X.

According to our itinerary we should have left Beyrout the 15th; but the running of the steamers had lately been changed; and we were obliged to wait until the 19th, giving us some eight days in Beyrout. But the American consul and our college friends made it so pleasant for us that the time passed very quickly.

Our party have avoided as far as possible travelling on the Sabbath. Only once before since we left have we encroached on holy time. When we left Port Saïd, we took steamer for Jaffa Sunday afternoon; and Sunday, the 19th, our steamer was to leave Beyrout for Athens at twelve o’clock. Rev. Mr. Horton of our party preached at nine in the morning to the college boys and others. Text, “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ.”

At 11.30 we were all on board the “Senegal,” a French steamer, four hundred and twenty feet long and 600 horse-power engines. It was the finest running boat we have yet had the privilege of travelling on. She runs through the blue waters of the Mediterranean like a duck, counting off about fifteen knots per hour. She is the personification of neatness, and the cuisine is excellent; and, after having so much Syrian and gum Arabic _table d’hôte_, we certainly enjoyed the French cooking. Many of our Beyrout friends came on board to bid us farewell; and, as we steamed out of the harbor, we could look back upon College Hill, and see the waving of handkerchiefs, which we returned as the last good-by.

We took a south-west course, and before sundown we were running along near the island of Cyprus. This island, one hundred or more miles long, is Turkish territory; but the English government has leased it, paying ninety thousand pounds per year. This was done as a military strategy. The English hold the north end of the Mediterranean with Gibraltar. The south end is held by this island. They keep a part of their navy and soldiers here, and can throw them very quickly into Egypt or anywhere in the Turkish provinces.

Monday morning the sun rose clear, a fresh breeze from the west, and the sea looked like watered silk, while our engines in their quiet way are pushing us through the blue waters. Everybody seems happy. You can have a cup of coffee from 7 to 9, and breakfast at 10, lunch at 1, dinner at 6, and tea and crackers at 8.30. Retire when you please.

About three o’clock in the afternoon we were coasting along the shore of Asia Minor. At our right the hills and mountains had thrust themselves, as it were, down into the sea, forming a promontory. Back in the distance could be seen the snow-capped mountains. The country looked rugged; but no doubt there were many fertile valleys and plains nestled among those rugged cliffs that stood ready to be the first to greet all mariners and passengers going up and down the Mediterranean.

Tuesday we are to pass the island of Rhodes. Finding the morning clear and bright with a smooth sea, about 9 A.M. we bear to the right, and run up into a beautiful bay, with hills and elevations on both sides of us, studded with trees and foliage of green. In some places the channel is quite narrow, reminding us of different places on the Hudson. About one hour’s sail, and we anchor at a modern-looking town of Vathy, on the island of Samos. Our steamer put off and takes on merchandise here, and will remain the rest of the day, giving us a chance to go ashore. No backsheesh will be called for here; for, as they say, every one is rich.

Samos is Turkish, but, like Lebanon, has a right to a Christian governor, the European powers dictating in the matter; and we see no mud houses and squalor that is seen in most of the Turkish provinces. It is said that they make the finest wine in the world, that being the main product. Our steamer is loading it by the quantity. They import as it were nothing, but export much. Hence we can understand how they grow wealthy. We take on three hundred and fifty casks that weigh almost a ton to a cask. We have wandered upon the side of the mountain, looked the people over, and talked with those that could talk English. We see no veiled women, the dress of all being quite American; and we are delighted with Vathy. The island of Samos, which is seventy miles in circumference, the people pay the Turkish government two thousand pounds a year for, and then run things as they please. A cannon was fired at sundown, and the sweet notes of the bugle sounded, notifying the people that twilight was soon to settle down upon them. There are forty thousand people on the island.

At 7.30 the “Senegal” weighed anchor, and headed her prow down the bay; and the crescent-shaped town that had climbed from the shore up the mountain a mile or more threw out its lights, and our farewell look at Vathy was a beautiful one, and will be long remembered.

Wednesday morning before we had left our cabin our steamer had cast anchor; and the jabbering of the native boatmen was all about as we hurried on deck, and found that we were in front of a town of some twenty thousand inhabitants, being the city of Smyrna. We have been sailing over some of the route that Paul went over when going up to Jerusalem. (See Acts xx.) John, in Revelation, speaks of Smyrna as having endured. (See Rev. ii. 8, 9.)

Smyrna stands next to Constantinople in commercial importance, being second in the Turkish empire. It has a fine harbor, buildings stretching along the bay for miles, then gradually rising back on the hills that line the coast. On the top of the hill are the ruins of an old stone castle or fort. South of this you will find the tomb of Polycarp, the first martyred bishop. Smyrna was once a walled city. The old ruined wall and stone aqueduct that formerly supplied the city with water are among the things of interest that you will want to look over. We find Smyrna remarkably neat for this country. Good water and plenty of it, and good sewerage.

The bazaars are far above the average of those we have seen since entering the Turkish territory. Many fine stores with many French goods in them are to be found here. There are two things here that are household words with us in America; that is, Smyrna rugs and figs. We have seen stacks of the former, and have had fine figs at our command. The American Board of Missions have a hold on the people here in Smyrna. Rev. Mr. Bartlett, who at one time preached at Morrisville, Vt., is at the head, with several helpers. The work is among the young. We have visited the mission, and the missionaries have called on us on board the “Senegal.”

The sultan of Turkey is strong in his Mohammedan belief; and he is watching the influence that true Christianity is having on his people with a jealous eye, and is bound to hold them with rods of iron.

Thursday morning we take small boats for the shore, and then take the street-cars down the bay for a mile, where we find a special train for Ephesus, some forty-eight miles. We take an easterly course, finding our way through the hills that line the shores of the Mediterranean, and soon begin to open out upon a broad plain. We first go through a place called Paradise; but we enter it through a large burying-ground, which seemed rather suggestive. But on we go; and the valley becomes miles in width, covered with fig trees, some olive vineyards, etc. Off at your right you will see trains of camels coming and returning to and from Smyrna, loaded with grain and merchandise from and for the interior. Farther on you will see large herds of sheep. From these come the wool for the Smyrna rugs.

After one and one-half hours of enjoyable riding, the hills and mountains that have guarded us on each side seemed to come together close to us, and form a gateway through which we pass, coming into a valley nearly surrounded by hills, where once was the great city of Ephesus, referred to in Acts xviii. 19. To-day there are only two or three hundred people. See what John says, Rev. ii. 4-10. But you can ride miles and over hundreds of acres, and see old ruins. One thing very peculiar is, as you go into the town, every old column and minaret seems to be topped out with a stork, standing there in its loneliness. The tip of the wings and tail is black, while the rest of the body is white.

The modern name of this place is Ayassacook. I think it ought to be Storkville. The nests of the storks are on these columns. A short distance west of this little village is quite an elevation, on which are the ruins of an old Roman castle. You ascend to that point, and you get a view of the whole valley. Down at the base on the south side are quite respectable ruins of an old mosque. A little farther on you will see men at work excavating, and it proves to be the site of that wonderful temple of Diana of the Ephesians.

They have decided to learn more of that building that Demetrius stirred up such a commotion about among the people, regarding the shrines of Diana, and are spending money in digging over the ruins. I have always admired the town clerk they had at that time, and looked about for some of his documents, but was not able to find them. His counsel, you will remember, was not to be rash. If Paul had done anything wrong, they had the law. He seemed to be level-headed. (See Acts xix. from 35th verse.)

From this elevation, looking west about two miles distant, you see the waters of the Mediterranean. Ephesus used to be a great seaport and commercial city; but Smyrna has stolen its thunder, and all this kind of traffic is at Smyrna to-day. Righteousness exalteth a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people. The best thing we saw at Ephesus was a comfortable little hotel where we went for lunch. The proprietor showed us his register for 1878, where General U. S. Grant had booked his name. He felt quite proud of having had so noted a guest.

3 P.M. found us back at Smyrna. At four we were steaming out of the bay. Friday about noon we reached Thessalonica, a town of a hundred and twenty thousand people, one-half Jews. It is beautiful for situation, forming a crescent around the bay. A portion of the place rises up to quite a height; yet there is much level or rolling land in and beyond the city; and it has an extra fine farming country back of it. The business is largely trade with the surrounding country. It has one cotton mill, and they would like a woollen mill to make flannel. Wool, cotton, and cereals are their main products. Our steamer remained at Thessalonica until Saturday morning. The Congregational party went ashore, and took carriages through the city, found many good buildings, thought it a comparatively neat town. We saw some native Albanians. They wore a white pleated skirt, very full, coming down about to the knees, reminding me of ballet girls.

The dress of the people of the country we have been travelling through the last six weeks has for its watchword “variety.” You see everything that fashion is heir to, colors vying with the rainbow; and you can be entertained at any time by standing on the corner of the street or sitting on your hotel piazza, and watch the surging crowds as they pass by.

Reaching Athens nearly finishes our travels on the Mediterranean, having been on her waters in all some fifteen days. She has behaved beautifully, though we understand she is capable of getting her back up and making things lively; but she has lately been on her good behavior, and passed us over her smooth waters, giving us a charming ride. At times we were out of sight of land, but usually we could see the foot of hills and mountains, sometimes towering so high as to hold the frost of winters firmly in their grasp. We have enjoyed many an hour on deck, watching the light shade to crimson, blue, gray, and green, changing like the kaleidoscope,--the brilliant rays of morning, the soft and beautiful shades of twilight. This and the pleasant chatting with those who but three months ago were strangers to us, but now are cherished friends,--all this environment rushes in upon us to fill the book of memory with a richness that will be a joy to us as time rolls on.

We have been sailing through the archipelago, and have passed the plains of Marathon, where the Athenians fought and won that terrible battle with great odds against them with Darius the Persian. Saturday night we were informed that we should reach the Piræus, which is the port of Athens, at five o’clock Sunday morning. Wishing to get a view of the harbor and city that was at one time the wonder of the world, I decided to be on deck at four o’clock. The boat proved to be an hour late. Therefore, I had a chance to enjoy the whole scene. When I reached deck, the hills on each side were gathering down upon us; but erelong we spied in the distance the Acropolis with its ragged top, standing back from the shore, but showing us the location of Socrates’s home. Soon on the shore we could see tall chimneys and a cluster of buildings which proved to be the Piræus. The “Senegal” steamed up the harbor, and anchored not very far from shore. Boatmen were on hand, and men, women, and baggage were soon landed on _terra firma_; and we soon found ourselves in some fine landaus, and were driven five miles over as fine a road as is usually found in any country. The cars run up to the city; but carriages seemed to be the order of the day, landing us at the Grand Hotel, where we found breakfast ready and everything more than satisfactory. Will give you a picture of Athens in my next letter.

LETTER FROM GREECE.

ATHENS, May 29, 1895.

The last port we left before reaching this place was on Turkish territory. The streets were full of Turkish trousers, turbans, and the fez, with all the brilliant colors that Persian dyes would make. But, when we reached the Piræus, a place of three thousand nine hundred people, which is the front door and vestibule of Athens, we found that the baggy Turkish trousers had wonderfully diminished in size. The brilliant colors had become sombre, the turbans and the fez had been laid away in the archives of the past, and the American hat is touched as you meet the people. For a little spice you would occasionally meet an Albanian with his white pleated skirt coming down to within some four inches of the knee, with tight leggings coming up as high as the law will allow. The full Grecian sleeves and waist trimmed with gold lace, the sleeves hanging down below the elbow, made a very jaunty suit,--something that will cause you to leave all the rest of mankind, and gaze till your curiosity is satisfied.

