 
 long tassel, silk and gold embroidered vest and jacket, colored girdle 
 with knotted ends hanging at side, short silk trousers, bare legs and 
 long staff gold tipped in his hand; graceful as Antinuous. A most 
 elegant appendage to a fashionable turn out." 
 
 To show how even in Egypt, customs change, while we saw 
 these "elegant appendages" commonly, friends that visited Cairo 
 two years later rarely saw a running sais. 
 
 Another very pretty sight in Cairo was seeing a fleet of feluccas 
 — sail boats with tall, tapering masts — collected in the river waiting 
 for the draw of the Nile bridge to open; then like birds, spreading 
 their white wings and going swiftly up the stream against a strong 
 current, driven by the North wind from the sea. 
 
 The terrace at Shepheards was a most fascinating and interesting 
 place. Inside the gate dragomen, black, white and yellow; some in 
 flowing trousers, satin vests and immense turbans, snake charmers, 
 fire eaters, flower venders selling a dozen beautiful "la France" roses 
 for a coin equivalent to a nickel, and other flowers as cheap. 
 
 Outside the gate more dragomen — some in rags and tatters, 
 some gorgeously clad, boys with small, close-clipped white donkeys 
 under red saddles, around their necks strings of blue beads or silver 
 necklaces, cabs, dealers in curios and relics calling out their wares in 
 loud voices, and passing along the great highway in a steady stream, 
 camels laden with building stone slung in net-work sacks, camels and 
 donkeys laden with dates, poultry and all kinds of market com- 
 modities, natives on foot turbanned and gowned, natives on donkeys 
 with two or three children in front of them, dogs without number 
 and curious, amusing sights without end. 
 
 The immense bazaars were full of tempting things, from beauti- 
 ful rugs and embroideries and rich stuff's of silk (that were sold by 
 weight) to the most trifling trinkets and slippers galore, red and 
 yellow. At the entrance to the bazaars the beggars lay in wait; 
 they were numerous, persistent and repulsive; none so repulsive as 
 the women holding in their arms infants with sore eyes over which 
 flies crawled and settled. It was the mother's fixed belief that the 
 flies averted the "evil eye" so she never brushed them away. Babies 
 that could sit up were carried on the mother's shoulders astride but 
 
 Page Two Hundred Fifty-seven 
 
«iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii MiiiininininiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniiitiiiiiiiimiimiiiiimiHiiiiiiiiiiniiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiininiitMniininminntiuiiniiiiiniiiimiintiiiiiinmiHiitiiiuiiiiitiiiin 
 
 MEMORIES 
 
 — SOME OF MANY 
 
 "1IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiu 
 
 IN CAIRO 
 
 even they did not put up a fight against 
 the hungry flies that crawled around the 
 gummy eyes. 
 
 On market day "the Muski," the 
 chief thoroughfare of Cairo roofed over 
 with cane or palms, was full of strange 
 sights and sounds and vivid color. Money 
 changers rattling their coin, Bedouins 
 from the desert, English soldiers in scar- 
 let coats, fortune tellers, water carriers 
 clashing a paid of cymbals and pouring 
 water for the thirsty into brass cups from 
 boar skins on their shoulders, merchants 
 in Oriental dress going to their offices on 
 gaily caparisoned donkeys, men in long 
 gowns and turbans, loaded camels, veiled 
 
 women, scribes with ink-horns and pens of reed stuck in their belts, 
 
 and so forth, and so forth. 
 
 Many of the Mosques with shining domes and tall, graceful 
 minarets were very beautiful. Tickets of admission were obtained at 
 trifling cost and away from glare of sun and noise of street, the cool, 
 marble-walled interiors, with beautiful hanging lamps and often rich 
 rugs upon the floors, we found very restful. We often planned to be 
 near the Mosques at the set of sun — then we saw the Muezzins in the 
 minarets above and heard their voices calling the faithful to prayer; 
 and very musical many voices were. 
 
 The immense court of the University during school hours was 
 remarkable. Teachers, and hundreds of Egyptian boys sitting cross- 
 legged on the floor, with metal tablets before them, committing the 
 Koran to memory, their bodies swaying back and forth, all repeating 
 the same words over and over again, producing a most peculiar 
 sound. 
 
 We enjoyed the shady paths of the delightful Ezbekiyeh Gar- 
 dens where a military band played every afternoon, and where we saw 
 strange and interesting vegetation. 
 
 After two very happy and very busy weeks we took a brilliantly 
 lighted corridor train for a night journey to Luxor. Our compart- 
 ment was really elegant; in color all white and gold, ^^dth two small 
 brass beds, large plate glass windows curtained in rich silk, brass 
 racks of Oriental design for hand-bags, and adjoining the compart- 
 ment a washroom. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Fifty-eight 
 
miniriiiiiiiiiiMiMriiiiiiiiiiiiiniHiniMiuniiMiMiuMiHiniiinHntiiniiniiinniiiiiNnniiiiiiniininiiiniiniiiiiiiininiiniirininiiiiiitiiiniiiiiiiiniiiiMiiHiMniimiimnm^^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 tiiiiiiiHiiiininiinniiniiiMMMiiniMnuniiiiiMniuMiMiMiiiiiinininimniHiiiMiiimiiiiniiiininnNriiniiiniiiiiHininnniiiiniiiinniniiiiiiniiirniiiiiiHiinininiiiiniiiiiniiiH 
 
 The Luxor Hotel was perfectly charming. A garden full of 
 blooming tropical plants divided by an avenue of splendid palm trees 
 that extended to the river bank where a large platform had been 
 built; and how we did enjoy that platform! 
 
 There we sat and watched the slow-flowing, dignified stream of 
 the Nile pass on its way ; there we saw the sun go down in gorgeous- 
 ness behind the rose-colored, limestone mountains of the desert; there 
 we went at night to gaze upon the radiant firmament. Such a 
 crescent moon, such stars and planets as gemmed the unfathomed 
 blue in that clear, dry air! so large, so luminous and seeming so near! 
 how brilliant, how wonderful, how glorious they were! 
 
 A stones throw from our Hotel was the Temple of Luxor. At 
 the magnificent entrance one beautifully sculptured monolith of red 
 granite eighty feet in height, and two statues of twenty-two feet 
 were still standing. The ruin was of great dimensions, many columns 
 erect, but all enjoyment in seeing and walking about was destroyed 
 by pestering dragomen. 
 
 Tourist travel to "Upper Egypt" was just beginning and we 
 were surrounded by men clamoring to be employed. In self defense 
 you engaged one Abdallah who proved to be a garrulous old nuisance 
 and it took many sharp words to make him understand that we pre- 
 ferred to take facts and figures from Baedeker. The only purpose 
 he served was protecting us from other hungry dragomen. 
 
 Through an avenue, two miles in length, lined on both sides by 
 Sphinxes of enormous size all badly mutilated and many headless, we 
 drove to Karnak, — to those sublime ruins, described by a traveller 
 and writer as: "The massive, extensive, noble, beautiful and digni- 
 fied combination of walls, columns, sculptures, symbols and architec- 
 tural glories on the wretched plain of Karnak! Temples and Palaces 
 that were neglected and decaying before Greece and Rome had been 
 moulded into nations." 
 
 The day after, by a shabby ferry, we crossed the Nile, then on 
 sturdy little donkeys rode to the mountains bordering the Libyan 
 desert ; at first through a country where tall Indian corn was ripening, 
 then into a desolate valley on the edge of the desert and in the face of 
 the limestone rock we came to the Royal Tombs. 
 
 Those poor Kings of Egypt, spending their lives and their 
 money in making splendid their last resting places; obscuring the 
 entrance as far as possible, — swishing to lie forever "in seclusion and 
 remote from men," — ^by what cruel irony of Fate have their Tombs 
 become the quest of the antiquary and the curious? and even worse, 
 
 Page Two Hundred Fifty-nine 
 
•immniminimiiMiiiiiminiiiiiniiniiiiiiiiiiniinriuiniiiniiniinirmiimniiiniiiiMiiitniiiiminnirniiiimiinimiiiiiiniiiHiminiiiMiininiiimmMiimnmiitiiiiniiiiiiiiiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 MuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiMiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiininiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiun 
 
 when through gift or purchase, the poor, unoffending mummies are 
 carried to different parts of the World, and become in Museums a 
 show to be stared and gaped at. It does seem cruel! 
 
 We went into several of the Tombs, the finest that of Sethos I, 
 discovered by Belzoni, and named for him. A hole in the rock was all 
 we saw from without. Within, 200 feet below the surface of the 
 earth, hewn from the solid rock, in the very heart of the mountain — 
 all now lighted by electricity — ia, series of galleries, large rooms and 
 passage ways one of which led to the spacious, innermost chamber; — 
 and there, lying in his sarcophagus we saw the mummified remains 
 of one of the greatest of the Pharaohs, with an incandescent lamp 
 hanging over his face. It was very interesting but inexpressibly sad ! 
 
 The Tombs were beautifully decorated and adorned with sculp- 
 ture, the walls covered with a profusion of paintings that in the dry 
 air of Egypt remained brilliant in color, and with few exceptions 
 fresh as the artist's hand had left them thousands of years ago. 
 
 The pictures represented their occupations and associations, their 
 religious, domestic and social life. Roasting meats, making pastry, 
 drawing wine, boating on the Nile; Gods and Goddesses quaint and 
 angular, with heads of birds or animals, blue and white water-lilies, 
 snakes, musical instruments, and emblems of various kinds. 
 
 The next day we crossed the river again and on the same little 
 donkeys "Gen. Grant" and "Yankee Doodle" visited some of the 
 Temples of Thebes. That of Rameses II with rows of headless 
 giant statues, the figures with their folded arms full of grandeur and 
 mystery; but giants though they were how dwarfed they must have 
 looked beside the polished granite statue of Rameses himself — ^now 
 overthrown and in fragments — that erect, measured sixty-five feet in 
 height. 
 
 We saw the vast ruins of "Medeenet Haboo" and in our mean- 
 dering passed a place where excavation was going on. Under an 
 overseer a score of youths, loincloths their only covering, using their 
 hands for shovels were scooping up the sand and carrying it a short 
 distance away. 
 
 In merciless heat from the sun above, and the burning sand be- 
 neath, those poor creatures were singing as they worked. It was a 
 doleful little song of only three notes but how they could do even 
 that was a puzzle to me. You said they were born to the heat and 
 did not mind it, but that I could not believe. 
 
 One of the boys followed us at a distance, until we were a long 
 way from the excavating group, then he overtook us and handed 
 
 Page Two Hundred Sixty 
 
4iiHiiiniiMtitiiiiHHiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiniitiininiiiiininiiinMiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinuiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiininiiiiiiiiiininiiiiiMiuniinMiHiiiiintiiiH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aniMiHiininiiHiiiiiniMiiuniuiinniinninuiMniiiiiiiiiiiiniiHiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiinnniiiiniiiiiiiniiriiNHiiuuiiininiiHiunininnniiiiiiiiiiiirinininiirMniniMiiiiniuiiuiiiiniiiii^ 
 
 something to Abdallah — our garrulous dragoman. Abdallah exam- 
 ined it carefully then gave it to you, saying, "It is a child's necklace 
 — all the poor Egyptian children used to wear such necklaces for 
 good luck — cats are sacred animals and wearing little cats is lucky — 
 the boy found this one while working in the morning and hid it in the 
 sand until we came along — ^I know the boy's father and mother — 
 good people — I know the boy — good boy — he wouldn't tell a lie." 
 
 "Do you believe what Abdallah says?" you asked. 
 
 "Not one word," I answered, "but the boy may tell the truth. 
 Why shouldn't he have found the necklace in the sand?" 
 
 I rather liked the looks of the shabby little object and you 
 bought it for a trifle. When you laughed at me for being credulous, 
 I reminded you of the old Roman coins you purchased at Paestum, 
 and believed them genuine, until an expert convinced you they were 
 worthless. As no expert ever passed upon my small, droll necklace, I 
 have always believed that my "little cats" were worn thousands of 
 years ago, around the neck of a child that dwelt in the desolate 
 "Valley of the Tombs." 
 
 The statues of Memnon, two lonely, solitary seated figures fifty 
 feet in height were very impressive. Sadly mutilated, the faces near 
 by bore little semblance to mankind, but a little distance away they 
 were the most human and pathetic of objects; sitting in solitude and 
 silence on the desolate, deserted Theban plain, counting Time by 
 thousands of years and looking wistfully to the East, the dawn and 
 the River Nile. For long, they fairly haunted me, those lonely 
 statues of Memnon! 
 
 We spent a most interesting week in and about Luxor, then took 
 a morning train for Assouan. 
 
 Luxuriant fields of Indian corn and sugar cane stretched along 
 the river bank and other fields were being prepared for planting, — 
 one crop succeeding another in a land where summer lasted through- 
 out the year. Plowing was done by camels or camels and oxen 
 yoked together; the plow was home made, the plowshare a crooked 
 stick; the plowman a funny looking object, his only garment indigo 
 blue trousers with legs about a foot in length. 
 
 The heat was like a furnace, but when we made a long enough 
 stop at the stations to see something we were quickly out of the car. 
 The villages were frequent; the houses dreary, with windowless, sun- 
 baked, sun-cracked mud walls and open air courts that gave entrance 
 to two or three dark rooms. We looked into several dirty courts 
 swarming with naked children and chickens. In one we saw a picture 
 
 Page Two Hundred Sixty-one 
 
inniinniiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiMininiHiiiiiiiiiMiniiiiititiiiMiiiinitiiininiiiiiiiiiniiiHMiniiiiiiHiiinuiiiuniiiiniiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiuiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiininiiriiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin 
 
 IN UPPER EGYPT 
 
 ;hat we long remembered — a very old man 
 leated on a stool and standing beside him, a 
 vhite donkey. Only the graceful, feathery 
 Tonds of the many luxuriant date-palm 
 rees saved the villages from being perfectly 
 lideous. 
 
 The life of the people interested us im- 
 aensely. To and from the river bank women 
 7ent and came, filling their jars and carrying 
 hem away on their heads. Nearly all wore 
 lack gowns and drew the skirts over their 
 aces when we looked at them. A sad change 
 1 carrying water is going on. Instead of 
 tie picturesque earthen jars, prosaic tins that 
 ave held petroleum are often seen, the women 
 ^rciciiiiig Liieiii as oeing lighter in weight. 
 
 The poor women were a forlorn looking lot ; but not so the men. 
 They wore light turbans and dark blue gowns that enveloped them 
 from head to feet. In front of the little cafes they congregated, 
 drinking thick Turkish coffee or sitting around a bubble-bubble pipe, 
 passing the mouthpiece from hand to hand, each taking in turn two 
 or three whiffs. 
 
 But all the men were not idle. We saw them cultivating the soil 
 and working their shadoofs in comical, much abbreviated blue trous- 
 ers, on the river bank. What familiar objects those numberless 
 shadoofs became, that watered the small patches of land owned or 
 rented by the poor. Just a pole, with a bucket on one end, and a 
 lump of dried mud on the other end, across a horizontal bar upheld 
 by two supports. 
 
 The owners of large tracts raised water for irrigation with the 
 sakia, a large wheel around which buckets were attached that dipped 
 in the river and emptied themselves into a distributing canal. The 
 wheel was worked by ox or buffalo and always creaked and cried and 
 groaned as though in great distress. 
 
 At sunset men spread their mats and knelt to say their evening 
 prayer, bowing their heads to the ground. Before darkness fell the 
 palm tree groves became infrequent, cultivation insignificant, and the 
 valley, two narrow strips of sandy soil with the shining river between. 
 
 Arrived at Assouan, we went to the Cataract Hotel. When the 
 
 Page Two Hundred Sixty-two 
 
aiininiininniiiiiiMMMrniiiniiiiiiiiinnirMinniiiinniniiiiiiiiiitniniiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniiniiiiniiiHiniiiiiiiniiiiiinninnniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiitiiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 nmiiiiiiiiiiiiiini iiiinnMiiiiiiiniiiiiiniiiiiiimiiMiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiniiiniiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiminnimiiiiiiiiniMiiiimiiiiiiminiiiiiiiiiiii^ mil 
 
 Manager looked at your registered name and place of residence he 
 remarked, "San Francisco is a long way from Assouan." 
 
 You admitted that it was. He may have been sorry for us, 
 being so far from home, and added, "If you are only going to make 
 a short stay I can give you the pleasantest room in the house." 
 
 You told him we should not remain beyond a week and he 
 assigned us a room occupied every winter by an English couple. It 
 was a delightful room with an immense bay window, and balconj^ 
 overhanging the river, giving us an extended view of a mysterious 
 looking country and the river, that there broadened out into a sheet 
 of water embracing several small islands, — all bathed in wonderful 
 light from the moon and stars. 
 
 Going out from the hotel next morning we were accosted by a 
 mite of a boy, who asked, "You want dragoman?" 
 
 We looked at him, at each other, and laughed. "Me speakee 
 Englis," the mite continued, "You takee me?" 
 
 He was an engaging little creature with the brightest of eyes, 
 the whitest of teeth and the kinkiest of hair. His one garment was 
 white, sleeveless, fastened on the left shoulder and fell to the knees, 
 leaving bare the well-shaped limbs. He had four rings in one of his 
 ears; one in the lobe, the others in the rim above, and several rings 
 upon his fingers. His name was Hassan. He said he was seven 
 years old but looked younger. The expectant look on his little face 
 was irresistible. 
 
 Trying your best to appear serious, you asked, "Shall we engage 
 him?" When I answered "Yes." Hassan was overjoyed. 
 
 As we walked along, men approached one after another to offer 
 their services as guides, but always Hassan drew himself up on tip- 
 toes, threw out his little chest like a pouter pigeon, saying, "Me drag- 
 oman," and such was the esprit de corps that every applicant smiled 
 and turned away. 
 
 We could never persuade Hassan to leave us until we reached 
 the hotel entrance and we always found him waiting when we went 
 out — he was like a faithful little dog. Where and when he got the 
 food that kept his face and body so well rounded was a mystery. 
 
 We could not understand half that he said, but he was such a 
 cheerful, laughing, chattering little being that I declared I should 
 like to put him in my pocket and carry him away and you wisely 
 asked, what I would do with him when he outgrew my pocket. 
 
 When we met Hassan on the third morning he had his kinky 
 hair loaded with cocoa butter and a wooden skewer stuck through the 
 
 Page Two Hundred Sixty-three 
 
MiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiMiiiiiiii iiMiMiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiKiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiimimniinniiiiiiiiiniimiiiiiiiimiiiiiimiiiit 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 *■■ iiiiinmiiiiiiiiMUii itiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiniiiiiiiiiiiiiJiiiiinMiiiniiiiiiiiiinitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiniiniiiiiiiiiniiiiii 
 
 kinks. He explained that by working the oil through his hair wdth 
 the stick, the kink would come out and he pulled at a lock to show the 
 length of it. 
 
 Hassan belonged to the Bischarenes, a tribe of the desert with 
 a large encampment a few miles away. The men that rode into 
 town on their camels, with long spears in their hands were striking 
 looking figures. Their arms and shoulders were bare; their hair — 
 originally kinky like Hassan's — was plaited and hung in greasy 
 braids around their heads and they wore many rings in the rim of 
 one ear. 
 
 When the women of the tribe came to town they trudged on foot. 
 They wore their hair plaited in the same greasy braids, and were 
 adorned with many rings in one ear, and a ring in one nostril. 
 
 From Assouan we went to the island of Philae to see the beauti- 
 ful, elaborate and artistic Temple of Isis and the exquisite little 
 structure known as Pharaoh's Bed, — outlined against the clear, blue 
 sky, it was the loveliest thing we saw in Egypt. 
 
 The First Cataract was a disappointment, — a small stream of 
 water flowing through a waste of rock. We saw the ugly Assouan 
 dam with yellow, foaming water running through the open sluices. 
 The -dam is without doubt a great engineering feat ; a towering wall 
 of concrete and granite, — useful because it increases the acreage for 
 growing cotton and food products; deplorable because it is only a 
 question of time when those priceless Temples of antiquity must fall. 
 We were able to walk about the charming courts, but in the season of 
 flood with the island and all around submerged, the Temples rise 
 from a waste of undermining waters. In one of the ancient quarries 
 we saw the great obelisk that in the ages past was partly cut from its 
 red granite bed. 
 
 The bazaars at Assouan, while not so large as those at Cairo 
 were far more interesting, for in addition to everything found at 
 Cairo, there were baby crocodiles caught above the Cataract, tusks 
 and skins of wild animals; barbaric ornaments, assegais, dirks and 
 many other weapons of deadly aspect. 
 
 We thoroughly enjoyed our week at Assouan, and were sorry to 
 leave the well-managed Cataract Hotel; sorry to say good-by to our 
 dear, little dragoman, but Hassan's happy face wore its perennial 
 smile and he did not show the slightest regret at parting from us ; not 
 sorry to lose sight of an eccentric Englishman who for two hours 
 every morning, and two hours every afternoon rode back and forth 
 on the lively, little shopping street, less than half a mile in length. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Sixty-four 
 
iittrtntiinMiinniMinnniMHninniiniMiinnMirinnnMirninniiiniiiiiiuiiimiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiniiiinimiiiinnininininmmniiiiHiiniinimiiiiiim^^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 «iiiiniiitHniniiiiMMiuiiiiniiiuMiiiiHiiininiMniinMiiiiiininHiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiniininiiiiinin(ninnniiiiiniiiiiinnHuiuiiiiniMuiinimuiiinuiuiitiinHiiiiiniiuniiiiininiin 
 
 that led to the bazaar. He was gotten up as though ready to go 
 on an expedition across the desert and was an eyesore to everybody. 
 The EngHsh spoke of him as "that dreadful man" — the Americans 
 as "that crazy Englishman"; not sorry to lose the "night watch" of 
 the hotel. At Shepheards' and at Luxor we had frequent glimpses of 
 the white robed night attendants flitting noiselessly on their slippered 
 feet along the passage-ways, like specters; but at Assouan the five 
 in charge of our floor gave me the shivers. There seemed to be no 
 demand for their services. They sat on a bench that we had to pass 
 in going to and coming from our room, and no matter how often we 
 went back and forth, the five white gowned figures would rise as we 
 approached and stand like statues with bowed heads until we passed. 
 
 We stopped at Luxor and enjoyed the delightful platform 
 hanging over the Nile, and went again to see the majestic, sculptured 
 Pylon, and mighty columns of the ruined Temples and Palaces at 
 Karnak, then returned to Cairo. 
 
 After the ruins and desolation on the wretched, deserted plains 
 of "Upper Egypt" it seemed good to be back in the bustle and stir 
 and life of Cairo. 
 
 We had seen nothing more ancient than the Sphinx and Pyra- 
 mids but they were not depressing and rather made for cheerfulness. 
 True, the poor, old Sphinx had lost his nose and his beard, but he 
 still wore a self-satisfied smile, and while the Pyramids were not 
 all intact there was nothing about them that suggested ruin and 
 decay. All through the day, and by moonlight and starlight they 
 were a center for animation, with tourists on foot, on donkey, or 
 camel, hovering about, — nor were the Tombs of the Mamelukes 
 dispiriting in any way. 
 