When we landed and met the people of this country, we noticed that the gesticulating, exciting motions we had been accustomed to were missing; but everything they said was Greek to us, and all we could say was nonentenday. However, we prefer the Athenians to the Turks and Syrians.

The Piræus is modern and full of thrift, has a fine harbor full of merchant vessels, and is doing a large inland business. In ancient times one of the old kings walled in the Piræus with Athens, running the walls from the coast up around Athens, making the two places one, although they are some four or five miles apart. As you take the drive up the valley from the Piræus, you will see the relics of the old walls. When you reach the city, you will find there is an old and new Athens. The historical and beautiful Athens was once the hub of the world. Art, science, literature, poetry, and sculpture were once centred here; and, as you walk about the city, you are constantly being reminded that the glory of these things has not entirely departed. From the ruins of the old temples they are digging up the Corinthian, Doric, and Ionic columns and architecture.

In the new and beautiful buildings this same style is being reproduced. This city reminds us of Rome in many things. Rome has one advantage; and that is an abundance of water, which Athens is not favored with. Statuary abounds in both cities. You will see Plato, Socrates, Demosthenes, and that class of men, sitting or standing in the public places or connected with the public buildings of Athens.

If you are going to look over the city, the first thing to do is to go with me to the Acropolis, the word meaning height of the city. Nature held out a helping hand to the kings, and threw up a conical hill some two hundred feet high, not round, but oblong. The top is of lime-rock or granite and flat, with a surface of some two acres, being precipitous except on the west side. The kings threw a wall around the edge of the top of this elevation, and on the top built the temples. The entrance on the west side was guarded by what is called Enneapzion Pilasgikon, or nine gates. This place became the home of the Athenian kings. Here they sat in judgment, and assembled their councils.

[Illustration: ACROPOLIS AT ATHENS.]

Later these were removed to the town, and the Acropolis devoted to the gods. These temples were at one time destroyed by the Persians, and were rebuilt in greater splendor than ever by Pericles. The Pantheon was its pride, and when at its best, with its white marble and gold, with the Erechtheion, was the glory of the city, and has gone into history as one of the wonders of the world. Its present destruction, with part of its temples standing and the ground strewn with broken columns, is due to an officer of a besieging army firing a bomb into a magazine of powder that was stored on the Acropolis.

As you stand there, looking down the bay, you see the Piræus. Beyond, some thirty miles, you see Acrocorinthus, showing the location of Corinth. As you turn and look south, at the foot of the hill is the theatre of Bacchus. This was without a covering; and the stage was at the bottom of the hill, while the seats were in amphitheatre style, coming up to the upright walls of the Acropolis. The seats were of stone. In the first rows were marble chairs for the great men of the nation. In the centre was a marble platform in which sat the king. The theatre would seat thirty thousand. At the right was a colonnade built, where they could go between the acts and promenade at pleasure. A little farther to the right was the Odeion, a small theatre built of stone in the same way, only it was covered.

We are now looking over old Athens. Much of it has been demolished and covered up, and has become a pasture for the goats. Looking west again a few hundred rods, you will see the hill of the Muses. As you commence to rise, the hill is a perpendicular rock. Into this rock there have been made prison rooms, with three doors to enter. Here was where Socrates was imprisoned, and ended his life by taking hemlock. On the top of this elevation is the tomb of Philopappos. Looking north-west only a short distance from the Acropolis is what was in ancient times and is now called the Areopagus, or Hill of Mars. Paul went on to Mars’ Hill. (See Acts xvii.) A few of us went there. The day we arrived being the Sabbath, the Rev. C. P. Mills, of Newburyport, read the last part of that chapter. It seemed like hearing direct from the author.

A little west of Mars’ Hill is another elevation, with stone steps leading up to it. Up those steps went Demosthenes, when he spoke to the people of Athens. As you stand on the Acropolis and view the landscape over, you can see in your mind’s eye those giants moving among the people, with ideas in advance of their time, which have rung down through the ages.

Turning around more to the north-west, looking down at the base of the Acropolis is where the markets were located, and where it is supposed Paul often went and proclaimed the Christian doctrine to the Athenians. A little beyond is the temple or tomb of Theseus, which is said to be the best preserved relic of old Athens, with its Ionic columns all intact.

We have been gazing mostly at our feet. Let us now take a sweep around the country. At the south some eight miles lies Mount Hymettus. From this section came the famous honey of Hymettus. We have had it on our table every day since we arrived. Around to the east is Mount Pentelikon. From these two mountains come the beautiful marble that formed the temples and buildings of old Athens, and the new city is indebted to those mountains for the beauty that attracts the stranger’s eye to-day. These mountains seem to encircle Athens, forming a beautiful background, standing as it were like guardians of her welfare.

Just east of the town is Mount Lykabettos, a small, conical hill, about six hundred feet high, on which is the chapel of St. George. This hill is very symmetrical, with green foliage two-thirds the way up. The other third is of lime-rock and granite, and with the white chapel on top is one of the first things the stranger will notice as he comes into the city. Before leaving the Acropolis, you will see beyond Mars’ Hill the hill of the Nymphs, on which is a beautiful observatory, built by the Baron Sina, of Vienna. He also gave the city a beautiful building called the Academy of Science, of which I will speak later.

From our standpoint we have a fine view of the new part of Athens. Away to the east it is beginning to climb up to Mount Lykabettos, and north it is stretching out across the plain with fine streets and avenues and foliage of green, making a pretty picture. Here we find a great many pepper-trees. Their beauty is known to every one that has ever seen them. The streets are nearly all macadamized, and would be a paradise for the cyclist. Let us now return to the Grand Hotel, standing on the Place de la Constitution, where you find all the best hotels of the city, as well as the king’s palace. Take a carriage, and go east by the palace, then south ten minutes, and you come to the Stadium. This is where in olden times they used to have their chariot and foot races, the throwing of trays, etc. Nature did her part in forming this institution and art the rest. It is a flat piece of ground of some two acres, with an embankment around it some twenty feet high, in the form of a horseshoe, being narrow at the heel, leaving a place to enter. Most of this was natural, though the heel seemed to have been fashioned by man.

This embankment formerly contained marble seats, and was capable of seating fifty thousand people. In some of Athens’s misfortunes and depressions these games were given up, and the marble carried away and used for other purposes. But the city has decided to renew those exhibitions, and are now putting in the marble seats. They believe it will attract tourists and draw a large number of people to the city.

At the end opposite the entrance is an underground passage-way leading to the outside of the embankment as well as outside the city. The victors returned to the city the way they came in, crowned with laurels while the vanquished went out through this tunnel, and never showed their faces in the city again. The Stadium will not be completed until next season. Therefore, we will retrace our steps, and take a drive down the Boulevard de l’ Université, and return on the Rue du Stade, two streets that run to and from the king’s palace, parallel with each other, lined with pepper-trees.

Here you will find some of the finest buildings in Athens. One of the first that will meet your eye is the Academy of Science, built by Baron Sina, of Vienna. This is of Pentelic marble, with Ionic colonnades and in classic Grecian style. As you enter to go up the broad marble steps and walk, you can, if you choose, be introduced to Plato sitting at your left and Socrates at your right. The marble and gold before you will thrill you with admiration. The group in the pediment of the central structure represents the birth of Athena. The gables are filled with statuary. As you enter the main hall, high up on the walls are beautiful paintings by Griepenkerl, of Vienna,--Prometheus lighting his torch in the presence of Athena, Prometheus breathing life into man in the presence of Athena, etc.

At the farther end of the hall stands Baron Sina. He must have been a fine subject to have operated upon; but, aside from that, the workmanship is exquisite, and will hold you spell-bound as you look upon it. It was executed, as was much of the other statuary, by Drosos. Beyond this building is the University of Athens, standing in its beauty and wonderful capacity, with sixty professors and some two thousand students.

It is organized on the German system, and is said to be doing fine work. It has a library of one hundred thousand volumes. In this section of the city is the museum, which it will be well for you to visit when you have time. It abounds with statuary, and much of it was very fine. Old Neptune attracted my attention as much as anything. He looked as though he had just come up out of Plymouth Pond, with his locks dripping, spear in his hand, and a big fish by his side.

We must hurry on, for it is time for lunch, but must call your attention to the Palace Olion built by Dr. Schliemann and now occupied by his widow, also on our return we might step into the House of Parliament, which is a stately-looking building, though the inside looks a little rusty.

Greece is poor, and has hard work to raise money enough to pay the interest on her debt. Dr. Schliemann, whose residence I have just made mention of, was the great explorer of the plains of Troy; and we expect to see much that he found there in the museum at Constantinople. While at Athens, we took a drive one afternoon to Eleusis, ten miles from Athens, going over what is called the sacred way.

Eleusis is a small town, mostly Albanians living there. It was the home of Æschylus, the earliest of the three great tragedians. When a little way out of the city, we stopped, and looked over the old olive-tree planted by Plato when he first began to teach at thirty years of age. This would make it over fifteen hundred years old. It had an immense hollow trunk, with a few limbs and sprouts growing, but it looked toothless, shrivelled, and shorn of its beauty. It has been grazed and barked by the wheel of time. The olive-tree has a wonderful tenacity for life, and when the funeral obsequies will be held over it is uncertain.

The ruins of the temple of mystery are at Eleusis, and in its day the temple must have been attractive and of great capacity. No one was ever allowed to enter or join the order that would divulge the tenets of the organization. Of course, the ladies would not care to become members.

If you wish for a charming drive, go to Eleusis. The last part of the drive as you go around the Bay of Eleusis is lovely. You are in plain view of the Bay of Salamis, where Xerxes, with his fifteen hundred war vessels, fought the Grecians, who had six hundred; and the old king had the satisfaction of sitting up on the shoulder of the mountain that comes down to the sea, and see his navy annihilated by the Grecians, although he had great advantage in numbers.

We returned to our hotel, having had a fine drive of twenty miles. No better roads can be found anywhere than about Athens. In the evening Mr. Cummer, of Michigan, one of our party, and myself went out and looked over the electric light station, and found Babcock boilers, Westinghouse engines, and Edison system all doing good work. They have commenced right by putting their wires all underground. Wages in this city for common laborers are $2.50 per month and board. We are pleased with Athens, but down goes my pen for this time.

Hope to be able to take you into Constantinople in a few days.

LETTER FROM CONSTANTINOPLE.

JUNE 5, 1895.

Wednesday, May 29, our steamer was to leave Athens, or the Bay of Piræus, at 7 P.M. for Constantinople, a sail of forty-five hours. It was an Austrian boat, the “Hungaria,” medium size, and not first-class. The cabins were for four instead of two, and the boat was packed from stem to stern. Therefore, the ladies and gentlemen were separated. I at once selected my quartette, and had it understood if any one became sonorous in the night he should be reported at once to the captain. We had on board counts and countesses, and people that never heard of a count, all nationalities mixed up together.

When we drove down from Athens and took small boats out to the steamer, the heavy black clouds were hanging on the mountains, and looked as though the breezes would be down upon us before morning.

However, in due time we were all packed away for a comfortable night; but early in the morning we found ourselves in the Ægean Sea, with high running billows, facing a gale. There were two men in our cabin that prided themselves on being good sailors. They walked the deck and dining-room of the “Normannia” every day when crossing the Atlantic; but Thursday, the 30th, it was too windy to be on deck, and the dining-room was anything but satisfactory. The bunks in the cabin seemed to be the only place of comfort in the boat. The ladies’ cabins were on deck, and they had a lively time. Some made their wills, others turned over their letters of credit for safe keeping, etc. However, the “Hungaria” kept on her course; and about 3 P.M. we left the boisterous sea to play havoc with others, and we were in the Dardanelles, where we found smoother waters, and the dining-room became a place of comfort, and the deck was filled with people.