 Yes ! we were glad to be back in delightful, fascinating. Oriental 
 Cairo where so many scenes in the "Tales of the Arabian Nights" 
 w^ere laid, — where we saw white-veiled women with sandalled feet and 
 jewelled anklets hurrying to catch a trolley car, — to Cairo, the home 
 of the running sais, and the "Muski," — glad to be back to the stir and 
 life of the hotel, the entertaining terrace and the evening hops where 
 girls in soft colored dancing gowns, Turkish officials in evening dress 
 and becoming fez, and English officers from the garrison in hand- 
 some uniforms were always in evidence. 
 
 We did not willingly leave Cairo, but Cairo was too expensive- 
 for us, and after a weeks further stay we said good-by to its allure- 
 ments. 
 
 As we had eagerly watched the Pyramids increase in size, from 
 
 Page Two Hundred Sixty-live 
 
•HiHniniiiiiiniiiiuiiiiiiniiiiniiniiiiuMiiiiiiiiniiiiiMiiniiiiitiintiiiuiiiiiiNiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiituiniiiiiiiiiiniiiiuiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiniiHiH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiimniiiiniinmiiiiiiiiiiinMUiinmiiHiiiiiiniiiniitiiiniiiiiiiriiimiiiliiiiiiliiiiillillliiHiniiiiinninuimrnniiinninMHiiiiiMniinnniiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiMniinHi^ 
 
 MAJESTIC SCULPTURED PYLON AT KARNAK 
 
 Page Two Hundred Sixty six 
 
iintriiiitiiniinMriininniiiriiiiiiiiiinnHnnMinitniiiiiiriiiiiinriiinuniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiMniiHiiiniiniiiniiiiiiiriiiiiiiniiiniiiiininiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiinitn 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiniiiiiiniiiiniiiiimiiiiniininMntnJuiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiimHiimmiiimiiniiiiiiiMiniiiiiiiiiiiiiniuiiiiinniitiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiii^ 
 
 the moment we saw them dimly outlined on the horizon, so now we 
 regretfully watched them diminish until they faded from our sight. 
 Soon the wonderland of Egypt, the strange, weird, mysterious land 
 would lie behind us, and be only a memory. The land of the 
 Pharaohs, and ruins of their vast, splendid Temples and Palaces on 
 deserted plains; the painted and sculptured Tombs in the desolate 
 valley; the land watered by the grand old River Nile; the land of 
 Sphinx and Pyramid on desert sand; the land where many Bible 
 scenes were laid. All would lie behind us, "that heritage from the 
 dawn of the ages;" but ever with us, a rich and lasting memory that 
 we were glad and thankful to have and to hold. 
 
 We had an uneventful voyage to Marseilles. We passed Strom- 
 boli in daylight and the lava rolling down its scarred side was inky 
 black. We reached our old quarters in Nice January 3, 1906. The 
 house colony welcomed us warmly and were glad to see us in their 
 midst. We felt rather conscience stricken not to be equally glad, 
 For some little time the spell of Egypt was upon us, then we took up 
 the old life and were happy and contented. 
 
 In April we were in Venice and read in the evening paper — 
 The Secolo — that San Francisco had been destroyed by an earth- 
 quake, and that 10,000 people were buried beneath the ruins. Oh! 
 the untold apprehension and anxiety that little paragraph gave us! 
 The next day the exaggerated report of loss of life was corrected and 
 from then on, statements of the Venice papers were verified later by 
 news from London. We knew when the Palace Hotel was burning, 
 — when the flames reached Noh Hill and where the houses were being 
 dynamited to check the conflagration. 
 
 In London, we waited for news direct, and how glad and thank- 
 ful we were for letters telling that all our friends were safe, though 
 many had suff*ered grevious loss. With minds relieved, we gave 
 ourselves up to the full enjoyment of London and its environs at that 
 most delightful season of the year. 
 
 At Covent Garden Opera House May fifteenth we heard Caruso 
 in Rigoletto. It was his first appearance in Opera since his earth- 
 quake experience in San Francisco. He was given a tremendous ova- 
 tion to which he seemed unpleasantly indifferent. Later we heard 
 Caruso in The Meister Singer of Nuremberg. 
 
 At one of the Theaters we saw a play of Pinero with our old- 
 time favorite of the California Theater, Bella Pateman, in the cast; 
 and we saw the pretty ballet of Cappelia danced to the lovely music 
 of Delibe. At Olympia (that vast show place) the attraction was 
 
 Page Two Hundred Sixty-seven 
 
•Ill" i">""">>"i'MiiiiniiHiniMiiiiiinMi[ininniiiinimiiniiiiiiiiiiiimimiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniininiiiinmiinniiiiHiiinuniiinniinnniMitiuiiniiiiiiiimHiuiiniuiiii^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiuHniiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiumiinmimiiiiiiiniinuinuniiiiimimiuiniiiiHuiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiu 
 
 "Tilting in Tudor Times," and at the Alhambra they were showing a 
 fihn, advertised in big letters all over the city, "The Destruction of 
 San Francisco by Earthquake and Fire." That we did not see. 
 
 Through the courtesy of a gentleman to whom we had carried a 
 letter of introduction from a San Francisco friend, we made several 
 visits to Ranelagh, a delightful park (with splendid trees and a little 
 stream crossed by rustic bridges) on the outskirts of the City, in con- 
 trol of an exclusive club. There we saw that most delightful of 
 games, polo, played by experts; such spirited and exciting games! 
 and the ponies, those dear, little polo ponies ! every one seemed imbued 
 with all the fire and spirit and wisdom of the polo pony Kipling 
 wrote about. 
 
 When the games were over it was time for tea; then around the 
 tables on the porches of the clubhouse and under the trees merry 
 parties assembled. The waiters wore long scarlet coats — not jackets 
 — and moving about, among the guests "star-scattered on the grass," 
 added to the brightness of a scene that was ideal in its beauty. 
 
 We went to all the charming, blooming suburbs and on the fifth 
 of June sailed from Liverpool on the S. S. Caronia for New York. 
 It was near the end of January, 1907, before we reached poor, dear, 
 stricken, pitiful San Francisco. The vast area of ruin was such a 
 sad, distressing spectacle that early in May we said good-by to the 
 dear friends who had given us a warm welcome and went to our old 
 home in Central New York for the summer; to the City until Janu- 
 ary, 1908; to Southern California and in March back to San Fran- 
 cisco. 
 
 As we passed through the Santa Clara Valley the country looked 
 so beautiful with wild flowers on the railroad banks and the earliest 
 fruit blossoms coming out, that we could not keep it from our minds, 
 and after a few days spent in seeing friends we went to San Jose. 
 From the Vendome Hotel day after day we took the interurban cars 
 to reach the blooming orchards. Sometimes we went beyond the 
 orchards to fields that were a glory of blue and gold — lupins and 
 poppies springing from the luxuriant grass made a picture that on 
 canvas would have been called an artist's license. 
 
 One Spring we determined to follow the blossoming fruit trees. 
 We commenced in March with the South of France and finished with 
 the apple orchards of Kent — the garden of England — at the end of 
 May, but we saw nothing that for variety and beauty compared with 
 the Santa Clara Valley. 
 
 We spent many delightful weeks that summer in the Yosemite 
 
 Page Two Hundred Sixty-eight 
 
wiHMHinMiMiiuiiiiiiiiiiniiiinnMnirMninnnriiiiiiniiMrMniiiiriiiiiiniiimimtiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiuniniiiiiniiiMtiinnnirMniiiiiiiimiiiiiimimiiimim 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 HuiiiiiiiinirniiiinniiiuiiiiHiiiiiiniiiiniiiininiiniuitHniiiiniiiuuinininiiiiiiiiitiininiMiiiiiiniiiiinniiiiiiiiiiiiniininiiiiiniiiiininiininiiMuiiiiiniiiiriiiiiiiiiMniiinMin 
 
 Valley at the plain, comfortable Sentinel Hotel. It gives me pleasure 
 to remember there were no automobiles, no string of electric lights on 
 the Valley road, and no lift planned to carry the self-indulgent 
 tourist to Glacier Point. Only the beauty and grandeur of Nature 
 coupled with the simple life ! 
 
 We talked of previous visits and of that one ante-dating by a 
 little all that I have recorded ; how we went to Stockton by boat and 
 from Stockton to Mariposa by stage coach and what a dreadful ride 
 it was ! Chinamen made the inside of the coach impossible and I sat 
 on top with you and two other gentlemen of our party. The heat was 
 torrid. At places where we stopped to change or water the poor 
 horses, and where we had our dinner thermometers registered 100 
 degrees in the shade. 
 
 A friend of yours in charge of the Gen. Fremont mines was wait- 
 ing^ the arrival of the stage. He took us to his pretty home where 
 we were hospitably welcomed. There in a darkened room I lay the 
 following day recovering from heat prostration, and the kindness, 
 the more than kindness! of that dear family to me, neither of us 
 ever forgot. 
 
 On the second day although I felt badly, and we were urged to 
 take a longer rest, we started on horseback for the Valley, and what 
 a rare day we had! Invigorating air, the freshness of the mountains 
 in June and the bloom of flowers! Lilies were in their glory! the 
 Mariposa in great variety of color, tall, fragrant Easter lilies, tiger 
 lilies, clumps of wild roses, a very carpet of modest flowers over all 
 the ground, and then the Valley ! The beautiful, wonderful, glorious 
 Valley! 
 
 The Inn was kept by one Leidig. It consisted of two buildings, 
 one containing four square rooms of equal size for guests; the par- 
 titions between the rooms were about seven feet in height; the space 
 from the floor to the pointed roof considerable. The dining room and 
 kitchen were in another building. The table was bountifully supplied 
 with trout and venison. We spent a week in the Valley going every- 
 where on horseback. There had been much snow the previous winter 
 and the falls were magnificent, but getting our horses across the 
 swollen streams was often difficult, often hazardous. On our return 
 to Mariposa our party broke up, as we spent several days with our 
 kind friends. 
 
 We had a very happy winter. We found the Fairmont Hotel a 
 pleasant place in which to live. Our friends had recovered from the 
 shock and strain of the disaster and were all in good spirits, full of 
 
 Page Two Hundred Sixty-nine 
 
mininiiiininiimmnniiniiinitiiiiininiinnMniiiiiinininiinnnniMiiiiiiiiiiimmiiiinniMiiininiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiMiMiiinininiiMniiiHniiiinMuniiniiniuMniniiiMiHiiHniiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 aiuiiimiiiiniiiiiiiiiiriiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiininiiniiMinniniiiininiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiMimiiiiiiiiiNiiiininiinMniiniiiiiMnninnunniiiiinninnii^ 
 
 hope and an abiding faith in the future greatness of San Francisco. 
 They were wonderfully brave! No one complained or drew com- 
 parisons between then and now. Many had lost beautiful homes and 
 the elegant, cherished contents, entirely or in part, but they re- 
 adjusted their lives cheerfully no matter how plain the surroundings. 
 
 April 19, 1909, we left San Francisco for the East, stopping for 
 several days in Washington. The country about, and the Capital 
 were in the beautiful flush of Spring. San Francisco friends in 
 Army official life stationed there, made our visit a delight to remem- 
 ber. 
 
 Summer in the old home and October twenty-first we sailed from 
 New York on S. S. Carpathia for Fiume, the principal port of 
 Hungary. The sea was kind and with your happy faculty of making 
 friends, our little coterie was soon formed. The late Bishop of Mary- 
 land, Bishop Paret residing in Baltimore, a delightful man with a 
 delightful family were among those we most enjoyed. 
 
 We lost a few passengers at Gibraltar, many at Genoa and at 
 Naples all but a few who were residents of Trieste. It was midnight 
 before we got away from Naples. We passed Stromboli next morn- 
 ing and in the afternoon went through the Straits of Messina. A 
 sad sight it was, with the ruins of Calabrian towns on one side, and 
 the ruins of Messina on the other, all destroyed by the earthquake of 
 the previous year. 
 
 Going up the Adriatic we had a taste of the disagreeable bora. 
 A cold, piercing, violent North wind that was just calming down. 
 