In the evening our engine broke down, and detained us some three hours. It was lucky for us that it did not happen when on the sea.

The next morning we were passing the plains of Troy. Here was where the Greeks besieged the city, but could not take it until they played a shrewd game on the Trojans. They made an immense wooden horse, inside of which were some Greeks, then feigned a retreat. The Trojans came out to gather up what was left, and among other things drew into the city the wooden horse. In the night out came the Greeks, and opened the gates of the city. In came the Grecian army, and the thing was ended.

When we left the Dardanelles, we sailed into the Sea of Marmora, which extends to the Bosphorus. About noon the Marmora had narrowed down, the shore of Asia was on our right, and Europe on our left; and away in the distance at the left could be seen Constantinople, stretching along up the sea, domes and minarets by the hundred. The mosque Suleimon with her six minarets, and the S. Sophia with her dome piercing the sky one hundred and seventy-five feet, one hundred and eight feet at the base, occupying some fifty thousand square feet, are objects that will set the Yankee tongue in motion; and he wishes to know what those wonderful buildings are and where are the people that use them, but you can satisfy him by giving the name and promising to take him in later.

Constantinople lies on rolling land. In some places she goes up from the sea and Bosphorus quite abruptly, giving a bold appearance. In other places she retires in a more modest manner. As an Oriental town, she has more than the usual amount of trees and foliage, which add to her beauty.

On her right as we sail up the bay is Scutari. This is Asiatic Turkey. On the hill away in the distance is located the girls’ college and school belonging to the American Board, which is doing a grand work.

Before going ashore, we might as well go up the Bosphorus and Golden Horn and the sweet waters of Europe. The Bosphorus connects the Sea of Marmora with the Black Sea, being eighteen miles in length and from one to three miles wide.

As you come up to the landing, you turn to the right, leaving the Sea of Marmora. Entering this noted channel, take a small steamer, and you will have a beautiful sail up and back, both banks being lined with buildings. Perhaps in forty minutes at your right you will see the girls’ college that I have referred to. Dr. Dunning preached to the girls last Sabbath, much to their satisfaction; and it is evident that they will give the doctor a call. Our party were all invited there the 4th to an afternoon spread, resulting in a splendid time, full of enjoyment.

The land on either side of this channel is picturesque of itself, rising somewhat abruptly in places, but fertile to the top, scattered over with Oriental trees and shrubbery. Among these are nestled the houses, as well as many fine and imposing buildings. About as soon as you turn into the Bosphorus at your left from the shore, up back as far as you can see are the sultan’s grounds and palaces and beautiful stables for his horses.

Upon this elevation, overlooking the waters of Marmora and the Bosphorus, live the king of Turkey and almost all of his relatives; yet I have seen many a humble American with a happier-looking face than wears this king in all his regal splendor.

A little farther on, and you pass a little mosque that cannot be surpassed for beauty. On this art and skill seemingly have spent their energies. This is where the king goes to worship, although he has a rule which he follows; that is, to worship once a year in every mosque in the city.

Farther up the channel at your left, high up on the hill, standing up boldly, is Robert College, putting in her hard knocks for truth, righteousness, and good will to men; and she is, no doubt, an eyesore to the sultan.

America is at fault in one thing. She ought to put the best man the nation affords here as consul, a man level-headed, that will stand up for righteousness and at the same time go for business. This she has not done. The Turks are wily, polite, and treacherous. Our consul here, they say, loses his head. I do not think he is anywhere up to the man at Beyrout.

The German consul is doing much toward introducing German goods into Turkey, but the people say they prefer American goods when they can get them. I met a lady yesterday that has all her butter from Waterbury, Vt., coming through in tubs in first-class condition.

But I am getting off my track; and, as we are now nearly at the upper end of the Bosphorus, if you will look back down the coast, you will see that Constantinople with its suburbs is a long city, being about thirty miles in length, resting on this channel and the Sea of Marmora, and containing about one million of people. This city is built largely of wood, some of the buildings being six and seven stories high. While there are many fine-looking buildings, yet a majority of them look rusty, never having seen paint or whitewash. The earthquake, some ten months or more ago, shook them up badly; and you can see many of the scars to-day.

When we return to the landing and stand facing the city, we see the course of the Bosphorus to the right and the Golden Horn going to the left, up through the city. This is where the three waters meet,--Marmora, Bosphorus, and Golden Horn.

Stamboul, the old part of Constantinople, lies to the left of the Horn as you ascend its waters, also running down the shore of Marmora. This part of the city was once the capital of the Greek empire.

Now, to go up the Golden Horn, we will take a kaik. There are said to be thirty thousand of these little boats in the waters around Constantinople. They are long and narrow, being twenty feet or more in length, and look like an Indian canoe. They carry four people, who are seated in the bottom of the boat, four oars with two men to handle them, and they row for dear life; it is fun to go skipping over the waters of the Golden Horn.

The Horn, where it enters the sea, is about one-half mile wide, and is spanned by a pontoon bridge; but we get into our kaik just above this bridge, and in a short time we go under another bridge, and pass some ten or fifteen old war vessels, which are about all the navy Turkey possesses.

The Horn is six miles long, and the boatmen will hustle you over its waters in about fifty minutes. It grows narrow as you ascend, the last two miles being the sweet waters of Europe, and is a place of great beauty,--groves, villas, places of amusement, etc., all along its banks,--and goes meandering its way to the end.

Friday is a gala-day. The Turkish ladies are out, and these waters are literally covered with boats.

[Illustration: TURKISH LADIES.]

It is a great place for picnics. We saw one place where they were having a jolly time roasting the whole carcass of a sheep; they had a stick run through it lengthwise, and were turning it over a big fire of coal, as you would turn a grindstone. I could see by their expression that they had an eye for a good dinner.

Mutton is king in this country, and I will just call your attention to the meat wagons that run through Constantinople; and, if you wish to go into the business here, it will cost you but a trifle to rig up a cart. Take two boards about three feet square, and hang them on a horse, one each side, have some hooks put in on which to hang your roasts, steaks, liver, chops, etc., and you are all right for business. Then you will see many cheaper arrangements than that. A man takes on his shoulder a pole some ten feet long. On this he hangs calves’ heads, pluck, lights, and liver,--some things you might relish, but much that you would not. This fellow travels about, furnishing any one that sees fit to buy.

A man gets full of these quaint things in travelling through these Oriental towns.

I informed you not long ago that we had reached the climax on dogs at Damascus, but I should have waited until we reached this place. The first day we arrived we took carriages, and rode through the streets of Constantinople one and a half hours. We counted seven hundred and fifty dogs, and it was not much of a day for dogs, either. The dogs have their own territory; and, if a dog gets off that on to another dog’s ground, they give him Hail Columbia until he gets back again. Fifteen in one pile is the largest cluster I have seen yet, but am prepared for anything in the way of canines, and also intend to keep in that frame of mind until I leave the Turkish empire.

The great Turkish annual festival “Bairam,” lasting some days, commenced Monday, the 3d. Every well-to-do Mohammedan is expected to buy a sheep at that time, take it home and kill it, and then divide up the meat among the poor, so that every man shall have meat in his house once a year. This is the most Christian thing, in my opinion, the Turks are guilty of doing. The 2d of June we noticed the sheep were coming into the city from all directions by the hundreds and thousands, and were soon informed what was coming.

The sultan commences the slaughter by drawing the knife gently across a sheep’s neck; and, as he was to be at a certain mosque or castle at six o’clock that morning, we decided to take a ride before breakfast, and were on the ground early, getting a good position. They had out the military. The sultan rode in a carriage drawn by four horses, and gold lace seemed to be abundant. The officers and horses in the Turkish army appear to be covered with tinsel, while the soldiers were plain in dress and appearance.

The sultan is fifty-six years old, and beginning to show iron-gray in hair and whiskers. His boys rode in carriages behind the king, each one having a carriage by himself. One of them, the youngest, attracted our attention as being a fine little fellow.

When we arrived here, and were fairly settled in our hotel, we were called on by Dr. Herrick, a brother of Dr. L. H. Cobb’s wife, who has been a missionary here and at Massavan in the interior many years. We accepted an invitation from him to go and spend Saturday night at his house, which we enjoyed exceedingly, learning much of the work of the missionaries, also of the people.

Two of his native teachers at Massavan were arrested some eighteen months ago, accused of plotting against the government, and were sentenced to be hung; but the doctor succeeded in getting another hearing, and cleared them by fleeing the country.

Jealousy and ignorance have no limit among the Turks. A man telegraphed to Germany for a pulley to run so many revolutions, and he was arrested at once because the word “revolution” was in the telegram.

All letters going out of the country, if directed to editors, are examined, and destroyed if not satisfactory. So we have sent all letters, if possible, through the British post-office. Not a scrap of anything can be printed, not even an auction notice, without first going before the censor.

We have visited the Seven Towers that stands at the south-west part of the city, close by the Sea of Marmora. This is a large enclosure with a high wall and towers on the corners, some two hundred feet high. This place at one time was occupied by the janizaries, and many a king lost his head here. There is a small open court inside, called the place of heads. Seven thousand were beheaded at one time, and the heads piled in here. The blood ran in trenches out of the castle. On one side are prison rooms or dungeons. At one time Lord Byron occupied one of them. Near these rooms is what is called the well of blood, where they threw their slaughtered victims. This well is connected by a channel with the Sea of Marmora, so everything went out into sea.

We came to this point on a railroad tram skirting along the seashore, and saw much of the old walls of the city Stamboul. Gala and Pera form the main part of the present Constantinople. In Galata, upon high ground, stands the Galata Tower, one hundred and fifty feet high, and is a grand place to get a view of the city. In the Middle Ages it was called the Tower of Christ or of the Cross. It is now used as a fire-signal station, using flags in the day-time, lanterns by night. The alarm of fire is given by firing a cannon seven times, and then signal the location from the tower.

The dress of the people has changed here within a few years. While one-half or more are Mohammedans, yet you see but little Turkish dress excepting the fez. The rest of the dress is largely American.

They have here what they call esnap. We should call them labor organizations. Each craft has an order of its own, though in so large a city there will be many branches of the same craft. It is said there are two hundred and fifteen registered orders.

They have their patron god-father, and celebrate once a year to his honor. For instance, Adam is patron to the bakers, Eve to the bath women, Abel to the shepherds, Cain to the grave-diggers, Noah to the ship-builders, etc.

We visited the tombs of the kings, where were buried two sultans and several of their wives. One of the sultans killed himself with the shears, or else the attendants did the work for him. There remains to this day an uncertainty in the matter.

The kings’ tombs are covered with wrought Persian silk, ornamented with gold lace and mother of pearl, and will dazzle your eyes to look at them. The wives’ tombs are covered, but not with such splendor. The building was handsome from the word go; and the dome, though small, was exquisitely beautiful.

The mosque S. Sophia, located in Stamboul, is the pride of the Mohammedans of Constantinople. I have already given you an idea of its size; and, as you go inside, you will be impressed with its architectural beauty. It is the third church that has stood on this ground, two having been destroyed. The first was built by Constantine the Great, and was dedicated to Divine Wisdom. The second was built and dedicated to Theodosius. The present one was built by Justinian, costing over one million sterling, and became the centre of the great transactions of state, the emperor’s nuptials being solemnized there, and many great and important events.

There are some eight different varieties of marble used in its construction. Troas, Athens, Ephesus, and many other places contributed to the rearing of this edifice. It was turned into a mosque when the Turks conquered Constantinople.

[Illustration: MOSQUE OF THE SULTAN.]