 We were more than glad to put our feet on terra firma when we 
 reached Trieste, but did not get beyond the first cafe and tempting 
 little table on the sidewalk. Oh! those delicious Austrian rolls and 
 sweet butter! and the coffee! No, it wasn't coffee we decided. It 
 was nectar, and sipping our nectar we watched the people passing on 
 the street. Greeks in short, full, white tunics and gold embroidered 
 jackets, picturesque Dalmatians, Turks, Armenians and Italians. 
 
 "Pleasant and interesting but not seeing the City," you said, 
 "and we are the slaves of duty," so off we started. 
 
 One of the first things we noticed were the iron posts a Trieste 
 merchant had told us of. We found them on streets leading from 
 the water and exposed to the wind. Iron posts with rings at the top 
 through which ropes were threaded for people to cling to when the 
 bora blows its worst. The dreadful bora! from the Karst mountains, 
 that tears the ships from their moorings and lifts the people from 
 their feet. It had practically blown itself out but the Captain 
 
 Page Two Hundred Seventy 
 
«iiiriiniiiiiiiiunitMiiiniiiiiiiriiiiiiniiniiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiininiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiniiiiuiininitiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 wimiiiiiiniiiiiiiimiiiiinniinnuiHiniiiiiiiiiiiniiiiininiuiHiiiiuiiniiiiiiunHiiiiiiiiiunininiiuciniMiuimiminiiiiiiiiiinuiuiiuiniiiiiMiHiiiiiiiiiiiu^ 
 
 fastened the Carpathia to the wharf by strong chains and had the 
 anchor dropped. 
 
 The streets of old Trieste were steep and narrow. One led to a 
 fortified Castle and the Cathedral. We were told the Cathedral was 
 fine and the view from it grand; but the name of the street, "The 
 Steps of the Giants," discouraged us. 
 
 The new part of the City was attractive with promenades, 
 statues, fountains and beautiful public buildings noticeably the Ex- 
 change and Chamber of Commerce. The Austrian Lloyd S. S. offices 
 were quite palatial and directly opposite on a handsome square, the 
 Town Hall, and the palace of Prince Hohenlohe, the Stadtholder of 
 the province. 
 
 There was a picturesque canal that reminded us delightfully of 
 the Grand Canal in Venice ; narrower, well built on both sides, full of 
 barges and boats with bright-colored lateen sails it was very ani- 
 mated and very Venetian. 
 
 Dinner time brought a problem. Should we go back to the 
 Steamer; to the "banquet hall deserted" or dine ashore. What we 
 did was a foregone conclusion. We had a fine dinner at a handsome 
 restaurant and promised ourselves that we would save the cost if it in 
 some other way — at least I said we would. When at ten o'clock we 
 returned to the Carpathia the brilliantly lighted streets were full of 
 life, and thronged with a population that looked even more Oriental 
 than by day. 
 
 The next morning we took a small steamer for Miramar, the 
 beautiful chateau of the Archduke Maximilian, a most delightful 
 place standing upon a high, rocky bluff, surrounded by a lovely park 
 with glorious views in every direction. 
 
 The spacious rooms in the white marble palace were richly fur- 
 nished and full of art treasures. Two rooms were unique. An im- 
 mense structure of glass in which hundreds of gold fish were swim- 
 ming about in clear water, among tufts of soft, pretty grasses formed 
 the center of the ceiling in one room. In the room above, the pretty, 
 airy, indoor pool was surrounded by an elegant railing of chiselled 
 bronze. The unusual and artistic creation being — we were told — a 
 fancy of the unfortunate Empress Carlotta. 
 
 The gardens and park were a dream of beauty. Flowers, tall, 
 dark cypress trees, long shady avenues and leafy bowers where we 
 sat and watched the little boats with orange-colored sails skimming 
 over the blue waters of the Bay. 
 
 From that ideally beautiful home the ill-starred Maximilian, 
 
 Page Two Hundred Seventy-one 
 
iinriiniiMiiMitriniuitriinrniniiiiiiiMiMiiiiMiinHininimiiiMimiiirrimiiiirninimuMinmnniniiiniiiiininiinimnniiiunmnniiniiiiiiiiniitHiiiinniimmnimiinM 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 >nmtHtiiiniiiiiHjiiiiiiniiiiinuiiiHnMiiiniiiMiiininiiiMiMiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiinniiinriiiiniiiiiiiinniiiinnMinniiiiinHiiniiniiiiiniinininninHiiinNiniiiniiiiinniiniinniiiniinMui 
 
 "lured by the glitter of a phantom crown," went to Mexico to meet 
 his tragic fate, while his poor, demented wife lives on, waiting and 
 watching for her loved ones return. 
 
 Late in the afternoon, the only first-class passengers on the ship, 
 we went to Fiume fifty miles away. There, november tenth, we said 
 good-by to the Carpathia and were glad to exchange our cabin for 
 the spacious room given us at the excellent Grand Hotel de'l Europe. 
 
 Like all Continental cities Fiume had an old quarter with 
 narrow, crooked streets of unequal width; it had also an Arco 
 Romano, an indifferent triumphal arch of Claudius II. The new 
 part of the city stretching along the waterfront was well built and 
 attractive. All the population seemed to be taking tea or coffee; 
 little tables had possession of the sidewalks and on nearly every block 
 we were turned into the roadway. By chance we strolled towards the 
 waterfront teeming with sailors and picturesque fishermen with bare, 
 brown legs, crimson sashes so wide that they looked like waist-coats, 
 and knitted crimson caps, fully half a yard in length, finished with 
 tassel. 
 
 We noticed an immense, barn-like structure and inquiring 
 learned that it was a Hotel for emigrants. Fiume was the great 
 shipping port for emigrants from S. E. Europe to the United States, 
 and the building, with room for 3,000 people, was erected for their 
 accommodation. 
 
 During the afternoon we saw a group of Croatian peasant 
 women in short, full, pleated skirts of snow-white linen, embroidered 
 bodices of black velvet and red or orange-colored handkerchiefs on 
 their heads ; for picturesqueness dividing honors with the fishermen. 
 
 The Hotel dining room that evening presented a bright picture. 
 A large party of "Young Turks" with fezzed heads that were in 
 constant motion quite filled a long table. They were a noisy lot, 
 talking in tones so loud that they drowned the music of a fine Hun- 
 garian band. Later in the evening the same band played in the 
 Piazza Dante where we enjoyed, with all Fiume, the promenade con- 
 cent. 
 
 After breakfast next morning you gave me a choice between 
 going up a high hill to the Pilgrimage Church for a view, or taking 
 a boat to the pleasure resort of Abbazia. I chose Abbazia and there 
 we went. A pretty spot but the delight of the place to us was in the 
 avenues and groves of Arbutus unedo trees, with clusters of large, red 
 berries covered with delicate frost-work hanging amid the rich foliage. 
 Only at the Lakes of Killarney, in that visit of long ago, had we 
 seen such magnificent specimens of that delightful tree. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Seventy-two 
 
miiiiniiiuriniiiMiniiniMnriMninitniMiiiMiMiiiiiiMinriiniiiinnrmiiiMirniiiHimimniiiinnniNinnitiiininiirnnininiiMiiiiriiiininiitiiiiinniiitiimiiminiiMHiitiiniiriiniiMMiiiHim^^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 'iiiniiiiiiimiiiiiiiii itniiiiniiiiiiiHiiinuininiiiiiinniiiniiuiimiiiiiiiiiiinnmiinmiiuiiniiiniMnHniiiiiiiiiiMnniininmHinniiiiiiiiiiiiinininmiiiiiiuiiiiiiniiiiiiiiinniiiiHim 
 
 In the afternoon we went through the Government tobacco 
 manufactory where 3,000 women and girls were at work. A scant 
 dower of beauty and no picturesqueness did we see among them. 
 
 From Fiume we returned to Trieste, then went to Venice. It 
 was cold in Venice with a cutting wind that seemed to blow from 
 every quarter. Our hotel was opposite the handsome Church de la 
 Salute and our windows looked on the Grand Canal. 
 
 One day we saw a wedding party go and come from the Church. 
 The gondolas, with the bride in white and many bridesmaids looked 
 very pretty. Another day a religious ceremony with a long proces- 
 sion of gondolas interested us, but we were not in Venice to lead an 
 indoor life. The wintry wind did not abate; the streets and canals 
 were equally uncomfortable and we went to Florence; we went from 
 bad to worse ; to rain and an icy wind that cut like a knife and we 
 both fell sick with colds, so the last month of the old year was not a 
 happy one for us. 
 
 January 3, 1910, we returned to Nice, glad to be again in the 
 familiar surroundings and with the friendly, familiar set. 
 
 The first of May we were on the Lake of Como. The flowers 
 were gorgeous but the weather was too cold for the nightingales. In 
 sheltered places from the thickest foHage of trees and shrubs we 
 heard their sweet, mournful notes. 
 
 We spent some time in Geneva and about the Lake. At Lau- 
 sanne we heard a concert that we enjoyed immensely. A "Cantique 
 Suisse" by cornet and a large number of hoiiM." Very inspirating ! 
 
 In June we were in London. We heard Aida and Traviata by 
 the song birds that had come from the Metropolitan Opera House in 
 New York for the London season ; we saw the Russian dancers, Anna 
 Pavlova and Mordkin, repeatedly — being something new they were 
 quite the vogue. Two afternoons we went to Ranelagh and saw the 
 Etonians and Cantabs defeat their opponents in madly exciting 
 games of polo, then had tea under the trees with our delightful host. 
 We went up the Thames by boat to Oxford, and by tally-ho coach 
 through the Shakespeare country, then back to the Continent. 
 
 We drank the waters at Carlsbad for two weeks then went by 
 way of Pilsner and Budweis — what beery sounding names — to Linz, 
 a very attractive place on the glittering Danube, its domes and spires 
 gleaming amid the foliage of dark fir trees. A cog wheel road car- 
 ried us to the summit of the Postlingberg 2,000 feet above the town 
 from where we had a glorious view. 
 
 From Linz we went to Gmunden. We were now in a province 
 of Austria we had long wished to see. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Seventy-three 
 
tiiiiimiMiitiiHiiiiiiiiniiniiiniiitiiiiiiMiiiiii niiniiniiMiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMimitninimiiiiiiiiiiiimiiitimiiriinuiiiiiiiiiiiiMiinniiiiiiiininiminiintninninnniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinimiiiMHiiM 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiitiiiitiniiitiiiiiiMniiiMniniiiiiiMniiiiMiiuinuiiiMniniiiiiHiMiiiimniiiiimiiiiintiimmiiMMiiiiuuininiinMtiinnniiniiiniiininiiiniciiiniiiminininininiiiMHHnn 
 
 The Salzkammergut, a lovely country with a curious name — 
 growing out of the salt industry — a country of mountains and lakes, 
 upland meadows and valleys, quaint villages and picturesque people. 
 Gmunden you declared the loveliest spot you had ever seen, and 
 the Traunsee was a delightful lake, the waters a wonderful blue, 
 hemmed in by masses of mountains, the loftiest directly opposite, 
 6,000 feet in height. 
 
 On the lake shore an esplanade, with splendid, old plane trees 
 the leafy branches so interlaced overhead that they made a shelter 
 "impervious to sun and rain," and on the lake, row boats, little white- 
 sailed pleasure boats, large fishing boats with yellow sails, small lake 
 steamers and near the shore in and out among the boats swans 
 gliding about. 
 
 And what charming walks we had down the valley of the river 
 Traun ; the turbulent little river that leaves the lake at Gmunden and 
 brawls on its way to join the Danube; tiny waterfalls singing down 
 the mossy banks, and cyclamen in every shade of red growing in wild 
 profusion. Pretty villas made the stream sociable and at the waters 
 edge every villa had a little summer house, where the maids did the 
 family wash. They seemed very happy, kneeling at their work and 
 exchanging talk with neighbors on either side. 
 