Monday, the 3d, we were all invited to the Bible House to lunch and met many of the missionaries and teachers from the colleges, and had a charming time. Dr. Herrick did the honors at the table in giving us a welcome, and calling out the speakers after the viands were served. Handsome is that handsome does. Taking that as a basis, Constantinople will have to look long and wide to find as handsome a man as the doctor. Dr. Dunning was happy in his remarks, as well as several other ministers of our party. Dr. Riggs, sixty-three years on the field, and still at the good work, was with us, occupying the head of the table. We also had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Bliss, one of the veterans.

Never was there a time when the hearts and hands of the missionaries in Turkey should be stayed up by the American people more than to-day. The cloud of uncertainty is hanging over them. Satan never yields an inch of ground without a struggle. The Turks are drawing the lines closer every year, and the cloud is liable to burst at any time.

The sultan keeps an army in Constantinople of one hundred and fifty thousand.

It being the week of the great Bairam festival, the steamer was not to go up the Danube until Saturday; and, instead of waiting so long, we decided to take a train Wednesday night, and go by rail to Vienna. So we bid good-by to Constantinople June 5 at 7 P.M.

FROM CONSTANTINOPLE TO PARIS.

JUNE 5, 1895.

We bade good-by to Constantinople at 5 P.M. Wednesday. Thursday morn at six we were called upon in our berth for our passports, as we had finished up the territory of Turkey and were ready to enter Bulgaria. We soon satisfied the Bulgarians that we were all right.

From appearances we had a mutual admiration for each other, as we had seen Turks enough; and the Bulgarians, no doubt, had more love for an American than a Turk, as it is only a few years since they freed themselves from Turkish rule by hard-fought battles.

Our engine was soon speeding its way up a beautiful valley, coursing along a beautiful river, nearly as large as the Connecticut. We seemed to breathe a freer atmosphere than in the land we had just left. The towns we passed through looked thrifty, the people happy.

Bulgaria was filled with Greek Christians, and the Turks oppressed them so heavily that they rebelled; and the Russians came in, and helped them gain their freedom.

We could see away ahead in the distance the Balkan Mountains. Over these mountains came the Russians, who with the Bulgarians fought the Turks the whole length of this beautiful valley we are travelling over, driving them clear to Constantinople. As we passed along, we saw a great many mounds, some twenty-five feet diameter at the base, ten or more feet high, and learned on inquiry they were places where the soldiers were buried. Hence all the forenoon we were passing over a battlefield.

About noon we were in plain view of the mountains over which our big engine was to take us. These mountains seemed to be heavily wooded. The river was beginning to run rapidly; and we found the people were using the water power to run saw-mills, cutting out lumber by the train-load.

Our engine tugged and puffed away vigorously, and at times we moved slowly; but on we went, and about three o’clock were on top of the mountain, where we accelerated our speed, and went plunging down the other side, and at six o’clock we had crossed Bulgaria, and were ready to enter Servia, and of course had to pull out our passports again. Here we had our dinner; and everything was looked over by a set of red-tape fellows, that appeared to have a great weight of responsibility upon themselves. But we took things easily, and soon after our train started we were tucked away in our berth for a good night’s rest and sleep, waking early the next morning as we were going into a lovely city, embowered in trees and shrubbery and flowers, located where she could dip her feet into the beautiful Danube; and it proved to be the city of Belgrade, the largest city in Servia. Here is located the king’s palace.

In passing through Bulgaria, we became much interested in the people. They seemed industrious, mostly in agricultural pursuits, raising corn and large quantities of winter rye.

Bulgaria is in about the same latitude as Vermont, though I think the crops are more forward than they are in Vermont. The corn was being hoed, and the rye will be ready to harvest in about two weeks.

Here the ladies--for they looked like ladies--worked in the field. They had on their red skirts and Zouave jackets, some of them gayly trimmed, and looked jaunty. We saw but few men in the field. They seemed to do the ploughing, the hoeing being done by the women.

It is a question whether women’s rights do not prevail here, and the men are at home making the bread and taking care of the children; but the women and girls looked fresh and healthy, and swung the hoe vigorously.

At every station you see armed police. They wear white coats and caps, blue trousers with gilt buttons and trimmings; and we called them handsome.

We enjoyed our ride through Bulgaria exceedingly. At Belgrade we had to be overhauled again by the government dignitaries, as we were to cross the Danube and enter Hungary and Austria. Hand-bags and everything had to go to the custom-house. Cigars, whiskey, and dynamite seemed to be the articles they were looking for, one about as destructive as the other. The Congregational party had no trouble with anything but the former, and not heavily loaded with that; but, after one hour of unrolling of red tape and haggling away, our train was crossing the Danube over a beautiful, substantial bridge. Passing through Servia in the night, we shall not be able to trumpet forth her glory, but will merely say it is a good country to sleep in, and Belgrade, her capital, looked fine.

After we crossed the Danube, we swept out into a level plain, and soon were lost in a fertile prairie, beautiful land so far as the eye could reach, looking like the West, only it was dotted over with trees that added to its beauty.

In this country the women take the same part in the field as in Bulgaria; and we see but little improvement in farming tools, although we saw them ploughing with ploughs that had mould boards turning the furrow, and two small wheels running in front. On these ploughs there were two and three yoke of oxen, even in light ploughing.

The oxen are the same breed that we saw at Rome,--white, with very large horns running up into the air.

About noon we were running through a country of clay soil and much standing water, and evidently the people had studied gooseology; for no Vermonter ever saw such flocks of geese. One hundred in a flock was no surprise, and we were leaving one flock and running into another for hours.

At one o’clock our train pulled into a spacious depot, and we found ourselves in an American-looking city of five hundred thousand people, called Budapest, lying on the Danube, occupying both sides of the river. We took carriages for the hotel, where we remained one day.

I hardly know how to hold up the town before you that you may get a glimpse of its beauty. The place is but little known, but is rapidly coming to the front, and, if not already, will soon be the finest city in Europe. We come into it sweeping over the Peakos valley. As you look upon the city and beyond, you see the advance guard or picket line of the mighty Alps coming gracefully down to the Danube. On one of these shoulders or arms of the mountain the king has his palace, with his terraced gardens in front, of walks, trees, shrubbery, and flowers, coming down to the Danube, and in the sunlight cast their reflections in its waters, and become the crowning point of a beautiful picture.

The Danube goes sweeping down through the city. One side is level, where the great marts of business have gathered, throwing up massive buildings, not as high as those of Chicago, but from five to eight stories, beautiful in structure, with statuary and ornamentation that the most artistic eye cannot criticise.

Her streets are broad, and look as if they had been swept and garnished. All over her borders are commons and small parks, beautiful with art as well as nature. On the other side of the river, as I said before, are those graceful elevations coming down from the Alps. Upon these has climbed the residence part of Budapest, or at least from appearance the wealthy have gone up there, building fine residences, giving a fine background to the lovely city.

Budapest has considerable manufacturing. It is said to have a model flouring mill, from which the mills of Minneapolis were patterned. She has the finest suspension bridge in the world, spanning the Danube, costing two and a quarter millions. Near the bridge in the square are mounted two splendid statues of distinguished Hungarians. One is Count Stephen Szechenyi, who stands there resting his eye upon two of his great creations: one is the suspension bridge, and the other is the Hungarian Academy of Science. The other statue is Francis Deak, the sage of the country, sitting on a magnificent pedestal. This great statesman succeeded in composing the contentions that had lasted years between Hungary and Austria, and turning them into relations of firm friendship, and has proved a great blessing to both nations.

From the suspension bridge, along the river bank for a long distance, is what is called the Corso. Here runs a beautiful street that carriages are not allowed on in the evening. This is lined with gardens and small parks; and, being on the banks of the river, it is charming. Here you must take a stroll in the evening, and see the brave men and fair women, as well as children, of Budapest. Nowhere in our travels have we seen a people apparently so happy. In going through this Corso, you will see thousands of ladies and gentlemen, also children, in gay attire, some walking, others sitting at their little tables, partaking of some light viands with water or lemonade, chatting merrily. We saw but very little beer or wine, nothing in the way of drunkenness or rowdyism. The people seem to spend much time out doors; and we have seen very few sickly, puny-looking people. God’s fresh air and exercise seem to be a panacea for all ills.

Budapest, we understand, has fine schools, museums, art galleries, etc., which we did not have time to visit.

Saturday, June 9, we took our train for Vienna, a run of five hours. Our travel through Austria has been a succession of surprises, finding it a beautiful farming country and scenery unsurpassed anywhere. In travelling through this country, some of our party have had their faces badly twisted by trying to pronounce the names of the stations and towns as we come along, such as Tzaribrab, Szabadka, Kiskoros, etc.; but it probably will not be lasting, and our friends will have no trouble in picking us out when we return.

We reached Vienna Saturday evening, and are quartered at the Hotel Oesterreichischen, and shall remain here until Wednesday morning, when we leave for Paris, being eight hundred and fifty miles. The run is made in twenty-four hours.

Vienna has some sixteen hundred thousand people, and is near the Danube. There are two small tributaries of the Danube that run through the city.

Vienna is known the world over, and it will be foolish for me to weary you in taking you through the city or pointing out things that you are familiar with. You will remember her bread at the World’s Fair at Philadelphia in 1876, and we find she still retains the art. So we are enjoying that part of the _table d’hôte_. Vienna at one time was a walled city, that was when her borders were narrow to what they are now; but the city grew, and they built outside, and the wall became of little use and was taken away, and the ground was made into a boulevard, and is called the Ringstrasse. It is a circular street now in the centre of the city, and to go around it will make a trip of some three miles. It is one hundred and eighty-five feet wide. There are three drive-ways for carriages; but each side of the centre one are walks for the people, some forty feet wide, lined each side with trees. These with generous sidewalks next to the buildings make a great thoroughfare, and nearly all of the public buildings and fine residences are on this boulevard. You will find crowds moving on the Ringstrasse at all times of day and night.

One thing new we saw at Budapest, also here in Vienna, is the way they drive many of their single teams. The small wagons, instead of having shafts or thills, as we do in America, have a pole; and the horse is hitched in on the left-hand side as you sit in the wagon. The first one I saw a lady was driving. I came very near going to her and offering her my sympathies. I thought she had been unfortunate, and one of her horses had broken his neck or something else, and she was getting home with one horse the best she could; but she was too lively for me. I was not able to reach her, and was saved the embarrassment; and I soon learned that that was the way they were all driving, but I have no desire to take the fashion home to America.

Sunday, the 9th, we went to the St. Stephen Church. It is the largest cathedral in Austria, tower and spire four hundred and fifty feet high. We heard beautiful music: organ, trumpets, cymbals, and fine voices would take you almost from your feet. We saw them swing the golden censer, burning incense. The rest of it was all Dutch to me.

In one of the chancels of the church was a sarcophagus of Frederic III.

We also took a drive to the king’s summer palace on the outskirts of the city, and went through all its gaudy and elegant rooms, one room only twenty-five feet square costing five hundred thousand dollars, finished in mosaic. The grounds and gardens, which were immense in size, were more enjoyable than the house. Here the king entertains his royal guests that come from other countries.

We also visited the Rathhaus, what we would call a town house. It was a building of great capacity, elegant in finish. In it is one hall three hundred feet long, sixty feet wide, with a colonnade and balcony fifteen feet wide, running the whole length, two rows of chandeliers the length of the hall. This is where they have their banquets and public gatherings. In this building the business of the nation is transacted. The building was dedicated in 1883, the two hundredth anniversary of the nation’s freedom from the Turks. It cost six millions, and is an attractive ornament to Vienna.