 The little town was full of life. Every day seemed a fete or 
 Saints' day and the village working people and the picturesque 
 peasants from the country around were a lively, jovial lot. Singing 
 at their work, dancing through the streets and congregating in the 
 evening in a large, plain hall to end the day with merrymaking. A 
 song and dance combined that they gave with vim and abandon, we 
 particularly enjoyed. 
 
 From Gmunden we crossed the lake to Ischl, a favorite summer 
 home of the late Kaiser Franz Joseph ; another lovely place ; adorned 
 by the Emperor's palace, villas of the Austrian nobility, handsome 
 hotels and curhaus — with orchestras and theatrical companies from 
 Vienna, and elegant bathing and inhalation establishments for those 
 taking the cure. Ischl was a very center of fashionable life; into it, 
 the prosperous peasants of the district came, and with song and dance 
 and bright, fresh costumes added much to the charm of the place. 
 
 From Ischl we went to the Haltstatter See — one of a group of 
 eight lakes lying close together — to see the famous old town of 
 Hallstatt built on a steep hillside. The houses perched one above an- 
 other had broad balconies and overhanging roofs of black or red, and 
 on the narrow strip of land projecting in the lake two little churches 
 
 Page Two Hundred Seventy-f<mr 
 
umwrimiMJUiMnMiniiiiininiininMiHiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiNiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii niiuiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiimiiiininiiiiiHimit 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 mHuuiMiHuiiniiuiiiniuiininiiiiiiMHiiMniiNnMinuiuiinimtumiiiiiiuiuiiuiiiiiiiiiniiniiiiiuMiniiiniMiiiiUHniiiuiniiHinininiiiiminMiininunniinininiHiiiiiiiiium^ 
 
 with tall, slender spires making altogether the quaintest and most 
 picturesque of villages. 
 
 Then on to the market town of St. Wolfgang. It was Saturday 
 — Market day — and very interesting. All kinds of farm produce, 
 with fruit and vegetables, cows, horses, oxen, pigs and poultry bought 
 and sold by men and women in the picturesque dress of their locality ; 
 and at night there was a very revelry of song and dance. 
 
 The next morning by a rack-and-pinion road we went up the 
 Schafberg, 6,000 feet in height. It was a wonderful road that in 
 places made me hold my breath through fear. Running at first 
 through fields of grain and fruit orchards, then dark fir trees, and at 
 the top, with no vegetation we were in the midst of snow, and a 
 glorious panorama before us ; so many lovely blue lakes, such verdant 
 valleys, such dark forests of fir and glittering, snow-clad mountain 
 peaks, with the summit of the Schafberg mirrored in three lakes. 
 How glorious it was ! 
 
 We went across the beautiful lake to St. Gilgen, a queer little 
 place that Longfellow mentions in Hyperion; we found the small 
 chapel he described, "the walls covered with paintings and sculpture 
 of the rudest kind and a few marble funeral tablets." On one of 
 the tablets Longfellow read a "singular inscription" a translation of 
 which he gives. 
 
 "Look not mournfully into the Past. It comes not back again. 
 Wisely improve the Present. It is thine. Go forth to meet the 
 shadowy Future without fear and with a manly heart." 
 
 What a long hunt we had for that tablet, and how pleased we 
 were when at last we found it! 
 
 In the little church the afternoon service was going on. When it 
 was over the older people waited outside while the children knelt 
 awhile in prayer, and very pretty they looked, those boys and girls 
 in bright Tyrolean costume; then all the congregation, the pastor 
 leading, walked down the village street. 
 
 At St. Gilgen we said good-by to the romantically beautiful 
 country and the jovial, picturesque people and in the evening reached 
 Salzburg, always a favorite place with us. 
 
 We had expected to remain in Europe for the summer and prob- 
 ably the coming winter, and where should we spend the balance of 
 the summer. We talked of this place and that. Suddenly you said, 
 "Why not go home? we shall have three months before the really cold 
 weather. The fruit will soon be ripe in the orchard, and you always 
 enjoy the autumn tints of the trees," and that was what we did, sail- 
 ing from Antwerp for New York on S. S. Lapland July 30, 1910. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Seventy-five 
 
mHiiHiiittmminrniiiiinniMiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinimummnnHiriiimiiimniHtininniiitnrminiitinritiiiiiiiniimtmimnmninmimimiimtiiiiiimnr^^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 muiMiiiiniiniiniiiiiniHiiiiiiiiniiiiiriiiiiiMuniriiiiiiiiiiNiMiiiiiuiitnmiimriiiiiiiiiiiiHiniiiniininuiiiiiiiiHiiMiniMMiiuiiiiiniiniiiiniHiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniii^ 
 
 On the fourteenth of November we reached the Grand Canyon. 
 It was late for that region and we made the end of our journey in a 
 snow storm. To our great rehef the storm was Hke a summer shower ; 
 soon the sun shone and while the wind was sharp the atmopshere was 
 clear when we gazed upon that wonderful gorge with its color bands 
 stretching away for miles, its towers and turrets, its pinnacles, cliffs 
 and crags, and hundreds of feet below, looking like a narrow ribbon, 
 the Colorado River that had worn its ever-deepening channel through 
 the soil and left these fantastic shapes of marvellously colored sand- 
 stone. 
 
 We had a pleasant talk with Mr. Moran, the artist, who said "It 
 is a great day for reds and purples — another day brown and yellow 
 will dominate." 
 
 For the sake of old times we went to Coronado Beach. When- 
 ever in mid-winter we went for a short vacation to Southern Cali- 
 fornia, there was no place we enjoyed so much as Coronado Beach, 
 always finding San Francisco friends, and always having a royally 
 good time. 
 
 Charles Nordhoff, journalist and author, was living a few 
 blocks away. We had the pleasure of his acquaintance and met him 
 frequently at the hotel; more frequently at his home, where Mrs. 
 NordhofF and a daughter always made us welcome. Mr. Nordhoff 
 who had come to California for his health had passed away. To be- 
 guile the days of sorrow and loneliness Mrs. Nordhoff was travelling 
 with friends around the world, fell sick and died in India. Of the 
 daughter we knew nothing. We walked back and forth before the 
 house that had been the home of that delightful family, talking of 
 them and of the changes time had wrought. 
 
 On the porch, in easy chairs, two old people sat, and knowing 
 they would wonder why strangers should survey their house so intent- 
 ly you went up the steps and explained our interest in it. It was 
 evident they wanted company and urged us to rest awhile on the 
 porch. We soon learned that they came from New York State, — 
 that they had owned the house a year, — that they found it lonesome 
 but were there for the climate, — that they had always lived where 
 they had only three months of summer and now they had summer all 
 the year. 
 
 "In what part of New York State did you live where you only 
 had three months of summer?" you asked. 
 
 "In the Adirondack Mountains" was the answer. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Seventy-six 
 
iiinirmiiiiiniiiiiiiiniiiiiiiniiiMinirHniiMHnMiMiiuHtiniinniiiiiiniiiiiniiiiiitimiiiiiniNiiiitnintiiHiiniHniuniiininniiiiniiiHniniiitniiiuniiiniiiiiiiiiiuminiiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 niuiitiMiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiininiiiininiiiiiiUMiiunnniiniinininniiiiliiiliiiiimiiiiiiiitiiHUiiMniiniiiininiiiinunnniHUiiiiuiiuinnininininniiMiiiiuinininMniiiiiiiii^ 
 
 Through the conversation that followed we learned that Paul 
 Smith had bought the Nordhoff home. 
 
 And who was Paul Smith I hear my California reader ask. 
 
 Paul Smith was born in the Adirondack Mountains and was a 
 guide from boyhood. He was frugal, saved his money and in time 
 bought a few acres of land and built a small house of entertainment. 
 He prospered, the acres grew, the house and cottages grew until Paul 
 Smith had the largest and most popular resort, of the many in that 
 beautiful mountain region. 
 
 When he heard of our old home in Central New York and that 
 we knew his place and all the country around he was indeed an over- 
 joyed man. 
 
 We told him of our delight in drifting in a row boat down the 
 little river where the white water lilies grew along both banks ; of one 
 long June day when we had made the circle of lakes in his neighbor- 
 hood by carry — starting from the St. Regis Lake near his house in a 
 canoe, with a guide who rowed the boat and carried it on his shoulders 
 between the lakes; of being there one Sunday and seeing the people 
 come by boat from near-by camps to morning service in the little 
 chapel that had been built by summer visitors, and hOw pretty and 
 interesting it all was, and when we came away you said, 
 
 "Well, it is a strange, old World! To think of Paul Smith and 
 his wife settled in the Nordhoff home!" 
 
 We spent two weeks with friends in Santa Barbara and reached 
 San Francisco and the Fairmont Hotel the twelfth of December. 
 The winter was a happy one seeing much of our friends and enjoying 
 the bonhomie that pervades California life. My diary recorded an 
 inch of snow February 26, 1911, to the delight of small boys who 
 made pedestrians and trolley cars targets for snow balling. 
 
 The first of June we reached our old home in Central New York, 
 and November 18, 1911, a cold, bleak, blustering day, we sailed from 
 New York on the Steamer Caronia for Europe. Twenty-four hours 
 later we ran into smooth seas and mild air. We had agreeable people 
 as deck and table companions, and the days passed delightfully. 
 
 On the morning of the 25th the mountainous island of Madeira 
 was before us and at noon we were at anchor in the Bay of Funchal. 
 The view from the Steamer's deck was extremely beautiful. In the 
 midst of rich, tropical vegetation, a white city on a curving beach 
 stretched over a plain and up the gentle slopes of surrounding hills. 
 Beyond the hills mountain ranges rose one above another until the 
 summits were lost in mist. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Seventy-seven 
 
wniimiinniiiiiiMiiiiimiiHiMHHiinniniiiiMniitniiiniHtmimimimnmniiiinrimiiiHuinMiiniiiiimrmiHiHinitriimiiiiitiiiiiiimHiiriiiiiiiiiirniHMiimiiiiinniiiiiiiiiiiiHtm^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 'iminiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiinHniiniiiiiHiiiiinHiniiiitiitiiiiiiininiiniiiiiiHnitiHiMinitiiiiHiiiiiHiiiiiiHiimiiiMiMMiiiiiHiiiiiiinniiiininiiiiiiiniiiHiiMnitiiMiiHi^ 
 
 We went ashore in a launch and outside the dock enclosure, 
 found carros, the quaintest, most unique and picturesque of convey- 
 ances awaiting the passengers. Wicker work vehicles, with two seats 
 holding four people facing each other, mounted on runners, covered 
 and hung with bright-colored curtains and drawn by large bullocks 
 with a man and boy in charge of each team. 
 
 Into one of the gayest of the fantastic carros, we, with two 
 ship-companions took our seats. The driver, with a loud shout, prod- 
 ded his bullocks with an iron-pointed stick and the boy at their heads 
 guided them by leather thongs attached to their horns. A long 
 grease-soaked bag was hung over the pole and at short intervals the 
 driver ran ahead and threw it across the road to oil the runners. The 
 streets were paved with small cobblestones over which the carro 
 slipped and jolted with an extra jolt when we crossed the greasy bag. 
 
 The Caronia's passengers made the shopping street lively and 
 left the merchants with smiling faces, buying freely of Madeira 
 specialties; inlaid work, wine, embroidery and selecting for shipment 
 pieces of wicker work, osier qt ratan, — baskets, chairs, tables and 
 settees. 
 
 From the tree-shaded shopping street our carro took us to the 
 feniculaire up which we rode to Reid's Hotel. House, views and 
 garden were alike delightful. Flowers, orange groves, rows of 
 banana trees, latticed arbors and fountains. By a winding path 
 through the Hotel grounds we reached the Mount Church, where, 
 from the terrace, 2,200 feet above the sea, we had a glorious view of 
 the country, Funchal and the bay. Near the church was the starting 
 place for our toboggan ride. The "Mount sleds" were of wicker, 
 padded and cushioned, seating two persons, each guided by two men 
 with long poles. 
 