I will call your attention to the Capuchin church. Under this church are large vaults, subterranean passages. Here you will find the royal families of Spain and Austria sleeping their last sleep. There are one hundred and ten already placed there. Many of the sealed caskets are kept covered with flowers. Maximilian’s casket was pointed out to us.

It used to be the custom in olden times, when a lady of the royal family was to be married, to place her here the night before the nuptials. One lady died the next morning from the shock this ordeal gave her.

A few minutes’ walk from here we will step into the Augustinian church, and see the beautiful marble statues standing at the tomb of Archduchess Maria Christina, expressing sorrow and benevolence. This was Canova’s masterpiece.

As you go around the Ringstrasse, you will notice a large square or park, with fountains, trees, and flowers. Each side there are imposing-looking buildings. One is the museum, the other is the building of natural history. Though you are going to Paris and London and will have a chance to see great things in this line, yet it will pay you to drop in for a half-day at each place.

The mineral collection in the natural history building is said to be the finest in the world. We saw an opal valued at one million. They have collections from all over the world. Saw Vermont granite and marble, Michigan copper, etc.

The parks and gardens of Vienna are delightful. You must be sure and go to the Prater. This is a vast territory just outside the city, shaded with trees and shrubbery, and is fitted up for all kinds of amusement, restaurants and gardens where you can go and get coffee, lemonade, beer, and anything to eat you desire, bands of music playing in all directions. In the evenings thousands upon thousands of people are gathered here for an hour of enjoyment; and, if you wish to see Vienna in all its life and gayety, then go to the Prater.

As you pass through the streets of Vienna, you will be interested in the express wagons. They are drawn by large dogs, usually men or boys with them, but occasionally women are seen doing the trucking of the city. Wednesday, the 12th, at 9 A.M., our train, the Oriental express for Paris, left the station with all hands on board, and went sweeping out into the country of hills and vales, embowered with trees and shrubbery, among which nestled cottages and villas; and occasionally upon some hill-top would be seen a castle, standing like some monarch, owning all he could survey. Farther on comes the broad field, with the tiller of the soil holding possession.

About 2 P.M. we crossed the line into Germany, where we could see the forest that had been planted in rows, beautiful spruces, tall, straight as arrows, fields of clover and grain,--these views constantly changing.

At four o’clock for miles we went sweeping around the outskirts of Munich, covering acres of plain and level country, dotted over with tall chimneys, and from appearance was a real manufacturing city. Iron, cotton, and leather goods are made here, but the greatest of all productions is her beer. Munich beer is known everywhere, and goes out of Munich every day by the train-loads.

Leaving this place, we soon plunged in among the mountains, following down a meandering river for miles.

We had all day long been drinking in the beautiful scenery, and were thankful that scenery was not intoxicating. If it had been, twilight would have found us in bad condition. We looked about for a Joshua to stay the sun, that we might have daylight all the way to Paris; but not a Joshua to be found. So Night spread her mantle over the scene; and we went to our berths, rising at four the next morning, finding the country as beautiful as ever, though the farming lands from appearance not as fertile as Austria and Germany.

We are now in France, and begin to enter the suburbs of Paris. It is evident that Germany and France pay great attention to forestry. The canals, roads, and everything else seem to be lined with trees, besides acres of forests that have been sown or planted.

We shall remain here some six days, and then push on to London.

Our itinerary is about ended for this side of the Atlantic, and I drop my pen here.

Now I have taken you across the Atlantic, through the Mediterranean, Ægean, and Marmora Seas, have been with you on the Nile, traveled over land with you through Italy, Egypt, Palestine, Syria, Greece, Turkey, Bulgaria, Servia, Hungary, Austria, Germany, and into France, and you ought to be able now to travel alone; for I must hurry away to old Vermont, and to a people that I expect have never looked as handsome to me as they will when I next meet them.

If you get into trouble, write me; and I will send you my passport, and perhaps my letter of credit, although it will probably look thin when I reach Springfield, but there will probably be enough left to help you out. I shall be glad to see you when you return, and we will talk over the sights, scenes, and wonders of the last four months.

PARIS TO SCOTLAND.

When I bade you good-by at Paris June 12, the Oriental party had their faces turned toward New England, and the Vermonters had dreams of the Green Mountain State. Our itinerary was taking us through to New York without any stay of proceedings anywhere. Though our tickets would hold good through the season, the party decided to break up in the beautiful city of Paris, and each one take the reins in his own hands.

Our managers went to their homes, and we were left as free as the breezes of the mountains. For one, I was anxious to see old Scotland, and look over the places where our grandfathers and grandmothers are sleeping, and shake hands with our cousins, see the country where the pure Scotch blood flows freely in the veins of the people,--an article that is current not only in New England, but the world over.

I shall be only too happy to take you to Edinburgh, Glasgow, and through the Trossachs, getting the most we can out of Scotland in the time allowed us. If I do this, I might as well pick up the thread where I dropped it June 12. I shall not detain you very long either in Paris or London.

In Paris the first proper thing to do is to take a small boat up the Seine, stopping at the Eiffel Tower, where you can ascend up into the heavens either in a balloon or go up in the elevator of the tower. The balloon has been started recently as an opposition scheme. It has one advantage in this way, you can go as high as you please. It is held by a rope; and, when you get all of the ethereal regions you care for, they pull it down. However, when you are up in these institutions, Paris is spread out before you like a map; and, if you have taken a guide with you, which is the best thing to do, he will point out all the wonderful things of the city, and, when you return to your hotel, you start out more intelligently than you could without this panoramic view.

As you come up from the boat near the obelisk I referred to in my Egyptian letter, on the Rue Champs Elysées, the finest street or avenue probably in Paris, looking in one direction you see the Tuileries, the other way the Royal Arch of Napoleon.

This arch is a wonderful structure, standing on a slight elevation. The great warrior had the streets laid out so that they radiated from this point like the spokes of a wheel, in order that he might plant his cannon at this arch, and sweep the city in all directions. But the requiem has been chanted over this great general; and he is now sleeping in Hôtel des Invalides, a place you will want to visit before leaving the city. The sun, as it shines through the pale blue and yellow glass, gives a peculiar icy appearance, and will prove to be a picture unlike anything you ever saw before. Here you will see some of the cannon he captured, as well as the flags of other nations that he gathered in his hard-fought battles. On the pavements around his tomb are inscribed the names of the battles he won.

Leading from the altar above to the crypt beneath are flights of steps, at the foot of which is a bronze door with two caryatides in bronze, by Durot, one bearing a sceptre and crown, and the other a globe. Over this door are words taken from Napoleon’s will, which your guide will interpret in English, as follows: “I desire that my ashes shall repose on the banks of the Seine, among the French people I have loved so much.”

When we consider the thousands that lost their lives to gratify his pleasure and ambition, it sounds rather ironical. Hôtel de Ville is another place that will fill your eyes with admiration. The old building that stood there was commenced in 1533, and was nearly a century in building. It was destroyed in 1871. The Communists had taken possession of it, using it for several months as their headquarters, and had stored in the building large quantities of explosive material. When they were attacked by the soldiers, who shot every one that came out, some foolhardy fellow inside touched off the explosives, which destroyed the building and all there was in it.

In this condition it remained many years, but was finally rebuilt in greater splendor than the original.

The Champs Elysées is very broad, and up the avenue, past the Royal Arch, the people drive to the two-thousand-acre park; and afternoons it is full of people going and coming to that resort. Much of the way of this great avenue it is virtually a park. On either side and in the groves are built theatres and anything and everything for amusement, lighted in the evening with thousands of globe lights. A stroll up and back the Champs Elysées from 8 till 11 P.M. will feed the curiosity of any Yankee that may happen to be in Paris. One evening will be enjoyed at the opera, where you will see the finest opera building in the world.

Place de la Concorde is one of the finest squares in Europe, and carries with it much of historical interest. It was once called Place de la Révolution. Here the guillotine was erected. Louis XVI. lost his head here, also his queen, Marie Antoinette, Madame Roland, Charlotte Corday, as well as hundreds of the nobility.

Some morning early, say eight o’clock,--for that is early in Paris,--you had better visit Les Halles, the great market, situated at the rear of the Rue St. Honoré. This is a wonderful sight, and gives you some idea of the gastronomical powers of the French people, or, in other words, the amount it takes to feed a large city. Le Panthéon, or Sainte Geneviève, is situated on the hill Sainte Geneviève. This church was founded in 1764 by Louis XIV., in accordance with a vow made by him when ill at Metz.

It is built in the form of a Greek cross, and somewhat resembles the Pantheon at Rome. In the vaults of this church have been placed the bones of such men as Voltaire, Victor Hugo, and others of renown. Visiting these old churches in Paris can be carried to any extent one may wish; but most people get full of these things about the second day, and prefer some other diet.

You can step into a meat market where they handle nothing but horseflesh, and see the nice, fat quarters hanging there; also the place where they make sausages out of mule meat.

We can visit the place where they erect the scaffold where they behead the criminals. This is done on one of the main streets of Paris, free to all. Paris has fine streets, which are kept beautifully clean. No city, in my opinion, is ahead of them in that respect.

The people of France are groaning under taxation. Their debt is some four thousand million dollars. They have half a million standing army, another half million that drill a part of the time, also a million men enrolled that they can call out on short notice. The priests draw their money out of the state treasury. Sugar retails at twelve cents per pound, and every pound that is made has to pay a duty to the government. The idea of making beet sugar was first conceived in France. It is said that necessity is the mother of invention.

At the time of the great naval battle of Trafalgar, although Nelson lost his life, the English were victorious on the seas, crushing out the navy of France. They had been having their sugar from the islands. This supply was then cut off; and the people of France became desperate, and were even on the verge of riots. Napoleon called together his greatest chemists, and told them they must devise some way to manufacture sugar; and it resulted in extracting the sweet from the beet.

While in Paris, we visited the Sèvres china works. Their wares are noted the world over. In their ware-rooms you will see large, elegant pictures painted on porcelain and then fired or burned, which is a very difficult thing to accomplish.

We have feasted our eyes as we have traveled through the Old World on the works of the old masters, and seemingly nothing has outdone the wonderful work of art accomplished by this company. The process of manufacturing their wares was shown to us, and was exceedingly interesting.

Before we leave for London, we will take a day and visit Versailles. This can be done by railroad train or tramway; but the most enjoyable way, if there is a company of you, is to charter a tallyho. It is a ten-mile drive through charming scenery; and, with the jokes, puns, and conundrums that accompany such a drive, it is a thing of anticipation and delight.

Versailles is a place of some fifty thousand inhabitants. The main thing to visit is the palace and grounds, with immense fountains that play only the first Sunday in each month, except on special occasions. Louis XIII. built the first part of the palace, and Louis XIV. added to the original, and employed Le Brun to decorate the entire structure inside and Lenôtre to design and lay out the grounds, expending some forty million pounds.

This palace was used as the seat of the monarchy until 1789, when the Assembly Nationale overthrew the government, giving a free hand to the Revolutionists, who sacked the palace and ended its days as a royal abode. Later Louis Philippe spent six hundred thousand pounds in putting it in repair. He redecorated and converted it into a picture gallery and museum; and, as a whole, it is to-day one of the finest attractions of Paris. While there, you will want to visit the building where the royal carriages are kept, those that have become _passé_. There you will see the most expensive carriage ever built by any king or monarch, which it takes some eight horses to draw. It never was used but three times. Versailles is the first place to visit outside of Paris.

Fontainebleau, thirty-four miles south-west from the city, comes next. There you will find another palace and a wonderful forest of over forty thousand acres. The cheapest and best way to get an idea of the city of Paris or London is to hire a guide, and then take to the tops of the tramways and buses, fare two pennies. By making a few changes, you can go in all directions, and your guide, if a good one, will be continually calling your attention to things of interest; and it also gives you an idea of the broad acres these cities have flung their arms around and appropriated to their use.

Having spent several days here in Paris, we might as well pack our grips, and go through to London. This is about ten hours’ ride. You can go by the way of Dover, where it takes but little over an hour to cross the English Channel, which is a terror to all seasick people, or you can go by the way of Newhaven, and be on the channel some three hours. But, in looking over our tickets, I find we are to go by the way of Newhaven. You can leave at 9 A.M. or 9 P.M., the latter taking you through in the night, getting breakfast the next morning in London. The former way you take in the whole thing by daylight, excepting on the channel. There, if you are a good sailor, you are all right. Otherwise you are more likely to let out than take in. However, it makes but little difference. After the ten hours you will find yourself in the largest city in the world; and you will find no place more convenient and central than Hôtel Metropole, near Trafalgar Square, where stands the statue of Nelson on a very high pedestal.

Around this square are clustered some of the best hotels in London. The Metropole accommodates seven hundred people, and is always full. Here every man must have a silk hat; and the ladies in the evening are walking fashion plates, with a sprinkling of diamonds thrown in.

It will interest you to watch the head porter, a large, fine-looking fellow, dressed in uniform, from 8.30 to 9.30, as he sends the gentlemen and ladies away from the hotel, mostly to the theatres. The hansoms and four-wheelers, as they call them, fill the square. The porter has a whistle,--one whistle for hansom, two for a four-wheeler. The drivers respond instantly to the call. You tell the porter what you want, and you will be packed into your carriage and sent on your way to your destination before you have time to think about it. He told me he had frequently shipped three hundred in an hour.

I think the best thing to do is to take our trip into Scotland, and on our return finish up London the last thing before sailing for New York. The train we want leaves Euston Station at 10 A.M., due in Edinburgh at 6.30, a run of four hundred and forty miles in eight and one-half hours. It makes four stops, besides stopping twenty minutes for lunch at Preston. So any school-boy can figure out about how fast we have got to run. When the steam is on, the word “hustle” does not express it. We just went flying, and had to average about one mile a minute; and some of the way they claim to run seventy miles an hour.

We soon left London at our backs, passing through Bletchley, Rugby, Stafford, Crewe, Preston, etc., going through the north of England. This is an old country and under thorough cultivation, with its old English oaks, beeches, etc., and much fine scenery.

After two hours’ run, we find we are passing over and among the great coal fields; and we begin to see at our right and left the tall chimneys rolling out their dense volumes of smoke, and we soon learn that the great marts of manufacturing have located in this region. Off at our right is Manchester with her great cotton mills. Beyond are Huddersfield and Leeds, turning out the fine woollens. In another direction is Birmingham, with her great iron-works. Farther on we see at our left a beautiful valley; and we learn on inquiry that it is Windermere, or what is called the English Lakes, and is a fine resort of much gayety and a great place for coaching.

At 4.30 we found ourselves at Carlisle. When we leave there, we enter Scotland, and the picture changes. We find ourselves in a farming country, and everything looks charming: the small white cottages, neat and tidy, and from appearance love reigns within; even the dogs in the front yard smile when we go by, the chickens flap their wings for joy; the cattle in the field are sleek and lazy, either clipping the green grass or chewing their cuds with composure; the horses are willing and strong, as they put their shoulders into the collars, and draw in the large loads of grain and new-mown hay.

You will be delighted with the laddies and lassies of Scotland. The latter can grace the parlor or perform the duties of the kitchen, and, if necessity demands, can help their brothers in the field. It will do you good to look at them. The rose and peach have left their impress on their cheeks. The lass is one of those artless, light-hearted girls that think it is no harm to be kissed when coming through the rye; and, if I were one of the laddies, I should miss no opportunity in walking through the rye with her.

The laddie soldiers are very attractive, with their caps with drooping plumage, white waists and leggings and the Highland plaid skirt, and a sash of the same material coming around under the left arm and up on to the right shoulder, where it is fastened, then hanging down about to the knee. This, with ruddy, fresh, healthy countenance, makes a fine picture; and, if I were an artist, and wished to copy manhood in its fulness, I would certainly go to Scotland.

But you see I have been loitering by the way, and have said many things that might have been deferred until we reached Edinburgh, where we arrived about on time, and took carriages for the Royal Hotel on Princes Street, which is one of the main streets of the city and the hotel one of the best.

Here we found Carnegie, who is the great iron king of America, and wife. He has done much for Edinburgh. We saw one public building into which he had put two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

Some think Edinburgh the finest city in Europe. While I do not care to risk my judgment or reputation in the matter, yet I am willing to say that we were delighted with the place and its suburbs.

Lord Lytton has said that it is a divine pleasure to admire, and that there are but few cities in Europe where the faculties of admiration can be so cultivated as in the grand old capital of Scotland. Whether it be antiquarian, romantic, picturesque, or scholarly, whatever is sought for, the tourist will find plenty of food in Edinburgh.

The city of itself has a population of two hundred and thirty-six thousand. While it is a seaport town, it seems to be dropped down upon the Highlands of Scotland, and has its ups and downs, and is very picturesque.

The first thing to attract your attention as you enter the city is the castle. This is a summit of rock some four hundred feet above the level of the sea. The top has a space of seven acres, and is a military fortress. It reminds one of the Acropolis of Athens. This place was used as a stronghold long before the authentic records of Scottish history; but none of the present buildings, with the exception of the little Norman chapel of Queen Margaret, date farther back than the fifteenth century. At one time it had a tower on it sixty feet high, called the tower of David II., erected about the year 1370.

In 1573 the gallant Kirkcaldy held the fortress for Queen Mary when it was attacked by Sir William Drury, who had five batteries playing on one point nine days, and David’s tower was battered completely down, so that egress or ingress was impossible; and after thirty-three days the gallant Kirkcaldy surrendered, and had to be let down, he and his men, with ropes.

To-day the Highland laddies have their quarters there.

Calton Hill, farther north on a line with Prince Street, with an elevation of three hundred and forty feet above the sea, is another place of interest. On this is Dugald Stewart’s monument and the royal observatory.

Here your curiosity will be excited when you see twelve stone columns forming the end of a building, looking like the Parthenon at Athens. You will ask some of the Scotch boys or girls that are playing about there the name of the structure, and they will say it is Edinburgh Folly. On further investigation we found that George IV. in 1822 commenced a monument to the Scotchmen that had fallen in the land and sea battles of Napoleon’s time, and erected these twelve pillars at a cost of one thousand pounds each, when the funds gave out; and there it stands as a curiosity of the nineteenth century.

The finest thing on this elevation is Nelson’s monument, in circular form, one hundred and two feet high, with winding staircase inside, and battlemented summit, erected in 1815. On the flag-staff a huge ball is rigged, and is moved by mechanism adjusted to the observatory, that drops daily at one o’clock, Greenwich time, and communicates with and discharges instantaneously a gun at the castle. You can pay threepence, and go to the top of this monument, if you wish.

Scotland owes much to Sir Walter Scott. His Highland chief and other works have thrown a beautiful picture of Scotland broadcast to the world, and have attracted many tourists to the land so much admired by the great author.

In front of the Royal Hotel stands a beautiful monument, about two hundred feet high, costing some seventy-five thousand dollars, its cruciform, Gothic spire supported on four early English arches, which serve as a canopy for the marble statue of Sir Walter as he sits there upon a granite pedestal, with a book in his hand, and beside him lies his favorite dog, Maida. In the niches above the several arches are a great number of statuettes of leading characters of Scott’s works, and there are many medallion likenesses of national poets.

I think the symmetry and beauty of this monument are wonderful. Every time I saw it I stopped and admired its beauty. The architect was a self-taught genius by the name of George Meikle Kemp, who was accidentally drowned in the Union Canal before this work was fully completed.

A little west of this monument is a bronze statue of Adam Black, Lord Provost and M.P. for the city, who was publisher of the Encyclopædia Britannica.

East, there are many other statues, those of Livingstone, Christopher North, Allan Ramsay, and Professor Simpson. These are all located in Princes Street Gardens, a beautiful place for a ramble at twilight, which at this season of the year in Edinburgh comes at a late hour. The chickens here retire about ten in the evening; and the mother can begin to scratch for them as early as three in the morning, if she wishes to do so. There are virtually only some four hours of darkness. In the winter this is reversed. Daylight is dealt out in small doses, darkness in quantity. The only objection to Edinburgh is that it is too near Norway, but I suppose our Scotch cousins think that what they lose in winter they make up in the summer.

Burns, the poet, spent much of his time here. It was also the home of John Knox, the great reformer. In the old part of the city you will see the house where he wrote the History of the Reformation. This is where he escaped the bullet of an assassin when it struck the candlestick before him, while he was sitting in meditation. It is said to be one of the oldest houses in the city. Knox died in this house in 1572, age sixty-seven. You will be shown a balcony where he used to stand and address the people. Near by the balcony are inscribed in Roman letters the first and second great commandments.

In Parliament Square you will see a small surface bronze stone in the ground, with the initials J. K. Here, Nov. 26, 1572, was placed all that was mortal of John Knox. The nobles and citizens were gathered there at that time, and Regent Morton pronounced over him a memorable eulogium, in which he used these words: “Here will rest the ashes of him who never feared the face of any man.” Courage is one of the characteristics of the Scotch people. John Knox no doubt had his share.

The Mercat Cross, in one of the squares of Edinburgh, with its history, is worthy of your attention. It is as old as Edinburgh itself. It was destroyed in 1577; but in 1885, through the efforts of Mr. Gladstone, it was restored, and around it to-day are clustered the memories of perilous days. Here the citizens celebrated the accessions of all the Jameses, the blue blanket was unfurled, at the sound of the bells of St. Giles the burghers gathered to fight the English or to defend the town from hostile inroads. It was the place where the crier stood to proclaim the laws or sale of goods. James VI. and Charles I. endeavored here to impose laws which Scotland refused to obey. Charles II. followed in the same foolish way, and many victims of the persecuting times came to a martyr’s crown at the cross.

The Holyrood Palace and chapel and Parliament Building are places of interest; but one of the largest buildings in Scotland is the Museum of Art and Science, four hundred feet long, two hundred feet wide, ninety feet high, lighted in the evening by horizontal rods in the roof, studded with gas-burners. The number of jets is five thousand.

You, no doubt, would enjoy staying longer in Edinburgh; but the wheels of time are moving rapidly, and we will take the train to-morrow morning for Melrose. About one and a half hours’ ride will give us a delightful day.

SCOTLAND TO AMERICA.

Melrose is one of the delightful spots of Scotland; for I believe that Sir Walter Scott worshipped the god of nature, and his heart was full when he revelled in the beautiful scenery around Melrose. On arrival we will visit Melrose Abbey first. This is the ruin of an old church or convent.

They will show you the stone on which Sir Walter used to sit in meditation. Many of the rich and beautiful thoughts found in his works might have originated here.

After looking over this historical relic, we will engage a jolly Scotchman with his carriage to drive us to Abbotsford, some two and one-half miles, the home of Sir Walter Scott. Here you leave your carriage in the main road, take a pathway that leads down into a beautiful dell embowered with trees, and you soon see the home of Scott; and you will decide that the architect had a mind of his own, and has reared a building with some oddities, yet which, with its towers, angles, and surroundings, is a thing of beauty.