 The road before us was straight, cobble-paved and frightfully 
 steep. The sensation in making the rapid descent was like riding on 
 the down grade of a switchback railway. How the men kept abreast 
 of the sleds and guided them in a direct line was a mystery. 
 
 When we started I held my breath and clutched your arm, nor 
 did I relax my tension or my grip, until we reached the foot of the 
 mountain; then you said, 
 
 "I never knew you to be so timid. I am glad you did not scream 
 as so many women did." 
 
 In returning to the harbor we crossed a square with a fountain 
 in the center, where women with earthen jars on their heads had come 
 for water. It was a picturesque sight in the fading light of day, to 
 
 Page Two Hundred Seventy-eight 
 
(inriiiiiininiiiiiiiiiiiininiiinMiiininininitMUitiiiiiiiiiiiiininiiuuuuuiililUHWUiuiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirinuniiiiiiiiiiiuiiuiiiiiiiiiuiniiiiiiiinini^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iMuniiiiiniiniiiiuiiiniiniHiniuiniuiMiniiiiinMuuiiiiiiiiiiininiiiiinmiiiiiiiiiiiuitiiiniiiniiiiniiiHiiiiiiinininiiuiHiiiiimiiiinuiiiiiiinniinniiiHiiiinitn 
 
 see them grouped about the fountain and moving through the square. 
 
 The next morning, we went ashore with the first launch that left 
 the ship. We had planned to go among the hills and chose our 
 bullocks with great care; a handsome pair with tiny, tinkling bells 
 around their necks. 
 
 A CARRO 
 
 I We Chose Our Bullocks with Great Care Because We Were Going Among the Hills. 
 
 1 
 
 We had a glorious drive past hotels and villas, inland and on 
 bluffs overhanging the sea. The houses were very pretty with ver- 
 andas screened by flowering vines, palm trees waving over them and 
 terraced gardens that were full of bloom. Roses in great variety, 
 tropical morning glories of wondrous hue, geranium in trees with large 
 brilliant flowers, immense beds of violets, blue, white and yellow, poin- 
 settia, begonia and bougainvillea, orange and lemon trees. Many 
 villas with extensive grounds had fig and banana trees, guavas, sugar- 
 cane and the tropical pawpaw and cherimoya; other villas were 
 enclosed by high walls hiding from us, on our low seats all but the 
 tops of trees. 
 
 We were passing one of these unfriendly places when the 
 entrance gate opened and a carro drove out. Nothing could have 
 given us greater pleasure than that private carro with bright-figured 
 silk curtains parted wide, holding three pretty young girls and 
 their chaperone. It was only a glimpse but indelibly fixed, of three 
 slight figures attired in white, with dark, languishing eyes and hair 
 falling loose over their shoulders. 
 
 At four o'clock that afternoon the Caronia sailed from Funchal 
 
 Page Two Hundred Seventy-nine 
 
•nmHiiiuuiiiiiiiiiniinunitnitiiiiiiintiinnniMiitniiiiiintiiiiiiinniiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiHiniiiiniiiiiiHinnriniiiitiniiuiinntiiniHiHiiiiiiiiiiiinuniniHiiiiiiiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 •iiuiiiHHiiiiiiiiiiiii I iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuniii iiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiniiniiiiii iiiiiiiiii iiiiiiimiiiiiiHm 
 
 Bay and early on the morning of the 28th we were at Gibraltar. We 
 had made many visits there; had been through the vast galleries cut 
 in the solid mountain rock of the fortress with countless casemated 
 batteries; had seen the beautiful residences and charming gardens, 
 and the display of Oriental merchandise in the shops; and had often 
 watched the red-coated British soldiers marching to the music of fife 
 and drum down the one long street to the waterfront, where, as the 
 sun went down and the canon boomed, they locked the city gates. 
 
 There were many Moors about the landing place and I almost 
 envied the enthusiasm of those who looked upon the picturesque 
 beings for the first time. 
 
 We left Gibraltar in the evening and on the 30th were in the 
 Bay of Algiers. Under the early morning light the houses rising in 
 terraces on the slope of a steep hill crowned by a magnificent castle 
 were dazzling in their whiteness. 
 
 We went ashore on a pontoon bridge and found a large part of 
 the City very attractive and thoroughly French in aspect. We had 
 a delightful drive on the hills. Many of the charming villas that we 
 saw were Moorish in design almost buried amid the orange and palm 
 trees, and the views were extended and beautiful. We went through 
 the Winter Palace, residence of the former Dey of Algiers. The 
 Moorish rooms were rich in decoration, — a double door of exquisite 
 workmanship divided the abode of the wives, from the harem. 
 
 In the native quarter the steep streets, swarming with Arabs and 
 Moors, were like tunnels; the roofs of the houses nearly met over- 
 head and dirty, smelly water trickled between the cobblestones of the 
 pavement. In going up one of those unsanitary alleys single file, 
 one of our party wanted a picture of a patriarchal looking Arab and 
 asked me to stand still a moment while he adjusted his kodak. When 
 I stepped forward and the patriarch saw the camera, he gave an un- 
 earthly yell and with upraised stick came tottering towards the 
 oifender. All the natives around took up the hue and cry, hooted at 
 us and shook their clenched fists. We got out of that alley wdth all 
 the speed possible, and learned later that Arabs never pose for pic- 
 tures, believing that the soul is taken away with the likeness. 
 
 The veiled women of Algiers were hideous, in their loose, shape- 
 less, white blouses, and baggy, white Turkish trousers, all very much 
 in need of soap and water. 
 
 At four in the afternoon we sailed from Algiers and on the 
 morning of December second were at anchor in the harbor of Ville- 
 franche. A few hours later we were in our old quarters at Nice, in 
 
 Page Two Hundred Eighty 
 
iiiiinuHiiniuiinuiHiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiniiiiiiiiNiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinitnniinmiinnmtniiHiiniiiiimnniiiiittiiiiininiiuittiHniuiiinnuniiiitintiniiiiu^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 uniHimMniiiHnniniiunniJiiiiiiiiiiiiiMniiiMiiiinnnniiiinMinniMiiiniiiinHiiiiiiiuiHiiinnnmnuiiuimiuiHiitiiiuuiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiMiniMiiiiniiiiiiiiniiiiiiiMiiii^ 
 
 the midst of the friendly, f amihar set, ready to take up the pleasant, 
 easy-going life of former seasons. 
 
 The middle of March found us in Rome where we met old-time 
 California friends whose company added much to our pleasure. Ten 
 years before, in the month of March, we had heard at the Argentina 
 Theater, Rossini's Stabat Mater delightfully rendered by an orchestra 
 of eighty, a chorus of three hundred, and fine soloists, all led by the 
 famous Father Hartman. 
 
 Seeing Rossini's Stabat Mater advertised and thinking to enjoy 
 another musical treat, we suggested that our friends should join us 
 and told them of our former experience. We all came away before 
 the end of a most dreary performance, and well I remember how 
 crest-fallen you and I felt. 
 
 We enjoyed seeing the many objects of interest and beauty that 
 former visits had made familiar. In my diary I read, "The 27th 
 spent at Hadrian's Villa, the waterfalls of Tivoli, and the Villa 
 d'Este was a red-letter day," and there between the pages of my 
 book, Dear Heart of mine, lies the little bunch of flowers you gath- 
 ered in the charming grounds of Hadrian's Villa, and a leaf of laurel, 
 beloved by the ancients, that you picked from a noble tree standing 
 in the midst of the terraces and fountains and tall cypress trees of 
 the Villa d'Este. 
 
 We left Rome early in April. On both banks of the Tiber, 
 Judas trees, growing wild, were in full bloom, and oxen grazing in 
 the fields had handsome, wonderful, long horns. 
 
 We stopped at Siena to see the Cathedral, and the beautiful old 
 frescoes in the Library. 
 
 We were interested in the trolley cars that carried us up and 
 down the narrow, hilly streets, with neither rails nor poles,, the wires 
 being held in place by supporting wires fastened to the houses. 
 
 Upon reaching Florence we applied at eight hotels before finding 
 accommodations. That was one of the trials when the tide of travel 
 was at the flood. We had experienced it in Rome, in London and 
 Paris. Driving from one hotel to another — exhausting those men- 
 tioned by Baedeker, then trying those recommended by the cabman. 
 We once reached Munich 11 o'clock at night and went to the Hotel 
 of Four Seasons — only an attic room to be had — ^we drove from place 
 to place, then in fear and trembling lest some one had the attic room, 
 returned to the Four Seasons Hotel. From the lift we went up a 
 short flight of stairs to a good sized room with three small dormer 
 windows. It was quiet and comfortable and so moderate in price that 
 we remained in it during our stay of ten days. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Eighty-one 
 
4HiiiiiniiriiHiMiiiiuuiniMiHiiiuiMiiiiiuuiiiuniinnniuiinniiMiniiiiiiiiMunuutuuiiuiiiruiiiuiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiuiniiuiiiuiiinMtiumiiiiiiiuuiiiinuiuiii 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 'inHiiiiiuiiiiuHiHiiiuMiiiuiiiiiHuniuiiiHiiiiiiiiinuiniNuiiuiuiMuiiiiiuiuiMUUiiuuiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiMHiiiiuiiHiiiiunninuiunnmiiiuiMMniiniiiuiiniinin 
 
 In Florence we had a week of pictures and sculpture and cold, 
 raw, nasty weather; then to the Lake of Como where the nightingales 
 were in full song and the beautiful rhododendron trees in full bloom. 
 Two happy days, then drizzling rain and back we went to Milan. 
 
 We spent several rainy days looking at pictures and the Cathed- 
 ral, and with a promise of clear skies went to the Lake of Garda. 
 The scenery was grand; the mountains lofty, and the rocky, wooded 
 islands beautiful and picturesque, but we shivered on the deck of the 
 little boat and were glad to go ashore at Gardone. The next morn- 
 ing, under watery sunshine, with a cold wind, we completed the 
 circuit of the lake and on the first day of May reached Venice. 
 
 There in a gondola, near the gardens we loved, we sunned, and 
 warmed, and thawed ourselves out. Warmth is life, you said again 
 and again as we basked in the ardent rays of the May-day sun. We 
 had ten delightful days, and as many delightful evenings in the 
 Piazza of St. Marks strolling in the arcades, eating ices at Florians 
 and enjoying the music of a large military band; then through the 
 Tyrol we went to Innsbruck. 
 
 Sunday morning in the congregation of the Hofkircke were our 
 California friends, last seen in Florence. When the service was over 
 we sat with them in a charming park and listened to the blackbirds 
 singing in the trees and two days later, a party of six, we journeyed 
 on to Munich; and how lovely Munich was! the streets bright with 
 pink and white alternating bloom of horse chestnut trees, and the 
 beautiful fountains playing, plashing and sparkling in the sun. 
 
 Leisurely we enjoyed the magnificent art treasures of the City 
 and at the famous Hoffbrau and Liirven Brau we ate pretzels, drank 
 beer and listened to the music. 
 
 From Munich to Salzburg, then driven by persistent rain we 
 went on to Vienna. 
 
 We were located near, and in sight of St. Stephen's Cathedral 
 and day after day we saw a succession of pretty and interesting pic- 
 tures. In the vast, solemn, grand interior of St. Stephens' groups 
 of children, the girls in purest white, were being confirmed, and a 
 Cardinal in scarlet, follov/ed by Bishops and Priests could frequently 
 be seen in the dim, religious light moving from one group to another. 
 The streets leading to the Church were full of children in confirma- 
 tion dress ; the wealthy in flower-decked carriages or autos ; the others 
 walking, — often alas! the little white-slippered feet suffered sadly 
 from the drizzling rain and muddy streets. 
 