A little west of the house is the meandering brook with its silver stream as it goes rippling and singing its way onward. It is said that this little stream gave this noted Scotchman a great deal of enjoyment as he listened to its music wafted by the breeze to his library and study rooms where he spent so much of his time.

The place is owned by Sir Walter Scott’s granddaughter, and is kept just as he left it, and must be yielding her a good return, as every one that enters pays an English shilling for the privilege. You will find a very pleasant young lady there that will show you through the house, giving all the information wished for; and it is a perfect museum of itself, filled with relics presented to the great author by kings, princes, and nobles.

Here you can look over his library of twenty thousand volumes, here you see his chair and desk just as he left them, also the last suit of clothes he wore, with his white stove-pipe hat, Scotch plaid trowsers, shoes, say No. 8, but with more breadth than length.

The swords and implements of war seem to have a large share in the exhibition. Whether this was Sir Walter’s taste or the taste of his friends that presented them, I am not able to say, but am of the impression that the rod and gun, with his favorite dog, Maida, and in company with his Highland chief, Rob Roy, spending his leisure hours among the hills and valleys of Loch Katrine and Loch Lomond, is where Sir Walter found his enjoyment and recreation, and relief from hours of toil. Not only that, but in these simple amusements he found the inspiration that is seen in his works that we are enjoying to-day.

After drinking our fill of the scenes and surroundings of a lifetime, we will retrace our steps to the place where we left our carriage, and return to Melrose. We then drive to Dryburgh, some four miles, where rest the ashes of Sir Walter Scott and family.

After three-quarters of an hour’s drive you will halt on the bank of a small river, where you find a suspension foot-bridge. You cross this, turn to your right, and a walk of twenty minutes, and you will find yourself in a meandering pathway, with the beautiful trees of Scotland all about you. You will say at once that this is a retreat for lovers; and you soon come to the ruins of an old abbey, in which is the tomb of Sir Walter and others.

The keeper of the place will tell you that Scott used to spend hours in this retreat with his wife, when she was his best girl; and no doubt it became one of the dearest spots on earth to him, and was probably the reason why his earth’s journey was ended here.

As the sun seems to be dropping down in the western sky, we will return to Melrose and take the train for Edinburgh, where we spend the night, and take an early start in the morning, June 28, for Glasgow, going through the Trossachs. The train leaves about eight in the morning. So we have time for breakfast, and bid our cousins at Edinburgh good-by, and receive a cordial invitation to come again, to which our hearts say Yea and Amen.

Our train is soon sweeping us through the beautiful scenery of Scotland. We go through Stirling, a place of beauty, with its ruined castle, where we might spend a day with profit; but time is limited, and we pass on to where we leave the train at Callander, taking coaches for Loch Katrine, some half-mile or more this side of the boat landing. We stop at the charming Hotel Trossachs for lunch; and, if you have the time, it will pay you to stop over a day.

Good fishing is near at hand, the scenery delightful, the hotel the personification of neatness, the cuisine excellent. But our coach is ready, and we bid good-by to one of the loveliest spots in Scotland, and go to the landing, where we find “Rob Roy” waiting for us.

This is a nice little skipper, and will carry some seventy-five persons, if necessary, and is a much better boat in fair than foul weather. But we were fortunate, it being one of June’s bright, charming days; and all went merry as a marriage bell.

Probably Loch Katrine and her surroundings were never more charming in appearance than this day that we saw her. If you are expecting to see high and rugged mountains along her shores, you will be disappointed. The highest elevation is only little more than a thousand feet.

This, to a New Englander, is rather a tame affair; but, like Lake George, the scenery fills your soul with admiration. The shores are not abrupt, but gradually recede, with foliage to the top of the hills; and in many places the slopes are so gradual that the Highlanders have their dwellings near the shore, with their fields and flocks climbing back upon the mountains.

There seems to be a great variety of trees and foliage upon these mountains, which give different shades of coloring. This, as you go sailing down the lake, passing Ellen Isle and Silver Strand, will give you a charming picture. “Rob Roy” is about one and one-half hours in reaching Stronach Lochar, near the lower end of the lake, where we find coaches to take us to Inversnaid, where we take a larger steamer on the waters of Loch Lomond.

Loch Katrine was the little sister with her coquettish beauty. Loch Lomond is more stately and dignified, but comely in appearance. At Inversnaid there is a fine hotel; but we had satisfied the inner man at the Hotel Trossachs. Therefore, we spent our time in admiring the beauties of Inversnaid and surroundings, which is near the upper end of Loch Lomond.

In some forty-five minutes after our arrival by coach we find ourselves on board of a very comfortable steamer, with her prow headed down the lake, commencing a three hours’ ride for the lower end of the lake, where we take a car-ride of twenty miles to Glasgow.

As we pursued our journey, we found the lake somewhat narrow, giving us beautiful scenery on our right; and on our left we passed Rob Roy’s cave, also his prison where he held his victims until he secured ransom money. You will see at our left where the city of Glasgow has tunnelled under the mountains, and taken their supply of water, a distance of thirty-four miles, costing millions.

Queen Victoria attended the opening of this great enterprise. Farther on Ben Lomond looms up to a height of over three thousand feet, and is the Mount Washington of that region. Birch, ash, oak, and in many places the heather cover the sides of the hills and mountains with charming effect. As we pass on the last hour of our sail, Loch Lomond is much wider and filled with beautiful islands. About four o’clock we tie up at the pier, and take a train for Glasgow, reaching our hotel at half-past five.

June 27, Thursday morning, we start out to investigate Glasgow, a city of five hundred thousand inhabitants, with suburbs of nearly another half million. The Clyde passes through the city. This river is the promoter of Glasgow, or, if you prefer, you can call Glasgow the offspring of the Clyde.

It is the great ship-building port of the world. The river is not wide, but is deep, so they can slide in the largest boats that plough the ocean, and steam them down into the Atlantic. We will now step on board a small steamer that plies up and down the Clyde, and go down the river some five miles. On your right and left the staging poles and masts look like a forest; and, when you hear the clanging of hammers and chisels upon the heavy steel plates as they are being fitted, you will decide at once that the man that can make the most noise is the best fellow, and that every man’s effort is crowned with success.

We pass the yard where they have been and are building yachts that have competed, and are to continue to compete, for the national cup. We also pass the abattoir where they butcher nothing but American cattle.

Before they turned the prow of the steamer up the river, they pointed out to us the town of Paisley, where the famous Paisley shawls originated; but the day of that article has gone by, and they are making other goods now.

But what will surprise you in taking this trip is the hundreds of acres of ship-yards on the banks of the Clyde. This has brought in an immense amount of money, and made Glasgow what she is to-day, the great manufacturing city of Scotland.

The sewerage of the city empties into the Clyde, and the impurities are making them trouble; and they are devising ways to take care of it elsewhere, which will be a blessing to those that are on or near the river.

We enjoyed our stay in Glasgow, though it was a short one, leaving in the afternoon for Manchester, where we spent the night, going through to London the next day, feeling that our trip to Scotland was a decided success.

Saturday night found us nicely located and everything in running order at the Hotel Metropole in London.

Sunday we go to hear Joseph Parker preach his twenty-fifth anniversary sermon, also to Westminster Abbey to hear Canon Farrar. There it was Flower Sunday, and children took part in the services, and everything was in keeping with the flowery kingdom. Monday morning we will put in an appearance there again, as you will find it an immense building and a perfect burying-ground of itself; and whoever preaches there preaches to the dead and the living,--which class is the best listeners is a question.

The crypt is full of dead men’s bones; and the main part is the last resting-place of many heroes, princes, and nobles. You will see many inscriptions speaking of their honors and gallant deeds. One of the honored ones fell at Ticonderoga. Perhaps Ethan Allen could give us the circumstances. Westminster Abbey is old and honored, and is one of the great attractions of London.

From here you had better go to St. Paul’s cathedral. There is the last resting-place of the late General Gordon. Many a noted man in silent manner will speak to you there, and you will be interested in hunting for the heroes of olden times.

The architecture of this building is grand. You can revel in churches in London any length of time if your taste runs that way.

But you may weary of these things; and we will take up temporal and material things, and go to the Bank of England, the great financial institution of London. There you will see them dropping the bags of gold into strong boxes, strapped with iron, then lifted with blocks and pulleys to a platform, where they are shipped to the four corners of the earth. They informed us that the week before they had shipped twenty-five million to France. They seem to be doing business on a large scale. You will see every day late in the afternoon one hundred or more soldiers marching from the barracks to the bank, and they remain in and on top of the building through the night.

From here you can go to the Thames. This will give you an idea of the manufacturing of London, which is located on the banks of this river.

Then go some eight miles up the Thames, and you reach Hampton Court, where you can visit the palace with all its fine paintings, and see the regal splendor of the kings, see one of the largest grape-vines in the world with its twenty-five hundred bunches of grapes to tempt your palate, also a wistaria of about the same proportion.

From there take a carriage, and drive through the two-thousand-acre park, strewn with English oaks and beeches and a variety of trees with beautiful deer seen in all directions. In going through this park, you will visit the mammoth conservatories, with tropical plants and flowers in great variety.

You can return to your hotel by rail or boat, as you may choose. You are probably weary, as all sight-seers usually are when the shades of eve close in upon them.

We shall want to go to the Tower and prison, and see the relics and implements of execution and torture of olden times.

In that section of London you see the beef-eaters, with their pleated bell-topped hats and peculiar dress. These are the old retired soldiers, and it is considered quite an honor for the queen to send one of these men with you on any expedition.

[Illustration: ONE OF “THE BEEF EATERS.”]

The British Museum is extensive, filled with sketches, Indian relics, etc. The historical take the lead.

But if you wish for the beautiful in painting and sculpture, productions of the great artists, then go to Kensington Museum, which is some twenty minutes from Trafalgar Square by bus or hansom. The latter are charming to ride in. They all have rubber tires; and you hear nothing but the horses’ feet as they go clipping over the pavement, which is usually of excellent quality.

A trip to Windsor Castle will be in order. A drive to Hyde Park, and take in on our way Prince Albert’s monument, which was, from appearance, patterned after Sir Walter Scott’s at Edinburgh, perhaps a little more elaborate, but of the same general appearance. Prince Albert sitting there in his royal apparel and gold lace is more attractive than Scott with his Highland plaid trousers and coat to match. But Sir Walter may live as long in the hearts of the people as the other man.

Next let us look at the London Bridge across the Thames, where the poet stood at midnight, when the clock was striking the hour, and the moon shone over the city, etc.

The Houses of Parliament were erected in 1840 from a plan by Sir Charles Barry, which was selected from ninety-seven sent in for competition. Of Gothic style, it covers an area of eight acres, contains eleven courts, one hundred staircases, and eleven hundred apartments, and cost £3,000,000. It is situated on the Thames, and the basement is said to be lower than the river at high water. The Clock Tower, at the north end next to Westminster Bridge, is three hundred and eighteen feet high, the Middle Tower is three hundred feet high, and the south-west, Victoria Tower, the largest of the three, through which the queen enters when opening Parliament, attains a height of three hundred and forty feet. This building carries an immense clock, with faces twenty-three feet in diameter. It takes five hours to wind up the striking parts. A light in the Clock Tower by night and the royal standard flying on Victoria Tower by day indicate that Parliament is in session.

In the Clock Tower is one of the largest bells known, which is called “Big Ben.” It weighs thirteen tons, and can be heard all over London. The inside of this building is rich and imposing, and one can have the privilege of passing through it on Saturdays from ten to four. You enter on the west side, by a door adjacent to Victoria Tower. Policemen are stationed in every room; and they hurry you through, merely giving a chance for a glimpse at the regal splendor as you pass along. As you enter, you pass through the Norman Porch, or hall. Turning to the right, you enter the queen’s robing-room, forty-five feet long, beautifully decorated, and containing beautiful paintings, the state chair, etc., which will stir the admiration of every one. Next comes the Royal or Victoria Gallery, one hundred and ten feet long. Through this room the queen proceeds as she goes from the robing-room in solemn procession to the House of Peers to open Parliament.

On leaving this gallery, you enter the prince’s chamber, a smaller apartment, but of simple magnificence, being decorated with dark wood, for which the Middle Ages were famous.

Here the stained-glass windows exhibit the rose, thistle, and shamrock, emblems of England, Scotland, and Ireland. From here you can enter the House of Peers, which is ninety feet by forty-five, and forty-five feet high. The floor is largely occupied with long leather-covered benches, sufficient to seat five hundred and fifty members.

In this room is the throne, covered with its richly gilded canopy. Here also you will see twelve stained-glass windows, containing the portraits of the kings and queens of England since the Conquest. At night the house is lighted from outside through these windows.

This room, with its throne and paraphernalia for the kings, queens, and lords of the nation, is superior to the House of Commons, which you will pass through before leaving the building. The central hall will attract your attention. It is in the centre of the building, octagonal in shape, sixty feet in diameter, and seventy-five feet high, and richly decorated. Here you will see Venetian mosaics, and glass mosaic finishing, and fittings in keeping with the nation it represents.

From here you can go to Westminster Hall, where you can leave the building with a feeling that you have walked the floor that has been trodden by mental giants, lords, kings, and queens of the land.

We have enjoyed our trip to Scotland and our stay in London much more than we expected, but our friends in Vermont are waiting our arrival; and we will take passage on the “Lahn” July 3, leaving London at 10 A.M., with a run of two hours to Southampton, where we are put on to a lighter and run out into the bay, and transferred to our steamer of the German Lloyd line, not as large as the “Normannia,” that took us out on our tour, but a boat we like quite as well.

The English Channel was remarkably civil to us, letting us out on to the broad ocean without stirring up any bad blood or anything else unpleasant.

The next day, the Fourth, was, of course, a memorable day to every American; and, from the general appearance of the passengers, many were from that land.

While our captain and crew were Germans, they were remarkably civil and mindful of the Americans.

In the morning we found the dining-room decorated with the stars and stripes. The band through the day played the national airs. At 6 P.M. we had a course dinner. On the menu was illuminated ice cream, U.S.A. Near the close of the feast the curtains were drawn at the windows, the electric lights were turned off, and in came the stewards and the waiters holding a receptacle or platter up as high as their heads, with an inverted glass dish on it with a light inside. Around this sat little Dutchmen, Yankees, and Japanese made of ice-cream, holding little flags of the stars and stripes, little umbrellas, etc. The marching was up and down, back and forth among the tables, until the waiters had covered the whole hall. Of course, we Americans saw the point, and cheered them lustily. It was certainly a unique celebration to every one.

We had only two days of rough sailing, with racks on the tables; half day and night of fog, when we had the pleasure of listening to the music of the fog-horn; encountered no icebergs, and only one whale. He saluted us by throwing water some twenty feet into the air, and then went on his way, and we did ours. On the whole, it was a very satisfactory passage, sailing July 3, reaching quarantine in the evening of the 10th, landing early in the morning of the 11th, being five months, less two days, from the time the “Normannia” swung from her pier and headed her prow down North River, with the Oriental party on board with high expectations, which have been more than realized, being watched over by a kind Providence, giving a joyful experience and safe return to our native heath, stronger, truer Americans than ever.

USEFUL HINTS FOR TRAVELLERS.

Those who have never crossed the ocean and travelled in foreign countries would, no doubt, like a short chapter with a few suggestions as to preparations for the journey and what to do after you weigh anchor. First as to luggage and clothing: unless you have friends and acquaintances among the royal blood in the old country, you had better leave laces, frills, and fine jewelry at home; for you will probably not have a chance to go on dress parade until you return to America. Take strong, serviceable clothing, with easy fitting and strong foot-gear.

You should prepare for the heat and cold. This can be done largely with underclothing, and this will enable you to bring your baggage into a small compass and light weight. Fifty-six pounds in the old country is about the amount that goes through without extra charge. Then the custom-house officers are always suspicious of large trunks, and will give the owners of such more or less annoyance. A fair amount of linen is desirable, though there is no trouble in getting washing done in almost any city you may stop in. Celluloid collars and cuffs for gentlemen are a fine thing, as they can be cleaned at any time, and will reduce the washing bill.

Follow the above, and you will have no trouble in arranging your wardrobe. I am indebted to a lady for the following suggestions in regard to articles most needed. A serge or similar dress of wool is suitable for ocean and ordinary travel, the skirt made of short walking length. The present fashion of skirt and fancy waists seems to supply a variety of costumes for all seasons without increasing the baggage much, one black silk answering where more dress is required; and, with a few fresh laces and ribbons, one can make quite a smart appearance. For the donkey riding in Egypt, a mohair dress would be desirable, as it easily sheds dust. If partly worn, it will be good enough. A common divided skirt or equestrian tights or both are quite desirable; a straw hat, with a sash (called a puggery) of light silk or lawn fastened around it, falling in the back to protect the back of the head and neck from the sun; also a large, light gauze veil to protect the face from the dust and flies.

A white parasol or small umbrella lined with green is almost a necessity, and can be easily carried while riding. Carry several pairs of partly worn kid gloves. This costume will be equally suitable for horseback riding through Palestine, with the addition of a water-proof and rubbers. The white parasol is a good protection from the sudden showers which often greet one in passing over the mountains of Lebanon. Do not fail to have an unlined flannel wrapper, which can be worn over the ordinary night clothing. It is necessary for the camping, and will be found very comfortable in most hotels and on the steamers.

The common crocheted slippers should also be a part of the wardrobe; for throughout Syria the floors are mostly of stone or cement, and sometimes there are no rugs.

A yard of common white lace will be found very desirable as a screen from flies, etc., if one would take a nap in comfort on the Nile.

The great bugbear is seasickness, which is the oldest and yet the most modern disease we know anything about. Its symptoms, effects, and results are probably the same now as they were when Jonah shipped from Jaffa to Tarshish. Jonah was not a sailor; and, when the ocean became so rough, he no doubt was seasick in his bunk, and did not care a picayune whether they threw him overboard or not. It seems that the whale that swallowed him caught the disease, and threw up Jonah after three days,--the only case of contagion we know of. The stomach seems to be the troublesome member; and, if you could leave it at home or put it in your trunk, there would be but little trouble in crossing the ocean.

The number of remedies is great; and, whichever one you take, you are liable to wish you had taken the other. Drinking mineral water with lemon in it a few days before sailing is said to be a preventive. Put a capsicum plaster on the pit of the stomach the day you sail. This I believe to be as good a remedy as can be found. Bromide of soda is another panacea, and no doubt a good one. You had better take with you a rubber hot-water bottle and a small medicine chest, with laxatives, astringents, remedies for colds and fever attacks,--these not especially for the ocean voyage, but to have with you in all your travels. However, the best remedy is, take care of yourself, and make up your mind that you are not going to be sick, certainly so when on the ocean. Stay on deck, pay but little attention to the sea, whether smooth or rough, be indifferent as possible to that part of your surroundings; and, if you have to feed the fishes, go to the leeward side of the boat, and not to the windward. If you find the waves are getting the upper hand of you, then take to your berth, and keep on your back until the sea becomes smooth.

Occasionally you will find persons that have to stay in their berth the whole sea voyage, but these are rare cases. The crews that man our ocean steamers are, as a rule, very polite and attentive, and of course expect to receive tips, which should not be given until the last day. Common fees are as follows: bedroom steward, $2; two table waiters, $1.25 each; the stewardess, $1, unless you have to call on her often, then pay according to services rendered; deck steward, $1, unless you need extra attention, then you will desire to give him more.

You had better secure your steamer chair, if you wish for any, as soon as you go aboard, rental $1 each. If they have a band, as they probably will, you will be asked to contribute for that. As to the amount, you will be governed by the ear for music you may have. So you see it will be an easy matter to get rid of eight or ten dollars, although there is no compulsion in any of these tips; but a person who wishes to take a foreign trip and get along without tips bad better wear a coat of mail, and expect to receive the anathema of all the waiters of a foreign land. Tips in the Old World are the custom. The waiters work for low wages or none at all; and, if they are polite and attentive, I enjoy seeing them have a few loose shillings about them when I bid them good-by. Cook & Sons and Henry Gaze & Sons are the two old established firms of tourist agents in the old country, and are very reliable firms. Raymond & Whitcomb have recently commenced tours abroad. Their service in this country has been excellent, none better to travel with. These firms usually charge about $10 a day, but you are relieved of all care and anxiety. A small party can go independently, and hire their guide when and wherever they may need one, as they can be found in any country, price from two to four dollars per day. This divided among six or eight amounts to but a trifle. In that way a party can travel for six or seven dollars per day; and you can be quite independent, stay as long or as short a time in a place as you please. If you have some in your party that can speak French or German, it will help you wonderfully. Have your passport, and with your letter of credit you can get English or French gold, which is good in any country.

The money of the country you are in you should get rid of before leaving that country to enter another. If there is no other way, and you have your wife with you, hand it to her; for she will very quickly find curiosities and articles you will like to bring home with you, which will soon clean out the loose change you may have about you. Heavy overcoats for gentlemen taking a sea voyage are the things to have, and fur cloaks and steamer rugs for ladies. Below you will find the denominations of money of different countries, giving their value in American coin, which will be well for any one to study that is going into those countries. Many people are exceedingly afraid of drinking the water in a foreign land. There may be those that enjoy that delusion for the sake of an excuse to drink wine and beer; but there are many that would prefer the water if it could be taken with safety; and there is no doubt that it can be, certainly in a hilly country. Use your own judgment in the matter. When you think there is danger, drink tea or coffee or water that has been boiled; and your countenance will be more charming than it would have been, had you confined yourself to the wine and beer of the land. Regarding hotel carriages, drives, donkey rides, etc., always make your contracts beforehand.

_German coin._ _U.S. coin._ Carolin $4.92 Groschen (1/30 thaler) .02-1/3 Heller (1 pfennig) .00-1/4 Kreutzer (1/30 mark) .00-2/3 Krone (10 marks) 2.38 Mark (100 pfennigs) .24-1/4 Thaler (3 marks) .71-1/2

_English coin._ _U.S. coin._ Pound (20 shillings) $4.85 Crown (5 shillings) 1.21 Florin (2 shillings) .48-1/2 Guinea (21 shillings) 5.09-1/4 Penny (1/12 shilling) .02 Shilling (12 pence) .24

_Turkish coin._ _U.S. coin._ Asper (1/120 piastre) Beshlik (5 piastres) $0.21 Lira (100 piastres) 4.40 Medjidie (20 piastres) .88 Piastre .04 Purse (500 piastres) 21.73 Shereefee 227.00

_Italian coin._ _U.S. coin._ Marengo (20 francs) $3.86 Scudo (5 lire) .97 Lire (100 centimes) .19-1/2 Soldo (1/20 lire) .01 Testone .32

_French coin._ _U.S. coin._ Centime (1/100 franc) $0.00-1/5 Decime (1/10 franc) .02 Franc .19-1/2 Sou (1/20 franc) .01

Transcriber’s Notes

Perceived typographical errors have been silently corrected.

Archaic and unusual spelling has been retained as in the original.

Illustrations have been moved nearer to the text to which they refer. As a result, the page numbers listed in the illustrations table may be incorrect.