 On a previous visit we had seen in Vienna a ballet that appealed 
 
 Page Two Hundred Eighty-two 
 
.iimiimtiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniitiiiriitiiiiiiiiiiiriiiiii iiiimniiiiitiiitiiiuiiiiiiiiitiiiininimiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiimtiuimtiiimitminiiiitiiiimm 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 miiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiliiiiriimiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiitiiriiiMiiiiiitiiiii iniiiiitiiriiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiii 
 
 to your imagination, and glad of the opportunity to see a similar 
 performance, our party went one evening to the splendid Royal 
 Opera House to witness the ballet of The Four Seasons of Life. 
 There was no pirouetting on the tips of the great toes — no abbrevi- 
 ated skirts. The beautiful music was by Shubert and the dancing, 
 quiet, graceful, rhythmic movement by sets of eight people at differ- 
 ent periods of life — childhood, youth and middle age. The costumes 
 were those of the past, the children very quaint and pretty. 
 
 In the last scene two old people, who had danced for us in their 
 youth, sat beside the glowing coals of the hearth, fondly gazing upon 
 their grandchildren as they danced, and the curtain rung down upon 
 a ballet unique and beautiful. 
 
 On the first day of June we were off on a three days excursion 
 to Budapest, through a highly cultivated country — time four hours. 
 Our hotel, the Bristol, was on the Franz- Joseph Quay, a magnificent 
 street skirting the river, one mile in length, to which no vehicles were 
 admitted. 
 
 It was the popular and favorite promenade and while we sat 
 under the trees and ate our dinner, the fashion and beauty of the 
 Hungarian capital passed in review before us. 
 
 Budapest and the Danube! a strikingly beautiful and pictures- 
 que City, and a grand, dignified River! Springing abruptly from the 
 stream to a great height, a rock crowned by the citadel. On the 
 opposite, elevated bank the Royal Palace rising majestically from 
 its terraces and trees. A superb Opera House and splendid public 
 structures with Corinthian columns of different colored marbles. 
 Chateaux on the summits of hills, tree-shaded streets, statues, parks, 
 fountains and great fleets of boats on the broad bosom of the River. 
 
 We walked over the imposing suspension bridge guarded at 
 either end by two stone lions of colossal size, gained the heights above 
 by a lift, saw the quaint Old Town Hall, a beautiful figure fountain, 
 and had many lovely views. Then up the Danube by boat to 
 Margaretta Island, converted into a large, popular pleasure ground 
 — charming and interesting. 
 
 Our rooms at the Bristol Hotel were delightful, with windows 
 looking on the river, the bridges spanning it, and the Royal Palace 
 on the opposite bank. Our breakfasts and dinners on the promenade 
 we long remembered — ^^also the little notice posted near the elevator, 
 "By order of the Police, guests are not allowed to use the lift in 
 going down." We were all on the third floor and often pushed the 
 button and waited for some response to our call, but none ever came. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Eighty-three 
 
miiiiiiinnMinnniniiniitiiiiiininnMiininnuMiiMinMnnninniiiiniiiiiiiniMiiiniiiiuHimniininnMniiiiiiiiiMniiuiitiiMinninminiMiiiimniniiiiimiinniiiniitniuiiiiHniiinin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 <iiHuinNniiHuiniiiiiiiiriiHiiiiiiiiiijiiiiHnnuniiinHniumiuiiimiiiiiiuiiuiiiiiiimiiimiinuiiiiiiiiiuiniiiiuiuiiHiiiimminiumiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniui^ 
 
 Leaving Budapest we drove to the station by way of Andrassy 
 Street, where many wealthy and titled Hungarians had their hand- 
 some homes — among them we saw that of the American heiress, 
 Gladys Vanderbilt, now Countess — 
 
 June sixth the festival of Corpus Christi occurred, and what a 
 procession it was, that we saw moving to and from St. Stephen's 
 Cathedral — so long, so brilliant, so wonderful! Austrian and Hun- 
 garian nobles. State officials. Army and Navy officers, all in gorgeous 
 uniforms, joining the Cardinal, Bishops and Priests in a procession 
 through the principal streets — all on foot, all bare-headed, from the 
 Crown Prince to the Acolytes that swung the censers of burning 
 incense. Bands of music and choristers enlivened the beautiful 
 pageant. At the very end came the Bitter Knights, mounted on high- 
 stepping, white horses, mantles of leopard skin falling from their left 
 shoulders and uniforms of scarlet and gold that were fairly dazzling 
 in their brilliancy. 
 
 Our next stopping place was Carlsbad, our friends going by 
 way of Prague and we by a shorter route, as we had seen the towers 
 and spires and domes of the Bohemian capital, the palaces and 
 gardens of the old aristocracy, the narrow streets lined by tall, 
 quaint, old houses, the solid silver monument of St. Nepomuk, the 
 patron Saint, and had walked over the old Bridge — the Karlsbriicke 
 adorned by statues and groups of Saints. 
 
 We spent a month at Carlsbad drinking the waters to the strains 
 of music at an early morning hour, eating our meals to the strains of 
 music, under the trees when it did not rain, and taking long walks 
 in the narrow, pretty valley, or on the paths of wooded hills when 
 weather permitted. At Carlsbad our enjoyable little party disbanded 
 as their plans and ours for the summer were not the same. 
 
 We went to Dresden and from there to Berlin. The weather 
 was uncomfortably warm and although the Bristol Hotel on Unter 
 den Linden was delightful, for three successive evenings we went 
 with thousands to the Zoological Gardens for dinner. The grounds 
 were beautiful and extensive. Two large, excellent bands furnished 
 music and rows of seats provided comfort and rest. We strolled 
 from one music stand to the other, wherever a number on the pro- 
 gram most attracted us. One evening we heard a fanfare of twenty- 
 four trumpets that was thrilHng in effect. 
 
 From Berlin to Hanover, a beautiful, new city remarkable for 
 the original architecture of many of its buildings. The Old City Hall 
 and two quaint, old churches spoke eloquently of a picturesque past. 
 
 Page Two Hundred Eighty-four 
 
MimimiiiiiininiiinnnHitiiiiiiniiiiniiintiiitiniiiiiiriirnrriiirinimiiimimniniiiiiininimniiiMiiiiiiniiminiimiiiiiimiiniiniiiiiimiiininniiiniiiHiHimiiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iMuiiiiniiHimjiiiinniiiiiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiHiiiMnjiinriitinniuiiiiimiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiininiinuriitiMiinininiiiMiiitiiniiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMitMtim 
 
 Magnificent promenades and avenues of fine linden trees made the 
 city delightful. 
 
 Interwoven with memories of Hanover is the following: Going 
 into the breakfast room at Kasten's Hotel we were given a table 
 beside a family party — presumably, father, mother and several half- 
 grown children. No attention was paid to us until our breakfast 
 came and we began to eat — then all the party stared; the father and 
 mother furtively; the children boldly. You ate on, undisturbed, but 
 I was annoyed. The waiter was hovering about taking that mild 
 interest in our appetites that waiters seem to feel, and I asked him, 
 
 "Can you tell me why those people look at us in that rude way?" 
 
 "Yes," he replied, "it is seeing you eat your eggs out of the 
 shell." Then he added apologetically, "They come from the country." 
 
 To Hamburg and the familiar Hamburger Hof, looking out on 
 the familiar Basin. The heat was torrid. We spent our days on the 
 little steamers that plied around the Basin but even on the water, 
 in motion, the air was stagnant. On the third morning, weary from 
 the heat, you said, 
 
 "This is weather Sir Walter Scott called, fit only for flies" — 
 after a pause, "Let us give up the Continent and go to England; 
 conditions may be better there." 
 
 We went to a Booking Office, found that the President Grant 
 sailed the following morning from Hamburg's port, Cuxhaven, and 
 engaged passage. In the night a violent storm of thunder, lightning, 
 rain and hail so lowered the temperature that we left the Hotel in 
 heavy wraps. 
 
 We reached Southampton at midnight and after resting a day 
 journeyed on, stopping at Salisbury to see the Cathedral with hand- 
 some spire, the highest in England; also the Exeter Cathedral — an 
 exquisite facade and beautiful interior. One of the massive towers 
 held the great bell, "Tom of Exeter," weighing 12,500 pounds. 
 
 What a happy day we had. Dear Heart, both so glad to be again 
 in England. As we rolled along over the lovely country, bright with 
 poppies and cornflowers we talked of the English Cathedrals we had 
 seen; of York, Worceseter and Lincoln, of Wells, Ely, Bath and 
 Gloucester, of the "Grey Towers of Durham," of Canterbury and 
 Westminster Abbey; of Tinten Abbey and the wall flowers that 
 grew in profusion among the ruins, and of the dear, chatty old lady — 
 so like Queen Victoria — who served us with such good tea and bread 
 and butter after our scramble up and down the crumbling, flower- 
 decked walls; — and of lovely Fountains Abbey, the most romantic 
 
 Page Two Hundred Eighty-five 
 
itiUHiHuiumiuiiHmHMinMnuiiiiiuiiMiiiiiiniuiiinuiiiiiiHniiHiiiiiiimniimiiHiiniinmiiiiuiiiiiiiiiHiiiiniiiMiiimiiiiNiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiHiMiiiiiinNiiin 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 uiHiiiiiitiiiiiiuiiiiHiiiiiiiiniiinnniuiiHiiiHiiiiuiiiiMiHuuiiniiuiiiHHiiuiUMiiimiiHmiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiiiiniMiiiininiiiinnniiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiHniiiiiiiiiniinHiiniii^ 
 
 and picturesque of all the ruined Abbeys of England; and when we 
 reached what Kingsley calls in Westward Ho "the little, white town 
 of Bideford" we left the train and went to the Royal Hotel, a hand- 
 some house with a lobby ceiling of oak, beautifully carved. In our 
 after dinner stroll we saw a statue of Kingsley and several guns of 
 the Spanish Armada long submerged and buried in the sand. 
 
 The next day in a pony carriage we went to Clovelly. The coun- 
 try was Uke a park and the three mile "Hobby Drive" through 
 private grounds, a delight. Charming views, avenues of trees arching 
 overhead and singing over its pebbles a little brook with banks of 
 moss and ferns. 
 
 In all the World nothing could be prettier, quainter or more 
 picturesque than Clovelly. A narrow, richly-wooded ravine, with a 
 broad stairway descending 300 feet to the sea. On each side, clinging 
 and climbing, small, white houses with green doors and latticed win- 
 dows and mites of gardens full of sweet scented flowers. 
 
 At one of the many gardens where tea was served we had our 
 lunch with delicious strawberries and Devonshire cream. Far below 
 was the sea and the fishing boats, and going up and down the street 
 were donkeys, natives, artists, and visitors for a few short hours like 
 ourselves. 
 
 We spent a week on the delightful Devonshire coast in lovely 
 places with charming walks along the rocky headlands and beside 
 little rivers running to the sea, — in woodlands and among the heath- 
 ery hills, then went up to London. 
 
 Lingering over our breakfast at the Hotel Metropole one sultry 
 August morning you suggested going to Edinburgh. I gladly 
 assented and in a few days we were off. 
 
 In a large room at the Royal Hotel — that we had twice occupied, 
 with windows looking on Princes Street and the Scott Monument, we 
 settled happily down. 
 
 We visited all our favorite haunts and I had the great pleasure 
 of hearing bag-pipes to my heart's content where at open air concerts 
 on Princes Street, after every number by the band, twelve pipers 
 blew their pipes. We heard the music played at weddings, and the 
 music played at funerals, the pibrochs, and the famous Black Watch 
 when the wild, weird, tempestuous skirl of the pipes thrilled one 
 through and through. 
 
 You had often expressed the wish to see St. Mary's Loch, the 
 Yarrow, and Tibbie Shiels Inn. The former because of Wordsworth's 
 poems, the latter from association with Scott, Hogg and Wilson, so 
 
 Page Two Hundred Eighty-six 
 
•iHimnMiitiitiininiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiMiiitiniiiiiniiiiuHiMiiiiiiiiuHniiiiiiitiimiiimiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiuuiimiiHiiiiiiiMininiiiiiiiniiiniiiiitiiiiiniiiiiiiiMiuuiii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiiiiiiiniininniiMNiiiiniiiMiiniinMnninMiiiiiiniinininiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimimiiiiiiiiinniiiiniiniiiiitiiniHnHiMiiniiHuiiitiiiiinniHiinniiiiiiiii^ 
 
 when we left Edinburgh we went to the pretty Scotch village of 
 Selkirk and from there by motor-bus thirteen miles up the lovely 
 valley of the Yarrow and along the finely- wooded banks of the Lake 
 to the Inn. It was a cold, raw day and the water was rough so we 
 did not see Wordsworth's swan, "Float double, swan and shadow." 
 
 Adjoining the Old Inn a large house for the accommodation of 
 tourists had been built. There, cold and hungry, at a very long table 
 we had a poor, very short lunch. 
 
 Tibbie Shiel's Inn was a queer, old-fashioned place. All our 
 interest centered in the one room where Sir Walter Scott, the Ettrick 
 Shepherd and Christopher North so often met. A large, rude room 
 with small, calico-curtained windows, a round table and rush-bottomed 
 chairs. Several openings in the wooden walls, each large enough to 
 hold a low bed. An open fireplace with an iron crane and a smoked- 
 black teakettle hanging from it. Two small cupboards let into the 
 wall, one containing dishes, the other glasses and a big, black bottle. 
 It was a curious and interesting room in which no change had been 
 made since the days — and nights — of that memorable trio. 
 
 We drove down the Valley of the Tweed from Selkirk to Gala- 
 shiels; slowly and with frequent stops as we passed Abbotsford. 
 Years before we had seen the interior of the stately, picturesque 
 house ; now we were content to look at it across the river and the lawn. 
 
 Back in London, the excellent Hotel Metropole with crowds 
 coming and going seemed far from restful. Hoping for more quiet, 
 we took rooms in Mayfair, just off Piccadilly. The location, near the 
 park, Berkeley Square and the old, aristocratic homes was delightful. 
 Each morning the lady of the house came to take our order for 
 dinner and to ask if there would be guests. 
 
 Everything was agreeable and satisfactory with one exception. 
 We had a butler, a serious, dignified man grown gray in the service. 
 It was not his fault that he wore upon my nerves, but he did. He 
 showed disappointment because I insisted upon pouring the tea, and 
 very much aggrieved that he could not add the cream and drop in the 
 sugar. For three weeks he never ceased trying to forestall me in 
 filling or re-filling the tea cups. His duty, as he saw it, and my 
 pleasure could not be reconciled — and the breakfasts were always a 
 struggle. 
 
 Our Californian friends had been some time in London. We 
 had many delightful excursions together but alas! they were home- 
 ward-bound, and when they left, London was dull and we wanted a 
 change; so we said good-by to Mayfair, went to Leamington, found 
 
 Page Two Hundred Eighty-seven 
 
iMimriiniiiiiiiiiinnniiHiHiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiinuiniiniiiiiiiiiirniimnMiiiiiiiiiuiiiinnitmmiiimiMiiinininimimMirtnrniHiiimiiiiniiiiMiiiinnniimMiiniiii^^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 itiiiinniiiiNiininirinniiiiiMiiiiiiiiniiniiiHiMnniiHiuiiuiiiuniiiiiiiiniiiinMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiininniiiiiiriiiiMiiiiiiiiinniiiiinnnniiiiiiiinnrnniiMmiiiiniinHimMiiini^ 
 
 the old quarters vacant, that we had occupied many times — drawing- 
 room, dinin groom, and bedroom on second floor — did our own 
 marketing and were waited upon by a young, rosy-cheeked girl. 
 
 In the old watering place, a fine, old oak surrounded by an iron 
 railing bears a tablet stating that the tree marks the very center of 
 England, and in all England nothing could be more beautiful and 
 interesting than the surrounding country we so much enjoyed. 
 
 Time and again we had gone by tally-ho coach to Stratford on 
 Avon, to Kenilworth and Stoneleigh Abbey, and had taken day after 
 day the charming walks Hawthorne wrote of so pleasantly. To War- 
 wick Castle, that picturesque pile, often going in to see the beautiful 
 pictures ; often taking tea at one of the quaint, little tea houses in the 
 medieval town, — or across the meadows to Guy's Cliff where an old 
 miU had ground wheat into flour for four centuries and was still 
 at work — then always rest on the bench under the spreading beech 
 tree watching the fish in the weir and the deer in the park of an 
 English peer's ancestral home, — or we idled in the pump-room gar- 
 dens where a band played in the afternoons; or strolled in the 
 pleasant Holly Walk that led to Hawthorne Crescent, where in a 
 homelike house Hawthorne spent his summer vacations during the 
 years when he was Consul to Liverpool. 
 
 From Leamington we returned to London and in October went 
 to Paris. 
 
 At intervals through the summer your health had given me great 
 anxiety. You never complained, were always cheerful and tried to 
 allay my fears. We had engaged our old quarters at Nice. As the 
 time for going drew near you became depressed and when you could 
 no longer persuade me that it was only my fancy you admitted that 
 you did not want to go to Nice, — ^that you wanted to go home. 
 
 Did you know, my Beloved, that the shadows were fast lengthen- 
 ing? and that your feet were already on the path that would lead 
 you away from me? Did you know? Did — you — know? 
 
 A few days later, October twenty-third, we sailed from Cher- 
 bourg on the staunch old steamer Oceanic, homeward bound. 
 
 At once you felt better physically and mentally; we had smooth 
 seas, agreeable table and deck companions, and in your words, as 
 pleasant a crossing as we had ever made. 
 
 When we reached the harbor of New York how good the Statue 
 of Liberty looked to us! and how beautiful the great skyscrapers! 
 Magnificent in their proportions ; picturesque in their irregularity and 
 studded with a myriad pin points of electric light in the afternoon of 
 
 Page Two Hundred Eighty-eight ' 
 
iiiijiniininnHinniiiiiiniininininininiiHfiininHiiiuuiintiiniiiiiiiniiiMininiiHiuMiiiiininuiiniiiiiiiitiiiniHininriMiHniiMiniHiiniiMHtniinuniniiiiiiiiniiuiniinniinininiiniiiiM 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 jiiiiiiiiiMNMuiiiiintiininiiiiininiiHniiiiiHiiHHiiiiiinuiiinniiiitimiminiiiiiuiiiniinMiiiiiniiHiuiniiiiiiiiMiiniuiiiininiuiiiinniiiiiiiiHiiiiiMninHiiniiinniutiininniiii^ 
 
 that short, autumn day. How often in voyaging back and forth we 
 had admired that wonderful skyline! always grand and impressive 
 whether seen through mist and rain; standing out against a clear, 
 blue sky, or in early evening like the vision of beauty that greeted us 
 on our last home-coming! 
 
 "O love! we two shall go no longer 
 To lands of summer across the sea." 
 
 We were both very happy to be again within the family circle, 
 and our Dear Ones so glad to have us. What a surprise we gave 
 them, and what a welcome they gave us, coming upon them almost as 
 though we had dropped from out the very skies. 
 
 You were so cheerful, and apparently so well; but we rather 
 dreaded the rigors of an Eastern winter, and in December, promising 
 to be back for the summer, we left New York and went to Southern 
 California. And there! — and then! — 
 
 Page Two Hundred Eighty-nine 
 
iiniiiiniiitiiiiiniiiHiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiniiinMiiiiiniiMniiiMinniiriiiiiniiinmiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiniiinimiHHiiinniimininiinniiiiiiiiiiHMMtiiininimitnniii^ 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 iiiiiniiiininniiMiiiHiimiiiiiiMiiiiiiiMMiinininiHiniiiMiniiMiiiiiiiiiitiiininiHmiiiHiiiimiiuiiininiiiiiuiHiiiMuuinmHiiiniuiiHiMiinuininniHimiiiiininiiiiimiimiuiniiiu 
 
 PART SIX 
 
 FONDLY and sadly I linger with you, my Beloved, over my 
 manuscript while yet it is my very own. Put between the two 
 covers of a book, these lines and pages will be mine no more; 
 — these lines and pages that have kept you so near to me that I 
 cannot bear to give them up. 
 
 "You have a treasure-house of happy memories richer than those 
 of any woman I have ever known." Thus wrote a friend when she 
 learned that you had left me ; — gone away ; — 
 
 "Taken the stars from the night; the sun from the day," 
 
 and left me alone with my memories. My Memories! the precious 
 possessions of my heart ! They come like a breath of air from a van- 
 ished World! They lie before me like the clear, fresh pages of an 
 open book ! They bring back for a fleeting moment now and then the 
 old feeling that life was such a beautiful thing! They bring the 
 reflected shadow of a joy that once was mine! They come from 
 recent years and from the far ofl" past ! They come from foreign and 
 from native lands! and often, oh, so often from the dear, old home; 
 the orchard trees, and the garden with its roses .... and then! the 
 day, when, 
 
 "Alone in that garden I walked in my pain, 
 O bloom again roses! O love come again; 
 Come back, my Beloved, I cried — but in vain. 
 Ah never — ^no, never." 
 
 That old place! not another like it in all the wide, wide World; 
 and the old, old-fashioned house! with its traditions and associations. 
 The rooms, individualized by family history and humanized by family 
 joys and sorrows; — ^^"the roofs that heard the earliest cry" of six 
 generations ; — 
 
 "Today 
 The old house wears an altered face 
 And shields a stranger race," 
 
 and the broad acres that only the red mens' feet had trod when they 
 came into possession of our ancestors are ours no longer. It is better 
 
 Page Two Hundred Ninety 
 
.iiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiiiiiiiHMiiiiMiiniiiiuiiiiinininiinniiiiinHiiiniinniiHiMiiMiMniiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiniinniiniiiiiiiniiiiiiiiitiinHiiiiiiiriniH 
 
 MEMORIES — SOME OF MANY 
 
 ■iiiiiuniuiniinuHiiiMiHniniiMiniiinHniiMiiuiiiniNiiiiuinininimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiminiuniuMiiiiuiiiHnfinniiiiiiiinniiiiniiniiHiHiiiHninHtiHiiniiiHMniininHiiiiniii^ 
 
 SO, since the changes wrought by Time had robbed the place of all 
 that made it dear, and left the old house lonely and forlorn; yet sad- 
 ness and regret will come at parting with what one day made for so 
 much happiness. 
 
 What I have written "is but a bubble on the stream, and al- 
 though it may catch the sunlight for a moment, yet it will soon float 
 down the swift-rushing current and be seen no more;" but if, my 
 Beloved, it helps to keep your memory green, it will not have been 
 written in vain. 
 
 It has been to me comfort and consolation. It has often brought 
 to my lonely heart the sensation of your invisible presence. 
 
 It has many times driven away, 
 
 "The sullen winds that blow 
 From the desolate shores of doubt." 
 
 And when I go forward to that final and unknown land, where all 
 the longing and yearning of this mortal life will be quieted, and all 
 the mystery of the life immortal solved; — with implicit faith in the 
 words of our Saviour, I go to prepare a place for you; — There, 
 Heart of my Heart and Soul of my Soul, 
 
 "The long, lone sorrow past 
 I shall find thee at last. 
 Sorrow past 
 Thee at last." 
 
 Page Two Hundred Ninety-one 
 
^«^CH BORROWED 
 ^« book is du 
 
 (Bl39s22)476 
 
^D 0/94 
 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY