DkVII500i Provided by University Library of Tübingen Transcribed with Tesseract

This work is protected by copyright or related property rights but available in Open Access. The right of use and especially the right to reproduction is only granted within the legal limits of copyright law or due to the consent of the copyright holder.

 A tramp abroad Twain, Mark et = it s A 2 s, o 3% s S 2ot (2 i SR - Y £ e TR by & P B W & % A o i = o ~ @y ey 4 7 Ve 2R ;s oo * £ Z 4 AR $ s &5 el 4 P b i £ AN & & \ | G ¥ Y %, & TS 7 = 2 ke Ry e v, b A % 4 g 4 o B8 G Ji v i ¢ A Ve £ Qn 3 S > R A (% Vit o (s Ayt B, Hhd A e A e b2y ® Py ;3 Dl o o ] %flfx‘ /i S B % Loa LN e e @ \. 0 £ omait %, Sisa NI 2<528015896 021 ——— 4 UbTURINGEN §< Iz ~ RRTRA f a {crnst Hapr | Duchbindereis Papiert | 4 t Happ e pingen Ch A TRAMP ABROAD 1 BY MARK TWAIN —S Bt ° THE INNOCENTS ABROAD’ ‘THE NEW PILGRIM’S PROGRESS AUTHOR OF T SAWVER’ ‘AN IDLE EXCURSION’ ETC. S <z 7 B\ . S 5 & S ) 2\ \ Q = e III o o~ 4 NEW EDITION London CLEAT 1O & WINDUS, PICCADILL W 1884 t oooury 0\ o hud b €I dhtol LONDON : PRINTED BY , | SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET QUA RE Il AND PARLIAMENT STREET m i Ity Vi ¥ 31 il d V. 1}3’4» 10 & Toy o Vards i £ & Br: @ WL & Drig; lon 1an {1 BInG momen |V ang th€( I may e a g 1t | L eresting 0f Utenhero Ty of the by fo ,Jlxe Langiop fl VAl e, m B 0f U ARt0p¢ 130p tion of f Chanly e yy il A TRAIME ABROAD, CHAPTER L Oxe day it occurred to me that it had been many years since the world had been afforded the spectacle of a man adventurous enough to undertake a journey through Europe on foot. After much thought, I decided that I was a person fitted to furnish to mankind this spectacle. So I determined to do it. This was in March, 1878. T looked about me for the right sort of person to accompany me in the capacity of agent, and finally hired a Mr. Harris for this service. It was also my purpose to study art while in Europe. Mr. Harris was in sympathy with me in this. He was as much of an enthusiast in art as I was, and not less anxious to learn to paint. I desired to learn the German language; so did Harris. Towards the middle of April we sailed in the ¢ Holsatia,’ Captain Brands, and had a very pleasant trip indeed. After a brief rest at Hamburg, we made preparations for a long pedestrian trip southward in the soft spring weather, but at the last moment we changed the programme, for private reasons, and took the express train. We made a short halt at Frankfort-on-the-Main, and found it an interesting city. I should have liked to visit the birth-place of Guttenberg, but it could not be done, as no memorandum of the site of the house has been kept. So we spent an hour in the Goethe mansion instead. The city permits this house to belong to private parties, instead of gracing and dignifying herself with the honour of possessing and protecting it. Frankfort is one of the sixteen cities which have the distine- tion of being the place where the following incident occurred. Charlemagne, while chasing the Saxons (as he said), or being B 2 A TRAMP ABROAD. gl 2t chased by them (as they said), arrived at the bank of the river at jiy dawn, in a fog. The enemy were either before him or behind him ; but in any case he wanted to get across, very badly. Ie (! fpuidng g e would have given anything for a_guide, but none was to be had. Int he Presently he saw a deer, followed by her young, approach the water. He watched her, judging that she would seek a ford, and foll lown he was right. She waded over, and the army followed. So a great Frankish victory or defeat was gained or avoided; and in order to commemorate the episode, Charlemagne commanded a M city to be built there, which he named Frankfort—the ford of 4 ggropflIiGU the Franks. None of the other cities where this event happened musie dcl were named from it. This is good evidence that Frankfort was the first place it occurred at. K C Frankfort has another distinction—it is the birthplace of the i ther Black arn German alphabet : or at least of the German word for alphabet— Buchstaben. They say that the first movable types were made and his on birch sticks—Buchstabe—hence the name. ments, a I was taught a lesson in political economy in Frankfort. I Koight ¥ had brought from home a box containing a thousand very cheap and noth adranced cigars. By way of experiment I stepped into a little shop in a queer old back street, took four gaily decorated boxes of wax nd bege matches and three cigars, and laid down a silver piece worth 48 ftivl, cents. The man gave me 43 cents change. seps e ¢ In Frankfort everybody wears clean clothes, and I think we {hought noticed that this strange thing was the case in Hamburg too, and dancer, in the villages along the road. Even in the narrowest and poorest fion he and most ancient quarters of Frankfort meat and clean clothes asee0nd were the rule. The little children of both sexes were nearly And as for the always nice enough to take into a body’s lap. aancer, uniforms of the soldiers, they were newness and brightness carried to perfection. One could never detect a smirch or a grain of dust upon them. The street car conductors and drivers wore pretty uniforms, which seemed to be just out of the bandbox, and their manners were as fine as their clothes. Tn one of the shops I had the luck to stumble upen a book which has charmed me nearly to death. It is entitled ¢ The il Legends of the Rhine from Basle to Rotterdam,” by F. J. Kiefer; 7 fe translated by L. W. Garnham, B.A. luflw All tourists mention the Rhine legends—in that sort of way t;t‘rec TN which quietly pretends that the mentioner has been familiar with them all his life, and that the reader cannot possibly be ignorant Hack So this little book fed sid wy of them—but no tourist ever tells them. me in a very hungry place; and I, in my turn, intend to feed my i, fhe iy reader, with one or two little lunches from the same larder. I ¥ith { 4 TRAMP ABROAD. 8 th@ TiVQr a 0 behiyg ghall not mar Garnham’s translation by meddling with its Eng- ady, g, lish; for the most toothsome thing about it is its quaint fashion 0 b hag, of building English sentences on the German plan,—and punctuat- Moach th ing them according to no plan at all. £ ford> ang In the chapter devoted to ¢ Legends of Frankfort’ I find the Wed, G4 following : s and § ¢ THE KNAVE OF BERGEN. nmanded e ford of ¢In Frankfort at the Romer was a great mask-ball, at the > coronation festival, and in the illuminated saloon, the clanging happened music invited to dance, and splendidly appeared the rich toilets LKIOM yyag and charms of the ladies, and the festively costumed Princes and Knights. All seemed pleasure, joy, and roguish gayety, only one lace of the alphabet— of the numerous guests had a gloomy exterior; but exactly the ele made black armour in which he walked about excited general attention, and his tall figure, as well as the noble propriety of his move- ‘Who the ankfort, | ments, attracted especially the regards of the ladies. Knight was? Nobody could guess, for his Vizier was well closed, very cheep and nothing made him recognisable. Proud and yet modest he o shopin 68 of wax advanced to the Empress; bowed on one knee before her seat, and begged for the favour of a waltz with the Queen of the worth 48 festival. And she allowed his request. With light and graceful steps he danced through the long saloon, with the sovereign who [ think we thought never to have found a more dexterous and excellent o too, and dancer. But also by the grace of his manner, and fine conversa- and poorest tion he knew to win the Queen, and she graciously accorded him can clothes a second dance for which he begged, a third, and a fourth, as well as others were not refused him. ere Leatly How all regarded the happy g8 for the dancer, how many envied him the high favour; how increased brightness curiosity, who the masked knight could be. ora grain ¢Also the Emperor became more and more excited with [vers Wore curiosity, and with great suspense one awaited the hour, when dbox, and according to mask-law, each masked guest must make himself known. This moment came, but although all others had un- 1 & book masked, the secret knight still refused to allow his features to be led *The seen, till at last the Queen, driven by curiosity, and vexed at the Kiefer; obstinate refusal ; commanded him to open his Vizier. He opened it, and none of the high ladies and knights knew him. But from - of way the crowded spectators, 2 officials advanced, who recognised the Jiar with ~ black dancer, and horror and terror spread in the saloon, as they said who the supposed knight was. It was the executioner of 1 ignornnt hook {d Bergen. But glowing with rage, the King commarded to seize the criminal and lead him to death, who had ventured to dance ) feed mY arder. with the Queen; so disgraced the Empress, and insulted the B2 £ A T.RAJ[P ABROAD. crown. The culpable threw himself at the feet of the Emperor; quld £8 : and said,— e ¢“Indeed I have heavily sinned against all noble guests eaten 8" assembled here, but most heavily against you my sovereignand my dow 0l queen. The Queen is insulted by my haughtiness equal to treason, pgad ¥ but no punishment even blood, will not be able to wash out the brooght P ; disgrace, which you have suffered by me. Therefore, oh King ! 8 peautilt allow me to propose a remedy, to efface the shame, and to render (ther serf it as if not done. Draw your sword and knight me, then 1 will it o e throw down my gauntlet, to every one who dares to speak dis- Joisted 8 respectfully of my king.” (.[ m{\&]‘yfl‘,fi ¢ The Emperor was surprised at this bold proposal, however fhe mar0X it appeared the wisest to him; “You are a brave knave,” he re- them off ¥ plied after a moment’s consideration, “ however, your advice is roughtot good, and displays prudence, as your offence shows adventurous walktoth courage. Well then "—and gave him the knight-stroke—* so I it wasnot raise you to nobility, who begged for grace for your offence now the servar kneels before me, rise as knight; knavish you have acted, and the porte Knave of Bergen shall you be called henceforth,” and gladly the then he p Black knight rose. Three cheers were given in honour of the +¢h bl Emperor, and loud cries of joy testified the approbation with Tag unr which the Queen danced still once with the Knave of Bergen.’ to the ke 1 1l (! ad done, CIIAPTER \ el 1 1L TnNew ) HEIDEL DETI P RG. arowd of oaly cay ina oy WE stopped at an hotel by the railway station. Next morning, as we sat in my room waiting for breakfast to come up, we got a on their | fullof b good deal interested in something which was going on over the way in front of another hotel. Tirst, the personage who is o ‘i:fiem called the portier (who is not the porter, but is a sort of first- 0ltlon mate of an hotel) ! appeared at the door in a spick and span new il T Nowe: blue cloth uniform, decorated with shining brass buttons, and with bands of gold lace around his cap and wristbands; and he 0 bl wore white gloves, too. He shed an official glance upon the Two women-servants E situation, and then began to give orders. i came out with pails and brooms and brushes, and gave the side- L, thej N i walk a thorough scrubbing; meanwhile two others secrubbed the gl four marble steps which led up to the door; beyond these we 1V0h0dy I | hngg 1 See Appendix A, ang imme W0 qp A TRAMP ABROAD. 4 : Empe!'or, bl Zlegty staircase. could see some men-servants taking up the carpet of the grand This carpet was carried away and the last grain of dust uang py beaten and banged and swept out of it ; then brought back and put Wtenggy down again. The brass stair rods received an exhaustive polish- 30 ot the ing and were returned to their places. Now a troop of servants 00 Ky | brought pots and tubs of blooming plants and formed them into 0 ven ey a beautiful jungle about the door and the base of the staircase. !len 1 will Other servants adorned all the balconies of the various stories ek ds. with flowers and banners; others ascended to the roof and Now came some more hoisted a great flag on a staff there. | howerey chambermaids and retouched the sidewalk, and afterwards wiped Cn ) b e the marble steps with damp cloths, and finished by dusting advice iy them off with feather brushes. Now a broad black carpet was Venturoyy brought out and laid down the marble steps and out across the side- ok walk to the kerbstone. The portier cast his eye along it, and found CE now it was not absolutely straight ; he commanded it to be straightened ; and the servants made the effort—made several efforts, in fact—but the portier was not satisfied. He finally had it taken wup, and ur of :Lg then he put it down himself and got it right. n with At this stage of the proceedings a narrow, bright red carpet Sergen, was unrolled and stretched from the top of the marble steps to the kerbstone, along the centre of the black carpet. This red path cost the portier more trouble than even the black one had done. But he patiently fixed and refixed it until it was exactly right and lay precisely in the middle of the black carpet. In New York these performances would have gathered a mighty crowd of curious and intensely interested spectators; but here it only captured an audience of half-a-dozen little boys, who stood morning, in a Tow across the pavement, some with their school knapsacks on their backs and their hands in their pockets, others with arms e got a full of bundles, and all absorbed in the show. orer the Occasionally one who 13 of them skipped irreverently over the carpet and took up a position on the other side. of first This always visibly annoyed the portier. nan new Now came a waiting interval. The landlord, in plain clothes, | an 16 and bareheaded, placed himself on the bottom marble step, abreast and | the portier, who stood on the other end of the same step ; six or pon the eight waiters, gloved, barcheaded, and wearing their whitest servants linen, their whitest cravats, and their finest swallow-tails, grouped he side- themselves about these chiefs, but leaving the carpet-way clear. hed the Nobody moved or spoke any more, but only waited. hiese W8 In a short time the shrill piping of a coming train washeard, and immediately grou ps of people began to gather in the street. Two or three open ca rriages arrived, and deposited some maids- A TRAMP ABROAD. (5 i fesive i f 00, of-honour and some male officials at the hotel. Presently another open carriage brought the Grand-Duke of Baden, a stately man ghot TeX emmy W in uniform, who wore the handsome brass-mounted, steel-spiked ffers— helmet of the army on his head. Last came the Empress of aten D] Germany and the Grand Duchess of Baden in a close carriage; o these passed through the low bowing groups of servants and dis- Sight f0 appeared in the hotel, exhibiting to us only the backs of their lvity gm0t heads, and then the show was over. It appears to be as difficult to land a monarch as it is to Bei lad, and launch a ship. But as to Heidelberg. The weather was growing pretty down upo So ‘we left the valley and took fio ot warm—very warm, in fact. quarters at the Schloss Hotel, on the hill, above the Castle. broadens; Heidelberg lies at the mouth of a narrow gorge—a gorge the e 0Tt ¢ shape of a shepherd’s crook ; if one looks up it he perceives that and il it is about straight for a mile and a half, then makes a sharp fnally me 1 have curve to the right and disappears. This gorge—along whose bottom pours the swift Neckar—is confined between (or cloven 3 il through) a couple of long, steep ridges, a thousand feet high and The f densely wooded clear to their summits, with the exception of one el b section which has been shaved and put under cultivation. comfortab These ridges are chopped off at the mouth of the gorge, and form aast two bold and conspicuous headlands, with Heidelberg nestling outto be between them; from their bases spreads away the vast dim ex- sl er dies panse of the Rhine valley, and into this expanse the Neckar goes 4 nfo the wandering in shining curves, and is presently lost to view. onfhe l Now, if one turns and looks up the gorge once more, he will sitetched sce the Schloss Hotel on the right, perched on a precipice over- with b looking the Neckar,—a precipice which is so sumptuously these i cushioned and draped with foliage that no glimpse of the rock of thear The building seems very airily situated. It has the appears. facl blin appearance of being on a shelf halfway up the wooded mountain seemed f side; and as it is remote and isolated, and very white, it makes inthe a strong mark against the lofty leafy rampart at its back. ftat g by This hotel had a feature which was a decided novelty ; and Ll ad()rm one which might be adopted with advantage by any house which (g is perched in a commanding situation. This feature may be described as a series of glass-enclosed parlours clinging to the {0e g bfl7byl outside of the house, one against each and every bedchamber and (0n drawing-room. They are like long, narrow, high-ceiled bird- ol [y a. ot cages hung against the building. My room was a corner room, and had two of these things, a north one and a west one. Ong From the north cage one looks up the Neckar gorge; from the west one he looks down it. This last affords the most ex- A TRAMP ABROAD. 7 h othep tensive view, and it is one of the loveliest that can be imagined, Hely gy 3€l.spiked too. Out of a billowy upheaval of vivid green foliage, a rifle- ress of shot removed, rises the huge ruin of Heidelberg Castle,! with empty window arches, ivy-mailed battlements, mouldering Uty S and dis. towers—the Lear of inanimate nature,—deserted, discrowned, beaten by the storms, but royal still, and beautiful. It is a fine S 0f theiy sight to see the evening sunlight suddenly strike the leafy de- S 16 15 o clivity at the Castle’s base and dash up it and drench it as with a luminous spray, while the adjacent groves are in deep shadow. 1T pretty Behind the Castle swells a great dome-shaped hill, forest- clad, and beyond that a nobler and loftier one. The Castle looks fmd ook down upon the compact brown-roofed town ; and from the town le Now the view two picturesque old bridges span the river. gorge the broadens; through the gateway of the sentinel headlands you ieives that gaze out over the wide Rhine plain, which stretches away, softly larp and richly-tinted, grows gradually and dreamily indistinct, and ng whose \ finally melts imperceptibly into the remote horizon. or cloven 1 have never enjoyed a view which had such a serene and high and satisfying charm about it as this one gives. on of one The first night we were there, we went to bed and to sleep ltivation, early ; but I awoke at the end of two or three hours, and lay a and form comfortable while listening to the soothing patter of the rain - nestling against the balcony windows. I took it to be rain, but it turned f dim ex- out to be only the murmur of the restless Neckar, tumbling over ar §OE8 her dikes and dams far below, in the gorge. I got up and went EW, into the west balcony and saw a wonderful sight. Away down re, he will on the level, under the black mass of the Castle, the town lay, pice over stretched along the river, its intricate cobweb of streets jewelled npfuously with twinkling lights; there were rows of lights on the bridges; f the rock these flung lances of light upon the water, in the black shadows t has the of the arches; and away at the extremity of all this fairy spec- mountait tacle blinked and glowed a massed multitude of gas jets which it makes seemed to cover acres of ground; it was as if all the diamonds in the world had been spread out there. I did not know before, jl‘ty; and that a half mile of sextuple railway tracks could be made such se which an adornment. may be One thinks Heidelberg by day-—with its surroundings—is the last possibility of the beautiful; but when he sees Heidel- g 1o the berg by night, a fallen Milky Way, with that glittering railway nber and led bird- constellation pinned to the border, he requires time to consider e 10011y upon the verdict. One never tires of poking about in the dense woods that y i 00 from ! See Appendix B. most €% 8 A TRAMP ABROAD. ¢ dors st thri clothe all these lofty Neckar hills to their tops The great deeps {hen e 0! of a boundless forest have a beguiling and impressive charm in any country; but German legends and fairy tales have given s these an added charm. Ofl nfiufi‘ They have peopled all that region with Tl gnomes, and dwarfs, and all sorts of mysterious and uncanny creatures. At the time I am writing of, I had been reading so ol clled in the \roo much of this literature that sometimes I was not sure but I was beginning to believe in the gnomes and fairies as realities llm‘ed it nlld . One afternoon I got lost in the woods about a mile from the hotel, and presently fell into a train of dreamy thought about ¢t me 48 free 418 animals which talk, and kobolds, and enchanted folk, and the ¢moara 10 rest of the pleasant legendary stuff; and so, by stimulating my fancy, I finally got to imagining I glimpsed small flitting shapes puch, 18 Cud&d 10 E here and there down the columned aisles of the forest It was a place which was peculiarly meet for the occasion It was a pine ajojed ] done. TLf wood, with so thick and soft a carpet of brown needles that one’s footfall made no more sound than if he was treading on wool con Jaughy ] meas Ion” the tree-trunks were as round and straight and smooth as pillars, ] knew and stood close together ; they were bare of branches to a point about twenty-five feet above ground, and from there upward so 0110 COnSeq Vo ) thick with boughs that not a ray of sunlight could pierce through. The world was bright with sunshine out;51do but a deep and fhing, 1 aromd 1 mellow twilight reigned in there, and also a silence so profound that T seemed to hear my own breathings Animy When I had stood ten minutes, thinking and imagining, and estion 4 getting my spirit in tune with the place, and in the right mood WO can v to enjoy the supernatural, a raven suddenly uttered a hoarse could, I sell, He croak over my head It made me start; and then I was angry because I started I looked up, and the creature was sitting on vel in 3 a limb right over me, looking down at me - 1 10UnGaIng, I felt something of the same sense of humiliation and injury which one feels when onl il he finds that a human stranger has been clandestinely inspecting could g him in his privacy and mentally commenting upon him. I eyed Was Jim B the raven, and the raven eyed me. Nothing ‘was said during 0“1\ ali some seconds Then the bird stepped a little way along his W ST £ AELY ey limb to get a better point of observation, lifted his wings, stuck Lt'amma his head far down below his shoulders toward me, and croaked ad ax Tea 1} again—a croak with a distinctly insulting expression about it. At gy If he had spoken in English he could not have said any more tk engv plainly than he did say in raven, ¢ Well, what do you want ey i 10 10‘ here?’ I felt as foolish as if I had been caught in some mean However, I h 18 Weg ¢] act by a responsible being, and reproved for it. Sl he made no reply ; I would not bandy words with a raven The adversary waited a while, with his shoulders still lifted, his head There has by A TRAMP ABROAD. 0 reat degp! thrust down between them, and his keen bright eye fixed on me; Clam 1 then he threw out two or three more insults, which I could not fl\:e giVen understand, further than that I knew a portion of them consisted glon with of language not used in church. - Uncany I still made no reply. Now the adversary raised his head refldiflg 8 and called. There was an answering croak from a little distance ‘hUt Lyag 63, in the wood—evidently a croak of inquiry. The adversary ex- plained with enthusiasm, and the other raven dropped everything from the and came. The two sat side by side on the limb and discussed bt about me as freely and offensively as two great naturalists might ) and the discuss a new kind of bug. The thing became more and more lating my embarrassing. They called in another friend. This was too ng Shapts much. I saw that they had the advantage of me, and so I con- b was g cluded to get out of the scrape by walking out of it. They Wasa ping enjoyed my defeat as much as any low white people could have that one's done. They craned their necks and laughed at me (for a raven - on ool can laugh, just like a man), they squalled insulting remarks after a8 pillars, me as long as they could see me. They were nothing but ravens o a point —1I knew that—what they thought about me could be a matter upward so of no consequence—and yet when even a raven shouts after you: e through, ‘What a hat!’ ¢O, pull down your vest!’ and that sort of deep and thing, it hurts you and humiliates you, and there is no getting around it with fine reasoning and pretty arguments. profound There can be no Animals talk to each other, of course. ng, and question about that; but I suppose there are very few people 0! who can understand them. I never knew but one man who ght mood 1 a hoars could. I knew he could, however, because he told me so him- Was angry self.- He was a middle-aged, simple-hearted miner who had lived in a lonely corner of California, among the woods and sitling on mething of mountains, a good many years, and had studied the ways of his foels when only neighbours, the beasts and the birds, until he believed he This inspecting could accurately translate any remark which they made. was Jim Baker. According to Jim Baker, some animals have . Leyed only a limited education, and use only very simple words, and id during scarcely ever a comparison or a flowery figure; whereas, certain along his other animals have a large vocabulary, a fine command of language ngs, stuck and a ready and fluent delivery; consequently these latter talk d croaked a great deal; they like it; they are conscious of their talent, and about it they enjoy ¢ showing off. Baker said that, after long and any MOTe =5 == careful observation, he had come to the conclusion that the blue- ot Wanb - jays were the best talkers he had found among birds and beasts. ome mean Said he :— owever He e ¢ There’s more ¢o a blue-jay than any other creature. 1. has got more moods, and more different kinds of feelings than , his bead 10 A TRAMP ABROAD. other creatures ; and mind you, whatever a blue-jay feels, he can put into language. And no mere commonplace language ~ either, but rattling, out-and-out book-talk—and bristling with And as for command of lan- metaphor, too—just bristling ! guage—why you never see a blue-jay get stuck for a word. No man ever did. They just boil out of him ! And another thing: T've noticed a good deal, and there’s no bird, or cow, or anything It that uses as good grammar as a blue-jay. You may say a cat N & Je 10 uses good grammar. Well, a cat does—but you let a cat get in {his excited, once ; you let a cat get to pulling fur with another cat on *“ _heen a shed, nights, and yowll hear grammar that will give you the 0ne lockjaw. Ignorant people think it’s the noise which fighting cats fhe 12 make that is so aggravating, but it ain’t so; it’s the sickening ¢ Ol grammar they use. Now I've never heard a jay use bad grammar and but very seldom ; and when they do, they are as ashamed as a o " human; they shut right down and leave. D ‘You may call a jay a bird. Well, so he is, in a measure— 00 because he’s got feathers on him, and don’t belong to no church, i I perhaps; but otherwise he is just as much a human as you be. And TI'll tell you for why. A jay’s gifts, and instincts, and {he cc‘:::" | (0L feelings, and interests, cover the whole ground. A jay hasn’t got any more principle than a Congressman. A jay will lie, a ST Ttw O jay will steal, a jay will deceive, a jay will betray; and four times out of five, a jay will go back on his solemnest promise. €y ) The sacredness of an obligation is a thing which you can’t cram into no blue-jay’s head. Now, on top of all this, there’s another featon, yot thing ; (o) a jay can outswear any gentleman in the mines. You Tocated L think a cat can swear. Well, a cat can ; but you give a blue-jay The 8 subject that calls for his reserve powers, and where is your glanges up cat? Don’t talk to m:e—I know too much about this thing. tal both a And there’s yet another thing: in the one little particular of LaintinIn down g scolding—just good, clean, out-and-out scolding-—a blue-jay can g lay over anything, human or divine. Yes, sir, a jay is everything andy s that a man is. A jay can cry, a jay can laugh, a jay can feel ]v il I shame, a jay can reason and plan and discuss, a jay likes gossip 16, an d I( and scandal, a jay has got a sense of humour, a jay knows when ks ey . he is an ass just as well as you do—maybe better. If a ja 11 g, ! ain’t human, he’d better take in his sign, that's all. Now I'm e i going to tell you a perfectly true fact about some blue-jays,’ ok ]!010, and t i, Jy Vgl Dl of the o A TRAMP ABROAD, 11 feels by !anglmge ling yith 0 of Jape CHAPTER IIL ord, o her thing; BAKER’S BLUE-JAY YARN. ajthing Saya caf ¢ WaeN I first begun to understand jay language correctly, there 3 af get was a little incident happened here. Seven years ago, the last her cat on man in this region but me, moved away. There stands his e you the house,—been empty ever since; a log house, with a plank ;hting cats roof—just one big room, and no more; no ceiling—nothing sickening between the rafters and the floor. Well, one Sunday morning I | gramumar was sitting out here in front of my cabin, with my cat, taking amed as g the sun, and looking at the blue hills, and listening to the leaves rustling so lonely in the trees, and thinking of the home away measure— yonder in the States, that I hadn’t heard from in thirteen years,when 10 church, a blue-jay lit on that house, with an acorn in his mouth, and says, as you be, “ Hello, I reckon I have struck something.” When he spoke, incts, and the acorn dropped out of his mouth and rolled down the roof, of course, but he didn’t care; his mind was all on the thing he had jay hasn't He cocked his head to will lie,a struck. It was a knot-hole in the roof. and four one side, shut one eye, and put the other one to the hole, like a f promise, ’possum looking down a jug; then he glanced up with his bright can't cram eyes, gave a wink or two with his wings—which signifies grati- ¢'s another fication, you understand, and says, “It looks like a hole, it’s nes. You located like a hole,—blamed if I don’t believe it ¢s a hole ! ” a blue-jay ¢Then he cocked his head down and took another look; he glances up perfectly joyful, this time; winks his wings and his re 33 your If this thing. tail both, and says, “ O, no, this ain’t no fat thing, I reckon ! I ain’t in luck !—why it's a perfectly elegant hole!”” So he flew rticular of 1g-Jay Can down and got that acorn, and fetched it up and dropped it in, and was just tilting his head back, with the heavenliest smile on yerything his face, when all of a sudden he was paralysed into a listening y can feel kes gossip attitude, and that smile faded gradually out of his countenance like breath off'n a razer, and the queerest look of surprise took 0TS when its place. Then he says, “ Why, I didn’t hear it fall!” He It a jay Now I'm cocked his eye at the hole again, and took a long look ; raised up and shook his head; stepped around to the other side of the e hole, and took another look from that side; shook his head j again, He studied a while, then he just went into the details— walked round and round the hole, and spied into it from every point of the compass. No use. Now he took a thinking attitude on the comb of the roof, and scratched the back of his head with A TRAMP ABROAD. EC[CH e g don’ el his right foot a minute, and finally says, ¢« Well, it's too many for ool 4 il 0088 me, that’s certain; must be a mighty long hole; however, I ain’t got no time to fool around here, I got to "tend to business; s Jou pu I reckon i’s all right—chance it, anyway.” | it ake 1 “So he flew off and fetched another acorn and dropped it in, 6y o and tried to flirt his eye to the hole quick enough to see what become of it, but he was too late. \(3 14 ol He held his eye there as nded ( much as a minute; then he raised up and sighed, and says, “ Confound it, I don’t seem to understand this thing, no way ; ave don 1 however, I'll tackle her again.” (4 He fetched another acorn, and Th done his level best to sce what become of it, but he couldn’t. § Aol He says, “ Well, I never struck no such a hole as this, before; % Thet 3! Then he and ¢ T'm of the opinion it’s a totally new kind of a hole.” begun to get mad. Ie held in for a spell, walking up and down il ol the comb of the roof and shaking his head and muttering to \i i el UK. I er€ himself; but his feelings got the upper hand of him, presently, 1l and he broke loose and cussed himself black in the face. I never :v he doo see a bird take on so about a little thing. When he got through el 0 0 he walks to the hole and looks in again for half a minute; then e mocked ¢ 5; he says, “ Well, you're a long hole, and a deep hole, and a a0 = mighty singular hole altogether—but I've started in to fill you, el 1 a whot and 'm d—d if I don’¢ fill you, if it takes a hundred years!” ¢ And with that, away he went. You never see a bird work 80 since you was born. He laid into his work like a nigger, and the way he hove acorns into that hole for about two hours and a — A of half was one of the most exciting and astonishing spectacles I ho e an ever struck. a nd ITe never stopped to take a look any more—he tie ne 'just hove ’em in and went for more. Well, at last he could W hardly flop his wings, he was so tuckered out. e comes a- th ICE drooping down, once more, sweating like an ice-pitcher, drops U his acorn in and says, “ Now I guess I've got the bulge on you Iy by this time!” So he bent down for a look. If youll believe M, ly me, when his head come up again he was just pale with rage. SRENY AL 1 1 He says, “I've shovelled acorns enough in there to keep the Andf] family thirty years, and if I can see a sign of one of ’em I wish I Mo Oa Mooty may land in a museum with a belly full of sawdust in two al minutes ! ”’ 8 Wy 1t By (13 ‘He just had strength enough to crawl up on to the comb, r———— 0 and lean his back agin the chimbly, and then he collected his impressions, and begun to free his mind. I see in a second that what I had mistook for profanity in the mines was only just the rudiments, as you may say. — T ¢ Another jay was going by, and heard him doing his devo- tions, and stops to inquire what was up. The sufferer told him 4 TRAMP ABROAD. 13 ’St 00 m{my fi‘r the whole circumstance, and says, ¢ Now yonder’s the hole, and i OWever, | if you don’t believe me go and look for yourself.” So this fellow to b\lSinegs; went and looked, and comes back and says, ¢ How many did you say you put in there? ” “ Not any less than two tons,” says the sufferer. IIe couldn’c St 3, The other jay went and looked again. o1 105 g seem to make it out, so he raised a yell, and three more jays come. 67 therg o They all examined the hole, they all made the sufferer ‘8( and Says, tell it over again, then they all discussed 1it, and got off as many I, 210 way leather-headed opinions about it as an average crowd of humans \ T acom, gnq could have done. r | g b e oqulgy, ¢ They called in more jays; then more and more, till pretty this, '0021‘1'0; soon this whole region ’peared to have a blue flush about it. ¢ There must have been five thousand of them; and such another Then he ' up and dowy jawing and disputing and ripping and cussing, you never heard. Lvery jay in the whole lot put his eye to the hole and delivered Wuitering t iim, Presently v l a more chuckle-headed opinion about the mystery than the jay that went there before him. They examined the house all over, ‘face. L never go throusy too. The door was standing half open, and at last one old jay happened to go and licht on it and look in. Of course that minute; then ) hole, and 4 knocked the mystery galley-west in a second. There lay the acorns, scattered all over the floor. He flopped his wings and in to fill you, d years I)l raised a whoop. ¢ Come here!” he says, “ come here, every- ¢ a bird work body; hang’d if this fool hasn’t been trying to fill up a house with acorns !’) a nigger, and They all came a-swooping down like a blue cloud, 0 hours an all da and as each fellow lit on the door and took a glance, the whole absurdity of the contract that that first jay had tackled hit him g spectacles [ home. and he fell over backwards suffocating with laughter, and any more—he the next jay took his place and done the same. Jast he could ¢ Well, sir, they roosted around here on the house-top and Tle comes a- . the trees for an hour, and guffawed over that thing like human cher, drops beings. It ain’t any use to tell me a blue-jay hasn’t got a sense on you of humour, because I know better. And memory, too. They ro'u"il helieve brought jays here from all over the United States to look down Je with rage. that hole, every summer for three years. Other birds too. to keep the And they could all see the point, except an owl that come from Yem I wish ] Nova Scotia to visit the Yo Semite, and he took this thing in dust I £N0 on his way back. He said he couldn’t see anything funny in it. But then he was a good deal disappointed about Yo Semite. o the comb £00. collected bis , second that nly jus the pg his devo- 0 1d him rer 10 14 A TRAMP ABROAD, fro ! ol (2 ]'y e p (i (il Jege 03 & (4 e jres 1 CHAPTER IV. g s 2 STUDENT LIFE. iy 45 he S0 s THE summer semester was in full tide; consequently the most 8 udy, 0 aitendance frequent figure in and about Heidelberg was the student. Most i of the students were Germans, of course, but the representatives e nesul au of foreign lands were very numerous. They hailed from every e, W corner of the globe,—for instruction is cheap in Heidelberg, and edll go is living, too. The Anglo-American Club, composed of i (I c:ne e Wh British and American students, had twenty-five members, and there was still much material left to draw from. of fhree suce tyo of them 1€ Nine-tenths of the Heidelberg students wore no badge or uniform; the other tenth wore caps of various colours, and There were five belonged to social organisations called ¢ corps.’ corps, each with a colour of its own; there were white caps, e omected b The famous duel- blue caps, and red, yellow, and green ones. fighting is confined to the corps’ boys. The ¢ Kneipd scems to be a speciality of theirs, too. Kneips are held, now and then, to celebrate great occasions,—like the election of a beer-king, for instance. The solemnity is simple; the five corps assemble are hard work at night, and at a signal they all fall loading themselves with {hey have o beer, out of pint mugs, as fast as possible, and each man keeps to spare fr his own count,—usually by laying aside a lucifer match for each of another, mug he empties. The election is soon decided. ‘When the Dall and into candidates can hold no more, a count is instituted, and the one going nat who has drunk the greatest number of pints is proclaimed king. thelr time b 1 I was told that the last beer-king elected by the corps,—or by iy {he Joy his own capabilities,—emptied his mug seventy-five times. No stomach could hold all that quantity at one time, of course,— il but there are ways of frequently creating a vacuum, which those al who have been much at sea will understand. AW i lf One sees so many students abroad at all hours, that he sfud Ll i b b ) i e > L SWIH'; presently begins to wonder if they ever have any working hours. e iy Some of them have, some of them hatven’t. Each can choose f Eclocl; hf‘[’(\ for himself whether he will work or play; for German university life is a very free life; it seems to have no restraints. The Withy g s Gl student does not live in the college buildings, but hires his own lodgings, in any locality he prefers, and he takes his meals when St gy Wl 1 and where he pleases. He goes to bed when it suits him, and He is not entered at gUng He h: does not get up at all unless he wants to. EHergy fOI an A TRAMP ABROAD. 156 the university for any particular length of time; so he ig likely to change about. He passes no examination upon entering college. He mecrely pays a trifling fee of five or ten dollars, receives a card entitling him to the privileges of the university, and that is the end of it. e is now ready for business,—or play, as he shall prefer. If he elects to work, he finds a large list of lectures to choose from. Ml the g He selects the subjects which he will study, and enters his name for these studies; but he can Wdent, Mg skip attendance. EDIesenty iveg (& T0m ever The result of this system is, that lecture-courses upon speci- alities of an unusual nature are often delivered to very slim Eidelberg g composed of audiences, while those upon more practical and every-day matters of education are delivered to very large ones. I heard members, gy of one case where, day after day, the lecturer’s audience consisted of three students, and always the same three. But one day 10 badge o two of them remained away. The lecturer began as usual,— S colows, gng ¢ Geentlemen,— here vere fiyg —then, without a smile, e white s, e fumous dugl- he corrected himself, saying,— ¢ Sir,)— Kneipd seem —and went on with his now and then, discourse. & beer-king, It is said that the vast majority of the Heidelberg students 0rps assemble are hard workers, and make the most of their opportunities; that emselves with they have no surplus means to spend in dissipation, and no time ch man keeps to spare for frolicking. One lecture follows right on the heels match for each of another, with very little time for the student to get out of one | When the hall and into the next; but the industrious ones manage it by d, and the one going on a trot. The professors assist them in the saving of pclaimed king, their time by being promptly in their little boxed-up pulpits corps;—or by when the hours strike, and as promptly out again when the hour o times, No finishes. I entered an empty leecture-room one day just before of course,— the clock struck. The place had simple, unpainted pine desks , which those and benches for about 200 persons. About a minute before the clock struck, a hundred and fifty urs, that he students swarmed in, rushed to their seats, immediately spread rking bows open their note-books and dipped their pens in the ink. ‘When | can choose the clock hegan to strike, a burly professor entered, was received n university with a round of applause, moved swiftly down the centre aisle, 16 faid ¢ Gentlemen,’ and began to talk as he climbed his pulpit raints. jives his oW steps; and by the time he had arrived in his box and faced hig audience, his lecture was well under way and all the pens were meals when its him, a1 going. He had no notes, he talked with prodigious rapidity and energy for an hour,—then the students began to remind him in t entered & 18 A TRAMP ABROAD. 4 ]]flhne‘“' certain well-understood ways that his time was up; he seized yarefed 0 his hat, still talking, proceeded swiftly down his pulpit steps, groatd fmi got out the last word of his discourse as he struck the floor; o, 00 1 everybody rose respectfully, and he swept rapidly down the o lump aisle and disappeared. An instant rush for some other lecture- J ] seeme room followed, and in a minute I was alone with the empty benches once more. g bk o A T Yes, without doubt, idle students are not the rule. Out of ol hat 3 eight hundred in the town, I knew the faces of only about fifty ; but these I saw everywhere and daily. They walked about the dresed you streets and the wooded hills, they drove in cabs, they boated on fhesnant 3y 0L i eI the river, they sipped beer and coffee, afternoons, in the Schloss % 480018 gardens. A good many of them wore the coloured caps of the Thwoul youl corps. They were finely and fashionably dressed, their manners 5 - seeki were quite superb, and they led an easy, careless, comfortable life. If a dozen of them sat together, and a lady or a gentleman e bas 8 which alo passed whom one of them knew and saluted, they all rose to fowork i their feet and took off their caps. The members of a corps yith an el always received a fellow-member in this way, too; but they 1’:& most 4 unl paid no attention to members of other corps; they did not seem to see them. founder e This was not a discourtesy; it was only a part of the elaborate and rigid corps etiquette. | gy, o what There seems to be no chilly distance existing between the bumbnto German students and the professor; but, on the contrary, a companionable intercourse, the opposite of chilliness and reserve. merely e Tatin. o When the professor enters a beer hall in the evening where students are gathered together, these rise up and take off their arg t0o sey caps, and invite the old gentleman to sit with them and partake. oot on th He accepts, and the pleasant talk and the beer flow for an hour already ho or two, and by-and-by the professor, properly charged and com- inthe g L oy fortable, gives a cordial good-night, while the students stand low, o mef bowing and uncovered; and then he moves on his happy way o thoge homeward with all his vast cargo of 1 ea en rning afloat in his hold. s ey Nobody finds fault or feels outraged ; no harm has been done. chosen by o 43 01 It seemed to be a part of corps etiquette to keep a dog or 80, too. I mean a corps dog,—the common property of the or- byl 001G ganisation, like the corps steward or head servant; then tkere j 18 i are other dogs, owned by individuals. 16 et ] On a summer afternoon in the Castle gardens, I have seen g six students march solemnly into the grounds, in single file, each L carrying a bright Chinese parasol and leading a prodigious dog O sy by a string. It was a very imposing spectacle. Sometimes there would be about as many dogs around the pavilion as students; and of all breeds and of all degrees of beauty and A TRAMP ABROAD. 17 U; e flzeq ugliness. These dogs had a rather dry time of it: for they Pubit sreps, were tied to the benches and had no amusement for an hour or ek the floor lly oy two at a time, except what they could get out of pawing at the n gnats, or trying to sleep and not succeeding. However, they Othey lectlu'e. got a lump of sugar occasionally—they were fond of that. | ‘Al ‘lle empty It seemed right and proper that students should indulge in dogs; but everybody else had them, too,—old men and young 1ule, (¢ of ones, old woman and nice young ladies. If there is one spec- ¥ aboug fity; tacle that is unpleasanter than another, it is that of an elegantly Ked aboug, ] dressed young lady towing a dog by a string. It is said to be 17 baated o It seems to me that some the sign and symbol of blighted love. : the Schlogg other way of advertising it might be devised, which would be just 3 0] f the as conspicuous and yet not so trying to the proprieties. ANnery It would be a mistake to suppose that the easy-going, plea- S, Comfortable I'a sure-secking student carries an empty head. Just the contrary. man He has spent nine years in the Gymnasium, under a system all 105 to which allowed him no freedom, but rigorously compelled him of 4 conps to work like a slave. Consequently he has left the gymnasium with an education which is so extensive and complete, that the 00; but they did not seem most a university can do for it is to perfect some of its pro- founder specialities. It is said that when a pupil leaves the 3 only a parg gymnasium, he not only has a comprehensive education, but he betiween the knows what he knows,—it is not befogged with uncertainty, it is e contrary, & burnt into him so that it will stay. For instance, he does not nd reserve merely read and write Greek, but speaks it; the same with the ¢ Where Latin. Foreign youth steer clear of the gymnasium ; its rules ke off their are too severe. They go to the university to put a mansard 1 and partake, roof on their whole general education; but the German student v for an hour already has his mansard roof, so he goes there to add a steeple ] and com- in the nature of some speciality, such as a particular branch of law, or medicine, or philology—Iike international law, or diseases ents stand So g happy way of the eye, or special study of the ancient Gothic tongues. this German attends only the lectures which belong to the ¢ in his hold, een done. chosen branch, and drinks his beer and tows his dog around, and has a general good time the rest of the day. He has been in eep 8 dog Or 7 of the or- | rigid bondage so long that the large liberty of university life is just what he needs and likes and thoroughly appreciates; and + then there as it cannot last for ever, he makes the most of it while it does last, and so lays up a good rest against the day that must see T have seen o fl, each him put on the chains once more and enter the slavery of official ':n or Professional life. digious dog Sometimes ayilion 88 i beauty 40 A TRAMP ABROAD. gl P i I vy it i e T I 618 ff o the fh ! CHAPTER V. hand e op 0 AT TUE STUDENTS' DUELLING-GROUND. o 0 n U 7000 {iels ok (7!{,".‘ ] OxE day in the interest of science my agent obtained permission ns to bring me to the students’ duelling-place. We crossed the This cwso river and drove up the bank a few hundred yards, then turned s " 1y e ¥ to the left, entered a narrow alley, followed it a hundred yards, and arrived at a two-story public-house; we were acquainted wad introduce We with its outside aspect, for it was visible from the hotel. yhie capy and ‘\ fiure o e led went upstairs and passed into a large whitewashed apartment, - Tt which was perhaps fifty feet long, by thirty feet wide and twenty Pfll 0D 10 There was ians or twenty-five high. It was a well-lighted place. fiere Pro Across one end and down both sides of the room no carpet. {ie lem'uer‘ i ' extended a row of tables, and at these tables some fifty or seventy- }m elr il five students ! were sitting. it ankle they ere | Some of them were sipping wine, others were playing cards, others chess, other groups were chatting together, and many were were smoking cigarettes while they waited for the coming duels Ionked I Nearly all of them wore coloured caps; there were white caps, indsome § green caps, blue caps, red caps, and bright yellow ones; so, all eore, bt now £ In the windows at htmg the five corps were present in strong force. ulesin i LWL the vacant end of the room stood six or eight long, narrow=- Jeting st bladed swords with large protecting guards for the hand, and outthe y U outside was a man at work sharpening others on a grindstone. he needed P» Te understood his business ; for when a sword left his hand one There was g could shave himself with it. e fllowed and It was observable that the young gentlemen neither bowed fieto e I to nor spoke with students whose caps differed in colour from hin} f 1 their own. This did not mean hostility, but only an armed tuerr neutrality. It was considered that a person could strike harder o) [ in the duel, and with a more earnest interest, if he had never been 6 g Uiy | in a condition of comradeship with his antagonist; therefore, Lenomydy - comradeship between the corps was not permitted. At intervals Wiy o g the presidents of the five corps have a cold official intercourse Wi b ln } ;3 with each other, but nothing further. For example, when the T Spatse he regular duelling day of one of the corps approaches, its presi- dent calls for volunteers from among the membership to offer 0 gy Wothey ¢ I&mmd thei battle; three or more respond,—but there must not be less than I oy B, By jth ! See Appendix C, m”@lh&r I fng § A TRAMP ABROAD. 19 three ; the president lays their names before the other presidents, with the request that they furnish antagonists for these chal- It lengers from among their corps. This is promptly done. chanced that the present occasion was the battle-day of the . Red Cap Corps. They were the challengers, and certain caps of other colours had volunteered to meet them. The students fight duels in the room which I have described, two days in every aine bermission & Crosseq tho week during seven and a half or eight months in every year. This custom has continued in Germany two hundred and fifty WG, then g 4 lundreq ar 0 ds years. To return to my narrative. A student in a white cap met WETe acquainteq us and introduced us to six or eight friends of his who also wore \ 1t'ne hotel, white caps, and while we stood conversing, two strange-looking ¢ apartment, figures were led in from another room. They were students and twenty ,z\\'ide £ o panoplied for the duel. They were bare-headed ; their eyes There wag were protected by iron goggles which projected an inch or more, 8 of the roon | ¢ f i the leather straps of which bound their ears flat against their [.')' or se\‘emy. heads; their necks were wound around and around with thick wrappings which a sword could not cut through; from chin to 16 playing cards, ankle they were padded thoroughly against injury; their arms ther, and many were bandaged and re-bandaged, layer upon layer, until they 1 | e coming duels, looked like solid black logs. These weird apparitions had been were white caps, handsome youths, clad in fashionable attire fifteen minutes low ones; o, all n the windows af before, but now they did not resemble any beings one ever sees unless in nightmares. They strode along, with their arms pro- bt long, namowe jecting straight out from their bodies; they did not hold them or the hand, and out themselves, but fellow-students walked beside them and gave s 0n a grindstone the needed support. Joft his hand one There was a rush for the vacant end of the room now, and we followed and got good places. The combatants were placed on neither bowed face to face, each with several members of his own corps about | in colour from him to assist; two seconds, well padded, and with swords in only an amed their hands, took near stations; a student belonging to neither 4 strike harder of the opposing corps placed himself in a good position to um- Tad never beed pire the combat ; another student stood by with a watch and a nist: therefore, 1 memorandum-book to keep record of the time and the number d. A intervals and nature of the wounds; a grey-haired surgeon was present with his lint, his bandages, and his instruments. After a cial intercours? mple, when the momgent’s pause the duellists saluted the umpire respectfully, then one after another the several offieials stepped forward, gracefully aches, its pres” hership to oLF removed their caps and saluted him also, and returned to their places. Everything was ready now; students stood crowded nof be less than together in the foreground, and others stood behind them on [ e 20 A TRAMP ABROAD. SRS ¢ 1f W o 0] chairs and tables. Every face was turned towards the centre of ]U i ile ba attraction. yeane fead 10 s ir0 The combatants were watching each other with alert eyes ; atll eaat a perfect stillness, a breathless interest reigned. I felt that I was b obting )y p el 5 going to sce some wary work. But not so. The instant the f by b8 ¥ i Wouns word was given, the two apparitions sprang forward and began e gt dravn 08 to rain blows down upon each other with such lightning rapidity o e el OF il 3 that I could not quite tell whether I saw the swords or only the = Dlfi g b cofic flashes they made in the air ; the rattling din of these blows, as vm(‘n they struck steel or paddings, was something wonderfully stirring, 4700 bt b s o § and they were struck with such terrific force that I could not ! e (P understand why the opposing sword was not beaten down under e, 4 O & the assault. Presently, in the midst of the sword-flashes, I saw J ncking cguel [ a handful of hair skip into the air as if it had lain loose on the U7 victim’s head and a breath of wind had puffed it suddenly My aequ Ancet flo efect 0 away. The seconds cried ¢ Halt !’ and knocked up the combatants’ turally yished 1 swords with their own. The duellists sat down; a student pleasnt o Jearn official stepped forward, examined the wounded head, and Jowas 4 otable s touched the place with a sponge once or twice; the surgeon g, came and turned back the hair from the wound, and revealed a The duel pre il which ad marke crimson gash two or three inches long, and proceeded to bind an oval piece of leather and a bunch of lint over it; the tally- ot {el which b vanshe] keeper stepped up and tallied one for the opposition in his book. Then the duellists took position again; a small stream of i S1ords alwa blood was flowing down the side of the injured man’s head, and ba K Oer {1 over his shoulder, and down his body to the floor, but he did s 0t 803 o not seem to mind this. The word was given, and they plunged tenposed e, at each other as fiercely as before; once more the blows rained, struck elre o ff and rattled, and flashed; every few moments the quick-eyed ften,and g by ¢ seconds would notice that a sword was bent—then they called Sttt est olloed ¢Halt!’ struck up the contending weapons, and an assisting 13t roun student straightened the bent one. sile o B al a d The wonderful turmoil went on—presently a bright spark tbi{d o fhe i I sprang from a blade, and thav blade, broken in several pieces, @t fymy bad b sent one of its fragments flying to the ceiling. A new sword The exercise was tre- (‘flrp; St gy was provided, and the fight proceeded. Qe gy mendous, of course, and in time the fighters began to show Jidy Fly tae g g, great fatigue. They were allowed to rest a moment, every little il while ; they got other rests by wounding each other, for then gy l'ed el m] Ly he they could sit down while the doctor applied the lint and Ker Ieft g il bandages. The law is that the battle must continue fifteen i) minutes if the men can hold out; and as the pauses do not ‘tevlc count, this duel was protracted to twenty or thirty minutes, I A TRAMP ABROAD. 21 s th ¢ Centyo of judged. At last it was decided that the men were too much With alext @ 2 wearied to do battle longer. They were led away drenched with €l thay crimson from head to foot. That was a good fight, but it could Va 10 st g Stay not count, partly because it did not last the lawful fifteen minutes 0rard anq by (of actual fighting), and partly because neither man was dis- hin an abled by his wounds. It was a drawn battle, and corps-law re- Words g rapidig 0r only quires that drawn battles shall be re-fought as soon as the 1 thesg blows adversaries are well of their hurts. \ a3 During the conflict, I had talked a little, now and then, with 'nderquy St irring, 86 1 ool poy a young gentleman of the white cap corps, and he had mentioned that he was to fight next—and had also pointed out his chal- 2D down gy 0nd-fashes T gy lenger, a young gentleman who was leaning against the opposite AN looge o the wall smoking a cigarette, and restfully observing the duel then in progress. uffed it sudden%y My acquaintanceship with a party to the coming contest had the effect of giving me a kind of personal interest in it; I D the combatanty naturally wished he might win, and it was the reverse of 10WD; 3 student pleasant to learn that he probably would not, because, although nded hegd, gn he was a notable swordsman, the challenger was held to be his ce; the slirgeon superior. d, and revealed 5 The duel presently began, and in the same furious way eeded to bind an which had marked the previous one. I stood close by, but could er it; the tally- tion in his hook, not tell which blows told and which did not, they fell and vanished so like flashes of light. They all scemed to tell; the small stream of swords always bent over the opponents’ heads, from the forehead | man's head, and back over the crown, and seemed to touch, all the way; but it floor, but he did was not so—a protecting blade, invisible to me, was always in- and they plmnged terposed between. At the end of ten seconds each man had , the blows rained, ” struck twelve or fifteen blows, and had warded off twelve or r t Al h 8 ( uick-eyed fifteen, and no harm done; then a sword became disabled, and a then they called short rest followed whilst a new one was brought. Early in the nd an assisting next round the white corps student got an ugly wound on the side of his head, and gave his opponent one like it. In the a bright spark third round the latter received another bad wound in the head, several pieces, and the former had his under lip divided. After that, the white A new swor corps student gave many severe wounds, but got none of conse- cercise was fré- quence in return, At the end of five minutes, from the begin- ning of the duel, the surgeon stopped it; the challenging party egan 0 show i, every Litle had suffered such injuries that any addition to them might be other, for then dangerous. These injuries were a fearful spectacle, but are better left undescribed. So, against expectation, my acquaintance | the linf an was the victor, ontinue fifteed quses 00 10 irty minutes, / 22 A TRAMP ABROAD. Joor ¢ t o ol fol § i fiere il ot the! g e 1 Tw js was 10 I CHAPTER VI. fad quarte { qdents gy 0 ot telng 0 m’ Tur third duel was brief and bloody. The surgeon stopped it ot s o when he saw that one of the men had received such bad wounds that he could not fight longer without endangering his life. % 3’0:‘ 1ll:(i$§'- : (uel fl ar Wik The fourth duel was a tremendous encounter; but at the 6 S L Al end of five or six minutes the surgeon interfered once more: h 16 wa another man so severely hurt as to render it unsafe to add to his I 0 i a I harms. I watched this engagement as I had watched the others i —with rapt interest and strong excitement, and with a shrink (0W § and a shudder for every blow that laid open a cheek or a fore- I (3¢ head; and a conscious paling of my face when I occasionally 16 My eyes i arted | saw a wound of a yet more shocking nature inflicted. y Ul (11 were upon the loser of this duel when he got his last and van- Wl quishing wound—it was in his face, and it carried away his— I had but a glance, i [t Ve, but no matter, I must not enter into details. and then turned quickly away, but I would not have been look- 1{«2 § 1 I [ ing at all if Thad known what was coming. No, that is probably E ite not true; one thinks he would not look if he knew what was coming, but the interest and the excitement are so powerful that i; & Al Q! they would doubtless conquer all other feelings; and so, under the fierce exhilaration of the clashing steel, he would yield and il ol look, after all. Sometimes spectators of these duels faint, and it i \(2% Viim 3 does scem a very reasonable thing to do, too. 10t sion which Both parties to this fourth duel were badly hurt; so much so that the surgeon was at work upon them nearly or quite an hour 10 I This g ol —a fact which is suggestive. But this waiting interval was not i ] & wasted in idleness by the assembled students. It was past noon ; bl therefore they ordered their landlord, downstairs, to send up hot { 4l m beefsteaks, chickens, and such things, and these they ate, sitting comfortably at the several tables, whilst they chatted, disputed, ) and laughed. The door to the surgeon’s room stood open, mean- Wiere g g time, but the cutting, sewing, splicing, and bandaging going on €1 Th in there in plain view, did not seem to disturb anyone’s appetite. 4 810 0403 i I went in and saw the surgeon labour awhile, but could not enjoy thg ag by and it; it was much less trying to see the wounds given and received il fl]gy Were ¢ than to see them mended; the stir and turmoil, and the music 0L e of the steel were wanting here—one’s nerves were wrung by this L0g oy d ] { Zene grisly spectacle, whilst the duel’s compensating pleasurable thrill iy (i . was lacking. 00 b by by Finally the doctor finished, and the men who were to fight g g ) that 06 ang A TRAMP ABROAD. 23 the closing battle of the day came forth. A good many dinners were not completed yet, but no matter, they could be eaten cold after the battle; therefore everybody crowded forward to see. This was not a love duel, but a satisfaction > affair. These two Surge(m § {opped it students had quarrelled, and were here to settle it. They did | such by not belong to any of the corps, but they were furnished with Qioung zing his life, weapons and armour, and permitted to fight hcre by the five corps as a courtesy. Hvidently these two young men were un- lfmrf but g thie {ered gng ore s familiar with the duelling ceremonies, though they were not un- familiar with the sword. When they were placed in position, 15208 9 g his Vatched the ofhers they thought it was time to begin—and they did begin, too, and with a most impetuous energy, without waiting for anybody to 0d With g ghyipl give the word. 0 cheek or g fore- This vastly amused the spectators, and even broke down their studied and courtly gravity, and surprised ] I occasiomlly them into laughter. Of course the seconds struck up the swords Hiced, My eyeg and started the duel over again. At the word, the deluge of 8 Iast and yage blows began, but before long the surgeon once more interfered— anay his— for the only reason which ever permits him to interfere and the d but a glince, day’s war was over. It was now two in the afternoon, and I had have been look- been present since balf-past nine in the morning. The field of thatis probably battle was indeed a red one by this time; but some sawdust knew what wag soon righted that. There had been one duel before I arrived. 0 powerful tha In it one of the men received many injuries, while the other one 3 and 50, under escaped without a scratch. would yield and I had seen the heads and faces of ten youths gashed in every Juels faint, and it direction by the keen two-edged blades, and yet had not scen a vietim wince, nor heard a moan, or detected any flecting expres- \ hurt; 0 much $0 sion which confessed the sharp pain the hurts were inflicting, or > an hour This was good fortitude indeed. Such endurance is to be ex- was nob pected in savages and prize-fighters, for they are born and Wa 18 I}Hrf noony educated to it; but to find it in such perfection in these gently . to send up hot bred and kindly nurtured young fellows is matter for surprise. they ate, sitting It was not merely under the excitement of the sword-play that atted, disputed, this fortitude was shown ; it was shown in the surgeon’s room, od open, mean- where an uninspiring quiet reigned, and where there was no audience. aging going 01 The doctor’s manipulations brought out ncither Jone’s appetite grimaces nor moans; and in the fichts it was obgervable that pould 20t €2jo) these lads hacked and slashed with the same tremendous spirit, n and Teceive after they were covered with streaming wounds, which they had shown in the beginning. and the mus%c Wrung by t I The world in general looks upon the college duels as very farcical affairs: true, but considering that the college duel is casurable thl fought by boys, that the swords are real swords, and that the head and face are exposed, it seems to me that it is a farce which ) ere b p Bt 24 A TRAMP ABROAD. Las quite a grave side to it. People laugh at it mainly because they think the student is so covered up with armour that he cannot be hurt. But it is not so; his eyes and ears are protected, but the rest of his face and head are bare. Ie can not only be badly wounded, but his life is in danger, and he would sometimes It is not in- pdfion 028 lose it but for the interference of the surgeon. tended that his life shall be endangered. Fatal accidents are pos- e e 0 fied Poraps 122 T sible, however. For instance, the student’s sword may break, and the end of it fly up behind his antagonist’s ear and cut an meulbtl‘ sip 40 i med'\ artery which could not be reached if the sword remained whole. This has happened sometimes, and death has resulted on the spot. ferlg s, WL @ Formerly the student’s armpits were not protected—and at that yoluntee Pt 0 y dudent of a time the swords were pointed, whereas they are blunt now—so an artery in the armpit was sometimes cut, and death followed. g go—tb('re s ot eard of a0y’ Then, in the days of sharp-pointed swords, a spectator was an 8 IO occasional victim ; the end of a broken sword flew five or ten ther T anain 10 16 ¢ I] feet and buried itself in his neck or his heart, and death ensued N instantly. The student duels in Germany occasion two or three Al d proper us 4l deaths every year now, but this arises only from the carelessness of the wounded men; they eat or drink imprudently, or commit A0aI08H declining: shonger than excessses in the way of over-exertion; inflammation sets in, and gets such a headway that it cannot be arrested. Indeed there is The ten men v when heir b TS blood and pain and danger enough about the college duel to entitle it to a considerable degree of respect. bt cam 6 b © 0 All the customs, all the laws, all the details pertaining to the fhe = student duel are quaint and naive. 100! The grave, precise, and courtly ceremony with which the thing is conducted, invests it nessed the it He o with a sort of antique charm. This dignity and these knightly graces suggest the tourna- sond had gut | ment, not the prize-fight. The laws are as curious as they are ] strict. For instance, the duellist may step forward from the line L If he co, he is placed upon, if he chooses, but never back of it. a4 S0 steps back of it, or even leans back, it is considered that he did Ve prerinp, 2 it to avoid a blow or contrive an advantage, so he is dismissed dhss i from his corps in disgrace. It would seem but natural to step fie g rere] from under a descending sword unconsciously, and against one’s 0 s g g [ will and intent, yet this unconsciousness is not allowed. Again, f . ; sfudelm likesty if, under the sudden anguish of a wound, the receiver of it Wtk 1A makes a grimace, he falls some degrees in the estimation of his 0t Whep gy fellows; his corps are ashamed of him, they call him ¢ hare-foot,” il ly bandan which is the German equivalent for chicken-hearted. i pub} 0 o e St ty 8 woy Wil oy e e g Tized fha A TRAMP ABROAD. 25 ot 1t i) b A ith gy 0 a6 by il P oty 0o nl be Ew Olll(l [ CHAPTER VIL Ongtj ey €on, | 13 106 3 | ace) Iy addition to the corps laws, there are some corps-usages which ) Qents gy have the force of laws. Ford may fy ) Perhaps the president of a corps notices that one of the U8 ear and gy an d Temaingg v ke, membership who is no longer an exempt—that is a freshman —has remained a sophomore some little time without volun- estlted o the ot tected—ang at that teering to fight; some day, the president, instead of calling for volunteers, will appoint this sophomore to measure swords with e Blunt poy_g, a student of another corps; he is free to decline—everybody and deat) followed, says so—there is no compulsion. This is all true—but I have & spectator wag g not heard of any student who did decline. He would naturally I fiew five o f rather retire from the corps than decline; to decline, and still t and death engyeq remain in the corps, would make him unpleasantly conspicuous, 100 £0 or three and properly so, since he knew, when he joined, that his main om the carelessnesy business, as a member, would be to fight. No, there is no law dently, or commit against declining—except the law of custom, which is confessedly mation sefs in, qnd gtronger than written law, everywhere. Indeed there is The ten men whose duels I had witnessed did not go away e college duel to when their hurts were dressed, as I had supposed they would, but came back, one after another, as soon as they were free of 3 pertaining to the the surgeon, and mingled with the assemblage in the duelling room., rave, precise, and The white cap student who won the second fight wit- nducted, invess it nessed the remaining three, and talked with us during the inter- missions. He could not talk very well, because his opponent’s st the tournse sword had cut his under lip in two, and then the surgeon had sewed it together and overlaid it with a profusion of white as they are d from the Jine plaister patches; neither could he eat easily, still he contrived to accomplish a slow and troublesome luncheon while the last duel £t Ifhe 1 {hat he did was preparing. The man who was the worst hurt of all played chess while waiting to see this engagement. A good part of his o he is dismissed ¢ patural to step face was covered with patches and bandages, and all the rest of his head was covered and concealed by them. It is said that ind against on,e’3 the student likes to appear on the street and in other public places llowed. Agaih in this kind of array, and that this predilection often keeps him e receiver of 1 out when exposure to rain or sun is a positive danger for him, ostimation of | 113 Newly bandaged students are a very common spectacle in the Tim ¢hare-{00f It is also said that the student public gardens of Heidelberg. ted, is glad to get wounds in the face, because the scars they leave will show so well there; and it is also said that these face wounds are so prized that youths have even been known to pull them 26 A TRAMP ABROAD. p 0 ) hflI( apart from time to time and put red wine in them, to make them o Jon el el o ( heal badly and leave as ugly a scar as possible. It does not ol {l %8 (0 look reasonable, but it is roundly asserted and maintained, never- g 00 theless. I am sure of one thing—scars are plenty enough in fhe il s porto¥ Germany among the young men ; and very grim ones they are, ottt a gl too. They eriss-cross the face in angry red welts, and are f I 1 (e permanent and ineffaceable. Some of these scars are of a very [ v I strange and dreadful aspect ; and the effect is striking when several i il 1 duelsa 4 f e i i) such accent the milder ones, which form a city map on a man’s face; they su fale} aoest the ‘burned district > then. o b et olders We had often noticed that many of the students wore a leet b 0F coursey W coloured silk band or riband diagonally across their breasts. It transpired that this signifies that the wearer has fought three pleita yo?m {0 fl (ine oL@ duels in which a decision was reached—duels in which he either whipped or was whipped—for drawn battles do not count.! P fher W After a student has received his riband, he is ‘free;’ he can il ih fhey have yhose st cease from fighting, without reproach—except some one insult him; his president cannot appoint him to fight ; he can voluntcer Pl 0 i i if he wants to, or remain quiescent if he prefers to doso. Statistics troug; itsp i 065 ] show that he does not prefer to remain quiescent. They show that the duel has a singular fascination about it somewhere, for i these free men, so far from resting upon the privilege of the badge, {ilopes an exper are always volunteering. A corps student told me it was on record wivey, bis e viedto G that Prince Bismarck fought thirty-two of these duels in a single summer term when he was in college. viorous,he il | So he fought twenty-nine after his badge had given him the right to retire from the field. m‘l send thelr 8 010 00¢ O l P The statistics may be found to possess interest in several particulars, Two days in every week are devoted to duelling. ) 1l {imfpfll The rule is rigid that there must be three duels on each of these f0 Ya days; there are generally more, but there cannot be fewer. n ail ¢ o]l Spal " There were six the day I was present; sometimes there are seven Ol or eight. el 10 lad 1 It is insisted that eight duels a week—four for each of 10 it ] the two days—is too low an average to draw a calculation from, fn \ of eating gy but I will reckon from that basis, preferrin g an under-statement ik o the ¢ il to an over-statement of the case. This requires about 480 or Omn o b 500 duellists in a year—for in summer the college term is about W cham ¢ a8, a0 ' FrRoM MY DIARY.—Dined in an hotel a few miles up the Neckar, o], in a room whose walls were hung all over with fr amed portrait-groups ?he 1l yhigh of the Five Corps; some were recent, but many an tedated photography, o e gy and were pictured in lithography— the dates ranged back to forty or I8 fifty years ago. Nearly every individual wore the riband across his 0108 st g1 breast. In one portrait-group, representing (as each of these pictures e b did) an entire Corps, I took pains to count the ribands: there were Whetg g fohg twenty-seven members, Hheryis, and twenty-one of them wore that significant Ay, ol ¢ e badge. betlen, s h\y A TRAMP ABROAD. 27 bl kg then three and a half months, and in winter it is four months and 1§ Ualhtgingg sometimes longer. Of the 750 students in the university at the e ) Levey, time I am writing of, only eighty belonged to the five corps, and £y eng lgh i} 0ne it is only these corps that do the duelling; occasionally other they g students borrow the arms and battle-ground of the five corps in Welty ) and order to settle a quarrel, but this does not happen every duelling cary ag of an day.! Consequently eighty youths furnish the material for some 2 Wh W ey ¥l Sever| 250 duels a year. This average gives six fights a year to each Jmap op g Iy of the eighty. This large work could not be accomplished if the badge-holders stood upon their privilege and ceased to S‘fuldents W fore g volunteer. their breggt, It Of course, where there is so much fighting, the students 028 fougl firee make it a point to keep themselves in constant practice with the 1 "'LECM 16 eilher foil. One often sees them, at the tables in the Castle grounds, Y Qo ot count,} using their whips or canes to illustrate some new sword trick 5 ‘foe; by oy which they have heard about; and between the duels, on the - S0me one. gyt day whose history I have been writing, the swords were not e ¢an volunteer always idle; every now and then we heard a succession of the 050, Statistics keen hissing sounds which the sword makes when it is being put through its paces in the air, and this informed us that a student 1t They show somewhere, for was practising. Necessarily this unceasing attention to the art developes an expert occasionally. He becomes famous in his own g8 of the badge, it was on record university, his renown spreads to other universities. He is in- vited to Gottingen, to fight with a Gottingen expert; if he is fuels in a single alt twenty-ning victorious, he will be invited to other colleges, or those colleges from the field. will send their experts to him. Americans and Englishmen often erest I several join one or another of the five corps. A year or two ago, the oted to due 1 1 principal Heidelberg expert was a big Kentuckian; he was in- on each of these vited to the various universities, and left a wake of victory nnot be fewer. behind him all about Germany; but at last a little student in There was formerly a studentin Iei- there are seven Strasburg defeated him. delberg who had picked up somewhere and mastered a peculiar four for each of leulation from, trick of cutting up under instead of cleaving down from above. While the trick lasted he won in sixteen successive duels in his nder-statement y about 480 or own university ; but by that time observers had discovered what his charm was, and how to break it, therefore his championship term 13 about ceased. ap the Neckat, The rule which forbids social intercourse between members ortrait-groups of different corps is strict. In the duelling house, in the parks, 0 photography) on the street, and anywhere and everywhere that students go, a0k to forty of pand across 13 ! They have to borrow the arms because they could not get them else- ¢ these pictures where or otherwise. As I understand it, the public authorities, all over j‘/ ds: there Were Germany, allow the #iVe corps to keep swords, but do not allow them to . tht signifca” wse them. This law is rigid ; it is only the execution of it that is lax, 28 A TRAMP ABROAD. caps of a colour group themselves together. If all the tables in a public garden were crowded but one, and that one had two red-cap students at it and ten vacant places, the yellow caps, the blue caps, the white caps, and the green caps, seeking seats, would go by that table and not seem to see it, nor seem to be aware that there was such a table in the grounds. The student by whose courtesy we had been enabled to visit the duelling o MK He introduced us fru 8 § g place wore the white cap—Prussian Corps. 1o 1t I to many white caps, but to none of another colour. The corps Since 10 etiquette extended even to us, who were strangers, and required fafsare 16 iy U us to group with the white corps only, and speak only with the et o white corps, while we were their guests, and keep aloof from 14l fhe caps of the other colours. Once I wished to examine some of in Dan the swords, but an American student said, ¢ It would not be quite for fifee polite; these now in the windows all have red hilts or blue; bof f they will bring in some with white hilts presently, and those you 3 cannot can handle freely.’ When a sword was broken in the first duel, I wanted a piece of it; but its hilt was the wrong colour, so it svougbt 0 10 I was considered best and politest to await a properer season. It TeCIt was brought to me after the room was cleared. The length of ougae these swords is about three feet, and they are quite heavy. One’s (L disposition to cheer, during the course of the duels or at their i close, was naturally strong, but corps etiquette forbade any de- Bt {18 time monstrations of this sort. However brilliant a contest or a {he e ey outh victory might be, no sign or sound betrayed that anyone was t'f:eFrer.ciA. moved. A dignified gravity and repression were maintained at all times. it betanse long When the duclling was finished and we were ready to go, \'faled fo meth s the gentlemen of the Prussian Corps to whom we had been \kns as are introduced took off their caps in the courteous German way, and o would ] I G i ot wai also shook hands; their brethren of the same order took off their caps and bowed, but without shaking hands; the gentlemen sy of the other corps treated us just as they would have treated @lm, g white caps—they fell apart, apparently unconsciously, and left e us an unobstructed pathway, but did not seem to see us or know il we were there. If we had gone thither the following week as aq ol guests of another corps, the white caps, without meaning any 19 4 o offence, would have observed the etiquette of their order, and d evert ignored our presence.! h;ir e iy U6 irey by ! How strangely are comedy and tragedy blended in this life! I b b had not been home a full half-hour after witnessing those playful sham- duels, when circumstances made it necessary for me to get ready im- ot mediately to assist personally at a real one—a duel with no effeminate o (tinth It limitations in the matter of results, but a battle to the death. An Al I“‘ W gy A TRAMP ABROAD. 29 £ ol g, bl n thflt 0np € Yelloy lad g Capg ) {he ) o ed\lnrr q €ats, Dor g CIIAPTER VIIL m 0 ) 6 sty Slden TIIE GREAT FRENCH DUEL. 191 t dugllpy troduge fucn as the modern French duel is ridiculed by certain smart L0ur, T]e Cormg people, it is in reality one of the most .dangerous institutions of J€rs, ang Tequie] our day. Since it is always fought in the open air, the comba- 4% only yigh M. Paul de Cassagnac, the the tants are nearly sure to catch cold. SEED aloof from most inveterate of the French duellists, has suffered so often in EXaLling sopg of ould this way that he is at last a confirmed invalid; and the best 10t be quit physician in Paris has expressed the opinion that if he goes on duelling for fifteen or twenty years more—unless he forms the hilts gp blue; at 1 108¢ you habit of fighting in a comfortable room where damps and i the firt gl draughts cannot intrude—he will eventually endanger his life. tong colour, o i This ought to moderate the talk of those people who are so erer season, [t stubborn in maintaining that the French duel is the most health- The Jength of giving of recreations because of the open-air exercise it affords. to heavy, Onels And it ought also to moderate that foolish talk about French duels or at their duellists and socialist-hated monarchs being the only people who are immortal. forbade any de- & contest or a But it is time to get at my subject. As soon as I heard of hat anyone was the late fiery outbreak between M. Gambetta and M. Fourtou in 16 maintained af the French Assembly, I knew that trouble must follow. I knew it because a long personal friendship with M. Gambetta had re- ere ready to go, vealed to me the desperate and implacable nature of the man. Vast as are his physical proportions, I knew that the thirst for n we had been erman way, and revenge would penetrate to the remotest frontiers of his person. T did not wait for him to call on me, but went at once to him. order took off . the gentlemen As T expected, I found the brave fellow steeped in a profound French calm. I say French calm, because French calmness and d have treated English calmness have points of difference. e was moving ousy, and loft swittly back and forth among the débris of his furniture, now see s or know and then staving chance fragments of it across the room with his Jowing week a3 foot; grinding a constant grist of curses through his set teeth ; t meaning 41y and halting every little while to deposit another handful of his \eir order, 42 hair on the pile which he had been building of it on the table. He threw his arms around my neck, bent me over his stomach to his breast, kissed me on both cheeks, hugged me four or five in this Life! 1 ol S5 account of in the next chapter will show the reader that duels between to geb ready 10 boys for fun and duels between men in earnest are very different o efeminate afiairs.. the death. A TRAMP ABROAD. or 10 times, and then placed me in his own arm-chair. As soon as 1 (il f ‘B‘OOd‘ 60 ¢ had got well again, we began business at once. o]t 800 tfl I said I supposed he would wish me to act as his second, and Jab v he said, ¢ Of course.’ I said I must be allowed to act under a o, ¥ { ] had 2 French name, so that I might be shielded from obloquy in my Oewfl country, in case of fatal results. He winced here, probably at Jus el the suggestion that duelling was not regarded with respect in bttt America. This ac- 1flfltfid e inthe However, he agreed to my requirement. counts for the fact that in all the newspaper reports M. Gam- PREI Jkea the betta’s second was apparently a Frenchman. First, we drew up my principal’s will. I insisted upon this, | # occurte y Way and stuck to my point. I said I had never heard of a man in his E Al e i £ right mind going out to fight a duel without first making his will. He gaid he had never heard of a man in his right mind doing Babit was! P 1l f anything of the kind. When he had finished the will, he wished to proceed to a choice of his ‘last words. He wanted to know it Y TRVOL how the following words, as a dying exclamation, struck me :— mfii’ SATCASHICAL ‘I die for my God, for my country, for freedom of speech, T dlvaps e for progress, and the universal brotherhood of man !’ as 10 percep I objected that this would require too lingering a death ; it vhen {h was a good speech for a consumptive, but not suited to the exi- fol I gencies of the field of honour. We wrangled over a good many ith the 1dea 0 ante-mortem outbursts, but I finally got him to cut his obituary down to this, which he copied into his memorandum book, pur- eelne on act posing to get it by heart :— [ i T { ‘I DIE THAT FRANCE MAY LIVE. Vi1 would be oo I said that this remark seemed to lack relevancy; but he said cven bad o relevancy was a matter of no consequence in last words—what His con mk you wanted was thrill. 0 I Wi The next thing in order was the choice of weapons. My 0k | 0 principal said he was not feeling well, and would leave that e vJ.'efl il and the other details of the proposed mecting to me. There- i fore I wrote the following note and carried it to M. Fourtou’s friend :— 4 ¢ Sir,—M. Gambetta accepts M. Fourtou’s challenge, and f 0] 0 pig authorises me to propose Plessis-Piquet as the place of meeting; Jynl;ume to-morrow morning at daybreak as the time; and axes as the 1 and Vel emgtep, | weapons. I am, sir, with great respect, Mark TwaIN.’ M. Fourtow’s friend read this note, and shuddered. Then 0 e g I Josty Q 43 he turned to me, and said, with a suggestion of severity in his Stamy ( tone— Of they, Lagke Verg o ‘ Have you considered, sir, what would be the inevitable re- b b lly th g sult of such a meeting as this?’ i Shggeq A A TRAMP ABROAD. 81 i, A Ong | ¢Well, for instance, what would it be?’ - 8§ hig S0, gy ¢ Bloodshed !’ ¢ That’s about- the size of it,” I said. ¢ Now, if it is a fair \ ™ to act “Hder ) Oy iy question, what was your side proposing to shed ?’ I had him there. He saw he had made a blunder, so he 1%, by Wit ey p‘CCE I hastened to explain it away. He said he had spoken jestingly. ement, T his g, Then he added that he and his principal would enjoy axes, and indeed prefer them, but such weapons were barred by the French TEports 1, G, code, and so I must change my proposal. ¢ I walked the floor, turning the thing over in my mind, and 1 ] o upon this { Uofa map fy his finally it occurred to me that Gatling guns at fifteen paces would b1 maki be a likely way to get a verdict on the field of honour. So I HaXing his i)l framed this idea into a proposition. i & il nind doing But it was not accepted. The code was in the way again. I, b wighe I proposed rifles; then double-barrelled shot-guns; then Colt’s ¢ Wanted t) kngy + & . = 10k me:— navy revolvers. These being all rejected, I reflected a while, and sarcastically suzgested brick-bats at three-quarters of a mile. ojrx} of speech, I always hate to fool away a humorous thing on a person who has no perception of humour; and it filled me with bitterness 4 death it when this man went soberly away to submit the last proposition l I f ed to the exi- to his principal. e & good many He came back presently and said his principal was charmed 0t his obituary with the idea of brick-bats at three-quarters of a mile, but must dumn book, pur- decline on account of the danger to disinterested parties passing between. Then I said— ) ‘Well, I am at the end of my string now. Perhaps you would be good enough to suggest a weapon ? Perhaps you have ey but hesaid even had one in your mind all the time ?’ Jast words—what His countenance brightened, and he said with alacrity— ¢ Oh, without doubt, monsieur !’ f weapons, My So he fell to hunting in his pockets—pocket after pocket, and ould leave that he had plenty of them—muttering all the while, ¢ Now, what to me, There- could I have done with them ?’ o )L, Fourtou's At last he was successful. He fished out of his vest pocket a couple of little things which I carried to the light and ascer- tained to be pistois. They were single-barrelled and silver- challenge, and vce of meeting; mounted, and very dainty and pretty. I was not able to speak nd axes as the for emotion. I silently hung one of them on my watch-chain, and returned the other. My companion in crime now unrolled ok Twany, ddered. Then a postage-stamp containing several cartridges, and gave me one of them. I asked if he meant to signify by this that our men severity in 13 were to be allowed but one shot apiece. He replied that the French code permitted no more. I then begged him to go on 3 inevitable 18 and suggest a distance, for my mind was growing weak and con- 32 A TRAMP ABROAD. fused under the strain which had been put upon it. He named [l po 8% | I raid— sixty-five yards. I nearly lost my patience. i) il & ¢ Sixty-five yards, with these instruments? Squirt-guns he hour—¥ would be deadlier at fifty. Consider, my friend, you and I are ]y f0-100 banded together to destroy life, not make it eternal.’ i ‘ee:.ueu! e But with all my persuasions, all my arguments, I was only il sty able to get him to reduce the distance to thirty-five yards; and g even this concession he made with reluctance, and said with a i sigh— | ) fime ¢TI wash my hands of this slaughter ; on your head be it.’ It There was nothing for me but to go home to my old lion- 1 should ¢ heart and tell my humiliating story. When I entered, M. Gam- e a betta was laying his last lock of hair upon the altar. e sprang towards me, exclaiming— [t dow‘ns! 3 i “You have made the fatal arrangements—I see it in your I h:wg { | ho! eye!l’ ‘T have. 2 t'ni h?m fo half Il i His face paled a trifle, and he leaned upon the table for sup- Ay POrT. He breathed thick and heavily for a moment or two, so TICE tumultuous were his feelings ; then he hoarsely whispered— 26 0f ¢ The weapon, the weapon ! Quick ! what is the weapon ?’ ‘Th ‘This!’ and I displayed that silver-mounted thing. He fome f0 3 e cast but one glance at it, then swooned ponderously to the floor. {he bou When he came to, he said mournfully— el ¢ The unnatural calm to which I have subjected myself has oon told upon my nerves. But away with weakness! I will confront AL aareeanie my fate like a man and a Frenchman.’ proceed tothe He rose to his feet, and assumed an attitude which for sub- Tt limity has never been approached by man, and has seldom been ment is en[!irefi‘ surpassed by statues. Then he said, in his deep bass tones— ‘Behold, I am calm, I am ready, reveal to me the distance.’ them I WLLL Dg engy ¢ Thirty-five yards.” . . Ty I could not lift him up, of course; but I rolled him over, and e £l poured water down his back. IIe presently came to, and said— ] ¢ Thirty-five yards—without a rest? But why ask? Since J 0l ] i 1] g o murder was that man’s intention, why should he palter with small details ? But mark you one thing in my fall the world shall Ion, Ty Jou ep ”elahq see how the chivalry of France meets death.’ 64 After a long silence he a sk SK ed— ) 1§ gl ¢ Was nothing said about that man’s family standing up with b aigy I him, as an offset to my bulk? But no matter ; I would not 103 [1‘)‘ fo 07 Cog ()f “11" stoop to make such a suggestion; if he is not noble enough to haw suggest it himself, he is welcome to this advantage, which no "o h ugly honourable man would take.’ W Crugdy all Sl Ien d] le] A TRAMP ABROAD. 33 [ wig W IIe now sank into a sort of stupor ot reflection, which lasted 1 Uizt 5 1l some minutes; after which he broke silence with— 1 JOU ang Ly Tha) ]: ¢ The hour—what is the hour fixed for the collision ?? ¢ Dawn, to-morrow.’ Mens, [ Wag o 0 He seemed greatly surprised, and immediately said— J-five Jads; qnq at such an hour.’ ‘Insanity ! I never heard of such a thing. Nobody is abroad A sid iy ¢That is the reason I named it. Do you mean to say you It bead py want an audience ? ’ 10 1y ol Jigpe ‘It is no time to bandy words. I am astonished that M. Ltered, M, Gap. ltar, [ Fourtou should ever haveagreed to so strange an innovation. e Sprang Go at once and require a later hour.’ I ran downstairs, threw open the front door, and almost | 8ee 1t n your plunged into the arms of M. Fourtou’s second. He said— ‘I have the honour to say that my principal strenuously ob- jects to the hour chosen » and begs you will consent to change it ho table for Sl to half-past nine.’ IENs or o, o ‘Any courtesy, sir, which it is in our power to extend is at Whispered— he service of your excellent principal. We agree to the pro- the weapon posed change of time.’ ted thing, He ‘I beg you to accept the thanks of my client’ Then he Sl sy to the floor, turned to a person behind him, and said, ‘You hear, M. Noir, the hour is altered to half-past nine. Whereupon M. Noir bowed,.expressed his thanks, and went away. My accomplice cted myself has continued— | Twill confront ‘If agreeable to you, your chief surgeons and ours shall which for sub- proceed to the field in the same carriage, as is customary.’ has seldom been ‘It is entirely agreeable to me, and I am obliged to you for mentioning the surgeons, for I am afraid I should not have ) bass tones— thought of them. How man o the distance. y shall T want? I suppose two or three will be enough.’ ‘ Two is the customary number for each party. I refer to him over, and “chief” surgeons; but considering the ex »to, and said— \ted positions occupied by our cl lents, it will be well and decorous that each of us appoins v ask? Sinee several consulting surgeons, from among the higl 1est in the pro- aJter with small fossion. These will come in their own private carriages. Have the world shal you engaged a hearse ?’ ‘ Bless my stupidity, I never thought of it! T will attend to it right away. I must seem very ignorant to you; but you nding up Wi must try to overlook that, because I have never had any experi- + 1 woul ok ence of such a swell duel as this before. I have had a good deal to do with duels on the P oble enough © acific coast, but I sce now that they taghy whih 2 were crude affairs. A hearse—sho ! we used to leave the elected D A TRAMP ABROAD. 34 J e 108 bt il lying around loose; and let anybody cord them up and cart them piath 7 off that wanted to. Have you anything further to suggest 2 e ol an the head undertakers shall ride together, il v ¢ Nothing, except that flis as is usual. The subordinat es and mutes will go on foot, as is s e also usual. I will see you at eight o’clock in the m orning, and I have the The load d we will then arrange the order of the procession. yitnessé honour to bid you a good day.’ said, ¢ Very well; at what hour il I returned to my client, who eatl . Ve is the engagement to begin?’ At th his ¢ ¢ Half-past nine.’ = mseh‘@og ¢ Very good indeed. Have you sent the fact to the ncws- 1 (18 apers?’ Sl o and intimate friendship you can for ¢ Sir! If after our lon te) a moment deem me capable of so base a treachery—— fllh"fhe Eo‘[m 1 q What words are these, my dear friend? Have I g DenI ¢ Tut, tut ! ArOWIn wounded you? Ah, forgive me; I am overloading you with d labour. Therefore go on wit h the other details, and drop this Ot The b (€ ral one from your list. loody-minded Fourtou will be sure Ol to attend to it. Or I myself—yes, to make certain, I will drep alistic friend, M. Noir.’ ] now et a note to my journ fiat be Dad ¢ Oh, come to think, you may save yourself the trouble; that other second has informed M. Noir.’ earten him, Seem, ‘H’m! I might have known it. It is just like that Fourtou, who always w ants to make a display.’ mumber of wlidity At half-past nine in the morning the procession approached first came our the field of Plessis-Piquet in the following order : fs one.yed 2 myself; then a fo me that carriage—nobody in it but M. Gambetta and chances ) carriage containing M. Fourt ou and his second ; then a carriage ho did not believe in God, and containing two poet-orators w from their breast- 0t bvs‘down Th these had MS. funeral orations projecting pockets; then a carriage containing the head surge ons and their ately Sirete. It . 1t gy cases of 1 nstruments; then eight private carriages containing con- sulting surgeons; then a hack containing a coroner; then the [hidit he head undertakers; fu of s two hearses; then a carriage containing t 1l then a train of assistants and mutes on foot; and after these 10y Iy co came plodding through the fog a long procession of ¢ amp fol- ] i out, and lowers, p olice, and citizens generally. It wasa noble turn- Lbeartn would have made a fine display if we had had thinner weather. I spoke several times to my My i There was no conversation. he always Ui deg principal, but I judge he was not aware of it, for , e hip referred to his note-book and muttered absently, ‘I die that Dol France may live’ g, ) ad gy Arrived on the field, my fellov v-second and I paced off the This 7y iy fl thirty-five yards, and then drew lots for choice of position. 3 Jambmav‘ A TRAMP ABROAD. 85 D ang gy t they 0 Slggest 1 latter was but an ornamental ceremony, for all choices were alike all ride tgether in such weather. These preliminaries being ended, I went to my 0 principal and asked him if he was ready. He spread himself out ‘tfl 00 foot ) 88 iy Ig Lotting 41 to his full width, and said in a stern voice, ‘Ready! Let the 0 batteries be charged.’ L | laye flle The loading was done in the presence of duly constituted I ot whyy louy witnesses. We considered it best to perform this delicate service with the assistance of a lantern, on account of the state of the weather. We now placed our men. 4o the neys. At this point the police noticed that the public had massed themselves together on the right and left of the field; they there- fore begged a delay, while they should put these poor people in = hip )'c;u can for a place of safety. The request was granted. The police having ordered the two multitudes to take posi- end) Have ] tions behind the duellists, we were once more ready. The weather ading you vith growing still more opaque, it was agreed between myself and the 5, and drop fhis other second that before giving the fatal signal we should each ou will be sure deliver a loud whoop to enable the combatants to ascertain each ain, I'will drop other’s whereabouts. I now returned to my principal, and was distressed to observe ¢ trouble; that that he had lost a good deal of his spirit. I tried my best to hearten him. I said, ‘Indeed, Sir, things are not as bad as they e that Fourtou, seem. Considering the character of the weapons, the limited number of shots allowed, the generous distance, the impenetrable jon approached solidity of the fog, and the added fact that one of the combatants st came our is one-eyed and the other cross-eyed and near-sighted, it seems I 1 then 4 to me that this conflict need not necessarily be fatal. There are | t‘@n a catiage chances that both of you may survive. Therefore cheer up; do e in God, and not be down-hearted.’ n thelr breast This speech had so good an effect that my principal immedi- oeons and thel ately stretched forth his hand and said, ‘I am myself again ; give Ecntaining con- me the weapon.’ I laid it, all lonely and forlorn, in the centre of the vast soli- ner; then the 1 undertakers; tude of his palm. e gazed at it and shuddered. And still nd after tllfse mournfully contemplating it, he murmured, in a broken voice— ¢Alas! it is not death I dread, but mutilation.’ 1 Of camp 10l o tumn-out; & - I heartened him once more, and with such success that he presently said, ¢Let the tragedy begin. Stand at my back; do ner Weataer: | times f0 2 not desert me in this solemn hour, my friend.’ for he alvey® I gave him my promise. I now assisted him to point his pistol towards the spot where I judged his adversary to be stand- ; (] die hat ing, and cautioned him to listen well and further guide himself by my fellow-second’s whoop. Then I propped myself against aced of e Thi ¢+ M. Gambetta’s back, and raised a rousing ¢ Whoop-ee !’ D2 Tbis Posifi()l]- A TRAMP ABROAD. 1h are 10 was answered from out the far distances of the fog, md I immao- Al ! 7 diately shouted— ] 0] ik ¢ One,—two,—three,—fire !’ Frnt el wo little sounds like spit/ spit! broke upon my ear, and e o 0008 561l in the same instant I was crushed to the earth under a mountain of flesh. Bruised as I was, I was still able to catch a faint accent from above, to this effect— ‘I die for. . .for. . .perdition take it, what ¢s it I die for? . « .oh, yes,—FrancE! I die that France may live!’ The surgeons swarmed around with their probes in their (5 dn,', e [ hands, and applied their microscopes to the whole area of NI (fl‘ Kin Gambetta’s person, with the happy result of finding nothing in [ills It the nature of a wound. Then a scene ensued which was in every e way gratifying and inspiriting. (jerman 0% The two gladmtors feil upon each other’s necks, with floods fillowed aft of proud and happy tears; that other second embraced me; the The bel surgeons, the orators, the undertakers, the police, everybody em- JUSL or braced, everybody congratulated, everybody cried, and the whole as atmosplere was filled with praise and with joy unspeakable. curtain wa It seemed to me then that I would rather be a hero ot a e promp French duel than a crowned and sceptred monarch. vards all When the commotion had somewhat subsided, the body of remed. A surgeons held a consultation, and after a good deal of debate Shakespenria decided that with proper care and nursing there was reason to fhat we shor believe that I should survive my injuries My internal hurts oy were f were deemed the most serious, since it was apparent that a broken that rib had penetrated my left lung, and that many of my organs had been pressed out so far to one side or the other of where Germany, § Anothe they belonged, that it was doubtful if they would ever learn to perrorm their functions in such remote and unqccus*omed ‘Omfz'w 15 localities. They then set my arm in two places, pulled my right ing and gl I was n b bl hip into its socket again, and re-elevated my nose. object of great interest, and even admiration ; and many sincere stoed up iy and warm-hearted persons had themselves introduced to me, and L]y g said they were proud to know the only man who had been hurt i I for in a French duel in forty years Sy by I was placed in an ambulance at the very head of the pro- sy ot uf cession ; and thus with gratifying éelat I was marched into Paris, QLeI]ce filld [y the most conspicuous figure in that great spectacle, and deposited ‘””Fflflmem at the hospital 1§ Compe The Cross of the Tegion of Honcur has been conferred upon la Icoulah st me. However, few escape that distinction. e Con= gy gy Such is the true version of the most memorable pri B flict of the age. e gng A TRAMP ABROAD. ' 37 B | Iy I have no complaints to make against any one. I acted for myself, and I can stand the consequences. Without boasting, I think I may say I am not afraid to stand before a modern Ry gy 1l French duellist, but as long as I keep in my right mind I will lerg Moyt ain never consent to stand behind one again, 03 faing acey is (] !ig L ) CHAPTER IX. Yobes in gy e ara of ) OxE day we took the train and went down to Mannheim to sce g Nothing i It was a mistake. ¢ King Lear’ played in German. We sat in 9 VS i every our seats three whole hours, and never understood anything but the thunder and lightning ; and even that was reversed to suit , With floods German ideas, for the thunder came first an the lightning raced me; the followed after. everyhody en- The behaviour of the audience was perfect. There were no. ind &“1e Whole 1 rustlings, or whisperings, or other little disturbances; each act | Ie, was listened to in silence, and the applauding was done after the_f 8 hero of g curtain was down. The doors opened at half-past four, the play began promptly at half-past five, and within two minutes after- , the body of wards all who were coming were in their seats, and quiet al of debate reigned. A German gentleman in the train had said that a Was I 01 {0 Shakespearian play was an appreciated treat in Germany, and nternal hurts that we should find the house filled. It was true; all the six™ hat At Al 2 broken tiers were filled, and remained so to the end—which suggested ! \ A3 3 that it is not only balcony people who like Shakespeare in of my oz , er of whe 1% Germany, but those of the pit and the gallery too. o [ Another time, we went to Mannheim and attended a shivaree ld ever lean —otherwise an opera the one called ¢ Lohengrin.’ The bang- maccustomed bt ing and slamming and booming and crashing were something lled wy beyond belief. o, 1 was an The racking and pitiless pain of it remains stored up in my memory alongside the memory of the time that many sincere to me, and 1 had my teeth fixed. There-were circumstances which made it d been huzt necessary for me to stay through the four hours to the end, and I stayed; but the recollection of that long, dragging, relentless of season of suffering is indestructible. To have to endure it in silence, and sitting still, made it all the harder. I was in a railed A into P compartment with eight or ten strangers, of the two sexes, and nd depusite‘ this compelled repression; yet at times the pain was so exquisite that I could hardly keep the tears back. At those times, as the~ oforred UpoY howlings and wailings and shriekings of the singers, and the S @ ragings and roarings and explosions of the vast orchestra, ros priv 4t 001 higher and higher, and wilder and wilder, and fiercer an fel) [ oo O 88 A TRAMP ABROAD. el ] fiercer, I could have cried if I had been alone. Those strangers et 1 si] would not have been surprised to see a man do such a thing who acrimoniUUS ; was being gradually skinned, but they would have marvelled at it here, and made remarks about it no doubt, whereas there was orge0t® P ile {hird a0k nothing in the present case which was an advantage over being [0 AL skinned. There was a wait of half an hour at the end of the first act, and I could have gone out and rested during that time, oul WS et but I could not trust myself to do it, for I felt that I should desert and stay out. There was another wait of half an hour i é’one,bez i deep 28 towards nine o’clock, but I had gone through so much by that time that I had no spirit left, and so had no desire but to be let gy B alone. pated 07 et 1 I do not wish to suggest that the rest of the people there were ol like me, for indeed they were not. Whether it was that they naturally liked that noise, or whether it was that they had learned T have e Je 0 10 to like it by getting used to it, I did not at that time know; but they did like it,—this was plain enough. While it was going moderate restlt £ on they sat and looked as rapt and grateful as cats do when one strokes their backs; and whenever the curtain fell they rose to too by-an their feet, in one solid mighty multitude, and the air was snowed omn gpes {hgother o thick with waving handkerchiefs, and hurricanes of applause swept the place. This was not comprehensible to me. Of course in order to there were many people there who were not under compulsion ally hun to stay ; yet the tiers were as full at the close as they had been peighbous at the beginning. This showed that the people liked it. So’z The finenal In the matter of costumes A gt It was a curious sort of a play. Feventeen § and scenery it was fine and showy enough; but there was not much action. That is to say, there was not much really done, opern, T it was only talked about; and always violently. It waswhat one the, tho might call a narrative play. Everybody had a narrative and a distant st grievance, and none were reasonable about it, but all in an afer thy. There was little of that sort offensive and ungovernable state. tey crop of customary thing where the tenor and the soprano stand down confidenegs by the footlights, warbling, with blended voices, and keep hold- fhe elder I ing out their arms towards each other and drawing them back At o and spreading both hands over first one breast and then the ad bo g other with a shake and a pressure—no, it was every rioter for tridmtly himself and no blending. Each sang his indictive narrative in gl e turn, accompanied by the whole orchestra of sixty instruments ; WS 1t and when this had continued for some time, and one was hoping dlety e that they might come to an understanding and modify the noise, iy, g a great chorus composed entirely of maniacs would suddenly £ 1o break forth, and then during two minutes, and sometimes three, ih fhg 1 lived over again all that I had suffered the time the orphan asylum burned down. taady e}é 89 A TRAMP ABROAD. Th()fle § Bangey th gy We only had one brief little season of heaven and heaven’s Ing “yh gweet ecstasy and peace during all this long and diligent and ® Daryglyg o This was while a 168 fhepg Wa acrimonious reproduction of the other place. gorgeous procession of people marched around and around, in ® v e the third act, and sang the Wedding Chorus. To my untutored the end op ; almost divine music. Nny tha b ear that was music While my seared e soul was steeped in the healing balm of those gracious sounds, laf | hy ld shoy it seemed to me that I could almost re-suffer the torments which Al an hopy had gone before, in order to be so healed again. There is where much by that the deep ingenuity of the operatic idea is betrayed. It deals so © 00t fo be e largely in pain that its scattered delights are prodigiously aug- mented by the contrasts. A pretty air in an opera is prettier 0ple therg ey there than it could be anywhere else, I suppose, just as an honest WS that they man in politics shines more than he would elsewhere. 167 had leame] I have since found out that there is nothing the Germans They like it, not in a mild and e know; by like so much as an opera. e 1t wag going moderate way, but with their whole hearts. This is a legitimate 5 0o when gng result of habit and education. Our nation will like the opera, I they ros to too, by-and-by, no doubt. One in fifty of those who attend iras snowed our operas likes it already, perhaps, but I think a good many of the other forty-nine go in order to learn to like it, and the rest of applause The latter e, Of course in order to be able to talk knowingly about it. T compulsion usually hum the airs while they are being sung, so that their hey bad been neighbours may perceive that they have been to operas before. elit, Sob The funerals of these do not occur often enough. rof costmes A gentle, old-maidish person and a sweet young girl of there was not seventeen sat right in front of us that night at the Mannheim ch really done, opera. These people talked between the acts, and I understood them, though I understood nothing that was uttered on the £ was what one mitive and & distant stage. At first they were guarded in their talk, but but all in an after they had heard my agent and me conversing in Engli sh o of that sorb they dropped their reserve, and I picked up many of their little y stand down confidences ; no, I mean many of ker little confidences—meaning the elder party—for the young girl only listened, and gave d kegp hold- How pretty she was, ¢ them back assenting nods, but never said a word. Bust and how sweet she was! I wished she would speak. ;nd then the evidently she was absorbed in her own thoughts, her ow n young- 7 Tioter fgr parrative 10 girl dreams, and found a dearer pleasure in silence. But she was not dreaming sleepy dreams—no, she was awake, alive, instruments; alert; she could not sit still a moment. She was an enchanting ; was hopig study. Her gown was of a soft white silky stuff that clung to fy the 00186y her round young figure like a fish’s skin, and it was rippled over id suddenly with the gracefullest little fringy films of lace; she had deep, times thre tender eyes, with long, curved lashes; and she had peachy , the orpla? 40 A TRAMNP ABDROAD. Jke Il cheeks, and a dimpled chin, and such a dear little dewy rosebud [ fad 1 1 bt of a mouth ; and she was so dove-like, so pure, and so gracious 12 gf € 50 sweet and bewitching. For long hours I did mi ghtily wish 0 ".hlte 0 $byno il l she would speak. And at last she did ; the red lips parted, and hitt ot out leaped her thought, and with such a guil At eflCOm eless and pretty enthusiasm too: ¢Auntie, I just Znow I've got five hundred bt i 7% (ne fleas on me !’ I ofhers thi fondl "‘ That was probably over the average. Yes, it must have been yerenot mere v very much over the average. The average at that time in the musie JUSLGy 0 from £ Grand Duchy of Baden was forty-five to a young person (when gl il 1‘."11 :123 “:I i alone), according to the official estimate of tl he Home Secretary any an W for that year; the average for older people was shifty and inde- terminable, for whenever a wholesome young girl came into the ke o0 gy th 1t presence of her elders she immediately lowered their average and il raised her own. She became a sort of contribution-box. This ‘B dear young thing in the theatre had been sitting there uncon- the fo atha 0 sciously taking up a collection. Many a skinny old being in our (Ui neighbourhood was the happier and the restfuller for her coming. 1011 K T In that large audience, that night, there were eight very con- spicuous people. These were ladies who had their hats or bon- i nets on. What a blessed thing it would be if a lady could make elarge 0D n \i herself conspicuous in our theatres by wearing her hat! It is ad been | d! not usual in Furope to allow ladies and gentlemen to take bon- Tlee was anof nets, hats, overcoats, canes, or umbrellas into the auditorium, but {he personof ; in Mannheim this rule was not enforced because the audiences d S 0] were largely made up of people from a distance, and among i il fhet teno’ these were always a few timid ladies who were afraid that if they had to go into an ante-room to get their things when the play shrie K s ofaly was over, they would miss their train. But the great mass of those That i who came a distance always ran the risk and took the chances, drady ) preferring the loss of the train to a breach of good manners and I 16 8 the discomfort of being unpleasantly conspicuous during a stretch \{ of three or four hours. it Ul ld she % which wa; o . CHAPTER X. ) CUJfO solg 6 a0 Is‘nidll l?:qdji‘llr TnrEE or four hours! Thatis a long time to sit in ore place, I gy g whether one be conspicuous or not, yet some of Wagner’s operas bang along for six whole hours on a stretch ! % and s lingg But the people sit there and enjoy it all, and wish it w ould last longer. A German AL gy lady in Munich told me that a \’Ery Extravgg person could not like Wagner's IR music at first, but must go through the deliberate process of Wy A TRAMP ABROAD. 41 dex ¥ 1 thug 0 Sacioyg tearning to like it—then he would have his sure reward; for d chtlly Wi when he had learned to like it he would hunger for it and never be able to get enough of it. She said that six hours of Wagner 1 18 panteq 1 S A1 d Prett v was by no means too much. She said that this composer had b fiy ¢ hugqg made a complete revolution in music, and was burying the old masters one by one. And she said that Wagner’s operas differed my — from all others in one notable respect, and that was that they dag MUt Bayg by time iy ¢ lie were not merely spotted with music here and there, but were all music, from the first strain to the last. This surprised me. I 3 erson (g 0me 0 § eeretary said I had attended one of his insurrections, and found hardly She said ¢ Lohen- 1 and nge. any music in it except the Wedding Chorus. - Came grin’ was noisier than Wagner’s other operas, but that if I would 0 the v ir.}t keep on going to see it I should find by-and-by that it was all (2 08 and music, and therefore would then enjoy it. I could have said, 1-00g, T ¢ But would you advise a person to deliberately practise having ' tl}erp u}xcon: the toothache in the pit of his stomach for a couple of years in i I order that he might then come to enjoy it?> But I reserved that her ‘comir‘g. remark, It very (‘0!11 LI'J} This lady was full of the praises of the head-tenor who had 1as or bon- performed in a Wagner opera the night before, and went on to dy conld make enlarge upon his old and prodigious fame, and how many honours er hat! Tt : had been lavished upon him by the princely houses of Germany. to take bon- Here was another surprise. I had attended that very opera, in uditorium, but the person of my agent, and had made close and accurate obser- {he andiences vations. So I said : e, and among ¢ Why, madam, my experience warrants me in stating that = ) = hat if they that tenor’s voice is not a voice at all, but only a shrick—the when the play shriek of a hyena.’ a6 mass of those ‘That is very true,” she said; ‘he cannot sing now; it is the chances already many years that he has lost his voice, but in other times | manmers dil m 0 he sang, yes, divinely ! So whenever he comes, now, you shall Iring a strefch see, yes, that the theatre will not hold the people. Jawohl be: Gott ! his voice is wunderschin in that past time.’ I said she was discovering to me a kindly trait in the Germans which was worth emulating. I said that over the water we were not quite so generous; that with us, when a singer had lost his voice and a jumper had lost his legs, these parties ceased to draw. I said I had been to the opera in Hanover once, and in Mann- 1 one place heim once, and in Munich (through my authorised agent) once, ‘ guerys opems and this large experience had nearly persuaded me that the Ger- mans preferred singers who couldn’t sing. This was not such a e people sif A German very extravagant speech either, for that burly Mannheim tenor’s praises had been the talk of all Heidelberg for a week before his e Wagner performance took place, yet his voice was like the distressing to provess ¢ 42 A TRAMP ABROAD. fhel hed ol 17 noise which a nail makes when you screech it across a window- 18 4t mfl“ pane. I said so to Heidelberg friends the next day, and they nite oty @ said, in the calmest and simplest way, that that was very true, [u o of 8¢ but that in earlier times his voice had been wonderfully fine. 0 i endfl““ And the tenor in Hanover was just another example of this sort. ot geate fod The English-speaking German gentleman who went with me to the opera there was brimming with enthusiasm over that tenor. Then 188 sene S ited He said— ¢ Ach Gott! a great man! You shall see him, He is so f st ou o f o b 10 celebrate in all Germany ; and he has a pension, yes, from the i the2ccom) Government. He not obliged to sing now, only twice every ot of fhe 1 ’ year; but if he not sing twice each year they take him his dppd o 28 pension away.’ hma‘i;,‘gut ¥ Very well, we went. When the renowned old tenor appeared, e, Bren I got a nudge and an excited whisper— ¢Now you see him !’ o, Du {lo curtain W But the ¢ celebrate’ was an astonishing disappointment to me. If he had been behind a screen I should have supposed they were orchestra p}'n_\‘t fime,then t2¢] performing a surgical operation on him. I looked at my friend. T'o my great surprise he seemed intoxicated with pleasure, his peverteach f eyes were dancing with eager delight. ‘When the curtain at last never seen th ore, and fell, he burst into the stormiest applause, and kept it up—as did the whole house—until the afflictive tenor had come three times Wallek's Imsat o before the curtain to make his bow. While the glowing enthusiast was swabbing the perspiration from his face, I said— strenming i, up, ad insan ¢I don’t mean the least harm, but really, now, do you think he can sing?’ —ohody va ¢ Him ! No! Gotit im Himmel, aber, how he has been able with a seet £ ity source, to sing twenty-five years ago !’ [Then pensively.] ¢ 4eh, no, now he not sing any more, he only cry. ‘When he think he s fifeen olders o co sing, now, he not sing at all, no, he only make like a cat which is unwell. and plersnf Where and how did we get the idea that the Germans are a s came stolid, phlegmatic race ? In truth, they are widely removed from COLES Wait I that. They are warm-hearted, emotional, impulsive, enthusiastic, IS o] T [y the their tears come at the mildest touch, and it is not hard to move them to laughter. They are the very children of impulse. We bnied the i are cold and self-contained, compared with the Germans. el et They hug and kiss and cry and shout and dance and sing ; and where it ey } we use one loving, petting expression, they pour out a score. 1pecti of Their language is full of endearing diminutives; nothing that they s why ¢ love escapes the application of a petting diminutive—neither the Vuags ay B, house, nor the dog, nor the horse, nor the grandmother, nor any . other creature, animate or inanimate. We h&d ] A TRAMP ABROAD. 43 A0t an indow. ]ext d{ly In the theatres at Hanover, Hamburg, and Mannheim, they lat and they had a wise custom. The moment the curtain went up, the lights Vs vey The audience sat in the Vondery) in the body of the house went down. cool gloom of a deep twilight, which greatly enhanced the glow- mple f )3 S sopt ing splendours of the stage. It saved gas, too, and people were 0 Weng Wi th e not sweated to death. L0ver fh fengy, When I saw ‘King Lear’ played, nobody was allowed to see a scene shifted ; if there was nothing to be done but slide a : hfm' He fs % forest out of the way and expose a temple beyond, one did not 0, Y25, fron see that forest split itself in the middle and go shrieking away, iy ice every with the accompanying disenchanting spectacle of the hands and 6 take hipy lis heels of the impelling impulse—no, the curtain was always dropped for an instant—one heard not the least movement be- dtenor appeaneg hind it—but when it went up, the next instant, the forest was gone. Even when the stage was being entirely re-set, one heard no noise. During the whole time that ¢ King Lear’ was playing, The pointment t the curtain was never down two minutes at any one time. ppose they e orchestra played until the curtain was ready to go up for the first time, then they departed for the evening. Where the stage-waits el at my frien], I had ith pleasure, bis never reach two minutes, there is no occasion for music. Io curtain at Jgs never seen this two-minute business between acts but once 6 16 up—as did before, and that was when the ¢Shaughran’ was played at ome three times Wallack’s. I was at a concert in Munich one night, the people were owing enthusiag lid— streaming in, the clock-hand pointed to seven, the music struck up, and instantly all movement in the body of the house ceased oW, do you think —nobody was standing, or walking up the aisles, or fumbling e has been able with a seat, the stream of incomers had suddenly dried up at its source. I listened undisturbed to a piece of music that ely.] Aoy, hen he think be was fifteen minutes long—always expecting some tardy ticket- Jike 4 cat which holders to come crowding past my knees, and being continuously and pleasantly disappointed—but when the last note was struck, You see, they had made those late (Germans are 3 here came the stream again. comers wait in the comfortable waiting-parlour from the time the g removed {rom music had begun until it was ended. Te, enthusiasti Tt was the first time I had ever seen this sort of criminals of hard to mové denied the privilege of destroying the comfort of a house full of impulse e their betters. Some of these were pretty fine birds, but no ermans. e matter, they had to tarry outside in the long parlour under the ne; and where inspection of a double rank of liveried footmen and waiting- 1 out & S maids who supported the two walls with their backs and held othing that they the wraps and traps of their masters and mistresses on their re—neithe 7 08 &rms. othe, 20t &1 We had no footmen to hold our things, and it was not per- 14 A TRANP ABROAD, & missible to take them into the concert room; but there w GLE [l gl Pq‘“c | 0! some men and women to take charge of them for us. They gave sl b 1P ol us checks for them and charged a fixed price, payab le in advance and —five cents. artd 0 i e In Germany they always hear one thing at an opera which e ; I the has never yet been heard in America, perhaps—I mean the closing strain of a fine solo or duet. 480 We always smash into it it e“C\O’i 0 f ) with an earthquake of applause. The result is that we rob our- i o he selves of the sweetest part of the treat ; we get the whisky, but nay € we don’t get the sugar in the bottom of the glass. K e Our way of scattering applause along through an act scems 000 1t to me to be better than t! o (1 1e Mannheim way of saving it all up c0red till the act is ended. I do not see how an actor can forget him- i self and portray hot passionhefore a cold still audience. I should B ks het think he would feel foolish. It is a pain to me to this day, to remember how that old German Lear ra qod hes @ pge’is zed and wept and howled cets of beng £ around the stage, with never a response from that hushed house, may ke never a single outburst till the act was ended. To me there was 036008 (vffl!l[ something unspeakably uncomfortable in the solemn dead silences ] E mich, that B J that always followed this old person’s tremendous outpourin as | Tere of his feelings. I could not help putting myse If in his place—I them 10 thought I knew how sick and flat he felt during those silences, yould 11 because I remembered a case which came under my obsecrvation fl e e ne d ne al once, and which—but I will tell the incident: 006 10 (1 One evening on board a Mississipy v lu‘a{t ] b1 steamboat, a boy of ten fook 3 years lay asleep in a berth—a long, slim-legged boy, he was en- $he prof cased in quite a short shirt; it was the first time Le had ever Water-pipes, § made a trip on a steamboat, and so he was troubl ed, and scared, I Al (% e o and had gone to bed, with his head filled with i mpending snag- st of need, gings, and explosions, and conflagrations, and sudden death. American mg About ten o’clock some twenty ladies were sitting around about sole andience, i the ladies’ saloon, quietly reading, sewing, embroidering, and so ity the I !l | on, and among them sat a sweet, benignant old dame with round spectacles on her nose and her bus o wal y Lnitting-needles in her hands. Now all of a sudden, into the midst of thi Kingsntere s peaceful s, He scene burst that slim-shanked boy in tl 1¢ brief shirt, wild-eyed, Tis o erect-haired, and shouting, ¢ Fire, fire ! Jump and run, the boat’s afire, and there ain’t a minute to lose !’ fum on e All those ladies looked The mang sweetly up and smiled, nobody stirred, the old lady pulled her spectacles down, looked over them, and said, gently— Wold i g A9 cried— ‘But you mustn’t catch cold, child. tun and put on your breast-pin, and then come and tell ugs all about it.” *No g Wifer|! It was acruel chill to give to apoor little devil’s gushing velie- iy mence. He was expecting to be a sort of hero—the creator of % {he ¢ er [gngg A TRAM ABROAD. 45 lory (A (01 a wild panic—and here everybody sat and smiled a mocking (A7) €Y gayg 10 i gmile, and an old woman made fun of his bugbear. I turned and crept humbly away—for I was that boy—and never even Al a g cared to discover whether I had dreamed the fire or actually d AN§— Pera Wliigh geen it. Negy ), ‘S Sag I am told that in a German concert or opera they hardly § that hity a song j LT ever encore (=) ) that though they may be dying to hear it & the g 3 U )| again, their good breeding usually preserves them against re- quiring the repetition. Kings may encore ; that is quite another matter; it delights 4y N 2ch soepy Tlta [th] everybody to see that the King ispleased ; and as to the actor [ CQ encored, his pride and gratification are simply boundless. Still, L 10r0et i} Ce, there are circumstances in which even a royal encore— 0 i But it is better to illustrate. 'l ¢ O-I'i.\i The King of Bavaria is a poet, | i 8 day, ty aad has a poet’s eccentricities—with the advantage over all other band ligyl) oL poets of being able to gratify them, no matter what form they it hushe] | 10U 0 To me I may take. He is fond of the opera, but not fond of sitting in the Icre “‘I\«“, presence of an audience ; therefore, it has sometimes occurred, in e dead sienees Munich, that when an opera has been concluded and the players 1003 fponrings were getting off their paint and finery, a command has come to £ in b plage—] them to get their paint and finery on again. Presently the King 7 those lences would arrive, solitary and alone, and the players would begin at 10y observation the beginning and do the entire opera over again with only that Once he one individual in the vast solemn theatre for audience. oafy & boy of ten took an odd freak into his head. High up and out of sight, over 0y, e was en- the prodigious stage of the court theatre is a maze of interlacing 6 lie had erer water-pipes, so pierced that, in case of fire, innumerable little and seared, thread-like streams of water can be caused to descend; and in il nding sag- case of need, this discharge can be augmented to a pouring flood. d en death, American managers might make a note of that. The king was ng around about sole audience. The opera proceeded, it was a piece with a storm 1ng, a nd 0 ), 1liog the mimic thunder began to mutter, the mimic wind ame \; ith round began to wail and sough, and the mimic rain to patter. The needles in her King’s interest rose higher and higher: it developed into enthu- th 1 3 pcacefi:l glasm. He cried out— But I will have real rain! hirt, wild-yed ¢It is good, very good indeed ! turn on the water !’ un, the loat , Jadies looked The manager pleaded for a reversal of the command; said it ady pulled Jer would ruin the costly scenery and the splendid costumes, but the — King cried— ill have real rain! Turn on the ¢ No miatter, no matter, I w Ei put o Jou water |’ So the real rain was turned on and began to descend in gossa~ gushing veber f mer lances to the mimic flower beds and gravel walks of the _the creator 0 46 A TRAMP ABROAD. el stage. The richly dressed actresses and acto rs tripped about P et pli singing bravely and pretending not to mind i t the G i He cried out— The King wag ) ]l‘h edl delighted—his enthusiasm grew higher. it o) ¢ Bravo, bravo ! More thunder! more lightning | turn on d fllfm Al more rain !’ g ot (7 I\ s abt ! The thunder boomed, the lightning glared, the storm-windg Yo raged, the deluge poured down. The mimic ro yalty on the stage, ot Diee with their soaked satins clinging to their bod c,)eNlfl 05 ies, slopped around ankle-deep in water, warbling their sweetest and best, the fiddlers m]ofle 0 under the eaves of the stage sawed away f or dear life, with the and (t ] of t cold overflow spouting down the backs of my 0y an their necks, and the d I\ dry and happy King sat in his lofty box, and wore his gloves to I JRES ribbons applauding. Pl thi 00 hing | ¢ More yet !’ cried the King; ‘more yet—let loose all the i thunder, turn on all the water ! I will hang the man that raises from b an umbrella !’ T yantel ol When this most tremendous and effective storm that had ever afid thabm been produced in any theatre was at last over, the King’s appro- fheir judgme bation was measureless, He cried— unknowa 10 ¢ Magnificent, magnificent ! FEncore ! Do it again !’ (gl lumin But the manager succeeded in persuading him to recall the Jadit hung 4 Ant Exhibi encore, and said the company would feel sufficiently rewarded and complimented in the mere fact th at the encore was desired by i‘ ficafion 1t e Lis Majesty, without fatiguin to 08 1t a0 U 0 g him with a repetition to gratify their own vanity. vighit, Jbm During the remainder of the act the lucky performers were tion, Bt ¢ those whose parts required changes of dress; the others were a m:mgersz il soaked, bedraggled, and uncomfortable Iot , but in the last degree were not, ol picturesque. The stage scenery was ruined, trap-doors were so entered the Mr, Har gwollen that they wouldn’t work for a week afterwards, the fine costumes were spoiled, and no end of minor damages were done myselfand by that remarkable storm. somg orders; It was a royal idea—that storm—and royally carried out. ke pe But observe the moderation of the King : he did not insist upon i on 4 f his encore. If he had been a gladsome, unreflecting American brong, App opera-audience, he probably would have had his storm repeated Tlined g and repeated until he drowned all those people. fhese e ad, vyt CHAPTER XI. Ve oty Beglected by Veaty THE summer days passed pleasantly in Heidelberg. We had a by e — 0ut iy skilled trainer, and under his instructions we were getting our TOUgHE legs in the right condition for the contemplated pedestrian tours; Vilfug, | ! Ap A TRAMP ABROAD. 47 lony g \ Ipe Ay W I 1o wo were well satisfied with the progress which we had made in ] 10g v the German language,! and more than satisfied with what we had accomplished in Art. We had had the best instructors in drawing lightuingl fuy and painting in Germany—Hdmmerling, Vogel, Miiller, Dietz, vthec and Schumann. Himmerling taught us landscape painting, tOTm Wing Opalty 0 the g Tar Vogel taught us figure drawing, Miiller taught us to do still-life, 09 and Dietz and Schumann gave us a finishing course in two | ) Opped aro) I n i i = nd ship wrecks. Whatever I am in 5 he i special’cies—bat’clepioces a Art I owe to these men. I have something of the manner of each ey ) and all of them; but they all said that I had also a manner of T Decks, g th Wore hl\ o] 0ves my own, and that it was conspicuous. They said there was a marked individuality about my style, insomuch that if I ever painted the commonest type of a dog, I should be sure to throw ~lgt looge all g I a something into the aspect of that dog which would keep him e mag {hat s 6 from being mistaken for the creation of any other artist. Secretly I wanted to believe all these kind sayings, but I could not; I was o that had gy afraid that my masters’ partiality for me, and pride in me, biassed the King' ap I (e their judgment. So I resolved to make a test. Privately, and unknown to any one, I painted my great picture, ¢ Heidelberg it again ! Castle Illuminated >—my first really important work in oils—and ‘ im t0 reeal] had it hung up in the midst of a wilderness of oil pictures in the Art Exhibition, with no name attached to it. To my great grati- ciently rewande] Was desired by fication it was instantly recognised as mine. ~ All the town flocked to see it, and people even came from neighbouring localities to eition to gut] i visit it. Jt made more stir than any other work in the Exhibi- 7 petformens were tion. But the most gratifying thing of all was that chance the others were strangers, passing through, who had not heard of my picture, in the last degres were not only drawn to it, as by a loadstone, the moment they entered the gallery, but always took it for a ¢ Turner.’ rap-doors ere 5 teryands, the e Mr. Harris was graduated in Art about the same time with mages vere dou myself, and we took a studio together. We waited awhile for some orders; then as time began to drag a little, we concluded After much consideration we deter- ally carried ot to make a pedestrian tour. ] not insist upon mined on a trip up the shores of the beautiful Neckar to Heil- bronn. Apparently nobody had ever done that. There were oting Americn s storm repea:ed ruined castles on the overhanging cliffs and crags all the way; these were said to have their legends, like those on the Rhine, There and, what was better still, they had never been in print. had been was nothing in the books about that lovely region, it neglected by the tourist, it was virgin soil for the literary pioneer, Meantime the knapsacks, the rough walking-suits, and the stout walking-shoes which w e had ordered, were finished and o, We hads brought to us. A Mr. X. and a young Mr. Z. had agreed to go b geting O with"us. We went aroun d one evening and bade good-bye to destrian 10053 ! See Appendix D for information concerning this fearful tongue, 48 A TRAMP ABR 04D, 7 " our friends, and afterwards had a Little £ d gl 8 wwewell banquet at the el 16 000 hotel. We got to bed early, for we w, anted to make an earl iy start, so as to take adv Y 0 gre antage of the cool of the morning, he We were out of bed at break of da :tOCLti r y, feeling fresh and vigo- ek ar 100 rous, and took a hearty breakfast , then plunged down through gome 0 the leafy arcades of the Castle grou Jand or nds, towards the town. What find h he \\fll I a glorious summer morning it was, and how the flowers di d pour pid N0 out their fragrance, and how the birds did sing! It w. as just the Tie neach time for a tramp through the woods and mountains, {hyee hours & We were all dressed alike: broad slouch h ats, to keep the sun off; grey knapsacks; blue army shirts; adardered D blue overalls; qaeniledld leathern gaiters buttoned tight from knee down t o ankle; high- | quarter coarse shoes snugly laced. Hach man h qud diry ad an opera-glass, a canteen, and a guide-book ¢ ase slung over his shoulder, and years dimtgy carried an alpenstock in one food thee 1 hand and a sun umbrella in the other. Around our hats were wound many folds of soft white it, hepta think the muslin, with the ends hanging and fi apping down our backs—ar idea broug ht from the Orient and used by tourists all over B windows 1 HI‘()I?O. Harris carried the little watch-like machine c alled a ¢ pedometer,’ look, There! whose office is to keep count of a m the an’s steps and tell how far he has walked. Everybody stopped to admire our costumes and i il I t00 give us a hearty ¢ Pleasant march to you !’ A appal When we got down town I found that w Convenle “‘v'. e could go by rail to within five miles of Heilbronn, The train was just starting, so T thought out we jumped aboard and went tearing aw. o oints of ay in splendid spirits. It was agreed all around that we had done wisely, because it would about where § be juss as enjoyable to walk down the Neckar as up it, and it fiom the grou could not be needful to walk both ways. There were some nice Near an. ] German people in our compartment. I got to tal s king some pretty stone—monld private matters presently, and Harris became figures. T nervous; so he nudged me and said— costumes of ¢Speak in Ge lish.’ rman—these Germans may understand Eng- Sariour yag oins, I did so, and it was well I did; for it turned out that there Welad g was not a German in that party who did not understand tothe hote g English perfectly. It is curious how widesj pread our language Went fo hed. is in Germany. After a while some of tho se folks got out, and e aftery a German gentleman and his two young daughters got in. Il spoke in German to one of the latter several t Ot g imes, but withous ey result. Finally she said— ¢ Ich verstehe nur Deutsch und & ish, ang iy nglisch *—or words to that gy, eect. That is, ‘I don’t understand any language but German rOHIl,before and English.’ And sure enough, not cnly she but her father and sister spoke ;’ ber k;:,a a hang A TRAMP ABROAD. 43 g f ot | gk e English. So after that we had all the talk we wanted; and we €] j 10 wanted a good deal, for they were a very pleasant people. They { e h a Vi were greatly interested in our costumes; especially the alpen- Qo gy stocks, for they had not seen any before. They said that the Neckar road was perfectly level, so we must be going to Switzer- g fow L0weyg dld land or some other rugged country ; and asked us if we did not I find the walking pretty fatiguing in such warm weather. But g jug {hy — we said No. 10 egp g} We reached Wimpfen—TI think it was Wimpfen—in about three hours, and got out, not the least tired ; found a good hotel Mfl(‘, 0"6]‘[{“ i; 0 aukle: ) and ordered beer and dinner; then took a stroll through the ¥ o 0 ! venerable old village. Ttwas very picturesque and tumble-down, S, and dirty and interesting. Ay Q) It had queer houses five hundred d yearsold in it, and a military tower, 115 feet high, which had stood there more than ten centuries. I made a little sketch of of A t};g it. Tkept a copy, but gave the original to the Burgomaster. I A think the original was better than the copy, because it had more windows in it, and the grass stood up better and had a brisker 4 pedor look. There was none around the tower, though ; I composed tell hoy dl' 1f the grass myself, from studies I made in a field by Heidelberg in costumes an( Himmerling’s time. The man on top, looking at the view, is apparently too large, but I found he could not be made smaller i rall 0 conveniently. T wanted him there, and I wanted him visible, so g0 b‘\.' ' 8ia ng, 89 o) I thought out a way to manage it ; I composed the picture from 18, I two points of view ; the spectator is to observe the man from I Il about where that flag is, and he must observe the tower itself 1t a8 upl, from the ground. This harmonises the seeming discrepancy. Near an old cathedral, under a shed, were three crosses of 0 mne Ij stone—mouldy and damaged things bearing life-size stone o figures. The two thieves were dressed in the fanciful court ervous; 50 ‘1 costumes of the middle of the sixteenth century, while the Jerstand Eng- Saviour was nude, with the exception of a cloth around the loins. ut that there We had dinner under the green trees in a garden belonging to the hotel and overlooking the Neckar ; then, after a smoke, we t understand went to bed. our language We had a refreshing nap, then got up about three in the afternoon and put on our panoply. As we traniped gaily 5 gob oty and - out at the gate of the town, we overtook a peasant’s cart, partly 15 gob il laden with odds and ends of cabbages and similar vegetable rub- ,but without bish, and drawn by a small cow and a smaller doakey yoked together. It was a pretty slow concern, but it got us into Heil- wwords to that bronn before dark—five miles, or possibly it was seven. put Germad We stopped at the very same inn which the famous old rob- 7 ber knight and rough fighter, Gtz von Berlichingen, abode in d gister SPOk ! E A TRAMP ABROAD. 60 i i our after he got out of captivity in the Square Tower of Heilbronn eflch ol [3 between three hundred and fifty and four hundred years ago. e to Harris and I occupied the same room which he had occupied, and The furniture s ob ¢ the same paper had not all peeled off the walls yet. was quaint old carved stuff, full four hundred years old, and some o fhese W o6 f0 of the smells were over a thousand. There was a hook in the gl wall, which the landlord said the terrific old GGtz used to hang (D his iron hand on when he took it off to go to bed. Thisroom b Vi e I was very large—it might be called immense—and it was on the first floor ; which means it was in the second story, for in Europe 01 the houses are 5o high that they do not count the first story, else TR %0 they would get tired climbing before they got to the top. Thewall fhe r paper was a fiery red, with huge gold figu res in it, well smirched adof o These doors fitted so by time, and it covered all the doors Tw a g snugly and continued the figures of the paper so unbrokenly that when they were closed one had to go feeling and searching arier li There was a stove in the corner— along the wall to find them. one of those tall, square, stately white porcelain things that looks like a monument, and keeps you thinking of death when you i ought to be enjoying your travels. The windows looked out on a little alley, and over that into a stable and some poultry and I ) L pig yards in the rear of some tenement houses. There were the customary two beds in the room, one in one end of it, the other SOUL in the other, about an old-fashioned brass-mounted single-barrelled 1 common pistol-shot apart. They were fully as narrow as the usual Ger- man bed, too, and had the German bed’s ineradicable habit of ballad spilling the blankets on the floor every time you forgot yourself rilch ) and went to sleep. 2 hich A round table as large as King Arthur’s stood in the centre s of of the room ; while the waiters were getting ready to serve our Qi:fl‘ q dinner on it we all went out to see the renowned clock on the front 10¢ s of the municipal buildings. amor, ol CHAPTER XILI. ity Tue Rathhaus, or municipal building, is of the quaintest and Wore for most picturesque Middle-Age architecture. It has a massive Tethey, portico and steps before it, heavily b alustraded, and adorned with The clock-face Siny of life-size rusty iron knights in complete armour. though on the front of the building is very large, and of curious pattern. Band Ordinarily a gilded angel strikes the hour on a big bell with a “’e \ hammer ; as the striking ceases, a life-size figure of Time raisca Wisg Te A TRAMP ABROAD 51 lhl‘onn = 5 earg a, its hour-glass and turns it; two golden rams advance and butt - CCHp1ed ang — each other; a gilded cock lifts its wings; but the main features 1 fumify are two great angels, who stand on each side of the dial with long horns at their lips: 0 ,dnd Some it was said that they blew melodious blasts 4 ogk iy on these horns every hour ; but they did not do it for us. We Used ) ) hang were told later that they blew only at night when the town was his 00 - still 16W2g p ghy Within the Rathhaus were a number of huee wild boars for in By oge heads, preserved and mounted on brackets along the wall they story. d bore inscriptions telling who killed them, and how many hundred op, Th g vall €2, years ago it was done One room in the building was devoted to the preservation of ancient archives There they showed us no il § 0 end of aged documents; some were signed by Popes, some by £0 Tilley and other great Generals, and one was a letter written and rand s d ™ subscribed by Gtz von Berlichingen in Heilbronn in 1519, just after his release from the Square Tower. This fine old robber-knight was a devoutly and sincerely religious man, hospitable, charitable to the poor, fearless in fight ked out o active, enterprisin and possessed of a large and generous nature. Ile had in him a quality which was rare in that rough time— e I the quality of being able to overlook moderate injuries, and of being able to forgive and forget mortal ones as soon as he had fth soundly trounced the 'mthols of them. e was prompt to take le-bar 0d up any poor devil’s quarrel and risk his neck to right him. The wal G common folk held him dear, and his memory is still green in ballad and tradition e used to go on the highway and rob 101 of you rich wayfarers; and other times he would swoop down from his e high castle on the hills of the Neckar and capture passing car- n i 6 CE goes of merchandise In his Memoirs he piously thanks the Giver of all Good for remembering him in his needs and deliver- ockont G 1LV ing sundry such cargoes into his hands at times when only I special providences could have relieved him He was a doughty warrior, and found a deep joy in battle In an assault upon a stronghold in Bavaria, when he was only twenty-three years old his right hand was shot away, but he was so interested in the ficht that he did not observe it for a while. He said that the ’i’ iron hand which was made for him afterward, and which he t al i n‘E‘ wore for more than half a century, was nearly as clever a has & I asire member as the fleshy one had been I was glad to get a fuc- i simile of the letter written by this fine old German Robin Hood 1 odomed ™ he clock o [i though I was notable to read it He was a better artist with his af fell sword than with his pen qrious P It We went down by the river and saw the Square Tower bwbell“‘“fl was a very venerable structure, very stron and very unorna- f Time B 2 A TRAMP ABROAD. ;%] frndes mental. There was no opening near the ground. They had to {lis 00¢ " use a ladder to get into it, r 8} o doubt. 1 church, also, a curious old structure, ple 3! ‘We visited the principa dorned with all sorts of grotesque oy with a tower-like spire a Very The inner walls o £ the church were placarded with images. bearing engraved inscriptions yomen large mural tablets of copper, celebrating the merits o f old Heilbro nn worthies of two or three siegery bearing rudely-painted efligies of them- meDy put centuries ago, and also No, selves and their families tricked out in the queer costumes of The The head of the family sat in the foreground, and those days. pharaad beyond him extended a sh arply receding and diminishing row of gons; facing him sat his wife, and beyond her extended a long i st The family was usually large, {he 1] row of diminishing daughters. M but the perspective bad. Then we hired the hack and the horse which Gtz von e i and drove several miles into the Berlichingen used to use, fhe gua country to visit the place ¢ alled Weibertreu—Wife's Fidelity, I it Was1 It was a feudal ¢ astle of the Middle Ages. suppose it means. pic’ged @ i When we reached its ne ighbourhood we fou nd it was beautifully round and tolerably e and situated, but on top of a mound, or hill, Therefore, as the sun it steep, and about two hundred feet high. was blazing hot, we did not climb up ther e, but took the place and hile the horse leaned - e f, on trust, an d observed it from a distance, W up again st a fence and rested. The place has no interest except being 1 that whic head Al h is lent it by its legend, which is a very pretty one— to this effect g 07 THE LEGEND. i Tn the Middle Ages a couple o f young dukes, brothers, took o li{ st he one fighting for the Em- that th opposit e sides in one of the wars, t Amg peror, the other against him. One of them owned the castle and f the mound w hich T have been speaking of; and el village on top o ki I d in his absence his broth er came with his knights and soldiers and Tt was a long and tedious business; for the people e began a siege. But at last their supplies filly g made a stubborn and faithful defence. ran out, and starvation began its wor k; more fell by hunger i g, They by-and-by surren- Was ng than by the missiles of the enemy. dered, and begged for charitable terms. But the beleaguering Were (%5 was so incensed against them for their long resist ance that allthe prince he said he would spare none but the womenand children—all the . and i men should be put to the sword wi thout exception, and all their fld i g oods destroyed. Then the women came and fell on their knees and g and begge d for the lives of their husbands. The o d the prince, ‘not a man of them shall escape alive; ¢ No,’ sai and g you yourselv es shall go with your children into houseless and Wit} th( A TRAMP ABROAD. 53 Yhey bad 1y friendless banishment; but that you may not starve I grant you sty this one grace, that each woman may bear with her from this fure, Qotesqug place as much of her most valuable property as she is able to ande] iy carry. micr'lpfions Very well, presently the gates swung open and out filed those W0 0 thyg women carrying their husbands on their shoulders. The be- 63 0f thepy. siegers, furious at the trick, rushed forward to slaughter the Costumeg of men, but the Duke stepped between and said— qround, ang ¢ No, put up your swords—a prince’s word is inviolable.” g roy of When we got back to the hotel, King Arthur’s Round Table ded 5 long was ready for us in its white drapery, and the head waiter and ] Jt his first assistant, in swallow-tails and white cravats, brought in ually flrge, the soup and the hot plates at once. b Gtz von Mr. X. had ordered the dinner, and when the wine came on, 0 the he picked up a bottle, glanced at the label, and then turned to the grave, the melancholy, the sepulchral head waiter, and said it was not the sort of wine he had asked for. The head waiter le Ares picked up the bottle, cast his undertaker-eye on it, and said :— beautifi;li’y ¢Ii is true ; I beg pardon.’ Then he turned on his subordi- d tolerably , a3 the sun nate and calmly said, ¢ Bring another label.’ At the same time he slid the present label off with his hand k the placa horse leaned and laid it aside; it had been newly put on, its paste was still wet. When the new label came, he put it on; our French wine erest except being now turned into German wine, according to desire, the DIetty ome— head waiter went blandly about his other duties, as if the work- ing of this sort of miracle was a common and easy thing to him. Mr. X. said he had not known before that there were people 00K honest enough to do this miracle in public, but he was aware ¢ fm that thousands upon thousands of labels were imported into ho America from Europe every year, to enable dealers to furnish to of and their customers, in a quiet and inexpensive way, all the different gldiersand kinds of foreign wines they might require. o the people We took a turn around the town, after dinner, and found it eir supples fully as interesting in the moonlight as it had been in the day time. The streets were narrow and roughly paved, and there by hunger was not a sidewalk or a street lamp anywhere. The dwellings -y » by surren: were centuries old, and vast enough for hotels. They widened )deagueriflg all the way up ; the stories projected further and further forward stance thot rell’“n the and aside as they ascended, and the long rows of lighted windows, T filled with little bits of panes, curtained with figured white muslin nd all fheir and adorned outside with boxes of flowers, made a pretty effect. their kneéd The moon was bright, and the light and shadow very strongs; and nothing could be more picturesque than those curving streets, scape glive; with their rows of huge high gables leaning far over toward )ugelcfi an : b4 A TRAMP ABROAD. hefl aflfllfl each other in a friendly gossiping way, and the crowds below s In drifting through the alternating blots of gloom and mellow bars i o0 of moonlight. Nearly everybody was abroad, chatting, singing, ety romping, or massed in lazy comfortable attitudes in the door- b%lflg that ways. had fdfl?fl In one place there was a public building which was fenced about with a thick, rusty chain, which sagged from post to post one Bt fhe WC in a succession of low swings. The pavement here was made of erodia] heavy blocks of stone. In the glare of the moon a party of bare- orer moré footed children were swinging on those chains and having a noisy i ¢ good time. They were not the first ones who had done that; even their great-great-grandfathers had not been the first to do it oint OF hat as when they were children. The strokes of the bare feet had worn grooves inches deep in the stone flags; it had taken many gene- iy rations of swinging children to accomplish that. Everywhere in anl i‘qfl‘& e the town were the mould and decay that go with antiquity, and pNflChE evidence it; butI donot know that anything else gave us so vivid 10 u’ a sense of the old age of Heilbronn as those foot-worn grooves in the paving stones. 107 neare—1 ad g as 16 th Tearer CHAPTER XIIL Tom; 1t had held WEEN we got back to the'hotel I wound and set the pedometer and put it in my pocket, for I was to carry it next day and keep Vel record of the miles we made. The work which we had given sleepat the instrument to do during the day which had just closed, had Tess thon not fatigued it perceptibly. o Listen We were in bed by ten, for we wanted to be up and away counting on our tramp homeward with the dawn. I hung fire, but Harris Was et went to sleep at once. I hate a man who goes to sleep at once ; be L coul there is a sort of indefinable something about it which is not biswor; exactly an insult, and yet is an insolence; and one which is hard then, ad to bear, too. I lay there fretting over this injury, and trying to 61l o go to sleep; but the harder I tried the wider awake I grew. I a§ menf; got to fecling very lonely in the dark, with no company but an s fo undigested dinner. My mind got a start by-and-by, and began Which g to consider the beginning of every subject which has ever been that ity thought of; but it never went further than the beginning ; it info feg was touch and go; it fled from topic to topic with a frantic speed. ~hut it At the end of an hour my head was in a perfect whirl, and ity I was dead tired, fagged out. thrngh The fatigue was so great that it presently began to make some Iy a 4 TRAMP ABROAD. 65 OV bl I head against the nervous excitement ; while imagining myself wide tlnu Q gy barg ' awake, I would really doze into momentary unconsciousnesses, .08 g 1 the dogy. and come suddenly out of them with a physical jerk which nearly wrenched my joints apart—the delusion of the instant being that I was tumbling backwards over a precipice. After I WS fopggg had fallen over eight or nine precipices and thus found out that Dost t st one half of my brain had been asleep eight or nine times without Yag made o Y of bype, the wide-awake, hard-working other half suspecting it, the v periodical unconsciousnesses began to extend their spell gradually Ba iy over more of my brain-territory, and at last I sank into a drowse - 0ng thy, which grew deeper and deeper and was doubtless just on the very \ frct fo dO It point of becoming a solid, blessed, dreamless stupor, when— tét had worg what was that? Ay gep. My dulled faculties dragged themselves partly back to life, verywhy n and took a receptive attitude. Now out of an immense, a limit- Jy and less distance, came a something which grew and grew, and ap- 8 1l proached, and presently was recognisable as a sound—is bhad I gl‘ooveg 1 rather seemed to be a feeling, before. This sound was a mile away, now—perhaps it was the murmur of a storm; and now it was nearer—not a quarter of a mile away; wasit the muffled rasping and grinding of distant machinery? No, it came still nearer ; But it came was it the measured tramp of a marching troop? nearer still, and still nearer—and at last it was right in the room: it was merely a mouse gnawing the woodwork. So I 6 pedometer had held my breath all that time for such a trifle. ‘Well, what was done could not be helped; I would go to and keep That was a thought- fiven sleep at once and make up the lost time. 6 closed bad less thought. Without intending it—hardly knowing it—TI fell to listening intently to that sound, and even unconsciously p aud awey counting the strokes of the mouse’s nutmeg-grater. Presently I o, but Harris was deriving exquisite suffering from this employment, yet may- be I could have endured it if the mouse had attended steadily to eep af onee; hich 15 nof his work ; but he did not do that; he stopped every now and then, and I suffered more while waiting and listening for him to hich ishard d trying f0 begin again than I did while he was gnawing. Along at first I was mentally offering a reward of five,—six,—seven,—ten dol- I grew, | lars for that mouse; but towards the last I was offering rewards any but an I closereefed my ears,— and began which were entirely beyond my means. that is to say, I bent the flaps of them down, and furled them ever beep into five or six folds, and pressed them against the hearing-orifice, vining; 1t —but it did no good: the faculty was so sharpened by nervous atiospeed excitement that it was become a microphone, and could hear whi] 20 through the overlays without trouble. My anger grew to a frenzy, I finally did what all persons nake S0me 56 4 TR;:iJI[ P ABROAD, o Pfl\Vinz before me have done, clear back to Adam—resolved to throw o foor something. I reached down and got my walking-shoes, then sat al‘ticle', ! up in bed and listened, in order to exactly locate the noise. noise i But I couldn’t do it; it was as unlocatable as a cricket’s noise mays and where one thinks that that is, is always the very place where it isn’t. ke So I presently hurled a shoe at random, and with" a 1 c()lfld I vicious vigour. It struck the wall over Harris’s head and fell It woke fomitur down on him ; IThad notimagined I could throw so far. in the10 Harris, and I was glad of it until I found he was not angry; pov—t then I was sorry. He soon went to sleep again, which pleased me; but straightway the mouse began again, which roused my fimi}iee | i f0 I temper once more. I did not want to wake Harris a second time, ¢ but the gnawing continued until I was compelled to throw the other shoe. This time I broke a mirror—there were two in the degret pent room—I got the largest one of course. Harris woke again, bus did not complain, and I was sorrier than ever. I resolved that I Jeave ¥ would suffer all possible torture before I would disturb him a third time. door—t image The mouse eventually retired, and by-and-by I was sinking to sleep, when a clock began to strike ; I counted till it was done, foran of ilea and was about to drowse again when another clock began; I counted ; then the two great Rathhaus clock angels began to send 1 had‘ fo forth soft, rich, melodious blasts from their long trumpets. I had never heard anything that was so lovely, or weird, or mys- adl me; by terious—but when they got to blowing the quarter-hours, they scemed to me to be overdoing the thing. Every time I dropped best 0 off for a moment, a new noise woke me. i Il Each time I woke, I missed my coverlet, and had to reach down to the floor and get it the YA again. 00 il st (IR At last all sleepiness forsook me. I recognised the fact that I I was hopelessly and permanently wide awake. Wide awake, and feverish and thirsty. When I had lain tossing there as long e 10t § as I could endure it, it occurred to me that it would be a good idea to dress and go out in the great square and take a refreshing the wall wash in the fountain, and smoke and reflect there until the rem- fromupg nant of the night was gone. together I believed I could dress in the dark without waking Harris. ey I had banished my shoes after the mouge, but my slippers would . stood do for a summer night. So I roge softly, and gradually got on i camg everything—down to one sock. I couldn’t seem to get on the [k track of that sock, any way I could fix it. But I had to have it; and gl so I went down on my hands and knees with one slipper on and T the other in my hand, and began to paw gently around and rake the floor, but with no success. SHndaV I enlarged my circle, and went $0Hing A TRAMP ABROAD. 67 ed h to t}lmw on pawing and raking. With every pressure of my knee, how 06 the 1 st itete Ljsp the floor creaked | and every time I chanced to rake against any ieke " article, it seemed to give out thirty-five or thirty-six times more § Nojgg In those cases I :' Pl&ce \\'heré noise than it would have done in the day time. always stopped and held my breath till I was sure Harris had not hang yiy awakened—then I crept along again. I moved on and on, but lEad gnq fol I could not find the sock ; I could not seem to find anything but fin, It Wkg furniture. I could not remember that there was much furniture % 1ot gy ' ) in the room when I went to bed, but the place was alive with it thich ez { now—especially chairs—chairs everywhere—had a couple of A T0use] g families moved in, in the meantime? And I never could seem | 8e00nq tip to glance on one of those chairs, but always struck it full and 0 throw the square with my head. My temper rose, by steady and sure I8 two in tL‘e degrees, and as I pawed on and on, I fell to making vicious com- ke ‘flgnin, g ments under my breath. Ived that | Finally, with a venomous access of irritation, I said I would ] I sturh bim 5 leave without the sock ; so I rose up and made straight for the door—as I supposed—and suddenly confronted my dim spectral Twas sinking image in the unbroken mirror. It startled the breath out of me, for an instant; it also showed me that I was lost, and had no sort | J;t a3 done, of idea where I was. began; | When I realised this, I was so angry that 0 to send I had to sit down on the floor and take hold of something to keep If there rumpets, | from lifting the roof off with an explosion of opinion. eird, or myse had been only one mirror, it might possibly have helped to locate ot} me; but there were two, and two were as bad as a thousand; 0rs, they [ droy besides, these were on opposite sides of the room. I could see the dim blur of the windows, but in my turned-around condition foor and get E they were exactly where they ought not to be, and so they only confused me instead of helping me. | the fact {hat I started to get up, and knocked down an umbrella; it made a noise like a pistol-shot when it struck that hard, slick carpet- Wide awake < there as long less floor; I grated my teeth, and held my breath—Harris did not stir. I set the umbrella slowly and carefully on end against Id be a good 3 refreshing the wall, but as soon as I took my hand away, its heel slipped from under it, and downit came again with another bang. I shrunk ptil the rem- together and listened a moment in silent fury—mno harm done, everything quiet. With the most painstaking care and nicety I king Harris stood the umbrella up once more, took my hand away, and down ippers woul it came again. nally got o I have been strictly reared, but if it had not been so dark p get 0 fhe and solemn and awful there in that lonely vast room, I do believe ] to have 1t I should have said something then which could not be put into a pper o0 an Sunday-school book without injuring the sale of it. If my rea- nd and 22ke soning powers had not been already sapped cry by my harass- I qod wead B8 A TRAMP ABROAD, ments, I would have known better than to try to set an umbrella 1 gl 1 the i on end on one of those glassy German floors in the dark; it can’t be done in the daytime without four failures to one success. 1l e repflrfl’i?“f et 10 had one comfort, though—Iarris was yet still and silent—he had not stirred. il The umbrella could not locate me—there were four standing gD four around the room, and all alike. I thought I would feel along the wall and find the door in that way. I rose up and began this operation, but raked down a picture. It was not a large one, but S it made noise enough for a panorama. Harrisgave out no sound, but I felt that if I experimented any further with the pictures I should be sure to wake him. o the Better give up trying to get out. Yes, I would find King Arthur’s Round Table once more—I puy 18 had already found it several times—and use it for a base of g Jearnet Toto departure on an exploring tour for my bed; if I could find my bed I could then find my water pitcher; I would quench my e best | raging thirst and turn in. So I started on my hands and knees, il because I could go faster that way, and with more confidence, put ] 1 too, and not knock down things. By-and-by I found the table— ) (-{Te all 5 f with my head—rubbed the bruise a little, then rose up and started, with hands abroad and fingers spread, to balance myself. OAHCA I found a chair ; then the wall; then another chair ; then a sofa; ab andv i then an alpenstock, then another sofa; this confounded me, for I T mad had thought there was only one sofa. I hunted up the table Whatar again and took a fresh start ; found some more chairs. from, T It occurred to me, now, as it ought to have done before, that waggon as the table was round, it was therefore of no value as a base to Agun, { aim from; so I moved off once more, and at random among the s out of wilderness of chairs and sofas-—wandered off into unfamiliar the hors regions, and presently knocked a candlestick off a mantelpiece ; sSing- grabbed at the candlestick and knocked off a lamp; grabbed at Mhat the lamp and knocked off a water-pitcher with a rattling crash, other thi and thought to myself, ¢ 've found you at last—I judged I was ot [ close upon you. Harris shouted ‘murder,” and ‘thieves, and frontof{ finished with ¢ ’m absolutely drowned.’ 4 Woran, The crash had roused the house. Mr. X. pranced in in his huf digy ‘K long night garment with a candle, young Z. after him with another Wed candle ; a procession swept in at another door with candles and fi o I lanterns, landlord and two German guests in their nightgowns, the I and a chambermaid in hers. Iy 0 yof I looked around; I was at Harris’s bed, a Sabbath day’s the g ) journey from my home. There was only one sofa, it was against Were frop the wall; there was only one chair where a body could get at it 8910 b —1I had been revolving around it like a planet, and colliding ends, 8 1] with it like a comet half the night. A TRAMP ABROAD. 59 ban n . bl k R I explained how I had been employing myselr, and why. J SUCCesgI Then the landlord’s party left, and the rest of us set about our W dleyt preparations for breakfast, for the dawn was ready to break. I glanced furtively at my pedometer, and found I had made forty- e g, seven miles. But I did not care, for I had come out for a pedes- il | dlong trian tour anyway. e thig A8 (ng, by 0ut ng ‘Ound, 16 Pictayeg | CHAPTER XIV. 3o 266 out, 108 morg—] Woex the landlord learned that I and my agent were artists, our party rose perceptibly in his esteem; we rose still higher when 00 8 Tage of i find my he learned that we were making a pedestrian tour of Europe. He told us all about the Heidelberg road, and which were uench y the best places to avoid, and which the best ones to tarry at; he d kg g ) Ie Confi charged me less than cost for the things I broke in the night; he d the t ah 1 put up a fine luncheon for us, and added to it a quantity of great dl) ) light-green plums, the pleasantest fruit in Germany ; he was so I 5 U and anxious to do us honour that he would not allow us to walk out lance myself, of Heilbronn, but called up Gtz von Berlichingen’s horse and thenasofay cab and made us ride. ded me, for [ I made a sketch of the turn-out. It is not a Work, it is only 1 the fabl what artists call a ¢ study '—a thing to make a finished picture IS, h bt ot from. This sketch has several blemishes in it; for instance, the g before, waggon is not travelling as fast as the horse is. This is wrong. 23 4 base fo Again, the person trying to get out of the way is too small; he om among the is out of perspective, as we say. The two upper lines are not fo unfamiliar the horse’s back, they are the reins; there seems to be a wheel mantelpieee; missing—this would be corrected in a finished Work, of course. That ) I bhed at That thing flying out behind is not a flag, it is-a curtain. Crash, other thing up there is the sun, but I didn’t get enough distance on it. udged [ s I do not remember, now, what that thing is that is in hieves,” aud front of the man who is running, but I think it is a haystack or a woman. This study was exhibited in the Paris Salon of 1879, ed inin bis but did not take any medal ; they do not give medals for studies. ith another We discharged the carriage at the bridge. The river was candles an full of logs—long, slender, barkless pine logs—and we leaned on pightgovDs the rails of the bridge and watched the men put them together into rafts. These rafts were of a shape and construction to suit the crookedness and extreme narrowness of the Neckar. They jath diy’ were from 50 to 100 yards long, and they gradually tapered from yag agails a 9-log breadth at their sterns, to a 8-log breadth at their bow- d get ot nd GOHiding ends. The main part of the steering is done at the bow, with a 60 A TRAMP ABRO.AD, pole ; the 8-log breadth there furnishes room for only the steers- e man, for these little logs are not larger around than an average pe) young lady’s waist. The connections of the several sections of qod the raft are slack and pliant, so that the raft may be readily bent o1 s [ into any sort of curve required by the shape of the river. el The Neckar is in many places so narrow that a person can o C1¢ al i throw a dog across it, if he has one; when it is also sharply it ho curved in such places, the raftsman has to do some pretty nice ad fove: snug piloting to make the turns. The river is not always allowed ark mOre to spread over its whole bed—which is as much as thirty, and ghapont sometimes forty yards wide—but is split into three equal bodies (ur pa of water, by stone dykes which throw the main volume, depth, and current, into the central one. In low water these neat nar- Tl gloox crtainty ¢ row-edged dykes project four or five inches above the surface, like the comb of a submerged roof, but in high water they are domof ¥ intolow- overflowed. A hatful of rain makes high water in the Neckar, and a basketful produces an overflow. matters; $orious § There are dykes abreast the Schloss Hotel, and the current is violently swift at that point. I used to sit for hours in my 10y-500, SpLl IS D6 glass cage, watching the long narrow rafts slip along through the s central channel, grazing the right-bank dyke, and aiming care- (rerme bt nobod fully for the middle arch of the stone bridge below; I watched them in this way, and lost all this time hoping to see one of pvssibilitii domn the them hit the bridge-pier and wreck itself sometime or other, but was always disappointed. One was smashed there one morning, motion; @lms do but I had just stepped into my room a moment to light a pipe, so I lost it. oy and vex While I was looking down upon the rafts that morning in Heilbronn, the dare-devil spirit of adventure came suddenly and egi upon me, and I said to my comrades— ecstasy, () ‘I am going to Heidelberg on a raft. Will you venture and dust with me ?’ tired ho Their faces paled a little, but they assented with as good a e grace as they could. Harris wanted to cable his mother—thought grant ba it his duty to do that, as he was all she had in this world—so, and gre while he attended to this, I went down to the longest and finest with thi raft and hailed the captain with a hearty ¢ Ahoy, shipmate!’ Somef which put us upon pleasant terms at once, and we entered upon f(fliage f business. I said we were on a pedestrian tour to Heidelberg, vih and would like to take passage with him. I said this partly !’ somefin through young Z., who spoke German very well, and partly alomg { through Mr. X., who spoke it peculiarly. I canunderstand Ger- fren o man as well as the maniac that invented it, but I ¢alk it bess théy A\( through an interpreter, tiver g Ity ‘\ 61 nly f A TRAMP ABROAD. 16 oo, a a"el‘ane then shifted his quid ‘ral ) The captain hitched up his_trousers, SECHOHS 0 Presently he said just what I w as expecting he 08 ey lly by thoughtfully. 8 riyg T, would say, th at he had no license to carry passengers, and there- b fore was afraid the law w ould be after him in case the matter got 3 A Perso (n So I chartered the raft noised about or any accident happened. 8 alsp g Ql‘p! ) and the crew, and took all the responsibili ties on myself. atch bent to their work "6 rety i VWith a rattling song the starboard w aays allypeg and hove the cable short, then g ot the anchor home, and our Bt Iy, a gtv)lnd and soon was bowling along bark moved off with a stately stride, ® tul .1"-0(1103 at about two knots an hour. At first the talk was a "'Olh | XD? erth, Qur party were grouped amidships. 4 DA little gloomy, and ran mainly upon the shortness of life, the un- the perils which beset it, and the need and wis- face certainty of if, o ey oy dom of being always pre pared for the worst; this shaded off e into low-voiced references to he dangers of the deep, and kindred Neckar dden, and the mys- matters; but as the grey east began to re nd cument el terious solemnity and silence of the d awn to give place to the ny joy-songs of the birds, the talk took a cheerier tone, and our 1 the 16 . spirits began to rise steadily. L 4 Carg Germany, in the sum mer, 1 s the perfection of the beautiful, W5 I watched but nobody has understood, and realised, and enjoyed the utmost aceful beauty unless he has voyaged 0 see one of possibilities of this soft and pe ¢ 0T Other b I down the Neckar on a raft. The motion of a raft is the needful > 00¢ mor motion ; it is gentle, and glid ing, and smooth, and noiseless; it calms down all feverish activities, it soothes to sleep all nervous 18 pipey 9 der its restful influence all the troubles hurry and impatience; un mo and vexations and sorrow s that harass the mind vanish away, charm, a deep and tranquil 16 Il (10 ] and existence becomes a dream, a ecstasy. How it contrasts with hot and perspiring pedestrianism nd tedious jolting behind I you venturs and dusty and deafening railroad rush, a tired horses over blinding white roads! along t=} , bety veen the green and fra- ith a5 good & We went slipping silently leasure and contentment that grew grant banks, with a sense of p ther—thought Sometimes the banks wer e overhung \ world—s, and grew all the time. with thick masses of willows th at wholly hid the ground behind ; and finest sometimes we had noble hills on one h and, clothed densely with he other hand open levels blazing 7, shipmate! foliage to their tops, an dont entered upon othe d in the rich blue of the corn-flower ; Heidelbery with poppies, or cl and sometimes sometimes we drifte d in the shadow of forests, this paty hes of velvety grass, fresh and along the margin of long strete eye. And the birds !— , and po green and br ight, a tireless charm to the k and forth across the v Jorstand Ger- where ; they swept bac they were every sic was I ever stilled. 19 river constantly, and their jubilant mu It was a deep and satisfying pleasur e to see the sun create the €2 A TRAMP ABROAD. fleking new morning, and gradually, patiently, lovingly, clothe it on with 00k splendour after splendour, and glory after glory, till the miracle ) was complete. il 0 f How different is this marvel observed from a raft,’ from what it is when one observes it through the dingy e Jac I . windows of a railway station in some wretched village, while he he PTUI.’} munches a petrified sandwich and waits for the train. ol ¥ umrouble s 4 e e ity i CHAPTER XYV. most 18 i DOWN THE RIVER, fre h e Bl o too Mex and women and cattle were at work in the dewy fields by fhe cager Towe this time. The people often stepped aboard the raft, as we glided Sl along the grassy shores, and gossiped with us and with the crew Ay the ride. for a hundred yards or so, then stepped ashore again, refreshed by Th Only the men did this, the women were too busy. The women do all kinds of work on the Continent, o " They dig, they hoe, they reap, they sow, they bear monstrous burdens on their backs, they bui ALl and shove similar ones long distances on wheelbarrows, they drag the cart when there is no dog or lean cow to drag it, and when there 10 is, they assist the dog or cow. Age is no matter: the older the r eI woman, the stronger she is, apparently. On the farm a woman’s duties are not defined, she does a little of everything ; but in the il o (l then Infched towns it is different, there she only does certain things, the men do the rest. For instance, an hotel chambermaid has nothing to e me do but make beds and fires in fifty or sixty rooms, bring towels bardly and candles, and fetch several tons of water up several flights ot gunding stairs, 2 hundred pounds at a time, in prodigious metal pitchers. impulse She does not have to work more than eighteen or tw enty hours a propelle day, and she can always get down on her knees and -scrub chain 13 rest. the floors of halls and closets when she is tired and needs a 0 nds oy, As the morning advanced and the weather grew hot, we took fhat off our outside clothing, and sat in a row along the edge of the Teihey | raft and enjoyed the scenery, with our sun umbrellas over our ladedy heads and our legs dangling in the water. Every now and then Uses g we plunged in and had a swim. Every projecting grassy cape enabl | had its joyous group of naked ch ildren, the boys to themselves in st and the girls to themselves, the 1 atter usually in care of some Eleye motherly dame who sat in the shad e of a tree with her knitting. 00¢, g The little boys swam out to us sometimes, but the little maids Which —— & — T stood knee-deep in the water, and stopped their splashing and. A TRAMP ABROAD. 63 thy 1t UL the O ify frolicking to inspect the raft with their innocent eyes as it drifted izge) MIved I0m by. Once we turned a corner suddenly, and surprised a slender 10} i 8 dipg girl of twelve years or upwards, just stepping into the water. She had not time to run, but she did what answered just as well; ) Whil b she promptly drew alithe young willow bough athwart her white body with one hand, and then contemplated us with a simple and untroubled interest. Thus she stood while we glided by. She X was a pretty creature, and she and her willow bough made a very pretty picture, and one which could not offend the modesty of the Her white skin had a low bank of L most fastidious spectator. fresh green willows for background and effective contrast—for s she stood against them—and above and out of them projected by the eager faces and white shoulders of two smaller girls. z;“wl Towards noon we heard the inspiriting cry— W ¢Sail ho !’ L1 ) ¢ Where away?’ shouted the captain, ¢ Three points off the weather bow ! 2 . The wone ‘We ran forward to see the vessel: It proved to be a steams [}iéy hogl‘ they boat—for they had begun to run a steamer up the Neckar, for She was a tug, and one of very peculiar i backs, they the first time in May. they dong the build and aspect. I had often watched her from the hotel, and 1d when there wondered how she propelled herself, for apparently she had no the older the propeller or paddles. She came churning along, now, making a deal T 4 Woman's of noise of one kind and another, and aggravating it every now and then by blowing a hoarse whistle. She had nine keel-boats g4 but in the )fl 6 1N hitched on behind and following after her in a long, slender rank. 1( o We met her in a narrow place, between dykes, and there was As she went ng towe hardly room for us both in the cramped passage. 1 s 0f grinding and groaning by, we perceived the secret of her moving impulse. She did not drive herself up the river with paddles or lp ) Yl‘ Iy 1110111‘5 ) propeller, she pulled herself by hauling on a great chain. This eg and ‘U chain is laid in the bed of the river, and is only fastened at the two ends. It is seventy miles long. It comes in over the boat’s and needs & bow, passes around a drum, and is paid out astern. She pulls on that chain, and so drags herself up the river or down it. She has Tot, e took neither bow nor stern, strictly speaking, for she has a long- edge of the -~ bladed rudder on each end,and she never turns around. She Jag over oUF uses both rudders all the time, and they are powerful enough to o and then enable her to turn to the right or the left, and steer arqund curves grassy AP in spite of the strong resistance of the chain. I would not have themselies believed that that impossible thing could be done; but I saw it care of SO done, and therefore I know that there is one impossible thing her kuitg which can be done. What miracle will man attempt next? Jitle mai® We met many big keel boats on their way up, using sails, plshing & 64 A TRAMP ABROAD: pnifil mule power, and profanity—a tedious and laborious business. A times wire rope led from the foretop mast to the file of mules on the richand ! tow-path a hundred yards ahead, and by dint of much banging chenfeld and swearing and urging, the detachment of drivers managed to TomAncey get a speed of two or three miles an hour out of the mules against pafive £ the stiff current. The Neckar has always been used as a canal, fhe von and thus has given employment to a great many men and animals; donjon but now that this steamship is able, with a small crew and a bushel place, &0 or so of coal, to take nine keel boats farther up the river in one o hushar hour than thirty men and thirty mules can do it in two, it is visied b believed that the old-fashioned towing industry is on its death- ont ffe bed. A second steamboat began work in the Neckar three months who was! after the first one was put in service. would en Atnoon we stepped ashore and bought some bottled beer, and tormy 1 got some chickens cooked while the raft waited; then we im- sef in | mediately put to sea again, and had our dinner while the beer was cold and the chickens hot. There is no pleasanter place for countty by, and such a meal than a raft that is gliding down the winding Neckar, R ture hin past green meadows and wooded hills, and slumbering villages, yetLin and craggy heights graced with crumbling towers and battlements. might o In one place we saw a nicely dressed German gentleman with- forsok { out any spectacles. Before I could come to anchor he had got away. Pleasin It was a great pity. I so wanted to make a sketch of him. The < delivern captain comforted me for my loss, however, by saying that the Now man was without any doubt a fraud who had spectacles, but kept mouth ¢ them in his pocket in order to make himself conspicuous. ballady Below Hassmersheim we passed Hornberg, Gétz von Berlich- came o ingen’s old castle. It stands on a bold elevation 200 feet above the surface of the river; it has high vine-clad walls inclosing ghost th hallad | trees, and a peaked tower about 75 fect high. The steep hillside, from the castle clear down to the water’s edge, is terraced and therefo and fnd clothed-thick with grape vines. This is like farming a mansard roof. All the steeps along that part of the river which furnish the sorel Wag i proper exposure, are given up to the grape. That region is a great producer of Rhine wines. The Germans are exceedingly fond anjong y of Rhine wines; they are put up in tall, slender bottles, and are every o of that i considered a pleasant beverage. One tells them from vinegar by the label. {0 cayg r day e, The Hornberg hill is to be tunnelled, and the new railway will pass under the castle. Bug mogth ) & THE CAVE OF THE SPECTRE, : Ivg [ Two miles below Hornberg castle is a cave in a low cliff Ph”lflwg which the captain of the raft said had once been occupied by 4 | i, | A4 TRAMP ABROAD. e g i beautiful heiress of ITornbere—t =] he Lady Gertrude—in the old G iy times. It was seven hundred years ago. She had a number of Mg rich and noble lovers and one poor and obscure one, Sir Wendel ~ Uesagaing Lebenfeld. With the native chuckleheadedness of the heroine of 83 gy ) romance, she preferred the poor and obscure lover. With the M i native sound judgment of the father of a heroine of romance, w abughg] the von Berlichingen of that day shut his daughter up in his 176 in donjon keep, or his oubliette, or his culverine, or some such D o, it fy place, and resolved that she should stay there until she selected L1t e a_husband from among her rich and noble lovers. The latter ee oyl visited her and persecuted her with their supplications, but with- out effect, for her heart was true to her poor despised Crusader, A e, and who was fighting in the Holy Land. Finally she resolveq that she IED Y iy would endure the attentions of the rich lovers no longer; so one e the heey stormy night she escaped and went down the river and hid her- self in the cave on the other side. Her father ransacked the i aee 10 CK country for her, but found not a trace of her. As the days went ne by, and still no tidings of her came, his conscience began to tor- )&hlafie N ture him, and he caused proclamation to be made that if she were eman with. yet living and would return, he would oppose her no longer, she might marry whom she would. The months dragged on, all hope d gotaay. him, The forsook the old man, he ceased from his customary pursuits and pleasures, he devoted himself to pious works, and longed for the g that the deliverance of death. Now just at midnight, every night, the lost heiress stood in the 5, Eur kept mouth of her cave, arrayed in white robes, and sang a little love 0n 1l 1¢¢ b 40076 ballad which her Crusader had made for her. She judged that if he came home alive the superstitious peasants would tell him about the i ghost that sang in the cave, and that as soon as they described the Jsde ballad he would know that none but he and she knew that song, El‘l‘flCEd :w therefore he would suspect that she was alive, and would come 3 mansid and find her. As time went on, the people of the region became furnish the sorely distressed about the Spectre of the Haunted Cave. It nis agrent was said that ill-luck of one kind or another always overtook anyone who had the misfortune to hear that song. ingly fon Eventually, g5, and are every calamity that happened thereabouts was laid at the door yinegar of that music. Consequently no boatman would consent to pass the cave at night ; the peasants shunned the place, even in the daytime. oy Tallnay But the faithful girl sang on, night after night, month after month, and patiently waited; her reward must come at last. Five years dragged by, and still, every night at midnight, the plaintive tones floated out over the silent land, while the distant : ]OW C]ifl; ¥ [Pied b)v 4 66 A TRAMP ABROAD. boatmen and peasants thrust their fingers into their ears and shuddered out a prayer. And now came the Crusader home, bronzed and battle- scarred, but bringing a great and splendid fame to lay at the feet A of his bride. The old lord of Hornberg received him as a son, and wanted him to stay by him and be the comfort and blessing s g1 of his age; but the tale of that young girl’s devotion to him Rine, There and its pathetic consequences made a changed man of the knight. (Germany 18 He could not enjoy his well-earned rest. He said his heart was erenl o {hem broken, he would give the remnant of his life to high deeds in the peopfe’s 1’avm} the cause of humanity, and so find a worthy death and a blessed reunion with the brave true heart whose love had more honoured by it begad fota him than all his victories in war. e well. Tt s mot o When the people heard this resolve of his they came and told old e e him there was a pitiless dragon in human disguise in the Haunted Cave, a dread creature which no knight had yet been bold is eridence t':mg Tikerse there enough to face, and begged him to rid the land of its desolating words and e presence. He said he would do it. They told him about the song, and when he asked what song it was, they said the memory rear’s memor Javeit by men of it was gone, for nobody had been hardy enough to listen to it for the past four years and more. by the il Towards midnight the Crusader came floating down the river Jegnd parly fo He drifted read it before, in a boat, with his trusty cross-bow in his hands. silently through the dim reflections of the crags and trees, with his intent eyes fixed upon the low cliff which he was approaching. As he drew nearer he discerned the black mouth of the cave. Tore fwo g o high ock el Now,—is that a white figure? Yes. The plaintive song begins the Rbing, and to well forth and float away over meadow and river,—the cross- Which mared bow is slowly raised to position, a steady aim is taken, the bolt with her iy flies straight to the mark, the figure sinks down, still singing, the knight takes the wool out of his ears, and recognises the old 0t enryting el amog ballad,—too late ! Ab, if he had only not put the wool in his Inthoe old, ears! The Crusader went away to the wars again, and presently et g i | Hema 1y ! fell in battle, fighting for the Cross. Tradition says that during ld fy 7 filley several centuries the spirit of the unfortunate girl sang nightly from the cave at midnight, but the music carried no curse with Jersenbe, g, £ Sy i it; and although many listened for the mysterious sounds few i IDg’mg’ % were favoured, since only those could hear them who had Gay never failed in a trust. It is believed that the singing still con- eD)"Ihere ]]OY ‘ Weliale] o, tinues, but it is known that nobody has heard it during the present century. {ia e i ‘AD uflifltenfi' I ;lZ b fafl) g 13 ang A TRAMP ABROAD. 67 batfle the fot CHAPTER XVI. 8 4 son, Ly \ I it AN ANCIENT LEGEND OF THE RHINE, I 10 hipy & knilt, Tue last legend reminds one of the ‘TLorelei’—a legend of the et wog Rhine. There is a song called ¢ The Lorelei.’ A Germany is rich in folk-songs, and the words and airs of deeds fn 4 blessed several ot them are peculiarly beautiful—but ¢ The Lorelei’ is honoured the people’s favourite. I coiild not endure it at first, but by-and- by it began to take hold of me, and now there is no tune which I like so well. and told ¢ Haunted It is not possible that it is much known in America, else I been hold should have heard it there. The fact that I never heard it there is evidence that there are others in my country who have fared desolating about the likewise ; therefore, for the sake of these, I mean to print the words and the music in this chapter. And I will refresh the le memory reader’s memory by printing the legend of the Lorelei too. I Isten fo 1t bave it by me in the ¢ Legends of the Rhine,’ done into English ) theriver by the wildly gifted Garnham, Bachelor of Arts. I print the legend partly to refresh my own memory, too, for I have never Te drifted read it before. rees, With THE LEGEND, preaching, the cave, Lore (two syllables) was a water nymph who used to sit on ong begins a high rock called Ley or Lei (pronounced like our word Ze) in —the Cro8- — the Rhine, and lure boatmen to destruction in a furious rapid She so bewitched them N, fhe balt which marred the channel at that spot. iging, the with her plaintive songs and her wonderful beauty, that they for- got everything else to gaze up at her, and so they presently o5 the old rool in his drifted among the broken reefs and were lost. In those old, old times the Count Bruno lived in a great castle near there with his son the Count Hermann, a youth of twenty. [ presemly Hermann had heard a great deal about the beautiful Lore, and hat during had finally fallen very deeply in love with her without having g nighly yet seen her. So he used to wander to the neighbourhood of the e Vi Lei, evenings, with his zither and ¢ Express his Longing in low ounds fe On one of these occasions, ‘sud- who ha Singing,” as Garnham says. still con denly there hovered around the top of the rock a brightness of — unequalled clearness and colour, which, in increasing smaller Jring 1€ circles thickened, was the enchanting figure of the beautiful Lore. ¢ An unintentional cry of Joy escaped the Youth, he let his Zither fall, and with extended arms he called out the name of F 2 68 A TRAMP ABROAD. 1% thie cnigmatical Being, who seemed to stoop lovingly to him and ot beckon to him in a friendly manner ; indeed, if his ear did not de- fhe [¢ ceive him, she called his name with unutterable sweet Whispers, beckou proper to love. Beside himself with delight, the youth lost his fafu e Senses and sank senseless to the earth.’ fo her After that he was a changed person. He went dreaming upset, about, thinking only of his fairy and caring for nought else ad ] in the world. ¢ The old Count saw with afiliction this change- oy youth ment in his son,” whose cause he could not divine, and tried to byap divert his mind into cheerful channels, but to no purpose. Then Th the old Count used authority. He commanded the youth to be- any take himself to the camp. Obedience was promised. Garnham e 10 Bays : moved ¢ It was on the evening before his departure, as he wished still deelt once to visit the Lei and offer to the Nymph of the Rhine his T Sighs, the tones of hig Zither, and his Songs. He went, in his have boat, this time accompanied by a faithful squire, down the stream. The moon shed her silvery light over the whole of gr the ls Country ; the steep bank mountains appeared in the most fan- echoin tastical shapes, and the high oaks on either side bowed their sng f Branches on Hermann’s passing. As soon as he approached the on fhe Lei, and was aware of the surf-waves, his attendant was seized i with an inexpressible Anxiety, and he begged permission to land ; Thiss but the Knight swept the strings of his Guitar and sang : will ¢ Once I saw thee in dark night, Il In supernatural Beauty bright ; Jang Of Light-rays was the Figure wove, thea | To share its light, locked-hair strove. me g1 ¢Thy Garment colour wave-dove, i for m By thy hand the sign of love, If Thy eyes’ sweet enchantment, o e, Raying to me, oh! entrancement, lat ation ¢ Oh, wert thou but my sweetheart, ! ¥ I How willingly thy love to part ! Germg With delight I should be bound To thy rocky house in deep ground.’ an ge and kn 0 anof That Hermann should have gone to that place at all, was not wise; that he should have gone with such a song as that in his mouth was a most serious mistake. The Lorelei did not ¢call his name in unutterable sweet Whispers’ this time. No, that song naturally worked an instant and thorough ¢ changement’ in her; and not only that, but it stirred the bowels of the whole afflicted region round about there—for A TRAMP ABROAD. 69 to ]]im ani ¢ Scarcely had these tones sounded, everywhere there began 7 d‘d lof dg_ tumult and sound, as if voices above and below the water. On 4§ Whi Spers, - Outh loge I 1§ the Lei rose flames, the Fairy stood above, as that time, and beckoned with her right hand clearly and urgently to the in- fatuated Knight, while with a staff in her left she called the waves It dreyyy to her service. They began to mount heavenward ; the boat was gl gy upset, mocking every exertion; the waves rose to the gunwale, thig Changg. The - and splitting on the hard stones, the Boat broke into Pieces. and tri'y, o youth sank into the depths, but the squire was thrown on shore pose, They s by a powerful wave.’ JOutt ty b The bitterest things have been said about the Lorelei during . Garnhgy many centuries, but surely her conduct upon this occasion entitles her to our respect. One feels drawn tenderly toward her and is Wished ] moved to forget her many crimes and remember only the good 16 Rhine bs deed that crowned and closed her career. ment, i bis ¢ The Fairy was never more seen; but her enchanting tones ¢, down the have often been heard. In the beautiful, refreshing, still nights r the wholg of spring, when the moon pours her silver light over the Country, be mogt fan. the listening shipper hears from the rushing of the waves, the bowed their echoing Clang of a wonderfully charming voice, which sings a proached the song from the crystal castle, and with sorrow and fear he thinks bwas seized on the young Count Hermann, seduced by the Nymph.’ nioland; Here is the music and the German words by Heinrich Heine. This song has been a favourite in Germany for forty years, and g will remain a favourite always, maybe. I have a prejudice against people who print things in a foreign Janguage and add no translation. When I am the reader, and the author considers me able to do the translating myself, he pays me quite a nice compliment—but if he would do the translating for me I would try to get along without the compliment. If I were at home, no doubt I could get a translation of this poem, but I am abroad and can’t ; therefore I will make a trans- lation myself. It may not be a good one, for poetry is out of my line, but it will serve my purpose—which is, to give the un- German young girl a jingle of words to hang the tune on until she can get hold of a good version, made by some one who is a poet and knows how to convey a poetical thought from one language to anotlier, ol was ot ' o that in D 106 icau hi! o, that 5078 ot 0 D3 hole officted LORELEI Andante, ] 1 ] __"_— N | | 65T — e Any f !“- fo} e == = 15 — - —_o—L (I —— b» 1. Ich weiss nicht, was soll es be - deu - ten, dass ich 80 trau - rig bifi; em schon - ste Jung - frau sit - zet dort o - ben wun - der - bar, 2. Die Schif - fe wil - dem Weh: er 3. Den Schif -fer im klei - nen er-greift es mit ] _—\—-—-’\ T 576} _:1_ ) | = o ‘E 4-; :_ ) 3 1 ] =t A\SV4 =L = i_ L — a____f & — L___a_l —— @ -&- - —i- 2l o~ B i .—;: 4 _' & / Al P:% 5 i + = 5 e AN g ! éj ir . 2 g i T E=l; - (] -d. 1) i, HE —o — — |9 N 1— © | —— __i._._ e o 5— t = I! e & = - - das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn, Die Mir - chen aus al ten Zei - ten, Haar, Sie old - nes Ge - schmeide blit zet, sie kimmtb ihr gol - de - nes Hoh. Ich schautnichtdie Fel - sen - rif - fe, er schaut nurhin-auf in die A il —rIF Vfl——’fl: -LZ,.._I_ g-?_‘__|____,.‘—-‘ E \& = —L ™ o F— -@- = - ; -- Z % - i 2 o .- i D\ 1 7 ) = =l i i = 4 |=L :# vj — .a'_. - = & v = @ BRI _e B —_ = ==—— —— - =) = —_ e Ifit = [ —m E ——————— L o R e nigs € A T h ns Aex . —— =] = - -1 o === e o == — - — e S = ——— - <= = :il === = = = —==FF = - = — p——————w [Nt = Lo @ e —— i —1——:&—4 i - PQ ® o—| sy i i :\; __"_‘__fi Luft ist kiithl und es dun kelt, und ru - hig fliesst der Rhein; der 2. kiimmt es mit gol - de-nem Kam me, und singt ein Lied da - bei das gen am En - de Schif-fer und Kahn; und 3. glau - be, die Wel len ver -schlin E ] —F = —_ [ 74RY 1 ) + 1 Ee - & S | . = Fe o -O- @- 8 o e - .o ——n e -@- | -@- ) = ‘vj @3 = ! ;L 5 = E Gi E ) =l[ | - 1z Zl~ cres. NR o= o i —eo——po i —@-o- — p__':,;z*l—— o—~——p e S LV T — __4P_j__ fi——fl——p‘ F e f i@ = i §|4 | 3| 0= Gi - pfel des Ber - ges fun - kelt A - bend son nen - schein, hat el ne s wun: s der - sa = me ge - wal = ti ge Me lo - dei - rem Sin = die Lo - re - lei ge - than, das hat mit ih gen A= i m———— —— = | —— [Emal i C H i = _H_, a_L - ‘; 4 — z + -@- & o -or —i= _df'a‘ - =L~k 4 -- -&- -- cres. - -@- D) Eqm = "‘3!5 = =E i HE - K F - ; - fi b 72 A TRAMP ABROAD. THE LORELEIL I cannot divine what it meaneth, This haunting nameless pain: A tale of the bygone ages Keeps brooding through my braing The faint air cools in the gloaming, And peaceful flows the Rhine, The thirsty summits are drinking The sunset’s flooding wine ; e The loveliest maiden is sitting High-throned in yon blue air, Her golden jewels are shining, She combs her golden hair; She combs with a comb that is golden, And sings a weird refrain That steeps in a deadly enchantment o The listener’s ravished brain : The doomed in his drifting shallop, audAin Jtisas Is tranced with the sad sweet tone, He sees not the yawning breakers, fo be; He sees but the maid alone : antsi The pitiless billows engulf him !— fo the So perish sailor and bark ; clinging And this, with her baleful singing, L = a Dise Is the Lorelei’s gruesome work. dred o I have a translation by Garnham, Bachelor of Arts, in the ¢Legend of the Rhine,” but it would not answer the purpose I il @e N mentioned above, because the measure is too nobly irregular; it Bven! don’t fit the tune snugly enough; in places it hangs over at the him ends too far, and in other places one runs out of words before he entitl gets to the end of a bar. ~Still, Garnham’s translation has high Was merits, and I am not dreaming of leaving it out of my book. I Extra believe this poet is wholly unknown in America and England ; I I take peculiar pleasure in bringing him forward because I con- sider that I discovered him : L whli LU ofit! THE LORELEI ‘A Translated by L. W. Garnkam, B.4. group I do not know what it signifies frave That I am so sorrowful : (] A fable of old times so terrifies, book Leaves my heart so thoughtful. (g The air is cool and it darkens, fulf] And calmly flows the Rhine; ‘ The summit of the mountain hearkens 1n evening sunshine line. thoug Lare A TRAMP ABROAD. 73 The most beautiful Maiden entranccs Above wonderfully-there, Ier beautiful golden attire glances, She combs her golden hair. With golden comb so lustrous, And thereby a song sings, It has a tone so wondrous, That powerful melody rings. The shipper in the little ship It affets with woe’s sad might ; e does not see the rocky clip, e only regards dreaded height. I believe the turbulent waves Swallow at last shipper and Loat ; She with her singing craves All to visit her magic moat. He has got in all the facts; No translation could be closer. and in their regular order too. There is not a statistic wanting. Tt is as succinct as an invoice. That is what a translation ought to be; it should exactly reflect the thought of the original. You can’t sing ¢ Above wonderfully there,’ because it simply won’t go to the tune, without damaging the singer; but it is a most clingingly exact translation of Dort oben wunderbar—fits it like a blister. Mr. Garnham’s reproduction has other merits—a hun- dred of them—Dbut it is not necessary to point them out. They I‘ ;\Tt?, i fllfl will be detected. the purpose ] No one with a specialty can hope to have a monopoly of it. imegular; i Even Garnham has a rival. Mr. X. had a small pamphlet with g3 over af {he It was him which he had bought while on a visit to Munich. onds before be entitled ¢ A Catalogue of Pictures in the Old Pinacotek,” and fion bas bigh was written in a peculiar kind of English. Here are a few " my book. [ extracts: nd Bnglaud; ¢It is not permitted to make use of the work in question to a ecause cone publication of the same contents as well as to the pirated edition of it. In the foreground near a pond and a ¢ An evening landscape. group of white beeches is leading a footpath animated by travellers.’ ¢ A learned man in a cynical and torn dress holding an open book in his hand.’ ¢St. Bartholomew and the Executioner with the knife to fulfil the martyr.’ A long while this picture was ¢ Portrait of a young man. thought to be Bindi Altoviti’s portrait; now somebody will agair have it to be the self-portrait of Raphael.’ 74 A TRAMP ABROAD. ¢Susan bathing, surprised by the two old inen. In the background the lapidation of the condemned.’ (‘Lapidation” is good; it is much more elegant than The ¢ stoning.’) SfiCk) E ¢ St. Rochus sitting in a landscape with an angel who looks at preatl his plague-sore, whilst the dog the bread in his mouth attents roubl him.’ and b ¢ Spring. The Goddess Flora, sitting. Behind her a fertile His b valley perfused by a river.’ red ¢ A beautiful bouquet animated by May-bugs, &ec.’ ceedin ¢ A warrior in armour with a gypseous pipe in his hand fhe us leans against the table and blows the smoke far away of himself. flny o1 of dan ¢ A Dutch landscape along a navigable river which perfuses dangh it till to the background.’ ) ¢ Some peasants singing in a cottage. A woman lets drink a fhe & child out of a cup.’ ofhe, ¢ St. John'’s head as a boy—painted in fresco on a brick. pI’OCE’E (Meaning a tile.) even ¢ A young man of the Riccio family, his hair cut off right at the end, dressed in black with the same cap. Attributed to ot aphael, but the signation is false.’ A afin ¢ The Virgin holding the Infant. Is very painted in the man- ner of Sassoferrato.’ obje ¢ A Larder with greens and dead game animated by a cook- his st maid and two kitchen-boys.’ turme he w ¢ However, the English of this catalogue is at least as happy stilli as that which distinguishes an inscription upon a certain picture in Rome—to wit : him { ¢ Revelations-View. St. John in Patterson’s Island.’ his i warl But meantime the raft is moving on, B of e CHAPTER XVII, Tufl Do A MiLE or two above Eberbach we saw a peculiar ruin projecting other, above the foliage which clothed the peak of a high and very o steep hill. This ruin consisted of merely a couple of crumbling i | ) masses of masonry which bore a rude resemblance to human SGienc faces; they leaned forward and touched foreheads, and had the gave look of being absorbed in conversation. This ruin had nothing very imposing or picturesque about it, and there was no great e o deal of if, yet it was called the ¢ Spectacular Ruin.’ i By A TRAMP ABROAD. I the LEGEND OF THE ‘SPECTACULAR RUIN. legaflt thay The captain of the raft, who was as full of history as he could WhO ]qgks a stick, said that in the Middle Ages a most prodigious fire- Mth ity breathing dragon used to live in that region, and made more trouble than a tax collector. He was as long as a railway train, her ferly and had the customary impenetrable green scales all over him. cl His breath bred pestilence and conflagration, and his appetite bred famine. He ate men and cattle impartially, and was ex- by g ceedingly unpopular. The German emperor of that day made T avay of the usual offer ; he would grant to the destroyer of the dragon any one solitary thing he might ask for; for he had a surplusage i perfgg of daughters, and it was customary for dragon-killers to take a daughter for pay. |1y drink So the most renowned knights came from the four corners of the earth and retired down the dragon’s throat one after the on 8 brick! other. A panic arose and spread. Heroes grew cautious. The procession ceased. The dragon became more destructive than off night af ever. The people lost all hope of succour, and fled to the ttributed to mountains for refuge. At last, Sir Wissenschaft, a poor and obscure knight, out of | n the mane a far country, arrived to do battle with the monster. A pitiable object he was, with his armour hanging in rags about him, and ] by a cooke his strange-shaped knapsack strapped upon hisback. Everybody But turned up their noses at him, and some openly jeered him. v he was calm. Hesimply inquired if the emperor’s offer was east a3 1o 40} rtail pieturs still in force. The emperor said it was—but charitably advised him to go and hunt hares, and not endanger so precious a life as his in an attempt which had brought death to so many of the and world’s most illustrious heroes. But this tramp only asked—¢ Were any of these heroes men of science ?’ This raised a laugh, of course, for science was despised in those days. But the tramp was not in the least ruffled. e said he might be a little in advance of his age, but no matter—science would come to be honoured, some time or other. He said he would march against the dragon in the 1 projecting morning. Out of compassion, then, a decent spear was offered fh and 1) him, but he declined, and said, ¢ spears were useless to men of f erumblng science.” They allowed him to sup in the gervants’ hall, and o fo humal and ad the gave him a bed in the stables. When he started forth in the morning, thousands wers fad nothing gathered to see. The emperor said— a5 00 G0 ¢Do not be rash, take a spear, and leave off your knapsack.’ But the tramp said— A TRAMP ABROAD. dtmob ¢TIt is not a knapsack,” and moved straight on. The dragon was waiting and ready. He was breathing forth it 1) jofures vast volumes of sulphurous smoke and lurid blasts of flame. it The ragged knight stole warily to a good position, then he un- legelld., | slung his cylindrical knapsack—which was simply the common ] doub fire-extinguisher known to modern times—and the first chance he got he turned on his hose and shot the dragon square in the Alo centre of his cavernous mouth. lastin Out went the fires in an instant, and the dragon curled up and died. vy He had reared Ase This man had brought brains to his aid. shout T dragons from the ego, in his labor {ela}) atory ; he had watched over them like a mother, and patiently studied them and experimented ety W Thus he had found out that fire anh upon them while they grew. was the life principle of a dragon; put out the dragon’s fires scatier He could and it could make steam no longer, and must die. jou WO not put out a fire with a spear, therefore he invented the extin- whent Jimited guisher. The dragon being dead, the emperor fell on the hero’s all neck and said— d ¢ Deliverer, name your request, at the same time beckoning For Tl s out behind with his heel for a detachment of his daughters to form and advance. But the tramp gave them no observance. (il [1C nex He simply said— ¢ My request is, that upon me be conferred the monopoly of R’O 80 the manufacture and sale of spectacles in Germany.’ wulrd The emperor sprang aside, and exclaimed— the ¢ This transcends all the impudence I ever heard! A modest and an o us, demand, by my halidome ! Why didn’t you ask for the imperial revenues at once, and be done with it?”’ i To certaln But the monarch had given his word, and he kept it. everybody’s surprise, the unselfish monopolist immediately re- eVer § duced the price of spectacles to such a degree that a great and Ianne crushing burden was removed from the nation. The emperor, 6\'(?[’? ‘ to commemorate this generous act, and to testify his apprecia- ety tion of it, issued a decree commanding everybody to buy this 0”‘3 benefactor’s spectacles and wear them, whether they needed them While, or not. Was ng So originated the widespread custom of wearing spectacles in of the Germany ; and as a custom once established in these old lands of fhe ] is imperishable, this one remains universal in the empire to this Woulg day. Such is the legend of the monopolist’s once stately and about sumptuous castle, now called the ¢ Spectacular Ruin.’ On the right bank, two or three miles below the Spectacular Ruin, we passed by a noble pile of castellated buildings over- S looking the water from the crest of a lofty elevation. A stretch 1\0} A TRAMP ABROAD. 77 ‘eathing forth of two hundred yards of the high front wall was heavily draped N of with ivy, and out of the mass of buildings within rose three | flamg, ) El&n he . picturesque old towers. The place was in fine order, and was the 0 gy inhabited by a family of princely rank. This castle had its ¢ Ing Changg legend, too, but I should not feel justified in repeating it, because Huarg in flg I doubted the truth of some of its minor details. Along in this region a multitude of Italian labourers were Wiy blasting away the frontage of the hills to make room for the new railway. They were fifty or a hundred feet above the river. e bad ey ""dtched over As we turned a sharp corner they began to wave signals and shout warnings to us to look out for the explosions. It was all EXDerimente very well to warn us, but what could we do? You can’t back 00t that i a raft up stream, you can’t hurry it down stream, you can’t Uagons fe scatter out to one side when you haven’t any room to speak of, . He ooyl ted the iy you won’t take to the perpendicular cliffs on the other shore when they appear to be blasting there too. Your resources are on the ey limited, you see. There is simply nothing for it but to watch and pray. e befkoning For some hours we had been making three and a half or four daughters to We had been miles an hour, and we were still making that. 0 Observance, dancing right along until these men began to shous, then for the next ten minutes it seemed to me that I had never seen a raft ) imonopoly of go so slowly. When the first blast went off we raised our sun- umbrellas and waited for the resuls. No harm done; none of the stones fell in the water. Another blast followed, and another, 4! A modet and another. Some of the rubbish fell in the water just astern of us. r theimperid ‘We ran that whole battery of nine blasts in a row, and it was kept it To certainly one of the most exciting and uncomfortable weeks I mediately - ever spent, either aship or ashore. Of course we frequently manned the poles and shoved earnestly for a second or so, but fa greak and The emperc, every time one of those spurts of dust and débris shot aloft every man dropped his pole and looked up to get the bearings i appreci of his share of it. to buy this It was very busy times along there for a needed them while. It appeared certain that we must perish, but even that was not the bitterest thought; no, the abjectly unheroic nature of the death—that was the sting—that and the bizarre wording spectacles in of the resulting obituary—¢ Shot with a rock on a raft’ There o ol lnds None could be written ire to (8 would be no poetry written about it. about it. Example :— , stately a1 ) Net by war's shock, or war’s shaft— Shot, with a rock, on a raft. pecacult > Jigs 0" No poet who valued his reputation would touch such a theme A et 78 A TRAMP ABROAD. as that. I should be distinguished as the only ¢distinguished o 1T dead’ who went down to the grave unsonnetted in 1878. Ay But we escaped, and I have never regretted it. The last tm blast was a peculiarly strong one, and after the small rubbish iSh was done raining around us and we were just going to shake hands over our deliverance, a later and larger stone came down falf s iTe amongst our little group of pedestrians and wrecked an umbrella. It did no other harm, but we took to the water just the same. lA) It seems that the heavy work in the quarries and the new ‘FC aond ] railway gradings is done mainly by Italians. That was a revelation. We have the notion in our country that Italians (A) The nover do heavy work at all, but confine themselves to the lighter o, shontn arts, like organ-grinding, operatic singin o) and assassination. ‘We have blundered, that is plain. aud la gt 18 Bu ation wind ¢ All along the river, near every village, we saw litt houses for the future railway. They were finished and waiting TUnNiE for the rails and business. They were as trim and snug and the f fo the pretty as they could be. They were always of brick or stone; they were of graceful shape; they had vines and flowers about ‘P them already, and around them the grass was bright and green, 'H ] il and showed that it was carefully looked after. They were a decoration to the beautiful landscape, not an offence. Where- N know, ever one saw a pile of gravel or a pile of broken stone, it was always heaped as trimly and exactly as a new grave or a stack and st of cannon-balls; nothing about those stations, or along the Gentl this | railroad or the waggon road wasallowed to look shabby or be un- ornamental. The keeping a country in such beautiful order as yourl P ( Germany exhibits, has a wise practical side to it, too, for it keeps thousands of people in work and bread who would other- and {} wise be idle and mischievous. « forma at seg- As the night shut down, the captain wanted to tie up, but I thought maybe we might make IHirschhorn, so we went on. {L Presently the sky became overcast, and the captain came aft T looking uneasy. He cast his eye aloft, then shook his head, and g said it was coming on to blow. My party wanted to land at 0 yag once, therefore I wanted to go on. The captain said we ought hn to shorten sail, anyway, out of common prudence. Consequently ‘B the larboard watch was ordered to lay in his pole. It grew {b il quite dark now, and the wind began to rise. 0 It wailed through the swaying branches of the trees and swept our decks in fitful L gusts. Things were taking on an ugly look. The captain shouted bl to the steersman on the forward log— -~ femify ¢ How’s she heading ?’ S The answer came faint and hoarse from far forward s Ul : A TRAMP ABROAD. 79 dlbt m"Ul“h ? ¢ Nor’-east-and-by-nor'—east-by-east, half-east, sir.’ b The g ¢Let her go off a point !’ ¢ Ay-aye, sir |’ el Tubhigy ¢ What water have you got?’ J0lny 0 <ha\ e g g, i ¢ Shoal, sir. Two foot large, on the stabboard, two and a half scant on the labboard !’ d Wyl i ¢ Let her go off another point !’ e sy " Sand the g, ¢ Ay-aye, sir!’ ¢ Forward, men, all of you! Tjively, now ! Stand by to it g crowd her round the weather corner!’ Tialing y tha}t liktr ¢ Ay-aye, sir !’ Then followed a wild running and trampling and hoarse 0) shouting, but the forms of the men were lost in the darkness, and the sounds were distorted and confused by the roaring of the v il s*gt’{m wind through the shingle-bundles. By this time the sea was Al running inches high, and threatening every moment to engulf | 4l and br 10K or stone the frail bark. Now came the mate hurrying aft, and said, close to the captain’s ear, in a low, agitated voice— ; flowers a‘/ 5‘ 1‘ ¢ Prepare for the worst, sir-—we have sprung a leak.’ fand grem, ¢Heavens ! where?’ They were o ¢Right aft the second row of logs.’ ¢Nothing but a miracle can save us. Don’t let the men 108, \\'.hrew Was know, or there will be a panic and mutiny ! Lay her in shore, 0ra stack and stand by to jump with the stern-line the moment she touches. or a I Gentlemen, I must look to you to second my endeavours in orD this hour of peril. You have hats—go forrard and bail for 1l Order & your lives!’ 0 1t g fr Down swept another mighty blast of wind, clothed in spray and thick darkness. o would ofher At such a moment as this, came from away forward that most appalling of all cries that are ever heard at sea— to tie up, ot ¢ Man overboard !’ 9 e went o ot came af The captain shouted— ¢Hard a-port! Never mind the man! Let him climb aboard ¢ s head, an or wade ashore !’ ted to Land & id we ougtt Another cry came down the wind— ¢ Breakers ahead !’ Consequemly ole. It ¢1e¥ ¢ Where away ?’ ¢ Not a log’s length off her port fore-foot !’ yaled throug We had groped our slippery way forward, and were now decksin bailing with the frenzy of despair, when we heard the mate’s aptil shouté terrified cry, from far aft— ¢ Stop that dashed bailing, or we shall be aground !’ But this was immediately followed by the glad shout— yad 80 A TRAMP ABROAD. Dut yolll * Land aboard the starboard transom !’ ¢ Saved !’ cried the captain. ¢ Jump ashore and take a turn sS04 gl QP around a tree, and pass the bight aboard !’ ronehizg 1\ The next moment we were all on shore weeping and embracing for joy, while the rain poured down in torrents. Jitering 8 The captain cqmiortabie said he had been a mariner for forty years on the Neckar, and in that time had seen storms to make a man’s cheek blanch and his g, for fo 568 if the pulses stop, but he had never, never seen a storm that even sle almays approached this one. How familiar that sounded ! For I have been at sea a good deal, and have heard that remark from captains filure; e hehud o with a frequency accordingly. We framed in our minds the usual resolution of thanks and adsebthe admiration and gratitude, and took the first opportunity to vote it, and put it in writing and present it to the captain, with the customary speech. We tramped through the darkness and the drenching summer rain full three miles, and reached ¢ The Naturalist Tavern, in the village of Hirschhorn, just an hour before midnight, almost Ty the mor in the del exhausted from hardship, fatigue, and terror. I can never forget with the {12 that night. of the mena The landlord was rich, and therefore could afford to be crusty There were and disobliging ; he did not at all like being turned owt of his warm bed to open his house for us. But no matter, his house- foregn bin populons hold got up and cooked a quick supper for us, and we brewed a some free hot punch for ourselves, to keep off consumption. After supper and punch we had an hour’s soothing smoke while we fought the White ra and sniffed naval battle over again, and voted the resolutions; then we retired to exceedingly neat and pretty chambers upstairs that ity meck, v had clean, comfortable beds in them with ' heirloom - pillow-cases chickenya most elaborately and tastefully embroidered by hand. Taven hop Such rooms and beds and embroidered linen are as frequent said, ‘P in German village inns as they are rare in ours. Our villages feel i 1y are superior to German villages in more merits, excellences, {00 muh f conveniences and privileges than I can enumerate, but the hotels be judped do not belong in the list. I4Y6 seen gy ¢ The Naturalist Tavern’ was not a meaningless name; for Biyarg Tay all the halls and all the rooms were lined with large glass cases ] which were filled with all sorts of birds and animals, glass-eyed, ave fongg ably stuffed, and set up in the most natural and eloquent and roubleg for dramatic attitudes. The moment we were a-bed the rain cleared €4Vt fhg py away, and the moon came out. I dozed off to sleep while con- After b templating a great white stuffed owl which was looking intently asll of down on me from a high perch with the air of a person who Werg S0mg thought he had met me before, but could not make out for £ ). certain. A TRAMP ABROAD. 81 ng fll\@“ But young Z. did not get off so easily. He said that as he was sinking deliciously to sleep, the moon lifted away the shadows, an by, and developed a huge cat, on a bracket, dead and stuffed, but ty crouching, with every muscle tense, for a spring, and with its 1§ ® glittering glass eyes aimed straight at him. It made Z. un- 4 ang n comfortable. bl He tried closing his own eyes, but that did not alch and ki It} answer, for a natural instinct kept making him open them again imth b by dr to see if the cat was still getting ready to launch at him, which 0 [ gy she always was. He tried turning his back, but that was a A frop Qg’ptm.\ failure; he knew the sinister eyes were on him still. So at last he had to get up, after an hour or two of worry J and experiment, 1 0f tharky g and set the cat out in the hall. So he won, that time. poriity t Aptan, ih renching sy CIIAPTER XVIIL alist Taven midhight, ol IN the morning we took breakfast in the garden, under the trees, an never foge in the delightful German summer fashion. The air was filled with the fragrance of flowers and wild animals; the living portion ord to be erusy of the menagerie of the ¢Naturalist Tavern’ was all about us. med ot of by There were great cages populous with fluttering and chattering - fter, bis house foreign birds, and other great cages and greater wire pens, nd we brewed populous with quadrupeds, both native and foreign. There were o After supper some free creatures, too, and quite sociable ones they were. e we fought e White rabbits went loping about the place, and occasionally came and sniffed at our shoes and shins; a fawn, with a red ribbon on tions; then v ers upsas its neck, walked up and examined us fearlessly; rare breeds of chickens and doves begged for crumbs, and a poor old tailless oom-pilov-es hand, raven hopped about with an humble, shame-faced mien, which said, ‘ Please do not notice my exposure—think how you would are as frequent s, Our vilhgs feel in my circumstances, and be charitable.” If he was observed too much he would retire behind something, and stay there until it excellenes - he judged the party’s interest had found another object. I never , bt the otés have seen another dumb creature that was so morbidly sensitive. Bayard Taylor, who could interpret the dim reasonings of animals, Jess name; {0 and understood their moral natures better than most men, would rge glass o8 have found some way to make this poor old chap forget his als, glas4 troubles for a while, but we had not his kindly art, and so had to ] eloquent & leave the raven to his griefs. e rain ¢t After breakfast we climbed the hill and visited the ancient 6l while con- There castle of Hirschhorn, and the ruined church near it. ookilg intentlf were some curicus old bas-reliefs leaning against the inner walls of g gl the church—sculptured lords of Hirschhorn in complete armour e 00 G 82 A TRAMP ABROAD. and ladies of Hirschhorn in the picturesque court costumes of gond 2 ; the Middle Ages. These things are suffering damage and passing it S Therty ] to decay ; ‘for the last Hirschhorn has been dead two hundred T X years, and there is nobody now who cares to preserve the family (facher relics. In the chancel was a twisted stone column, and the cap- tain told us a legend about it, of course, for in the matter of — - [wsh id ot 20 legends he could not seem to restrain himself; but I do not repeat his tale, because there was nothing plausible about i, o 8500 except that the hero wrenched this column into its present screw- e chas shape with his hands—just one single wrench. All the rest of fy o I s the legend was doubtful. Four ofthe But Hirschhorn is best seen from a distance, down the river. e o Then the clustered brown towers perched on the green hilltop, oo and the old battlemented stone wall stretching up and over the aput grassy ridge and disappearing in the leafy sea beyond, make a fitly, i picture whose grace and beauty entirely satisfy the eye. Ty ‘We descended from the church by steep stone stairways which farn {he ex curved this way and that down narrow alleys between the packed (German cor and dirty tenements of the village. It was a quarter well stocked ay sl with deformed, leering, unkempt and uncombed idiots, who held Tetbo dlm out hands or caps and begged piteously. The people of the dilectpe quarter were not all idiots, of course, but all that begged seemed young L. to be, and were said to be. (e & I was thinking of going by skiff to the next town, Neckar- fidence—y steinach ; so I ran to the riverside in advance of the party, and as what asked a man there if he had a boat to hire. I suppose I must more fan have spoken High German,—Court German,—I intended it for indifferen I turned and that, anyway,—so he did not understand me. pltt-Den twisted my question around and about, trying to strike that man’s Words ar average, but failed. He could not make out what I wanted. ancestors Now Mr. X. arrived, faced this same man, looked him in the eye, quire of g and emptied this sentence on him, in the most glib and confident Hoey way i— ¢ Can man boat get here ?° mpoyed lek ot g] The mariner promptly understood and promptly answered. belnge I can comprehend why he was able to understand that particular ity | sentence, because by mere accident all the words in it except ‘get’ have the same sound and the same meaning in German that fire oy Presay | they have in English; but how he managed to understand Mr. o Oflg bem X.’s next remark puzzled me. I will insert it presently. X. turned away a moment, and I asked the mariner if he could not about gy find a board, and so construct an additional seat. - Iy I spoke in the by purest German; but I might as well have spoken in the purest Choctaw for all the good it did. The man tried his best tounder- y day, hm Ot A TRAMP ABROAD. 83 MWigeang Jasg stand me ; he tried, and kept on trying, harder and harder, until al g I saw it was really of no use, and said— IV thy , i There, don’t strain yourself; it is of no consequence.’ 0 ty Then X. turned to him and crisply said— L the gy ¢ Machen Sie a flat board.’ £ of Qlf, uf I dO ot I wish my epitaph may tell the truth about me if the man : flmble abgm did not answer up at once, and say he would go and borrow a board as soon as he had lit the pipe which he was filling. impre My 6 16 f We changed our mind about taking a boat, sowe did not have to go. I have given Mr. X.’s two remarks just as he made them. Four of the five words in the first one were English, and that they 8 down the Tt e gren b were also German was only accidental, not intentional; three out of the five words in the second remark were English, and English U and oy only, and the two German ones did not mean anything in par- b beyond mghy g epe, ticular, in such a connection. X. always spoke English to Germans, but his plan was to 3 stairways Wit turn the sentence wrong end first and upside down, according to eeen the puk arter well stockel German construction, and sprinkle in a German word without any essential meaning to it, here and there, by way of flavour. didiots, who ke Yet he always made himself understood. He could make those he people of i dialect-speaking raftsmen understand him, sometimes, when even t begued seend . young Z. had failed with them ; and young Z. was a pretty good German scholar. For one thing, X. always spoke with such con- xt town, Necka fidence—perhaps that helped. And possibly the raftsmen’s dialect of the party, i was what is called platt-Deutsch, and so they found his English | suppose | more familiar to their ears than another man’s German. Quite L intended it r indifferent students of German can read Fritz Reuter’s charming . 1 tumed ad platt-Deutsch tales with some little facility because many of the stk that mats words are English. I suppose this is the tongue which our Saxon - what ] wad ancestors carried to England with them. By-and-by I will in- 4 him in the e quire of some other philologist. b and e However, in the meantime, it had transpired that the men employed to caulk the raft had found that the leak was not a leak at all, but only a crack between the logs—a crack which mntly ausverd belonged there, and was not dangerous, but had been magnified There- 1 that prtiea into a leak by the disordered imagination of the mate. pls in i e fore we went aboard again with a good degree of confidence, and presently got to sea without accident. As we swam smoothly 7o Gemad i "mderstand along between the enchanting shores, we fell to swapping notes about manners and customs in Germany and elsewhere. ; presaly. As T write, now, many months later, I perceive that each of if e oul i us, by observing and noting and inquiring diligently and day Tspoke D2 ain e by day,had managed to lay in a most varied and opulent stock of a2 pis best 012 o 84 A TRAMP ABROAD. misinformation. But this is not surprising ; it is very diflicult to yend} jlote oW s get; accurate details in any country. finks, For example, I had the idea once, in Heidelberg, to find out all about those five student corps. I started with the White Cap ol gt oo of i Corps. I began to inquire of this and that and the other citizen, and here is what I found out :— o ] ST 1. Tt is called the Prussian Corps, because none but Prussians yeoturés frtand o are admitted to it. %% 9. Tt is called the Prussian Corps for no particular reason. It offirfor @ firgh cours has simply pleased each corps to name itself after some German because O State. 3. It is not named the Prussian Corps at all, but only the fhose e 5 erimel White Cap Corps. i 4. Any student can belong to it who is a German by birth. ) and be e gobupat 5. Any student can belong to it who is European by birth. Thus 6. Any European-born student can belong to it, except hebe a Frenchman. but not f enouzh 7. Any student can belong to it, no matter where he was born. Bven 8. No student can belong to it who isnot of noble blood. needed Onceat B 9. No student can belong to it who cannot show three full generations of noble descent. sure fhat since 1 ha 10. Nobility is not a necessary qualification. 11. No moneyless student can belong to it. might be 12. Money qualification is nonsense—such a thing has never had got{ been thought of. remark, I got some of this information from students themselves— 0ut her ¢ students who did not belong to the corps. I finally went to head- etumed quarters—to the White Caps—where I would have gone in the The first place if T had been acquainted. But even at headquarters I which found difficulties; I perceived that there were things about the pelsstria White Cap Corps which one member knew and another one couty i didn’t. It was natural ; for very few members of any organisation know all that can be known about it. I doubt if there is a man gelnt!emau mans, oo or a woman in Heidelberg who would not answer promptly and they had confidently three out of every five questions about the White Cap Parties Corps which a stranger might ask; yet it is a very safe bet that Usta] by two of the three answers would be incorrect every time. Ao There is one German custom which is universal—the bowing Iext oy courteously to strangers when sitting down at table or rising up U8 Withoy from it. This bow startles a stranger out of his self-possession, the first time it occurs, and he is likely to fall over a chair or Oved gy look of ( something, in his embarrassment, but it pleases him nevertheless. One socn learns to expect this bow and be on the look-out and 10 expecu‘ng Il A TRAMP ABROAD. 85 Yery dimcuh b ready to return it; but to learn to lead off and make the initial ) g T i bow one’s self is a difficult matter for a diffident man. One tewh Ite () thinks, ‘If I rise to go, and tender my bow and these ladiex %ot i, and gentlemen take it into their heads to ignore the cus- tom of their nation, and not return it, how shall I feel in 6 byt Pm‘m'ans case I survive to feel anything?’ Therefore he is afraid to venture. He sits out the dinner, and makes the strangers rise otlgy e, Jf first and originate the bowing. A table d’hdte dinner is a tedious affair for a man who seldom touches anything after the three % 801 Gy first courses; therefore I used to do some pretty dreary waiting because of my fears. It took me months to assure myself that fiH, but only fhe those fears were groundless, but I did assure myself at last by man by b experimenting diligently through my agent. I made Rarris get up and bow and leave : invariably his bow was returned, then I pean by bi got up and bowed myself and retired. Iy €X0ept ey Thus my education proceeded easily and comfortably for me, but not for Harris. Three courses of a table d’lidte dinner were ! where he wy enough for me, but Harris preferred thirteen. Even after I had acquired full confidence, and no longer oble blood. needed the agent’s help, I sometimes encountered difficulties. how three ful Once at Baden-Baden I nearly lost a train because I could not be sure that three young ladies opposite me at table were Germans, since I had not heard them speak ; they might be American, they might be English, it was not safe to venture a bow ; but just as I thing has neer had got that far with my thought, one of them began a German remark, to my great relief and gratitude ; and before she had got ts themselves— out her third word, our bows had been delivered and graciously Iy wentto I 6 el returned, and we were off. ave gonedn 2 There is a friendly something about the German character f headgpares | which is very winning. When Harris and I were making a pedestrian tour through the Black Forest, we stopped at a little hings abon \d another o country inn for dinner one day; two young ladies and a young oy organin gentleman entered and sat down opposite us. They were pedes- trians, too. here isa m Our knapsacks were strapped upon our backs, but r promptly 8 they bad a sturdy youth along to carry theirs for them. All the White (3 parties were hungry, so there was no talking. By-and-by the y cafe ettt usual bows were exchanged, and we separated. Hime. As we sat at a late breakfast in the hotel at Allerheiligen, next morning, these young people entered and took places near —thebowg Jo or rsig ¥ us without observing us; but presently they saw us and at once bowed and smiled; not ceremoniously, but with the gratified selfposstsh = yer & dhar look of people who have found acquaintances where they were 7 neve! theless expecting strangers. Then they spoke of the weather and the roads. We also spoke of the weather and the roads. Next, , Jokeant & 86 A TRAMP ABROAD. iTherty they said they had had an enjoyable walk, notwithstanding Then the weather. We said that that had been our case, too. fre they said they had walked thirty English miles the day Everyb' before, and asked how many we had walked. I could not everj‘body : Harris told them we had made Jooking 10 lie, so I told Harris to do it. thirty English miles, too. That was true; we had ‘made’ them, ouiseys though we had had a little assistance here and there. §That (eman After breakfast they found us trying to blast some information out of the dumb hotel clerk about routes, and observing that we ] g were not succeeding pretty well, they went and got their maps She and things, and pointed out and explained our course so clearly fr namey that even a New York detective could have followed it. And qud Bader when we started they spoke out a hearty good-bye and wished Beonly @ us a pleasant journey. Perhaps they were more generous with If one | us than they might have been with native wayfarers because we ghadi were a forlorn lot and in a strange land ; I don’t know; I only him o di know it was lovely to be treated so. offnded: Very well, I took an American young lady to one of the fine will drop balls in Baden-Baden, one night, and at the entrance-door up- London, stairs we were halted by an official—something about Miss with me Jones’s dress was not according to rule; I don’t remember what ahout i it was, now: something was wanting—her back hair, or a shawl, Fegpens or a fan, or a shovel, or something. The official was ever so £41 006 € polite, and ever so sorry, but the rule was strict, and he could coud be! not let us in. It was very embarrassing, for many eyes were on us. But now a richly dressed girl stepped out of the ball-room, inquired into the trouble, and said she could fix it in a moment. She took Miss Jones to the robing-room, and soon brought her back in regulation trim, and then we entered the ball-room with this benefactress unchallenged. Hoveves Being safe now, I began to puzzle through my sincere but ansteinac ungrammatical thanks, when there was a sudden mutual recog- trout dig Two nition—the benefactress and I had met at Allerheiligen. to-honr weeks had not altered her good face, and plainly her heart was e g in the right place yet, but there was such a difference between Tnean thyt these clothes and the clothes I had seen her in before, when she We megnt was walking thirty miles a day in the Black Forest, that it was Bor ] quite natural that I had failed to recognise her sooner. I had on my other suit, too, but my German would betray me to a picturesqr JOu; the person who had heard it once, anyway. She brought her brother Storgs th and sister, and they made our way smooth for that evening. Ut g Well, months afterwards, I was driving through the streets forg of Munich in a cab with a German lady, one day, when she said— e ¢ Mlatig o A TRAMP ABROAD. 87 0h Mg, &, top, Th ¢There, that is Prince Ludwig and his wife, walking along Tilgg there.’ | the by g Everybody was bowing to them—cabmen, little children, and ol o hfid n everybody else—and they were returning all the bows and over- a mflde’t iy, looking nobody, when a young lady met them and made a deep Ere, ' curtsey. SO 10y ¢ That is probably one of the ladies of the court,’ said my 0erving German friend. 20 thej n, I said— Bl 1 I know her. T don't know s g ) ¢She is an honour to it, then. ylbwed it Qd her name, but I know her. I have known her at Allerheiligen and Baden-Baden. She ought to be an Empress, but she may =078 and g 6 gEnetous i be only a Duchess; it is the way things go in this world.’ ATETs g If one asksa German a civil question, he will be quite sure to If you stop a German in the street and ask 1t know Loy get a civil answer. him to direct you to a certain place, he shows no sign of fecling offended. If the place be difficult to find, ten to one the man 0 0n6 of the e will drop his own matters and go with you and show you. In rance-door . ng about M London, too, many a time, strangers have walked several blocks with me to show me my way. There is something very real remember what about this sort of politeness. Quite often, in Germany, shop- i, or 2 shay] al was ever keepers who could not furnish me the article I wanted, have gent one of their employés with me to show me a place where it t and he coul could be had. eyes }\'ere (U] i) [l room it in & momett on. brought bt CHAPTER XIX. y ball-room it ITowEVER, I wander from the raft. We made the port of Neck- my sincere b arsteinach in good season, and went to the hotel and ordered a ) mutual 2 trout dinner, the same to be ready against our return from a heilgen, T two-hour pedestrian excursion to the village and castle of Dils- berg, a mile distant, on the other side of the river. I do not 7 her heart 8 orece betwe'en mean that we proposed to be two hours making two miles—no, fore, Whet S8 we meant to employ most of the time in inspecting Dilsberg. For Dilsberg is a quaint place. It is most quaintly and est, that it wad ~ Imagine the beautiful river before gooners tl picturesquely situated, too. petray e 108 you; then a few rods of brilliant green sward on its opposite shore ; then a sudden hill—no preparatory gently-rising slopes, it her o but a sort of instantaneous hill—a hill two hundred and fifty or eyening } three hundred feet high, as round as a bowl, with the same taper b e street upward that an inverted bowl has, and with about the same d:]; e o telation of height to diameter that distinguishes a bowl of good 88 A TRAMP ABROAD, e 10 I honest depth—a hill which is thickly clothed with green bushes O erflmen —a comely, shapely hill, rising abruptly out of the dead level of fheeDIE i the surrounding green plains, visible from a great distance down The ¢4 the bends of the river, and with just exactly rovm on the top of deni'e’s’ hat its head for its steepled and turreted and roof-clustered cap of { < Amive architecture, which sameis tightly jammed and compacted within the perfectly round hoop of the ancient village wall. ‘; and life been A" There is no house outside the wall on the whole hill, or any heating vestige of a former house; all the houses are inside the wall, but there isn’t room for another one. It is really a finished town, harn, Al | ot farm and has been finished a very long time. There is no space be- tween the wall and the first circle of buildings; no, the village Jgl 1 fhem a0 wall is itself the rear wall of the first circle of buildings, and the roofs jut a little over the wall and thus furnish it with eaves. conper W The general level of the massed roofs is gracefully broken and Jmged {l yoomsof relieved by the dominating towers of the ruined castle and the tall spires of a couple of churches; so, from a distance, Dilsberg ducks a1 has rather more the look of a king’s crown than a cap. That picking lofty green eminence and its quaint coronet form quite a striking vy old picture, you may be sure, in the flush of the evening sun. chinupo children We crossed over in a boat and began the ascent by a narrow, i umindfi steep path, which plunged us at once into the leafy deeps of the bushes. But they were not cool deeps by any means, for the Bxey sun’s rays were weltering hot, and there was little or no breeze the plce to temper them. As we panted up the sharp ascent, we met the di brown, bare-headed and bare-footed boys and girls, occasionally, Tt dul and sometimes men ; they came upon us without warning, they sights W gave us good-day, flashed out of sight in the bushes, and were tank or pitcher- gone as suddenly and mysteriously as they had come. They were bound for the other side of the river to work. This path bl had been travelled by many generations of these people. They Our e more have always gone down to the valley to earn their bread, but they have always climbed their hill again to eat it, and to sleep cession ¢ in their snug town. tatl, | It is said that the Dilsbergers do not emigrate much; they find arche g that living up there above the world, in their peaceful nest, is efft g pleasanter than living down in the troublous world. The seven 45 guide hundred inhabitants are all blood-kin to each other, too ; they fook have always been blood-kin to each other for fifteen hundred Iandscapg years; they are simply one large family, and they like the home Dearer yy folks better than they like strangers, hence they persistently stay [ 006 by at home. It has been said that for ages Dilsberg has been merely the gy a thriving and diligent idiot-factory. I saw no idiots there, Prinig but the captain said, ‘ Because of late years the government has an emp‘ A TRAMP ABROAD. 89 Sregy 1 bUck € deaq le\d taken to lugging them off to asylums and otherwheres; and b dig government wants to cripple the factory, too, and is trying to get e dOr Lty to these Dilsbergers to marry out of the family, but they don’t like to.’ A fre] The captain probably imagined all this, as modern science MDact oy, I “denies that the intermarrying of relatives deteriorates the stock. Arrived within the wall, we found the usual village sights and life. We moved along a narrow, crooked lane which had hol ) ) O any ' 1nside o been paved in the Middle Ages. A strapping, ruddy girl was beating flax or some such stuff in a little bit of a goods-box of a a finisheg tin barn, and she swung her flail with a wili—if it was a flail; I was B9 pate by 3 10, { not farmer enough to know what she was at; a frowsy, bare- legged girl was herding half a dozen geese with a stick—driving ildiny sh ity them along the lane and keeping them out of the dwellings; a cooper was at work in a shop which I know he did not make so ‘fufiy brokey ml large a thing as a hogshead in, for there was not room. In the front ed castlo a rooms of dwellings girls and women were cooking or spinning, and ance, Dildhen ducks and chickens were waddling in and out, over the threshold, na cap, T picking up chance crumbs and holding pleasant converse; a | guire a srikin very old and wrinkled man sat asleep before his door, with his g sun, chin upon his breast, and his extinguished pipe in his lap ; soiled 1t by a narnor, children were playing in the dirt everywhere along the lane, unmindful of the sun. afy doeps f the means, for the Except the sleeping old man, everybody was at work, but tle or no breeze the place was very still and peaceful, nevertheless; so still that ascent the distant cackle of the successful hen smote upon the ear but Tl o¢ ¥ Te' little dulled by intervening sounds. That commonest of village am IR al , 0E] sights was lacking here—the public pump, with its great stone 301 (13‘1 “'EI'E tank or IS O trough of limpid, water, and its group of gossiping pitcher-bearers; for.there is no well or fountain or spring on this ad come, The ork, Thispth tall hill; cisterns of rain water are used. Our alpenstocks and muslin tails compelled attention, and as o people They their bread, b we moved through the village we gathered a considerable pro- cession of little boys and girls, and so went in some state to the it and to g9 castle. It proved to be an extensive pile of crumbling walls, arches and towers, massive, properly grouped for picturesque nch; theyfod effect, weedy, grass-grown, and satisfactory. The children acted eaceful nesh ¥ d, Theserel as guides; they walked us along the top of the highest wall, then took us up into a high tower and showed us a wide and beautiful e, too; ] heen hund® landscape, made up of wavy distances of woody hills, and a nearer prospect of undulating expanses of green lowlands on the ke the hone one hand, and castle-graced crags and ridges on the other, with oristently 47 But the the shining curves of the Neckar flowing between. 1 been I principal show, the chief pride of the children, was the ancient it e and empty well in the grass-grown court of the castle. Its orernét 90 A TRAMP ABROAD. Wefl, l massive stone curb stands up three or four feet above ground, and is whole and uninjured. The children said that in the delivefed 1 Middle Ages this well was four hundred feet deep, and furnished all the village with an abundant supply of water, in war and peace. They said that in that old day its bottom was below the level of the Neckar, hence the water supply was inexhaustible. Tt was But there were some who believed it had never been a well company at all, and was never deeper than it is now—eighty feet ; that at course b that depth a subterranean passage branched from it and de- the falk scended gradually to a remote place in the valley, where it youd 2 opened into somebody’s eellar or other hidden recess, and that el the secret of this locality is now lost. Those who hold this o — S g S e is belief say that herein lies the explanation that Dilsberg, besieged might o by Tilley and many a soldier before him, was never taken: after himsel the longest and closest sieges the besiegers were astonished to Straight perceive that the besieged were as fat and hearty as ever, and as confrive well furnished with munitions of war—therefore it must be that in that the Dilsbergers had been bringing these things in through the persuade subterranean passage all the time. piece of The children said that there was in truth a subterranean outlet sy down there, and they would prove it. So they set a great truss ( all ber of straw on fire and threw it down the well, while we leaned on wisfim the curb and watched the glowing mass descend. It struck foriy bottom ard gradually burned out. No smoke came up. The 1ing beg children clapped their hands and said— could ne ‘You see! Nothing makes so much smoke as burning ; have he straw—now where did the smoke go to, if there is no subter- ranean outlet ? > flung showed So it seemed quite evident that the subterranean outlet indeed Then o existed. But the finest thing within the ruin’s limits was a I she rece noble linden, which ‘the children said was four hundred years mission old, and no doubt it was. It had a mighty trunk and a mighty had falg spread of limb and foliage. The limbs near the ground were Abm nearly the thickness of a barrel. fa KeD o That tree had witnessed the assaults of men in mail—how by a0} remote such a time seems, and how ungraspable is the fact that real men ever did fight in real armour!—and it had seen the Whe 8l it W time when these broken arches and crumbling battlements were a trim and strong and stately fortress, fluttering its gay banners change] CObihg in the sun, and peopled with vigorous humanity,—how impossibly Was rick long ago that seems I—and here it stands yet, and possibly may ut b still be standing here, sunning itself and dreaming its historical F T “ancient.’ dreams, when to-day shall have been joined to the days called Bey lg C0i0y A TRAMP ABROAD. 91 shovg g ¢ fougy hat i i Well, we sat down under the tree to smoke, and the captain B and g ke delivered himself of his legend : H('rl Ly 1 ¥ by f THE LEGEND OF DILSBERG CASTLE. J mp‘ha\l\nbl Tt was to this effect. In the old time there was once a great V6 begy . I iy 68 it company assembled at the castle, and festivity ran high. Of 00 1t gy g, course there was a haunted chamber in the castle, and one day vl the talk fell upon that. It was said that whoever slept in it € y) Ve § d nd Liig would not wake again for fifty years. Now when a young knight 10 named Conrad von Geisberg heard this, he said that if the castle were his he would destroy that chamber, so thatno foolish person b () might have the chance to bring so dreadful a misfortune upon 16 himself and afflict such as loved him with the memory of it. ety Straightway the company privately laid their heads together to /38 ever, ang g 1t must by contrive some way to get this superstitious young man to sleep in that chamber. And they succeeded—in this way. They 0 through persuaded his betrothed, a lovely mischievous young creat ure, niece of the lord of the castle, to help them in their plot. She ErTanean outle presently took him aside and had speech with him. She used great trug all her persuasions, but could not shake him; he said his belief e we leaned on was firm that if he should sleep there he would wake no more 1d, It sk Catha- for fifty years, and it make him shudder to think of it. came up, The rina began to weep. This was a better argument; Conrad He yielded, and said she should could not hold out against it ke 4 bunig have her wish if she would only smile and be happy again. She 0 15 10 subte- flung her arms about his neck, and the kisses she gave him showed that her thankfulness and her pleasure were very real. an oufleb indeed Then she flew to tell the company her success, and the applause 's limity was & she received made her glad and proud she had undertaken her hundred yeas mission, since all alone she had accomplished what the multitude C and & mghy had failed in. At midnight, that night, after the usual feasting, Conrad was o ground e taken to the haunted chamber and left there. He fell asleep, in mail—-hor by-and-by. 5 he fat tat When he awoke again and looked about him, his heart stood still with horror! The whole aspect of the chamber was - ad seen {6 tlements Veré changed. The walls were mouldy and hung with ancient cobwebs; -the curtains and beddings were rotten ; the furniture s gaf banners o mposshl was rickety and ready to fall to pieces. He sprang out of bed, ossibly 26 but his quaking knees sank under him and he fell to the floor. ¢ This is the weakness of age,” he said. ity histoi He rose and sought his clothing. It was clothing no longer. he days Gl The colours were gone, the garments gave way in many places 92 A TRAJ![P ABROAD. while he was putting them on. He fled, shuddering, into the i4h i p g & corridor, and along it to the great hall. Here he was met by a middle-aged stranger of a kind countenance, who stopped and [l iy dide o gazed at him with surprise. Conrad said— Fer b (38 il His hea ¢ Good sir, will you send hither the lord Ulrich ?° The stranger looked puzzled a moment, then said— 2V fld bmS ¢The lord Ulrich ?’ fiung & o ¢ There ¢ Yes—if you will be so good.’ The stranger called—¢ Wilhelm !’ A young serving man [ .“fl dll go 00 came, and the stranger said to him— ]QS And ¢ ¢ Is there a lord Ulrich among the guests ?’ ¢ I know none of the name, so please your honour.’ ot yere g Conrad said, hesitatingly— ‘I did not mean a guest, but the lord of the castle, sir.’ e i The stranger and the servant exchanged wondering glances. RN Then the former said— youa hed ‘I am the lord of the castle.” hight the ¢ Since when, sir?’ decay, an ¢Since the death ot my father, the good lord Ulrich, more sleep s than forty years ago.’ in their Conrad sank upon a bench and covered his face with his now di bands while he rocked his body to and fro and moaned. The be sure, stranger said in a low voice to the servant— ready for ¢I fear me this poor old creature is mad. Call some one. for the m In a moment several people came, and grouped themselves now!’ about, talking in whispers. He | Conrad looked up and scanned the faces about him wistfully. Then he shook his head and said ia dreamy v a grieved voice— Tan ¢ No, there is none among ye that I know. I am old and guave! alone in the world. They are dead and gone these many years Al that cared for me. But sure, some of these aged ones I sce Ting sank about me can tell me some little word or two concerning them.’ Allds Several bent and tottering men and women came nearer and and comp answered his questions about each former friend as he mentioned tl}e lace the names. This one they said had been dead ten years, that His tum ¢ one twenty, another thirty. Each succeeding blow struck heavier and heavier. At last the sufferer said — Bim ty by Qered sty ¢ There is one more, but I have not the courage to—O my Gond lost Catharina !’ One of the old dames said— Jeas; ye am gy ¢ Ah, I knew her well, poor soul! A misfortune overtook Brave, her lover, and she died of sorrow nearly fifty years ago. She Dy lieth under the linden tree without the court.’ Conrad bowed his head and said— Moy ¢ ]mugifl‘ary I ' A TRAMP ABROAD. 93 uflerin" y Wt I Wi ] ¢ Ah, why did I ever wake! And so she died of grief for )y ‘ Thg 5‘»0[] me, poor child. So young, so sweet, so good. She never wit- el ‘e:nd tingly did a hurtful thing in all the little summer of her life. tih» Her loving debt shall be repaid—for I will die of grief for her.” 1800~ His head dropped upon his breast. In a moment there was a wild burst of joyous laughter, a pair of round young arms were flung about Conrad’s neck, and a sweet voice cried— e i‘ér\'ing i | “There, Conrad mine, thy kind words kill me—the farce shall go no further ! Look up, and laugh with us—'twas all a jest !’ lonoyr,! And he did look up, and gazed, in a dazed wonderment—for the disguises were stripped away, and the aged men and women were bright and young and gay again. Catharina’s happy tale, g tongue ran on— Oudering gy ¢ "Twas a marvellous jest, and bravely carried out. They gave you a heavy sleeping draught before you went to bed, and in the night they bore you to a ruined chamber where all had fallen to decay, and placed these rags of clothing by you. And when your od Ulrich, sleep was spent and you came forth, two strangers, well instructed in their parts, were here to meet you; and all we, your friends, s face with iy in our disguises, were close at hand, to see and hear, you may | moaned, The be sure. Ah, 'twas a gallant jest ! Come, now, and make thee ready for the pleasures of the day. How real was thy misery ll some one! for the moment, thou poor lad ! Look up and have thy laugh, uped themselys now !’ and scanned the He looked up, searched the merry faces about him in a head and sud dreamy way, then sighed and said— ‘T am a-weary, good strangers; I pray you lead me to her T odand grave.’ hese many yes All the smiles vanished away, every cheek blanched, Catha- ged ones [w rina sank to the ground in a swoon. All day the people went about the castle with troubled faces, neering hew. ame nearer and and communed together in under-tones. A painful hush pervaded g5 he mentonel the place which had lately been so full of cheery life. Each in his turn tried to arouse Conrad out of his hallucination and bring ten years him to himself; but all the answer any got was a meek, bewil- { blow struck dered stare, and then the words— ¢ Good stranger, I have no friends, all are at rest these many rage to~01 years; ye speak me fair, ye mean me well, but I know ye not; I am alone and forlorn in the world—prithee lead me to her grave. e 0 a4 During two years Conrad spent his days, from the early s 440 % morning till the night, under the linden tree, mourning over the inlagir{ax'y grave of his Catharina. Catharina wus the only 94 A TRAMP ABROAD. fhe ofhess! company of the harmless madman. He was very friendly toward iy Jadi her because, as he said, in some ways she reminded him of his He often said— it B Catharina whom he had lost ¢ fifty years ago.’ {ip bridges ¢She was so gay, so happy-hearted—but you never smile; They Were and always when you think I am not looking, you cry.’ and felt Ii‘ When Conrad died, they buried him under the linden, accor- scenetye ding to his directions, so that he might rest ‘near his poor and SOV Catharina.’ Then Catharina sat under the linden alone, every matters; day and all day long, a great many years, speaking to no one, wanied 8 and never smiling; and at last her long repentance was rewarded with death, and she was buried by Conrad’s side. Harris pleased the captain by saying it was a good legend ; and pleased him further by adding— “Now that I have seen this mighty tree, vigorous with its Nex? mo four hundred years, I feel a desire to believe the legend for its Hambur sake; so I will humour the desire, and consider that the tree (Germans really watches over those poor hearts and feels a sort of human tenderness for them.’ particn)a‘ dong izn We returned to Neckarsteinach, plunged our hot head into nean the trough at the town pump, and then went to the hotel and ate our trout dinner in leisurely comfort, in the garden, with the ing o i itisa e beautiful Neckar flowing at our feet, the quaint Dilsberg looming hour and beyond, and the graceful towers and battlements of a couple of medieval castles (called the ¢Swallow’s Nest’! and ¢The if youtl Brothers *) assisting the rugged scenery of a bend of the river be ey down to our right. We got to sea in season to make the eight- Jou can mile run to Heidelberg before the night shut down. We sailed admiraf by the hotel in the mellow glow of sunset, and came slashing tongue, | down with the mad current into the narrow passage between the soff and dykes. I believed I could shoot the bridge myself, so I went to Hambur; Howerer the forward triplet of logs and relieved the pilot of his pole and his responsibility. Dattered We went tearing along in a most exhilarating way, and I aref performed the delicate duties of my office very well indeed for a here first attempt ; but perceiving, presently, that I really was going Ve sef g to shoot the bridge itself instead of the archway under it, I Xatur‘ judiciously stepped ashore. The next moment I had my long- Ko coveted desire: I saw a raft wrecked. It hit the pier in the 5 inCOHY\ centre and went all to smash and scatteration like a box of i brig matches struck by lightning. Pursug; ¢ I was the only one of our party who saw this grand sight; faid ry ! The seeker after information is referred to Appendix E for our Cap- B i tain’s Legend of the ¢ Swallow’s Nest’ and ¢ The Brothers. °fb()fh i Hero he 1 fieg) A TRAMP ADBROAD. 95 towgy nge] lmfh the others were attitudinising, for the benefit of tte long rank of Heo ft €0 i young ladies who were promenading on the bark, and so they Ju Leyey B b lost it. But I helped to fish them out of the river, down below Jou gy the bridge, and then described it to them as well as I could. e gy b deg, They were not interested, though. They said they were wet e by 1 and felt ridiculous, and did not care anything for descriptions of S ey scenery. The young ladies, and other people, crowded around EAxIng 0 g and showed a great deal of sympathy, but that did not help 3‘:, ::R matters ; for my friends said they did not want sympathy, they ( lel'Ce Was ey wanted a back alley and solitude. @8 ol lgm, Vigoons wih i CHAPTER XX. the g fr NexT morning brought good news—our trunks had arrived from er fhat fhe frg Hamburg at last. The 13 8 50 of b Let this be a warning to the reader. Germans are very conscientious, and this trait makes them very particular. Therefore if you tell a German you want a thing our ot head iy 0 the hofel ands done immediately, he takes you at your word; he thinks you mean what you say; so he does that thing immediately—accord- garden, with fs ing to his idea of immediately—which is about a week; that is, Dilsberg oomin it is a week if it refers to the building of a garment, or it is an 8 of a couple hour and a half if it refers to the cooking of a trout. Very well; Vest'! and ‘The if you tell a German to send your trunk to you by ¢slow freight,’ bend of the rver he takes you at your word; he sends it by ‘slow freight,’ and 0 make the you cannot imagine how long you will go on enlarging your down, Wi admiration of the expressiveness of that phrase in the German and came § tongue, before you get that trunk. The hair on my trunk was age betieen soft and thick and useful, when I got it ready for shipment in so] wenth Hamburg ; it was baldheaded when it reached Heidelberg. However, it was still sound, that was a comfort, it was not ot sftl s ol al battered in the least; the baggagemen seemed to be conscientiously careful, in Germany, of the bageage entrusted to their hands. rating Wiy ol There was nothing now in the way of our departure, therefore rell ndeed fgra really ws §1%3 we set about our preparations. Naturally my chief solicitude was about my collection of yay under 1y Keramics. Of course I could not take it with me; that would T Jad my et ¢ the pr bt be inconvenient, and dangerous besides. I took advice, but the best bric-a-brackers were divided as to the wisest course to p lke a b pursue: some said pack the collection and warehouse it; others said try to get it into the Grand Ducal Museum at Mannheim for g gl S8 safe keeping. So I divided the collection, and followed the advice of both parties. I set aside for the Museum those articles which ;ndi,x phrortt ¢S were the most frail and precious. A TRAMP ABROAD. Among these was my Etruscan tear-jug. I bought this tear- hii I deep il]ffln jug of a dealer in antiquities for four hundred and fifty dollars. Jecton of beg8 The man said the Etruscans used to keep tears It is very rare. gpicture 0 or something in these things, and that it was very hard to get ipthemi 560 hold of a broken one now. I also set aside my Henri IL. plate. Triseasy This is very fine and rare; the shape is exceedingly beautiful and despise S5 4 unusual. Tt has wonderful decorations on it, but I am not able g Byng ol to reproduce them. It cost more than the tear-jug, as the dealer context €0 D said there was not another plate just like it in the world. He proud £ be. said there was much false Henri II. ware around, but that the Teason 45 11 genuiness of this piece was unquestionable. He showed me its i Instrious I pedigree, or its history if you please; it was a document which jug. Very) traced this plate’s movements all the way down from its birth— and theest showed who bought it, from whom, and what he paid for it—from in Mannhein the first buyer down to me, whereby I saw that it had gone there yet. steadily up from thirty-five cents to seven hundred dollars. He T had bu said that the whole Keramic world would be informed that it ad kept bac was now in my possession and would make a note of it, with the It waga gre price paid. Heidelberg, ¢ There were Masters in those days, but alas! it is not so now. ar tio I far Of course the main preciousness of this piece lies in its colour; ad a plas it is that old sensuous, pervading, ramifying, interpolating, trans- The oy tro boreal blue which is the despair of modern art. The little sketch rightly it o which I made of this gem cannot and does not do it justice, since that the dis I have been obliged to leave out the colour. quitted the However, I must not be frittering away the reader’s time 10 Baden-B: with these details. I did not intend to go into any detail at all, Which we g at first, but it is the failing of the true keramiker, or the true ingly warm, devotee in any department of bric-a-brackery, that once he gets One of his tongue or his pen started on his darling theme, he cannot the sreet, well stop until he drops from exhaustion. He has no more sense a lucky eng of the flight of time than has any other lover when talking of his sensitive g sweetheart. The very ‘marks’ on the bottom of a piece of rare genuine yefy crockery are able to throw me into a gibbering ecstasy; and I time, but could forsake a drowning relative to help dispute about whether artis burg the stopple of a departed Buon Retiro scent-bottle was genuine or 8~ spurious. Many people say that for a male person, bric-a-brac hunting ‘Thave and gy et is about as robust a business as making doll-clothes, or decoratin s Japanese pots with decalcomanie butterflies would be, and these £0t5 ey Wl people fling mud at that elegant Englishman, Byng, who wrote a fothat f g book called ¢ The Bric-a4-Brac Hunter,” and make fun of him for chasing around after what they choose to call ¢his despicahle Lfld b( Vs walkipg. trifles;’ and for ‘gushing’ over these.trifles ; and for exhibiting ! 0ngg g bOn A TRAMP ABROAD. 97 ! hlS Mr ad fi Ol his ‘deep infantile delight’ in what they call his ¢ tuppenny col- > o 1\9( Jection of beggarly trivialities; and for beginning his book with Yery ]mrd § a picture of himself] seated, in a ¢ sappy, self-complacent attitude, Y Lo | Pl in the midst of his poor little ridiculous bric-a-brac junk shop.’ Il b lfl A It is easy to say these things; it is easy to revile us, easy to I g hil) despise us; therefore, let these people rail on; they cannot feel U8, 25t ) as Byng and I feel—it is their loss, not ours. For my part I am 16 wol, ; content to be a bric-a-bracker and a keramiker—more, I am Ld, by gy t proud to be so named. I am proud to know that I lose my © showe e i reason as immediately in the presence of a rare jug with an illustrious mark on the bottom of it, as if I had just emptied that vt 1 from i jug. Very well; I packed and stored a part of my collection, and the rest of it I placed in the care of the Grand Ducal Museum 6 paid for Ul that i g m in Mannheim, by permission. My Old Blue China Cat remains there yet. I presented it to that excellent institution. dred dol i Tnfo th I had but one misfortune with my things. An egg which I had kept back from breakfast that morning was broken in packing. 0t of i I had shown it to the best connoisseurs in It was a great pity. Heidelberg, and they all said it was an antique. We spent a day [t 'J‘S 10f 80 2o, . We it coloury or two in farewell visits, and then left for Baden-Baden. ! had a pleasant trip of it, for the Rhine valley is always lovely. ng, frans T je it The only trouble was that the trip was too short. If I remember rightly, it only occupied a couple of Lours; therefore I judge Lo it ustice s Lt We that the distance was very little, if any, over fifty miles. quitted the train at Oos, and walked the entire remaining distance to Baden-Baden, with the exception of a lift of less than an hour fhe rgader’s tin‘t‘e all 4k which we got on a passing waggon, the weather being exhaust- £l or 1 6 b ingly warm. We came into town on foot. f onee e g One of the first persons we encountered, as we walked up be e the street, was the Rev. Mr. , an old friend from America— 110 Ore & a lucky encounter, indeed, for his is a most gentle, refined and ohen talking of 3 sensitive nature, and his company and companionship are a ofa piece o genuine refreshment. We knew he had been in Europe some g ecstasyj At time, but were not at all expecting to run across him. Both ¢ about Wheld g parties burst forth into loving enthusiasms, and Rev. Mr. [ yias genuitet sald— ‘I have got a brimful reservoir of talk to pour out on you, and an empty one ready and thirsting to receive what you have o-iehrac b s o decoris got; we will sit up till midnight and have a good satisfying interchange, for I leave here early in the morning.’ We agreed g by to that, of course. o, who M8 ‘, C’un Of him fir I bad been vaguely conscious, for a while, of a persen who { was walking in the street abreast of us. I had glanced furtively at | ‘his despimh’f 1 hibit bim once or twice, and noticed that he was a fine, large, vigorous d for &8 H 98 A TRAMP ABROAD. fhe gOU o ny ifl young fellow, with an open, independent countenance, faintly gl i do shaded with a pale and even almost imperceptible crop of early arpe g fh down, and that he was clothed from head to heel in cool and led ol enviable snow-white linen. I thought I had also noticed that i gl good to his head had a sort of listening tilt to it. Now about this time i theold 2 the Rev. Mr. said— ¢ The side-walk is hardly wide enough for three, so. I will yame s VA0 jng 00 {10 walk behind; but keep the talk going, keep the talk going, there’s no time to lose, and you may be sure I will do my share.’ fhat part He ranged himself behind us, and straightway that stately Jeam 4 0 (terman; 0! snow-white young fellow closed up to the side-walk alongside fklo tis him, fetched him a cordial slap on the shoulder with his broad palm, and sung out with-a hearty cheeriness— Firtofy bt dont ¢ Americans, for two-and-a-half and the money up ! Hey 2? ¢The Reverend winced, but said mildly— think and d ¢ Yes—we are Americans.’ hetyeen you fhat was ve ¢Lord love you, you can just bet that’s what I am, every time ! Put it there !’ when [ge He held out his Sahara of a palm, and the Reverend laid his take me g yourat! t diminutive hand in it, and got so cordial a shake that we heard and sthooldea his glove burst under it. ¢ Say, didn’t I put you up right ?’ aboutit! He ¢ 0 yes. Justai' any ¢Sho! I spotted you for my kind the minute I heard your e Qonehy clack. You been over here long?”’ spavined, e ¢ About four months. your bar, | Have you been over long?’ ¢ Long ? Well, I should say so ! Going on two years, by tired of it m geeminy ! Say, are you homesick ?’ W Coning Whether [y ¢ No, I can’t say that I am. Are you?’ ¢ Oh, hell, yes!’ This with immense enthusiasm. did't come ; The Reverend shrunk a little, in his clothes, and we were schoo] books, aware, rather by instinct than otherwise, that he was throwing dort kg out signals of distress to us; but we did not interfere or try to bakergfer succour him, for we were quite happy. oy bt The young fellow hooked his arm into the Reverend’s now, ting I with the confiding and grateful air of a waif who has been long- gy ) ing for a friend, and a sympathetic ear, and a chance to lisp once ta K more the sweet accents of the mother tongue—and then he Ut Iy Pt limbered up the muscles of his mouth and turned himself loose — Cl‘llp p‘.‘l‘, flnd fI‘ ( and with such a relish ! Some of his words were not Sun- Iv T gotto gy occur. day-school words, so I am obliged to put blanks where they ‘I’IOT =8, in g ] thez) ‘Yes indeedy! RS 0”“7 JO Americans, that's all, If 7 ain’t an American there ain't any by ! And when T heard you fellows gassing b2 A TRAMP ABROAD. 99 Yl i ; g & M 6, iy away in the good old American language, I'm” ‘.;, if it wasn’t 0} 0 gy i 0] all I could do to keep from hugging you ! My tongue’s all % < I iz warped with trying to curl it around these forsaken wind-galled nine-jointed German words here; now I tell you it’s 0 3 g 1§ awful good to lay it over a Christian word once more and kind of let the old taste soak in. Pm from Western New York. My for thr, i il name is Cholley Adams. I'm a student, you know. Been here eep g tfl’k I like T ldon going on two years. I'm learning to be a horse-doctor. that part of it, you know, but these people, they won’t Ay thy ttst e learn a fellow in his own language, they make him learn in Sl , A0er wih b German ; so before I could tackle the horse-doctoring I had to 43 g tackle this miserable language. ¢ First-off, I thought it would certainly give me the botts, but I don’t mind it now. n_“]“y ! Ey T've got it where the hair’s short, I think ; and dontchuknow, they made me learn Latin, too. Now between you and me, I wouldn’t give a ~<='for all the Latin it 1 i, oy that was ever jabbered; and the first thing I calculate to do when I get through, is to just sit down and forget it. - "T'wont ¢ Reverend Lyt take me long, and I don’t mind the time, anyway. And I tell lake that e b you what! the difference between school teaching over yonder and school-teaching over here—sho ! We don’t know anything about it ! Here you’ve got to peg and peg and peg, and there just ain’t any let-up—and what you learn here, you've got to 3 imafe T heaed oo know, dontchuknow—or else you'll have one of these ~— spavined, spectacled, ring-boned, knock-kneed old professors in your hair. et long !’ I’ve been here long enough, and I'm getting blessed an o g b tired of it, mind I tell you. The old man wrote to me that he was coming over in June, and said he'd take me home in August, whether I was done with my education or not, but durn him, he didn’t come ; never said why ; just sent me a hamper of Sunday- and e et school books, and told me to be good, and hold on a while. I don’t take to Sunday-school books, dontchuknow—I don’t - e yas throri nterfere or frf hanker after them when I can get pie—but I read them, any- way, because whatever the old man tells me to do, that’s the thing I’'m a~going to do, or tear something you know. I buckled o Reverend’s,nof in and read all of those books, because he wanted me to; but ho has beel that kind of thing don’t excite me; I like something hearty. hanceto But I'm awful homesick. I’'m homesick from ear-socket to yue_—flnd th?n b crupper, and from crupper to hock joint; but it ain’t any use, o himse oo~ T've got to stay here, till the old man drops the rag and gives the g were ot 30 word—yes, sir, right here in this country I've got to Janks whett &7 linger till the old man says Come’—and you bet your bottom dollar, Jobnny, it ain’t just as easy as it is for a cat to have ] there (i it 4 twins |’ H 2 i flom 8% 100 A TRAMP ABROAD. - p al ot At the end of this profane and cordial explosion he fetched a prodigious ¢ Whoosh !’ to relieve his lungs and make recognition i ber dflm‘ {950, 119 of the heat, and then he straightway dived into his narrative again for ¢ Johnny's > benefit, beginning, ¢ Well,"*~—-—it ain’ i fherélor® oo e o0 any use of talking, some of those old American words do have a s Germanys kind of a bully swing to them; a man can express himself with ’em—a man can get at what he wants to say, dontchuknow.’ smefor anot When we reached our hotel and it seemed that he was about antinig to lose the Reverend, he showed so much sorrow, and begged so instance for Job waer OF hard and so earnestly, that the Reverend’s heart was not hard enough to hold out against the pleadings—so he went away with (Corshad 1 the parent-honouring student, like a right Christian, and took fiotiendi gav! supper with him in his lodgings and sat in the surf-beat of his They do slang and profanity till near midnight, and then left him— Trnkballe,a ofler, whilet left him pretty well talked out, but grateful ¢clear down to his frogs,” as he expressed it. The Reverend said it had transpired of hdylke f0 566 JOU=] during the interview that ¢Cholley’ Adams’s father was an extensive dealer in horses in Western New York ; this accounted By.and for Cholley’s choice of a profession. The Reverend brought siretches s away a pretty high opinion of Cholley as a manly young fellow, the for, o with stuff in him for a useful citizen ; he considered him rather such compreh a rough gem, but a gem, nevertheless. Dehind ber structed imsid her fiss jou coniempn CHAPTER XXI. Qown whers ] 5(1)'— *How my BApEN-BADEN sits in the lap of the hills, and the natural and artificial beauties of the surroundings are combined effectively ference, g bey Nuck B, and charmingly. The level strip of ground which stretches through and beyond the town is laid out in handsome plea- 1§ th sure grounds, shaded by noble trees and adorned at intervals mon bgfm(» I § with lofty and sparkling fountain-jets. Thrice a day a fine band are expeitiug makes music in the public promenade befcre the Conversation- atsa iy House, and in the afternoons and evenings that locality is popu- & rem ad C‘ lous with fashionably dressed people of both sexes, who march OF g g gy back and forth past the great music stand and look very much bored, though they make a show of feeling otherwise. It seems N B like a rather aimless and stupid existence. A good many of Wiy gy these people are there for a real purpose, however; they are JOu gl g o} racked with rheumatism, and they are there to stew it out in ansxrgr, gt | the hot baths. Ie, | These invalids looked melancholy enough, limn- fyourflas ing about on their canes and crutches, and appareuntly brooding ¥ithy T ey A TRAMP ABROAD. 101 g I T, Le TECOHn i over all sorts of cheerless things. People say that Germany, | Whl&n bligly with her damp stone houses, is the home of rheumatism, If il that is so, Providence must have foreseen that it would be S0, A orgy o and therefore filled the Jand with these healing baths. Perhaps Uress i no other country is so generously supplied with medicinal springs | do‘mehukfigw 3 as Germany. Some of these baths are good for one ailment, | 1026 b g some for another; and again, peculiar ailments are conquered by TTOW, ang ey combining the individual virtues of several different baths. For instance, for some forms of disease the patient drinks the native 1645 yygg ’ he We hot water of Baden-Baden, with a spoonful of salt from the i Carlsbad springs dissolved in it. That is not a dose to be Chrig an, g h b iy forgotten right away. They don’t sell this hot water; no, you go into the great ”l thep | ] clear do Trinkhalle, and stand around, first on one foot and then on the otlier, while two or three young girls sit pottering at some sort 0 1t bad ¢ § I of lady-like sewing work in your neighbourhood and can’t seem to see you—polite as three-dollar clerks in government offices. OIK fil 5 By-and-by one of these rises painfully, and stretches’ ;— Reverend by stretches fists and body heavenward till she raises her heels from anly FOlIngf the floor, at the same time refreshing herself with a yawn of I 110 ol such comprehensiveness that the bulk of her face disappears behind her upper lip, and one is able to see how she is con- structed inside—then she slowly closes her cavern, brings down her fists and her heels, comes languidly forward, contemplates you contemptuously, draws you a glass of hot water and sets it down where you can get it by reaching for it. You take it and say— ¢ How much ? '—and she returns you, with elaborate indif- £ N ference, a beggar’s answer— ¢ Nach Beliebe (what you please).’ nd o This thing of using the common beggar’s trick and the com- mon beggar’s shibboleth to put you on your liberality when you 4 are expecting a simple straightforward commercial transaction, adaya adds a little to your prospering sense of irritation. You ignore e her reply, and ask again— ¢ How much ?’ ho 1 and she calmly, indifferently, repeats— id ] 001; . very I ¢ Nach Beliebe. Iist hervist You are getting angry, but you are trying not to show it you resolve to keep on asking your question till she changes her A good mnf; There- Lowever; answer, or at least her annoyingly indifferent manner. g {0 o 1t 0’ fore, if your case be like mine, you two fools stand there, and oly enctd without perceptible emotion of any kind, or any emphasis on any p[;:llréud)' 102 A TRAMP ABROAD. ilnce syllable, you look blandly into each other’s eyes, and hold the ay s U2 following idiotic conversation— o s of ) ¢ How much ?’ it e &1 ¢ Nach Beliebe.’ ¢How much?’ pestljet? ¢Nach Beliebe,’ e han ¥ ¢How much?’ s W}m ¢ Nach Beliebe.’ fosed o com ¢ How much ?° i 1) uttere fporof .8 ¢ Nach Beliebe.’ ¢ How much ?’ s D ¢ Nach Beliebe.’ qud be 1) ¢ How much ?? gl Russins or ¢ Nach Beliebe.’ I do not know what another person would have done, but at {hey have I this point I gave it up; that cast-iron indifference, that tranquil fo 8 109 befone a Ba contemptuousness, conquered me, and I struck my colours. Now I knew she was used to receiving about a penny from prince! manly people who care nothing about the opinions of scullery Ttisan suobbery, b maids, and about tuppence from moral cowards; but I laid a silver twenty-five-cent piece within her reach and tried to and they v shrivel her up with this sarcastic speech— fisn uneed =] I ¢If it isn’t enough, will you stoop sufficiently from your afara for =1 official dignity to say so?’ 1 filly el She did not shrivel. Without deigning to look at me at all, Biden s el she languidly lifted the coin and bit it!—to see if it was good. gie, T Then she turned her back and placidly waddled to her former lehing by roost again, tossing the money into an open till as she went There along. She was victor to the last, you see. yeans they I have enlarged upon the ways of this girl because they are the healifig typical; her manners are the manners of a goodly number of numeroys | the Baden-Baden shopkeepers. The shopkeeper there swindles Tukue fy f you if he can, and insults you whether he succeeds in swindling Bavay iy you or not. The keepers of baths also take great and patient &0y sorf of | pains to insult you. The frowsy woman who sat at the desk in the o f lobby of the great Friederichsbad and sold bath tickets, not only insulted me twice every day, with rigid fidelity to her great the iy 0 it iy trust, but she took trouble enough to cheat me out of a shilling, 4 bow g I one day, to have fairly entitled her to ten. Baden-Baden’s Doty g { splendid gamblers are gone, only her miscroscopic knaves re- main. 01 Qg JOU oy An English gentleman who had been living there several Whigh g, years said— 8 yoq ¢If you could disguise your nationality, you would not find £ 1ogpy A TRAMP ABROAD. 103 %% ad g " any insolence here. These shopkeepers detest the English and despise the Americans ; they are rude to both , more especially to ladies of your nationality and mine. If these go shopping without a gentleman or a man servant, they are tolerably sure to be subjected to petty insolences—insolences of manner and tone rather than word, though words that are hard to bear are not always wanting. I know of an instance where a shopkeeper tossed a coin back to an American lady with the remark, snap- pishly uttered, “ We don’t take French money here.”—And I know of a case where an English lady said to one of these shop- keepers, “ Don’t you think you ask too much for this article 27 and he replied with the question, “Do you think you are obliged to buy it?” However, these people are not impolite to Russians or Germans, And as to rank, they worship that, for d bave o by ence, tha they have long been used to generals and nobles. If you wish to see to what abysses servility can descend, present yourself trck my before a Baden-Baden shopkeeper in the character of a Russian ot a pn prince.’ pinicns of It is an inane town, filled with sham, and petty fraud, and nds; but I i ach and fried snobbery, but the baths are good. I spoke with many people, and they were all agreed in that. Ihad had twinges of rheuma- tism unceasingly during three years, but the last one departed ciently from o after a fortnight’s bathing there, and I have never had one since. I fully believe I left my rheumatism in Baden.Baden. Baden- 0 Jook ot meatel Baden is welcome to it. It was little, but it was all I had to yseeif ity give. I would have preferred to leave something that was ed to ber catching, but it was not in my power. on il a8 e v There are several hot springs there, and during two thousand years they have poured forth a never-diminishing abundance of 1] becanse thy the healing water. This water is conducted in pipes to the goodly 10 numerous bath-houses, and is reduced to an endurable tempe- per here rature by the addition of cold water. The new Friederichsbad ooeeds In 81 is a very large and beautiful building, and in it one may have oteat and i any sort of bath that has ever been invented, and with all the additions of herbs and drugs that his ailment may need or that ot thede ] tickets, o o:‘.{ the physician of the establishment may consider a useful thing to put into the water. You go there, enter the great door, get ey to ber £ a bow graduated to your style and clothes from the gorgeous o of % . Baden B portier, and a bath-ticket and an insult from the frowsy woman for a quarter; she strikes a bell, and a serving-man conducts »B("OPic b ¥ you down a long hall and shuts you into a commodious room which has a washstand, a mirror, a bootjack, and a sofa in it, and ing {46 o there you undress at your leisure. The room is divided by a great curtain. You draw this cur. o would 26 g 104 A TRAMP ABROAD. tain aside, and find a large white marble bath-tub, with its rim ool e € sunk to the level of the floor, and with three white marble steps leading down into it. This tub is full of water, which is as clear Jodians MIE ] as crystal, and is tempered to 28° Réaumur (about 95° Fahren- This 19 m.my dO\YU heit). Sunk into the floor, by the tub, is a covered copper box which contains some warm towels and a sheet. You look fully jsther 8 as white as an angel when you are stretched out in that limpid saying 08 Tndians, a1 bath. You remain in it ten minutes the first time, and after- — wards increase the duration from day to day, till you reach That the ¢ twenty-five or thirty minutes. There you stop. The appoint- gl'[l s D ly,an ments of the place are so luxurious, the benefit so marked, the qmusemel price so moderate, and the insults so sure, that you very soon There e, spelt find yourself adoring the Friederichsbad and infesting it. We had a plain, simple, unpretending, good hotel in Baden- Spe o Baden—the Hotel de France— and alongside my room I had a aler o giggling, cackling, chattering family who always went to bed aguod ma Jjust two hours after me and always got up just two hours ahead Jis. fombt of me. But that is common in German hotels; the people gene- from the 1 rally go to bed long after eleven and get up long before eight. moved fror The partitions convey sound like a drum-head, and everybody fhe cemeter knows it ; but no matter, a German family who are all kindness chiseled an and consideration in the daytime make apparently no effort to fombstones 1 moderate their noises for your benefit at night. They will sing, but eurio laugh, and talk loudly, and bang furniture around in the most dvayse pitiless way. If you knock on your wall appealingly, they will ad which quiet down and discuss the matter softly amongst themselves for insrgion, a moment—then, like the mice, they fall to persecuting you quaint and again, and as vigorously as before. They keep cruelly late and early hours, for such noisy folk. than a e Of course when one begins to find fault with foreign people’s ways, he is very likely to get a reminder to look nearer home, l before he gets far with it. I open my note-book to see if I can find some more information of a valuable nature about Baden- Baden, and the first thing I fall upon is this : i Baden-Baden (no date).—Lot of vociferous Americans at breakfast this morning. Talking at everybody, while pretending to talk among themselves. On their first travels, manifestly. Showing off. The usual signs—airy, easy-going references to grand distances and foreign places. ¢ Well, good-bye, old fellow, | We g if I don’t run across you in Italy, you hunt me up in London Vi Iué.ei’ o before you sail.’ The next item which I find in my note-book is this one : Clflmlng W flog ¢ The fact that a band of 6,000 Indians are now murdering Dads gy our frontiersmen at their impudent leisure, and that we are only HI the WOI'I d. A TRAMP ABROAD. 105 by gy Whit & gy able to send 1,200 soldiers against them, is utilised here to dis- flrh courage emigration to America. The common people think the (aboy o y %on dly Indians are in New Jersey.’ L This is a new and peculiar argument against keeping our 4 Yo | 00§ fy] army down to a ridiculous figure in the matter of numbers. It 0t 1y f is rather a striking one, too. I have not distorted the truth in I tlmfl] P saying that the facts in the above item, about the army and the a )il yoy Indians, are made use of to discourage emigration to America. b} That the common people should be rather foggy in their geo- L 8 graphy, and foggy as to the location of the Indians, is matter for th amusement, maybe, but not of surprise. 40 YU very There is an interesting old cemetery in Baden-Baden, and we spent several pleasant hours in wandering through it and 0 B o my ron ]} spelling out the inscriptions on the aged tombstones. Apparently after a man has lain there a century or two, and has had Ivays et 1 o ho a good many people buried on top of him, it is considered that his tombstone is not needed by him any longer. I judge so the ey from the fact that hundreds of old gravestones have been re- Long before moved from the graves and placed against the inner walls of d, and ¢ e all kinds the cemetery. What artists they had in the old times ! They chiselled angels and cherubs and devils and skeletons on the rently no effr tombstones in the most lavish and generous way—as to supply— They will but curiously grotesque and outlandish as to form. It is not around 1o the always easy to tell which of the figures belong among the blest, wa lingly, the l and which of them among the opposite party. But there was an ,, f them inscription, in French, on one of those old stones which was 0 quaint and pretty, and was plainly not the work of any other o eruely bzt than a poet. It was to this effect :— ith foreig HERE Reroses 1N Gob, Jook nea ook fo see 12 CAROLINE DE CLERY, A RELIGIEUSE oF St. DENIS, are about Bz AGED 83 YEARS—AND BLIND. TOE LIGHT WAS RESTORED TO HER ous Ameritass ¥ IN BADEN THE 5TH OF JANUARY, . hile pretd j 1839. ravels, 10 0ing referencss We made several excursions on foot to the neighbouring jd-byey ol feH?W- I villages, over winding and beautiful roads, and through en- po 1 1 10 chanting woodland scenery. The woods and roads were similar to those at Heidelberg, but not so bewitching. I suppose that o s s 01 roads and woods which are up to the Heidelberg mark are rare ¢ 10 7 murted in the world. et ol ] that 106 A TRAMP ABROALD. Once we wandered clear away to La Favorita Palace, which goled i is several miles from Baden-Baden. g her 2€ The grounds about the ‘hatafli o palace were fine; the palace was a curiosity. It was built by a Margravine in 1725, and remains as she left it at her death. ! 1008 i i comp We wandered through a great many of its rooms, and they all had striking peculiarities of decoration. For instance, the walls ‘,‘%‘ elmhl? it of one room were pretty completely covered with small pictures s smnm o g g of the Margravine in all conceivable varieties of fanciful costumes, ke some of them male. The walls of another room were covered with grotesquely o adory fi | qanly €1 and elaborately figured hand-wrought tapestry. The musty ancient beds remained in the chambers, and their quilts and cur- In fhiil 0 i g tains and canopies were decorated with curious hand-work, and din the walls and ceilings frescoed with historical and mythological 1 have | scenes in glaring colours. There was enough crazy and rotten rubbish in the building to make the true brick-a-bracker green ald have with envy. A painting in the dining-hall verged upon the in- ey of delicate—but then the Margravine was herself a trifle indelicate. ot Tnog and It is in every way a wildly and picturesquely decorated house, and brimful of interest as a reflection of the character and tastes of that rude bygone time. In the grounds, a few rods from the palace, stands the Mar- gravine’s chapel, just as she left it—a coarse wooden structure, Trou Baden wholly barren of ornament. It is said that the Margravine would give herself up to debauchery and exceedingly fast living To \ for several months at a time, and then retire to this miserable caibe fose lim, A% wooden den and spend a few months in repenting and getting ready for another good time. She was a devoted Catholic, and tentment; was perhaps quite a model sort of a Christian as Christians went aud a thir the remef then, in high life. Tradition says she spent the last two years of her life in the ‘ tion fron strange den I have been speaking of, after having indulged her- Tl She shut self in one final, triumphant, and satisfying spree. Where thy herself up there, without company, and without even a servant, amant, and so abjured and forsook the world. In her little bit of a 1y gy kitchen she did her own cooking ; she wore a hair shirt next the st of skin, and castigated herself with whips—these aids to grace are gl gy exhibited there yet. She prayed and told her beads, in another Ininggyt | little room before a waxen Virgin niched in a little box against e i the wall ; she bedded herself like a slave. E16 g In another small room is an unpainted wooden table, and Strike the behind it sit half-life-size waxen figures of the Holy Family, el g made by the vely worst artist that ever lived, perhaps, and 1 b i Thig g b A TRAMP ABROAD. 107 ilace, Which elothed in gaudy, flimsy drapery.! The Margravine used to S aboyg fhe a8 s bring her meals to this table and dine with the Holy Family. b gy by What an idea that was! What a grisly spectacle it must have h, been ! Imagine it! Those rigid, shock-headed figures, with and they al 8, he corpsy complexions and fishy glass eyes, occupying one side of the table in the constrained attitudes and dead fixedness that m pictures distinguish all men that are born of wax, and this wrinkled, 1 costumes, smouldering old fire-eater occupying the other side, mumbling her prayers and munching her sausages in the ghostly stillness otesquely and shadowy indistinctness of a winter twilight. It makes one 6 mugy feel crawly even to think of it. s and In this sordid place, and clothed, bedded, and fed like a dwork, and pauper, this strange princess lived and worshipped during two mythologia] 1 and tottey years, and in it she died. Two or three hundred years ago, this would have made the poor den holy ground; and the church racker green would have set up a miracle-factory there and made plenty of upon the ine fl ndelicate, money out of it. The den could be moved into some portions of France and made a good property even now. ly decorated harscter and 1ds the Mar- CHAPTER XXIL en structure, T'roy Baden-Baden we made the customary trip into the Black Margravine Forest. We were on foot most of the time. One cannot des- Iy fast living his miserable cribe those noble woods, nor the feeling with which they inspire him. A feature of the feeling, however, is a deep sense of con-~ g and getiog Catholic, and tentment ; another feature of it is a buoyant, boyish gladness; ristians ent and a third and very conspicuous feature of it is one’s sense of the remoteness of the work-day world and his entire emancipa- tion from it and its affairs. er life in the Those woods stretch unbroken over a vast region; and every- ndulged - where they are such dense woods, and so still, and so piney and . She shut n 4 servath fragrant. The stems of the trees are trim and straight, and in many places all the ground is hidden for miles under a thick lttle bit of & cushion of moss of a vivid green colour, with not a decayed or hirt next e to grace are ragged spot in its surface, and not a fallen leaf or twig to mar its immaculate tidiness. A rich cathedral gloom pervades the pil- 5 in another lared aisles; so the stray flecks of sunlight that strike a trunk , box aginst here and a bough yonder are strongly accented, and when they strike the moss they fairly seem to burn. But the weirdest n table :}nd effect, and the most enchanting, is that produced by the diffused Toly Fauil ! The Saviour was represented as a lad of about fifteen years of age. ;erbaps; i This figure had lost one eye, 108 A TRAMP ABROAD. 1nge1'sB P light of the low afternoon sun ; no single ray is able to pierce its Bgcumuk{tiou‘ way in, then, but the diffused light takes colour from moss and el onnt foliage, and pervades the place like a faint, green-tinted mist, the 0 theatrical fire of fairyland. The suggestion of mystery and the o ildy The 1mpo supernatural which haunts the forest at all times is intensified fof 106 Bl by this unearthly glow. i fo rrs We found the Black Forest farmhouses and villages all that i s § the Black Forest stories have pictured them. The first genuine consid specimen which we came upon was the mansion of a rich farmer } el e et and member of the Common Council of the parish or district. 118 e was an important personage in the land, and so was his wife also, of course. His daughter was the ¢ catch’ of the region, and i she may be already entering into immortality as the heroine of one of Auerbach’s novels for all I know. We shall see, for if he i i . puts her in I shall recognise her by her Black Forest clothes, and 1 i her burned complexion, her plump figure, her fat hands, her dull AU expression, her gentle spirit, her generous feet, her bonnetless The ] head, and the plaited tails of hemp-coloured hair hanging down Pau her back. Win) The house was big enough for a hotel ; it was a hundred feet { 0A1y long and fifty wide, and ten feet high, from ground to eaves; 3 184 but from the eaves to the comb of the mighty roof was as much as forty feet, or maybe even more. This roof was of ancient s, b, yo mud-coloured straw thatch a foot thick, and was covered all over, except in a few trifling spots, with a thriving and luxurious (irechen, growth of green vegetation, mainly moss. Huss fonbi The mossless spots dien the were places where repairs had been made by the insertion of Whatis bright new masses of yellow straw. The eaves projected far [lnte down, like sheltering, hospitable wings. Across the gable that Pul | fronted the road, and about ten feet above the ground, ran a nar- row porch, with a wooden railing ; a row of small windows filled By sy, ‘T with very small panes looked upon the porch. Above were two or three other little windows, one clear up under the sharp apex { Wed manure. of the roof. Before the ground-floor door was a huge pile of P (ang, The door of a second-story room on the side of the house was open, and occupied by the rear elevation of a cow. odg {reg | Was this probably the drawing-room? All of the front half of the house from the ground up seemed to be occupied by the il i :Jhi:ing PIO people, the cows, and the chickens, and all the rear half by draught animals and hay. But the chief feature all around this e f house was the big heaps of manure. aly: We became very familiar with the fertiliser in the Forest. Uengh ay We fell unconsciously into the habit of judging of a man’s station in life by this outward and eloquent sign. Sometimes we said, i I % & My | aff ™ G A TRAMNP ABROAD. 109 g PiQTCe ity ¢ Here is a poor devil, this is manifest.” When we saw a stately L1005 g accumulation, we said, ¢ Here is a banker.’ When we encoun- mig, ¢ ) he tered a country seat surrounded by an Alpine pomp of manure, ey ang g we said, ¢ Doubtless a duke lives here.’ 3 leHSifiQd The importance of this feature has not been properly magni- fied in the Black Forest stories. Manure is evidently the Black 0esall fg I8t onyyg Forester’s main treasure—his coin, his jewel, his pride, his Old Master, his keramics, his bric-a-brac, his darling, his title to Tich fyy public consideration, envy, veneration, and his first solicitude o it when he gets ready to make his will. The true Black Forest Was his wify novel, if it is ever written, will be skeletoned somewhat in this Tegion, anq way < ¢ heroing of SKELETON FOR BrLAck Forest NOVEL. see, for if b Clothes, gng Rich old_rarmer, named Huss. Has inherited great wealth of = nds, her dy] manure, and by diligence has added to it. It is double-starred T bonnetlesy in ¢ Baedeker.’ ! The Black Forest artist paints it—his master- piece. The King comes to see it. anging down heiress. Gretchen ITuss, daughter and Paul Hoch, young neighbour, suitor for Gretchen’s band—ostensibly ; he really wants the manure. Hoch has a hundred foet d to eaves: good many cart-loads of the Black Forest currency himself, and therefore is a good catch; but he is sordid, mean, and without jas as much ) s of anclent sentiment, whereas Gretchen is all sentiment and poetry. Ians ered all over, Schmidt, young neighbour, full of sentiment, full of poetry, loves ) Gretchen, Gretchen loves him. But he has no manure. Old 1 Tnxurions Huss forbids him the house. His heart breaks, he goes away to ossless spofs die in the woods, far from the cruel world—for he says, bitterly, ) Insertion of ¢ WWhat is man, without manure?’ projected fr [Interval of six months.] e gable that Paul Hoch comes to old Huss and says, ‘I am at last as rich d, ran & nar as you required—come and view the pile.” Old Huss views it, and indowsfilled says, ‘It is sufficient—take her and be happy’—meaning Gretchen. ve were two [Interval of two weeks. sharp apes Wedding party assembled in old Huss's drawing-room ; Hoch Enter uge pile of placid and content, Gretchen weeping over her hard fate. side of the old Huss’s head book-keeper. Huss says fiercely, ‘I gave you ) of & Cov. three weeks to find out why your books don’t balance, and to vont half of prove that you are not a defaulter; the time is up—find me the ied by the missing property or you go to prison as a thief.” Book-keeper : ‘I have found it. ar half by ¢Where?’ Book-keeper: sternly—tragi- around this cally: ‘In the bridegroom’s pile !—behold the thief: see him blench and tremble !> [Sensation.] Paul Hoch: ‘Lost, lost!’ fe Foresh ! When Baedeker’s guide-books mention a thing and put two bV mn’s stfltl()ll Btars * * after it, it means ¢ well worth visiting.’— g e Saldy A TRAMP ABROAD. —falls over the cow in a swoon and is_handcuffed. Gretchen: surVI‘\'Ors! flflé fber Jands. ¢ Saved !’ TFalls over the calf in a swoon of joy, but is caught Tefollow in the arms of Hans Schmidt, who springs in at that moment. 01d Huss: ¢ What, you here, varlet ? unhand the maid and quit pureled mde iy P the place. Hans: still supporting the insensible girl: ¢ Never ! g e S8 Cruel old man, know that I come with claims which even you cannot despise.’ fpbeing $14¢ ol ate Huss: ¢ What, yow? name them. Hans: ¢ Then listen. The world had forsaken me, I forsook gt the world. I wandered in the solitude of the forest, longing for ot 808 wee By death, but finding none. I fed upon roots, and in my bitterness ol d heat I dug for the bitterest, loathing the sweeter kind. Digging, three days agone, I struck a manure mine!—a Golconda, a el e 0 limitless Bonanza of solid manure ! gmde-book ol I can buy you all, and Tfe found have mountain ranges of manure left! Ha ha! now thou smilest a smile !’ [Immense sensation.] Exhibition of speci- 115 06 thov mens from the mine. { it was the Old Huss, enthusiastically: ¢ Wake her bmuein b up, shake her up, noble young man, she is yours!’ Wedding takes place on the spot; book-keeper restored to his office and fegpntly on The Bonanza King of st o the f emoluments ; Paul Hoch led off to gaol. the Black Forest lives to a good old age, blessed with the love tage oad- of his wife and of his twenty-seven children, and the still sweeter frnisng s * roadall fo ou envy of everybody around. ~—— We took our noon meal of fried trout one day at the Plow Nowand Inn, in a very pretty village (Ottenhofen), and then went into s vork, There we found nine or the public room to rest and smoke. change my ten Black Forest grandees assembled around a table. They ntelleet th were the Common Council of the parish. They had gathered many S been i e there at eight o’clock that morning to elect a new member, and they had now been drinking beer four hoursat the new member’s anhthat g expense. They were men of fifty or sixty years of age, with tothe ordy grave, good-natured faces, and were all dressed in the costume Vouderf§ made familiar to us by the Black Forest stories: broad, round- ol slveg topped, black felt hats, with the brims curled up all around; 1y b long red waistcoats with large metal buttons, black alpaca coats There were no 1t th gy with the waists up between the shoulders. 1813 gy speeches, there was but little talk, there were no frivolities; the Council filled themselves gradually, steadily, but surely, with 8 Iool:iug\m lin, g, o0 / beer, and conducted themselves with sedate decorum, as became. dUEs hé a0] | / men of position, men of influence, men of manure. 4 ~ We had a hot afternoon tramp up the valley, along the grassy 060t knyy A A fl) 3 10 g bank of a rushing stream of clear water, past farmhouses, water- aV6 g9 mills, and no end of wayside crucifixes, and saints, and Virgins. 1t These crucifixes, etc.,are set up in memory of departed friends by g ty hlfllself i o °“"ht A TRAMP ABROAD, 111 Gretchm . survivors, and are almost as fre Ut Cight other lands. quent as telegraph poles are in % oy, We followed the carriage road, and h ad our usual luck ; we U and gy travelled under a beating sun, and alwa 1 Ve | ys saw the shade leave Y fven Jou the shady places before we could get to them. In all our wan- derings we seldom managed to strike a piece of road at its time for being shady. We had a particularly hot time of it on that 16, T fopsy particular afternoon, and with no comfort but wh at we could get out of the fact that the peasants at work ) longing oy mountain sides above our heads were e away up on the steep ven worse off than we Iy bitlterness were. By-and-by it became impossible to endure the intolerable Iggng e glare and heat any longer; so we struck across the ravine and 0loonds, o B entered the deep cool twilight of the forest, to hunt for what the jou all, and guide-book called the ¢ old road.’ oy thoy fion of Spec We found an old road, and it proved eventually to be the right one, though we followed it at the time with the conviction ¢ “Wake her that it was the wrong one. If it was the wrong one there could " Weddng is office and be no use in hurrying, therefore we did not hurry, but sat down frequently on the soft moss, and enjoyed the restful quiet and anza King of shade of the forest solitudes. There had been distractions in the vith the love carriage road—school children, peasants, wagons, troops of pedes- il sweeter trianising students from all over Germany—but we had the old road all to ourselves. b the Plow Now and then, while we rested, we watched the laborious ant en went info ound nine or at his work. I found fothing new in him—certainly nothing to change my opinion of him. It seems to me that in the matter of table, They intellect the ant must be a strangely overrated bird. During had gathered many summers now I have watched him, when I ought to have menber, and been in better business, and I have not yet come across a living ey member’s ant that seemed to have any more sense than a dead one. T refer of age, v to the ordinary ant, of course; I have hadno experience of those the costume wonderful Swiss and African ones which vote, keep drilled armies, yoad, roud- hold slaves, and dispute about religion. Those particular ants all around; may be all that the naturalist paints them, but I am persuaded alpaca coes that the average ant is a sham. — I admit higindustry, of course ; re Wete 10 he is the hardest-working creature in the worldl—when anybody solities; the is looking—but his leather-headedness is the point I make against him. He goes out foraging, he makes a capture, and then what sul'ély; bl does he do? Go home? ly asfi@@ No; he goes anywhere but home. He doesn’t know where home is. His home may be only three feet away; no matter, he can’t find it. He makes his capture, as I g thegrasy ses, Water: have said ; it is generally something which can be of no sort of use to himself or anybody else; it is usually seven times bigger nd Virgins: than it ought to be ; he hunts out the awkwardest place to take fiends 17 112 A TRAMP ABROAD. il offr hold of it; he lifts it bodily up in the air by main force, and e 48 starts—not toward home, but in the opposite direction; not g e calmly and wisely, but with a frantic haste which is wasteful of adof i his strength ; he fetches up against a pebble, and, instead of going prosed 84 around it, he climbs over it backwards, dragging his booty after and-b,V: i him, tumbles down on the other side, jumps up in a passion, gmeoll kicks the dust off his clothes, moistens his hands, grabs his pro- spot wher perty viciously, yanks it this way, then that, shoves it ahead of fhought him a moment, turns tail and lugs it after him another moment, R sorbof e gets madder and madder, then presently hoists it into the air and diection goes tearing away in an entirely new direction ; comestoa weed ; No; he must climb it, isheary ¢ it never occurs to him to go around it. valueless € and he does climb it, dragging his worthless property to the top There —which is as bright a thing to do as it would be for me to carry anto a sack of flour from Heidelberg to Paris by way of Strasburg of fully steeple. When he gets up there he finds that that is not the place ; dead, bnt takes a cursory glance at the scenery, and either climbs down again or tumbles down, and starts off once more—as usual, in a ofapea new direction. At the end of half an hour he fetches up within i on i {he air a six inches of the place he started from, and lays his burden down. Meantime, he has been over all the ground for two yards around, b@l Now he p, (i and climbed all the weeds and pebbles he came across. wipes the sweat from his brow, strokes his limbs, and then himup He traverses ing weeds marches aimlessly off, in as violent a hurry as ever. Summifs— a good deal of zig-zag country, and by-ind-by stumbles on his He does not remember to have ever seen it e confi same booty again. measured before ; he looks around to see which is not the way home, grabs his bundle, and starts. He goes through the same adventures the concly mimes y he had before; finally stops to rest, and afriend comes along. Evidently the friend remarks that a last year’s grasshopper leg is Sperking— a very noble acquisition, and inquires where he gotit. Evidently horseg fgg the proprietor does not remember exactly where he did get it, (flOt aroug Evidently the qf e jouy but thinks he got it ‘around here somewhere.’ friend contracts to help him freight it home. Then, with a It gy judgment peculiarly antic (pun not intentional), they take hold fest high“; : of opposite ends of that grasshopper leg and begin to tug with all Withog gy their might in opposite directions. Presently they take a rest, Othey idot and confer together. They decide that something is wrong, they g can’t make out what. Then they go at it again, just as before. iy > Q ame result. Mutual recriminations follow. Evidently each S0me x accuses the cther of being an obstructionist. L~ They warm up, by g ‘and the dispute ends in a fight. They lock themselves together - Jook, a Y and chew each other’s jaws for a while; then they roll and g i tumble on the ground till one loses a horn or a leg and has to LI 4 TRAMP ABROAD. 113 ()rcey i) haul off for repairs. They make up and go to work again in the 00 ot same old insane way, but the crippled ant is at a disadvantage ; astefu] of tug as he may, the other one drags off the booty and him at the dof gy end of it. Instead of giving up, he hangs on, and gets his shins 0ty oy bruised against every obstruction that comes in the way. By- 8 s, and-by, when that grasshopper leg has been dragged all over the U8 IS prg. same old ground once more, it is finally dumped at about the tahegdof spot where it originally lay. The two perspiring ants inspect it I Moment 1) thoughtfully and decide that dried grasshopper legs are a poor the i g sort of property after all, and then each starts off in a different 3t0a Weed direction to see if he can’t find an old nail or something else that 5t climb i, is heavy enough to afford entertainment and at the same time 0 the top valueless enough to make an ant want to own it. ¢ {0 carry There in the Black Forest, on the mountain side, I saw an f Strasbufg ant go through with such a performance as this with a dead spider ttho plce; of fully ten times his own weight. The spider was not quite limbs down dead, but too far gone to resist. He had a round body the size ustal, ing of a pea. The little ant—observing that I was noticing—turned 5 U Withn him on his back, sunk his fangs into his throat, lifted him into rden dow, the air, and started vigorously off with him, stumbling over rds around, little pebbles, stepping on the spider’s legs and tripping himself s, Nowhe up, dragging him backwards, shoving him bodily ahead, dragging ,and then him up stones sixinches high instead of going around them, climb- He traverses ing weeds twenty times his own height and jumping from their " mbles on his summits—and finally leaving him in the middle of the road to ever seent — be confiscated by any other fool of an ant that wanted him. i home, grabs measured the ground which this ass traversed, and arrived at o adventures the conclusion that what he had accomplished inside of twenty comues along. minutes would constitute some such job as this—relatively = speaking—for a man; to wit: to strap two eight hundred pound hopper eg horses together, carry them eightcen hundred feet, mainly over Evidently p did geth (not around) boulders averaging six feet high, and in the course 1 of the journey climb up and jump from the top of one precipice yidently fhe hen, With 8 like Niagara, and three steeples, each a hundred and twenty feet high; and then put the horses down, in an exposed place, v take hold without anybody to watch them, and go off to indulge in some g it other idiotic miracle for vanity’s sake. take @ 185} 14 Science has recently discovered that the ant does not lay up wrong, ey This will knock him out of literature anything for winter use. <t g8 befor to some extent. He does not work, except when people are fenly o warm Uy looking, and only then when the observer has a green, naturalistic look, and seems to be taking notes. This amounts to deception, ves mgethcr r and will injure him for the Sunday schools. He bas not judg- y ]'0h an This ment enough to know what is good to eat from what isn’t. é and bas®? S 114 A TRAMP ABROAD. gt & amounts to ignorance, and will impair the world's respect for ied e him. He cannot stroll around a stump and find his way home i Bakel again. This amounts to idiocy, and once the damaging fact is fora b established, thoughtful people will cease to look up to him, the e sentimental will cease to fondle him. ~His vaunted industry is pistuze but a vanity and of no effect, since he never gets home with forent § anything he starts with. This disposes of the last remnant of Tl nds b his reputation, and wholly destroys his main usefulness as a moral £ or el agent, since it will make the sluggard hesitate to go to him any f e be more. 1t is strange beyond comprehension that so manifest a humbug as the ant has been able to fool so many nations and plest ol keep it up so many ages without being found out. [t The ant is strong, but we saw another strong thing, where we had not suspected the presence of much muscular power before. A toadstool—that vegetable which springs to full growth in a single night—had torn loose and lifted a matted mass of pine = needles and dirt of twice its own bulk into the air, and supported TWs wer it there, like a column supporting a shed. Ten thousand toad- stools, with the right purchase, could lift a man, I suppose. But o fh hreakas what good would it do? we bad All our afternoon’s progress had been up hill. About five or meter, o0 half-past we reached the summit, and all of a sudden the dense curtain of the forest parted, and we looked down into a deep through and beautiful gorge and out over a wide panorama of wooded morning have mountains with their summits shining in the sun and their glade- furrowed sides dimmed with purple shade. The gorge under dotng i our feet—called Allerheiligen—afforded room in the grassy level Now at its head for a cosy and delightful human nest, shut away Walking from the world and its botherations, and consequently the monks good to blood ap of the old times had not failed to spy it out; and here were the brown and comely ruins of their church and convent to prove Vool that priests had as fine an instinct seven hundred years ago in and ungk ferreting out the choicest nooks and corners in a land as priests 1 thesapr have to-day. e —— i one fyks A big hotel erowds the ruins a little now, and drives a brisk the iy trade with summer tourists. We descended into the gorge and fl"‘PPiflg'o had a supper which would have been very satisfactory if the : And Y trout had not been boiled. The Germans are pretty sure to boil Wil gy a trout or anything else if left to their own devices. This is an King argument of some value in support of the theory that they were 804 o the original colonists of the wild islands off the coast of Scotland. 103ty A schooner laden with oranges was wrecked upon one of those 5 fifteen islands a few years ago, and the gentle savages rendered the 02t iy ) captain such willing assistance that he gave them as many Cirtaip b A TRAMP ABROAD, 115 et oy oranges as they wanted. Next day he asked them how they 12y o liked them. g fiot They shook their heads and said— ¢ Baked, they were tough ; and even boiled, they warn’t things | him1 the for a hungry man to hanker after.’ fl(hlstr)v ii We went down the glen after supper. It is beautiful—a 0mg i mixture of sylvan loveliness and craggy wildness. A limpid ehan of - torrent goes whistling down the glen, and toward the foot of it 33 mopy| winds through a narrow cleft between lofty precipices and hurls 0 him gy itself over a succession of falls. After one passes the last of manifst these he has a backward glimpse at the falls which is ve ationg gng pleasing—they rise in a seven-stepped stairway of foamy and glittering cascades, and make a picture which is as charming ) Where as it is unusual, Wer before, owth in 58 of ping CHAPTER XXIit. d supported usand toads WE were satisfied that we could walk to Oppenau in one day, pose. Bt now that we were in practice, so we set out next morning after breakfast determined to do it. It was all the way down hill, and bot five o we had the loveliest summer weather for it. So we set the pedo- n the dense meter, and then stretched away on an easy, regular stride, down nto & degp through the cloven forest, drawing in the fragrant breath of the L of woodsd morning in deep refreshing draughts, and wishing we might never their glade have anything to do for ever but walk to Oppenau, and keep on rorge e doing it, and then doing it over again. Now the true charm of pedestrianism does not lie in the sy Jevel , shuf amy walking, or in the scenery, but in the talking. The walking is good to time the movement of the tongue by, and to keep the y the monks ere ere e 4 blood and the brain stirred up and active; the scenery and the woodsy smells are good to bear in upon a man an unconscious nb to proté —~ and unobtrusive charm and solace to eye and soul and sense ; but years agoll 1 a8 prs the supreme pleasure comes from the talk. It is no matter whether one talks wisdom or nonsense, the case is the same; the bulk of iresa ik the enjoyment lies in the wagging of the gladsome jaw and the flapping of the sympathetic ear. ) gorge pll tory i 2 And what a motley variety of subjects a couple of people will casually rake over in the course of a day’s tramp! There gure 0 ol being no constraint, a change of subject is always in order, and This i1 50 a body is not likely to keep pegging at a single topic until it i they ve® grows tiresome. We discussed everything we knew, during the of Seotlnts — first fifteen or twenty minutes, that morning, and then branched e of e out into the glad, free boundless realm of the things we were not ndered the certain about. ) 8 ol 12 / \ A TRAMP ABROAD. 116 Harris said that if the best writer in the world once got the il 22 | glovenly habit of doubling up his ‘have’s’ he could never get fhedeep rid of it while he lived. That is to say, if a man gets the habit to fur ¥ of saying, ‘I should have liked to have known more about it,’ I instead of saying simply and sensibly, ‘I should have liked to aountl"}fie Harris said know more about it,” that man’s disease is incurable. ooy that this sort of lapse is to be found in every copy of every news- taking paper that has ever been printed in English, and in almost all of Jimpan our books. He said he had observed it in Kirkham’s grammar Jeaf, st and in Macaulay. Harris believed that milk-teeth are commoner litors in men’s mouths than those ¢ doubled-up have’s.’ ! I said I believed the fom 8 ¢ That changed the subject to dentistry. com] average man dreaded tooth-pulling more than amputation, and il 1 Ta that he would yell quicker under the former operation than he would under the latter. The philosopher Harris said that the of ac (7 average man would not yell in either case if he had an audience. % Then he continued : 0 ¢ When our brigade first went into camp on the Potomac we 1K ol e used to be brought up standing, occasionally, by an ear-splitting howl of anguish. That meant that a soldier was getting a tooth By pulled in a tent. But the surgeons soon changed that; they in- somers stituted open-air dentistry. There never was a howl afterwards and [ d —that is, from the man who was having the tooth pulled. At Do the daily dental hour there would always be about 500 soldiers nes!’ gathered together in the neighbourhood of that dental chair Al waiting to see the performance—and help; and the moment the chance surgeon took a grip on the candidate’s tooth, and began to lift, an)thin every one of those 500 rascals would clap his hand to his jaw and begin to hop around on one leg and howl with all the lungs ! C}l he had ! Tt It was enough to raise your hair to hear that varie- With so Al gated and enormous unanimous caterwaul burst out ! Al big and so derisive an audience as that, a sufferer wouldn’t emit {(‘ a sound though you pulled his head off. The surgeons said that ‘No pretty often a patient was compelled to laugh, in the midst of his firg fi pangs, but that they had never caught one crying out, after the 18 whgt open-air exhibition was instituted.’ (““ Dental surgeons suggested doctors, doctors suggested death, tlm death suggested skeletons—and so, by a logical process, the con- il versation melted out of one of these subjects and into the next, il 1 T do not know that there have not been moments in the course of ‘o the present session when I should have been very glad to have accepted the proposal of my noble friend, and to have exchanged parts in some N0yt l0\ of our evenings of work.—[From a speech of the English Chancellor N of the Exchequer, August 1879.] dis o A TRAMP ABROAD. iy lee 2ot the Tever ot until the topic of skeletons raised up Nicodemus Dodge out nt 3 he hapy —— the deep grave in my memory where he had lain buried and forget- & aboyg ten for twenty-five years. When I wasa boy in a printing office o ke ¢ in Missouri, a loose-jointed, long-legged, two-headed, jeans-clad, s g eountrified cub of about sixteen lounged in one day, and withous EVery ngys. removing his hands from the depths of his trousers pockets, or ot ] s taking off his faded ruin of a slouch hat, whose broken brim hung 'S gtotumgy limp and ragged about hiseyes and ears like a bug-eaten cabbage '€ Commopey leaf, stared indifferently around, then leaned his hip against the e editor’s table, crossed his mighty brogans, aimed at a distant fly believed tho from a crevice in his upper teeth, laid him low and said with composure— tation, an{ ¢ Whar’s the boss?’ fion tha by ald that the ¢TI am the boss,’ said the editor, following this curious bit an andience, of architecture wonderingly along up to its clock-face with his . eye. ‘Don’t want anybody fur to learn the business, ’t aint Potomacy likely ?° ear-spliting . ol ¢ Well, I don’t know. Would you like to learn it ?’ ',‘Ulflg at ¢ Pap’s so po’ he cain’t run me no mo’, so want to git a show at; they in — 1 afterwards somers if I kin, ’tain’t no diffunce what—I’m strong and hearty, and I don’t turn my back on no kind of work, hard nur soft.’ pulled, & ‘Do you think you would like to learn the printing busi- 500 soldies Qental char ness?’ A ¢ Well, I don’t re’ly k'yer a durn what I do learn, so’s I git a ) moment = '. chance fur to make my way. T’d jist as soon learn printn ’s hegan to any thing.’ nd fo b ¢ Can you read ? * all the lungs ¢ Yes—middlin’.! ar hat vaie ¢ Write ?? ) Witho ouldn’t ¢ ) = ¢ Well, I’ve seed people could lay over me thar.’ ¢ Cipher ?° ons said thif ¢ Not good enough to keep store, I don’t reckon, but up as pidst of b fur as twelve-times-twelve I ain’t no slouch. "Tother ride of that ut afer is what gits me.’ ¢ Where is your home ?’ ested deal ‘I'm m old Shelby.’ ess, the o ¢ What’s your father’s religious denomination ? ’ o the 1exh ¢Him ? O, he’s a blacksmith.’ )§ f ‘No, no—I don’t mean his trade. What's his religious de- ) he course? | nomination ?? have aP 1 He’s a Freemason.’ s in SOD® ¢ O—I didn’t understand you befo’. d Chancellr ¢ No—no, you don’t get my meaning yet. What I mean is, does he belong to any clhurch?’ = A TRAMP ABROAD. 118 (ned ¢ Now you're talkin’! Couldn’t make out what you was a Ified’ hls tryin’ to get through yo' head no way. Blong to a church! Why, boss, he’s ben the pizenest kind of a Free-will Babtis’ for i i At forty year. They ain’t no pizener ones n’ what he is. Mighty el good man, pap is. Everybody says that. If they said any diffrunt they wouldn’t say it whar I wuz—not much they nightl ¥ wouldn’t.’ The oK ellrof ¢ What is your own religion ?”’ - il o ¢ Well, boss, you've kind o’ got me thar—and yit you hain’t got me so mighty much, nuther. I think ’t if a feller he’ps member another feller when he’s in trouble, and don’t cuss, and don’t do youd b yaterdn no mean things, nur noth’n’ he ain’t no business to do, and don’t Bt spell the Savior’s name with a little g, he ain’t runnin’ no resks —he’s about as saift as if he b’longed to a church.’ that bro Jong tim ¢ But suppose he did spell it with a little g—what then 7’ comfort ¢Well, if he done it a-purpose, I reckon he wouldn’t stand no chance—he oughtn't to have no chance, anyway, I'm most rotten stecess certain *bout that.’ Bispert came i ¢What is your name?’ ¢ Nicodemus Dodge.’ pl‘OpGSéC ¢I think maybe you’ll do, Nicodemus, We'll give you a was QI of the | trial, anyway.’ drunka ¢ All right.! ¢ When would you like to begin ?° Jimny ¢ Now.” compet So within ten minutes after we had first glimpsed this non- night descript he was one of us, and with his coat off and hard at it. whisky Beyond that end of our establishment which was furthest ship tonin from the street was a deserted garden, pathless, and thickly grown with the bloomy and villanous ¢jimpson’ weed and its Th ¢ommon friend the stately sunflower. In the midst of this Nicods mournful spot was a decayed and aged little ¢ frame’ house, with reepiy but one room, one window, and no ceiling—it had been a smoke- foward house a generation before. Nicodemus was given this lonely and eeped ghostly den as a bedchamber. very sh The village smarties recognised a treasure in Nicodemus, Contentg right away—a butt to play jokes on. It was easy to gee that he o By was inconceivably green and confiding. George Jones had the againgt glory of perpetrating the first joke on him; he gave him a cigar iy with a fire-cracker in it and winked to the crowd to come; the of oy thing exploded presently and swept away the bulk of Nicodemus’s g gg eyebrows and eyelashes. He simply said— j skeltoy ¢I consider them kind of seeg’yars dangersome ’—and seemed the el to suspect nothing. The next evening Nicodemus waylaid George a bucket of ice-water over him, »»Just . A TRAMP ABROAD. 119 00 gg | Churgh ) One day, while Nicodemus was in swimming, 'Tom McElroy abtis for “tied " his clothes. Nicodemus made a bonfire of Tom’s, by way of retaliation. S gy A third joke was played upon Nicodemus, a day or two later —he walked up the middle aisle of the village church, Sunday ich they night, with a staring handbill pinned between his shoulders. The joker spent the remainder of the night, after church, in the you haip's cellar of a deserted house, and Nicodemus sat on the cellar door till toward breakfast time to make sure that the prisoner re- ellr hes membered that if any noise was made some rough treatment d doxt gy would be the consequence. , and dop't The cellar had two feet of stagnant water in it, and was bottomed with six inches of soft mud. 100 Tesk But I wander from the point. Itwas the subject of skeletons that brought this boy back to my recollection. then ! Before a very 't stand g long time had elapsed, the village smarties began to feel an un- comfortable consciousness of not having made a very shining most rotten success out of their attempts on the simpleton from ¢old Shelby.’ came to the rescue. Experimenters grew scarce and chary. Now the young doctor There was delight and applause when he proposed to scarce Nicodemus to death, and explained how he give you s = was going to do it. He had a noble new skeleton—the skeleton of the late and only local celebrity, Jimmy Finn, the village drunkard—a grisly piece of property which he had bought of Jimmy Finn himself, at auction, for fifty dollars, under great competition, when Jimmy lay very sick in the tan-yard a fort- ed this non- night before his death. The fifty dollars had gone promptly for hard ab it whisky, and had considerably hurried up the change of owner- was furthes ship in the skeleton. The doctor would put Jimmy Finn's skele- ton in Nicodemus’s bed ! and thickly veed and 1 This was done—about half-past ten in the evening. About idst of fhs Nicodemus’s usual bedtime—midnight—the village jokers came house, with creeping stealthily through the jimpson weeds and sunflowers en & smoke- toward the lonely frame den. They reached the window and s Jonely an peeped in. There sat the long-legged pauper, on his bed, in a very short shirt, and nothing more; he was dangling his legs Nicodemtsy contentedly back and forth, and wheezing the music of ¢ Camp- ) gee fhat he - town Races’ out of a paper-overlaid comb which he was pressing against his mouth; by him lay a new jewsharp, a new top, a yos had e him a 0B solid india-rubber ball, a handful of painted marbles, five pounds ) come; t‘e > of ‘storé’ candy, and a well-gnawed slab of gingerbread as big = and as thick as a volume of sheet music. He had sold the Nicodemss skeleton to a travelling quack for three dollars and was enjoying the result ! nd seened Just as we had finished talking about skeletons and were i pid Gennse = ~ 120 A TRAMP ABROAD. o drifting into the subject of fossils, Harris and I heard a shout, domete and glanced up the steep hillside. We saw men and women ke it standing away up there looking frightened, and there was a bulky o aub object tumbling and floundering down the steep slope toward us. {stanee We got out of the way, and when the object landed in the road it proved to be a boy. ITe had tripped and fallen, and there was nothing for him to do but trust to luck and take what might come. When one starts to roll down a place like that there is no Tt ¥ stopping till the bottom is reached. Think of people furming on ere ¢ a slant which is so steep that the best you can say of it—if you he want to be fastidiously accurate—is, that it is a little steeper than feartl a ladder and not quite so steep as a mansard roof. DBut that is Sunday what they do. Some of the little farms on the hillside opposite e Heidelberg were stood up ‘edgeways.” The boy was wonder- with 0 fully jolted up, and his head was bleeding from cuts which it €30 had got from small stones on the way. g V) |l Harris and I gathered him up and set him on a stone, and bappy by that time the men and women had scampered down and brought his cap, \\‘HhO}l! e Men, women, and children flocked out from neighbouring forbids cottages and joined the crowd; the pale boy was petted, and C0mma stared at, and commiserated, and water was brought for him to mand drink, and bathe his bruises in. And such another clatter of Commé tongues ! All who had seen the catastrophe were describing it “rest! at once, and each trying to talk louder than his neighbour; and one youth of a superior genius ran a little way up the hill, called stay i and attention, tripped, fell, rolled down among us, and thus tri- and o umphantly showed exactly how the thing had been done. Harris and I were included in all the descriptions: how we and Thug were coming along; how Hans Gross shouted; how we looked will up startled; how we saw Peter coming like a cannon-shot; how judiciously we got out of the way and let him come; and with lim ty bty what presence of mind we picked him up and brushed him off, and set him on a rock when the performance was over. We himy; were as much heroes as anybody else, except Peter, and were so tothe recognised ; we were taken with Peter and the populace to Peter’s ing at mother’s cottage, and there we ate bread and cheese, and drank fregs g g milk and beer with everybody, and had a most sociable good time; and when we left we had a hand-shake all around, and other were receiving and shouting back Leb’ woll’s until a turn in the by adg road separated us from our cordial and kindly new friends for ever. EXerti We accomplished our undertaking. At half-past eight in “’hfch 1 the evening we stepped into Oppenau, just eleven hours and a by, ”IPI A TRAMP ABROAD. 121 4 shout1 half out from Allerheiligen—146 miles. This is the distance by Womgy pedometer; the guide-book and the Imperial Ordnance maps 34 bulky make it only ten and a quarter—a surprising blunder, for these OWar g, two authorities are usually singularly accurate in the matter of Lfhe 1) distances. and thep that i - CHAPTER XXIV. !16 [i .re.is J0) ing on [~ Tuar was a thoroughly satisfactory walk, and the only one we it~ifyo were ever to have which was all the way down hill. We took eeper than the train next morning and returned to Baden-Baden through DUt hat i o fearful fogs of dust. Every seat was crowded, too, for it was lo opp OSLEE ..... Sunday, and consequently everybody was taking a ¢pleasure’ 1S Wonder- excursion. Hot ! the sky was an oven, and a sound one, too, S Which it with no cracks in it to let in any air. An odd time for a pleasure excursion, certainly. stone, and Sunday is the great day on the Continent—the free day, the down and happy day. One can break the Sabbath in a hundred ways without committing any sin. ighbouring We do not work on Sunday, because the commandment elted, and forbids it; the Germans do not work on Sunday, because the for him to commandment forbids it. We rest on Sunday, because the com- mandment requires it; the Germans rest on Sunday, because the v cltter of eseribing i commandment requires it. But in the definition of the word ‘rest’ lies all the difference. With us, its Sunday meaning is, thour; and ill called stay in the house and keep still; with the Germans its Sunday and week-day meaning seems to be the same—rest the tired part, d thos tri 0ne. and never mind the other parts of the frame; rest the tired part, s how e and use the means best calculated to rest that particular part. Thus, if one’s duties have kept him in the house all the week, it e looked will rest him to be out on Sunday; if his duties have required shot; hov him to read weighty and serious matter all the week, it will rest gnd with him to read light matter on Sunday; if his occupation has busied \ed him Ofiy him with death and funerals all the week, it will rest him to go over. We to the theatre Sunday night and put in two or three hours laugh- nd were ing at a comedy; if he is tired with digging ditches or felling 1 fo Defr trees all the week, it will rest him to lie quiet in the house on qud drank Sunday; if the hand, the arm, the brain, the tongue, or any ciable g0 other member is fatigued with inanition, it is not to be rested round, & by adding a day’s inanition; but if a member is fatigued with urm o €2 exertion, inanition is the right rest for it. Such is the way in s for e which the Germans seem to define the word ‘rest,’ that is to g eight say, they rest a member by recreating, recuperating, restoring its ours A 122 A TRAMP ABROAD. forces. But our definition is less broad. We all rest alike on mye thos Sunday,—by secluding ourselves and keeping still, whether that oy feD The Germans is the surest way to rest the most of us or not. it make the actors, the preachers, etc., work on Sunday., We en- 30“11 o pd o courage the preachers, the editors, the printers, etc., to work on Sunday, and imagine that none of the sin of it falls upon us; but fle W I do not know how we are going to get around the fact that if it wholly is wrong for the printer to work at his trade on Sunday, it must TS be equally wrong for the preacher to work at his, since the com- suappl mandment has made no exception in his favour. We buy soutd) Monday morning’s paper and read it, and thus encourage Sunday Onstil printing. But I shall never do it again. rached The Germans remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy, by ate PeC abstaining from work, as commanded; we keep it holy by ab- slien staining from work as commanded, and by also abstaining from before play, which is not commanded. Perhaps we constructively break pxrted‘ the command to rest, because the resting we do is in most cases uupiy only a name, and not a fact. ture {0 These reasonings have sufficed, in a measure, to mend the o mys rent in my conscience which I made by travelling to Baden- Qoo Baden that Sunday. We arrived in time to furbish up and get We arrived in wih 1 to the English church before services began. Th considerable style, too, for the landlord had ordered the first alkeg carriage that could be found, since there was no time to lose, and N our coachman was so splendidly liveried that we were probably mistaken for a brace of stray dukes; else why were we honoured el ?hnt I with a pew all to ourselves, away up among the very elect at the left of the chancel? That was my first thought. In the pew 0T hdy directly in front of us sat an elderly lady, plainly and cheaply ad b dressed ; at her side sat a young lady with a very sweet face, and she also was quite simply dressed; but around us and about ers us were clothes and jewels which it would do anybody’s heart Lokt good to worship in. I thought it was pretty manifest that the elderly laday was barr i Thad embarrassed at finding herself in such a conspicuous place ar- rayed in such cheap apparel ; I began to feel sorry for her and T troubled about her. She tried to seem very busy with her s, of ¢ i prayer-book and her responses, and unconscious that she was out of place, but I said to myself, ¢ She is not succeeding,—there is I the ¢ a distressed tremulousness in her voice which betrays increasing embarrassment.’ Presently the Saviour’s name was mentioned, 106 gf and in her flurry she lost her head completely, and rose and ferg curtsied, instead of making a slight nod as everybody else did. Th ear ) The .s.yx_l.npathetic blood surged to my temples and I turned and told, A TRAMP ABROAD. 123 filike on et (g gave those fine birds what I intended to be a beseeching look, but g my feelings got the better of me and changed it into a look '8 en. which said, ¢ If any of you pets of fortune laugh at this poor Vork gp soul, you will deserve to be flayed for it.’ Things went from U5 bnp bad to worse, and I shortly found myself mentally taking tat f § the unfriended lady under my protection. My mind was it mgg wholly upon her, I forgot all about the sermon. Her embar- the cop. rassment took stronger and stronger hold upon her; she got to We by snapping the lid of her smelling bottle,—it made a loud sharp 5 Sunday sound, but in her trouble she snapped and snapped away, un- conscious of what she was doing. The last extremity was reached when the collection-plate began its rounds; the mode- holy, by J byab- rate people thréw in pennies, the nobles and the rich contributed ing from silver, but she laid a twenty-mark gold piece upon the book-rest before her with a sounding stap ! I said to myself, ¢ She has ey breafi ¢ q parted with all her little hoard to buy the consideration of these unpitying people,—it is a sorrowful spectacle.” I did not ven- mend the ture to look around this time; but as the service closed I said ) Baden- to myself, ¢ Let them laugh, it is their opportunity ; but at the p and get door of this church they shall see her step into our fine carriage mived in with us, and our gaudy coachman shall drive her home.’ Then she rose,—and all the congregation stood while she the first lose, and walked down the aisle. She was the Empress of Germany ! No, she had not been so much embarrassed as I had sup- probably honoured posed. My imagination had got started on the wrong scent, and Ject a6 the that is always hopeless; one is sure, then, to go straight on mis- interpreting everything, clear through to the end. The young ) the pew d cheaply lady with her Imperial Majesty was a maid of honour,—and I had been taking her for one of her boarders, all the time. eet face This is the only time I have ever had an Empress under my and abont personal protection ; and, considering my inexperience, I wonder I should have been a little em- Iy's heart I got through with it so well. barrassed myself if I had known earlier what sort of a contract Judy was I had on my hands. place ar- We found that the Empress had been in Baden-Baden several 7 her and days. It is said that she never attends any but the English form with her of church service. g Was ous Ilay a-bed and read and rested from my journey’s fatigues there s the remainder of that Sunday, but I sent my agent to represent neteasing me at the afternoon service, for I never allow anything to inter- entionety fere with my habit of attending church twice every Sunday. 10s6 40 There was a vast crowd in the public grounds that night to else did. This piece tells one of hear the band play the ¢ Fremersberg.’ [rned an f 5 the old legends of the region: how a great noble of the Middle 124 A TRAMP ABROAD. i e Ages got lost in the mountains, and wandered about with hLis fing ! dogs in a violent storm, until at last the faint tones of a monas- uppgr fi tery bell, calling the monks to a midnight service, caught his know £ ear, and he followed the direction the sounds came from and was saved. A beautiful air ran through the music, without ceasing ; of ther atione sometimes loud and strong, sometimes so soft that it could hardly A be distinguished,—but it was always there; it swung grandly Tume! along through the shrill whistling of the storm-wind, the rat- Ruskin tling patter of the rain, and the boom and crash of the thunder it wound soft and low through the lesser sounds, the distant Bl {lrows fhrow ones, such as the throbbing of the convent bell, the melodious winding of the hunter’s horn, the distressed baying of his dogs, ultiva g y@l and the solemn chanting of the monks; it rose again, with a mixed jubilant ring, and mingled itself with the country songs and E him— dances of the peasants assembled in the convent hall to cheer up unfoa the rescued huntsman while he ate his supper. The instruments imitated all these sounds with a marvellous exactness. More than (R0) fure one man started to raise his umbrella when the storm burst forth and the sheets of mimic rain came driving by ; it was hardly rigid enabl possible to keep from putting your hand to your hat when the fierce wind began to rage and shriek; and it was not¢ possible to [am¢ fook 4 refrain from starting when those sudden and charmingly real confy thundercrashes were let loose. I suppose the Fremersberg is very low-grade music ; I know, tortol el indeed, that it must be low-grade music, because it so delighted me, warmed me, moved me, stirred me, uplifted me, enraptured Itho woul me, that I was full of cry all the time, and mad with enthusiasm. My soul had never had such a scouring out since I-was born. a1 I The solemn and majestic chanting of the monks was not done by instruments, but by men’s voices; and it rose and fell, and o rose again in that rich confusion of warring sounds, and pulsing be 1 Neit bells, and the stately swing of that ever-present enchanting air, and it seemed to me that nothing but the very lowest of low- char s, grade music could be so divinely beautiful. The great crowd which the Fremersberg had called out was another evidence that and it was low-grade music ; for only the few are educated up to a tally point where high-grade music gives pleasure. I have never ot heard enough classic music to be able to enjoy it. I dislike the anyh opera because I want to love it and can’t. I suppose there are two kinds of music,—one kind which 1 Gl one feels, just as an oyster might, and another sort which re- ety quires a higher faculty, a faculty which must be assisted and developed by teaching. Yet if base music gives certain of us Often, ner e wings, why should we want any other? But we do. We want ey A TRAMP ABROAD. 12 With iy it because the higher and better like it. But we want it without | Mopgg. giving it the necessary time and trouble; so we climb into that gt b I g Wag upper tier, that dress circle, by a lie; we pretend we like it. know several of that sort of people,—and I propose to be one Casing : of them myself when I get home with my fine European edu- 4 hardly cation. frang And then there is painting. What a red rag is to a bull, % , 16 1af Mr. hum r: Turner’s ¢ Slave Ship’ was to me before I studied Art. Ruskin is educated in art up to a point where that picture 1 disyrg throws him into as mad an ecstasy of pleasure as it used to elodiong throw me into one of rage, last year, when I was ignorant. His is dogs cultivation enables him—and me, now—to see water in that glar- I, With 3 ing yellow mud, and natural effects in those lurid explosions of 0ngs and mixed smoke and flame, and crimson sunset glories; it reconciles ) heer up him,—and me, now,—to the floating of iron cable-chains and other IStrumenty unfloatable things; it reconciles us to fishes swimming around More than on top of the mud,—I mean the water. The most of the pic- urst forth ture is a manifest impossibility,—that is to say, a lie; and only fas hardly rigid cultivation can enable a man to find truth in a lie. But it when the enabled Mr. Ruskin to do it, and it has enabled me to do it, and 0ssible to I am thankful for it. A Boston newspaper reporter went and ingly real took a look at the Slave Ship floundering about in that fierce conflagration of reds and yellows, and said it reminded him of a 1 Tknow, tortoise-shell cat having afit in a platter of tomatoes. In my then ) deighted uneducated state, that went home to my non-cultivation, and I thought here is a man with an unobstructed eye. Mr. Ruskin enrapiurel That is what I would nthusiast, would have said: This person is an ass. [ yras borm say, now.! However, our business in Baden-Baden this time was to g 1ot done d fell, and join our courier. Ihad thought it best to hire one, as we should be in Italy by-and-by, and we did not know that language. nd pulsing Neither did he. nting ait We found him at the hotel, ready to take st of lovr- charge of us. I asked him if he was “all fixed. He said he was. That was very true. He had a trunk, two small satchels, eat cond and an umbrella. dence that I was to pay him 55 dollars a month and railway fares. On the Continent the railway fare on a trunk is od uptoa about the same as it is on a man. ave never Couriers do not have to pay disike the any board and lodging. This seems a great saving to the tourist— ! Months after this was written, I happened into the National ind which Gallery in London, and soon became so fascinated with the Turner which zee pictures that I could hardly get away from the place. I went there gisted and often, afterward, meaning to see the rest of the gallery, but the Tur- fain of 1 ner spell was too strong; it could not be shaken off. However, the Turners which attracted me most did not remind me of the Slave Ship. Ve waak 126 A TRAMP ABROAD. pls? at first. It does not occur to the tourist that somebody pays that man’s board and lodging. It occurs to him by-and-by, 5‘)0It 0} however, in one of his lucid moments, i expOS‘ . eect e bare 40 CHAPTER XXV. suliers flo L NExT morning we left in the train for Switzerland, and reached Lucerne about ten o’clock at night. The first discovery I made witha was that the beauty of the lake had not been exa O fox gerated. o o Within a day or two I made another discovery. This was, that iy 0 the lauded chamois is not a wild goat; that it is not a horned (it there 4 animal; that it is not shy; that it does not avoid human society ; and that there is no peril in hunting it. The chamois is a black idges or brown creature no bigger than a mustard seed; you do not Beary have to go after it, it comes after you; it arrives in vast herds ong b and skips and scampers all over your body, inside your clothes; has ne thus it is not shy, but extremely sociable ; it is not afraid of cannof man, on the contrary it will attack him ; its bite is not dangerous, otels but neither is it pleasant; its activity has not been overstated,— a0k o if you try to put your finger on it, it will skip a thousand times likea, its own length at one jump, and no eye is sharp enough to see board, where it lights. A great deal of romantic nonsense has been DUSES written about the Swiss chamois and the perils of hunting it, on the whereas the truth is that even women and children hunt it, and the ol fearlessly ; indeed, everybody hunts it; the hunting is going on 10 all the time, day and night, in bed and out of it. It is poetic with | foolishness to hunt it with a gun; very few people do that ; 0De §¢ It there is not one man in a million who can hit it with a gun. TOV-y is much easier to catch it than it is to shoot it, and only the flfl}’ W experienced chamois hunter can do either. Another common baleon piece of exaggeration is that about the ¢scarcity ” of the chamois. comfr It is the reverse of scarce. Droves of 100,000,000 chamois are it i not unusual in the Swiss hotels. Indeed, they are so numerous 1o as to be a great pest. The romancers always dress up the 0oty chamois hunter in a fanciful and picturesque costume, whereas ety the best way to hunt this game is to do it without any costume at all. stock, The article of commerce called chamois skin is another 0 b fraud ; nobody could skin a chamois, it is too small. The 4 Comg creature is a humbug in every way, and everything which has ot thy been written about it is sentimental exaggeration. It was no pleasure to me to find the chamois out, for he had been one of the fy aud by my pet illusions; all my life it had been my dream to see him Bluck jy A TRAMP ABROAD. b 127 Ody pays Y-and.by m his native wilds some day, and engage in the adventurous sport of chasing him from cliff to cliff. It is no pleasure to me to expose him now, and destroy the reader’s delight in him and respect for him ; but still it must be done, for when an honest writer discovers an imposition it is his simple duty to strip it bare and hurl it down from its place of honour, no matter who suffers by it: any other course would render him unworthy of the public confidence. 0 tegghed €y I mady Lucerne is a charming place. It begins at the water’s edge, with a fringe of hotels, and scrambles up and spreads itself over Xagoeratel, 8 s, that two or three sharp hills in a crowded, disorderly, but picturesque 0t & hormeq way, offering to the eye a heaped-up confusion of red roofs, quaint gables, dormer windows, toothpick steeples, with here and an scietys 315 8 black there a bit of ancient embattled wall bending itself over the ridges, worm-fashion, and here and there an old square tower of you do nos ) vast herds heavy masonry. And also here and there a town clock with only one hand—a hand which stretches straight across the dial and our clothes: has no joint in it; such a clock helps out the picture, but you 06 affaid of cannot tell the time of day by it. Between the curving line of bdungerons hotels and the lake is a broad avenue with lamps and a double verstated,— rank of low shade trees. The lake front is walled with masonry sand times like a pier, and has a railing to keep people from walking over- ugh to ¢ board. All day long the vehicles dash along the avenue, and 5o has been nurses, children, and tourists sit in the shade of the trees, or lean hunting i on the railing and watch the schools of fishes darting about in hrunt if, 2nd the clear water or gaze out over the lake at the stately border of i goingon snow-hooded mountain peaks. Little pleasure-steamers, black It is poet with people, are coming and going all the time; and everywhere le do that one sees young girls and young men paddling about in fanciful ha g, It row-boats, or skimming along by the help of sails when there is nd ouly the any wind. The front rooms of the hotels have littls railed Jer comuon balconies, where one may take his private luncheon in calm cool e chamos comfort and look down upon this busy and pretty scene and enjoy chamois ar® it without having to do any of the work connected with it. 0 pumerets Most of the people, both male and female, are in walking o5 Up {08 costume, and carry alpenstocks. Evidently it is not considered safe to go about in Switzerland, even in town, without an alpen- me, Whetes 2 stock. n costume If the tourist forgets, and comes down to breakfast with- 3 another out his alpenstock, he goes back and gets it, and stands it up in a corner. When his touring in Switzerland is finished, he does all T8 - yhich 1S not throw that broomstick away, but lugs it home with him, to sy the far corners of the earth, although this costs him more trouble been 0n¢’? and bother than a baby or a courier could. You see, the alpen- o e stock is his trophy ; his name is burned upon it; and if he has 4 TRAMP ABROAD. and Sfl}'y “Y! climibed a hill, or jumped a brook, or traversed a brickyard with P it, he has the names of those places burned upon it, too. Thus hen be it is his regimental flag, so to speak, and bears the record of his g achievements. It is worth three francs when he buys it, but a [ sdy bonanza could not purchase it after his great deeds have been There are artisans all about Switzerland b Tsee ) inscribed upon it. whose trade it is to burn these things upon the alpenstock of the 108 afral'd‘q tourist. And observe, a man is respected in Switzerland accord- young ng." The thi ing to his alpenstock. I found I could get no attention there while I carried an unbranded one. However, branding is not addoess her if e it expensive, so I soon remedied that. The effect upon the next detachment of tourists was very marked. I felt repaid for my Qecelving trouble. fioned a8 ot Half of the summer horde in Switzerland is made up of Iy il 4 English people ; the other half is made up of many nationalities, The her, ”a‘n 1y the Germans leading and the Americans coming next. Americans were not as numerous as I had expected they would chaimed— be. s The 7.80 table d’héte at the great Schweitzerhof furnished a suid 1t mighty array and variety of nationalities, but it offered a better did w'oulxl T Id opportunity to observe costumes than people, for the multitude sat at immensely long tables, and therefore the faces were mainly oft 1000 odd it 1= seen in perspective; but the breakfasts were served at small round tables, and then if one had the fortune to get a table in 4%l | This the midst of the assemblage he could have as many faces to study as he could desire. We used to try to guess out the nationalities, for an ing Sometimes we tried to and [ sof ¢ and generally succeeded tolerably well. guess people’s names, but that was a failure; that is a thing wasin, | which probably requires a good deal of practice. We presently Thadnoj One with i, dropped it and gave our efforts to less difficult particulars. morning I said :— seenery, t that I g ¢ There is an American party.’ Harris said,— along Uon ¢ Yes, but name the State. ‘0 deg I named one State, Harris named another. We agreed upon forward by one thing, however, that the young girl with the party was very 0 {lfm beautiful, and very tastefully dressed. But we disagreed as to Washed e her age. I said she was eighteen, Harris said she was twenty. then [ The dispute between us waxed warm and I finally said, with a ‘:\Hd d pretence of being in earnest— d oy g, ¢ Well, there is one way to settle the matter—I will go and Tndegg ask her. fEI‘ Ve Harris said, sarcastically, ¢ Certainly, that is the thing to do. Yisa b All you need to do is to use the common formula over here: go UP]' bU”c( A TRAMP ABROAD. 129 ki i 0, Thyg and say, “I'm an American!” Of course she will be glad to 0 f 1 see you.’ Then he hinted that perhap Iy 1“, bt 3 s there was no great danger of my S BaYe fggy venturing to speak to her. I said, ‘I was only talking—T didn’t intend to approach her, Vitzerayg Dstock of the but I see you do not know what an intrepid person I am. I am not afraid of any woman that walks. I will go and speak to this and aggny. young girl.’ tention (e The thing I had in my mind was not difficult, I meant to uding i 1 pon the peyg address her in the most respectful way and ask her to pardon me if her strong resemblance to a former acquaintance of mine was epaid for y deceiving me; and when she should reply that the name I men- tioned was not the name she bore, I meant to beg pardon again, mad p of most respectfully, and retire. There would be no harm done. ationalitiey I walked to her table, bowed to the gentleman, then turned to ? next, The her, and was about to begin my little speech when she ex- claimed— o they woul ‘I knew I wasn’t mistaken—1I told John it was you! John f furnished s m said it probably wasn’t, but 1 xnew I was right. I said you fered a betta would recognize me presently and come over ; and I'm glad you the mulfituds did, for I shouldn’t have felt much flattered if you had gone out Were mainl of this room without recognizing me. Sit down, sit down—how ved at smil - \ odd it is—you are the last person I was ever expecting to sce et 4 tab I o again.’ faces to This was a stupefying surprise. It took my wits clear away o nationaliies for an instant. However, we shook hands cordially all round, 13 e fried o and I sat down. But truly this was the tightest place I ever hat is & thing was in. I seemed to vaguely remember the girl’s face now, but We presnty with it. I had no idea where I had seen it before, or what name belonged tionlars, (e I immediately tried to get up a diversion about Swiss scenery, to keep her from launching into topics that might betray that I did not know her, but it was of no use, she went right along upon matters which interested her more. €O dear, what a night that was, when the sea washed the forward boats away,—do you remember it?’ » agteed 11 €0, donlt T1” said I,—but I didn’t. I wished the sea had arty Was 1E( washed the rudder and the smoke-stack and the captain away,— saoreed 880 ] yas e then I could have located this questioner. ‘And don’t you remember how frightened poor Mary was, i, i and how she cried?’ ‘Indeed I do!’ said 1. ¢ Dear me, how it all comes back !* I will g0 ad » I fervently wished it would come back,—but my memory was a blank. The wise way would have been to frankly own thing tod ver here: up; but I could not bring myself to do that, after the young X A TRAMP ABROAD. keep by girl had praised me so for recognizing her; so I went on, deeper qUuse he and deeper into the mire, hoping for a chance clue, but never et Ton! getting one. The Unrecognizable continued, with vivacity,— ) pfll ¢ Do you know, George married Mary, after all?’ ¢Why, no'! Did he?’ (\e)} ¢ Indeed he did. He said he did not believe she was half as You T much to blame as her father was, and I thought he was right. Didn’t you?’ G d I always You ¢ Of course he was. It was a perfectly plain case. said so.’ pind! I 4 an ¢ Why no you didn’t !—at Jeast that summer.’ U ol €0, no, not that summer. No, you are perfectly right 10 about that. Tt was the following winter that I said it.’ Howere, oe! elner ¢ Well, as it turned out, Mary was not in the least to blame, — it was all her father’s fault,—at least his and old Darley’s.’ T Tt was necessary to say something,—so I said,— Fro 6 ¢I always regarded Darley as a troublesome old thing.’ {hat di ¢So he was, but then they always had a great affection for (Ui b“ him, although he had so many eccentricities. You remember T that when the weather was the least cold, he would try to come she bad into the house.’ st o I was rather afraid to proceed. Lvidently Darley was not a i man,—he must be some other kind of animal,—possibly a dog, [ maybe an elephant. However, tails are common to all animals, Mhy so I ventured to say,— Lt ¢ And what a tail he had !’ deal of ¢ One! He had a thousand !’ wou This was bewildering. I did not quite know what to say, the | so I only said,— over f ¢ Yes, he was rather well fixed in the matter of tails.’ h ¢ For a negro, and a crazy one at that, I should 81y he was,’ ol Il fl ] said she. I said to myself, ¢ Is it (}0( It was getting pretty sultry for me. Th possible ghe is going to stop there, and wait for me to speak ? ! Cm If she does, the conversation is blocked. A negro with a thou- ‘No sand tails is a topic which a person cannot talk upon fluently Tt and instructively without more or less preparation. ~As to diving bam fy rashly into such a vast subject,—’ £lonf 66D But here, to my gratitude, she interrupted my thought by gaying,— Ty about, “Yes, when it came to tales of his crazy woes, there was That simply no end to them if anybody would listen. His own quarters were comfortable enough, but when the weather was ofthe 817, f kg cold, the family were sure to have his company,—nothing could {‘ ¢ latty 4 TRAMP ABROAD. 131 t o deeper LB keep him out of the house. But they always bore it-kindly — because he had saved Tom’s life, years before. You remember I,N'acity,\ Tom?’ ¢ O, perfectly. Fine fellow he was, too.’ EWas hylf g ¢ Yes, he was. And what a pretty little thing his child was!’ 16 Wag r“]g‘m‘ ¢ You may well say that. I never saw a prettier child. ¢TI used to delight to pet it and dandle it and play with it. ¢So did I 56, Ialwm;;s ¢‘You named it. What was that name? I can’t call it to mind.’ tetly gy It appeared to me that the ice was getting pretty, thin, here. it! I would have given something to know what the child’s sex was. eash o bamg However, I had the good luck to think of a name that would fit either sex,—so I brought it out,— {Dafley‘sl ¢T named it Frances.’ i IIng, ‘From a relative, I suppose? Dut yofi named the one fon or that died, too,—one that I never saw. What did you call that one?’ 0u Temember d try to come I was out of neutral names, but as the child was dead and she had never seen it, I thought I might risk a name for it and trust to luck. Therefore I said,— rlvyl vas ) ) ‘T called that one Thomas Henry.’ She said, musingly,— foalla ¢ That is very singular . . very singular. I sat still and let the cold sweat run down. T was in a good deal of trouble, but I believed I could worry chrough if she W what (0 8 wouldn’t ask me to name any more children. I wondered where the lightning was going to strike next. She was still ruminating f fall over that Jast child’s title, but presently she said,— ‘I have always been sorry you were away at the time,—I 10"y he would have had you name my child.’ ¢ Your child ! Are you married ?’ ) n]}'SEIf, I ¢ I have been married thirteen yeacs.’ me fo S ¢ Christened, you mean.’ o witha hor ¢ No, married. The youth by your side is my son.’ gpon finent)f ¢It seems incredible,~—even impossible. I do not mean any Astodidy harm by it, but would you mind telling me if you are any over b eighteen ?—that is to say, will you tell me how old you are ?’ 0y thOUgm | ‘I was just nineteen the day of the storm we were talking about. That was my birth-day.’ e, thee © That did not help matters much, as I did not know the date i His o » of the storm. I tried to think of some non-committal thing to ] eather T say, to keep up my end of the talk and render my poverty in nOIhing ot | the matter of reminiscences as little noticeable as possible, but I X 2 i 132 A TRAMP ADBROAD. ied fo deat] seemed to be about out of non-committal things. I was about ] 3 app to say, ¢ You haven't changed a bit since then,’—but that was ] hae ] Jang risky. I thought of saying ¢ You have improved ever so much ULk I was about since then,’—but that wouldn’t answer, of course. wfiflhfid‘ to try a shy at the weather, for a saving change, when the girl il slipped in ahead of me and said,— wpuy u ( it Twas glfl ¢ How I have enjoyed this talk over those happy old times,— for L ud 2 haven’t you ?’ e that ) ‘I never have spent such a half hour in all my life before !’ o said I, with emotion; and I could have added, with a near fion 00t ¢ approach to truth, ‘and I would rather be scalped than spend ad another one like it. I was holily grateful to be through with the ordeal, and was about to make my good-byes and get out, s v when the girl said,— T ¢ But there is one thing that is ever so puzzling to me.’ ¢ Why, what is that?’ hart jou yould ¢ That dead child’s name. What did you say it was?’ natare I Here was another balmy place to be in: I had forgotten the Jou child’s name; I hadn’t imagined it would be needed again. 1} However, I had to pretend to know, anyway, so I said,— fine ¢ Joseph William.’ fhe The youth at my side corrected me, and said,— < Col ¢ No,—Thomas Henry.’ .\l‘ 0 1 thanked him,—in words,—and said, with trepidation,— When Iy ¢O yes,—I was thinking of another child that I named,— “Now I have named a great many, and I get them confused,—this one ‘Bxe was named Henry Thompson,— simplicy ‘ Thomas Henry,” calmly interposed the boy. I thanked him again,—strictly in words,—and stammered arly of out,— Tnerer | before, ¢ Thomas Henry,—yes, Thomas Henry was the poor child’s name. I named him for Thomas,—er,—Thomas Carlyle, the g ECATAR great author, you know, and Ieary—cr, er, Ilenry VIIL The parents were very grateful to have a child named Thomas Ty Henry? e cap ‘ That makes it more singular than ever, murmured my and mafe beautiful friend. cquldn" ¢ Does it ? “ jML W Why ?° ‘Because when the parents speak of that child now, they Im?flfl { always call it Susan Amelia.’ NI That spiked my gun. I could not say anything. I was oy g il ke entirely out of verbal obliquities; to go further would be to lie, Ao, th and that I would not do; so I simply sat still and suffered—sat dUE) 0 in 8 g mutely and resignedly there, and sizzled—for I was being slowly g il A TRAMP ABROAD. 133 ag dhoyy fried to death in my own blushes. Presently the enemy laughed 1 that a happy laugh and said,— YO 0 1yl ‘1 have enjoyed this talk over old times, but you have not. Was oy tn th I saw very soon that you were only pretending to know me, and 6 g so as I had wasted a compliment on you in the beginning, I made up my mind to punish you. And I hav e succeeded pretty well. O gy I was glad to see that you knew George and Tom and Darley, for I had never heard of them before, and therefore could not be lfe efyr sure that you had; and I was glad to learn the names of those With 5 g imaginary children, too. One can get quite a fund of informa- than spend tion out of you if one goes at it cleverly. Mary and the storm, rough with and the sweeping away of the forward boats, were facts—all the and gt o rest was fiction. Mary was my sister, her full name was Mary Now do you remember me ?’ to me! ‘Yes’ I said, ‘I do remember you now; and you are as hard-hearted as you were thirteen years ago in that ship, else was!’ you wouldn’t have punished me so. You haven’t changed your forgotten fle nature nor your person, in any way at all; you look just as eeded agin young as you did then, you are just as beautiful as you were i~ then, and you have transmitted a deal of your comeliness to this fine boy. There,—if that speech moves you any, let’s fly the flag of truce, with the understanding that I am conquered and confess it.’ dation;— All of which was agreed to and accom plished, on the spot. t [ named,— When I went back to Harris, I said,— e —this one ¢ Now you see what a person with talent and address can do.’ ‘Ixcuse me, I see what a person of colossal ignorance and simplicity can do. The idea of your going and intruding on & d stammered party of strangers, that way, and talking for half an hour; w hy I never heard of a m ) an in his right mind doing such a thing before. What did you say to them?’ ) poor le, fhe ‘Inever said any harm. I merely asked the girl what her Caly e name was.’ Tenry VIl ‘I don’t doubt it. Jpon my word I don’t. I think you ned Thous were capable of it. It was stupid in me to let you go over there, aF and make such an exhibition of yourself. But you know 4 rmured 2] couldn’t really believe you would do such an inexcusable thing. What will those people think of us! But how did you say it? —I mean the manner of it. I hope you were not abrupt.’ | pov, 9 ‘No, I was careful about that. I said, “ My friend and I would like to know what your name is, if you don’t mind.”’ \ing- I ws ‘No, that was not abrupt. There is a polish about it that ol 1ld be does you infinite credit. And I am glad you put me in; that ; ufiET i was a delicate attention wh ich I appreciate at its full value g 07 What did she do?? 134 A TRAMNP ABROAD. o, d ¢She didn’t do anything in particular. She told me hes ffell, name.’ an W ¢ Simply told you her name. Do you mean to say she did {That not show any surprise?’ she did show something; {his 00y t ¢Well, now I come to think, < may quibib fi be it was surprise; I hadn’t thought of that,—I took it for ¢ Ano gratification.’ Ve ¢ O, undoubtedly you were right; it -must have been grati- iTdo fication ; it could not be otherwise than gratifying to be assaulted Then what did Ts hat b by a stranger with such a qnestion as that. ‘NO, oudo?’ gshelod ‘I offered my hand, and the party gave me a shake.’ The ¢Isaw it! I did not believe my own eyes, at the time. Did Business the gentleman say anything about cutting your throat.’ ¢ No, they all seemed glad to see me, as far as I could judge.’ and cone an g\fl'\ ¢ And do you know, I believe they were. I think they said enough to themselves, ¢ Doubtless this curiosity has got away from his keeper—let us amuse ourselves with him.” There is no other here lon No, way of accounting for their facile docility. You sat down. Did Th they ask you to sit down ?’ jou find ¢No, they did not ask me, but I supposed they did not think N, of it. ‘You have an unerring instinct. What else did you do? a4 frips o What did you talk about?’ ¢ Well, I asked the girl how old she was.’ sid yo Go on, go Offered | ¢ Undoubtedly. Your delicacy is beyond praise. and ask on,—don’t mind my apparent misery,—I always look so when I am steeped in a profound and reverent joy. Go on, she told Tnid and co you her age?’ reltive ¢ Yes, she told me her age, and all about her mother, and her grandmother, and her other relations, and all about herself.’ ‘Al ¢ Did she volunteer these statistics?’ altifuds ¢ No, not exactly that. I asked the questions and she an- shall by swered them.’ e if from { ¢ This is divine. Go on,—it is not possible that you forgot I to inquire into her politics?’ What g 1 ¢ No, I thought of that. She is a democrat, her husband isa republican, and both of them are Baptists.’ T ‘ Her husband ? Is that child married ?°’ 00 yon i ¢ She is not a child. She is married, and that is her hushand | N who is there with her.’ l‘§ ¢ Has she any children ?’ P Ldidyg ¢ Yes,—seven and a half.? = ang by th ¢ That is impossible.’ i Hapy o A TRAMP ABROAD. od ‘]‘d g ])ez ¢ No, she has them. She told me herself.’ ¢ Well, but seven and a half. How do you make out the N she gig half? Where does the half come in ?’ ¢ That is a child which she had by another husband,—not ling, 1 00k it gy count it full measure.’ this one, but another one,—so it is a step-child, and they do not ¢ Another husband? Has she had another husband ?? been g ‘Yes, four. This one is number four.’ B assanlto] ‘I do not believe a word of it. It is impossible upon its face. 0 Wit gig Is that boy there her brother ?’ ¢ No, that is her son, He is not as old f ] ko) He is her youngest. as he looks; he is only eleven and a half.’ ¢ These things are all manifestly impossible. This is a wretched ’Ume Dif at. business. It is a plain case: they simply took your measure, ould I il and concluded to fill you up. They seem to have succeeded. I the am glad I am not in the mess; they may at least be charitable 1T0m 4 enough to think there ain’t a pair of us. Are they going to stay € 1810 here long?’ 5 down, ln ¢ No, they leave before noon.’ ¢ There is one man who is deeply gfateful for that. IIow did Tid not think you find out? You asked, I suppose?’ ¢ No, along at first I inquired into their plans in a general did you d! way, and they said they were going to be here a week, and make trips round about; but toward the end of the interview, when I said you and I would tour around with them with pleasure, and offered to bring you over and introduce you, they hesitated a little, . Goony mk 01 hen I and asked if you were from the same establishment that I was. ) 0n, Sle fol I said you were, and then they said they had changed their mind, and considered it mecessary to start at once and visit a sick relative in Siberia.’ other, a £ vi o ¢Ah me, you struck the summit! You struck the loftiest he altitude of stupidity that human effort has ever reached. You and ghe ane shall have a monument of jackass’s skulls as high as the Strasburg spire if you die before I do. They wanted to know if I was from the same *establishment” that you hail from, did they ? it you fgt What did they mean by ¢ establishment?”’ ‘I don’t know ; it never occurred to me to ask.’ ushand 58 ¢ Well, 7 know. They meant an asylum—an idiot asylum, do you understand ? So they do think there’s a pair of us, after all. Now what do you think of yourself ?’ Jor b Jaud ¢ Well I don’t know. I didn’t know I was doing any harm I didn’t mean to do any harm. They were very nice people, and they seemed to like me.’ Harris made some rude remarks and left for his bedroom,— = 136 A TRAMP ABROAD. a fhe ond to break some furniture, he said. He was a singularly irascible s minorel man ; any little thing would disturb his temper. Aromnd I had been well scorched by the young woman, I took it out of Harris. but no matter, Eheltel'edy l" One should always ‘get even’ in some way, else the sore place will go on hurting. qnd conits acesy &l finey 01 any where, Marty CHAPTER XXVI Tous X A\ gell TaE Hofkirche is celebrated for its organ concerts. All summer long the tourists flock to that church about six o’clock in the and she | sidered evening, and pay their franc, and listen to the noise. They don’t makes i stay to hear all of it, but get up and tramp out over the sounding stone floor, meeting late comers who tramp in in a sounding and eart of vigorous way. This tramping back and forth is kept up nearly qualties all the time, and is accented by the continuous slamming of the characte! ifitson door, and the coughing and barking and sneezing of the crowd. Meantime, the big organ is booming and crashing and thundering intention away, doing its best to prove that it is the biggest and loudest Wrong on him, H organ in Europe, and that a tight little box of a church is the most favourable place to average and appreciate its powers in. mush not It is true there were some soft and merciful passages occasionally, anglbo! but the tramp-tramp of the tourists only allowed one to get fitful be the i glimpses of them, so to speak. fomale & Then right away the organist would let go another avalanche. He couls The commerce of Lucerne consists mainly in gimecrackery of good—h the souvenir sort; the shops are packed with Alpine crystals, a3 5000 photographs of scenery, and wooden and ivory carvings. I will Jostive not conceal the fact that miniature figures of the Lion of Lucerne are to be had in them. e stop bimy Millions of them. But they are libels because upon him, every one of them. There is a subtle something about good wh the majestic pathos of the original w hich the copyist cannot get. bensiop Even the sun fails to get it; bot h the photographer and the carver Yequired give you a dying lion, and thatis all, The shape is right, the morg hy attitude is right, the proportions are right, but that indescribable bad reg} something which makes the Lion of Lucerne the most mournful i ting off~ and moving piece of stone in the world, is wanting. When g The Lion lies in his lair in the perpendicular face of a low '.: cliff— 800l ang for he is carved from the living rock of the cliff, His size Latigyg] g is colossal, his attitude is noble. His head is bowed, the broken spear is sticking in his shoulder, ay, b N the lilies of France. his protecting paw rests upon Shicty o Vines hang down the cliff and wave in the wind, and a clear stre am trickles from above and empties into a gy, 13y I Benigpg}, | A TRAMP ABROAD. 137 tly g, pond at the base, and in the smooth surface of the pond the Lion U g g e is mirrored, among the water lilies, » Around about are green trees and grass. 0 i g sheltered, reposeful, woodland nool The place is a <, remote from noise and stir and confusion—and all this is fitting, y for lions do die in such places, and not on granite pedestals in public syuares fenced with fancy iron railings. The Lion of Lucerne would be impressive anywhere, but nowhere so impressive as where he is, Martyrdom is the luckiest fate that ¢ an befall some people. All gy Louis XVI. did not die in his bed, consequently history is very gentle with him; she is ch aritable toward his failings, Utlock n g and she finds in him high virtues + They doyy which are not usually con- sidered to be virtues when they are lodged in kings. She the sounding makes him out to be a person with a meek nding g1 T and modest spirit, the heart of a female saint, and a wrong head. None of these Up nary qualities are kingly, but the last, mming of th Taken together they make a character which would have fared harshl y at the hands of history of the erowd, if its owner had had the ill Iuck to miss martyrdom. With the best 1 Ihunderiug intentions to do the right thing, he always managed to do the and Joudest wrong one. Moreover, nothing could get the female saint out of hurch s he him. He knew, well enough, that in national emergencies he 3 pOwers i, must not consider how he ought to act as a man, but how he occasionally ought to act as a king : so he Lonestly tried to sink the man and e to geb fithl be the king—but it was a failure female saint. , he only succeeded in being the the orgar He was not instant in season, but out of season. He could not be persuaded to do a thing while it could do good—he was iron, he was adam any imerackery of ant in his stubbornness then—bug Ipine arysal as soon as the thing had reached a point where it would be positively harmful to do it vings, [ il » do it he would, and nothing could jon of Tucerne stop him. He did not do it because it would be harmful, but because he hoped it w they are Jibels as not yet too late to achieve by it the mething abott good which it would have done if applied eailier. Ilis compre- hension was always a train or two behindhand. If a national toe f canno geh nd the carver required amputating, he could not see that it needed anything more than poulticing; when others saw that the mortification » s Tight, e indescribah}e had reached the knee, he first perceived that the toe needed cnt- j0st mournil ting off—so0 he cut it off; and he severed the leg at the knee when others saw that the disease had reached the thigh. He was o of 8 17 good, and honest, and well meaning, in the matter of chasing i His site national diseases, but he could never overtake one. As a private man, he would have been lovable ; but viewed as a king he was the roken g rests Upol strictly contemptible. is was a most unroyal career, but the most pitiable spectacle yave i 12 in it was his sentimental treachery to his Swiss guard on that npfies info 8 memorable .August 10, when he allowed those heroes to be 138 A TRAMP ABROAD. Tor 7 massacred in his cause, and forbade them to shed the ¢sacred here I W.fls)_ French blood’ purporting to be flowing in the veins of the red- e capped mob of miscreants that was raging around the palace. o my €4t He meant to be kingly, but he was only the female saint once more. Some of his biographers think that upon this occasion Some Soun fnang, AnC the spirit of Saint Louis had descended upon him. It must have dlock, 1t found pretty cramped quarters. If Napoleon I. had stood in the fain JEIS0 shoes of Louis XVI. that day, instead of being merely a casual and unknown looker-on, there would be no Lion of Lucerne now, Jappencd {hat T w0 but there would be a well-stocked Communist graveyard in Paris, in Liucert which would answer just as well to remember August 10 by. Martyrdom made a saint of Marie Queen of Scots three would be pought hundred years ago, and she has hardly lost all of her saintship yet. Martyrdom made a saint of the trivial and foolish Marie ‘my e? candidt Antoinette, and her biographers still keep her fragrant with the —hutal odour of sanctity to this day, while unconsciously proving upon . . almost every page they write that the only calamitous instinct injue I We which her husband lacked, she supplied—the instinct to root out and get rid of an honest, able, and loyal official, wherever she {he gree found him. The hideous but beneficent French Revolution and hur fumnels | would have been deferred, or would have fallen short of com- upan f pleteness, or even might not have happened at all, if Marie {hreg hu Antoinette had made the unwise mistake of not being born. The world owes a great deal to the French Revolution, and conse- sign pu The quently to its two chief promoters, Louis the Poor in Spirit and his queen. the wat ustally We did not buy any wooden images of the Lion, nor any J ivory, or ebony, or marble, or chalk, or sugar, or chocolate ones, would The truth is, these Iy 1) or even any photographie slanders of him. - copies were so common, so universal, in the shops and every- of befo where, that they presently became as intolerable to the wearied eye as the latest popular melody usually becomes to the harassed ] ear. In Lucerne, too, the wood carvings of other sorts, which L il £ponder had been so pleasant to look upon when one saw them occasion- ally at home, soon began to fatigue us. We grew very tired of downD seeing wooden quails and chickens picking and strutting around siorm clock-faces, and still more tired of seeing wooden images of the Who alleged chamois skipping about wooden rocks, or lying upon them 1031 iy The in family groups, or peering alertly up from behind them. ‘Th first day, I would have bought a hundred and fifty of these clocks Rile if T had had the money and I did buy three—but on the third Jerson day the disease had run its course, I had convalesced, and was in head fo; the market once more—trying to sell. However, I had no luck; Tay which was just as well, for the things will be pretty enough, no | Thy doubt, when I get them home. A TRAMP ADBROAD. the ‘g of the Ted, For years my pet aversion had been the cuckoo clock; now here I was, at last, right in the creature’s home; so wherever I 16 ply went, that distressing ‘70o’hoo ! hoo’hoo ! hoo’hoo!? was always © St gy in my ears. For a nervous man, this was a fine state of things. 1§ (\Qmion Some sounds are hatefuller than others, but no sound is quite so VI gy inane, and silly, and aggravating as the ¢7%oo’hoo’ of a cuckoo stood iy he clock, I think. I bought one, and am carrying it home to a cer- T8 4 ey tain person; for I have always said that if the opportunity ever ey, happened, I would do that man an ill turn. What I meant, was, JardinPary that I would break one of his legs, or something of that sort: but ush 10 by, in Lucerne I instantly saw that I could impair his mind. That f Stals thg her sanily would be more lasting, and more satisfactory every way. So I bought the cuckoo clock; and if I ever get home with it, he is {oolish M ‘my meat,’ as they say in the mines. I thought of another 3 LS With thy candidate—a book reviewer, whom I could name if I wanted to proving un —but after thinking it over, I didn’t buy him a clock. I couldn’t i Imitous ing it injure his mind. t £0 o0t onf & We visited the two long covered wooden bridges which span , Wherever s the green and brilliant Reuss just below where it goes plunging ch Revoluton and hurrahing out of the lake. These rambling, swaybacked short of con: tunnels are very aftractive things, with their alcoved outlooks i Mo upon the lovely and inspiriting water. They contain two or o born, Th three hundred queer old pictures, by old Swiss masters—old boss and o sign painters, who flourished before the decadence of art. il The lake is alive with fishes, plainly visible to the eye, for I 10 DLl the water is very clear. The parapets in front of the hotels were usually fringed with fishers of all ages. One day I thought I s Lion, nor a1y chocolate o would stop and see a fish caught. The result brought back to truth my mind, very forcibly, a circumstance which I had not thought ! = of before Jor twelve years. This one: ops aud exer fo the weare! THE MAN WHO PUT UP AT GADSBY’S. to the ba o SOt i When my odd friend Riley and I were newspaper corre- spondents in Washington, in the winter of 67, we were coming them occasisn-‘ y very fire ¢ down Pennsylvania Avenue one night, near midnight, in a driving storm of snow, when the flash of a street lamp fell upon a man rutting flgll‘ This who was eagerly tearing along in the opposite direction. | images of e - man instantly stopped and exclaimed— ngupos 2 0 ¢ This is lucky ! You are Mr. Riley, ain’t you?’ id them: Riley was the most self-possessed and solemnly deliberate of these oot person in the republic. He stopped, looked his man over from af on fhe B - head to foot, and finally said— oedynd \vas‘in ‘I am Mr. Riley. Did you happen to be looking for me?’ | pad 0153 ¢ That's just what I was doing,’ said the man joyously, ¢ and iy noughy? 140 A TRAMP ABROAD. fi back it’s the biggest luck in the world that I’ve found you. My name SN fteed b is Lykins. I’'m one of the teachers of the High School, San Francisco. As soon as I heard the San Francisco peded 00 postmastershiy ere AL & was vacant I made up my mind to get it—and here I am.’ ‘Yes,” said Riley, slowly, ‘as you have remarked. . . . Mr, igead a i Lykins. . . .here you are. And have you got it ?’ ¢Well, not exactly got it, but the next thing to it. T've Galshys' from Ten brought a petition, signed by the Superintendent of Public In- -~ struction and all the teachers, and by more than two hundred coachmal which be other people. Now I want you, if you'll be so good, to go around with me to the Pacific dele gation ; for I want to rush this thing Gadsb)'vsr through and get along home.’ ouf 10 ‘If the matter is so pressing, you will prefer that we visit the jump‘@d 0 fo take delegation to-night,’ said Riley, in a voice which had nothing (overnm mocking in it—to an unaccustomed ear. ¢ Oh, to-night, by all means! I haven’t got any time to fool and fetch for he e around. I want their promise before I go to bed—1I ain’s the talking kind, I'm the doing kind !’ Vel ondered ¢ ‘Yes. . . .yow've come to the right place for that. When did you arrive?’ colleot undersar ¢Just an hour ago.’ ¢ When are you intending to leave ?’ el ‘ For New York to-morrow evening—for San Francisco next cheap s morning.’ the mon ¢ Just go. ‘On . - What are you going to do to-morrow ?’ ‘Do! Why, I've got to go to the President with t he petition often th and the dele mountaj gation, and get the appointment, haven’t 17’ ‘Yes. . . .very true. . . .thatis correct. And then what?’ driving- the mon ‘Executive Session of the Senate at 2 P.M.—got to get the appointment confirmed—I reckon yowll grant that ?? “On ‘Yes. .. .yes’ said Riley, meditatively, ‘you are right DOCESFJF. again. Then you take the train for New York in the evening stateh | and the steamer for S an Francisco next morning 2’ Was oo ¢ That’s it—that’s the way I map it out.’ tion, Riley considered a while, and then said,— “0n ‘You couldn’t stay. . .aday. . - well, say two days A chegp, longer 7’ shim g ‘ Bless your soul, no! It’s not my style. I aint a man to sy go focling around—I'm a man that docs thing O, s, Itell you. The storm was raging, the tl tick snow blowing in gusts, ol g Riley stood silent, apparently deep in a reverie , during a minute Starg ang or more, then he looked up and said,— fly— ¢ Have you ever heard about that man who Vs, put up at Gadsby’s once?. . . .But I see you haven'’t.’ el A TRAMNP ABROAD. 141 My Ny § hOOL Sflfl He backed Mr. Lykins against an iron fence, buttonholed him, fastened him with his eye, like the Ancient Mariner, and pro- = )st;na?tershig ceeded to unfold his narrative as placidly and peacefully as if we were all stretched comfortably in a blossomy summer meadow, ”l 0.0 |Ml‘. instead of being persecuted by a wintry midnight tempest :— ¢Iwill tell you about that man. It was in Jackson’s time. i,y (3 Gadsby’s was the principal hotel then. Well, this man arrived f PUMH} In. from Tennessee about nine o’clock one morning, with a black 0 hugge coachman and a splendid four-horse carriage and an elegant dog, b0 g0 oy ( ’, which he was evidently fond and proud of; he drove up before sh thi g, () }i Gadsby’s, and the clerk and the landlord and everybody rushed out to take charge of him; but he said “Never mind,” and b We vist o jumped out and told the coachman to wait—said he hadn’t time bad Loy to take anything to eat, he only had a little claim against the Government to collect, would run across the way to the Treasury time o f] and fetch the money, and then get right along back to Tennessee, A~ gy (g for he was in a considerable hurry. ¢ Well, about eleven o'clock that night he came back and that, TV i) ordered a bed and told them to put the horses up—said he would collect the claim in the morning. This was in January, you understand—dJanuary 1834 January 3—W ednesday. ¢ Well, on February 5 he sold the fine carriage and bought a Tancisco next cheap second-hand one—said it would answer just as well to take the money home in, and he didn’t care for style. TOW ?] ¢On August 11 he sold a pair of the fine horses—said he'd fl often thought a pair was better than four to go over the rough 1 petition I mountain roads with where a body had to be careful about his en what!" driving—and there wasn’t so much of his claim but he could lug 00t o g {he the money home with a pair easy enough. .)7 ¢On December 13 he sold another horse—said two warn’s ou are Tl necessary to drag that old light vehicle with—in fact, one could snatch it along faster than was absolutely necessary, now that it 1 the eveuy was good solid winter weather, and the roads in splendid condi- tion. ¢ On February 17, 1833, he sold the old carriage and bought a cheap second-hand buggy—said a buggy was just the trick to ay two dfl}‘ skim along mushy, slushy early spring roads with, and he had always wanted to try a buggy on those mountain roads, anyway. int a man ‘On August 1 he sold the buggy and bought the remains of ]l you’ an old sulky—said he just wanted to see those green Tennesseeans og in gt stare and gawk when they saw him come a-ripping along in a in g 3 pinute sulky—didn’t believe they'd ever heard of a sulky in their lives. pat Gadly ‘Well, on August 29 he sold his coloured coachman—said 142 A TRAMP ABROAD. ening o he didn’t need a coachman for a sulky—wouldn’t be room enough fo Tennes for two in it anyway—and besides it wasn’t every day that alhted 0 Providence sent a man a fool who was willing to pay nine hun- b dred dollars for such a third-rate negro as that—been wanting to pelave ! 0 glfld ) get rid of the creature for years, but didn’t like to throw him onee OTe away. Anot ¢ Bighteen months later—that is to say, on February 15, sl 1887—he sold the sulky and bought a saddle—said horseback {Tha riding was what the doctor had always recommended %im to take, T and dog’d if he wanted to risk Z¢s neck going over those moun- to me th tain roads on wheels in the dead of winter, not if he knew him- 0h, self. e ¢On April 9 he sold the saddle—said he wasn’t going to risk i(h his life with any perishable saddle-girth that ever was made, over a rainy, miry April road, while he could ride bareback and nobdn £ pos know and feel he was safe—always had despised to ride on a saddle, anyway. apat 6 bless ¢On April 24 he sold his horse—said, “I'm just 57 to-day, 00 hale and hearty—it would be a pretty howdy-do for me to be wasting such a trip as that and such weather as this on a horse, 3100 when there ain’t anything in the world so splendid as a tramp on foot through the fresh spring woods and over the cheery moun- JiC To tains, to a man that is a man—and I can make my dog carry my about 1 claim in a little bundle anyway, when it’s collected. So to- morrow I'll be up bright and early, make my little old collection, till le s fishe and mosey off to Tennessee, on my own hind legs, with a rousing Good-bye to Gadsby’s.’ sy, ¢ On June 22 he sold his dog said “Dern a dog, anyway, pier fo his cor where you’re just starting off on a rattling bully pleasure-tramp through the summer woods and hills—perfect nuisance—chases it Or the squirrels, barks at everythin o) o g, goes a-c apering and splattering " and Iy around in the fords—man can’t get any chance to reflect and says th enjoy nature—and I'd a blamed sight rather carry the claim thing ] cat, myself, it's a mighty sight safer ; a dog’s mighty uncertain in a financial way—always noticed it—well, good-bye, boys—Iast call,—I'm off for Tennessee, with a good leg and a gay heart, early in the morning ! "’ There was a pause and a silence—except the noise of the wind and the pelting snow. < Well?’ Mr. Lykins said, impatiently,— Crose Garden); Riley said,— Btoung, ¢ Well—that was thirty years ago.” foungyg ¢ Very well, very well—what of it?’ ey, ¢ I'm great friends with that old patriarch. He comes every ligy theg A TRAMP ABROAD. 143 100 gy v / @“Y thcat evening to tell me good-bye, I saw him an hour ago--he’s off (G{ for Tennessee early to-morrow morning as usual ; said he cal- LT di o fy culated to get his claim through and be off before night-owls like to fl me have turned out of bed. The tears were in his eyes, he was () Lm so glad he was going to see his old Tennessee and his friends once more.’ Another silent pause. The stranger brcke it,— ¢Is that all 2’ e iathstalll er thog ¢ Well for the #ime of night, and the kind of night, it seems e e by to me the story was full long enough. But what’s it all for?® ¢ Oh, nothing in particular.’ 011Y ¢ Well, where’s the point of it ?’ ¢ Oh, there isn’t any particular point to it Only, if you are a i not in t00 much of a hurry to rush off to San Francisco with d to }xue a that post-office appointment, Mr. Lykins, I'd advise you to ¢ put up at Gadsby’s” for a spell, and take it easy. Good-bye. God 7 tod bless you !” I I (R0} So saying, Riley blandly turned on his heel and left the on & astonished school teacher standing there, a musing and motion- a8 4 Q9 atllp less snow image shining in the broad glow of the street lamp. eC Ie never got that post-office. o 1y i To go back to Lucerne and its fishers, I concluded, after N 1d about nine hours’ waiting, that the man who proposes to tarry ) till he sees somebody hook one of those well-fed and experienced ylithal fishes will find it wisdom to ‘put up at Gadsby’s’ and take it easy. It is likely that a fish has not been caught on that lake pier for forty years; but no matter, the patient fisher watches 4 his cork there all the day long just the same, and seems to enjoy i, One may see the fisher-loafers just as thick and contented and happy and patient all along the Seine at Paris, but tradition says that the only thing ever caught there in modern times is a e 0! 1 thing they don’t fish for at all—the recent dog and the translated any the ¢ cat, r uncertal bye, oy nd 8 g CHAPTER XXVIL e o o CLosE by the Lion of Lucerne is what they call the ¢ Glacier n[atienfl)'l' Garden,” and it is the only one in the world. It is on high ground. Four or five years ago some workmen who were digging foundations for a house came upon this interesting relic of a long- departed age. Scientific men perceived in it a confirmation of their theories concerning the glacial period; so through their Ho cones aef 144 4 TRAMP ABROAD. persuasions the little tract of ground was bought, and permanently e, L 8l Ji ali ild protected against being built upon. The soil was removed, and feious there lay the rasped and guttered track which the ancient glacier Jared qua the el had made as it moved along upon its slow and tedious journey. This track was perforated by huge pot-shaped holes in the bed- 0 svdllct'\"e 3 1 { el n Sl rock, formed by the furious was 1ing around in them of boulders by the turbulent torrent which flows beneath all glaciers. These yho had ear e Jovel huge round boulders still remain in the holes; they and the walls of the holes are worn smooth by the long-continued chafing which Te swep! they gave each other in those old days. It took a mighty force ke among to churn these big lumps of stone around in that vigorous way. alvays 8 10 renled an The neighbouring country had a very different shape at that time—the valleys have risen up and become hills since, and the e g white mass hills have become valleys. The boulders discovered in the pots had travelled a great distance, for there is no rock like them nearer Kindred gl than the distant Rhone Glacier. oflesen Al For some days we were content to enjoy looking at the blue Once vl Lake Lucerne, and at the piled-up masses of snow mountains and domg m that border it all round : an enticing spectacle this last, for there Lagt, ['ma is a strange and fascinating beauty and charm about a majestic e He wisa snow peak, with the sun blazing upon it or the moonlight softly enriching it; but finally, we concluded to try a bit of excursion- medim ] ing around on a steamboat, and a cash on footat the Rigi. Very pendent ege well, we had a delightful trip to Fluelen, on a breezy sunny day. with a de Everybody sat on the upper deck, on benches, under an awning ; itunilif everybody talked, laughed, and exclaimed at the wonderfal to work eas scenery. In truth, a trip on that lake is almost the perfection brimmed of pleasuring. The mountains were a never-ceasing marvel. had a whi Sometimes they rose straight up out of the lake, and towered failed coa, aloft and overshadowed our pigmy steamer with their prodigious fashion; 7e bulk in the most impressive way. Not snow-clad mountains these, shoes, tied yet they climbed high enough towards the sky to meet the apen collyr clouds and veil their foreheads in them. They were not barren cuff o and repulsive, but clothed in green, and restful and pleasant to he derig the eye; and they were so almost straight-up-and-down some- times that one could not imagine a man being able to keep his SUmoupe 1der by footing upon such a surface, yet there are paths, and the Swiss Wi shoz-[y § people go up and down them every day. 15 heg] i Sometimes one of these monster precipices had the slight incli- took 5 Ciga nation of the huge ship-houses in dock-yards; then high aloft ,OI € Which towards the sky it took a little stronger inclination, like that of a Ogar, iy mansard roof, and perched {on this dizzy mansard one’s eye : YES) [ al datected little things like martin-boxes, and presently perceived gy | thut these were the dwellings of peasants—an airy place for a 6 vy fy 4 TRAMP ADRROAD. liin 1 145 Pertugy Uil tly home, truly. And suppose a peasant should walk in his T@Inf)'.'ed’ md sleep, or his child should fall out of the front yard ? Tl 1e friends would 0% i Ourmey, have a tedious long journey out of those cloud-heights > before they 310 found the remains. And yet those far-aw. a 2y homes looked ever the e, so seductive ; they were so remote from the troub] ed world, they m.flf Do dozed in such an atmosphere of peace and dreams clers, T lese —surely ne one who had learned to live up there would ever w ant to live on a y and the \\'aifig meaner level. | chgfi 08 which mieh fy fy 0r We swept through the prettiest little curving arms of the N lake, among these colossal green walls, enjoying new dcl T Y fgizls always as the stately panorama unfolded ‘itself before us and Iy at {ht 1 re-rolled and hid itself behind us; and now and then we hLad since, g ¢ 16 £ u..‘ the thrilling surprise of bursting suddenly upon a tremendous 1 the mt white mass like the distant and dominating Jungfrau, or some kindred giant, looming head and shoulders above a tumbled waste of lesser Alps. N7 A { Once while I was hungrily taking in one of these surprises, IV )l and doing my best to get all I possibly could of it while it should last, I was interrupted by a yourg and care-free voice— 4l M o Q o’'m I. o} ‘You're an American, I think ? it 0L €XC He was about eighteen, or possibly nineteen ; slender, and of medium height; open, frank, happy face; a restless but inde- pendent cye; a snub rose, which had the air of drawing back unny with a decent reserve from the silky new-born moustache below 1 and it until it should be introduced; a loosely-hung jaw, calculated the W to work easily in the sockets. He wore a low-crowned, narrow- brimmed straw hat, with a broad blue ribbon around it, which had a white anchor embroidered on it in front; nobby short- %{ , al tailed coat, pantaloons, vest—all trim and neat, and up with the the Ir fashion ; red-striped stockings, very low-quarter patent leather mounfal | shoes, tied with black ribbon ; blue ribbon around his neck, wide- 06 h ky to meeh ! open collar ; tiny diamond studs, wrinkleless kids, projecting il W.ere ) cuffs, fastened with large oxydised silver sleeve-buttons bearing an - the device of a dog’s face—English pug. He carried a slim cane, a4 Ol owh SOH‘,L:' surmounted with an English pug’s head with red glass eycs Under his arm he carried a German Grammar, Otto’s. His hair e to keep *° was short, straight, and smooth; and presently, when he turned o " f Lis head a moment, I saw that it was nicely parted behind. IIe took a cigarette out of a dainty box, stuck it into a meerschaum thoslight Df::-' g holder which he carried in a morocco case, and reached for my then bi cigar. o 4 ‘While he was Jighting, I said— ‘ny e ‘Yes, I am an American.’ DSAI 4 onés ¥ | ‘I knew it. e I can always tell them. What ship did you ntly come over in ?’ ford ity Plflce L 14 A TRAMP ABROAD. oot ¢ Holsatia.> 1] don’f ‘We came in the ¢ Batavia”’—Cunard, you know. What { 1 Three kind of a passage did you have?’ * Tolerably rough.’ Anericans ¢So did we. Captain said he’d hardly ever seen it rougher. i (ity (rermal Where are you from ?’ ¢ New England.’ ifes! ¢Som I. I’'m from New Bloomfield. (hat Anybody with you?’ ¢ Yes, a friend.’ ‘ HCta:l ( It's awful slow going round fDont “Our whole family’s along. 10! alone, don’t you think so ?’ fil ¢ Rather slow.’ Tican But] ¢Ever been over here before?? SViosy Good ‘T haven’t. But we've been all around — t\p_ My first trip. Paris, and everywhere. I'm to enter Harvard next year, y \\h\ Can’t enter till I know Studying German all the time now. spak A 0 German. I know considerable French. I get along pretty well at here in Paris, or anywhere where they speak I'rench. What hotel ‘Ho are you stopping at?’ “Sho, ¢ Schweitzerhof.! know the ‘No ! Is that so? I never sce you in the reception room. Lok f I go to the reception room a great deal of the time, because Tey | there, there’s so many Americans there. I make lots of acquaintances. I know an American as soon as I see him, and so I speak to him No A and make his acquaintance. I like to be always making ac- them! | quaintances, don’t you?’ make lots ‘Lord, yes!’ because 1 ¢ You see it breaks up a trip like this, first rate. T ncver get along thr bored on a trip like this, if I can make acquaintances and have Ak somebody to talk to. But I think a trip like this would be an Tsth awful bore if a body couldn’t find anybody to get acquainted fown whey with and talk to on a trip like this. TI'm fond of talking, ain’t aintyou you?’ Diri ¢ Passionately.’ “That ¢ Have you felt bored on this trip ?* gy ¢ Not all the time, but part of it.’ ‘That’s it—you see you ought to go around and get ac- American ( 18 aqug) quainted, and talk. That’s my way. That’s the way I always 1ake ey do—1I just go ’round, 'round, 'round, and talk, talk, talk—I never Wi ] get bored. You been up the Rigi yet?’ ¢No. [ Pref ¢ Going?’ ! ot and & ¢1 think so.’ }ameg at 4 TRAMP ABROAD, 147 ¢ What hotel are you going to stop at ?’ W08, Wiy ¢I don’t know. ¢ Three. Is there more than one ?°? You stop at the Schreiber—yowll find it full of i Yol Americans. What ship did you say you came over in? 2 ¢ ¢« City of Antwerp.”’ ¢ German, I guess. You going to Geneva ?’ SRYECSt 1y with yoy1 J J ¢ What hotel you going to stop at?’ ¢ Hotel de ’Ecu de Geneve.’ ' going mouyg ¢ Don’t you do it! No Americans there ! You stop at one of those big hotels over the bri dge—they’re packed full of Ame- W ricans.’ ¢ But I want to practise my Arabic.’ nall g ¢ Good gracious, do you speak Arabic?® ¢ Yes—well enough to get along.’ ¢ Why, hang it, you won’t get along in Geneva—they don’t speak Arabic, they speak French. )I¢ at here ?’ What hotel are you stopping hat | ¢ Hotel Pension-Beaurivage.’ ¢Sho, you ought to stop at the Schweitzerhof. Didn’t ou nilon Toom know the Schweitzerhof was the best hotel in Switzerland ? Look at your Baedecker.’ 6 ( there.’ ¢ Yes, I know—but I had an idea there warn’t any Americans U K 10 il ¢ No Americans! Why, bless your soul, it's just alive with it them ! Tm in the great reception room most all the time. I make lots of acquaintances there. Not as many as I did at first, because now only the new ones stop in there—the others go right along through. ~Where are you from ?’ nd ¢ Arkansaw.’ hear | ¢Is that s0? I'm from New England—New Bloomfield’s my town when I'm at home. I'm having a mighty good time to-day, )} alking, ain’t you?”’ ¢ Divine.’ ¢ That’s what I call it. I like this knocking around, loose and easy, and making acquaintances and talking. I know an American soon as I see him; so I go and speak to him and make od and t a0 his acquaintance. I ain’t ever bored on a trip like this if I can make new acquaintances and talk. p Wayie I'm awful fond of talking |, tal i, ] ere when I can get hold of the right kind of a person, ain’t you?’ ¢ I prefer it to any other dissipation.’ ¢ That's my notion, too. Now some people like to take a book and sit down and read, and read, and read, or moon around yawping at the lake or these mountains and things, but that ain’t L2 148 1-1 TRAMP ABROAD. il my way ; 1o, sir, if they like it, let em do it, I don’t object; but {hen be as for me, talking’s what I like. You been up the Rigi ?’ earsy T.l ¢ ¢Yes.’ for ever. ¢ What hotel did you stop at?’ agueeto ¢ Schreiber.’ tune 10 ¢ That’s the place !—1I stopped there too. Full of Americans The wasn’t it? It always is—always is. That’s what they say. deck, M Everybody says that. ‘What ship did you come over in?’ of 8 00U ¢ « Ville de Paris.””’ one A ¢ French, I reckon. What kind of a passage did . . . . Ex- You cuse me a minute, there’s some Americans I haven’t seen Yes- before.’ I had the T And away he went. He went uninjured too. €ome Ove murderous impulse to harpoon him in the back with my alpen- H;Ci stock, but as I raised the weapon the disposition left me; I ‘Oh, found I hadn’t the heart to kill him, he was such a joyous, inno- youkno cent, good-natured numskull. Pre Half an hour later I was sitting on a bench inspecting, with T strong interest, a nobie monolith which we were skimming by— hardly ¢ a monolith not shaped by man, but by Nature’s free, great hand Ner —a massy pyramidal rock eighty feet high, devised by Nature o ten million years ago against the day when a man worthy of it New Dl should need it for his monument. The time came at last, and now this grand remembrancer bears Schiller’s name in huge let- both of 0y ters upon its face. Curiously enough, this rock was not degraded ied, or defiled in any way. It is said that two years ago a stranger let himself down from the top of it with ropes and pulleys, and ‘S alone?”’ painted all over it, in blue letters bigger than those in Schiller’s No name, these words:— ¢ TrYy S0zoDONT;’ = Ou alone— ¢ Buy Sun Stove PorisH ;? Ts ¢ HeLmBoLD’s Bucau ;’ ‘H, ¢ Try BENZALINE FOR THE Broop.’ alter Py He was captured, and it turned out that he was an American. liam T Upon his trial the judge said to him :— didy't 1 ‘You are from a land where any insolent that wants to is knockiy o T privileged to profane and insult Nature, and, through her, Nature’s 8 the ¢ God, if by so doing he can put a sordid penny in his pocket. ‘I But here the case is different. Because you are a foreigner and ‘O ignorant, I will make your sentence light: if you were a native, v ever shu I would deal strenuously with you. Hear and obey. You will than g immediately remove every trace of your offensive work from the 0y th, Schiller monument; you will pay 2 fine of ten thousand francs; Tes 4 TRAMP ABROAD. 149 £ b E you will suffer two years’ imprisonment at hard labour; you will then be horsewhipped, tarred and feathered, deprived of your ears, ridden on a rail to the confines of the canton, and banished for ever. The severe penallies are omitted in your case—not as a grace to you, but to that great republic which had the misfor- Amerig tune to give you birth.’ they gy, The steamer’s benches were ranged back to back across the n! deck. My back hair was mingling innocently with the back hair of a couple of ladies. Presently they were addressed by some- B one and I overheard this conversation :— ve.n’.t £¢en ‘ You are Americans, I think? So’m I. ¢ Yes—we are Americans.’ Thad fhg come over in ?° ‘I knew it—I can always tell them. What ship did you Ly alpm;- lef me: T f ¢ ¢ City of Chester.” Jous, onge ‘ Oh, yes—Inman line. We came in the “ Batavia »—Cunard, you know. What kind of a passage did you have ?’ eetng, wilh ¢ Pretty fair. ming by— ¢ That was luck. We had it awful rough. Captain said he'd geat hand hardly ever seen it rougher. Where are you from?’ by Nat i " ¢ New Jersey.’ orth 0y ¢So'm I. No—I didn’t mean that : I'm from New England. at lagt New Bloomfield’s my place. These your children ?—belong to n b both of you?’ ‘ Only to one of us; they are mine; my friend is not mar- ried. I ¢ Single, I reckon ? So'm 1. Are you two ladies travelling alone ?’ n AL ¢ No—my husband is with us.’ ¢ Our whole family’s along. It’s awful slow, going around alone—don’t you think so ?’ ‘I suppose it must be.’ ¢ Hi, there’s Mount Pilatus coming in sight again. Named after Pontius Pilate, you know, that shot the apple off of Wil- Americh liam Tell’s head. Guidebook tells all about it, they say. I didn’t read it—an American told me. I don’t read when I'm knocking around like this, having a good time. Did you ever yants 10 ]‘ see the chapel where William Tell used to preach ?’ o, Natures ¢I do not know he ever preached there.’ his pocéh ¢ Oh, yes, he did. That American told me so. He don’t eiguer & He knows more about this lake ever shut up his guide-book. rea 1l 1:9, than the fishes in it. Besides, they call it “Tell’s Chapel ?—you Tou v know that yourself. You ever been over here before 2’ k from fhe ‘Yes.) ud francsj A TRAMP ADROAD, ¢ I haven’t. It’s my first trip. But we've been all around— 1Yes— ell, Paris, and everywhere. I'm to enter Harvard next year. Study- ing Geerman all the time now. Can’t enter till I know German. puel-! This book’s Otto’s Grammar. It's a mighty good book to get the Yes- ¢ ()h,’ ( ich habe gehabt haben's out of. ButI don’t really study when I'm knocking around this way. If the notion takes me, I just run ]i 2 pel‘i( over my little old ick habe gehabt, du hast gehabt, er hat gehabt, history, ¢ fun-fods! all wir haben gehabt, ihr habet gehabt, sie haben gehabt—kind of “ Now-I-lay-me-down-to-sleep ” fashion, you know, and after Ilsey that, maybe I don’t buckle to it again for three days. It’s awful ¢Ner |l i undermining to the intellect, German is; you want to take it in small doses, or first you know your brains all run together, and el the you feel them sloshing around in your head same as so much ot drawn butter. Yo But French is different ; French ain’t anything. I ain’t any more afraid of French than a tramp’s afraid of pie; Pilatus I can rattle off my little j’a, tu as, il a, and the rest of it, just Jong, | as easy as a-b-c. I get along pretty well in Paris, or anywhere s ity f where they speak French. ‘What hotel you stopping at?”’ f i ¢ The Schweitzerhof.’ Did '{{I‘ 0l ‘No! is that so? I never sce you in the big reception room. I go in there a good deal of the time, because there’s so many “Oh Americans there. I make lots of acquaintances. You been up youth the Rigi yet ?’ hotel ¢No.’ um ¢ Going ?’ that gn ¢ We think of it.’ al ¢ What hotel you going to stop at?’ ladies, ¢TI don’t know.’ ¢ Well, then, you stop at the Schreiber—it’s full of Ameri- cans. What ship did you come over in?’ ¢« City of Chester.”’ ¢ Ob, yes, I remember I asked you that before. But I always The R ask everybody what ship they came over in, and so sometimes L Which forget and ask again. You going to Geneva ?’ ¢ Yes.’ likes i g ¢ What hotel you going to stop at?”’ aseent ¢ We expect to stop in a pension.’ ¢I don’t hardly believe yowll like that; there’s very few Prefr 0ng by Americans in the pensions. What hotel are you stopping at here?’ ¢ The Schweitzerhof.” e £0f ¢ Oh, yes, I asked you that before, too. But I always ask our ounty everybody what hotel they’re stopping at, and so I’ve got my head all mixed up with hotels. But it makes talk, and I love to We talk. It refreshes me up so—don’t it you—on a trip like this?® i gy HOOI], a A TRAMP ABROAD. 151 Loy A fydy. ¢ Yes—sometimes.’ ¢ Well, it does me, too. W German, As long as I'm talking I never feel 2t Rt the — bored—ain’t that the way with you ?’ Y Whenly ¢ Yes—generally. But there are exceptions to the rule.’ 5 L0t ¢ Oh, of course. [ don’t care to talk to everybody myself. If a person starts in to jabber-jabber-jabber about scenery, and Tt fJ(’]{flb!‘ li=kind ¢ history, and pictures, and all sorts of tiresome things, I get the fan-tods mighty soon. I say, “ Well, I must be going now—hope Wy and afty . Dyanty T'll see you again”—and then I take a walk. Where you from ?’ 0 take ity ¢New Jersey.’ ¢ Why, bother it all, I asked you that before, too. together, and seen the Lion of Lucerne?’ Have you 89 80 el ¢ Not yet.’ 't anying But the man who told me about Mount ¢Nor I, either. fnid of e Pilatus says it’s one of the things to see. It’s twenty-eight feet est of 1 u long. He Or an It don’t seem reasonable, but he said so, anyway. 7 8 7 saw it yesterday ; said it was dying then, so I reckon it's dead by this time. But that ain’t any matter, of course they’ll stuff it. Did you say the children are yours—or /ers?’ 00 T0m, ¢ Mine. £0- Tuany ¢ Oh, so you did. Are you going up the . . . no, I asked ou Nbcen 3 you that. What ship . . no, I asked you that, too. What hotel are you . no, you told me that. Let me see . . um . . oh, what kind of a voy . .. . no, we've been over that ground too. Um um well, I believe that is all. Bonjour—TI am very glad to have made your acquaintance, ladies. Guten tag. ull o Anet CHAPTER XXVIIL Bt Lalwt Tre Rigi-Kulm is an imposing Alpine mass, 6,000 feet high, ) sometin| which stands by itself, and commands a mighty prospect of blue lakes, green valleys, and snowy mountains—a compact and The magnificent picture three hundred miles in circumference, ascent is made by rail, or horseback, or on foot, as one may prefer. I and my agent panoplied ourselves in walking costume, els VeIJ ff;‘f one bright morning, and started down the lake on the steamboat; jing af e we got ashore at the village of Wiiggis, three-quarters of an hour distant from Lucerne. This village is at the foot of the mountain. I always i Jve g tf We were soon tramping leisurely up the leafy mule-path, 4 L Joe! and then the talk began to flow, as usual. It was twelve o’clock ] ik o lis! noon, and a breezy, cloudless day; the ascent was gradual, and 15 A TRAMP ABROAD. 1Ty the glimpses, from under the curtaining boughs, of blue water, herey it’,s | and tiny sail-boats, and beetling cliffs, were as charming as ] sai glimpses of dreamland. All the circumstances were perfect—and A\ the anticipations, too, for we should soon be enjoying, for the first time, that wonderful spectacle, an Alpine sunrise—the Enough f‘ T ash object of our journey. There was (apparently) no real need Are to hurry, for the guide-book made the walking distance from ‘Ne Wiiggis to the summit only three hours and a quarter. I say rally ¢ apparently,’” because the guide-book had already fooled us once I - —about the distance from Allerheiligen to Oppenau—and for and ord aught I knew. it might be getting ready to fool us again. — We were"dnl}' certain as to the altitudes—we calculated to find yith thi The out for ourselves how many hours it is from the bottom to the when [ top. The summit is 6,000 feet above the sea, but only 4,500 feet above the lake. up el When we had walked half an.hour, we of cour were fairly into the swing and humour of the undertaking, so we cleared for action; that is to say, we got a boy whom we met e awc oo lat to carry our alpenstocks, and satchel, and overcoats and things for us; that left us free for business. point to call I suppose we must have stopped oftener to stretch out on the grass in the shade and take a bit of a smoke than this boy was daybre used to, for presently he asked if it had been our idea to hire could ¢ him by the job or by the year. We told him he could move - Judy th had t along if he was in a hurry. Ile said he wasn’t in such a very all tha particular hurry, but he wanted to get to the top while he was young. We told him to clear out then, and leave the things at in twe the uppermost hotel and say we should be along presently. He said he would secure us a hotel if he could, but if they were all Harri matio full he would ask them to build another one and hurry up and get the paint and plaster dry against we arrived. Still gently that }3< chaffing us he pushed ahead, up the trail, and soon disappeared. ! By six o’clock we were pretty high up in the air, and the view of the sy luke and mountains had greatlly grown in breadth and interest. fotab the lef We halted a while at a little public-house, where we had bread and cheese and a quart or two of fresh milk, out on the porch, a long tain, with the big panorama all before us—and then moved on again, Ten minutes afterwards we met a hot, red-faced man plunging On. our down the mountain, with mighty strides, swinging his alpenstock Tallyg ahead of him and taking a grip on the ground with its iron point Increq to support these big strides. He stopped, fanned himself with Ii 1 f ) his hat, swabbed the perspiration from his face and neck with a Ver) i red handkerchief, panted a moment or two, and asked how far it I was to Wiiggis, I said three hours. altih said— Ie looked surprised and udg thgjp A TRAMP ABROAD. blug Vg ¢ Why, it seems as if I could toss a biscuit into the luke from Wy, , here, it’s so close by. Is that an inn there?’ perfeetland I said it was. Vg fy ¢ Well, said he, ‘I can’t stand another three hours, I've had Snrigp—) I} enough for to-day : I’ll take a bed there.’ 10 73] g I asked— Isan fy, ¢ Are we nearly to the top?’ linter, | ] Ooled ng g ‘Nearly to the top/ Why, bless your soul, you haven’t really started yet.’ Lall~gnq fy s I said we would put up at the inn, too. So we turned back Sagam, Ve and ordered a hot supper, and had quite a jolly evening of it lted to g with this Englishman. bottom o f The German landlady gave us neat rooms and nice beds, and Ut only 4500 when I and my agent turned in, it was with the resolution to be {an houy, e But up early and make the utmost of our first Alpine sunrise. mder‘aking, N of course we were dead tired, and slept like policemen ; so when Whom wemgt we awoke in the morning and ran to the window it was already ts and thiog too late, because it was half-past eleven. It was a sharp disap- pointment. However, we ordered breakfast and told the landlady ich out on the to call the Englishman, but she said he was already up and off at this boy s daybreak—and swearing mad about something or other. We r idea to hin could not find out what the matter was. He had asked the land- e could mors lady the altitude of her place above the level of the lake, and she had told him fourteen hundred and ninety-five feet. That was in such a vey while l‘xe i all that was said ; then he lost his temper. Ile said that between o the fools and guide-books, a man could acquire ignorance enough pre in twenty-four hours in a country like this to last him a year. f they Harris believed our boy had been loading him up with misinfor- mation ; and this was probably the case, for his epithet described ] huny wp Sl that boy to a dot. We got under way about the turn of noon, and pulled out for il d] ) nd the vié the summit again, with a fresh and vigorous step. When we had ,‘: got about two hundred yards, and stopped to rest, I glanced to ) and miere yre had bret the left while I was lighting my pipe, and in the distance detected a long worm of black smoke crawling lazily up the steep moun- on the poth tain. Of course that was the locomotive. We propped ourselves oved on 158 on our elbows at once, to gaze, for we had never seen a mountain oan plug’s - railway yet. Presently we could make out the train. It seemed s alpensto it iron oI incredible that the thing should creep straight up a sharp slant like the roof of a house—but there it was, and it was doing that [ himse]f \\'i!h very miracle. ] neck yithd In the course of a couple of hours we reached a fine breezy ed hov farh altitude where the little shepherd-huts had big stones all over surprised al their roofs to hold them down to the earth when the great storms 154 A TRAMP ABROAD. rage. The country was wild and rocky about here, but there 15 1L enormolls U were plenty of trees, plenty of moss, and grass, Away off on the opposite shore of the Jake we could see some e 78 villages, and now for the first time we could observe the real dif- yereo f con hree h‘C ference between their proportions and those of the giant moun- tains at whose feet they slept. ‘When one is in one of those vil- & el § Jea lages it seems spacious, and its houses seem high and not out of proportion to the mountain that overhangs them—but from our pod 26T During ¢ altitude, what a change ! The mountains were bigger and grander than ever, as they stood there thinking their solemn thoughts with inerors ¥ their heads in the drifting clouds, but the villages at their feet— i e W on e when the painstaking eye could trace them up and find them— were so reduced, so almost invisible, and lay so flat against the g your v ground, that the exactest simile I can devise is to compare ther pikeftol to ant-deposits of granulated dirt over-shadowed by the huge onort bx bulk of a cathedral. The steamboats skimming along under the pihe i i stupendous precipices were diminished by distance to the dain- fhey KnoW tiest little toys, the sail-boats and row-boats to shallops proper ¢ n for fairies that keep house in the cups of lilies and ride to court w'uer? a‘ne-r on the backs of bumble-bees. ikl it Presently we came upon half a dozen sheep nibbling grass in ier the spray of a stream of clear water that sprang from a rock wall e g a hundred feet high, and all at once our ears were startled with sl amelodious‘Lul...1....1....lul-lul-lahee-0-0-0 !” pealing fo strete joyously from a near but invisible source, and recognized that we how e were hearing for the first time the famous Alpine jodel in its own 18 native wilds. And we recognised, also, that it was that sort of Tnt! quaint commingling of baritone and falsetto which at home we §me 1 call ¢ Tyrolese warbling.’ bt we Tke jodling (pronounced yodling—emphasis on the o) con- Dl tinued, and was very pleasant and inspiriting to hear. Now the -1 Ve jodler appeared—a shepherd boy of sixteen—and in our gladness So he of over- and gratitude we gave him a franc to jodel some more. along jodeled, and welistened. Wemoved on presently,and he generously jodeled us out of sight. After about fifteen minutes, we came across iy hfld fog another shepherd boy who was jodling, and gave him half a franc to keep it up. He also jodeled us out of sight. After that, we hfl\lnn | Witk found a jodler every ten minutes; we gave the first one eight & — cents, the second one six cents, the third one four cents, the Dy 7 the fourth one a penny, contributed nothing to Nos. 5, 6, 7, and 1§10 during the remainder of the day hired the rest of the jodlers, at le a franc apiece, not to jodel any more. There is somewhat too T &y Wy much of this jodling in the Alps. e e About the middle of the afternoon we passed through a prodi- ey i ewmm) A TRAMP ABROAD. 168 0t gy gious natural gateway called the Felsenthor, formed by two ey $0mg enormous upright rocks, with a third lying across the top. There was a very attractive little hotel close by, but our energies 16 vea] . b gy, were not conquered yet, so we went on. f thoge . Three hours afterward we came to the railway track. It was 006 ut o planted straight up the mountain with the slant of a ladder that UG Irom g | leans against a house, and it seemed to us that a man would need d fxr good nerves who proposed to travel up it or down it either. nd grap d Iy 10 During the latter part of the afternoon we cooled our roasting interiors with ice-cold water from clear streams, the only really thely fet_ ind thepy satisfying water we had tasted since we left home, for at the blig hotels on the continent they merely give you a tumbler of ice to )YLI 1§ goak your water in, and that only modifies its hotness, doesn’t by th 1¢ make it cold. Water can only be made cold enough for summer e comfort by being prepared in a refrigerator or a closed ice- DE N d How do 10 pitcher. Europeans say ice water impairs digestion. they know ?—they never drink any. ride to court At ten minutes past six we reached the Kaltbad station, where there is a spacious hotel with great verandahs which com- mand a majestic expanse of lake and mountain scenery. We ling grass n were pretty well fagged out now, but as we did not wish to miss 14 10k wl the Alpine sunrise, we got through with our dinner as quickly as startle possible and hurried off to bed. It was unspeakably comfortable -0 e 0 to stretch our weary limbs between the cool damp sheets. And nized that we how we did sleep!—for there is no opiate like Alpine pedestrian- Jel in dtsom sm g i IV 0f In the morning we both awoke and leaped out of bed at the ) 4 ho;m it same instant and ran and stripped aside the window curtains, but we suffered a bitter disappointment again: it was already , the o) ot half-past three in the afternoon. ar, Nomte We dressed sullenly and in ill spirits, each accusing the other Harris said if we had brought the courier our gladues g of over-sleeping. nore, 9 obe along, as we ought to have done, we should not have missed these sunrises. I said he knew very well that one of us would have e gcnerou:}? o cameatos had to sit up and wake the courier; and I added that we were having trouble enough to take care of ourselves on this climb, | hlf o frane frer that, 18 without having to take care of a courier besides. ¢ one il During breakfast our spirits came up a little, since we found ¢ cents, 148 by the guide-book that in the hotels on the summit the tourist is not left to trust to luck for bLis sunrise, but is roused betimes 5, 6’ 77 a by a man who goes through the halls witha great Alpine horn, o fodlns ¥ menhat (09 blowing blasts that would raise the dead. And there was another consoling thing : the guide-book said that up there on the summit the guests did nof wait to dress much, but seized a ght pr 156 A TRAMP ABROAD. o ihe pest 1 red blanket and sailed out arrayed like an Indian, This was good; this would be romantic; two hundred and fifty people {he ol ¥ yelons f t 10 grouped on the windy summit, with their hair flying and their red blankets flapping, in the solemn presence of the snowy dartp ] osgh ranges and the messenger splendours of the coming sun, would d aud g be a striking and memorable spectacle. So it was good luck, not ill luck, that we had missed those other sunrises. 0 g fenton U: We were informed by the guide-book that we were now {ronlliey 3,228 feet above the level of the lake—therefore full two-thirds pecan e fime olr | Il of our journey had been accomplished. We got away at a e quarter past four p.M.; a hundred yards above the hotel the rail- i C\ldu\[ shoy way divided ; one track went straight up the steep hill, the other one turned square off to the right, with a very slight grade. il miols We took the latter, and followed it more than a mile, turned a Teen (e ct ( If we g dull b 0f rocky corner and came in sight of a handsome new hotel. had gone on, we should have arrived at the summit, but Harris anafifade, OU il 16 preferred to ask a lot of questions—as wusual, of a man who : didn’t know anything—and he told us to go back and follow the e sa0 att other route. We did so. We could ill afford this loss of time. Y We climbed and climbed; and we kept on climbing; we (ot reached about forty summits, but there was always another one olten just ahead. It came on to rain, and it rained in dead earnest. anay We were soaked through, and it was bitter cold. Next a smoky crusly de fog of clouds covered the whole region densely, and we took to ininp the railway ties to keep from getting lost. Sometimes we slopped display of | along in a narrow path on the left-hand side of the track, but how us o by-and-by, when the fog blew aside a little and we saw that we We g were treading the rampart of a precipice, and that our leftelbows Trepating were projecting over a perfectly boundless and bottomless draing.r vacancy, we gasped, and jumped for the ties again. ina come The night shut down, dark, and drizzly, and cold. About 1ot gef ne eight in the evening the fog lifted and showed us a well-worn fllllflflg a path which led up a very steep rise to the left. We took it, and and shive as soon as we had got far enough from the railway to render the There ye finding it again an impossibility, the fog shut down on us once more. i€ thvat f “elu We were in a bleak unsheltered place now, and had to trudge to gee right along in order to keep warm, though we rather expected to fourgt go over a precipice sooner or later. About nine o’clock we made Tnarkeq (¢ an important discovery—that we were not in any path. We cuveq by groped around a while on our hands and knees, but could not find it; so we sat down in the mud and the wet scant grass to e wuya; wait. We were terrified into this by being suddenly confronted with a vast bcdy which showed itself vaguely for an instant, and comfm o} éuppe, A TRAMP ABRO.D. 157 iy in the next instant was smothered in the fog again. i People It was really the hotel we were after, monstrously magnified by the fo (=} o, , but g aud the -t oy we took it for the face of a precipice and decided not to try to 3 5m, wo claw up it. We sat there an hour, with chattering teeth and quivering 00d hlck) ot bodies, and quarrelled over all sorts of trifles, but gave most of our attention to abusing each other for the stupidity of deserting 16 Were ny the railway track. We sat with our backs to that precipice, Lt because what little wind there was came from that quarter. At iy, e il some time or other the fog thinned a little; we did not know when, for we were facing the empty universe and the thinness , the ot could not show ; but at last Harris happened to look around, and quade, there stood a huge, dim, spectral hotel where the precipice had ) furned 4 been. hotel, Tt ye One could faintly discern the windows and chimneys, and a dull blur of lights. Our first emotion was deep, unutterable ity bt B E a man v gratitude, our next was a foolish rage, born of the suspicion that possibly the hotel had been visible three-quarters of an hour and follow the 10ss of time, while we sat there in those cold puddles quarrelling. Yes, it was the Rigi-Kulm hotel—the one that occupies the climbing; v extreme summit, and whose remote little sparkle of lights we had 3 another one often seen glinting high aloft among the stars from our balcony dead eamnest away down yonder in Lucerne. The crusty portier and the X a sty crusty clerks gave us the surly reception which their kind deal nd we took b in in prosperous times, but by mollifying them with an extra wesopped display of obsequiousness and servility we finally got them to the track, b show us to the room which our boy had engaged for us. ye We got into some dry clothing, and while our supper was our L€Lv £lOow preparing we loafed forsakenly through a couple of vast cavernous This stove was nd botionles drawing-rooms, one of which had a stove in it. in a corner, and densely walled around with people. We could ol Ao not get near the fire, so we moved at large in the arctic spaces, g g wellvon among a multitude of people who sat silent, smileless, forlorn, 7o took it 10 and shivering—thinking what fools they were to come, perhaps. to rnder e There were some Americans, and some Germans, but one could o on i 0nce see that the great majority were English. We lounged into an apartment where there was a great crowd, It was a memento-magazine. The pad fotrudy to see what was going on. tourists were eagerly buying all sorts and styles of paper-cutters, o expected! marked ¢ Souvenir of the Rigi,” with handles made of the little ] ock we A ¢ i curved horn of the ostensible chamois; there were all manner of : pat. wooden goblets and such things, similarly marked. I was going pub . 4 20 f to buy a paper-cutter, but I believed I could remember the cold cant g8 comfort of the Rigi-Kulm without it, so I smothered the impulse. confront Iy Supper warmed us, and we went immediately to bed; but ig! st 2 158 A TRAMP ABROAD. et af first, as Mr. Baedeker requests all tourists to call his attention to gt ald any errors which they may find in his guide-books, I dropped him ook b n fhe a line to inform him that when he said the foot journey from Jere Wiggis to the summit was only three hours and a quarter, he pundre Jand missed it by just about three days. I had previously informed pgup® H’S him of his mistake about the distance from Allerheiligen to Op- s long 88 penau, and had also informed the Ordnance Department of the { German Government of the same error in the Imperial maps. I 00 el will add, here, that I never got any answer to these letters, or allto any thanks from either of those sources; and what is still niore fold 10 discourteous, these corrections have not been made, either in the et b i maps or the guide-books. But I will write again when I get (\‘ it i time, for my letters may have miscarried. | geren 0 GO0 We curled up in the clammy beds, and went to sleep without 10 i ve (e 17 rocking. We were so sodden with fatigue that we never stirred (Xy od nor turned over till the blooming blasts of the Alpine horn aroused 1o us. It may well be imagined that we did not lose any time. We snatched on a few odds and ends of clothing, cocooned ourselves in the proper red blankets, and plunged along the halls and out into the whistling wind bare-headed. We saw a tall wooden scaffolding on the very peak of the summit, a hundred yards away, and made for it. oo We rushed up the stairs to the top of this scaf- herety folding, and stood there, above the vast outlying world, with hair flying and ruddy blankets waving and cracking in the fierce \n breeze. faly ¢ Fifteen minutes too late, at least!’ said ITarris, in a vexed gloam voice. ¢ The sun is clear above the horizon.’ horn-blo ¢ No matter,’ I said, ‘it is a most magnificent spectacle, and 1ot ouly we will see it do the rest of its rising, anyway.’ the su anly od In a moment we were deeply absorbed in the marvel before us, and dead to everything else. The great cloud-barred disk of what yot the sun stood just above a limitless expanse of tossing white-caps woming —so0 to speak—a billowy chaos of massy mountain domes and peaks draped in imperishable snow, and flooded with an opaline glory of changing and dissolving splendours, whilst through rifts in a black cloud-bank above the sun, radiating lances of diamond dust shot to the zenith. The cloven valleys of the lower world swam in a tinted mist which veiled the ruggedness of their crags I ket and ribs and ragged forests, and turned all the forbidding region Tyag, into a soft and rich and sensuous paradise. the gt We could not speak. We could hardly breathe. We Wishe] 1 could only gaze in drunken ecstasy and drink it in. Presently Warm ang Harris exclaimed— Ceededy ¢ Why, ——nation, it’s going down !’ 00l A TRAMP ABROAD. 159 LT Perfectly true. We bad missed the morning horn-blow, and T0pped ki slept all day. This was stupefying. Harris said,— 00y gy ¢ Look bere, the sun isn’t the spectacle—it’s us—stacked up g (I‘l"rter, e Lere on the top of this gallows, in these idiotic blankets, and two S infygg hundred and fifty well-dressed menand women down here gawk- tllgen ¢ One ing up at us and not caring a straw whether the sun rises or sets, e o as long as they’ve got such aridiculous spectacle as this to set g, | down in their memorandum-books, They seem to be laughing It their ribs loose, and there’s one girl there that appears to be going i1 = B 8t g all to pieces. I never saw such a man as you before. I think et gy vou are the very last possibility in the way of an ass.’ ¢ What have 7 done?”’ I answered with heat. D Whep | B ¢What have you done? You’ve got up at half-past legp wifhoy seven o’clock in the evening to see the sun rise, that's what ou’ve done. © Never stimed 16 horn aroued ¢ And have you done any better, I'd like to know ? I always used to get up with the lark, till T came under the petrifying in- any time, Ve ed ourele fluence of your turgid intellect.’ 8 halls and ou ¢ You used to get up with the lark! On, no doubt; you’ll \ a fall woo 1 get up with the hangman one of these days. But you ought to be d yard ashamed to be jawing here like this in a red blanket, on a forty- foot scaffold on top of the Alps. And no end of people down op of ¢ orld, with here to boot; this isn’t any place for an exhibition of temper.’ And so the customary quarrel went on. When the sun was o in the fire fairly down, we slipped back to the hotel in the charitable We had encountered the ina veued gloaming, and went to bed again. horn-blower on the way, and he had tried to collect compensation, not only for announcing the sunset, which we did see, but for t spectace @ the sunrise, which we had totally missed, but we said no, we only took our solar rations on the ‘European plan’—pay for , marvel befor{ | barred dikc what you get. He promised to make us hear his horn in the morning, if we were alive, sing hieOR s dones 1 ith an ol s hnongh 2 CHAPTER XXIX. s of diand? = he Jower WO ITE kept his word. We heard his horn and instantly got up. g Uf theif Cl‘ifl‘gi It was dark and cold and wretched. As I fumbled around for piding 4 the matches, knocking things down with my quaking hands, I wished the sun would rise in the middle of the day, when it was reathe: T j - warm and bright and cheerful, and one wasn’t sleepy. We pro- , P ceeded to dress by the gloom of a couple of sickly candles, but we could hardly button anything, our hands shook so. I thought of 160 A TRAMP ADROAD. 0 or W how many happy people there were in Europe, Asia, and America, o 0 and everywhere, who were sleeping peacefully in their beds and 1 C0! did not have to get up and see the Rigi sunrise—people who did egrees 0 ] | o8 not appreciate their advantage, as like as not, but would get u juddd g in the morning wanting more boons of Providence. While think- ) yid ing these thoughts I yawned, in a rather ample way, and my o iem, 200 upper teeth got hitched on anail over the door, and whilst I was g ! mounting a chair to free myself, arris drew the window curtain e s B as 0 and said— o sids ¢ Oh, this is luck ! We shan’t have to go out at all; yonder aple fom b are the mountains, in full view. e domn That was glad news, indeed. It made us cheerful right away. fin—amost One could see the grand Alpine masses dimly outlined against (ounties, fOW the black firmament, and one or two faint stars blinking through rifts in the night. Fully clothed, and wrapped in blankets, we meador, gt flock 0 huddled ourselves up, by the window, with lighted pipes, and fell into chat, while we waited in exceeding comfort to see how unique Gicd —mdall an Alpine sunrise was going to look by candle-light. By-and-by outand i a delicate, spiritual sort of effulgence spread itself by impercep- Jnges, ith tible degrees over the loftiest altitudes of the snowy wastes—but children mi there the effort seemed to stop. I said, presently— ¢ There isa hitch about this sunrise somewhere. It doesn’t before; the one or to] seem to go. ‘What do you reckon is the matter withit?’ ¢ I don’t know. It appears to hang fire somewhere. I never puddles— saw a sunrise act like that before. Can it be that the hotel is ear-drops formable f playing anything on us?’ ¢ Of course not. levels of ¢ The hotel merely has a property interest in the sun, it has nothing to do with the management of it. It'ista glided alon precarious kind of property, too; a succession of total eclipsrs the distanc Now what can be the matter the isthmy would probably ruin this tavern. with this sunrise ?’ stretch out knew fnvig Harris jumped up and said— ‘I've got it ! I know what’s the matter with it! We've been tancea tof looking at the place where the sun set last night !’ actl} thg ‘r ¢It is perfectly true! Why couldn’t you have thought of that Tatire preg sooner ? Now we've lost another one. And all through your tals gy IRES, g, blundering. It was exactly like you to light a pipe and sit down to wait for the sun to rise in the west.’ Lbeliey You a7, but | ‘It was exactly like me to find out the mistake, too. never would have found it out. I find out all the mistakes.’ Chosg Ihe Ia ey, Thy ¢ You make them all, too, else your most valuable faculty would be wasted on you. But don’t stop to quarrel now; may- A g be we arenot too late yet.’ ind g { But we were. The sun was well up when we got to the ex- 18 yerg ¢ Yahition ground. A TRAMP ABROAD. 161 ‘.d America) \ 1t beds gng On our way up we met the crowd returning—men and | women dressed in all sorts of queer costumes, and exhibiting all P whogi) degrees of cold and wretchedness in their gaits and countenances 0l gt While iy, A dozen still remained on the ground when we reached there, huddled together about the scaffold with their backs to the bitter 1, and Wl T g wind. They had their red guide-books open at the diagram of the view, and were painfully picking out the several mountains, vty and trying to impress their names and positions on their memo- ries. It was one of the saddest sights I ever saw. ol; youdy Two sides of this place were guarded by railings, to keep people from being blown over the precipices. ~The view, looking | ightaay, sheer down into the broad valley, eastward, from this great eleva- lned aging tion—almost a perpendicular mile—was very quaintand curious. king through Counties, towns, hilly ribs and ridges, wide stretches of green Dlnkets, wo meadow, great forest tracts, winding streams, a dozen blue lakes, ed pipes, and a flock of busy steamboats—we saw all this little world in It to see how unique circumstantiality of detail saw it just as the birds see it . By-udly - —and all reduced to the smallest of scales and as sharply worked by imperg- out and finished as a steel engraving. The numerous toy vil- lages, with tiny spires projecting out of them, were just as the . 7 Wastes—Dut children might have left them when done with play the day o, It docsat before; the forest tracts were diminished to cushions of moss; hit?’ one or two big lakes were dwarfed to ponds, the smaller ones to here. Tnever puddles—though they did not look like puddles, but like blue ear-drops which had fallen and lodged in elight depressions, con- f the hatel s formable to their shapes, among the moss-beds and the smooth levels of dainty green farm-land; the microscopic steamboats rty intere tofit, Tbiss glided along as in a city reservoir, taking a mighty time to cover the distance between ports which seemed only a yard apart; and total eclpss the isthmus which separated two lakes looked as if one might be the malte stretch out on it and lie with both elbows in the water, yet we knew invisible wagons were toiling across it and finding the dis- tance a tedious one. This beautiful miniature world had ex- | TVelve bt actly the appearance of those ‘relief maps’ which reproduce nature precisely, with the heights and depressions and other de- fought of tails graduated to a reduced scale, and with the rocks, trees, flrongh o lakes, etc., coloured after nature. : and ot dowd I believed we could walk down to Wiggis or Vitznau in a day, but I knew we could go down by rail in about an hour, so I foo. 100 ke, chose the latter method. I wanted to see what it was like, any- stk way. The train came along about the middle of the forenoon, Jnable and an odd thing it was. The locomotive boiler stood on end, o nom; and it and the whole locomotive were tilted sharply backward. There were two passenger cars, rocfed, but wide open all around. M B ot 0 the ¢5° 163 A TRAMP ADBROAD. These cars were not tilted back, but thé seats were; this enables fhe §thbsf the passenger to sit level while going down a steep incline. gantng & There are three railway tracks; the central one is cogged ; ol andn the ¢ lantern wheel’ of the engine grips its way along those cogs, the peasnm and pulls the train up the hill or retards its motion on the down of the S trip. About the same speed—three miles an hour—is main- fhe e Whether going up or down, the locomotive tained both ways. of 20° o is always at the lower end of the train. It pushes, in the one ceeding The passenger rides backwards case, braces back in the other. ~ {heip ar going up, and faces forward going down. the nor e e We got front seats, and while the train moved along about e raall fiL fifty yards on level ground, I was not the least frightened ; but 20°tadd now it started abruptly down stairs, and T caught my breath. Byt And T, like my neighbours, unconsciously held back, all I could, mb and threw my weight to the rear, but of course that did no I had slidden down the balusters when I was a by particular good. and boy, and thought nothing of it, but to slide down the balusters with u 0 in a railway train is a thing to make one’s flesh creep. Some- YIEW o { ‘: times we had as much as ten yards of almost level ground, and Loy this gave us a few full breaths in comfort; but straightway we would turn a corner and see a long steep line of rails stretching Japs down below us, and the comfort was at an end. One expected Bridee: 4 through \ to see the locomotive pause, or slack up a little, and approach strand, this plunge cautiously, but it did nothing of the kind ; it went Oneh calmly on, and when it reached the jumping-off place it made a gudden bow, and went gliding smoothly down st;;irfi,pntféublcd § creef houg ugh he by the circumstances. It was wildly exhilarating to slide along the edge of the pre- done jt— 80 en cipices after this grisly fashion, and look straight down upon that far-off valley which I was describing a while ago. fo see an There was no level ground at the Kaltbad station ; the rail- bed was as steep as a roof; I was curious to see how the stop was going to be managed. But it was very simple; the train came sliding down, and when it reached the right spot it just stopped—that was all there was to it’—stopped on the steep incline, and when the exchange of passengers and baggage had AN by been made, it moved off and went sliding down again. The togo ] train can be stopped anywhere, at a moment’s notice. Wndertyky There was one curious effect, which I need not take the himgglf trouble to describe, because I can scissor a description of it out Thinkj they dig of the railway company’s advertising pamphlet, and save my ink Sterarfgy, ;On the whole tour, particlarly at the Descent, we undergo All gmde.b%k l on optical illusion which often seems to be incredible. I fagt ) a e 0ut ) e, ( Sl A TRAMP ABROAD, 163 g the shirubs, fir-trees, stables, houses, etc., seem to be bent in a > el slanting direction, as by an immense pressure of air. They are % 00y, ) all standing awry, so much awry that the chélets and cottages of 1 1}19 oy the peasants seem to be tumbling down. R Jir‘. It is the consequence i of the steep inclination of the line. Those who are seated in congiy In { the carriage do not observe that they are going down a declivity 16 Ong of 20° to 25° (their seats being adapted to this course of pro- o I ceeding and being bent down at their backs). They mistake their carriage and its horizontal lines for a proper measure of the normal plain, and therefore all the objects outside, which ten (&} i I really are in a horizontal position, must chow a disproportion of my 20° to 25° declivity, in regard to the mountain.’ [ By the time one reaches Kaltbad, he has acquired confidence ot dvlru in the railway, and he now ceases to try to ease the locomotive by holding back. Thenceforward he smokes his pipe in serenity, n and gazes out upon the magnificent picture below and about him il with unfettered enjoyment. There is nothing to interrupt the | grownd, ¢ view or the breeze; it is like inspecting the world on the wing ITowever, to be exact, there is one place where the serenity ;:ghm”' NI lapses for a while; this is while one is crossing the Schnurrtobel )1 I e ¢ Bridge: a frail structure which swings its gossamer frame down nd a )i through the dizzy air, over a gorge, like a vagrant spider- strand. \Ce 10 One has no difficulty in remembering his sins while the train s o) i is creeping down this bridge ; and he repents of them, tco; though he sees, when he gets to Vitznau, that he need not have done it—the bridge was perfectly safe. 6 of the I 1af So ends the eventful trip which we made to the Rigi-Kulm I VoL to see an Alpine sunrise. on; 11} ! how le; { 16 CITAPTER XXX. t .PEE 1 n b 0 ba fult 008 {3 Ax hour’s sail brought us to Lucerne again. I judged it best 1] to go to bed and rest several days, for I knew that the man who g alll undertakes to make the tour of Europe on foot must take rare of himself, 10 f f ke fio il Thinking over my plans, as mapped out, I perceived that i of i they did not take in the Furka Pass, the Rhone Glacier, the Fin- d 57 steraarhorn, the Wetterhorn, ete . I immediately e 38 X& amined the guide-book to see if these were important, and found they were e unr’&I"” i in fact, a pedestrian tour of Europe could not be complete with- ed]b]é out them. Of course that decided me at once to sce them, for I M 2 164 A TRAMP ADROAD, whidh i 1]£\Cicr- never allow myzself to do things by halves, or in a slurring, slip- shod way. \\'afld‘?fin I called in my agent and instructed him to go without delay of these fherst and make a careful examination of these noted places, on foot, and bring me back a written report of the result, for insertion in L fon ¥ my book. I instructed him to go to Hospenthal as quickly as possible, and make his grand start from there; to extend his the gt -@ dlimb ! foot expedition as far as the Giesbach fall, and return to me from thence by diligence or mule. I told him to take the courier with started him. Jin g He objected to the courier, and with some show of reason, Jarze since he was about to venture upon new and untried ground ; heat € fhen W but I thought he might as well learn how to take care of the courier now as later, therefore I enforced my point. I said that Man's’ the trouble, delay, and inconvenience of travelling with a courier used f were balanced by the deep respect which a courier’s presence - e betwee commands, and I must insist that as much style be thrown into here my journeys as possible. of wea So the two assumed complete mountaineering costumes and of the departed. A week later they returned, pretty well used up, and pi\th j\ my agent handed me the following head ¢ and e OFFICIAL REPORT down | Washe Of ‘a Visit to the Furka Region. By H. Harris, Agent. Iitt}eh About 7 o’clock in the morning, with perfectly fine weather, to Jus Just we started from Iospenthal, and arrived at the maison on the tl 0y Furka in a little under quatre hours. The want of variety in the Th scenery from Ilospenthal made the Lahkahponecka wearisome; lacie but let none be discouraged : no one can fail to be completely Hitte recompensée for his fatigue, when he sees, for the first time, the CI0ss monarch of the Oberland, the tremendous Finsteraarhorn. A tedion moment before all was dulness, but a pas further has placed us the GI\ on the summit of the Furka; and exactly in front of us, at a sel, v lopow of only fifteen miles, this magnificent mountain lifts its to clim snow-wreathed precipices into the deep blue sky. The inferior mountains on each side of the pass form a sort of frame for the for son ped, an picture of their dread lord, and close in the view so completely that no other prominent feature in the Oberland is visible from Steraar} Titely this bong-a-bong ; nothing withdraws the attention from the soli- tary grandeur of the Finsteraarhorn and the dependent spurs g6 1y 0ur g]] which form the abutments of the central peak. With the addition of some others, who were also bound tor ('ld fflm the (trimsel, we formed a large xhvloj as we descended the steg Obfiged f A TRAMP ABROAD. 16 which winds round the shoulder of a mountain toward the Rhone Tiflg, dlp- alacier. We soon left the path and took to the ice; and after wandering amongst the crevasses un peu, to admire the wonders 00t dly 5 00 fC»()[] of these deep blue caverns, and hear the rushing of waters through st their subglacial channels, we struck out a course towards autre Quickly 5 coté and crossed the glacier successfully, a little above the cave extend by from which the infant Rhone takes its first bound from under 0 e froy the grand precipice of ice. Half a mile below this we began to ourier i climb the flowery side of the Meienwand. One of our party started before the rest, but the Zitze was so great that we found 7of ey him quite exhausted, and lying at full length in the shade of a large Gestein. We sat down with him for a time, for all felt the el round; carg of fhe heat exceedingly in the climb up this very steep bolwoggoly, and L said tt then we set out again together, and arrived at last near the Dead Man’s Lake, at the foot of the Sidelhorn. This lonely spot, once ith & e used for an extempore burying-place, after a sanguinary battue r's pree between the French and Austrians, is the perfection of desolation: thromn it there is nothing in sight to mark the hand of man, except the line of weather-beaten whitened posts, set up to indicate the direction ostumes used up od of the past in the owdawakk of winter. Near this point the foot- path joins the wider track, which connects the Grimsel with the head of the Rhone schnawp: this has been carefully constructed, and leads with a tortuous course among and over les pierres, f down to the bank of the gloomy little swosh-swosh, which almost | We arrived a s, A washes against the walls of the Grimsel Hospice. little before 4 o’clock at the end of our day’s journey, hot enough fine w to justify the step, taken by most of the partie, of plunging into 1aison the crystal water of the snow-fed lake. varily The next afternoon we started for a walk up the Unteraar 0 WeAIISODe glacier, with the intention of, at all events, getting as far as the bo complt] > Hitte which is used as a sleeping-place by most of those who bt time, 2 cross the Strahleck Pass to Grindelwald. We got over the thon, 3 | tedious collection of stones and débris which covers the pied of hag p‘;flCE U 1 the Gletcher, and had walked nearly three hours from the Grim- nt of U sel, when, just as we were thinking of crossing over to the right, nfaid == ' to climb the cliffs at the foot of the hut, the clouds, which had ) 1 16 1 for some time assumed a threatening appearance, suddenly drop- e for pad, and a huge mass of them, driving towards us from the Fin- so compltl steraarhorn, poured down a deluge of Zaboolong and hail. Fortu- qisle £ nately, we were not far from a very large glacier table; it was a from fhe ff""f huge rock balanced on a pedestal of ice high enough to admit of s ‘)e]]deflt bt our all creeping under it for gowkarak. A stream of puckittypulk had furrowed a course for itself in the ice at its base, and we were g i obliged to stand with one Fuss on each side of this, and endcavour } Jso bout e 1) pdet ! 166 A TRAMP ABROAD. s (0 to keep ourselves chaud by cutting steps in the steep bank of the pedestal, so as to get a higher place for standing on, as the wasscr o o rose rapidly in its trench. A very cold bzzzzzzzz¢ecee accompanied (n the storm, and made our position far from pleasant; and pre- oot d hat & sently came a flash of Blitzen, apparently in the middle of our peim little party, with an instantaneous clap of yokky, sounding like a nou large gun fired close to our ears: the effect was startling; but in e a few seconds our attention was fixed by the roaring echoes of the o thunder against the tremendous mountains which completely sur- T s rounded us. This was followed by many more bursts, none of make welche, however, was so dangerously near; and after waiting a onl long demi-hour in our icy prison, we sallied out to walk through [a8 a haboolong which, though not so heavy as before, was quite 1ot | enough to give us a thorough soaking before our arrival at the Near Hospice. walk The Grimsel is certainement a wonderful place; situated at the bottom of a sort of huge crater, the sides of which are utterly e 9\ savage Gebirge, composed of barren rocks which cannot even sup- seen port a single pine arbre, and afford only scanty food for a herd of the gmwlkwllolp, it looks as if it must be completely begraben in the for ] winter snows. Enormous avalanches fall against it every spring, of 1 sometimes covering everything to the depth of thirty or forty feet; ahoy and, in spite of walls four feet thick, and furnished with outside who iron shutters, the two men who stay here when the voyageurs are feag snugly quartered in their distant homes can tell you that the snow sometimes shakes the house to its foundations. ghe €x( Next morning the hogglebumguilup still continued bad, but ahu we made up our minds to go on, and make the best of it. ITalf cl an hour after we started the Regen thickened unpleasantly, and forn we attempted to get shelter under a projecting rock, but being far 100 too nass already to make standing at all agredable, we pushed on Com for the Handeck, consoling ourselves with the reflection that from 0vel the furious rushing of the river Aar at our side, we should at all to ] events see the celebrated Wasserfull in grande perfection. Nor byl were we nappersocket in our expectation ; the water was roaring down its leap of 250 feet in a most magnificent frenzy, while the thatr trees which cling to its rocky sides swayed to and fro in the alo violence of the hurricane which it brought down with it: even the stream, which falls into the main cascade at right angles, and asge toutfois forms a beautiful feature in the scene, was now swollen story into a raging torrent; and the violence of this ‘meeting of the ahoy waters,) about fifty feet below the frail bridge where we stood, e y was fearfully grand. While we were looking at it, glicklicheweise To. a gleam of sunshine came out, and instantly a beautiful rainbow €xch ang | 167 ank of the 4 TRAMP ABROAD. & Wasey was formed by the spray, and hung in mid air suspended over mpaie] the awful gorge. 3 and e On going into the chdlet above the fall, we were informed e of g e that a Bricke had broken down near Guttanen, and that it would iing e be impossible to proceed for some time : accordingly we were kept g bty in our drenched condition for eine Stunde, when some voyageurs chogs of arrived from Meyringen, and told us that there had been a trifling accident, aben that we could now cross. On arriving at the spot, pltely 1018 of I was much inclined to suspect that the whole story was a ruse to [} make us slowwk, and drink the more in the Handeck Inn, for h only a few planks had been carried away, and though there might M perhaps have been some difficulty with mules, the gap was certainly Avdl gl (e not larger than a mmbgle might cross with a very slight leap. Near Guttanen the haboolong happily ceased, and we had time to ) ltuat walk ourselves tolerably dry before arriving at Reichenbach, wo hareu we enjoyed a good dine at the Hotel des Alps. 0 Ten st Te Next morning we walked to Rosenlaui, the beau idéal of Swiss foral m— e ———— scenery, where we spent the middle of the day in an excursion to This was more beautiful than words can describe, rabn in‘t':.: the glacier. for in the constant progress of the ice it has changed the form ey § r forty of its extremity, and formed a vast cavern, as blue as the sky witho above, and rippled like a frozen ocean. A few steps cut in the ofjaqers e whoopjamboreehoo enabled us to walk completely under this, and The feast our eyes upon one of the loveliest objects in creation. o the suom glacier was all around divided by numberless fissures of the same exquisite colour, and the finest wood Erdbeeren were growing in ned ba abundance but a few yards from the ice. The inn stands in a 0f i charmant spot close to the coté de la riviere which, lower down, forms the Reichenbach fall, and embosomed in the richest of pine- hut e woods, while the fine form of the Wellhorn looking down upon it ye completes the enchanting bopple. In the afternoon we walked ion that 2 over the Great Scheideck to Grindelwald, stopping to pay a visit J‘ovuld to the Upper glacier by the way; but we were again overtaken 100 by bad hogglebumgullup, and arrived at the hotel in solche a state yas ! that the landlord’s wardrobe was in great request. o The clouds by this time seemed to have done their worst, for a lovely day succeeded, which we determined to devote to an ith 16 e‘ £ - ascent of the Faulhorn. We left Grindelwald just as a thunder- 65,0 1l f ang| storm was dying away, and we hoped to find guten Wetter up pow £ above; but the rain, which had nearly ceased, began again, and ¢l ng 0 we were struck by the rapidly increasing froid as we ascended. re e il 000y v Two-thirds of the way up were completed when the rain was i exchanged for gnillic, with which the Boden was thickly covered, j fil] rain I and before we arrived at the top the gnillic and mist became so 168 4 TRAMP ABRO.LD. ad 10k oty at thick that we could not see one another at more than twenty poopoo distance, and it became diflicult to pick our way over the il nlflfly rough and thickly covered ground. Shivering with cold we o0 e (A i turned into bed with a double allowance of clothes, and slept comfortably while the wind howled autour de la maison: when B I awoke, the wall and the window looked equally dark, but in ‘0 i another hour I found I could just see the form of the latter; so I jumped out of bed, and forced it open, though with difficulty, -~ ‘] from the frost and the quantities of gnillic heaped up against it. (S A row of huge icicles hung down from the edge of the roof, 4] and anything more wintry than the whole Anblick could not well i be imagined ; but the sudden appearance of the great mountains /] in front was so startling that I felt no inclination to move towards [ bed again. The snow which had collected upon la fenétre had increased the [Finsterniss oder der Dunlelheit, so that when I (0 N [ looked out I was surprised to find that the daylight was consider- (" able, and that the balragoomal would evidently rise before long. 1 Only the brightest of lcs etoiles were still shining; the sky was cloudless overhead, though small curling mists lay thousands of feet below us in the valleys, wreathed around the feet of the mountains, and adding to the splendour of their lofty summits. We were soon dressed and out of the house, watching the gradual i‘i approach of dawn, thoroughly absorbed in the first near view of Wha the Oberland giants, which broke upon us unexpectedly after the intense obscurity of the evening before. ¢ Kabaugwalkko song- washee Kum Wetterhorn snawpo !’ cried some one, as that grand summit gleamed with the first rose of dawn : and in a few moments ay the double crest of the Schreckhorn followed its example; peak after peak seemed warmed with life, the Jungfrau blushed even e | more beautifully than her neighbours, and soon, from the Wetter- (] horn in the East to the Wildstrubel in the West, a long row of fires glowed upon mighty altars, truly worthy of the gods. The wigw was very severe; our sleeping place could hardly be distingues Chin from the snow around it, which had fallen to the depth of a flirk during the past evening, and we heartily enjoyed a rough scramble Al en bas to the Giesbach falls, where we soon found a warm climate. Word At noon the day before at Grindelwald the thermometer could not have stood at less than 100° Fahr. in the sun; and in the evening, judging from the icicles formed, and the state of the windows, there must have been at least twelve dingblatter of frost, thus giving a change of 80° during a few hours. hagy I said— i ‘ You have done well, Harris; this report is concise, compact, 1ng g for of well expressed ; : the language is crisp, the descriptions are vivid A TRAMP ABROAD. 169 1t and not needlessly elaborated; your report goes straight to the e { ho point, attends strictly to business, and doesn’t fool around. It is Wl e in many ways an excellent document. But it has a fault—it is g ey too learned, it ismuch too learned. What is “ dingblatter”?’ 2 n Whep ¢ Dingblatter is a Fiji word meaning ¢ degrees. IK, g 1 ¢ You knew the English of it, then?”’ ol ey ) ¢ Oh yes. diffen! ¢ What is “ gnillic” ?’ aa) ¢ That is the Esquimaux term for “snow.”’ f the 1 ¢ So you knew the English for that too?’ dn 00 ¢ e ¢ Why, certainly.’ mounty ¢ What does “ mmbglx ” stand for ?’ ve towards 9 ¢ That is Zulu for “ pedestrian. e had ¢« While the form of the Wellhorn looking down upon it 1| completes the enchanting “ bopple.” What is “ bopple” 2’ It’s Choctaw.’ “ciPicture.” ¢ What is schnawp ’7?7 That is Choctaw also,? ¢ ¢ Valley.” 101 ¢ What is “ bolwoggoly " 1’ ¢ That is Chinese for ¢ hill,”? foet of um ¢ Kahkaaponeeka ?’ el G Nseentay Choctaw.’ ¢ “But we were again overtaken by bad ¢ hogglebumgullup.’ ” ear view ‘c:' What does hogglebumgullup mean ?’ ¢ That is Chinese for ¢ weather.”? ) ¢ Is hogglebumgullup better than the English word? Isit any more descriptive ? ¥ o ¢ No, it means just the same.’ mp ¢ And dingblatter, and gnillic,—and bopple, and schnawp,— I hed fl he W are they better than the English words?’ ¢ No, they mean just what the English words do.” TOW 0! Why have you used all this ne ¢ Then why do you use them ? Chinese and Choctaw and Zulu rubbish ?° e dist ¢ Because I didn’t know any French but two or three words, t hof and I didn’t know any Latin or Greek at all.’ ol ) SCT ¢ That is nothing. Why should you want to use foreign all words, anyhow ?”’ meter (010 ¢ To adorn my page. They all do it.’ qnd 10 I‘l'.E SWilio 1 s ali222 sate of te ¢ Everybody. Everybody that writes elegantly. Anybody therof 0% has a right to that wants to.’ ¢ I think you are mistaken.’ I then proceeded in the follow- ing scathing manner :—‘ When really learned men write books s, comth for other learned men to read, they are justified in using as many g are v 170 A TRAMP ABROAD, ol learned words as they please—their audience will understand or? them ; but a man who writes a book for the general public to PO read is not justified in disfiguring his pages with untranslated | foreign expressions. It is an insolence toward the majority of fish the purchasers, for it is a very frank and impudent way of say- the ing, “Get the translations made yourself if you want them; KU There are Jok this book is not written for the ignorant classes.” of | men who know a foreign language so well, and have used it so ear long in their daily life, that they seem to discharge whole volleys 3 the of it into their English writings unconsciously, and so they omit the to translate, as much as half the time. That is a great cruelty to nine out of ten of the man’s readers. What is the excuse i 0 for this? The writer would say he only uses the foreign language il where the delicacy of his point cannot be conveyed in English. I o Very well, then he writes his best things for the tenth man, and he ought to warn the other nine not to buy his book. However, 108 the excuse he offers is at least an excuse; but there is another 1ng set of men who are like you: they know a word here and there, 1 Th of a foreign language, or a few beggarly little three-word phrases, Wl filched from the back of the Dictionary,and these they are continu- 10 ally peppering into their literature, with a pretence of knowing il that language,—what excuse can they offer ? The foreign words Q} and phrases which they use have their exact equivalents in a At (%Y Qe nobler language,—English; yet they think they “adorn their page” when they say Strasse for street, and Balnhof for railway- e Vi station, and so on,—flaunting these fluttering rags of poverty in of the reader’s face, and imagining he will be ass enough to take them for the sign of untold riches held in reserve. I will let [N your “learning” remain in your report; you have as much right, I suppose, to ““adorn your page” with Zulu and Chinese and hi 18 Choctaw rubbish, as others of your sort have to adorn theirs with insclent odds and ends smouched from half-a-dozen learned hi tongues whose a-b abs they don’t even know.’ (0! When the musing spider steps upon the red-hot shovel, he ug first exhibits a wild surprise, then he shrivels up. Similar was 864 the effect of these blistering words upon the tranquil and un- 101 suspecting Agent. I can be dreadfully rough on a person when 4y the mood takes me. Py g CHAPTER XXXI. b il Weg WE now prepared for a considerable walk—from Lucerne to be} Interlaken, over the Briinig Pass. But at the last moment the 1l 00 A TRAMP 4BROAD. 171 derstand weather was so good that I changed my mind and hired a four- publio ¢y horse carriage. It was a huge vehicle, roomy, as easy in its sl motion as a palanquin, and exceedingly comfortable. oty o Y of gy We got away pretty early in the morning, after a hot break- fast, and went bowling along over a hard, smooth road, through 1t they: Thers gy the summer loveliness of Switzerland, with near and distant lakes and mountains before and about us for the entertainment Hflk? of the eye, and the music of multitudinous birds to charm the ear Sometimes there was only the width of the road between they (‘!;l the imposing precipices on the right and the clear cool water on ah cuely the left with its shoals of uncatchable fishes skimming about V7, £ EXcUse 1lan age through the bars of sun and shadow; and sometimes in place of the precipices, the grassy land stretched away, in an appar- ok Bilk ently endless upward slant, and was dotted everywhere with snug little chalets, the peculiarly captivating cottage of Switzerland. i The ordinary chilet turns a broad, honest gable end to the road, and its ample roof hovers over the home in a protect- ing, caressing way, projecting its sheltering eaves far outward. i The quaint windows are filled with little panes, and garnished I Con with white muslin curtains, and brightened with boxes of bloom- f k ing flowers. Across the front of the house, and up the spread- 1 WON ing eaves, and along the fanciful railings of the shallow porch, alents fni are elaborate carvings—wreaths, fruits, arabesques, verses from dom ther Scripture, names, dates, etc. The building is wholly of wood, or reddish brown in tint, a very pleasing colour. It generally has vines climbing over it. Set such a house against the fresh green o ngh of the hillside, and it looks ever so cosy and inviting and pictur- vl esque, and is a decidedly graceful addition to the landscape. ve a3 much One does not find out what a hold the chélet has taken upon him until he presently comes upon a new house—a house which (10 il is aping the town fashions of Germany and France, a prim, );EH Jearned hideous, straight-up-and-down thing, plastered all over on the outside to look like stone, and altogether so stiff, and formal, and ; 5]10\'61‘, !’.5 ugly, and forbidding, and so out of tune with the gracious land- Gimilar WS scape, and so deaf and dumb and dead to the poetry of its sur- roundings, that it suggests an undertaker at a picnic, a corpse at il and o son T8 a wedding, a puritan in Paradise. In the course of the morning we passed the ‘spot where Pontius Pilate is said to have thrown himself into the lake. The legend goes that after the Crucifixion his conscience troubled him and he fled from Jerusalem and wandered about the earth, weary of life and a prey to tortures of the mind. Eventually he hid himself away, on the heights of Mount Pilatus, and dwelt Tince rfle to i alone among the clouds and crags for years; but rest and peace nomefl 172 4 TRAMP ADROAD. were still denied him, so he finally put an end to his misery by Jisan fack drowning himself. Presently we passed the place where a man of better odonr PN was born. g S This was the children’s friend Santa Claus, or St. Nicholas. There are some unaccountable reputations in the itk world. This saint’s is an instance. e has ranked for ages as e the peculiar friend of children, yet it appears he was not much s of a friend to his own. He had ten of them, and when fifty ) years old he left them, and sought out as dismal a refuge from - Ihey the world as possible and became a hermit in order that he PC‘t it b might reflect upon pious themes without being disturbed by the joyous and other noises from the nursery, doubtless. hav ~ Judging by Pilate and St. Nicholas, there exists no rule for sl the construction of hermits : they seem made out of all kinds of fou material. But Pilate attended to the matter of expiating his sin i while he was alive, whereas St. Nicholas will probably have to go bro on climbing down sooty chimneys, Christmas Eve, for ever, and conferring kindness on other people’s children, to make up for the deserting his own. His bones are kept in a church in a village the (Sachseln), which we visited, and are naturally held in great do reverence. His portraitis common in the farmhouses of the region, the but is believed by many to be but an indifferent likeness. During jul his hermit life, according to the legend, he partook of the bread il and wine of the communion once 0f the month he fasted. /amon’th, but. all t/he rest of / il Il A constant marvel with us, as Welsped‘valong tfie bases of the a steep mountains, on this journey, was, not that avalanches occur, One does not he but that they are not occurring all the time. Wl understand why rocks and landslides do not plunge down these declivities daily. A landslip occurred three quarters of a k| T century ago, on the route from Arth to Brunnen, which was a if formidable thing. A mass of conglomerate two miles lon o) g, a fa thousand feet broad, and a hundred feet thick, broke away from I¢] a cliff three thousand feet high and hurled itself into the valley below, burying four villages and five hundred people, as in a Wa grave, We had such a beautiful day, and such endless pictures of It ]Gal limpid lakes, and green hills and valleys, and majestic mountains, and milky cataracts dancing down the steeps and gleaming in the ! the eg sun, that we could not help feeling sweet toward all the world ; so we tried to drink all the milk, and eat all the grapes and o] apricots and berries, and buy all the bouquets of wild flowers ling ‘E ing which the little peasant boys and girls offered for sale; but we had to retire from this contract, for it was too heavy. At short War barr A TRAMP ADROAD, 173 1ser) by distances—and they were entirely too short—all along the road, ! odony were groups of neat and comely children, with their wares nicely ) o §f, and temptingly set forth in the grass under the shade trees, and 10 g as soon as we approached they swarmed into the road, holding Tares g out their baskets and milk bottles, and ran beside the carriage, 10} mygh barefoot and bareheaded, and importuned us to buy. They seldom desisted early, but continued to run and insist—beside the wag- then fiy ae fop gon while they could, and behind it until they lost breath, Then r that b - they turned and chased a returning carriage back to their trading el by the post again. After several hours of this, without any intermission, it becomes almost annoying. I do not know what we should have done without the returning carriages to draw off the pur- 0 Tule for suit. However, there were plenty of these, loaded with dusty ‘Ki;l s r1 tourists and piled high with luggage. Indeed, from Lucerne to Y I e 0 20 Interlaken we had the spectacle, among other scenery, of an un- broken procession of fruit pedlars and tourist carriages. ever, aud ke up for Our talk was mostly anticipatory of what we should see on the down grade of the Briinig, by-and-by, after we should pass 1.4 villge the summit. All our friends in Lucerne had said that to look | in gl down upon Meiringen, and the rushing blue-gray river Aar, and le region the broad level green valley; and across at the mighty Alpine 3. During the bread precipices that rise straight up to the clouds out of that valley; and up at the microscopic chalets perched upon the dizzy eaves e test of of those precipices and winking dimly and fitfully through the drifting veil of vapour; and still up and up, at the superb Oltschi- ases of the bach and the other beautiful cascades that leap from those rugged che I I heights, robed in powdery spray ruflled with foam, and girdled o does et with rainbows—to look upon these things, they said, was to look ow thee upon the last possibility of the sublime and the enchanting. tors of 8 Therefore, as I say, we talked mainly of these coming wonders; hich was & if we were conscious of any impatience, it was to get there in s long; 8 favourable season ; if we felt any anxiety, it was that the day might (lWIl)' 1 remain perfect, and enable us to sce those marvels at their best. the valley As we approached the Kaiserstuhl, a part of the harness gave o 131 way. We were in distress for a moment, but only a moment. It was the fore-and-aft gear that was broken—the thing that ieures f leads aft from the forward part of the horse and is made fast to the thing that pulls the waggon. In America this would have ountains ingin the been a heavy leathern strap; but all over the continent it is nothing but a piece of rope the size of your little finger—clothes- he \\'01'] j line is what it is. !mFeS an Cabs use it, private carriages, freight carts g floves and waggons, all sorts of vehicles have it. In Munich I after- wards saw it used on a long waggon laden with fifty-four half- ¢ but ¥ YAt short barrels of beer; I had before noticed that the cabs in Heidelberg 174 A TRAMP ABROAD. fe used it;—not new rope, but rope that had been in use since nd i Abraham’s time—and I had felt nervous, sometimes, behind it, yotere when the cab was tearing down a hill. But I had long been ac- odou customed to it now, and had even become afraid of the leather gt ) B strap which belonged in its place. Our driver got a fresh piece of clothes-line out of his locker and repaired the break in two foamid J dre minutes. give So much for one European fashion. Every country has its any fhy own ways. It may interest the reader to know how they ‘put 3 tof’ I 10 horses to’ on the continent. The man stands up the horses on 0l each side of the thing that projects from the front end of the waggon, and then throws the tangled mass of gear on top of the horses, and passes the thing that goes forward through a ring, il (1 4 Im [ and hauls it aft, and passes the other thing through the other ring Wl (918 and hauls it aft on the other side of the other horse, opposite to driver the first one, after crossing them and bringing the loose end datter back, and then buckles the other thing underneath the horse, and he I takes another thing and wraps it around the thing I spoke of be- U fore, and puts another thing over each horse’s head, with broad flappers to it to keep the dust out of his eyes, and puts the iron Tell in d thing in his mouth for him to grit his teeth on, up hill, and brings the ends of these things aft over his back, after buckling dram scene another one around under his neck to hold his head up, and ¢ A hitching another thing on a thing that goes over his shoulders to m(l(iE keep his head up when he is climbing a hill, and then takes the slack of the thing which I mentioned a while ago, and fetches prett it aft and makes it fast to the thing that pulls the waggon, and fons I never diffe hands the other things up to the driver to steer with. have buckled up a horse myself, but I do not think we do it that inth the | way. We had four very handsome horses, and the driver was very ling, proud of his turn-out. He would bowl along on a reasonable amby trot, on the highway, but when he entered a village he did it on a furious run, and accompanied it with a frenzy of ceaseless whip and { He tore talle (1 crackings that sounded like volleys of musketry. through the narrow streets and around the sharp curves like a five the g moving earthquake, showering his volleys as he went, and before him swept a continuous tidal wave of scampering children, ducks, toh (] cats, and mothers clasping babies which they had snatched out be w, of the way of the coming destruction; and as this living wave g washed aside, along the walls, its elements, being safe, forgot they § la} their fears and turned their alluring gaze upon that gallant King driver till he thundered around the next curve and was lost i to sight. (“ A TRAMP ABROAD, 1 | %y Ny He was a great man to those villagers, with his gaudy clothes hin i and his terrific ways. Whenever he stopped tohave his cattle BEN 3¢ watered and fed with loaves of bread, the villagers stood around g Allley admiring him while he swaggered about, the little boys gazed up 1 Dlece (f at his face with humble homage, and the landlord brought out £ 10ty foaming mugs of beer and conversed proudly with him while he drank. Then he mounted his lofty box, swung his explo- 7 hag Ity sive whip, and away he went again, like a storm. Ihad not seen 0t anything like this before since I was a boy, and the stage used to flourish through the village with the dust flying and the horn of zhé tooting. 0p of the When we reached the base of the Kaiserstuhl, we took two h 8 g, more horses ; we had to toil along with difficulty foran hour and 0 a half or two hours, for the ascent wasnot very gradual, but 10} when we passed the backbone and approached the station, the loge end driver surpassed all his previous efforts in the way of rush and and clatter. He could not have six horses all the time, so he made the most of his chance while he had it. € 01 08 pith broad Up to this point we had been in the heart of the William ts the on Tell region. The hero is not forgotten, by any means, or held p bl and in doubtful veneration. His wooden image, with his bow drawn, above the doors of taverns, was a frequent feature of th3 r buckling d up, and scenery. houldersto About noon we arrived at the foot of the Briinig pass, and made a two-hour stop at the village hotel, another of those clean, then takes d fetehs pretty, and thoroughly well-kept inns which are such an as- 00 all 9 { tonishment to people who are accustomed to hotels of a dismally different pattern in remote country towns. There was a lake here, h‘::l ¢ yet e doithat in the lap of the great mountains, the green slopes that rose toward the lower crags were graced with scattered Swiss cottages nest- or a8 VeIy ling among miniature farms and gardens, and from out a leafy ambuscade on the upper heights tumbled a brawling cataract. s reasonal Carriage after carriage, laden with tourists and trunks, arrived, e didit We were early at the and the quiet hotel was soon populous. seless 7D table d’héte, and saw the people all come in. There were twenty=~ He tore five, perhaps. They were of various nationalities, but we were e ke the only Americans. Next to me sat an English bride, and next and be? to her sat her new husband, whom she called ¢ Neddy,” though Jren, ducks he was big enough and stalwart enough to be entitled to his full afched 00 name. They had a pretty little lover’s quarrel over what wine i ing Ve they should have. Neddy was for obeying the guide-book and i ot taking the wine of the country; but the bride said— ab gnllant = ¢ What, that nahsty stuff !’ j s o ‘Tt isn’t nahsty, Pet, it's quite good.’ 4 176 A TRAMP ABROAD. / [hroughf ¢ It s nahsty. / tamovel ¢ No, it ¢sn’¢ nahsty. / ¢Tt’s oful nahsty, Neddy, and I shanh’t drink it.’ said toa Joscent Then the question was, what she must have. She said he knew very well that she never drank anything but champagne. Jomnin She added— ofavhi corksir ‘You know very well papa always has champagne on his table, and I’ve always been used to it.’ we ol them if Neddy made a playful pretence of being distressed about the there I expense, and this amused her so much that she nearly exhausted herself with laughter, and this pleased Z¢m so much that he repeated his jest a couple of times, and added new and killing pem varieties to it. When the bride finally recovered, she gave our e amived Neddy a love-box on the arm with her fan, and said with arch 1oad, | severity— ¢ Well, you would kave me—nothing else would do—so the pree three fe youw'll have to make the best of a bad bargain. Do order the champagne, I'm oful dry.’ ot hav So with a mock groan which made her laugh again, Neddy Tl seen ordered the champagne. Tirope The fact that this young woman had never moistened the Isted In selvedge edge of her soul with a less plebeian tipple than cham- CEH[HT}' pagne had a marked and subduing effect upon Iarris. e ing thn believed she belonged to the royal family. But I had my doubts. wheel d We heard two or three different languages spoken by people quered at the table, and guessed out the nationalities of most of the the \\'pyl guests to our satisfaction, but we failed with an elderly gentle- We man and his wife and a young girl who sat opposite us, and with and thif a gentleman of about thirty-five who sat three seats beyond Harris. and prof We did not hear any of these speak. ‘ But finally the last-named grasy b ) gentleman left while we were not noticing, but we looked up as ling s} he reached the far end of the table. He stopped there a moment, tance d{.u and made his toilet with a pocket comb. So he was a German; allogeth or else he had lived in German hotels long enough to catch the the ;U 3 fashion. When the elderly couple and the young girl rose to it i leave they bowed respectfully to us. So they were Germans, Tty too This national custom is worth six of the other one, for exrort. tishofy Tient; e After dinner we talked with several Englishmen, and they about [ inflamed our desire, to a hotter degree than ever, to see the € zesf, sights of Meiringen from the heights of the Briinig pass. They Rever ol said the view was marvellous, and that one who had seen it once could never forget it. They also spoke of the romantic nature of medisme, the road over the pass, and how in one place it had been cut Iy “l;bec 4 T]éA;’lIP ABROAD, 177 through a flank of the solid rock, in such a way that the moun- tain overhung the tourist as he passsd by ; and they furthermore i by said that the sharp turns in the road and the abruptness of the descent would afford us a thrilling experi Jillllpagne' ence, for we should go down in a flying gallop and seem to be spinning around the rings of a whirlwind, like e g corkscrew. a drop of whisky descending the spirals of a I got all the information out of tl 1ese gentlemen that abont g we could need ; and then, to make everyt hing complete, I asked exhangte] them if a body could get hold of a little fruit and milk here and there, in case of necessity. The 1 that b y threw up their hands in speech- less intimation that the road w as simply paved with refreshment and kfl!ing pedlars. We were impatient 8he fave to get away now, and the rest of s our two-hour stop rather d ragged. But finall y the set time | with anh arrived and we began the ascent. road. Indeed, it was a wonderful It was smooth, and compact, and clean, and the side next I do—g o onder e v the precipices was guarded all along by dressed stone posts about three feet high, pl aced at short distances apart. The road could not have been better buil t if Napoleon the First had built it. 'H:H, I\ tll: ITe seems to have been tl 1e introducer of the sort of roads which i wope now uses. All literature which describes life as it ex- Istened fhe isted in England, France, and Germany up to the close of the last than chan- century is filled with pictures of coacl 1es and carriages wallow- armis. I ing throngh tl 1ese three countries in mud and slush half- g do wheel deep; but after Napoleon had floundered tl irough a cen- n by people quered kingdom he gener most O the world could follow ally arranged things so that the rest of dry shod. len We went on climbing, higher and 1 d higher, and curving hither us, and and thither, in the shade of noble wood Sy and with a rich variety joud Hans and profusion of wild flowers all about us; and glimpses of rounded st aunel grassy back-bones below us occupied by trim chélets and nib- bling sheep, and other glin ooked mp & 1pses of far lower altitudes, where dis- 0 3 IOEL tance diminished the chil ets to toys and obliterated the shee o 4 Germa:y!: altogether ; and every now and then some ermined monarch of to catch fe the Alps swung magnifice ntly into view for a moment, then drifted pastan intery il 1o ¥ ening spur and disappeared again. o (ermath It was an intoxicatin satisfaction that follows g trip, altogether ; the exceeding sense of er 0t a good dinner added la rgely to the enjoy- ment; the having something es about, like the a pecial to look forward to, and muse y, and tiy pproaching grandeurs of Meiringen, sharpened ] o the zest. Smoking w as never so good before, solid comfort was 10 gop W o I never solider ; we lay back ag: unst the thick cushions, silent, meditative, steeped in felicity. seel it 01169' > io patire 0 ] bos ¥ I rui)bed my eyes, :)pened .them, ar;d started. i l;nd been N 178 A TRAMP ABROAD. qu:l'lnt dreaming I was at sea, and it was a thrilling surprise to wake up gefs 0 and find land all around me. It took me a couple of seconds to ovenss ¢ come to, as you may say ; then I took in the situation. The wih horses were drinking at a trough in the edge of a town, the i | driver was taking beer, Harris was snoring at my side, the qegn courier, with folded arms and bowed head, was sleeping on the a>péc‘ box, two dozen barefooted and bareheaded children were gathered about the carriage, with their hands crossed behind, gazing up with serious and innocent admiration at the dozing tourists et dark baking there in the sun. Several small gitls held night-capped babies nearly as big as themselves in their arms, and even these (ne mous fat babies seemed to take a sort of sluggish interest in us. fhe We had slept an hour and a half and missed all the scenery ! If I had been a girl, T I did not need anybody to tell me that. ahou could have cursed for vexation. As it was, I woke up the agent and gave him a piece of my mind. Instead of being humiliated, foth fowa he only upbraided me for being so wanting in vigilance. He dd said he had expected to improve his mind by coming to Europe, but a man might travel to the ends of the earth with me and gréfl‘ tine never see anything, for I was manifestly endowed with the very genius of ill-luck. He even tried to get up some emotion about e that poor courier, who never got a chance to see anything, on timi'\ ; account of my heedlessness. But when I thought I had borne about enough of this kind of talk, I threatened to make Harris adl ofa tramp back to the summit and make a report on that scenery, and this suggestion spiked his battery. and We drove sullenly through Brienz, dead to the seductions of g of its bewildering array of Swiss carvings and the clamorous hoo- hooing of its cuckoo clocks, and had not entirely recovered our cour F YaT—— oent spirits when we rattled across the bridge over the rushing blue river and entered the pretty town of Interlaken. It was just sty about sunset, and we had made the trip from Lucerne in ten scho hours. ml old ling fort CHAPTER XXXII. loviy 1 “WVE located ourselves at the Jungfrau Hotel, one of those huge the & establishments which the needs of modern travel have created in every attractive spot on the Continent. There was a great g &ony gathering at dinner, and as usuul one heard all sorts of lan- o g] guages. Ebi!’an The table d’hdte was served by waitresses dressed in the g, A TRAMP ABROAD. Wk ) quaint and comely costume of the Swiss peasants. This con- oonds 0, The sists of a simple gros de laine, trimmed with ashes of roses, with overskirt of sacreblew ventre saint gris, cut bias on the off side, o, g with facings of petit polonaise and narrow insertions of paté de sile {he e foie gras backstitched to the mise-en-scéne in the form of a jeu 1 on { desprit. It gives to the wearer a singularly piquant and alluring Yo oof fa 1) aspect. One of these waitresses, a woman of forty, had side whiskers " They were two fingers broad, ofirisffi reaching half way down her jaw. i ] dark in colour, pretty thick, and the hairs were an inch long. 1 e One sees many women on the Continent with quite conspicuous 118, N~ moustaches, but this was the only woman Isaw who had reached o eenery | the dignity of whiskers. e gl | After dinner the guests of both sexes distributed themselves p the a0, about the front porches and the ornamental grounds belonging Ul 0 to the hotel, to enjoy the cool air; but as the twilight deepened i | | towards darkness, they gathered themselves together in that [0 saddest and solemnest and most constrained of all places, the ? fh e great blank drawing-room which is a chief feature of all Con- ith the tinental summer hotels. There they grouped themselves about, 101, in couples and threes, and mumbled in bated voices, and looked njih timid and homeless and forlorn. a0 0 There was a small piano in this room, a clattery, wheezy, make asthmatic thing, certainly the very worst miscarriage in the way it seetr of a piano that the world has seen. In turn, five or six dejected and home-sick ladies approached it doubtingly, gave it a single inquiring thump, and retired with the lockjaw. But the boss of that instrument was to come, nevertheless; and from my own morous poovered country—from Arkansaw. She was a brand-new bride, inno- cent, girlish, happy in herself and her grave and worshipping I stripling of a husband; she was about eighteen, just out of school, free from affectations, unconscious of that passionless cerne 14 multitude around her; and the ver first time she smote that old wreck one recognised that it had met its destiny. Her strip- ling brought an armful of aged sheet music from their room— for this bride went ¢ heeled,” as you might say—and bent himself lovingly over and got ready to turn the pages. The bride fetched a swoop with her fingers from one end ot i the key-board to the other, just to get her bearings, as it were, f those 7o (re and you could see the congregation set their teeth with the g agony of it. Then, without any more preliminaries, she turned was & on all the horrors of the ‘Battle of Prague, that venerable gt 0 She shivaree, and waded chin-deep in the blocd of the slain. i made a fair and honourable average of two false notes in every ik Gd N 2 180 A TRAMP ADROAD. 1do five, but her soul was in arms and she never stopped to correct, b The audience stood it with pretty fair grit for a while, but when the cannonade waxed hotter and fiercer, and the discord-average pardly ! Jave rose to four in five, the procession began to move. A few stragglers held their ground ten minutes longer, but when the ]'udgmf Ii girl began to wring the true inwardness out of the ¢ cries of the wounded,” they struck their colours and retired in a kind of panie. bl of the There never was a completer victory; I was the only non- combatant left on the field. I would not have deserted my feet h fhedt countrywoman anyhow, but indeed I had no desires in that direction. None of us like mediocrity, but we all reverence fore dow perfection. This girl’s music was perfection in its way ; it was the worst music that had ever been achieved on our planet by a in the distan mere human being. I moved up close, and never lost a strain. When she got four o She did it with a pleased through, I asked her to play it again. five ti_ 1l alacrity and a heightened enthusiasm. She made it all discords, this time. She got an amount of anguish into the cries of the attrac wounded that shed a new light on human suffering. She was block on the war-path all the evening. All the time, crowds of people every gathered on the porches and pressed their noses against the keep windows to look and marvel, but the bravest never ventured in. Man) The bride went off satisfied and happy with her young fellow,when 4 COU herappetite was finally gorged, and the tourists swarmed in again. L saw What a change has come over Switzerland, and in fact all fiien Burope, during this century! Seventy or eighty years ago wortl Napoleon was the only man in Europe who could really be called the a traveller; he was the only man who had devoted his attention in B cour] to it and taken a powerful interest in it; he was the only man who had travelled extensively; but now everybody goes every- 1 where ; and Switzerland, and many other regions which were tom unvisited and unknown remotenesses a hundred years ago, arein It our days a buzzing hive of restless strangers every summer. But Plice I digress. stepp In the morning, when we looked out of our windows, we saw th ) a wonderful sight. Across the valley, and apparently quite 0Wer neighbourly and close at hand, the giant form of the Jungfrau prise rose cold and white into the clear sky, beyond a gateway in the 0 wh nearer highlands. It reminded me, somehow, of one of those ‘] colossal billows which swell suddenly up beside one’s ship, at 1l sea, sometimes, with its crest and shoulders snowy white, and ‘] the rest of its noble proportions streaked downward with creamy ‘A foam ‘I I took out my sketch-book and made a little picture of the hig i Jungfrau, merely to get the shape, A TRAMP ABROAD. 181 ) Ot U ey I do not regard this as one of my finished works, in fact I do 'a\'&mge A1 not rank it among my Works at all; it is only a study; it is A foy hardly more than what one might call a sketch. Other artists When gy have done me the grace to admire it; but I am severe in my 16807 ) judgments of my own pictures, and this one does not move me. Lof It was hard to believe that that lofty wooded rampart on the on left which so overtops the Jungfrau was not actually the higher of the two, but it was not, of course. It is only 2,000 or 8,000 feet high, and of course has no snow upon it in summer, whereas 610 { ey the Jungfrau is not much short of 14,000 feet high, and there- ' fore that lowest verge of snow—on her side, which seems nearly Y3 1t wag Jallg 1 e fhya down to the valley level—is really about 7,000 feet higher up in the air than the summit of the wooded rampart. It is the distance that makes the deception. The wooded height is but four or five miles removed from us, but the Jungfrau is four or 14 five times that distance away. Walking down the street of shops, in the forenoon, I was attracted by a large picture, carved, frame and all, from a single block of chocolate-coloured wood. There are people who know everything. Some of these had told us that continental shop- keepers always raise their prices on English and Americans. ‘. n Many people had told us it was expensive to buy things through ellowm a courier, whereas I had supposed it was just the reverse. When od I saw this picture I conjectured that it was worth more than the jul friend I proposed to buy it for would like to pay, but still it was worth while to inquire; so I told the courier to step in and ask the price, as if he wanted it for himself; I told him not to speal in English, and above all not to reveal the fact that he was a courier. 6 Ol Then I moved on a few yards, and waited. u The courier came presently and reported the price. I said o were to myself, ¢ It is a hundred francs too much,” and so dismissed the 0, 161l matter from my mind.. But in the afternoon I was passing that o b place with Harris, and the picture attracted me again. We 1me stepped in to see how much higher broken German would raise the price. The shopwoman named a figure justa hundred francs s, we s lower than the courier had named, ntly q}ifff This was a pleasant sur- Jun| 1] orrall prise. I said I would take it. After I had given directions as o nt to where it was to be shipped, the shopwoman said, appealingly— 0 (I those ¢ If you please, do not let your courier know you bough it.’ This was an unexpected remark. I said— 's ghitey &% —— ¢ What makes you think I have a courier ?’ ¢ Ah, that is very simple; he told me himself? creanf ¢ He was very thoughtful. But tell me—why did you charge him more than you are charging me?’ 0 of the 18 A TRAMP ABROAD. il ¢That is very simple, also : I do not have to pay you a per- el | centage.’ You would have had to pay the courier yhose ! ¢Oh, I begin to see. Jim, ' a percentage.’ ~~TUndoubtedly. The courier always has his percentage. In peratm mea this case it would have been a hundred francs.’ ¢ Then the tradesman does not pay a part of it—the purchaser confu§ pays all of il where ¢There are occasions when the tradesman and the courier Heis agree upon a price which is twice or thrice the value of the 105 4 article, and then the two divide, and both get a percentage.’ ‘I see. But it seems to me that the purchaser does all the the d order paying, even then.’ ¢Oh, to be sure ! It goes without saying.’ day y ‘But I have bought this picture mysell; therefore why to hir shouldn’t the courier know it?’ chang The woman exclaimed, in distress— put § IIe would the b ¢ Ah, indeed it would take all my little profit! come and demand his hundred francs, and I should have to pay.’ peid You could refuse.’ to Ser ¢He has not done the buying. ¢ T could not dare to refuse. He would never bring travellers can f and here again. More than that, he would denounce me to the other couriers, they would divert custom from me, and my business A would be injured.’ effor I went away in a thoughtful frame of mind. I began to see hotly why a courier could afford to work for fifty-five dollars a month their and his fares. A month or two later I was able to understand anof] o why a courier did not have to pay any board and lodgin o , and TECON heart why my hotel bills were always larger when I had him with me than when I left him behind, somewhere, for a few days. «“ office Another thing was also explained, now, apparently. In one town I had taken the courier to the bank to do the translating dogs, Wl‘flpi when I drew some money. I had sat in the reading-room till bflbit.‘ the fransaction was finished. Then a clerk had brought the then money to me in person, and had been exceedingly polite, even ang | going o far as to precede me to the door and hold it open for are me and bow me out as if I had been a distinguished personage. fime, It was a new experience. Exchange had been in my favour ever and o I got since I had been in Europe, but just that one time. 0 simply the face of my draft, and no extra francs, whereas I had alloy expected to get quite a number of them. This was the first time arg ju I had ever used the courier at a bank. I had suspected some- furheg, thing then, and as long as he remained with me afterwards I B, managed bank matters by myself, to 866 § 4 TRAMP ABROAD. 183 1 por Still, if I felt that I could afford the tax, I would never E Ouriey travel without a courier, for a good courier is a convenience whose value cannot be estimated in dollars and cents. Without \Iage, I him, travel is a bitter harassment, a purgatory of little exas- perating annoyances, a ceascless and pitiless punishment—I Purchasgy mean to an irascible man who has no business capacity and is confused by details. 16 Without a courier, travel hasn’t a ray of pleasure in it, any- 01 g - where ; but with him it is a continuous and unruffled delight, He is always at hand, never has to be sent for; if your bell is l L g 1 not answered promptly—and it seldom is—you have only to open the door and speak, the courier will hear, and he will have the order attended to or raise an insurrection. You tell him what day you will start, and whither you are going—leave all the rest el yly to him. You need not inquire about trains or fares, or car changes, or hotels, or anything else. At the proper time he will put you in a cab or an omnibus, and drive you to the train or He v 0 I | W the boat; he has packed your luggage and transferred it, he has [Ol ] paid all the bills. Other people have preceded you half an hour to scramble for impossible places and lose their tempers, but you o travels can take your time, the courier has secured your seats for you, and you can occupy them at your leisure. 1Y othe ( At the station, the crowd mash one another to pulp in the effort to get the weighers’ attention to their trunks; they dispute hotly with these tyrants, who are cool and indifferent; they get a1l their baggage billets, at last, and then have another squeeze and another rage over the disheartening business of trying to get them recorded and paid for, and still another over the equally dis- m ith e heartening business of trying to get near enough to the ticket office to buy a ticket; and now, with their tempers gone to the 1“ e dogs, they must stand penned up and packed together, laden with ) { wraps and satchels and shawl-straps, with the weary wife and 70010 babies, in the waiting-room, till"the doors are thrown open—and hy then all hands make a grand final rush to the train, find it full, D10 OLLEE and have to stand on the platform and fret until some more cars nen 10 are put on. They are in a condition to kill somebody by this 1 Ope* time. Meantime you have been sitting in your car, smoking, favo I el and observing all this misery in the extremest comfort. On the journey the guard is polite and watchful—won’t e 17 preds Jud allow anybody to get into your compartment—tells them you fimé are just recovering from the small-pox and do not like to be dis- ho oL ed qome turbed. For the courier has made everything right with the guard. At way-stations the courier comes to your compartment herwaf § to see if you want a glass of water, or a newspaper, or anything ; 184 4 TRAMP ADROAD. at eating-stations he sends luncheon out to you, while the other people scramble and worry in the dining-rooms. If anything breaks, about the car you are in, and the station-master proposes to pack you and your agent into a compartment with strangers, N p ! the courier reveals to him confidentially that you are a French ade 0 duke, born deaf and dumb, and the official comes and makes i 10se affuble signs that he has ordered a choice car to be added to the it train for you. At custom-houses the multitude file through, hot oughl tediously 101 Ju X and irritated, and look on while the officers burrow into the 19 trunks and make a mess of everything ; but you hand your keys nof & to the courier and sit still. Perhaps you arrive at your destina- tion in a rainstorm at ten at night—you generally do. The il boa multitude spend half an hour verifying their baggage and getting it transferred to the omnibuses; but the courier puts you into a inth vehicle withouta moment’s loss of time, and when you reach your Jived hotel you find your rooms have been secured two or three days in advance, everything is ready, you can go at once to bed. il Was, Some of those other people will Lave to drift around to two or three hotels, in the rain, before they find accommodations. aga I have not set down half of the virtues that are vested in a S0 good courier, but I think I have set down a sufliciency of them nd to show that an irritable man who can afford one and does not &= inde employ him is not a wise economist. My courier was the worst and cont one in BEurope, yet he was a good deal better than none at all. It could not pay him to be a better one than he was, because I tem| could not afford to buy things through him. IHe was a good whi cnough courier for the small amount he got out of his service. am Yes, to travel with a courier is bliss, to travel without one is the Juds reverse. and I have had dealings with some very bad couriers; but 1 have have \ also had dealings with one who might fairly be called perfection. 1le was a young Polander, named Joseph N. Verey. He spoke knoy eight languages, and seemed to be equally at home in all of them ; Iy he was shrewd, prompt, posted, and punctual; he was fertile in degp resources, and singularly gifted in the matter of overcoming once difficulties ; he not only knew how to do everything in his line, galn but he knew the best ways and the quickest; he was handy with iflg J children and invalids; all his employer needed to do was to take itsy; life easy and leave everything to the courier. His addressis, care oulti of Mr. O. H. Caygill, 8371 Strand, London. Excellent couriers and are somewhat rare; if the reader is about to travel, he will find 10§ gy it to his advantage to make a note of this one. Clriog Sud0p | A TRAMP ABROAD. 185 the ofhep jthing Dioposgy CIIAPTER XXXIII m'&ngm’ 8 Hrengh Tue beantiful Giesbach Fall is near Interlaken, on the other i ghey ed ty side of the lake of Brienz, and is illuminated every night with those gorgeous theatrical fires whose name I cannot call just at this moment. This was said to be a spectacle which the tourist i ought by no means to miss. I was strongly tempted, but I could W 1nto hy The o not go there with propriety, because one goes in a boat. Lyour task which I had set myself was to walk over Europe on foot, U I not skim over it in a boat. I had made a tacit contract with yd I was willing to make myself; it was my duty to abide by it. boat-trips for pleasure, but I could not conscientiously make thewm U 1nto al' in the way of business. It cost me something of a pang to lose that fine sight, but T Ie¢ lived down the desire, and gained in my self-respect through the to triumph. I had a finer and a grander sight, however, where I was. This was the mighty dome of the Jungfrau softly outlined 18 against the sky and faintly silvered by the starlight. There was something subduing in the influence of that silent and solemn and awful presence; one seemed to meet the immutable, the 0y of indestructible, the eternal, face to face, and to feel the trivial he wors and fleeting nature of his own existence the more sharply by the contrast. tall One had the sense o being under the brooding con- templation of a spirit, not an inert mass of rocksand ice—a spirit 5 4 which had looked down, through the slow drift of the ages, upon a million vanished races of men, and judged them; and would uf ope & judge a million more—and still be there, watching, unchanged and unchangeable, after all life should be gone and the earth s Jid have become a vacant desolation. ) 3! While I was fecling these things, I was groping, without i o §p0ic knowing it, toward an understanding of what the spell is which {4 allo I WGy people find in the Alps, and in no other mountains—that strange, deep, nameless influence which, once felt, cannot be forgotten— ) Qverco once felt, leaves always behind it a restless longing to feel it lal I again—a longing which is like homesickness; a grieving, haunt- n b Jandy W10 ing yearning, which will plead, implore, and persecute till it has its will. I met dozens of people, imaginative and unimaginative, s 10156 ress ISy ar cultivated and uncultivated, who had come from far countries and roamed through the Swiss Alps year after year—they cou'ld il cgufl?rfl not explain why. They had come first, they said, out of idle il curiosity, because everybody talked about it; they had comse s.uce because they could not help it, and they should keep u:.1 186 A TRAMP ABROAD. ey coming, while they lived, for the same reason; they had tried yho 48 ( to break their chains and stay away, but it was futile ; now they had no desire to break them. Others came nearer formulating s il what they felt; they said they could find perfect rest and peace nowhere else when they were troubled; all frets and worries fhe ré and chafings sank to sleep in the presence of the benignant a4 gregfi fhe 11 serenity of the Alps; the Great Spirit of the Mountain breathed I his own peace upon their hurt minds and sore hearts, and healed them ; they could not think base thoughts or do mean and sordid enollg‘ —~ Arkar things here, before the visible throne of God. Down the road a piece was a Kursaal—whatever that may a forn be—and we joined the human tide to see what sort of enjoyment h)' {h e it might afford. It was the usual open-air concert, in an orna- mental garden, with wines, beer, milk, whey, grapes, etc.—the The whey and the grapes being necessaries of life to certain invalids houg tofi whom physicians cannot repair, and who only continue to exist by the grace of whey or grapes. One of these departed spirits hol told me, in a sad and lifeless way, that there was no way for him — its € asif to live but by whey; never drank anything, now, but whey, and dearly, dearly loved whey, he didn’t know whey he did, but g]’(‘?‘ he did. After making this pun he died—that is the whey it the ! served him. i Some other remains, preserved from decomposition by the 4— ou grape system, told me that the grapes were of a peculiar breed, to ] highly medicinal in their nature, and that they were counted out and administered by the grape-doctors as methodically as if they Wa il were pills. The new patient, if very feeble, began with one 0cCl grape before breakfast, took three during breakfast, a couple between meals, five at luncheon, three in the afternoon, seven at lo 0K dinner, four for supper, and part of a grape just before going to fl 16 bed by way of a general regulator. The quantity was gradually 00g and regularly increased, according to the needs and capacity of The the patient, until by-and-by you would find him disposing of his one grape per second all the day long, and his regular barrel per Spec day. mist {he e said that men cured in this way, and enabled to discard um | the grape system, never afterward got over the habit of talking the as if they were dictating to a slow amanuensis, because they the ;i always made a pause between each two words while they sucked the substance out of an imaginary grape. He said these were ol He said that men who had been tedious people to talk with. alle cured by the other process were easily distinguished from the rest of mankind because they always tilted their heads back of ug fl e § between every two words, and swallowed a swig of imaginary breat 87 A TRAMP ABROAD. | frigg ITe said it was an impressive thing to observe two men i they whey. 1\11afing who had been cured by the tw o processes engaged in conversa- tion—said their pauses and accompanying movements Were so L Deaca at a stranger would think himself in Vg continuous and regular th One finds out the presence of a couple of automati ¢ machines. gy elling if he stumbles upon breafheg a great many wonderful things by trav d hegl) the right person. I did not remain long at the Kursaal; the music was good Wsorig med ratler tame after the cyclone of that enough, but it see Arkansaw expert. Besides my adventurous spirit had conceived tl}at gy thing less than a trip from Interlaken, a formidable enterprise—mno So it was an by th ¢ Gemmi and Visp, clear t o Zermatt, on foot! he details, and get ready for an early start. efe necessary to plan ¢ 110! The courier (this w as not the one I have just been speaking of ) 1§ thought that the portier of the hotel would be able to tell us how 10 He showed us the to find our way. And so it turned out. whole thing on a relief-map, and we could see our route, with all J for b its elevations and depressions, its villages and its rivers, as clearly it e as if we were sailing over it in a balloon. A relief-map isa did, bus The portier also wrote down each day’s journey and great thing. Whey i the nightly hotel on a piece of paper, and made our course so plain that we should never be able to get lost wi thout high-priced n by te outside help. ar breed, I put the courier in the ¢ are of a gentleman who was going unted ouf to Lausanne, and then we went to bed, after laying out the asif they walking costumes and putting them into condition for instant with oe occupation in the morning. down to breakfast at 8 A.M., it § ol However, when we came looked so much like rain that I hired a two-horse top-buggy for l, SEV.EH i the first third of the journey. For two or three hours we 0 goig {0 h skirts the beautiful lake of \f jogged along the lev el road whic of Thun, with a dim an d dreamlike picture of watery expanses and 10 14 OI 1§ spectral Alpine forms a lways before us, veiled in a mellowing mist. Then a steady downpour set in, and hid e verything but ba?rel per the nearest objects. We kept the rain out of our faces with umbrellas, and away from our bodies with the leather apron of fo diard lne but the driver sat unsheltered, and placidly soaked of ta LS the buggy ; We had the road all to quse ] the weather in and seemed to like it. ourselves, and I never had a pleasanter excursion. o sucked hese Tr® The weather began to clear while we were driving up a valley called the Kienthal, and presently a vast black cloud-bank in front Jad 1e2 and uncurtained the grand proportions and fyon 12 of us dissolved away It was a sort of the soaring loftinesses of the Blumis Alp. mds baf' mgid] breath-taking surprise; for we had not supposed there was any- 18% A TRAMP ABROAD. ot thing behind that low-hung blanket of sable cloud but level gl hf valley. What we had been mistaking for fleeting glimpses of e { sky away aloft there were really p atches of the Blumis’s snowy U crest caught through shredded rents in the drifting pall of vapour. Rflndf We dined in the inn at Frutigen, and our driver ought to nud I have dined there too, but he would not have had time to dine and 1l flue get drunk both, so he gave his mind to making a masterpiece of st the latter, and succeeded. A German gentleman and his two far young lady daughters had been taking their nooning at the inn, 4rou and when they left, just alicad of us, it was plain that their driver of e was as drunk as ours, and as happy and good-natured too, which 1t wa was saying a good deal. These rascals overflowed with atten- mile tions and information for their guests, and with brotherly love abot for each other. They tied their reins, and took off their coats trash and hats, so that they might be able to give unencumbered Tw attention to conversation and to the gostures necessary for its illustration. hety mal Al The road was smooth; it led up and over and down a con- hg ad tinual succession of hills; but it was narrow, the horses were but used fo it, and could not well get out of it anyhow; so why shouldn’t the drivers entertain themselves and us ? The noses 11e of our horses projected sociably into the rear of the forward carriage, and as we toiled up the long hills our driver stood u Jow two and talked to his friend, and his friend stood up and talked back to him, with his rear to tl dow and we went fl 1e scenery. When the top was reached, id ying down the other side, there was no change in the programme. I carry in my memory yet the picture of that (fas forward driver, on his knees on his hi gh seat, resting his elbows on its back, and beaming down on his passengers, w a b ith happy 106 eye, and flying hair, and jolly red face, and off ering his card P to the old German gentleman, while he praised his hack and hoo thry horses, and both teams were whizzing down a long hill with nobody in a position to tell whether we were bound to destruc- char Case tion or an undeserved safety. Toward sunset we entered a be autiful green valley dotted Wag bell with chélets, a cosy little domain, h idden away from the busy world in a cloistered nook, among giant precipices topped with 400 snowy peaks that seemed to float like isl il WWa ands above the curling surf of the sea of vapour that severed them from the lower b(x 18, world. Down from vague and vaporous heights, little ruffled 18y zigzag milky currents came crawling, and found their way to the ()i Id verge of one of those tremendous ov erhanging walls, whence they (BB R NI S S If plunged, a shaft of silver, shivered t 0 atoms in mid-descent, and lo 750 turned to an airy puff of luminous duast. Iere and there, in em g A TRAMP ABROAD. 189 u le\vel grooved depressions among the snowy desolations of the upper [‘1[ \%[S (,t altitudes, one glimpsed the extremity of a glacier, with its sea- 10y y green and honeycombed battlements of ice. Iy Aoy Up the valley, under a dizzy precipice, nestled the village of S0t Kandersteg, our halting-place for the night. We were soon there, & ang and housed in the hotel. But the waning day had such an inviting of influence that we did not remain housed many moments, but o struck out and followed a roaring torrent of ice-water up to its gl far source in a sort of little grass-carpeted parlour, walled in all around by vast precipices and overlooked by clustering summits Whigy Nl of ice. This was the snuggest little croquet-ground imaginable ; atlen, it was perfectly level, and not more than a mile long by half a i) mile wide. The walls around it were so gigantic, and everything about it was on so mighty a scale, that it was belittled, by con- trast, to what I have likened it to—a cosy and carpeted parlour. J lor ity It was so high above the Kandersteg valley that there was nothing between it and the snow-peaks. I had never been in such inti- VD & oon mate relations with the high altitudes before; the snow-peaks had always been remote and unapproachable grandeurs hitherto, §0 W but now we were hob-a-nob—if one may use such a seemingly irreverent expression about creations so august as these. 6 101val We could see the streams which fed the torrent we had fol- lowed issuing from under the greenish ramparts of glaciers; but two or three of these, instead of flowing over the precipices, sank down into the rock and sprang in big jets out of holes in the mid-face of the walls. The green nook which I have been describing is called the Ire (Gasternthal. lbos The glacier streams gather and flow through it in a broad and rushing brook to a narrow cleft between lofty preci- { pices; here the rushing brook becomes a mad torrent and goes booming and thundering down towards Kandersteg, lashing and | il thrashing its way over and among monster boulders, and hurling TG chance roots and logs about like straws. There was no lack of OdEl cascades along this route. The path by the side of the torrent was so narrow that one had to look sharp when he heard a cow- ]a dofi?d bell, and hunt for a place that was wide enough to accommodate {he busy a cow and a Christian side by side, and such places were not ) el wilh always to be had at an instant’s notice. The cows wear church- [4 g bells, and that is a good idea in the cows, for where that torrent e lovet is you couldn’t hear an ordinary cow-bell any further than you Jp rui? could hear the ticking of a watch. o il I needed exercise, so I employed my agent in setting stranded el logs and dead trees adrift, and I sat on a boulder and watched genfy & them go whirling and leaping head over heels down the boiling ety 190 A TRAMP ABROAD. 51131‘}71) torrent. It was a wonderfully exhilarating spectacle. When 1 had had exercise enough, I made the agent take some, by running ond fhing a race with one of those logs. I made a trifle by betting on the log. inchll“ el 1 After dinner we had a walk up and down the quiet Kander- i fhi steg valley, in the soft gloaming, with the spectacle of the dying lights of day playing about the crests and pinnacles of the still (l) 1ng : 1 ot 1St and solemn upper realm for contrast, and text for talk. There were no sounds but the dull complaining of the torrent and the Jng occasional tinkling of a distant bell. The spirit of the place was e him. i a sense of deep, pervading peace; one might dream his life tranquilly away thef'e, and not miss it or mind it when it was 251! dow gone. The summer departed with the sun, and winter came with fob the stars. It grew to be a bitter night in that little hotel, backed chil up against a precipice that had no visible top to it; but we kept warm, and woke in time in the morning to find that everybody 0D else had left for the Gemmi three hours before—so our little plan pre 80, of helping that German family (principally the old man) over the Pass was a blocked generosity. oo be Ay, Wi be CHAPTER XXXIV. loc We hired the only guide left, to lead us on our way. He was (i over seventy, but he could have given me nine-tenths of his He shouldered W strength and still had all his age entitled him to. fi our satchels, overcoats, and alpenstocks, and we set out up the It was hot work. The old man soon begged us to i steep path. W hand over our coats and waistcoats to him to carry, too, and we th did it; one could not refuse so little a thing to a poor old man tn like that; he should have had them if he had been a hundred il and fifty. When we began that ascent, we could see a microscopic il chilet perched away up against heaven on what seemed to be the highest mountain near us. It was on ourright, across the narrow an head of the valley. But when we got up abreast it, on its own & Wl level, mountains were towering high above on every hand, and we saw that its altitude was just about that of the little Gastern- By Je thal which we had visited the evening before. Still, it seemed a long way up in the air, in that waste and lonely wilderness of flo rock. It had an unfenced grass-plot in front of it which seemed fie) A Ky about as big as a billiard-table, and this grass-plot slanted so Whi A TRAMP ABROAD, 191 Whey b) nyipy sharply downwards, and was so brief, and ended so exceedingly Gl g o soon at the verge of the absolute precipice, that it wasa shuddery thing to think of a person’s venturing to trust his foot on an incline so situated at all. Suppose a man stepped on an orange- o Kandy 0 the d)}p peel in that yard : there would be nothing for him to seize ; sof h nothing could keep him from rolling; five revolutions would talk, 1T bring him to the edge, and over he would go. What a frightful ot distance he would fall !—for there are very few birds that fly as high as his starting-point. e would strike and bounce, two or 16 Dlag i three times on his way down, but this would be no advantage to him. I would as soon take an airing on the slant of a rainbow When it g as in such a front yard. I would rather, in fact, for the distance ¢ down would be about the same, and it is pleasanter to slide than to bounce. I could not see how the peasants got up to that but we chélet—the region seemed too steep for anything but a balloon. db As we strolled on, climbing up higher and higher, we were continually bringing neighbouring peaks into view, and lofty our 0 man prominences which had been hidden behind lower peaks before ; )0 50, by-and-by, while standing before a group of these giants, we looked around for the chilet again: there it was, away down below us, apparently on an inconspicuous ridge in the valley ! It was as far below us, now, as it had been above us'when we were beginning the ascent. After a while the path led us along a railed precipice, and we looked over—far beneath us was the snug, parlour again, the little Gasternthal, with its water-jets spouting from the face of its rock walls. We could have dropped a stone into it. We had been Ie finding the top of the world all along—and always finding a still i 0 uf up i higher top stealing into view in a disappointing way just ahead ; be ""id s 00 when we looked down into the Gasternthal we felt pretty sure 0, and 1 fiv that we had reached the genuine top at last, but it was not so; We were o ol e there were much higher altitudes to be scaled yet. en o hundd still in the pleasant shade of forest trees, we were still in a region which was cushioned with beautiful mosses and aglow with the o many-tinted lustre of innumerable wild-flowers. ped fobe We found, indeed, more interest in the wild-flowers than m S thg I]‘flm"‘ anything else. We gathered a specimen or two of every kind { on ifs om which we were unacquainted with; so we had sumptuous bouquets. But one of the chief interests lay in chasing the seasons of the r’ hflfld; flfl\ ilo Gase year up the mountain and determining them by the presence of it st flowers and berries which we were acquainted with. For in- yild st { stance, it was the end of August at the level of the sea; in the pih #2* Kandersteg valley, at the base of the Pass, we found flowers which would not be due at the sea level for two or three weeks ; b slfiflwd 4 I 192 A TRAMP ABROAD. e 159 higher up we entered October, and gathered fringed gentians. i 00 € I made no notes, and have forgotten the details, but the con- o Jne @ struction of the floral calendar was very entertaining while it poutted 0 lasted. s 00U In the high regions we found rich store of the splendid red 080 flower called the Alpine rose, but we did not find any example A one of the ugly Swiss favourite, called Edelweiss. Its name seems to rend indicate that it is a noble flower and that it is white. It may be qon i1 il noble enough, but it is not attractive, and it is not white. The discouraged fuzzy blossom is the colour of bad cigar ashes, and appears to be i\ Jii 0 made of a cheap quality of grey plush. It has a noble and dis- rally ek tant way of confining itself to the high altitudes, but that is doubtles probably on account of its Jooks; it apparently has no monopoly edatein f of those upper altitudes, however, for they are sometimes in- upon. a0 truded upon by some of the loveliest of the valley families of wild-flowers. Everybody in the Alps wears a sprig of Edelweiss empty 163 in his hat. owning i It is the native’s pet, and also the tourist’s. All the morning, as we loafed along, having a good time, the wofld 0] T Il other pedestrians went staving by us with vigorous strides, and smilele with the intent and determined look of men who weie walking for a wager. and 1 These wore loose knee-breeches, long yarn stock- semblanc ings, and hobnailed high-laced walking-shoes. They were creature! gentlemen who would go home to Ingland or Germany and tell how many miles they had beaten the guide-bock every day. —— el o ages hnd But I doubted if they ever had much real fun, outside of the energy, bases wa mere magnificent exhilaration of the tramp through the green split off valleys and the breezy heights; for they were almost always alone, and even the finest scenery loses incalculably when there is oy no one to enjoy it with. place v Working All the morning an endless double procession of mule-mounted tourists filed past us along the narrow path—the one procession gatenwa going, the other coming. We had taken a good deal of trouble Wajstio to teach ourselves the kindly German custom of saluting all White U o grove S strangers with doffed hat, and we resolutely clung to it that morning, although it kept us bare-headed most of the time and Interegt Still we found an interest in the was not always responded to. anjthing thing, because we naturally liked to know who were English and hay at 100 n Americans among the passers-by. All Continental natives 1e- sponded, of course; so did some of the English and Americans, and g but as a general thing these two races gave no sign. Whenever Uelrig a man or a woman showed us cold neglect, we spoke up con- the ven fidently in our own tongue and asked for such information as we apect happened to need, and we always got a reply in the same lan- SUggestiop guage. The English and American folk are not less kindly than Ourisbjng A TRAMP ABROAD. 163 o Gentiang, other races, they are only more reserved, and that comes of U the . g i habit and education. In one dreary, rocky waste, away above the line of vegetation, we met a procession of twenty-five mounted young men, all from America. Pleadg g We got answering bows enough from these, of course, for they were of an age to Syl learn to do in Rome as Rome does, without much effort. dme ey At one extremity of this patch of desolation, overhung by Ll bare and forbidding crags which husbanded drifts of everlasting Wh snow in their shaded cavities, was a small stretch of thin and aPpears discouraged grass, and a man and a family of pigs were actually 0l a living here in some shanties. Consequently this place could be b £ f} 2t really reckoned as ‘property;’ it had a money value, and was 10 mongy) || doubtless taxed. I think it must have marked the limit of real estate in this world. It would be hard to set a money value upon any piece of earth that lies between that spot and the Edeneg empty realm of space. That man may claim the distinction of N Q owning the end of the world, for if there is any definite end to the world he has certainly found it. ] golayd fig From here forward we moved through a storm-swept and €0 W smileless desolation. All about us rose gigantic masses, crags, yam and ramparts of bare and dreary rock, with not a vestige or They semblance of plant or tree or flower anywhere, or glimpse of any 1an creature that had life. The frost and the tempests of unnumbered & ages had battered and hacked at these cliffs, with a deathless U6 energy, destroying them piecemeal ; so all the region about their Al bases was a tumbled chaos of great fragments which had been split off and hurled to the ground. Soiled and aged banks of snow lay close about our path. The ghastly desolation of the place was as tremendously complete as if Doré had furnished the E working plans for it. But every now and then, through the stern gateways around us, we caught a view of some neighbouring 16 P! 1L 0L fr majestic dome, sheathed with glittering ice, and displaying its white purity at an elevation compared to which ours was Sl al g f0 1 1 grovelling and plebeian, and this spectacle always chained one’s interest and admiration at once, and made him forget there was he fim anything ugly in the world. erest 10 il I have just said that there was nothing but death and deso- Fng | [ lation in these hideous places, but I forgot. In the most forlorn nfizi V~€S 16 and arid and dismal one of all, where the racked and splintered Americi débris was thickest, where the ancient patches of snow lay against TV heneret the very path, where the winds blew bitterest and the general ke up o aspect was mournfullest and dreariest, and furthest from any fion 1 suggestion of cheer or hope, I found a solitary weé forget-me-not e 1 flourishing away, not a droop about it anywhere, but holding its indy it { 4 TRAMP ABROAD. 194 {hofot of bright blue st ar up with the prettiest and gallantest air in the world, the only happy spirit, the only smiling thing, in all that b o, P ¢ Cheer up!—as long as we 1t°€h yith grisly desert. She seemed to say, the are here, let us m ake the best of it.’ I judged she had earned a furbe so I plucked her up and sent of it s right to a more hospitable place; Jacier, & her to America to a friend who wou 1d respect her for the fight she had made, all by her small self, to make a whole vast {hemsel® breaking its heart over the fleto despondent Alpine desolation stop at the bright side of unalterable, and hold up its head and look fhree s things for once. and begd a strongly built little inn called arn 410 We stopped for a nooning at the Schwarenbach. It sits in a lonely spot among the peaks, orm, ] where it is swept by the trailing fringes of the cloud-rack, and is Jikeal rained on, snowed on, and pelted and persecuted by the storms and od nearly every day of its life. It was the only habitation in the canght whole Gemmi Pass. Tosa Close at hand, now, was a chance for a blood-curdling Alpine could b adventure. Close at hand was the snowy mass of the Great Warmel He Altels cooling its top-knot in the sky and daring us to an ascent. T was fired with the idea, and immediately made up my mind to of snoy deliver procure the necessary guides, ropes, ete., and undertake it. I in- structed Harris to go to the landlord of the inn and set him about heights our preparations. Meantime I went diligently to work to read moved T up and find out what this much-talked-of mountain-climbing was like, and how one should go about it—for in these Platea matters I was ignorant. I opened Mr. Hinchliff’s ¢ Summer clingin Months among the Alps’ (published 1857), and selected his fronte account of his ascent of Monte Rosa. It began— < and ¢TIt is very difficult to free the mind from excitement on the aside evening before a grand expedition—— was b T saw that T was too calm; so I walked the room a while and tumed worked myself into a high excitement; but the book’s next 1633 g remark—that the adventurer must get up at two in the morning By —came as near as anything to flatting it all out again. How- two, ever, I reinforced it, and read on, about how Mr. Hinchliff Mont dressed by candle-light and was ‘soon down among the guides, ] who were bustling about in the passage, packing provisions, and frea gelogen . e T the Al making every preparation for the start;’ and how he glanced out Breith into the cold clear night and saw that— ¢The whole sky was blazing with stars, larger and brighter T g onge than they appear through the dense atmosphere breathed by inhabitants of the lower parts of the earth. They seemed slp Ped 00 {hej actually suspended from the dark vault of heaven, and their thougyy gentle light shed a fairy-like gleam over the snow-fields around ndfle w Al )y the A TRAMP ABROAD. 195 ] gy the foot of the Matterhorn, which raised its stupendous pinnacle O 8 o on high, penetrating to the heart of the Great Bear, and crowning 0 eame] 3 itself with a diadem of his magnificent stars. Not a sound dis- U an gy turbed the deep tranquillity of the night, except the distant roar for e of streams which rush from the high plateau of the St. Theodule ‘ \R'nole VVfl:t glacier, and fall headlong over precipitous rocks till they lose ’tht ‘over fhe d 14 themselves in the mazes of the Gorner glacier.’ f A0 bl I He took his hot toast and coffee, and then ahout half-past three his caravan of ten men filed away from the Riffel Hotel, lo i.nn al and began the steep climb. At half-past five he happened to 7 the turn around, and ¢ beheld the glorious spectacle of the Matter= horn, just touched by the rosy-fingered morning, and looking like a huge pyramid of fire rising out of the barren ocean of ice and rock around it.’ Then the Breithorn and the Dent Blanche caught the radiant glow; but ‘the intervening mass of Monte il Al Rosa made it necessary for us to climb many hours before we f the could hope to see the sun himself, yet the whole air soon grew toe 0404 warmer after the splendid birth of day.’ Iy m He gazed at the lofty crown of Monte Rosa and the wastes ke 1t of snow that guarded its steep approaches, and the chief guide gt jim delivered the opinion that no man could conquer their awful york to heights and put his foot upon that summit. But the adventurers moved steadily on, nevertheless. ain-clim They toiled up, and up, and still up; they passed the Grand for i Plateau ; then toiled up a steep shoulder of the mountain, ¢ (] clinging like flies to its rugged face; and now they were con- = fronted by a tremendous wall from which great blocks of ice ment o1 the and snow were evidently in the habit of falling. They turned aside to skirt this wall, and gradually ascended until their way was barred by a ‘maze of gigantic snow crevasses’—so they 14 lo turned aside again, and ¢ began a long climb of sufficient steep- b ne ness to malke a zigzag course necessary.’ the mer o310 two. Fatigue compelled them to halt frequently for a moment or At one of these halts somebody called out, ‘Look at . Hi Mont Blanc !’ and ¢ we were at once made aware of the very great height we had attained by actually seeing the monarch of ) & the Alps and his attendant satellites right over the top of the ] ‘ g}ancedW [ Breithorn, itself at least 14,000 feet high !’ These people moved in single file, and were all tied to a nd it | | strong rope, at regular distances apart, so that if one of them ralbed ] slipped on those giddy heights, the others could brace themselves on their alpenstocks and save him from darting into the valley, ey S0 thousands of féet below. nd 0 By-and-by they came to an ice-coated Jds ano? ridge which was tilted up at a sharp angle and had a precipice o2 A TRAMP ABROAD. 196 b hent on one side of it. They had to climb this, so the guide in the e other lead cut steps in the ice with his hatchet, and as fast as he took fifld mk'll‘\{ his toes out of one of these slight holes, the toes of the man s oust behind him occupied it. ool B ¢ Slowly and steadily we kept on our way over this dangerous fushions part of the ascent, and I daresay it was fortunate for some of us that attention was distracted from the head by the paramount reciic canght & necessity of looking after the feet; for, while on the left the 2 incline of ice was so steep that it would be impossible for any man consider i to save himself in case of a slip, unless the others could hold him up, on the right we might drop a pebble from the hand over a Jiéee 1ot d precipices of unknown extent down wupon the tremendous glacier below. Being { sy ! ¢Great caution, therefore, was absolutely necessary, and in st b this exposed situation we were attacked by all the fury of tlat grand enemy of aspirants to Monte Rosa a severe and bitterly a1t W 000, & cold wind from the north. The fine powdery snow was driven past us in clouds, penetrating the interstices of our clothes, and an in}n No the pieces of ice which flew from the blows of Peter’s axe were whisked into the air, and then dashed over the precipice. We veneer the ls had quite enough to do to prevent ourselves from being served heaver in the same ruthless fashion, and now and then, in the more violent gusts of wind, were glad to stick our alpenstocks into 3 cree the ice and hold on hard.’ over { Having surmounted this perilous steep, they sat down and afew cesslo tock a brief rest with their backs against a sheltering rock and their heels dangling over a bottomless abyss; then they climbed foll | spider to the base of another ridge, a more difficult and dangerous one still : ¢ The whole of the ridge was exceedingly narrow, and the very fall on each side desperately steep, but the ice in some of these green intervals between the masses of rock assumed the form of a ll noble mere sharp edge, almost like a knife; these places, though not more than three or four short paces in length, looked un- and a the Al commonly awkward ; but, like the sword leading true believers to the gates of Paradise, they must needs be passed before we from could attain to the summit of our ambition. These were in one study eor two places so narrow, that in stepping over them with toes But ] well turned out for greater security, one end of the foot projected to e over the awful precipice on the right, while the other was on the feel Eeginning of the icy slope on the left, which was scarcely less that t steep than the rocks. On these occasions Peter would take my me, | hand, and each of us stretching as far as we could, he was 4 degq thus enabled to get a firm footing two paces or rather more from of the { A TRAMP ABROAD. 197 s fy me, whence a spring would probably bring him to the rock on 028 g of the Ly the other side ; then, turning round, he called to me to come, and taking a couple of steps carefully, I was met at the third by Il day ey his outstretched hand ready to clasp mine, and in a moment stood by his side. The others followed in much the same S0me of fashion. Once my right foot slipped on the side towards the ¢ Pflrameuné l precipice, but I threw out my left arm in a moment so that it ) ‘!hg caught the icy edge under my armpit as I fell, and supported me I lolf fm considerably ; at the same instant I cast my eyes down the side 13 hang on which I had slipped, and contrived to plant my right foot on [/ a piece of rock as large as a cricket-ball, which chanced to i) protrude through the ice, on the very edge of the precipice. Being thus anchored fore and aft, as it were, I believe I could fur 0 easily have recovered myself, even if I had been alone, though it must be confessed the situation would have been an awful one; and by I W as it was, however, a jerk from Peter settled the matter very goon, and I was on my legs all right in an instant. The rope 1is an immense help in places of this kind.’ I'§ Now they wrrived at the base of a great knob or dome pice, | veneered with ice and powdered with snow—the utmost summit, Lol the last bit of solidity between them and the hollow vault of heaven. They set to work with their hatchets, and were soon creeping, insect-like, up its surface, with their heels projecting over the thinnest kind of nothingness, thickened up a little with td a few wandering shreds and films of cloud moving in lazy pro- cession far below. g Presently one man’s toe-hold broke and he fell ! There he dangled in mid-air at the end of the rope, like a spider, till his friends above hauled him into place again. (W) A little bit later the party stood upon the wee pedestal of the W very summit, in a driving wind, and looked out upon the vast green expanses of Italy and a shoreless ocean of billowy Alps. e o{:.l When T had read thus far, Harris burst into the room in a b noble excitement and said the ropesand the guides were secured, and asked if I was ready. I said I believed I wouldn’t ascend I ol the Altels this time. I said Alp-climbing was a diffevent thing be Ll from what I had supposed it was, and so I judged we had better yere 1 study its points a little more before we went definitely into it. Wit But I told him to retain the guides and order them to follow us to Zermatt, because I meant to use them there. Isaid I could t ]/) 1 It feel the spirit of adventure beginning to stir in me, and was sure that the fell fascination of Alp-climbing would soon be upon oty 8 me. tak ¢ If I said he could make up his mind to it that we would de a deed before we were a week older which would make the hair be 8 of the timid curl with fright. ore fom 198 A TRAMP ABROAD. ) ob]lfem This made Hairis happy, and filled him with ambitious dan ify He went at once to tell the guides to follow us 4 SPY fyts anticipations. Rig to Zermatt and bring all their paraphernalia with them., 4 168Dy el hat Joked 2 e P“ I8 CHAPTER XXXV. e — o long W Vel A crEAT and priceless thing is a new interest! How it takes have €1¢ possession of a man ! how it clings to him ! how it rides him ! the clo I strode onward from the Schwarenbach hostelry a changed man, yiall a6 I walked in a new world, I saw with We me a reorganised personality. new eyes. I had been looking aloft at the giant snow-peaks only Jiters, as things to be worshipped for their grandeur and magnitude, there ¥ and their unspeakable grace of form; I looked up at them now, mules as also things to be conquered and climbed. My sense of their coni grandeur and their noble beauty was neither lost nor impaired ; nside I had gained a new interest in the mountains without losing the (Ause old ones. I followed the steep lines up, inch by inch, with my and noted the possibility or impossibility of following them precp eye, the o with my feet. When I saw a shining helmet of ice projecting s above the clouds, I tried to imagine I saw files of black specks habit toiling up it roped together with a gossamer thread. his b We skirted the lonely little lake called the Daubensee, and Wher presently passed close by a glacier on the right—a thing like a s ol great river frozen solid in its flow and broken square off like a over wall at its mouth. I had never been so near a glacier before. heart Here we came upon a new board shanty, and found some men mule’ engaged 'in building a stone house; so the Schwarenbach was Tubb; soon to have a rival. We bought a bottle or so of beer here; at 0CCas any rate they called it beer, but I knew by the price that it was Tnye dissolved jewellery, and I perceived by the taste that dissolved I jewellery s not good stuff to drink. We stepped 10aso We were surrounded by a hideous desolation. Was ¢ forward to a sort of jumping-off place, and were confronted by a startling contrast; we seemed to look down into fairyland. Two there and g or three thousand feet below us was a bright green level, with a Tecen pretty town in its midst, and a silvery stream winding among the and g meadows; the charming spot was walled in on all sides by 1nasoy gigantic precipices clothed with pines; and over the pines, out of the softened distances, rose the snowy domes and peaks of the Violen bu Monte Rosa region. How exquisitely green and beautiful that little valley down there was ! The distance was not great enough Ulomg A TRAMP ABROAD. 199 ! i to obliterate details, it only made them little, and mellow, and Fo fOHow W dainty, like landscapes and towns seen through the wrong end of a spy-glass. Right under us a narrow ledge rose up out of the valley, with a green, slanting, bench-shaped top, and grouped about upon this green-baize bench were a lot of black and white sheep which looked merely like over-sized worms. The bench seemed lifted well up into our neighbourkood, but that was a deception—it was a long way down to it. o ity We began our descent, now, by the most remarkable road I b rides i have ever seen. It wound in corkscrew curves down the face of t]lflnged m, ly 9 the colossal precipice—a narrow way, with always the solid rock d Wil wall at one elbow, and perpendicular nothingness at the other. W IJ We met an everlasting procession of guides, porters, mules, | magniy 1 litters, and tourists climbing up this steep and muddy path, and b hem o, there was no room to spare when you had to pass a tolerably fat ensg f they mule. I always took the inside, when I heard or saw the mule 0r im coming, and flattened myself against the wall. I preferred the 1l 108Ing e I’m? : inside, of course, but I should have had to take it anyhow, be- Il ch, it cause the mule prefers the outside. A mule’s preference—on a L0 {en precipice—is a thing to be respected. Well, his choice is always the outside. His life is mostly devoted to carrying bulky pan- 14¢ niers and packages which rest against his body—therefore he is habituated to taking the outside edge of mountain paths, to keep his bundles from rubbing against rocks or banks on the other. be th When he goes into the passenger business he absurdly clings to his old habit, and keeps one leg of his passenger always dangling \re ol er before over the great deeps of the lower world, while that passenger’s d some nen heart is in the highlands, so to speak. More than once I saw a mule’s hind foot cave over the outer edge and send earth and renbach v ocr here; rubbish into the bottomless abyss; and I noticed that upon these occasions the rider, whether male or female, looked tolerably o thab 1t 8 - unwell. af disael There was one place where an 18-inch breadth of light masonry had been added to the verge of the path, and as there Te seppe e b7 < was a very sharp turn here, a panel of fencing had been set up there at some ancient time, as a protection. This panel was old Jnd, 0 and grey and feeble, and the light masonry had been loosened by recent rains. e Wit A young American girl came along on a mule, m0Dg i and in making the turn the mule’s hind foot caved all the loose 1 sies ] masonry and one of the fence posts overboard; the mule gave a ; Pmeg, af violent lurch inboard to save himself, and succeeded in the effort, ksl e but that girl turned as white as the snows of Mont Blanc for a il 889 moment, Eflt efl‘)“g i 200 A TRAMP ABROAD. fln® The path here was simply a groove cut into the face of the e on ! precipice; there was a four-foot breadth of solid rock under the el traveller, and a four-foot breadth of solid rock just above shich F bis head, like the roof of a narrow porch; he could look out from this gallery and see a sheer summitless and bottomless wall gol’gelm 5 of rock before him, across a gorge or crack a biscuit’s toss in foct 0 1 ke hu width—but he could not see the bottom of his own precipice unless he lay down and projected his nose over the edge. Idid ot b3 not do this, because I did not wish to soil my clothes. 4 st00g - —— Every few hundred yards, at’particularly bad places, one came prefi}'a L across a panel or so of plank fencing; but they were always old wag 1l ushand and weak, and they generally leaned out over the chasm and did fhe hus not make any rash promises to hold up people who might need support. There was one of these panels which had only its upper man C0 (M board left; a pedestrianising English youth came tearing down the path, was seized with an impulse to look over the precipice, fo glan staring and without an instant’s thought he threw his weight upon that downy crazy board. It bent outward a foot! I never made a gasp before that came so near suffocating me. The English youth’s 1t=50 He sank 0 face simply showed a lively surprise, but nothing more. fl went swinging along valleywards again, as if he did not know he the had just swindled a coroner by the closest kind of a shave. T g The Alpine litter is something like a cushioned box made fast between the middles of two long poles, and sometimes it is a He s chair with a back to it and a support for the feet. It is carried Al by relays of strong porters. The motion is easier than that of A any other conveyance. We met a few men and a great many ladies in litters; it seemed to me that most of the ladies looked that ff Il pale and nauseated ; their general aspect gave me the idea that may | they were patiently enduring a horrible suffering. As a rule, listeng T‘ they looked at their laps, and left the scenery to take care of itself. bap But the most frightened creature I saw was a led horse that a pan overtook us, Poor fellow! he had been born and reared in the W grassy levels of the Kandersteg valley, and had never seen any- about think like this hideous place before. Every few steps he would the L stop short, glance wildly out from the dizzy height, and then hundy spread his red nostrils wide and pant as violently as if he had slan been running a race; and all the while he quaked from head to had £, heel as with a palsy. He was a handsome fellow, and he made a there fine statuesque picture of terror, but it was pitiful to see him & Tnigf suffer so. becang This dreadful path has had its tragedy. Baedeker, with his find oy customary over-terseness, begins and ends the tale thus: ¢The ground descent on horseback should be avoided. In 1861 a Comtesse vl iy A TRAMP ABROAD., 201 ffl(}e Of the I»Under th& d’Ierlincourt fell from her saddle over the precipice and was Just flb()\'e killed on the spot.’ Il We looked over the precipice there, and saw the monument look o which commemorates the event. gy It stands in the bottom of the gorge, in a place which has been hollowed out of the rock to pro- ISty tect it from the torrent and the storms. " P Our old guide never spoke but when spoken to, and then limited himself to a syllable , Iy, Ty 3 or two; but when we asked him about this tragedy he showed %) 01¢ ¢ a strong interest in the matter. He said the Countess was very pretty, and very young—hardly out of her girihood, in fact. She g gy S0 ang g was newly married, and was on her bridal tour. The young husband was riding a little in advance; one guide was leading T the husband’s horse, another was leading the bride’s. The old 1y man continued— ¢The guide that was leading the husband’s horse happened e whf to glance back, and there was that poor young thing sitting up staring out over the precipice; and her face began to bend Ildeam 1 A 1 | downward a little, and she put up her two hands slowly and met ; ih youty it—so—and put them flat against her eyes—so—and then she more, [ 10t know by sank out of the saddle, with a sharp shriek, and one caught only the flash of a dress, and it was all over.’ have, Then after a pause— X made fif 1 ¢ Ah, yes, that guide saw these things—yes, he saw them all, imes 1 s He saw them all, just as I have told you.’ t 15 o After another pause— ¢Ah, yes, he saw them all. My God, that was me. I was that guide !’ This had been the one event of the old man’s life; so one he1 (it may be sure he had forgotten no detail connected with it. We dsa listened to all he had to say about what was done and what are (! happened and what was said after the sorrowful occurrence, and a painful story it was. b eared it When we had wound down toward the valley until we were about on the last spiral of the corkscrew, Harris’s hat blew over r seel A g he \’(Dllvi the last remaining bit of precipice—a small cliff a hundred or a al id (it} hundred and fifty feet high—and sailed down towards a steep I ;! if e had slant composed of rough chips and fragments which the weather om head 0 had flaked away from the precipices. We went leisurely down e mades there, expecting to find it without any trouble, but we had made o e b a mistake as to that. We hunted during a couple of hours—not because the old straw hat was valuable, but out of curiosity to find out how such a thing could manage to conceal itself in open { with i ground where there was nothing for it to hide behind. When us: ‘e (omtes vne is reading in bed, and lays his paper-knife down, he cannot 202 A TRAMP ABROAD. gt find it again if it is smaller than a sabre; that hat was as stub- born as any paper-knife could have been, and we finally had to oot Jut give it up; but we found a fragment that had once belonged to The el ¢ an opera-glass, and by digging around and turning over the rocks we gradually collected all the lenses and the cylinders and adorned ! the various odds and ends that go to make up a complete opera- atered glass. We afterwards had the thing reconstructed, and the piddle owner can have his adventurous long-lost property by submitting gither ~ Han proofs and paying costs of rehabilitation. We had hopes of finding the owner there, distributed ‘around amongst the rocks, ngulou for it would have made an elegant paragraph ; but we were dis- Wi Spl appointed. Still, we were far from being disheartened, for there ghoutt was a considerable area which we had not thoroughly searched ; ¢ (ham we were satisfied he was there, somewhere, so we resolved to s Jl Then we wait over a day at Leuk and come back and get him. made? sat down to polish off the perspiration and arrange about what creatl we could do with him when we got him. Harris was for con- aln’ tributing him to the British Muscum; but I was for mailing A him to his widow. That is the difference between Harris and gl‘fl\'fi me : Harris is all for display, T am all for the simple right, even almos though I lose money by it. Harris argued in favour of his pro- doing position and against mine; I argued in favour of mine and wing, against his. The discussion warmed into a dispute ; the dispute with: warmed into a quarrel. I finally said, very decidedly— P He goes to the widow.’ ¢ My mind is made up. it e Harris answered sharply— picio ¢ And my mind is made up. He goes to the Museum,’ SCio I said, calmly— asto ¢ The Museum may whistle when it gets him.’ hotl Harris retorted— Wate ¢ The widow may save herself the trouble ot whistling, for I 1nou will see that she never gets him.’ CIHpI After some angry bandying of epithets, T said— uneo ¢ It seems to me that you are taking on a good many airs el about these remains. I'don’t quite see what you've got to say about them ?’ with eft $dn? Pve got all to say about them. They’d never have been thought of if I hadn’t found their opera-glass. The corpse Arin snt] belongs to me, and I'll do as I please with him.’ as 1 I was leader of the Expedition, and all discoveries achieved by it naturally belonged to me. I was entitled to these remains, ] self and could have enforced my right; but rather than have bad blood about the matter, I said we would toss up for them. I the | Aty threw heads and won, but it was a barren victory, for although front ARG A TRAMP ABROAD. 203 18 a3 sl lly g o we spent all the next day searching, we never found a bone. I g 1, cannot imagine what could ever have become of that fellow. We 3 OV fly The town in the valley is called Leuk or Leukerbad. lflde[s an ointed our course toward it, down a verdant slope which was P}Gte Okrgs adorned with fringed gentians and other flowers, and presently b and fhy entered the narrow alleys of the oulskirts and waded toward the middle of the town through liquid ¢ferfiliser. They ouglt to ' SmeitIing U hopygf = either pave that village or organise a ferry. f the g . Harris’s body was simply a chamois-pasture ; his person was € et i populous with the little hungry pests; his skin, when he stripped, 1 o ey was splotched like a scarlet fever patient’s; so, when we were about to enter one of the Leukerbad inns, and he noticed its sign, e ¢ Chamois Hotel,” he refused to stop there. He said the chamois Te0lyed §) . Theryy was plentiful enough, without hunting up hotels where they made a specialty of it. I was indifferent, for the chamois is a about wlyt creature that will neither bite me nor abide with me: but to fas for oppe calm Harris, we went to the Hotel des Alpes. for malip At the table d'hidte we had this for an incident. A very Hais and Tight, e grave man—in fact his gravity amounted to solemnity, and almost to austerity—sat opposite us, and he was ‘tight,” but of bis o He took up a corked hottle of ming ad doing his best to appear sober. wine, tilted it over his glass a while, then set it out of the way, vthe dispe with a contented look, and went on with his dinner. : Presently he put his glass to his mouth, and of course found it empty. He looked puzzled, and glanced furtively and sus- piciously out of the corner of his eye at a benignant and uncon- o, scious old lady who sat at his right. Shook his head, as much as to say, ¢ No, she couldn’t have done it.’ He tilted the corked bottle over his glass again, meantime searching around with his watery eye to see if anybody was watching him. He ate a few g fir] mouthfuls, raised his glass to his lips, and of course it was still empty. He bent an injured and accusing side-gaze upon that unconscious old lady, which was a study to see. She went on N s eating and gave no sign. He took up his glass and his bottle, ot t0 8 to§] with a wise private nod of his head, and set them gravely on the left-hand side of his plate—poured himself another imaginary ever are drink—went to work with his knife and fork once more—pre- The et sently lifted his glass with good confidence, and found it empty, as usual. He straightened him- el This was almost & petrifying surprise. o TOALY self up in his chair and deliberately and sorrowfully inspected have the busy old ladies at his elbows, first one and then the other. theni At last he softly pushed his plate away, set his glass directly in lfhorg front of him, held on to it with his left hand, and proceeded to 204 A TRAMP ABROAD. pour with his right. o This time he observed that nothing came. fient f He turned the bottle clear upside down; still nothing issued | from it; a plaintive look came into his face, and he said, as if to 100655 s pight o himself, ¢'ic! They've got it all !’ Then he set the bottle down, The ! resignedly, and took the rest of his dinner dry. Jetrel 1t was at that table d’hdte, too, that I had under inspection the largest lady I bave ever seen in private life. She was over precipice: seven feet high, and magnificently proportioned. ‘What had first clem, o ad 11 called my attention to her was my stepping on an outlying flange of her foot, and hearing, from up toward the ceiling, a deep llfl{fi} i ¢ Pardon, m’sieu, but you encroach !’ Th piy‘tf That was when we were coming through the hall, and the of s gt hun place was dim, and I could see her only vaguely. The thing which called my attention to her the second time was, that at a comices and star table beyond ours were two very pretty girls, and this great lady came in and sat down between them and me and blotted out the fhis view. She had a handsome face, and she was very finely formed weary —perfectly formed, I should say. But she made everybody in pl\fi around her look trivial and commonplace. Ladies near her clouds tions— looked like children, and the men about her looked mean. They looked like failures; and they looked as if they felt so, too. storm-S She sat with her back to us. I never saw such a back in my \'flpUUT life. I would have so liked to see the moon rise over it. The there whole congregation waited, under one pretext or another, till she would would finished her dinner and went out; they wanted to see her at her full altitude, and they found it worth tarrying for. She filled s He co 0 one’s idea of what an empress ought to be, when she rose up in her unapproachable grandeur and moved superbly out of that 8 gls place. 0nee | We were not at Leuk in time to see her at her heaviest town weight. She had suffered from corpulence, and had come there We st to getrid of her extra flesh in the baths. Five weeks of soaking— the fa five uninterrupted hours of it every day—had accomplished her perper purpose and reduced her to the right proportions. Thep Those baths remove fat, and also skin-diseases. The patients with | remain in the great tanks hours at a time. A dozen gentlemen aseent and ladies occupy a tank together, and amuse themselves with he gog rompings and various games. They have floating desks and three tables, and they read or lunch or play chess in water that is thiflk ( breast-deep. The tourist can step in and view this novel spec- ang tacle if he chooses. There’s a poor-box, and he will have to ‘; 8ivan contribute. There are several of these big bathing-houses, and you can always tell when you are near one of them by the dlizzyin‘ glven y romping noises and shouts of laughter that proceed from its yield U A TRAMP ABROAD. 20 hing . 0 g, )\ 1 g N The water is running water, and changes all the time, else a ) patient with a ringworm might take the bath with only a partial Nitly dow success, since while he was ridding himself of his ringworm he might catch the itch. F ng chtion The next morning we wandered back up the green valley, VS oy leisurely, with the curving walls of those bare and stupendous b gt precipices rising into the clouds before us. I had never seen a clean, bare precipice stretching up 5,000 feet above me before, (g and I never shall expect to see another one. They exist, per- haps, but not in places where one can easily get close to them. This pile of stone is peculiar. From its base to the soaring tops il ang gy 'l"ly;e tlzin; of its mighty towers, all its lines and all its details vaguely sug- gest human architecture. There are rudimentary bow windows, ) One could sit Lol cornices, chimneys, demarcations of stories, &e. and stare up there and study the features and exquisite graces of this grand structure, bit by bit, and day after day, and never weary his interest. The termination, toward the town, observed in profile, is the perfection of shape. It comes down out of the | clouds in a succession of rounded, colossal, terrace-like projec- el tions—a stairway for the gods; at its head spring several lofty storm-scarred towers, one above another, with faint films of vapour curling always about them like spectral banners. If there were a king whose realms included the whole world, here would be the palace meet and proper for such a monarch. He would only need to hollow it out and put in the electric light. He could give audience to a nation at a time under its roof. Our search for those remains having failed, we inspected with out a glass the dim and distant track of an old-time avalanche that once swept down from some pine-grown summits behind the hear town and swept away the houses and buried the people ; then 1— we struck down the road that leads toward the Rhone, to see the famous Ladders. These perilous things are built against the perpendicular face of a cliff two or three hundred feet high. The peasants, of both sexes, were climbing up and down them, pafints with heavy loads on their backs. I ordered Harris to make the 7 I = ascent, so I could put the thrill and horror of it in my book, and - he accomplished the feat successfully, through a sub-agent, for three francs, which I paid. It makes me shudder yet when T think of what I felt when I was clinging there between heaven el spet and hearth in the person of that proxy. At times the world swam around me, and I could hardly keep from letting go, so | Jare 0 sty dizzying was the appalling danger. Many a person would have given up and descended, but I stuck to my task, and would not ) by fhe yield until I had accomplished it. I felt a just pride in my 4 TRAMP ABROAD. 206 exploit, but I would not have repeated it for the wealth of the sl world. I shall break my neck yet with some such foolhardy J qur 810 w0l foun performance, for warnings never seem to have any lasting effect upon me. When the people of the hotel found that I had been bl © climbing those crazy Ladders, it made me an object of consider- g roLe: able distinction. behind 0 Next morning, early, we drove to the Rhone valley and took TWhe the train for Visp. There we shouldered our knapsacks and gome plfl things, and set out on foot, in a tremendous rain, up the winding and il gorge, towards Zermatt. Hour after hour we slopped along, by yere 10 heir 0F the roaring torrent, and under noble Lesser Alps which were clothed in rich velvety green all the way up, and had little he s’ atomy Swiss homes perched upon grassy benches along their ghirts 0 mist-dimmed heights. e, | The rain continued to pour and the torrent to boom, and we to bed continued to enjoy both. At the one spot where this torrent yyere 0 tossed its white mane highest, and thundered loudest, and lashed Th the big boulders fiercest, the canten had done itself the honour fhe fal to build the flimsiest wooden bridge that exists in the world. withot While we were walking over it, along with a party of horsemen, than o I noticed that even the larger rain-drops made it shake. I called witho It seemed to me Harris’s attention to it, and he noticed it too. that if I owned an elephant that was a keepsake, and I thought a ood deal of him, I would think twice before I would ride him over that bridge. We climbed up to the village of St. Nicholas, about half-past four in the afternoon, waded ankle-deep through the fertiliser- We juice, and stopped at a new and nice hotel close by the little to 1in church. We_stripped and went to bed, and sent our clothes down to be baked. All the horde of soaked tourists did the conti while same, That chaos of clothing got mixed in the kitchen, and in th there were consequences. I did not get back the same drawers I Soun sent down, when our things came up at 6.15; I got a pair on a SEN new plan. They were merely a pair of white rufile-cuffed absurdities, hitched together at the top with a narrow band, and trive 1t mg they did not come quite down to my knees. They were pretty enough, but they made me feel like two people, and disconnected i po at that. The man must have been an idiot that got himself up there there like that, to rough it in the Swiss mountains. The shirt they brought me was shorter than the drawers, and hadn’t any sleeves there 8oung to it—at least it hadn’t anything more than what Mr. Darwin would call ¢rudimentary’ sleeves; these had ‘edging’ around ity them, but the bosom was ridiculously plain. The knit silk the e hargg under-shirt they brought me was on a new plan, and was really | £ Crg A TRAMP ABROAD. 207 Wealty o ; Ith fofllhard st a sensible thing; it opened behind, and had pockets in it to put erct your shoulder-blades in; but they did not seem to fit mine, and it | h{d ey so I found it a sort of uncomfortable garment. They gave my 40l g, bobtail coat to somebody else, and sent me an ulster suitable for a giraffe. T had to tie my collar on, because there was no button ey i LS behind on that foolish little shirt which I described a while ago. KAy 1l When I was dressed for dinner at 6.30, I was too loose in 1D they some places and too tight in others, and altogether I felt slovenly {lptd al and ill-conditioned. However, the people at the table d’héte 8 Which \\';:{5 were no better off than I was; they had everybody’s clothes but and hag Jjg, their own on. A long stranger recognised his ulster as soon as &) along (e he saw the tail of it following me in, but nobody claimed my shirts or my drawers, though I described them as well as I was ‘b%mfan ( L 1rg Iy able. I gave them to the chambermaid that night when I went 16 thig to bed, and she probably found the owner, for my own things esty an i were on a chair outside my door in the morning. ll There was a loveable English clergyman who did not get to the table d’héte at all. in the \';@:f}.‘ His breeches had turned up missing, and 7 of horsemg, without any equivalent. He said he was not more particular than other people, but he had noticed that a clergyman at dinner 3 ke AU seemed fo without any breeches was almost sure to excite remark. d1th ould ride b \ CHAPTER XXXVL it b i We did not oversleep at St. Nicholas. The church-bell began to ring at 4.30 in the morning, and from the length of time it 1 éur | continued to ring I judged that it takes the Swiss sinner a good while to get the invilation through his head. Most church-bells Litchen, ad e droves ] in the world are of poor quality, and have a harsh and rasping sound which upsets the temper and produces much sin, but the t 8 pairond ufle (i o fid St. Nicholas bell is a good deal the worst one that has been con- trived yet, and is peculiarly maddening in its operation. Still, o band, ad it may have its right and its excuse to exist, for the community 7 ere ey disconnect is poor and not every citizen can afford a clock, perhaps; but there cannot be any excuse for our church-bells at home, for f bimsel there is no family in America without a clock, and consequentl o it e there is no fair pretext for the usual Sunday medley of dreadful tany ST sounds that issues from our steeples. There is much more pro- M. Darvid fanity in America on Sunday than in all the other six days of g ! ¢ the week put together, and it is of a more bitter and malignant o kit il character than the week-day profanity, too. It is produced by s 1 the cracked-pot clangour of the cheap church-bells. 208 A TRAMP ABROAD to"e pacte We build our churches almost without regard to cost; we fhat 6 \\aS ! rear an edifice which is an adornment to the town, and we gild fhe W ll 0 it, and fresco it, and mortgage it, and do everything we can u) mme think of to perfect it, and then spoil it all by putting a bell on Great E it which afflicts everybody who hears it, giving some the head- “ a\h nfl[{‘fl ache, others St. Vitus’s dance, and the rest the blind-staggers. sl T pper € An American village at ten o’clock on a summer Sunaay is them ¥ the quietest and peacefullth and holiest thing in nature; but it fhing W is a pretty different thing half an hour ]auer Mzr. Poe’s poem To me of the ¢ Bells stands incomplete to this day; but it is well imagize enough that it is so, for the public reciter or ¢ reader’ who goes taken 4 around trying to imitate the sounds of the various sorts of bel rabid Pro with his voice would find himself ‘up a stump’ when he got to In th the church-bell—as Joseph Addison would say. The church is it and always trying to get other people to reform ; it might not be a the lanes bad 1dea to reform itself a little, by way of example It is still wretched clinging to one or two things which were useful once, but which turnip o1 are not useful now, neither are they ornamental One is the why, you bell-ringing to remind a clock aked town that it is church- Al time, and another is the reading from the pulpit of a tedious First it list of ¢notices’ which everybody who is interested has already Protes stall read in the newspaper The clergyman even reads the hymn ‘They do through—a relic of an ancient time when hymn-books were Then 1t scarce and costly ; but everybody has a hymn-book now, and so make th the public reading is no longer necessary It is not merely unuecessary, it is generally painful for the average clergyman and they goats: ¢ could not fire into his congregation with a shot-gun and hit a worse reader than himself, unless the weapon scattered shame- canton— fully nature, I am not meaning to be flippant and irreverent, I am chamol only meaning to be truthful The average clergyman, in all countries and of all denominations, is a very bad reader. One bu thes would think he would at least lc‘un how to read the Lord’ guide-b Prayer, by-and-by, but it is not so He races through it as if you wan canton he thought the quicker he got it in the sooner it would be answered. A person who does not appreciate the exceeding dow, e ones by value of pauses, and does not know how to measure their duration judiciously, cannot render the grand simplicity and lovely 'y dignity of a composition like that effectively. Thegs £ We took a tolerably early breakfast, and tramped off toward hle\h Zermatt through the reeking lanes of the village, glad to get trot grg away from that bell By-and-by we had a fine spectacle on our ey ) right. It was the warlike butt-end of a huge glacier, which Canton th, looked down on us from an Alpine height which was well up in He by the blue sky, It was an astonishing amount of ice to be com- i o fy A TRAMP ABROAD. 209 Ly e pacted together in one mass. We ciphered upon it and decided . :\'r}nd \ve’gfld ) that it was not less than several hundred feet from the base of Yiiy g We ¢ the wall of solid ice to the top of it—Harris believed it was T O th . really twice that. We judged that if St. Paul’s, St. Peter’s, the Great Pyramid, the Strasburg Cathedral, and the Capitol at T € )y day 4 Washington were clustered against that wall, a man sitting on 14| its upper edge could not hang his hat on the top of any one of We; g them without reaching down three or four hundred feet—a [r Po b thing which, of course, no man could do. Vel To me, that mighty glacier was very beautiful. I did not € imagine that anybody could find fault with it; but I was mic- taken. Harris had been snarling for several days. He was a rabid Protestant, and he was always saying— hurh ‘In the Protestant cantons you never see such peverty and Hl;r: g0t no | I | dirt and squalor as you do in this Catholic one; you never sece 1886l the lanes and alleys flowing with foulness; you never see such wretched little sties of houses; you never see an inverted tin turnip on top of a church for a dome; and as for a church-bell, 161 why, you never hear a church-bell at all’ of a el All this morning he had been finding fault, straight along. S ! First it was with the mud. He said, ‘It ain’t muddy in a €40 l 6 . Protestant canton when it rains.’ Then it was with the dog: it b0 ¢ They don’t have those lop-eared dogs in a Protestant canton.’ 0. W, andy Then it was with the roads: ¢ They don’t leave the roads to net 101 I make themselves in a Protestant canton, the people make them— & 76 CIEL! and they make a road that is a road, too.’ Next it_was_the 1l goats: ‘ You never see a goat shedding tears in a Protestant tar Wl canton—a goat, there, is one of the cheerfullest objects in i nature.’ Next it was the chamois: ¢ You never see a Protestant ndl chamois act like one of these—they take a bite or two and go; One but these fellows camp with you and stay.’ Then it was the i the Lo )} guide-beards: ¢ In a Protestant canton you couldn’t get lost if you wanted to, but you never see a guide-board in a Catholic 01 ;l canton.’ R ol Next, ¢ You never see any flower-boxes in the win- dows, here—never anything but now and then a cat—a torpid the € measure it one; but you take a Protestant canton: windows “perfectly lovely with flowers and as for cats, there’s just acresof them. glmphu[)" i These folks in this canton leave a road to make itself, and then fine you three franes if you “trot” over it—as if a horse could \ Ed Ofi m“‘flrd trot over such a sarcasm of a road.’ Next about the goitre : ? l.’ld fo gEC ¢ They talk about goitre !—I haven’t seen a goitre in this whole tacle 000 canton that I couldn’t put in a hat.’ gl Jaciery W H(? He had growled at everything, but I judged it would puzzle syl him to find anything the matter with this majestic glacier.® I P ice fo be (ome 210 A TRAMP ABROAD. h o 1l intimated as much; but he was ready, and said with surly oh 4 S ¢ discontent— Ih ¢ You ought to see them in the Protestant cantons.’ e This irritated me. Off a0, of €0 But I concealed the feeling, and asked— o Ly Dot ¢ What is the matter with this one ?’ ¢ Matter? Why, it ain’t in any kind of condition. They gD e, bt The moraine has been _god At never take any care of a glacier here. here 38 spilling gravel around it, and got it all dirty.’ ¢ Why, man, they can’t help that.’ couside{‘fltifll oy WAl ¢ They? You’re right. That is, they won't. They could if they wanted to. You never see a speck of dirt on a Protestant he Was & d foelings & glacier. Look at the Rhone glacier. It is fifteen miles long, yery mout and seven hundred feet thick. If this was a Protestant glacier you wouldn’t see it looking like this, I can tell you.’ lfishness ) ¢ That is nonsense. ared. 81l What would they do with it ?’ ¢ They would whitewash it. They always do.’ A parem \ I did not believe a word of this, but rather than have which WOl ot trouble I let it go; for it is a waste of breath to argue with a bigot. I even doubted if the Rhone glacier was in a Protestant would ba then the 1 canton; but I did not know, so I could not make anything by QU DAL contradicting a man who would probably put me down at once with manufactured evidence. Baedeker hurt to col About nine miles from St. Nicholas we crossed a bridge over the raging torrent of the Visp, and came to a long strip of frivolous: flimsy fencing which was pretending to secure people from all Thad ¢ would et tumbling over a perpendicular wall forty feet high and into the river. Three children were approaching ; one of them, a little Wey girl about eight years old, was running; when pretty close to us proaching she stumbled and fell, and her feet shot under the rail of the mountain fence and for a moment projected over the stream. It gave us a moving { sharp shock, for we thought she was gone, sure, for the ground it, dong slanted steeply, and to save herself seemed a sheer impossibility ; Thotoga but she managed to scramble up, and ran by us laughing. avry d We went forward and examined the place and saw the long ing {o e tracks which her feet had made in the dirt when they darted Tun acro; over the verge. If she had finished her trip she would have aliay vy struck some big rocks in the edge of the water, and then the mistking torrent would have snatched her down-stream among the half- st He covered boulders and she would have been pounded to pulp in He toye two minutes. We had come exceedingly near witnessing her third of death. mongte y And now Harris’s contrary nature and inborn selfishness Platforn were strikingly manifested. He has no spirit of self-denial. 4 the g He began straight off, and continued for an hour, to express s apey hig gratitude that the child was not destroved. I never saw A TRAMP ABROAD. 211 il yip nly such a man, That was the kind of person he was; just togg! so he was gratified, he never cared anything about anybody else. I had noticed that trait in him, over and over again. 1 ang hefe Often, of course, it was mere heedlessness, mere want of reflec- tion. Doubtless this may have been the case in most in- Onditi, N stances, but it was not the less hard to bear on that account Oraing g i —and after all, its bottom, its groundwork, was selfishness. There is no avoiding that conclusion. In the instance under consideration, I did think the indecency of running on in that + Ty gy wa might occur to him; but no, the child was saved and 00 8 Profgy he was glad, that was sufficient—he cared not a straw for my i I%E | ey b feelings, or my loss of such a literary plum, snatched from my ALt plgiy very mouth at the instant it was ready to drop into it. His selfishness was sufficient to place his own gratification in being i it spared suffering clear before all concern for me, his friend. 0 Apparently he did not once reflect upon the valuable details ;i[lllEI than s which would have fallen like a windfall to me: fishing the child 10 argue wil out—witnessing the surprise of the family and the stir the thing 510 Profesyy would have made among the peasants—then a Swiss funeral— ke anythig by then the roadside monument, to be paid for by us and have ¢ down 4t o our names mentioned in it. And we should have gone into Baedeker and been immortal. I was silent. I was too much If he could act so, and be so heedless and so ed a biidge ore hurt to complain. a long s frivolous at such a time, and actually seem to glory in it, after all I had done for him, I would have cut my hand off before I e people fix oh and in would let him see that I was wounded. We were approaching Zermatt, consequently we were ap- of I‘lvlem,a A month before this rett J ¢ fou proaching the remowned Matterhorn. the rfiifof i mountain had been only a name to us, but latterly we had been m, Tigewt moving through a steadily thickening double row of pictures of » for it, done in oil, water, chromo, wood, steel, copper, crayon, and photography, and so it had at length become a shape to us—and er ImpossOl Jaughing: a very distinct, decided, and familiar one, too. We were expect- ing to recognise that mountain whenever or wherever we should nd s thelg run across it. We were not deceived. The monarch was far hen they dare away when we first saw him, but there was no such thing as she would B mistaking him. He has the rare peculiarity of standing by him- r and fhe self. He is peculiarly steep, too, and is also most oddly shaped. mong the Jult He towers into the sky like a colossal wedge, with the upper ided 'P”lp h third of its blade bent a little to the left. The broad base of this itnessng ¥ monster wedge is planted upon a grand glacier-paved Alpine o st - platform whose elevation is ten thousand feet above sea level; as the wedge itself is some five thousand feet high, it follows that of st its apex is about fifteen thousand feet above sea level. So the P 2 u, 0 & Torr & 212 A TRAMP ABROAD. il ghout i whole bulk of this stately piece of rock, this sky-cleaving mono- iith, is above the line of eternal snow. Yet while all its giant | 'lfl in front € imbers neighbours have the look of being built of solid snow, from their ides 4 waists up, the Matterhorn stands black and naked and for- axpl jtions & bidding the year round, or merely powdered or streaked with jale a0 fo white in places, for its sides are so steep that the snow cannot 0L stay there. Its strange form, its august isolation, and its majestic 0essiony ' roW 10 0 fyell unkinship with its own kind, make it, so to speak, the Napoleon of the mountain world. ‘Grand, gloomy, and peculiar,’ is a phrase o Americil Ve wer which fits as aptly as it fitted the great captain. Think of a monument a mile high, standing on a pedestal of the UP' two miles high ! This is what the Matterhorn is—a monument. for here WA Its office henceforth, for all time, will be to keep watch and ward yiho bunts over the secret resting-place of the young Lord Douglas, who out & gUide: gll L conld in 1865 was precipitated from the summit over a precipice 4,000 feet high, and never seen again. No man ever had such a monu- ot short Tar ment as this before. The most imposing of the world’s other Jeny than f monuments are but atoms compared to it; and they will perish, the peaks and their places will pass from memory, but this will remain.! 110 pleasur A walk from St. Nicholas to Zermatt is a wonderful ex- but it 58 perience. Nature is built on a stupendous plan in that region. find pleas One marches continually between walls that are piled into the have trar skies, with their upper heights broken into a confusion of ‘sub- thought lime shapes that gleam white and cold against the background of climber's blue; and here and there one sees a big glacier displaying its upon him grandeurs on the top of a precipice, or a graceful cascade leap- may have There is nothing ing and flashing down the green declivities. Girdlesto tame, or cheap, or trivial—it is all magnificent. That short had spen valley is a picture gallery of a notable kind, for it contains no break his mediocrities; from end to end the Creator has hung it with His for Bngla masterpieces. to clmb: We made Zermatt at three in the afternoon, nine hours out new andy from St. Nicholas. Distance, by guide-book, twelve miles; by ab onee, pedometer, seventy-two. We were in the heart and home of the axes, ool mountain-climbers now, as all visible things testified. The snow- peaks did not hold themselves aloof, in aristocratic reserve; they They o Whete g nestled close around, in a friendly sociable way; guides, with prise, | the ropes and axes, and other implements of their fearful calling dOWn—a 1ot do, 1 The accident which cost Lord Douglas his life (see Chapter XLI.) also cost the lives of three other men. These threo—fell four-fifths of a Bren mile, and their bodies were afterwards found lying side by side upon a glacier, thro it whence they were borne to Zermatt and buried in the churchyard. The remains of Lord Douglas have mnever been found. The secret of his elsshoy ad ogt sepulchre, like that of Meses, must remain a mystery always. 8 d CjEI‘s’ ol d vy A TRAMP ABROAD. 213 ) Tong, a“ g flang glung about their persons, roosted in a long line upon a stone Moy, 10 thej wall in front of the hotel, and waited for customers; sun-burned e gy climbers in mountaineering costume, and followed by their ! S guides and porters, arrived from time to time, from break-neck © S0y gy expeditions among the peaks and glaciers of the High Alps; A0 flo male and female tourists, on mules, filed by in a continuous pro- ) L cession, hotelward-bound from wild adventures which would E Napolegy lar 153 52 Py grow in grandeur every time they were described at the English or American fireside, and at last outgrow the possible itself. 3 008 ey We were not dreaming; this was not a make-believe home ~3 0Ny, of the Alp-climber, created by our heated imaginations; no, for here was Mr. Girdlestone himself, the famous Englishman \ja?c31 and Tarl W h 0 who hunts his way to the most formidable Alpine summits withs pecipeg 4.\2)«]'\) out a guide. I was not equal to imagining a Girdlestone; it was all I could do to even realise him, while looking straight at him u such g 16 World's at short range. I would rather face whole Hyde Parks of artil- lery than the ghastly forms of death which he has faced among bey will will remain, the peaks and precipices of the mountains. There is probably wonderfil ex. no pleasure equal to the pleasure of climbing a dangerous Alp ; but it is a pleasure which is confined strictly to people who can i that reg piled into find pleasure in it. I have not jumped to this conclusion; I niusion of ab ! have travelled to it per gravel train, so to speak. I have thought the thing all out, and am quite sure I am right. A born backgroud o climber’s appetite for climbing is hard to satisfy ; when it comes r displayig i upon him he is like a starving man with a feast before him; he | cas;ade l Mr. nere may have other business on hand, but it must wait. Girdlestone had had his usual summer holiday in the Alps, and it Th had spent it in his usual way, hunting for unique chances to 1 1t con Hl I break his neck; his vacation was over, and his luggage packed g i yith s for England, but all of a sudden a hunger had come upon him to climb the tremendous Weisshorn once more, for he heard of a nine hours ot new and utterly impossible route up it. His baggage was unpacked Jve 1 at once, and now he and a friend, laden with knapsacks, ice- 1d bome of f axes, coils of rope, and canteens of milk, were just setting out. o, Thesur They would spend the night high up among the snows, some- where, and get up at two in the morning and finish the enter- se;"e l prise. I had a strong desire to go with them, but forced it fearfl down—a feat which Mr. Girdlestone, with all his fortitude, could not do. 1) o Even ladies catch the climbing mania, and are unable to throw it off. A famous climber of that sex had attempted the T Weisshorn a few days before our arrival, and she and her guides , secreh i il had lost their way in a snowstorm high up among the peaks and glaciers, and been forced to wander around a good while before )'5. 214 A TRAMP ABROAD. s g they could find a way down. When this lady reached the bottom iR she had been on her feet twenty-three hours ! Our guides, hired on the Gemmi, were already at Zermatt LMS knd when we reached there. So there was nothing to interfere with i o S0 b our getting up an adventure whenever we should choose the time hing; wd and the object. I resolved to devote my first evening in Zermatt Jly; the ! to studying up the subject of Alpine climbing, by way of pre- s paration. et {62 I read several books, and here are some of the things I found cqch fime out. One’s shoes must be strong and heavy and have pointed forough 8 hobnails in them. The alpenstock must be of the best wood, theguly © for if it should break loss of life might be the result. One whole of my should carry an axe to cut steps in the ice with, on the great and 1 tefl bfl heights. There must be a ladder, for there are steep bits of rock fortunately which can be surmounted with this instrument—or this utensil— but could not be surmounted without it; such an obstruction brought me of the pret has compelled the tourist to waste hours hunting another route, appeared, : when a ladder would have saved him all trouble. One must fhey fell o have from 150 to 500 feet of strong rope, to be used in lowering from utter the party down steep declivities, which are too steep and smooth or eight b to be traversed in any other way. One must have a steel hook on another rope—a very useful thing; for when one is ascend- gigantc Je Mhes ing, and comes to a low bluff which is yet too high for the ladder, he swings this rope aloft like a lasso, the hook catches at e let gof than twen the top of the bluff, and then the tourist climbs the rope hand Tvainly over hand—being always particular to try and forget that if the with the hook gives way he will never stop falling till he arrives in ing etsa some part of Switzerland where they are not expecting kim. kicked ou Another important thing—there must be a rope to tie the whole head, T party together with, so that if one falls from a mountain or ished, T down a bottomless chasm in a glacier, the others may brace back place of on the rope and save him. One must have a silk veil, to pro- CONSCIOuS tect his face from snow, sleet, hail, and gale, and coloured goggles Stairesse to protect his eyes from that dangerous enemy, snow-blindness. the whol Finally, there must be some porters, to carry provisions, wine, and scientific instruments, and also blanket bags for the party atagp to sleep in. Hisy climbeq § I closed my readings with a fearful adventure which Mr. Whymper once had on the Matterhorn when he was prowling dlnber around alone, 5,000 feet above the town o f Briel. He was edging his way gingerly around the corner of a precipice where the upper edge of a sharp declivity of ice- glazed snow joined it. This declivity swept down a couple of hu which curved around and ended at a ndred feet, into a gull precipice 800 ‘feet high, A TRAMP ABROAD. 215 thed boty overlooking a glacier. His foot slipped, and he fell. He 8ay8i— Qay H ¢ @ Zermat f i 0 ey th ‘My knapsack brought my head down first, and I pitched E100% th into some rocks about a dozen feet below ; they caught some- Eing Loy thing, and tumbled me off the edge, head over heels, into the ) y\\‘ay of . gully ; the baton was dashed from my hands, and I whirled downwards in a series of bounds, each longer than the last; now ‘16 tl!ingg 1 fy i over ice, now into rocks, striking my head four or five times, 178 Y each time with increased force. The last bound sent me spinning 1108 ety through the air in a leap of fifty or sixty feet, from one side of 8 el the gully to the other, and I struck the rocks, luckily, with the whole of my left side. “:hr 0n the et They caught my clothes for a moment, Xt bt o and I fell back on to the snow with motion arrested. My head i thisufyg) fortunately came the right side up, and a few frantic catches 020 gbsygyy brought me to a halt in the neck of the gully and on the verge g anofher ry G, of the precipice. Baton, hat, and veil skimmed by and dis- ) 6 mug appeared, and the crash of the rocks—which I had started—as sed 1 oy they fell on to the glacier, told how narrow had been the escape eep and smog from utter destruction. As it was, I fell nearly 200 feet in seven or eight bounds. Ten feet more would have taken me in one 7e 4 stee] bk one 13 ascend- =2 gigantic leap of 800 feet on to the glacier below. ¢ The situation was sufficiently serious. The rocks could not 0 high for i hook catehesa be let go for a moment, and the blood was spirting out of more han dtil 1 than twenty cuts. The most serious ones were in the head, and the rope b I vainly tried to close them with one hand, whilst holding on rgehthat 1t with the other. | bg amivs It was useless; the blood gushed out in blind- ing jets at each pulsation. At last, in a moment of inspiration, T expecting hin 0 ti the wlol kicked out a big lump of snow and stuck it as plaister on my y mountai ¢t head. The idea was a happy one, and the flow of blood dimin- ished. Then, scrambling up, I got, not a moment too soon, to a 1 brae otk k vl fo prr place of safety, and fainted away. The sun was setting when consciousness returned, and it was pitch-dark before the Great Joured grggs Staircase was descended ; but by a combination of luck and care, ow-blindues the whole 4,700 feet of descent to Breil was accomplished with- yigons, Wit out a slip, or once missing the way.’ for the pary His wounds kept him a-bed some days. Then he got up and climbed that mountain again. "That is the way with a true Alp- e which Mf' climber ; the more fun he has, the more he wants. yas vy o 78 0905 g There (2 ' oied b ‘WJ nfo 8§ W ligh 216 A TRAMP ABROAD, o d shere I al ens Was gred Jion, DU K CHAPTER XXXVIL As ustd under@gl. ¢ Ar1ER I had finished my readings I was no longer myself; I ~ojects an 3 was tranced, uplifted, intoxicated, by the almost incredible perils xpedition &7 and adventures I had been following my authors through, and ncludin 0 o [}9‘ the triumphs I had been sharing with them. I sat silent some Thwastu time, then turned to Harris, and said— s el ¢ My mind is made up.’ pumbers a0 Something in my tone struck him; and when he glanced at tion that had my eye and read what was written there, his face paled percep- commad tibly. He hesitated a moment, then said— n s'mgle fi'e: ¢ Speak.’ sfrong TOPE: I answered with perfect calmness— Jevel, ith 7 ¢T WILL ASCEND THE RIFFELBERG.’ exceptin ¥€ If T had shot my poor friend he could not have fallen from My reaing his chair more suddenly. If I had been his father he could not péned in the have pleaded harder to get me to give up my purpose. But I enough; [ turned a deaf ear to all he said. When he perceived at last that nothing could alter my determination he ceased to urge, and for obeyed my When a while the deep silence was broken only by his sobs. I sat in to move, | marble resolution, with my eyes fixed upon vacancy, for in spirit over halfa; I was already wrestling with the perils of the mountains, and my “@ had on s friend sat gazing at me in adoring admiration through his tears. ‘around 1 At last he threw himself upon me in a loving embrace, and ex- claimed in broken tones— the other, in his lef ¢ Your Harris will never desert you. We will die together !’ orutehes s I cheered the mnoble fellow with praises, and soon his fears . the homs ¢ were forgotten, and he was eager for the adventure. He wanted to summon the guides at once and leave at two in the morning, Alpine ro as he supposed the custom was; but I explained that nobody [mdp in the poy was looking at that hour, and that the start in the dark was not usually made from the village, but from the first night’s resting- five uides place on the mountain side. alpenstock I said we would leave the village at three or four p.x. on the morrow; meantime he could notify Uon vy the guides, and also let the public know of the attempt which we et we ¢ proposed to make. onkey I went to bed, but not to sleep. No man can sleep when he Alig|—g is about to undertake one of these Alpine exploits. I tossed a3 infeyy feverishly all night long, and was glad enough when I heard the tion oy clock strike half-past eleven, and knew it was time to get up for ehind, ( BEXeS )y dinner. I rose jaded and rusty, and went to the noon meal, 1A ang g A TRAMP ABROAD., 217 where I found myself the centre of interest and curiosity, for the news was already abroad. It is not easy to eat calmly when you are a lion, but it is very pleasant, nevertheless. As usual, at Zermatt, when a great ascent is about to be MR undertaken, everybody, native and foreign, laid aside his own 'A'W::dib‘!e [/c;il § projects and took up a good position to observe the start. The Thl‘lhu;"“‘ l‘Ld £ expedition consisted of 198 persons, including the mules, or 203, Slent including the cows. As follows: It was full four o’clock in the afternoon before my cavalcade was entirely ready. At that hour it began to move. In point of o0 he glflfl(‘éd 4 numbers and spectacular effect it was the most imposing expedi- € Jled Pirey tion that had ever marched from Zermatt. I commanded the chief guide to arrange the men and animals in single file, twelve feet apart, and lash them all together on a strong rope. He objected that the first two miles was a dead level, with plenty of room, and that the rope was never used ave flln g except in very dangerous places. But I would not listen to that. er b could My reading had taught me that many serious accidents had hap- 0%, Bt [ pened in the Alps simply from not having the people tied up soon ved 4 enough ; I was not going to add one to the list. The guide then 0 lrge, obeyed my order. S0D8, Is When the procession stood at ease, roped together, and ready tor to move, I never saw a finer sight. It was 3,122 feet long— al | over half a mile; every man but Harris and me was on foot, and oh | had on his green veil and his blue goggles, and his white rag ccoseem, brce, i around his hat, and his coil of rope over one shoulder and under the other, and his ice-axe in his belt, and carried his alpenstock (e to in his left hand, his umbrella (closed) in his right, and his | o | crutches slung at his back. The burdens of the pack mules and the horns of the cows were decked with the Edelweiss and the o, Hewa Alpine rose. ) the I and my agent were the only persons mounted. We were ] that nobod] in the post of danger in the extreme rear, and tied securely to dark was o five guides apiece. Our armour-bearers carried our ice-axes, irhtsn e alpenstocks, and other implements for us. We were mounted ro the il upon very small donkeys, as a measure of safety; in time of , could o - peril we could straighten our legs and stand up, and let the npé yihich ¢ donkey walk from under. Still, I cannot recommend this sort of animal—at least for excursions of mere pleasure—because his hgp wihen e ears interrupt the view. I and my agent possessed the regula- (3, [ foss tion mountaineering costumes, but concluded to leave them [ hear 82 behind. Out of respect for the great numbers of tourists of both sexes who would be assembled in front of the hotels to see us 0 gth U for 00D Téd) pass, and also out of respect for the many tourists whom we exe 218 A TRAMP ADROAD, foen 00 festied hox' pected to encounter on our_ expedition, we decided to make the i e ascent in evening dress. consuhl isfo &) At fifteen minutes past four I gave the command to move, b g oo’ and my subordinates passed it along the line. The great crowd hey W in front of the Monte Rosa hotel parted in twain, with a cheer, Whethei el fhat o as the procession approached, and as the head of it was filing by stinctfl’ af ey I gave the order, ¢ Unlimber—make ready—moist!’ and with one impulse up went my half mile of umbrellas. It was a beau- ey 00 20647 Nothing like o ome 0% tiful sight, and a total surprise td*the spectators. Plaifll)' e that had ever been seen in the Alps before. The applause it brought forth was deeply gratifying to me, and I rode by with amiling 8 all went 128 qmy plug hat in my hand to testify my appreciation of it. It 7 was the only testimony I could offer, for I was too full.to speak. cautiousy, We watered the caravan at the cold stream which rushes the mountail down a trough near the end of the village, and soon afterward il Towa left the haunts of civilisation behind wus. About half-past five e 1p O o’clock we arrived at a bridge which spans the Visp, and after ol the remalr throwing over a detachment to see if it was safe, the caravan ol enST crossed without accident. The way now led, by a gentle ascent, pever see fne carpeted with fresh green grass, to the church of Winkelmatten. bezan t0Tp Without stopping to examine this edifice, I executed a flank dition, - om movement to the right and crossed the bridge over the Findel- Clealy enbach, after first testing its strength. Here I deployed to the speech in l right again, and presently entered an inviting stretch of meadow perilousap land which was unoccupied save by a couple of deserted huts Tad escaped toward its furthest extremity. These meadows offered an excel- cue them, lent camping-place. We pitched our tents, supped, established malntain U would alloy a proper guard, recorded the events of the day, and then went to bed. appear durt We rose at two in the morning and dressed by candle-light. and make It was a dismal and chilly business. A few stars were shining, expeditions but the general heavens were overcast, and the great shaft of the This Matterhorn was draped in a sable pall of clouds. The chief E— With some guide advised a delay ; he said he feared it was going to rain. cover when We waited until nine o’clock, and then got away in tolerably clear weather. 1y yislor any book o Our course led up some terrific steeps, densely wooded with But for thy larches and cedars, and traversed by paths which the rains had To add to slept & mg guttered and which were obstructed by loose stones. Persnader the danger and inconvenience, we were constantly meeting re- R for the turning tourists on foot or horseback, and as constantly being Lot crowded and battered by ascending tourists who were in a hurry Slept bt and wanted to get by. Qur troubles thickened. About the middle of the afternoon Would ot yself ey A TRAMP ABROAD, 219 o { gk fly the seventeen guides called a halt and held a consultation. After M oy consulting an hour they said their first suspicion remained intact —that is to say, they believed they were lost. I asked if they 6 e gy o Wil g did not know it ? No, they said, they couldn’t absolutely know L1t g fl g}y whether they were lost or not, because none of them had ever been in that part of the country before. 07| g W i They had a strong in- stinct that they were lost, but they had no proofs, except that I3, g i by, 0fh) they did not know where they were. They had met no tourists e flpphu% I} for some time, and they considered that a suspicious sign. Plainly we were in an ugly fix. The guides were naturally 1 ] rodg by unwilling to go alone and seek a way out of the difficulty ; sowe oy of§, too fyllty all went together. For better security we moved slowly and am Which cautiously, for the forest was very dense. We did not move up the mountain, but around it, hoping to strike across the old . so0 afyyg trail. Toward nightfall, when we were about tired out, we O bl came up against a rock as big as a cottage. This barrier took he “‘P; g gty e, the ¢ all the remaining spirit out of the men, and a panic of fear and despair ensued. They moaned and wept, and said they should 7 a gentle never see their homes and their dear ones again, Then they of Winkel executed began to upbraid me for bringing them upon this fatal expe- dition. Some even muttered threats against me. over the I Clearly it was no time to show weakness. So I made a d[’P]O speech in which I said that other Alp-climbers had been in as teteh of m perilous a position as this, and yet by courage and perseverance of deserted i offered an had escaped. I promised to stand by them ; I promised to res- {2 cue them. I closed by saying we had plenty of provisions to Ipped, ¢ maintain us for quite a siege; and did they suppose Zermatt and then vt would allow half a mile of men and mules to mysteriously dis- appear during any considerable time, right above their noses, ] by candl and make no inquiries ? No, Zermatt would send out searching ars W expeditions, and we should be saved. grents 3l This speech had a great effect. The men pitched the tents The ouds, with some little show of cheerfulness, and we were snugly under 5 guing B e cover when the night shut down. I now reaped the reward of 2 my wisdom in providing one article which" 1 s not mentioned in ay i folat] any book of Alpine adventure but this. I refer to the paregoric. oy wode | But for that beneficent drug, not one of those men would have slept a moment during that fearful night. But for that gentle o the i 24 s, Toalt persuader they must have tossed, unsoothed, the night through ; for the whisky was for me. Yes, they would have risen in the iy meei As it was, everybody sonsandf % | morning unfitted for their heavy task. gereins 10 slept but my agent and me—only we two and the barkeepers. I would not permit myself to sleep at such a time. I considered I meant to be on hand f he afet myself responsible for all those lives. ! 220 A TRAMP ABROAD, jons i and ready, in case of avalanches, I am aware now that there Porl mafe o f were no avalanches up there, but I did not know it then. gy &1 Bl ]l'\d nofl]l We watched the weather all through that awful night, and kept an eye on the barometer, to be prepared for the least 0 00 i) he € nded 08 change. There was not the slightest change recorded by the o nt dom instrument, during the whole time. Words cannot describe the comfort that that friendly, hopeful, steadfast thing was to me in Jobridge that season of trouble. faut “@nd W It was a defective barometer, and had . he el 42 no hand but the stationary brass pointer, but I did not know Je, and that until afterward. If I should be in such a situation again, I e by & oused abel should not wish for any barometer but that one. edofart All hands rose at two in the morning and took breakfast, and as soon as it was light we roped ourselves together and went il fetoserved frain of nae at that rock. For some time we tried the hook-rope and other means of scaling it, but without success—that is, without perfect By pightll success. faken 0. The hook caught once, and Harris started up it, hand Next mot over hand, but the hold broke, and if there bad not happened to be a chaplain sitting underneath at the time, Harris would cer- our vay Wes He nature of the tainly have been crippled. As it was, it was the chaplain. took to his crutches, and I ordered the hook-rope to be laid g dull despon fhat not co] aside. It was too dangerous an implement where so many people that we were were standing around. We were puzzled for a while; then somebody thought of the cireumstance ladders. to sugest One of these was leaned against the rock, and the men there must went up it tied together in- couples. Another ladder was sent up for use in descending. At the end of half an hour everybody fime, yeb we Demord was over, and that rock was conquered. We gave our first grand shout of triumph. But the joy was short-lived, for some- done quickl : body asked how we were going to get the animals over. I contrived mised well, This was a serious difficulty ; in fact, it was an impossibility. The courage of the men began to waver immediately; once one end of find the 1o more we were threatened with a paniec. But when the danger was most imminent, we were saved in a mysterious way. A guide himg mule which had attracted attention from the beginning by its suceess, he disposition to experiment, tried to eat a five-pound can of nitro- Lpon fhe glycerine. This happened right alongside the rock. The ex- and Into plosion threw us all to the ground, and covered us with dirt and the rope débris; it frightened us extremely, too, for the crash it made was ith exgey deafening, and the violence of the shock made the ground other timeg tremble. However, we were grateful, for the rock was gone. gttt iy Its place was occupied by a new cellar, about thirty feet across, ips whe by fifteen feet deep. The explosion was heard as far as Zermatt; over halfy and an hour and a half afterward many citizens of that town 800 ahy) were knocked down and quite seriously injured by descending i held oy A TRAMP ABROAD. 221 0} Toy ‘ ther W1t portions of mule meat, frozen solid. This shows, better than Lawy any estimate in figures, how high the experimenter went. h i ] fy g, g We had nothing to do now but bridge the cellar and proceed on our way. With a cheer the men went at their work. I d " Tetorgeg by g attended to the engineering myself. I appointed a strong detail 08 ey 06ty b Was 1 to cut down trees with ice-axes and trim them for piers to support the bridge. This was a slow business, for ice-axes are not good ‘mmh(fll‘ a g b to cut wood with. gy y I caused my piers to be firmly set up in ranks in the cellar, and upon them I laid six of my forty-foot ladders, i gy | L S.m side by side, and laid six more on top of them. Upon this bridge 1 ¢ I caused a bed of boughs to be spread, and on top of the boughs 0k breg () a bed of earth six inches deep. I stretched ropes upon either MUEL an ey i A side to serve as railings, and then my bridge was complete. band oty train of elephants could have crossed it in safety and comfort. 00| 00 e By nightfall the caravan was on the other side, and the ladders f bnd taken up. 10 1o} Ir ] ; Tou ¥ Next morning we went on in good spirits for a while, though our way was slow and difficult, by reason of the steep and rocky chaphin, § :; nature of the ground and the thickness of the forest; but at last C10pe fo i i a dull despondency crept into the men’s faces, and it was apparent 50 many Pa,;ig that not only they, but even the guides, were now convinced that we were lost. The fact that we still met no tourists was a ) dy thought o | circumstance that was but too significant. Another thing seemed ock, and the to suggest that we were not only lost, but very badly lost; for r adder wa there must surely be searching parties on the road before this 0 hour ever time, yet we had seen no sign of them. fe gare ou Demoralisation was spreading ; something must be done, and tJived, or s done quickly too. Fortunately, I am not unfertile in expedients. als over I contrived one now which commended itself to all, for it pro- 340 ] I mised well. I took three-quarters of a mile of rope and fastened mediat one end of it around the waste of a guide, and told him to go and I instructed him to when the = d find the road, whilst the caravan waited. guide himself back by the rope, in case of failure; in case of ferious TaJ ! beginung by success, he was to give the rope a series of violent jerks, where- nd can of i upon the Expedition would go to him at once. He departed, and in two minutes had disappeared among the trees. I paid out ook, Theer g with dir al the rope myself, while everybody watched the crawling thing with eager eyes. The rope crept away quite slowly, at times, at osh 1 maders other times with some briskness. Twice or thrice we seemed to 5 te g get the signal, and a shout was just ready to break from the men’s rock i 1% lips when they perceived it was a false alarm. But at last, when ity et 401y over half a mile of rope had slidden away, it stopped gliding and fipas il stood absolutely still—one minute—two minutes—three—while of 08 we held our breath and watched. by desel j 222 A TRAMP ABROAD. el i =1 Was the guide resting? Was he scanning the country from wmmflfi gome high point ? Was he inquiring of a chance moun- Yk fimé- taineer ? Stop—had he fainted from excess of fatigue and e Proce:élc anxiety ? et & This thought gave us a shock. I was in the very act of oo S T 0 detailing an expedition to succour him, when the cord was Jiing 4O assailed with a series of such frantic jerks that I could hardly 1068 mumph 1 .was ¢ keep hold of it. The huzza that went up, then, was good to hear. 10 gmde tied t0 ¢Saved ! saved !’ was the word that rang out, all down the long The fuy rank of the caravan. We found the route to be r&m’ f €TeD want We rose up and started at once. jnnocent dumb good enough for a while, but it began to grow difficult, by-and-by, and this feature steadily increased. When we judged we had penaced 1Y 3 rocaimed that gone half a mile, we momently expected to see the guide; but drectly over no, he was not visible anywhere; neither was he waiting, for the still moving, consequently he was doing the same. sealed, exeept rope was their fell pury This argue d that he had not found the road yet, but was marching 1 see {hat adv to it with some peasant. There was nothing for us to do but ) el eges; 1 plod along, and this we did. At the end of three hours we were el again still plodding. This was not only mysterious, but exasperating. And very fatiguing, too; for we had tried hard, along at first, to by the very catch up with the guide, but had only fagged ourselves in vain; more the t column as [ for although he was travelling slowly he was yet able to go faster than the hampered caravan over such ground. Rodman gun At three in the afternoon we were nearly dead with ex- T was s The of ingratitud haustion—and still the rope was slowly gliding out. treacherous murmurs against the guide had been growing, steadily, and at last they were become loud and savage. A mutiny ensued. The work in thos Tam Was sef men refused to proceed. They declared that we had been Welive travelling over and over the same ground all day, in a kind of circle. They demanded that our end of the rope be made fast s e had suspicon, | to a tree, so as to halt the guide until we could overtake him and kill him. This was not an unreasonable requirement, so I gave 0V 80 b the order. onif mekiy lyngin g As soon as the rope was tied, the Expedition moved forward with that alacrity which the thirst for vengeance usually inspires. allowed ghe But after a tiresome march of almost half a mile, we came to a nid itelf of hill covered thick with a crumbly rubbish of stones, and so steep Up with gl that no man of us all was now in a condition to climb it. Every a0 roung j attempt failed, and ended in crippling somebody. Within twenty I5overy ] minutes I had five men on crutches. Whenever a climber tried and the S to assist himself by the rope,.it yielded and let him tumble back- i, [ had § wards. The frequency of this resulf suggested an idea to me. alled it I ordered the caravan to 'bout face and form in marching order; 8l g A TRAMP ABROAD. 223 u]e Qg‘m 4 Qhan by foy I then made the tow-rope fast to the rear mule, (8 command— and gave the fty (I} any ¢ Mark time—by the right flank—forward—march !’ b 1y of The procession began to move, to the impressive strains of a - e A\ battle chant, and I said tom Y yself, “Now, if the rope don’t break, I judge this will fetch that guide into the camp.’ I watched the at | COuld }a ALY rope gliding down the hill, and presently when I was all fixed for al o L} L fog triumph I was confronted by a bitter disappointment: there was n no guide tied to the rope, it was only a very indignant old black Ild hn 0y ok e § ram. The fary of the baffled Expedition ‘exceeded all bounds. ey even wanted to wreak their unreasoning vengeance on this lmCuIt’ b) Ay " Judged innocent dumb brute. But I stood between them and their prey, v I menaced by a bristling wall of ice-axes and alpenstocks, and the g Ui proclaimed that the was but one road to this murder, and it was ‘ej\:aiting, fir ; b directly over my co £ ) domg he g e. HEven as I spoke I saw that my doom was sealed, except a miracle supervened to divert these madmen from y 00 \Yfismflfim their fell purpose. I see that sickening wall of weapons now; for us o ¢ s I see that advancing host as I saw it then, I see the hate in those 166 Bous v cruel eyes; I remember how I drooped my head upon my breast; but exageny I feel again the sudden earthquake shock in my rear, administered , along ot ] by the very ram I was sacrificing myself to save; I hear once urselves in more the typhoon of laughter that burst from the assaulting f able fogo column as I clove it from van to rear like a Sepoy shot from a Rodman gun. ly dead yith & I was saved. Yes, I was saved, and by the merciful instinct i iling o, § o of ingratitude which nature had planted in the breast of that cadily, and 4 treacherous beast. The grace which eloquence had failed to (Iny €08 work in those men’s hearts had been wrought by a laugh.. The at we lad ram was set free and my life was spared. = We lived to find out that that guide had deserted us as soon day,in & k}\ as he had placed a half-mile between himself and us. To aver. o be overfake b suspicion, he had judged it best that the line should continue to ementy 0 | 3 move; so he caught that ram, and at the time that he was sitting on it making the rope fast to it, we were imagining that he was , mored forl}‘zri !‘ lying in a swoon, overcome by fatigue and distress. When he allowed the ram to get up, it fell to plunging around, trying to usaly e g Ve (¢ i rid itself of the rope, and this was the signal which we had risen up with glad shouts to obey. We had followed this ram round 15, ad 954 and round in a circle all day—a thing which was proven by the Jinb . 37 Tithinfret] discovery that we had watered the Expedition seven times at one and the same spring in seven hours. As expert a woodman as I climber 1 p tunbl am, I had somehow failed to notice this until my attention was called to it by a hog. Thisv*}_l_g_g‘was always wallowing there, and b l.dfflt fo ke | as he was the only hog we saw, his frequent repetition, together lflrcbfflg ol 224 A TRAMP ABROAD. 1 eotl with his unvarying similarity to himself, finally caused me to tlld ) reflect that he must be the same hog, and this led me to the :clelmfic ) bol deduction that this must be the same spring also—which indeed i ot 10 it was. 1 boll I made a note of this curious thing, as showing in a striking fhese instrume manner the relative difference between (=] glacial action and the it hes [of the action of the hog. It is now a well-established fact that glaciers fhe Jal move; I consider that my observations go to show, with equal have bDl led i I shall conclusiveness, that a hog in a spring does not move. ] nted 0 be glad to receive the opinions of other observers upon this point. olled 3 h‘flh g To return, for an explanatory moment, to that guide, and yere S then I shall be done with him. = After leaving the ram tied to ot affeced & the rope, he had wandered at large a while, and then happened e onp to run across a cow. dJudging that a cow would naturally know gon, Changed more than a guide, he took her by the tail, and the result justified Hked by 2 She nibbled her leisurely way down-hill till it his judgment. every 4a]: was near milking time; then she struck for home and towed him e dnjured into Zermatt. my satishet therefore conld take CHAPTER XXXVIIL weather m it was g oorns, 1 WE went into camp on that wild spot to which that ram had brought us. The men were greatly fatigued. Their conviction governmen that we were lost was forgotten in the cheer of a good supper, upon them to the cook and before the reaction had a chance to set in, I loaded them up with paregoric and put them to bed. found tha the defect Next morning I was considering in my mind our desperate to the sul situation and trying to think of a remedy, when Harris came to me with a Baedeker map which showed conclusively that the moun- T next tain we were on was still in Switzerland—yes, every part of it i i sl the was in Switzerland. So we were not lost, after all. This was opinion ¢ to indica an immense relief: it lifted the weight of two such mountains from my breast. I immediately had the news disseminated and of 200 the map exhibited, The effect was wonderful. As soon as the etermal g men saw with their own eyes that they knew where they were, 10 Sn0w and that it was only the summit that was lost and not them- ternal g selves, they cheered up instantly and said with one accord, let and dogg the summit take care of itself, they were not interested in its one whil troubles. Was 4s Our distresses being at an end, I now determined to rest the Qeserteq men in camp and give the scientific department of the Expedition fure, [t a chance, Tirst Imade a barometric observation, to get our alti- s q Pflng 76 by A TRAMP ABROAD. 22 h i 1§ Jo] e g fo 10 fhy tude, but I could not perceive that there wasany result. I knew, ~vlig gy i by my scientific reading, that either thermometers or barometers ought to be boiled, to make them accurate ; I did not know which a 5?11]*{0 it was, so I boiled both. There was still no result; so I examined 100 g i these instruments and discovered that they possessed radical ble- it o] mishes: the barometer had no hand but the brass pointer, and Wy W i the ball of the thermometer was stuffed with tin foil. I might Yt Mova | have boiled those things to rags, and never found out anything. pon 1 hunted up another barometer ; it was new and perfect. I | 'Jide‘. af Dboiled it half an hour in a pot of bean soup which the cooks B A o] f) were making. The result was unexpected : the instrument was 1 4] 1annened not affected at all, but there was such a strong barometer taste to the soup that the head cook, who was a most conscientious per- e | gon, changed its name in the bill of fare. The dish was so greatly 0w, liked by all, that I ordered the cook to have barometer soup every day. It was believed that the barometer might eventually 16 ang I(;\;'efl Elm I had demonstrated to be injured, but I did not care for that. my satisfaction that it could not tell how high a mountain was, therefore T had no real use for it. Changes of the weather I could take care of withoutit; I did not wish to know when the weather was going to be good ; what I wanted to know was when it was going to be bad, and this I could find out from Harris’s h that 1 el corns. Harris had had his corns tested and regulated at the Their government observatory in Heidelberg, and one could depend [a upon them with confidence. So I transferred the new barometer (03 to the cooking department, to be used for the official mess. It was found that even a pretty fair article of soup could be made with the defective barometer ; so I allowed that one to be transferred d our el to the subordinate messes. I next boiled the thermometer, and got a most excellent re- sult; the mercury went up to about 200° Fahrenheit. In the opinion of the other scientists of the Expedition, this seemed to indicate that we had attained the extraordinary altitude m of 200,000 feet above sea level. Science places the line of eternal snow at about 10,000 feet above sea level. There was As soon pre i il no snow where we were, consequently it was proven that the eternal snow line ceases somewhere above the 10,000 foot level ind nd 106 This as an interesting fact, and ne and does not begin any more. It one which had not been observed by any observer before. (i was as valuable as interesting, too, since it would open up the deserted summits of the highest Alps to population and agricul- ot ture. It was a proud thing to be where we were, yet it caused e Expediljfifl us a pang to reflect that but for that ram we might just as well o have been 200,000 feet higher. Q 226 A TRAMNP ABROAD. A t0 il The success of my last experiment induced me to try an ex- Ll Jwst mi periment with my photographic apparatus. I got it out, and boiled one of my cameras, but the thing was a failure: it made 5, e ) the wood swell up and burst, and I could not see that the lenses q 0 it gLl i ther were any better than they were before. Jid iny 0 I now concluded to boil a guide. It might improve him, it 1 his ol I could not impair his usefulness. But I was not allowed to pro- 1 Jlife ceed. 25 T Guides have no feeling for science, and this one would not el 2 U consent to be made uncomfortable in its interest. ad I In the midst of my scientific work, one of those needless acci- at e 2 n‘ea.ure el dents happened which are always occurring among the ignorant and thoughtless. A porter shot at a chamois and missed it and (e mou had 00 f e crippled the Latinist. This was not a serious matter to me, for Iualm a Latinist’s duties are as well performed on crutches as otherwise —but the fact remained that if the Latinist had not happened to o calt o d more be in the way a mule would have got that load. That would yere 00F font have been quite another matter, for when it comes down to a question of value there is a palpable difference between a Latinist yitich 1 WeS o particulam and a mule. I could not depend on having a Latinist in the right place every time; so, to make things safe, I ordered that in o Wed future the chamois must not be hunted within the limits of the Riffelberg camp with any other weapon than the forefinger. completed My nerves had hardly grown quiet after this affair when they Ve had makes its i got another shake-up—one which utterly unmanned me for a moment : a rumour swept suddenly through the camp that one solid ice, wo of the barkeepers had fallen over a precipice. and we coul However, it turned out that it was only a chaplain. I had Rurggen G laid in an extra force of chaplains, purposely to be prepared for The m in fronf of emergencies like this, but by some unaccountable oversight had come away rather short-handed in the matter of barkeepers. mediately 1 On the following morning we moved on, well refreshed and along 3t pr consisted in in good spirits. I remember this day with peculiar pleasure, because it saw our road restored to us. Yes, we found our road interrupted again, and in quite an extraordinary way. We had plodded along WE— bottles on some two hours and a half, when we came up against a solid for Alping ¢ mass of rock about twenty feet high. I did not need to be in- for Rl y Leaving structed by a mule this time.—I was already beginning to know more than any mule in the Expedition.—I at once put in a blast the clilet, of dynamite, and lifted that rock out of the way. But to my scientif surprise and mortification, I found that there had been a chalet ardly egu on top of it. Jouth of g} T I picked up such members of the family as fell in my vicinity, ! ‘Pl'ettyl and subordinates of my corps collected the rest. None of these Vs, Thepy poor people were injured, happily, but they were much annoyed. Beats~]f I A TRAMP ABROAD. 227 ¢ try gy, I explained to the head chaleteer just how the thing happened, mlt, and flyyg mfle and that I was only searching for the road, and would certainly ® that g have given him timely notice if I had known he was up there. I said I had meant no harm, and hoped I had not lowered my- Prog self in his estimation by raising him a few rods in the air. I said many other judicious things, and finally when I offered to t aHO\ved fy i 1 0ng g u, he was mollified and satisfied. rebuild his chalet, and pay for breakages, and throw in the cellar, He hadn’t any cellar at all, before;; he would not have as good a view, now, as formerly, but 5138 Hefidleg g what he had lost in view he had gained in cellar, by “exact 8 e iy measurement. He said there wasn’t another hole like that in W D the mountains—and he would have been right if the late mule atfey to me’ f“ had not tried to eat up the nitroglycerine. 25 oheryy, I put a hundred and sixteen men at work, and they rebuilt m ADnened iat ol the chalet from its own débris in fifteen minutes:™ It was a good deal more picturesque than it was before, too. The man said we 0ntes dopnfy, were now on the Feli-Stutz, above the Schwegmatt—information een g [ which I was glad to get, since it gave us our position to a degree Lafuig of particularity which we had not been accustomed to for a da ordered th or so. We also learned that we were standing at the foot of the o it s Riffelberg proper, and that the initial chapter of our work was completed. Tlr when ’ We had a fine view, from here, of the energetic Visp, as it N ed m malkes its first plunge into the world from under a huge arch of Calp ! solid ice, worn through the foot-wall of the great Gorner Glacier; aud we could also see the Furggenbach, which is the outlet of the apldl n [ Furggen Glacier. \er The mule-road to the summit of the Riffelberg passed right Ove in front of the chalet, a circumstance which we almost im- thet mediately noticed, because a procession of tourists was filing along it pretty much all the time.! The chaleteer’s business [1ar piéd consisted in furnishing refreshments to tourists. My blast had ind o interrupted this trade for a few minutes, by breaking all the ) lo fed bottles on the place ; but I gave the man a lot of whisky to sell i . for Alpine champagne, and a lot of vinegar which would answer for Rhine wine, consequently trade was soon as brisk as ever. ol oI ing kP Leaving the Expedition outside to rest, I quartered myself in it ina ¥ the chalet, with Harris, purposing to correct my journals and scientific observations before continuing the ascent. I had But b2y e 8 fij]jr'! hardly begun my work when a tall, slender, vigorous American youth of about twenty-three, who was on his way down the i ! ¢ Pretty much’ may not be elegant English, but it is high timeit e of fieé was, There is no elegant word or phrase which means just what it means,—M., T, ot Q2 228 A TRAMP ABROAD. ‘S,DOH mountain, entered and came toward me with that breezy self- complacency which is the adolescent’s idea of the well-bred ease {he et qon Rome ) of the man of the world. His hair was short and parted accurately 0{ fll in the middle, and he had all the look of an American person llent fhose O hep AP who would be likely to begin his signature with an initial, and spell st st o 200 his middle name out. He introduced himself, smiling a smirk ou smile borrowed from the courtiers of the stage, extended a fair- (ne & day § asant’s A0 skinned talon, and whilst he gripped my hand in it he bent hig o, WOIS ] bedy forward three times at the hips, as the stage-courtier does, sl and said in the airiest and most condescending and patronising s orerlooke | qoain JOU Wi : way—I quote his exact language— ¢ Very glad to make your acquaintance, 'm sure; very glad il he e chanbers by indeed, assure you. I’ve read all your little efforts and greatly , I, You admired them, and when I heard you were here, I . . . I indicated a chair, and he sat down. This grandee was the 1.8, A T, b grandson of an American of considerable note in his day, and G5, not wholly forgotten yet—a man who came so near being a great man that he was quite generally accounted one while he lived. m Europe. I slowly paced the floor, pondering scientific problems, and apen to me heard this conversation : pleasu, 20 Grandson. First visit to Europe ? palaces of Yes. Harris. Mine ? titled perso G. S. (With a soft reminiscent sigh suggestive of by-gone vilations a where Lar joys that may be tasted in their freshness but once.) Ah, I know what it is to you. A first visit !—ah, the romance of it ! in the Jand I wish I could feel it again. the Im D o o It is enchantment. 1, It . Yes, I find it exceeds all my dreams. I (¢} a little o G. S, (.\Vith a dainty gesture of the hand signifying, ¢ Spare 6.8 me your callow enthusiasms, good friend.”) Yes, / know, I There’s n know ; you go to cathedrals, and exclaim ; and you drag through Boston'y v couldn't ¢ league-long picture-galleries and exclaim ; and you stand here, and there, and yonder, upon historic ground, and continue to Where's th exclaim; and you are permeated with your first crude concep- a.good opi tions of Art, and are proud and happy. Ah, yes, proud and travelled 4 happy—that expresses it. Yes, yes, enjoy it—it is right—it is i pain n an innocent revel. 18,60 leaye I1. And you? Don’t you do these things now ? His tate © S 1LY Oh, that is wery good ! My dear sir, when you When [ g are as old a traveller as I am, you will not ask such a question ain, [, asthat. [ visit the regulation gallery, moon around the regula- I I tion cathedral, do the worn round of the regulation sights, yet? —HExcuse me ! G5 ] follo g H. Well, what do you do, then? iy A TRAMP ABROAD. 229 at brEE h ) & [ & wel] br G. S. Do? Iflit—and flit—for I am ever on the wing—but I rte] eyt avoid the herd. To-day I am in Paris, to-morrow in Berlin, anon in Rome; but you would look for me in vain in the Loy i galleries of the Louvre or the common resorts of the gazers in liine A sy u\[ those other capitals. If you would find me, you must look in the "‘J € tende] unvisited nooks and corners where others never think of going. m gt he } One day you will find me making myself at home in some obscure d E-Coutje peasant’s cabin, another day you will find me in some forgotten castle, worshipping some little gem of art which the careless eye B and paty i has overlooked and which the unexperienced would despise; again you will find me a guest in the inner sanctuaries of palaces T yon while the herd is content to get a hurried glimpse of the unused Al chambers by feeing a servant. grandes y If . You are a guest in such places ? G. S. And a welcome one. II. 1t is surprising. How does it come ? G. S. My grandfather’s name is a passport to all the courts m Europe. ¢ prob I bave only to utter that name and every door is open to me. I flit from court to court at my own free will and pleasure, and am always welcome. I am as much at home in the palaces of Europe as you are among your relatives. I know every titled person in Europe, I think. I have my pockets full of in- ive of | vitations all the time. I am under promise now to go to Italy, once) = where I am to be the guest of a succession of the noblest houses T0mance o 11 in the land. In Berlin my life is a continued round of gaicty in the Imperial palace. It is the same wherever I go. 1 enchanoet But it must make Boston seem I. It must be very pleasant. a little slow when you are at home. e G. S. Yes, of course it does. But I don’t go home much. There’s no life there—little to feed a man’s higher nature. d Boston’s very narrow, you know. She doesn’t know it, and you | couldn’t convince her of it; so I say nothing when I'm there: where’s the use? d ¢ Yes, Boston is very narrow, but she has such (rude a good opinion of herself that she can’t see it. A man who has travelled as much as I have, and seen as much of the world, sees it plain enough, but he can’t cure it, you know, so the best way is to leave it and seck a sphere which is more in harmony with his tastes and culture. I run across there once a year perhaps, 1Al when I have nothing important on hand, but I'm very soon back h 4 (1t again. I spend my time in Europe. H. see. You map out your plans and K il I c]"b 15 ) il 1L G. S. No, excuse me. I don’t map out any plans. Isimply follow the inclination of the day. I am limited by no ties, no requirements; I am not bound in any way. I am tooold a 230 A TRAMP ABROAD. el ovely travelleeto hamper myself with deliberate purposes. Tam simply ot oSt a traveller—an inveterate traveller—a man of the world, in a i 0 5 word—I can call myself by no other name. I do not say, ‘I am 0 Qlfifim going here, or I am going there;’ I say nothing at all, I only act. i) 06 fi" 0 € “c()\lfa For instance, next week you may find me the guest of a grandee th dr uom a0 of Spain, or you may find me off for Venice, or flitting toward WQ jint /vht Dresden. I shall probably go to Egypt presently; friends will ey say to friends, ¢ He is at the Nile cataracts;’ and at that very b latort moment they will be surprised to learn that I'm away off yonder in India somewhere. forin (8 % I am a constant surprise to people. They aqalns 51 g grall are always saying, ¢ Yes, he was in Jerusalem when we heard of artO 00 Al him last, but goodness knows where he is now.’ The dif Presently the Grandson rose to leave—discovered he had an couAZe a8 appointment with some Emperor, perhaps. He did his graces fo s P over again : gripped me with one talon, at arm’s length, pressed - yithout toe his hat against his stomach with the other, bent his body in the middle three times, murmuring— 15ce1'ine. bilty of ¢ Pleasure, 'm sure; great pleasure, 'm sure. Wish you much yalked pro success.’ Hotel and Then he removed his gracious presence. It is a great and Teg I solemn thing te have a grandfather. it i el I have not purposed to misrepresent this boy in any way, for - what little indignation he excited in me soon passed and left allswere Was uople nothing behind it but compassion. One cannot keep up a grudge There against a vacuum. I have tried to repeat the lad’s very words; Jadies and it T have failed anywhere, I have at least not failed to reproduce which i the marrow and meaning of what he said. He and the had been ) innocent chatterbox whom I met on the Swiss lake are the a stone m most unique and interesting specimens of Young America I T bl came across during my foreign tramping. The grandson of twenty-three referred to himself five or six times as an ‘old CUrious 1 mountain traveller,” and as many as three times (with a serene complacency that I bad which was maddening) as a ‘man of the world.’ There was Thers by something very delicious about his leaving Boston to her ¢nar- rowness,” unreproved and uninstructed. Grat) I formed the caravan in marching order presently, and after looksa gl and dang riding down the line to see that it was properly roped together, gave the command to proceed. In a little while the road carried mometer, us to open, grassy land. We were above the troublesome forest in chany all the y now, and had an uninterrupted view, straight before us, of our summit—the summit of the Riffelberg. breezy g 1ore. thg We followed the mule road, a zigzag course, now to the right, now to the left, but always up, and always crowded and exploit i incommoded by going and coming files of reckless tourists who T A TRAMP ABROAD. 231 Ty mply were never, in a single instance, tied together. I was obliged to he Worlg g exert the utmost care and caution, for in many places the road o ggy ¢ ) iy ball | 0 was not two yards wide, and often the lower side of it sloped Jag away in slanting precipices eight and even nine feet deep. I had S0 Ay i t to encourage the men constantly, to keep them from giving way ity {owyg to their unmanly fears. J) triendy il We might have made the summit before night but for a | Ihflt Ty » % delay caused by the loss of an umbrella. I was for allowing the J O o o umbrella to remain lost, but the men murmured, and with reason, Ople, fl,y for in this exposed region we stood in peculiar need of protection 0 Ve by against avalanches; so I went into camp and detached a strong arty to go after the missing article. The difficulties of the next morning were severe, but our dih IE hal bl S gats courage was high, for our goal was near. At noon we conquered lengh, the last impediment—we stood at last upon the summit—and without the loss of a single man, except the mule that ate the S body iy glycerine. Our great achievement was achieved—the possi- Wish Joumuh bility of the impossible was demonstrated, and Harris and I | walked proudly into the great dining-room of the Riffelberg is gt | Hotel and stood our Alpenstocks up in the corner. Yes, I had made the grand ascent; but it was a mistake to do 1L any way, it in evening dress. The plug hats were battered, the swallow- tails were fluttering rags, mud added no grace, the general effect was unpleasant and even disreputable. D Upa gruogs 3V There were about seventy-five tourists at the hotel—mainly ladies and little children—and they gave us an admiring welcome eato e The ascent He and which paid us for all our privations and sufferings. I i had been made, and the names and dates now stand recorded on a stone monument there to prove it to all future tourists. g Anery ] ' - I boiled a thermometer and took an altitude, with a most y grandsn curious result: the summit was not as ligh as the point on the s 250 ‘ol mountain side where I had taken the first altitude. Suspecting o complet] ! There 8 that I had made an important discovery, I prepared to verify it. There happened to be a still higher summit (called the Gorner fp her ‘mite Grat) above the hotel, and notwithstanding the fact that it over- looks a glacier from a dizzy height, and that the ascent is difficult I, ad and dangerous, I resolved to venture up there and boil a ther- e tgel mometer. So I sent a strong party, with some borrowed hoes, road in charge of two chiefs of service, to dig a stairway in the soil some 1% all the way, and this I ascended, roped to the guides. This puy 0 breezy height was the summit proper—so I accomplished even more than I had originally purposed to do. This fool-hardy oW fo e exploit is recorded on another stone monument. ro“’ded i [ I boiled my thermometer, and sure enough this spot, which Dmnts o 232 A TRAMP ABROAD. ofl purported to be 2,000 feet higher than the locality of the hotel, om0 fhe turned out to be 9,000 feet lower. Thus the fact was clearly qunt demonstrated that, above a certain point, the higher a point seems g o omiel to be, the lower it actually 1s. Our ascent itself was a great 3 achievement, but this contribution to science was an inconceivably [0 of ea&ed greater matter. Al 00 Cavillers object that water boils at a lower and lower tem- I R an i a0 il % e perature the higher and higher you go, and hence the apparent anomaly. I answer that I do not base my theory upon what the by S oW boiling water does, but upon what a boiled thermometer says. pe You can’t go behind the thermometer. frng i 2 I had a magnificent view of Monte Rosa, and apparently all ualngy the rest of the Alpine world, from that high place. All the {osun 1S circling horizon was piled high with a mighty tumult of snowy Jirtothe crests. One might have imagined he saw before him the tented finf to it~ arepttle camps of a beleaguering host of Brobdingnagians. But lonely, conspicuous, and superb rose that wonderful Jook it v upright wedge, the Matterhorn. Its precipitous sides were pow- {he sun 18 dered over with snow, and the upper half hidden in thick clouds which now and then dissolved to cobweb films and gave brief glimpses of the imposing tower as through a veil. A little later e the Matterhorn ! took to himself the semblance of a volcano; he was stripped naked to his apex—around this circled vast wreaths of white cloud which strung slowly out and streamed away slant- A come- wise toward the sun, a twenty-mile stretch of rolling and tum- 4 man bling vapour, and looking just as if it were pouring out of a Riffelber crater. Later again, one of the mountain’s sides was clean and strange < clear, and another side densely clothed from base to summit in 1D thick smoke-like cloud which feathered off and blew around the shaft’s sharp edge like the smoke around the corners of a burning ‘building. The Matterhorn is always experimenting, ?iré In the sunset, when all the and always gets up fine effects too. hou | lower world is palled in gloom, it points toward heaven out of the pervading blackness like a finger of fire. In the sunrise— well, they say it is very fine in the sunrise. Authorities agree that there is no such tremendous ‘lay out’ % of snowy Alpine magnitude, grandeur, and sublimity to be seen f:; I Lim ! Nore.—I had the very unusual luck to catch one little momentary glimpse of the Matterhorn wholly unencumbered by clouds. I levelled my 11 photographic apparatus at it without the loss of an instant, and should 41 have got an elegant picture if my donkey had not interfered. It was my Tvant purpose to draw this photograph all by myself for my book, but was obliged 3.6 to put the mountain part of it into the hands of the professional artist fiflger.b( because I found I could not do landscape well, 4T 253 of fhe A TRAMP ABROAD. i g W g from any other accessible point as the tourist may see from the P summit of the Riffelberg. Therefore let the tourist rope him- O poi o g Qe self up and go there; for I have shown that with nerve, caution, ‘; 1conge and judgment the thing can be done. ;abf}, T wish to add one remark here—in parentheses, so to speak— dlux\(r f I suggested by the word ¢snowy,” which I have just used. We f have all seen hills and mountains and levels with snow on them, I n Uffn W i and so we think we know all the aspects and effects produced by snow. But indeed we do not, until we have seen the Alps. Possibly mass and distance add something—at any rate some- nfly thing zs added. Among other noticeable things, there is a apare Ally " a il Il fhe dazzling, intense whiteness about the distant Alpine snow when 111111 the sun is on it, which one recognises as peculiar, and not fami- The snow which one is accustomed to has a i the zemti | liar to the eye. tint to it—painters usually give it a bluish cast—but there is no perceptible tint to the distant Alpine snow when it is trying to 036 Won Were oy look its whitest. As to the unimaginable splendour of it when the gun is blazing down on it—well, it simply ¢s unimaginable. ] gare A CHAPTER XXXIX. \l iy A GUIDE-BOOK is a queer thing. The reader has just seen what ant a man who undertakes the great ascent from Zermatt to the Tng otk o Yet Baedeker makes these d Riffelberg Hotel must experience. 43 strange statements concerning this matter :— o Sl I}lli‘.. 1. Distance—three hours. blewy arou ; 2. The road cannot be mistaken. 3. Guide unnecessary. CGT{)EFS (18] 4. Distance from Riffelberg Hotel to the Gorner Grat, one yhen hour and a half. eavel q’di u 5. Ascent simple and easy. Guide unnecessary. g sunrE— 6. Elevation of Zermatt above sea level, 5,315 feet. 7. Elevation of Riffelberg Iotel above sea level, 8,429 feet. ! 8. Elevation of the Gorner Grat above sea level, 10,289 feet. ) I I have pretty effectually throttled these errors by sending J o be s B Lim the following demonstrated facts :— Jp momentd] 1. Distance from Zermatt to Riffelberg Hotel, seven days. [ !ereflfd / 2. The road can be mistaken. If I am the first that did it, i ny I want the credit of it too. 8. Guides are necessary, for none but a native can read those sl h'gild ol 0108 finger-boards. 4, The estimate of the elevation of the several localities 234 A TRAMP ABROAD. above sea level is pretty correct—for Baedeker. He only misses ot me [ it about a hundred and eighty or ninety thousand feet. anel fi So'lcm\ui 4 I found my arnica invaluable. My men were suffering ex- cruciatingly, from the friction of sitting down so much. During o there ¥ : qolerhand two or three days not one of them was able to do more than lie down or walk about; yet so effective was the arnica, that on the geience Wl fourth all were able to sit up. I consider that, more than to any- por €Dy 1 Tt thing else, I owe the success of our great undertaking to arnica and paregoric. ot o My men being restored to health and strength, my main per- pan b (6 of some € plexity now was how to get them down the mountain again. I was not willing to expose the brave fellows to the perils, fatigues, ) 4 pointme et and hardships of that fearful route again if it could be helped. First I thought of balloons; but of course I had to give that fiing 1 idea up, for balloons were not procurable. I thought of several soon Tl ’r\fid hh [ other expedients, but upon consideration discarded them for cause. But at last T hif if. I was aware that the movement along of glaciers is an established fact, for I had read it in Baedeker; ad e (T so I resolved to take passage for Zermatt on the great Gorner Glacier. mm y} 1o e 1 Very good. The next thing was, how to get down to the glacier comfortably—for the mule-road to it was long, and wind- for enl ing, and wearisome. I set my mind at work, and soon thought It ‘I out a plan. One looks straight down upon the vast frozen river called the Gorner Glacier from the Gorner Grat—a sheer preci- reqreh pice 1,200 fect high. We had 154 umbrellas—and what is an You umbrella but a parachute ? ive— I mentioned this noble idea to Harris with enthusiasm, and I But was about to order the expedition to form on the Gorner Grat, with their umbrellas, and prepare for flicht by platoons, each tot he platoon in command of a guide, when Harris stopped me and ! urged me not to be too hasty. He asked me if this method of €XCUS descending the Alps had ever been tried before. I said, ¢ No, I had not heard of an instance.’ Then, in his opinion, it was a than ! U matter of considerable gravity; in his opinion it would not be he o well to send the whole command over the cliff at once; a better Was1 he fared. way would be to send down a single individual first, and see how in a stren I saw the wisdom of this idea instantly. I said as much, Wits and thanked my agent cordially, and told him to take his um- I brella and try the thing right away, and wave his hat when he G got down, if he struck in a soft place, and then I would ship the What rest right along. b Harris was greatly touched with this mark of coufidence, and jump 235 A TRAMP ABROAD. said so in a voice that had a perceptible tremble in it ; but at the same time he said he did not feel himself worthy of so con- mfiel’inn 0 lllch, D?lhnn spicuous a favour ; that it might cause jealousy in the command, for there were plenty who would not hesitate to say he had used 0t gy [, 4l : underhand means to get the appointment, whereas his con- science would bear him witness that he had not sought it at all, ‘e.than oy S1g to gy nor even, in his secret heart, desired it. I said these words did him extreme credit, but that he must Y iy ey not throw away the imperishable distinction of being the first man to descend an Alp per parachute, simply to save the feelings tm “flg‘ai:n. I of some envious underlings. No, I said, he must accept the TLS, fafio i appointment—it was no longer an invitation, it was a command. He thanked me with effusion, and said that putting the 0 g thy bt of sye] thing in this form removed every objection. He retired, and soon returned with his umbrella, his eyes flaming with gratitude ed them £ and his cheeks pallid with joy. Just then the head guide passed §1e oy along. Harris's expression changed to one of infinite tenderness, In Aty and he said— great Gore ¢That man did me a cruel injury four days ago, and I said in my heart he should live to perceive and confess that the only down to f ncble revenge a man can take upon his enemy is to return good g and vizd for evil. I resign in his favour. Appoint him.’ 001 {houg I threw my arms around the generous fellow and said— - frooen it ¢ Harris, you are the noblest soul that lives. You shall not sheet i regret this sublime act, neither shall the world fail to know of it. d wht 151 You shall have opportunities far transcending this one, too, if I live—remember that.’ hustasm, I called the head guide to me and appointed him on the spot. He did not take (Gormer G"M But the thing aroused no enthusiasm in him. atn to the idea at all. He said— me ¢ Tie myself to an umbrella and jump over the Gorner Grat; excuse me, there are a great many pleasanter roads to the devil than that.’ ‘flxd, \D‘I )i i f Upon a discussion of the subject with him, it appeared that (] dr" e he considered the project distinctly and decidedly dangerous. I oo 8 betlt was not convinced, yet I was not willing to try the experiment in any risky way that is, in a way that might cripple the e BT I was about at my strength and efliciency of the Expedition. wits’ end when it occurred to me to try it on the Latinist. 15 mith He was calied in. But he declined, on the plea of inexperi- ko hisult ence, diffidence in public, lack of curiosity, and I don’t know i what all. Another man declined on account of a cold in the Haip Another could not head ; thought he ought to avoid exposure. jump well—never could jump well—did not believe he could Jenth ol 236 A TRAMP ABROAD. ofl‘eq“ent ! jump so far without long and patient practice. Another was B afraid it was going to rain, and his umbrella had a hole in it. 1t it The result was what the reader has fho " o Everybody had an excuse. Preselt by this time guessed : the most magnificent idea that was ever conceived had to be abandoned from sheer lack of a person with for fh o fime gl qier a8 enterprise enough to carry it out. Yes, I actually had to give that thing up—whilst, doubtless, I should live to see somebody \pne 00! use it and take all the credit from me. 1558 et Well, I had to go overland—there was no other way. I Jash marched the Expedition down the steep and tedious mule-path the seelét qa10! nd U and took up as good a position as I could upon the middle of the glacier, because Baedeker said the middle part travels the fastest. A0S As a measure of economy, however, I put some of the heavier found a2 Jtsd, baggage on the shoreward parts, to go as slow freight. I waited and waited, but the glacier did not move. Night Jess fhan was coming on, the darkness began to gather—still we did not Jave e budge. It occurred to me then that there might be a time-table asmal¢ in Baedeker, it would be well to find out the hours of starting. Jistance I called for the book—it could not be found. Bradshaw would glacier, | certainly contain a time-table, but no Bradshaw could be found. walb 1t Very well, I must make the best of the situation. So I Iwild Wi pitched the tents, picketed the animals, milked the cows, had supper, paregoricked the men, established the watch, and went fhis gl to bed—with orders to call me as soon as we came in sight of Zermatt. speaky— that I awoke about half-past ten next morning and looked around. ntil At first I could not understand it : il We hadn’t budged a peg! then it occurred to me that the old thing must be aground. So think I cut down some trees and rigged a spar on the starboard and mile another on the port side, and fooled away upwards of three hours Youc trying to spar her off. But it was no use, she was half a mile wide and fifteen or twenty miles long, and there was no telling ina( just whereabouts she was aground. The men began to show ) uneasiness too, and presently they came flying to me with ashy al b faces, saying she had sprung a leak. (4 Nothing but my cool behaviour at this critical time saved us {hi from another panic. I ordered them to show me the place. Jol They led me to a spot where a huge boulder lay in a deep pool gei b of clear and brilliant water. It did look like a pretty bad leak, diffe but I kept that to myself. I made a pump and set the men to I work to pump out the glacier. We made a success of it. e perceived then that it was not a leak at all. This boulder had ‘ descended from a precipice and stopped on the ice in the middle breer of the glacier, and the sun had warmed it up every day, and Iy A TRAMP ABROAD. 237 Amfl‘er Wfli hoem consequently it had melted its way deeper and deeper into the le Icader hfl! ice, until it-Tast it reposed, as we had found it, in a deep pool of the clearest and coldest water D’\L Wag e Lpr Presently Baedeker was found again, and I hunted eagerly by for the time-tab There was none ) dt‘) ”UE The book simply said the i ‘Omwuu glacier was moving all the time This was satisfactory, so I shut up the book and chose a good position to view the scenery as we h & W‘W I passed along. I stood there some time enjoying the trip, but at last it occurred to me that we did not seem to be gaining any on 1§ n'hl& il ]'\]z” of {he the scenery. I said to myself, ¢ This confounded old thing’s aground again, sure’—and opened Baedeker to see if I could [t 1 un across any remedy for these annoying interruptions. I soon found a sentence which threw a dazzling light upon the matter. ohf It said, ¢ The Gorner Glacier travels at an average rate of a little less than an inch a day I have seldom felt so outraged. I | 10f I made at have seldom had my confidence so wantonly betrayed a small calculation 1 inch a day, say 30 feet a year; estimated distance to Zermatt. o [>} 1-18 miles W Time required to go by glacier, a little over five hundred years ! I said to myself, ‘I can (06 onr dl tion, % walk it quicker, and before I will patronise such a fraud as this, I will do it. £ 0 JT When I revealed to Harris the fact that the passenger-part of this glacier—the central part—the lightning-express part, so to 1n §le i [ speak—was not due in Zermatt till the summer of 2,378, and that the baggage, coming along the slow edge, would not arrive (110 until scme generations later, he burst out with— ¢ That is European management all over ! An inch a day— think of that! Five hundred years to go a trifle over three miles ! But I am not a bit surprised It’s a Catholic glacier. il IR You can tell by the look of it And the management !’ i dil & I said no, I believed nothing but the extreme end of it was 8 00 (8 in a Catholic canton 7S al ¢ Well, then, i’'s a Government glacier,’ said Harris. o Wb all the same Over here the Government runs everything—so everything’s slow ; slow and ill-managed. But with us, every- o sired thing’s done by private enterprise, and then there ain’t much I wish Tom Scott could the pmw lolling around, you can depend on if get his hands on this torpid old slab once—you’d see it take a deep pf” bud ]u.\y e different gait from this jo men ¥ I said I was sure he would increase the speed, if there was of 1 trade enough to justify it der bl ‘He’d make trade,” said Harris ¢ That’s the difference be- tween Governments and individuals, Governments don’t care, o mild individuals do. Tom Scott would take all the trade; in two dfl) Al 238 A TRAMP ABROAD. s fa lah hO years Gorner stock would go to 200, and inside of two more yon gl p 0 would see all the other glaciers under the hammer for taxes.’ e al s After a reflective pause, Harris added, ¢ A little less than an inch s 1 (0 a day; a little less than an inch, mind you. Well, T am losing - my reverence for glaciers.’, W ol I was feeling much the same way myself. I have travelled by canal boat, ox-wagon, raft, and by the Ephesus and Smyrna railway, but when it comes down to good solid honest slow motion, I bet my money on the glacier. As a means of pas- S |, N senger transportation I consider the glacier a failure; but as a In the matter vehicle for slow freight, I think she fills the bill. I A fl(]t £ of putting the fine shades on that line of business, I judge she T took S could teach the Germans something. T qm 4 I ordered the men to break camp and prepare for the land it 57 journey to Zermatt. At this moment a most interesting find was made; a dark object, bedded in the glacial ice, was cut out 4 day, il other A with the ice-axes, and it proved to be a piece of the undressed Qe vt skin of some animal—a hair trunk, perhaps; but a close inspec- ond the f tion disabled the hair trunk theory, and further discussion and Wha examination exploded it entirely—that is, in the opinion of all piver Wl the scientists except the one who had advanced it. This one mountal clung to his theory with the affectionate fidelity characteristic of sometin originators of scientific theories, and afterwards won many of the 00 feet firs scientists of the age to his view, by a very able pamphlet 50 feet which he wrote, entitled, ¢ Evidences going to show that the hair an e trunk, in a wild state, belonged to the early glacial period, and The roamed the wastes of chaos in company with the cave bear, prim- swales eval man, and the other Oolitics of the Old Silurian family.’ Lach of our scientists had a theory of his own, and put for- fossing ward an animal of his own as a candidate for the skin. I sided Instant a flawle with the geologist of the Expedition in the belief that this patch of skin had once helped to cover a Siberian elephant in some old TAITON, A i8¢ forgotten age—but we divided there, the geologist believing that Men b this discovery proved that Siberia had formerly been located did o where Switzerland is now, whereas I held the opinion that it merely proved that the primeval Swiss was not the dull savage (uickl he is represented to have been, but was a being of high intellec- eracks 0t tual development, who liked to go to the menagerie. We arrived that evening, after many hardships and adven- appear tures, in some fields close to the great ice-arch where the mad ‘ ad g 1nstang Visp boils and surges out from under the foot of the great Gorner Glacier, and here we camped, our perils over, and our In magnificent undertaking successfully completed. We marched Wil into Zermatt the next day, and were received with the most oy 1 A TRAMP ABROAD. 239 Wo Tory Jou lavish honours and applause. A document, signed and scaled Il T fop mm.] by all the authorities, was given to me which established and | i an ifi Eh endorsed the fact that I had made the ascent of the Riffelberg. 14 Icsir.:g This I wear around my neck, and it will be buried with me when I am no more, v tm"EEEfl " find Sfll g 00egt S‘w 20 f s fe»BUtH CHAPTER XL, n fh B Maftey I L judge g 1 AM not so ignorant about glacial movement now as I was when I took passage on the Gorner Glacier. I have ‘read up’ since. fr thy g I am aware that these vast bodies of ice do not travel at the same f rate of speed: whilst the Gorner Glacier makes less than an inch W a day, the Unter-Aar Glacier makes as much as eight; and still 0‘»1'! other glaciers are said to go 12, 16, and even 20 inches a day. One writer says that the slowest glacier travels 25 feet a year, al and the fastest 400. pibion of I What is a glacier? It is easy to say it looks like a frozen f, Thi river which occupies the bed of a winding gorge or gully between mountains, But that gives no notion of its vastness, for it is any sometimes 600 feet thick, and we are not accustomed to rivers I 600 feet deep; no, our rivers are 6 feet, 20 feet, and sometimes & pa) 50 feet deep; we are not quite able to grasp so large a fact as that the b an ice-river 600 feet deep. | perfiicd, i The glacier’s surface is not smooth and level, but has deep I, I swales and swelling elevations, and sometimes has the look of a tossing sea whose turbulent billows were frozen hard in the and ut o instant of their most violent motion; the glacier’s surface is not i it h a flawless mass, but is a river with cracks or crevasses, some narrow, some gaping wide. Many a man, the victim of a slip or 1 0l a mis-step, has plunged down one of these and met his death. Men have been fished out of them alive, but it was when they een ol did not go to a great depth; the cold of the great depths would yion {hat These ; {[ quickly stupefy a man, whether he was hurt or unhurt. du cracks do not go straight down; one can seldom see more than oh o (74 20 to 40 feet down them; consequently men who have dis- appeared in them have been sought for, in the hope that they pd adir had stopped within helping distance, whereas their case, in most the DA i instances, had really been hopeless from the beginning. the gl’ffl! In 1864 a party of tourists was descending Mont Blane, and and while picking- their way over one of the mighty glaciers of that pardhé lofty region, roped together, as was proper, a young porter dis- fhe 1% 240 A TRAMP ABROAD. i e gt i engaged himself from the line, and started across an ice-bridge il ey s which spanned a crevasse. It broke under him with a crash and 206 he disappeared. The others could not see how deep he had doves &, il mens P gone, so it might be worth while to try and rescue him. A brave young guide named Michel Payot volunteered. { T Two ropes were made fast to his leather belt, and he bore {he 10 gt iED the end of the third one in his hand to tie to the victim in case he found him. He was lowered into the crevasse, he descended piles 0% & | e Fundr?d deeper and deeper between the clear blue walls of solid ice, he approached a bend in the crack and disappeared under it. ferminal 1 gltiers o Down, and still down, he went into this profound grave; when he had reached a depth of 80 feet he passed under another bend Atthe mou! in the crack, and thence descended 80 feet lower, as between 1 Jacier TSt perpendicular precipices. Arrived at this stage of 160 feet af ot JATS, below the surface of the glacier, he peered through the twilight Tt 18 0ot fhat, Tfo dimness and perceived that the chasm took another turn and stretched away at a steep slant to unknown deeps, for its course oblong bl was lost in darkness. and 2000 What a place that was to be in—espe- cially if that leather belt should break ! The compression of York und the belt threatened to suffocate the intrepid fellow; he called to elatively of a Sara his friends to draw him up, but could not make them hear. They still lowered him deeper and deeper. Then he jerked his *The assure U third cord as vigorously as he could; his friends understood, and dragged him out of those icy jaws of death. prodigion Then they attached a bottle to a cord and sent it down 200 from whi feet, but it found no bottom. It came up covered with con- assume gelations—evidence enough that even if the poor porter reached their jou the bottom with unbroken bones, a swift death from cold was Inall pr sure anyway. Glaci A glacier is a stupendous, ever progressing, resistless plough. stal:pac It pushes ahead of it masses of boulders which are packed Whympe together, and they stretch across the gorge, right in front of it, 17— This is called a moraine. like a long grave or a long, sharp roof. Tt It also shoves out a moraine along each side of its course. Kotlug Imposing as the modern glaciers are, they are not so huge the gh as were some that once existed. For instance, Mr. Whymper or from Says i— —— forethe ¢ At some very remote period the valley or Aosta was occu- OVer eyg pied by a vast glacier, which flowed down its entire length from thus by Mont Blanc to the plain of Piedmont, remained stationary, or 8ace of nearly so, at its mouth for many centuries, and deposited there tovere] enormous masses of débris. The length of this glacier exceeded 8gtonng eighty mules, and it drained a basin twenty-five to thirty-five miles across, bounded by the highest mountains in the Alps. Upon 4 4 Mmy, a 4 TRAMP ABROAD, 241 Wleey & 13 Ql‘a\h aq The great peaks rose several thousand feet above the glaciers, and then, as now, shattered by sun and frost, poured down their i dEep he by showers of rocks and stones, in witness of which there are the £0g h]m e, immense piles of angular fragments that constitute the moraines - of Ivria. 1 ang he L) Wity ¢ The moraines around Ivria are of extraordinary dimensions. & he That which was on the left bank of the glacier is about thirteen vy of gl 1 b miles long, and in some places rises to a height of two thousand el one hundred and thirty feet above the floor of the valley | The terminal moraines (those which are pushed in front of the d v Waey ity g glaciers) cover something like twenty square miles of country. At the mouth of the Valley of the Aosta the thickness of the e, 3 bety e of 16) glacier must have been at least two thousand feet, and its width at that part five miles and a quarter. oh the i It is not easy to get at a comprehension of a mass of ice like other fumy infl} that. If one could cleave off the butt end of such a glacier—an 3 (0 oblong block two or three miles wide by five and a quarter long 0] (1) and 2,000 feet thick—he could completely hide the city of New York under it, and Trinity steeple would only stick up into it 73 b el i) 11\:9 I e he relatively as far as a shingle nail would stick up into the bottom of a Saratoga trunk. ¢ The boulders from Mont Blanc, upon the plain below Ivria 1'1‘.9 je‘rkei assure us that the glacier which transported them existed for a prodigious length of time. Their present distance from the cliffs it o ] from which they were derived is about 420,000 feet, and if we vered assume that they travelled at the rate of 400 feet per annum, their journey must have occupied them no less than 1,055 years ! from In all probability they did not travel so fast.’ Glaciers are sometimes hurried out of their characteristic snail<pace. A marvellous spectacle is presented then. Mr. Whymper refers to a case which occurred in Iceland in 1721 :— I 4 0T ‘It seems that in the neighbourhood of the mountain Ol Kotlugja, large bodies of water formed underneath, or within 106 0 the glaciers (either on account of the interior heat of the earth I YD o = = or from other causes), and at length acquired irresistible power, tore the glaciers from their mooring on the land, and swept them oSt f] over every obstacle into the sea. Prodigious masses of ice were thus borne for a distance of about ten miles over land in the [0 o lengt sla " space of a few hours; and their bulk was so enormous, that they covered the sea for seven miles from the shore, and remained Jor 6567 i aground in 600 feet of water ! The denudation of the land wus upon a grand scale. All superficial accumulations were swept o A" fhirf i the 5P away, and the bed-rock was exposed. It was described, in R 212 A TRAMP ABROAD. & Ti\u graphié language, how all irregularities and depressions were obliterated, and a smooth surface of several miles area laid bare, s gt .o and that this area had the appearance of having been planed by a plane. { ‘L\I()“t he The account translated from the Icelandic says that the dispu el {l I mountain-like ruing of this majestic glacier so covered the sea it st V2 that as far as the eye could reach no open water was discover- o the g able, even from the highest peaks. A monster wall or barrier utte1ed i of ice was built across a considerable stretch of land, too, by this at the foot strange irruption :— i o Al ¢ One can form some idea of the altitude of this barrier of ice when it is mentioned that from Hofdabrekka farm, which lies e high up on a fjeld, one could not see Hjorleifshofdi opposite, \ias 1] ou which is a fell 640 feet in height ; but in order to do so had to fhe lft clamber up a mountain slope east of Hofdabrekka 1,200 feet in the val | high.’ The These things will help the reader to understand why it is cars that a man who keeps company .with glacicrs comes to feel of the gl tolerably insignificant by and by. The Alps and the glaciers I find together are able to take every bit of conceit out of a man and Mont Bl reduce his self-importance to zero if he will only remain within fullows: the intluence of their sublime presence long enough to give it a ‘On fair and reasonable chance to do its work. i, 8 The Alpine glaciers move—that is granted now by every- and beat body. But there was a time when people scoffed at the idea; asck they said you might as well expect leagues of solid rock to crawl the o along the ground as expect solid leagues of ice to do it. But jectured proof after proof was furnished, and finally the world had to strophe believe. the loc The wise men not only said the glacier moved, but they timed its movement. s supposi They ciphered out a glacier’s gait, and table, a then said confidently that it would travel just so far in so many o ‘B years. There is record of a striking and curious example of the blonde accuracy which may be attained in these reckonings. fore-an In 1820 the ascent of Mont Blanc was attéempted by a Russian Was wh and two Englishmen, with seven guides. They had reached a prodigious altitude, and were approaching the summit, when an degree \ avalanche swept several of the party down a sharp slope of two T} of the hundred feet and hurled five of them (all guides) into one of the crevasses of a glacier. The life of one of the five was saved ears ‘Al‘ by a long barometer which was strapped to his back—it bridged hob-p the crevasse and suspended him until help came. The alpen- stock or baton of another saved its owner in a similar way. lack f It )4 Three men were lost—Pierre Balmat, Pierre Carrier, and tat e A TRAMP ABROAD. 243 Nl Ter iy b Auguste Tairraz. They had been hurled down into the fathom- 1 N(WI] /] less great deeps of the crevasse. Dr. Forbes, the English geologist, had made frequent visits fu f to the Mont Blanc region, and had given much attention to the e disputed question of the movement of glaciers. During one of Tag these visits he completed his estimates of the rate of movement I [ of the glacier which had swallowed up the three guides, and oo, by uttered the prediction that the glacier would deliver up its dead at the foot of the mountain thirty-five years from the time of ha altler i the accident, or possibly forty. l, A dull, slow journey—a movement imperceptible to any eye —Dbut it was proceeding, nevertheless, and without cessation. It 00 g was a journey which a rolling stone would make in a few seconds a | —the lofty point of departure was visible from the village below in the valley. The prediction cut curiously close to the truth; forty-one years after the catastrophe the remains were cast forth at the foot o o of the glacier. I & i I find an interesting account of the matter in the ¢ Histoire du Mont Blanc,” by Stephen d’Arve. I will condense this account as eman W follows : — i 00 ¢On the 12th of August, 1861, at the hour of the close of mass, a guide arrived out of breath at the mairie of Chamonix, O b It was o th and bearing on his shoulders a very lugubrious burden. a sack filled with human remains which he had gathered from 100 the orifice of a crevasse in the Glacier des Bossons. He con- ) 10 jectured that these were remains of the victims of the cata- or strophe of 1820, and a minute inquest, immediately instituted by the local authorities, soon demonstrated the correctness of his el supposition. The contents of the sack were spread upon a long m table, and officially inventoried as follows :— ¢Portions of three human skulls. Several tufts of black and panp? blonde hair. A human jaw, furnished with fine white teeth. A fore-arm and hand, all the fingers of the latter intact. The flesh by was white and fresh, and both the arm and hand preserved a fld peached degree of flexibility in the articulations. g, WL ‘The ring finger had suffered a slight abrasion, and the stain lope ¢ fm » of the blood was still visible and unchanged after forty-one i & years. A left foot, the flesh white and fresh. oS | ¢ Along with these fragments were portions of waistcoats, hats, . i gt hob-nailed shoes, and other clothing H a wing of a pigeon, with black feathers; a fragment of an alpenstock ; a tin lantern; and Ted® ¢~ il ¥ lastly, a boiled leg of mutton, the only flesh among all the remains it [ that exhaled an unpleasant odour. The guide said that the mutton B2 244 A TRAMP ABROAD. e fh had no odour when he took it from the glacier ; an hour’s expo- y supy olted sure to the sun had already begun the work of decomposition Qo 100 upon it. Nope ¢Persons were called for to identify these poor pathetic relics, enb oAl and a touching scene ensued. Two men were still living who L had witnessed the grim catastrophe of nearly balf a century it g before—Marie Couttet (saved by his baton) and Julien Davouas- wer soux (saved by the barometer). These aged men entered and approached the table. Davouassoux, more than 80 years old, plood 88 (ne contemplated the mournful remains mutely and with a vacant no 11 eye, for his intelligence and his memory were torpid with age; e I £ Olle but Couttet’s faculties were still perfect at 72, and he exhibited bl ; He said— o, B0 strong emotion. ¢ ¢ Pierre Balmat was fair ; he wore a straw hat. This bit of gt The skull, with the tuft of blonde hair, was his; this is his hat. being Pierre Carrier was very dark; this skull was his, and this felt hat. This is Balmat’s hand, I remember it so well ! ”” and the the tl pird 7 old man bent down and kissed it reverently, then closed his aocoun fingers upon it in an affectionate grasp, crying ous, “ I could never have dared to believe that before quitting this world it Dr made would be granted me to press once more the hand of one of those brave comrades, the hand of my good friend Balmat.” (hame and as ¢There is something weirdly pathetic about the picture of and o that white-haired veteran greeting with his loving hand-shake this friend who had been dead forty years. When these hands arpha O had met last, they were alike in the softness and freshness of 3 Cha youth; now, one was brown, and wrinkled and horny with age, while the other was still as young, and fair, and blemishless as if men- a1l those forty years had come and gone in a single moment, leaving no mark of their passage. Time had gone on in the one case ; it { had stood still in the other. A man who has not seen a friend Dalm for a generation keeps him in mind always as he saw him last, and is somehow surprised, and is also shocked, to see the ageing Marie ! change the years have wrought when he sees him again. Couttet’s experience, in finding his friend’s hand unaltered from the image of it which he had carried in his memory for forty years, is an experience which stands alone in the history of man perhaps. fhe ¢ Couttet identified other relics ¢ unfo ¢¢ This hat belonged to Auguste Tairraz. He carried the cage of pigeons which we proposed to set free upon the summit. And here is the fhin Here is the wing of one of those pigeons. g fragment of my broken baton ; it was by grace of that baton that my life was saved. Who could have told e that I should one R A TRAMP ABROAD. 24 oy gy day have the satisfaction to look again upon this bit of wood that 100mpogit n cemse——— supported me above the grave that swallowed up my unfortunate 3 companions !’’’ flllEt'}g N Iy No portions of the body of Tairraz had been found. A dili- g iy gent search was made, but without result. However, another : A ety search was instituted a year later, and this had better success. 160 Davop Many fragments of clothing which had belonged to the lost guides V) v ~ were discovered; also part of a lantern, and a green veil, with a8 blood stains on it. But the interesting feature was this: an One of the searchers came suddenly upon a sleeved arm pro- I} jecting from a crevice in the ice-wall, with the hand outstretche d e exty ¢ The nails of this white hand were still as if offering greeting ! rosy, and the pose of the extended fingers seem to express an T'V. eloquent welcome to the long lost light of day.’ A fter The hand and arm were alone; there was no trunk. being removed from the ice the flesh tints quickly faded out and the rosy nails took on the alabaster hue of death. This was the third right hand found ; therefore all three of the lost men were accounted for beyond cavil or question. 13 Worl Dr. Hamel was the Russian gentleman of the party which U0y made the ascent at the time of the famous disaster. He left Chamonix as soon as he conveniently could after the descent ; ¢ » and as he had shown a chilly indifference about the calamity, hand and offered neither sympathy nor assistance to the widows and ? o orphans, he carried with him the cordial execrations of the whole Four months before the first remains were found, I community. a Chamonix guide named Balmat—a relative of one of the lost men—was in London, and one day encountered a hale old gentle- man in the British Museum, who said,— ¢ I overheard your name. Are you from Chamonix, Monsicur g o DBalmat?’ s [y ¢ Haven’t they found the bodies of my three guides yet? I am Dr. Hamel. ¢ Alas, no, monsieur.’ ¢ Well, yowll find them sooner or later.’ ¢ Yes, it is the opinion of Dr. Forbes and Mr. Tyndal that the glacier will sooner or later restore to us the remains of the unfortunate victims.’ the ¢ Without a doubt, without a doubt. And it will be a great 6 ;, thing for Chamonix, in the matter of attracting tourists. You { can get up a museum with those remains that will draw !’ here B 1o This savage idea has not improved the odour of Dr. Hamel’s j ot name in Chamonix by any means. But, after all, the man was [eholfld ot 246 A TRAMP ABRQOAD. sound on human nature. His idea was conveyed to the public (uibe bt A officials of Chamonix, and they gravely discussed it around the offi- ¥e cial council table. They were only prevented from carrying it into ok execution by the determined opposition of the friends and g0 e Joskizg ! descendants of the lost guides, who insisted on giving the remains Christian burial, and succeeded in their purpose. Hudson 2 A close watch had to be kept upon all the poor remnants s lnke Ve and fragments, to prevent embezzlement. A few accessory odds and ends were sold. Rags and scraps of the coarse clothing el \\'flldél‘i ! were parted with at a rate equal to about twenty dollars a yard ; a piece of a lantern and one or two other trifles brought nearly b Wi their weight in gold; and an Englishman offered a pound sterling ot lt yigne for for a single breeches-button. yere 0L proughb gfruetion right or CHAPTER XLI. 10 0602 . sometim ONE of the most memorable of all the Alpine catastrophes was fegt, that of July 1865, on the Matterhorn—already slightly referred without to a few pages back. The details of it are scarcely known in a beigh America. To the vast majority of readers they are not known We at all. Mr. Whymper’s account is the only authentic one. I the R will import the chief portion of it into this book, partly because 10 long of its intrinsic interest, and partly because it gives such a vivid astend This was idea of what the perilous pastime of Alp-climbing is. over 1« Mr. Whymper's ninth attempt during a series of years to van- and e quish that steep and stubborn pillar of rock ; it succeeded, the the ge other eight were failures. No man had ever accomplished the aceumi ascent before, though the attempts had been numerous. Jeaving These MR. WHYMPER'S NARRATIVE. lacey a\\'ay | We started from Zermatt on July 13, at half-past five, on a diref brilliant and perfectly cloudless morning. We were eight in to the number: Croz (guide), old Peter Taugwalder (guide), and his Tound. two sons; Lord F. Douglas, Mr. Hadow, Rev. Mr. Hudson, and The a I To ensure steady motion, one tourist and one native walked bt 9) The together. The youngest Taugwalder fell to my share. Th wine-bags also fell to my lot to carry, and throughout the day Theg after each drink I replenished them secretly with water, so that This was T daghi at the next halt they were found fuller than before ! e, considered a good omen, and little short of miraculous, 0m A TRAMP ABROAD. 247 Olhe publie e On the first day we did not intend to ascend to any great height, and we mounted accordingly very leisurely. = Before 12 Mgy o’clock we had found a good position for the tent at a height of Tiends a Wsteyy, 11,000 feet. We passed the remaining hours of daylight—some basking in the sunshine, some skectching, some collecting; Hudson made tea, I coffee, and at length we retired, each one to 0 Yy his blanket-bag. esory ol We assembled together before dawn on the 14th and started % (ofipy s gy, | e directly it was light enough to move. One of the young Taug- walders returned to Zermatt. In a few minutes we_turned the QT rib which had intercepted the view of the eastern face from our ound ey tent platform. The whole of this great slope was now revealed, rising for 8,000 feet like a huge natural staircase. Some parts were more, and others were less easy, but we were not once brought to a halt by any serious impediment, for when an ob- struction was met in front it could always be turned to the For the greater part of the way there was right or to the left. - no occasion, indeed, for the rope, and sometimes Hudson led, sometimes myself. At 6.20 we had attained a height of 12,800 stophes v htly el feet, and halted for half an hour; we then continued the ascent without a break until 9.55, when we stopped for fifty minutes, at ly knom a height of 14,000 feet. 16 10f knom entio ot | We had now arrived at the foot of that part which, seen from the Riffelberg, seems perpendicular or overhanging. We could arly beest no longer continue on the eastern side. For a little distance we gucha vl ascended by snow upon the aréte—that is, the ridge—then turned i, Thisms over to the right, or northern side. The work became difficult, jears o van and required caution. In some places there was little to hold ; oeeedel 0 the general slope of the mountain was less than 40°, and snow had accumulated in, and had filled up, the interstices of the rock-face, ?mplished th 0US leaving only occasional fragments projecting here and there These were at times covered with a thin film of ice. It was a place which any fair mountaineer might pass in safety. We bore away nearly horizontally for about 400 feet, then ascended st fre m dircctly towards the summit for about 60 feet, then doubled back to the ridge which descends towards Zermatt. A long stride (o1 eig}]t I de) round a rather awkward corner brought us to snow once more. The last doubt vanished ! The Matterhorn was ours ! Nothing Judson, @ five T buat 200 feet of easy snow remained to be surmounted. 8 e, 1 The higher we rose, the more intense became the excitement. The slope eased off, at length we could be detached, and Croz and ot {ho iy afery ) I, dashing away, ran a neck-and-neck race, which ended in a dead heat. At 1.40 par. the world was at our feet, and the Matter- | This horn was conquered. 5 248 A TRAMP ABROAD. The others arrived. Croz now took the tent-pole and planted Hadov g l g it in the highest snow. ¢Yes, we said, ‘ there is the flag-staff, but where is the flag ?’ ¢ Here it is,” he answered, pulling off his furos] o blouse and fixing it to the stick. Fil it It made a poor flag, and there pidden X was no wind to float it out, yet it was seen all around. They efiefl saw it at Zermatt—at the Riffel—in the Val Tournanche. oy b * * * * * * * paing & dovn a8t We remained on the summit for one hour— One crowded hour of glorious life. gl gl exclfimfi“‘ descent. It passed away too quickly, and we began to prepare for the down\var{ Hudson and I consulted as to the best and safest arrangement steps, 0 york o of the party. We agreed that it was best for Croz to go first, and Hadow second ; Hudson, who was almost equal to a guide in old Pete sureness of foot, wished to be third; Lord Douglas was placed permit'- Dothase next, and old Peter, the strongest of the remainder, after him. I suggested to Hudson that we should attach a rope to the rockson Tfiug\\'fl Qw ou our arrival at the difficult bit, and hold it as we descended, as an additional protection. He approved the idea, but it was not ;‘\ backs, definitely decided that it should be done. The party was being gelves. arranged in the above order whilst I was sketching the summit, by one and they had finished and were waiting for me to be tied in line, gler when some one remembered that our names had not been left in < the mo a bottle. They requested me to write them down, and moved perishg off while it was being done. To A few minutes afterwards I tied myself to young Peter, ran down after the others, and caught them just as they were com- 1Ol mencing the descent of the difficult part. Great care was being ufterl taken. but ¥ Only one man was moving at a time; when he was firmly planted the next advanced, and so on. They had not, from ¢ however, attached the additional rope to rocks, and nothing was which said about it. The suggestion was not made for my own sake, in ad and I am not sure that it even occurred to me again. For some time ¢ the m little distance we two followed the others, detached from them, and should have continued so had not Lord Douglas asked me, tume about 3 P.., to tie on to old Peter, as he feared, he said, that emph occurred. Taugwalder would not be able to hold his ground if a slip A towar A few minutes later a sharp-eyed lad ran into the Monte but = 1 Rosa Hotel at Zermatt, saying that he had seen an avalanche fall over from the summit of the Matterhorn on to the Matterhorn glacier. ¥inge] The boy was reproved for tellin g idle stories; he was right, —— e ceg nevertheless, and this was what he saw, Michel Croz had laid aside his axe, and in order to give Mr. filen I Were i A TRAMP ABROAD 249 ang Pantey Iadow greater security was absolutely taking hold of his legs, B 1l faff As Al and putting his feet, one by one, into their proper positions far as I know, no one was actually descending I cannot speak )8 gy f with certainty, because the two leading men were partially g 1) lche, hidden from my sight by an intervening mass of rock, but it 1s my belief, from the movements of their shoulders, that Croz, having done as I have said, was in the act of turning round to go down a step or two himself; at this moment Mr. Hadow slipped fell against him, and knocked him over I heard one startled DTS fpfy exclamation from Croz, then saw him and Mr. Hadow flying downwards; in another moment Hudson was dragged from his ATangemen All this was the 0g0 steps, and Lerd Douglas immediately after him. iy aug work of a moment Immediately we heard Croz’s exclamation, hag 0g 1 old Peter and I planted ourselves as firmly as the rocks would 8 Wig p { permit : the rope was taut between us, and the jerk came on us aft tr b, | erv both as on oneman. We held; but the rope broke midway between Taugwalder and Lord I'lanc1s Douglas. For a few seconds we seend saw our unfortunate companions shdmg downwards on their Ii | i 2 backs, and spreading out their hands, endeavouring to save them- 1Y s Deng selves. They passed from our sight uninjured, disappeared one 6 8l by one, and fell from precipice to precipice on to the Matterhorn e tl glacier below, a distance of nearly 4,000 feet in height. From |1 been the moment the rope broke it was impossible to help them. So 0, and moed perished our comrades ! * * * * * * Peter, ma For more than two hours afterwards I thought almost every ere (O moment that the next would be my last, for the Taugwalders, as assistance, utterly unnerved, were not only incapable of givin e Wi but were in such a state that a slip might have been expected il from them at any moment After a time we were able to do that | D0iaI which should have been done at first, and fixed rope to firm rocks, il (il I 88 in addition to being tied together These ropes were cut from i or st time to time, and were left behind. Even with their assurance cd fl‘ufll the men were afraid to proceed, and several times old Peter turned, with ashy face and faltering limbs, and said, with terrible e sul emphasis, ¢ [ cannot !’ About 6 p.M. we arrived at the snow upon the ridge descending nd 28 towards Zermatt, and all peril was over. We frequently looked (Ut e but in vain, for traces of our unfortunate companions; we bent 0 i fhe over the ridge and cried to them, but no sound returned. Con- et inced at last that they were neither within sight nor hearin ot ool we ceased from our useless efforts; and, too cast down for speech, ) 178 g™ silently gathered up our things, and the little effects of those who were lost, and then completed the descent, fogire l 250 A TEAMP ABROAD Such is Mr. Whymper's graphic and thrilling narrative, I fors {0 ) e Zermatt gossip darkly hints that the elder Taugwalder cut the s 4erope when the accident occurred in order to preserve himself el ) from being dragged into the abyss; but Mr. Whymper says that 1egloR i hat the ends of the rope showed no evidence of cutting but only of breaking. He adds that if Taugwalder had had the disposition olnce bt to cut the rope, he would not have had time to do it, the accident ffect th 10 (athe was so sudden and unexpected. < { Lord Douglas’s body has never been found. It probably yonder lodged upon some inaccessible shelf in the face of the mighty Spain The three other This precipice. Lord Douglas was a youth of 19. victims fell nearly 4,000 feet, and their bodies lay together upon Talasit the glacier when found by M Whymper and the other searchers determiD the next morning. Their graves are beside the little church in il Zermatt, —doom i o, Nic CHAPTER XLIL hetwee! dwelln SWITZERLAND is simply a large, humpy, solid rock, with a thin twelve skin of grass stretched over it. Consequently they do not dig imagit graves, they blast them out with powder and fuse.Z-They cannot on the afford to have large graveyards, the grass skin is too circum- commesp scribed and too valuable. It is all required for the support of In| the living. apes The graveyard in Zermatt occupies only about one-eighth of —md an acre. The graves are sunk in the living rock, and are very 8t Nic permanent; but occupation of them is only temporary; the plough occupant can only stay till his grave is needed by a later subject, patt of he is removed then, for they do not bury one body on top of ~ front ¢ another. As I understand it, a family owns a grave just as it owns a house. A man dies and leaves his house to his son, and absent: il VY Nikse hands at the same time this dead father succeeds to his own father’s farm | grave. He moves out of the house and into the grave, and his predecessor moves out of the grave and into the cellar of the he st atound chapel. I saw a black box lying in the churchyard, with skull anger and cross-bones painted on it, and was told that this was used in transferring remains to the cellar. log K10g In that cellar the bones and skulls of several hundreds of “ela\ Fro former citizens were compactly corded up. They made a pile 18 feet long, 7 feet high, and 8 feet wide. I wastold that in some 4 {oot, and yg of the receptacles of this kind in the Swiss villages the skulls were all marked, and if a man wishes to find the skulls of his (amg { aud ply A TRAMP ABROAD 251 o Bty ancestors for several generations back, he could do it by these MWW& ¥y h m\eu § ——— marks, preserved in the family records. An English gentleman who had lived some years in thisu ey s g But he b g i region said it was the cradle of compulsory education. said that the English idea that compulsory education would ‘ed Wiy reduce bastardy and intemperance was an error—it has not that 06 g0 i effect He said there was more seduction in Protestant than in the Catholic cantons, because the confessional protected the girls. i I'(bm, m I wonder why it doesn’t protect married women in France and of [fly ikt Spain? 6 tire by toge U8 I This gentleman said that among the poorer peasants in the Valais it was common for the brothers in a family to cast lots to Searcaeny determine which of them should have the coveted privilege of fl chugh marrying. Then the lucky one got married, and his brethren —doomed bachelors—heroically banded themselves together to vi help support the new family., We left Zermatt in a wagon—and in a rain storm, too—for St. Nicholas about ten o’clock one morning Again we passed between those grass-clad prodigious cliffs, specked with wee dwellings peeping over at us from velvety-green walls ten and A\whm do twelve hundred feet high It did not seem possible that the » imaginary chamois even could climb those precipices. Lovers The (ol 5 too s on the opposite cliffs probably kiss through a spy—fihss and i correspond with a rifle. the suppor In Switzerland the farmer’s plough is a Wlde shovel, which scrapes up and turns over the thin earthy skin of his native rock f ong-¢1% 1 —and there the man of the plough isa hero. Now here, by our m all d are e St. Nicholas road, was a grave, and it had a tragic story. A oraly ploughman was sklnmn(r hxs farm one momnm—not the steepest a Iy part of it, but still a steep part—that is, he was not skinning the ofi (U front of his farm, but the roof of it, near the eaves—when he Fare Jus & 2 absent-mindedly let go of the plough-handles to moisten his 0 0 i hands in the usual way he lost his balance and fell out of his § oW fatoers farm backwards Poor fellow, he never touched anything till il he struck bottom 1,500 feet below. We throw a halo of heroism nr[n (] ) (el Jlar around the life of the soldier and the sailor, because of the deadly But we are not used to rd, il dangers they are facing all the time I Vl:dd looking upon farming as an heroic occupation This is because we have not lived in Switzerland fi o From St. Nicholas we struck out for Visp—or Vispach—on ot 8 i foot The rain storms had been at work during several days, P! We it ha“flfl)fllv and had done a deal of damage in Switzerland and Savoy. i e il came to one place where a stream had changed its course and plunged down the mountain in a new place, sweeping J\UJIH o Illi 252 A TRAMP ABROAD. 3 “‘ould f everything before it. Two poor but precious farms by the sulffice' o roadside were ruined. One was washed clear away, and the Jpist bed-rock exposed ; the other was buried out of sight under a tumbled chaos of rocks, gravel, mud, and rubbish. The resist- shad ffen less might of water was well exemplified. Some saplings which olg, who! had stood in the way were bent to the ground, stripped clean of i mel their bark,and buried under rocky débris. The road had been stopped 1 swept away too. In another place, where the road was high up on the moun-~ etopped pext D tain’s face, and its outside edge protected by flimsy masonry, we patle f frequently came across spots where this masonry had caved off fellow & and left dangerous gaps for mules to get over; and with still re more frequency we found the masonry slightly crumbled, and What c1 marked by mule hoofs, thus showing that there had been danger When at last we came to a badly Th of an accident to somebody. ruptured bit of masonry, with hoof-prints evidencing a desperate ae sl}itf Nex struggle to regain the lost foothold, I looked quite hopefully over door fo the dizzy precipice. But there was nobody down there. in A They take exceedingly good care of their rivers in Switzer- land and other portions of Europe. They wall up both banks of i ho down, with slanting solid stone masonry—so that from end to end of said, ‘] these rivers the banks look like the wharves at St. Louis and the sif other towns on the Mississippi River. Yet he It was during this walk from St. Nicholas, in the shadow ot the majestic Alps, that we came across some little children *Por amusing themselves in what seemed, at first, a most odd and o original way—but it wasn’t, it was simply a natural and charac- him; teristic way. They wereroped together with a string, they had This ¢ ATOUI mimic alpenstocks and ice-axes, and were climbing a meek and lowly manure pile with a most blood-curdling amount of care and inac that 1 caution. The guide’ at the head of the line cut imaginary steps Think in a laborious and painstaking way, and not a monkey budged i till the step above him was vacated. If we had waited we should W from § have witnessed an imaginary accident, no doubt ; and we should have heard the intrepid band hurrah when they made the half summit and looked around upon the ¢ magnificent view,” and seen that, 1t becg them throw themselves down in exhaustive attitudes for a restin that commanding situation. bermy In Nevada I used to see the children play at silver mining. neat gy Of course, the great thing was an accident in a mine, and there Joug were two ‘star’ parts: that of the man who fell down the mimic dangl : shaft, and that of the daring hero who was lowered into the 8 i depths to bring him up. I knew one small chap who always Vi“age insisted on playing both of these parts—and he carried his points | UI'Ope A TRAMP ABROAD. 253 il by fhy He would tumble into the shaft and die, and then come to the "“‘,Vu ang fhy surface and go back after his own remains. B wnder It is the smartest boy that gets the hero-part everywhere : he A6 ey, is head guide in Switzerland, head miner in Nevada, head bull- B v DL ey f fighter in Spain, &c., but I knew a preacher’s son, seven years old, who once selected a part for himself compared to which those oty just mentioned are tame and unimpressive. Jimmy’s father stopped him from driving imaginary horse-cars one Sunday— I ‘he o stopped him from playing captain of an imaginary steamboat asonyy. o)) next Sunday—stopped him from leading an imaginary army to 1 battle the following Sunday—and so on. Tinally the little fellow said— o l,and I i ‘I've tried everything, and they won’t any of them do. What can I play ?’ g aiifi‘. F ¢I hardly know, Jimmy; but you must play only things that are suitable to the Sabbath day.’ Next Sunday the preacher stepped softly to a back room door to see if the children were rightly employed. Ie peeped in. A chair occupied the middle of the room, and on the back 'PL ot of it hung Jimmy’s cap; one of the little sisters took the cap ei { down, nibbled at it, then passed it to another small sister and said, ¢ Bat of this fruit, for it is good.’ The Reverend took in the situation—alas, they were playing the Expulsion from Eden! Yet he found one little crumb of eomfort. the He said to himself, ‘For once Jimmy has yielded the chief 7dle—I have been wronging him, I did not believe there was so much modesty in rfll. andv him ; I should have expected him to be either Adam or Eve.’ This crumb of comfort lasted but a very little while ; he glanced 4 DK around and discovered Jimmy standing in an imposing attitude Ao in a corner, with a dark and deadly frown on his face. What that meant was very plain—he was personating the Deity ! K6 Think of the guileless'sublimity of that idea. 0l ted T We reached Vispach at 8 p.ar, only about seven hours out from St. Nicholas. So we must have made fully a mile and a and e i half an hour, and it was all down hill too, and very muddy at that,. We stayed all night at the Hotel du Soleil ; I remember ‘ \'iewv’ Jesfira®® i > it because the landlady, the portier, the waitress, and the cham- bermaid were not separate persons, but were all contained in one neat and chipper suit of spotless muslin, and she was the prettiest gllver She was the landlord’s pingy fln young creature I saw in all that region. Jpn daughter. And I remember that the only native match to her I o ! p saw in all Europe was the young daughter of the landlord of a el 1 fo I village inn in the Black Forest. Why don’t more people in py Europe marry and keep hotel ? 1ie Jisp A TRAMP ABROAD. 254 i i o fhe Next morning we left with a family of English friends and sw‘\fms went by train to Brevet, and thence by boat across the lake to paring 88 Ouchy (Lausanne). Tave heen Ouchy is memorable to me, not on account of its beautiful Nexty situation and lovely surroundings—although these would make Nant Bl it stick long in one’s memory—but as the place where I caught oot 1 the Londen ¢ Times’ dropping into humour. It was not aware It did not do it on purpose. An English friend and mule of it, though. of trve called my attention to this lapse, and cut out the reprehensible sntermil paragraph for me. Think of encountering a grin like this on the Plistering facg of that grim journal :— creeping ErraTUM.— We are requested by Reuter’s Telegram Company to 1, a8 correct an erroneous announcement made in their Brishane telegram ushe of the 2nd inst., published in our impression of the 5th inst., stating They & that ¢ Lady Kennedy had given birth to twins, the eldest being a son’ Tole The Company explain that the message they received contained the e words ¢ Governor of Queensland, ¢wins first son.’ Being, however, subsequently informed that Sir Arthur Kennedy was unmarried, and ground that there must be some mistalke, a telegraphic repetition was at once as fun demanded. It has been received to-day (11th inst.), and shows that ane 0o the words really telegraphed by Reuter'’s agent were, ¢Governor oD €xe! Queensland turns first sod,’ alluding to the Maryborough-Gympic wooded Railway in course of construction. The words in italics were muti- falls o lated by the telegraph in transmission from Australia, and reaching Aby the company in the form mentioned above gave rise to the mistalke, tiere a T had always had a deep and reverent compassion for the into Vi sufferings of the * prisoner of Chillon,” whose story Byron has mount: told in such moving verse; so I took the steamer and made Al pilgrimage to the dungeons.of the Castle of Chillon, to see the and hi place where poor Bonivard endured his dreary captivity 300 zenith years ago. I'am glad I did that, for it took away some of the o pain I was feeling on the prisoner’s account. His dungeon was like 1o 048 sl a nice, cool, roomy place, and I cannot see why he should have been so dissatisfied with it. If he had been imprisoned in a finm St. Nicholas private dwelling, where the fertilizer prevails, and t00 ste the goat sleeps with the guest, and the chickens roost on him, W and the cow comes in and bothers him when he wants to muse, desgent it would have been another matter altogether; but he surely bouring could not have had a very cheerless time of it in that pretty ing gl dungeon. It has romantic window-slits that let in generous bars Tesenh of light, and it has tall, noble columns, carved apparently from Peaaliy the living rock; and, what is more, they are written all over theJg with thousands of names, some of them—Ilike Byron’s and Victor £t dop, Hugo's—of the first celebrity, Why didn’t he amuse himself Yltaing } | A TRAMP ABROAD. 255 iy !ty 131{8 t reading these names? Then there are the couriers and tourists —swarms of them every day—what was to hinder him from having a good time with them? T think Bonivard’s sufferings 15 by have been overrated. oul Next, we took train and went to Martigny, on the way to ere | gy Mont Blane. 8 20t gy Next morning we started, about eight o’clock, on o] foot. We had plenty of company in the way of wagon-loads and mule-loads of tourists and dust. This scattering procession Tepishe of travellers was perhaps a mile long. The road was up-hill— e s o interminably up-hill—and tolerably steep. The weather was blistering hot, and the man or woman who had to sit on a creeping mule or in a crawling wagon, and broil in the beating (o iuka'ne elem sun, was an object to be pitied. We could dodge among the fhins, bushes, and have the relief of shade, but those people could not. lemg They paid for a conveyance, and to get their money’s worth they rode. Bein We went by the way of Téte Noir, and after we reached high it 100 WA ground there was no lack of fine scenery. In one place the road was tunnelled through a shoulder of the mountain ; from there and sh I one looked down into a gorge with a rushing torrent in it, and gk on every hand was a charming view of rocky butfresses and wooded heights. There was a liberal allowance of pretty water- MICS WEI p, and fallg, too, on the Téte Noir route. 01 e 1 About half an hour before we reached the village of Argen- tiere a vast dome of snow, with the sun blazing on it, drifted into view and framed itself in a strong V-shaped gateway of the mountaing, and we recognised Mont Blanc, the ¢ monarch of the mer A Il Alps. With every step after that this stately dome rose higher illon, fo and higher into the blue sky, and at last seemed to occupy the zenith. () ome 0f Some of Mont Blanc’s neighbours—bare, light-brown, steeple- like rocks—were very peculiarly shaped. Some were whittled houl \V | to a sharp point, and slightly bent at the upper end, like a lady’s dins upl‘l finger ; one monster sugar-loaf resembled a bishop’s hat: it was p rev too steep to hold snow on its sides, but had some in the division. o5t (0 While we were still on very high ground, and before the 100 ‘LL yants 0 g descent toward Argentiere began, we looked up toward a neigh- bu e Qe bouring mountain-top, and saw exquisite prismatic colours play- ing about some white clouds which were so delicate as to almost i {7 ener0lé s resemble gossamer webs. The faint pinks and greens were peculiarly beautiful ; none of the colours were deep, they were rend)’ o We nuz” e the lightest shades. They were bewitchingly commingled. i sat down to study and enjoy this singular spectacle. The tints ol T st i remained during several minutes—{litting, changing, melting A TRAMP ABROAD. into each other; paling almost away for a moment, then reflush- for: o n,nf . 1 ng—a shifting, restless, unstable succession of soft opaline gleams, profhe V8 shimmering over that airy film of white cloud, and turning it () Obcef\'e o fl p e into a fabric dainty enough to clothe an angel with. ne & (% e By and by we perceived what those super-delicate colours, il ocession © and their continuous play and movement, reminded us of: it is what one sees in a soap-bubble that is drifting along, catching el s changes of tint from the object it passes. A soap-bubble is the {han & si\()fl most beautiful thing, and the most exquisite, in natire? that lovely phantom fabric in the sky was suggestive of a soap-bubble It e split open and spread out in the sun. I wonder how much it would take to buy a soap-bubble if there was only one in the world ? One could buy a hatfull of Koh-i-Noors with the same money, no doubt. We made the tramp from Martigny to Argentiere in eight Fveroot § hours. We beat all the mules and wagons; we didn’t usually stregh of th do that. We hired a sort of open baggage-wagon for the sfreet; 6\'8'? trip down the valley to Chamonix, and then devoted an hour to expecmm, 1 dining. This gave the driver time to get drunk. He had a friend with him, and this friend also had had time to get drunk. was dilige amiving fo When we drove off, the driver said all the tourists had arrived and gone by while we were at dinner; ¢ but,’ said he, ways, in o of folk they impressively, ¢ be not disturbed by that—remain tranquil—give we had sea yourselves no uneasiness—their dust rises far before us, you The hot shall sce it fade and disappear far behind us. Rest you tranquil, was lond an leave all to me—I am the king of drivers. Behold !’ Down came his whip, and away we clattered. I never had dark now, | large encls such a shaking up in my life. The recent flooding rains had washed the road clear away in places, but we never stopped, groups of v themselyes we never slowed down, for anything. We tore right along, over rocks, rubbish, gullies, open fields—sometimes with one or two in the yard Every now evening st wheels on the ground, but generally with none. tourists, and then that calm, good-natured madman would bend a majestic look over his shoulder at us and say, ¢ Ah, you perceive? Itis as ing bulk of Never ¢ I have said—I am the king of drivers. Every time we just missed going to destruction he would say, with tranquil happi- ne’s ey slendep ness, ‘Enjoy it, gentlemen, it is very rare, it is very unusual— it is given to few to ride with the king of drivers—and observe OTer onely | it is as I have said, 7 am he. skl His T0Untgpg He spoke in French, and punctuated with hiccups. friend was French too, but spoke in German—using the same Stmngey HC] The friend called himself the system of punctuation, however. 1oy 0m, <Captain of Mont Blanc,’ and wanted us to make the ascent with ard While Tdigngg s him. He said he had made more ascents than any other man— I}’ Eoff' al A TRAMP ABROAD. they g His g Sl forcy-seven—and his brother had made thirty-seven. brother was the best guide in the world, except himself—but he, g es, observe him well—he was the ¢Captain of Mont Blanc’'— that title belonged to none other. (afy QO‘IOW.I'IT, | I i The ‘king’ was as good as his word—he overtook that long alono. procession of tourists and went by it like a hurricane, The result was that we got choicer rooms at the hotel in Chamonix 1 than we should have done if his majesty had been a slower artist —or, rather, if he hadn’t most providentially got drunk before he 0 b e bow gy ' left Argentiere. 1 e 0Ig In 3 Wl CIIAPTER XLIII. 1 Everyeopy was out of doors; everybody was in the principal street of the village—not on the side-walks, but all over the street; everybody was lounging, loafing, chatting, waiting, alert, expectant, interested—for it was train-time. That is to say, it was diligence-time—the half-dozen big diligences would soon be arriving from Geneva, and the village was interested, in many ways, in knowing how many people were coming and what sort of folk they might be. It was altogether the livest-looking street we bad seen in any village on the continent. The hotel was by the side of a booming torrent, whose music was loud and strong; we could not see this torrent, for it was I1 dark now, but one could locate it without a light. There was a lazge enclosed yard in front of the hotel, and this was filled with groups of villagers waiting to see the diligences arrive, or to hire themselves to excursionists for the morrow. A telescope stood in the yard, with its huge barrel canted up towards the lustrous evening star, The long porch of the hotel was populous with By tourists, who sat in shawls and wraps under the vast overshadow- ing bulk of Mont Blanc, and gossiped or meditated. Never did a mountain seem so close; its big sides seemed at one’s very elbow, and its majestic dome, and the lofty cluster of 7 Ul slender minarets that were its neighbours, seemed to be almost over one’s head. It was night in the streets, and the lamps were ypg—dl sparkling everywhere; the broad bases and shoulders of the mountains were in deep gloom, but their summits swam in a . iccopé oile e strange, rich glow which was really daylight, and yet had a -l 1 mellow something about it which was very different from the J himse! hard white glare of the kind of daylight I was used to. Its the ascen! radiance was strong and clear, but at the same time it was singu- g larly soft, and spiritual, and benignant. No, it was not our ]y Ofllt’f S 258 A TRAMP ABROAD. harsh, aggressive, realistic daylight—it secemed propercr to an d o i fr b js 10 enchanted land—or to heaven. knoWe I had seen moonlight and daylight together before, but I had not seen daylight and black night elbow to elbow before. arage 10 W chas e At least I had not scen the daylight resting upon an object suf- Teto 0 ficiently close ab hand before to make the contrast startling and at war with nature. A gre ot found e ! The daylight passed away. Presently the moon rose up yas toe behind some of those sky-piercing fingers or pinnacles of bare {hi s O rock of which I have spoken—they were a little to the left of the 16 O fii crest of Mont Blanc, and right over our heads—but she couldn’t manag o to climb high enough toward heaven to get entirely (hamenix U She would ghow the glittering arch of her upper o0 L) ) above them. I third occasionally, and scrape it along behind the comb-like row; sometimes a pinnacle stood straight up, like a statuette of ebony, e made 8 hureat against that glittering white shield, then seemed to glide out of it by its own volition and power, and become a dim spectre, Jsne jou alove whilst the next pinnacle glided into its place and blotted the spotless disk with the black exclamation point of its presence. are to pay. The top of one pinnacle took the shapely, clean-cut form of a man o worstn f rabbit’s head, in the inkiest silhouette, while it rested against the moon. The unillumined peaks and minarets, hovering ~ Api antom-like above us while the others were pain- some tnf vague and ph fully white and strong wit h snow and moonlight, made a peculiar ing to the effect. guides fe But when the moon, having passed the line of pinnacles, was back 15 hidden behind the stupend ous white swell of Mont Blanc, the ustally t masterpiece of the evening w ras flung on the canvas. A rich aman f man hag greenish radiance sprang into the sky from behind the mountain, and in this some airy shreds and ribbons of vapour floated about, dollars, and being flushed with th at strange tint, went waving to and fro together, like pale green flames. After a while, radiating bars—vast i only o broadening fan-shaped shadows—grew up and stretched away to sexena] g the zenith from behind the mountain. 1t was a spectacle to take sy, one’s breath, for the wonder of it and the sublimity. Wey Indeed, those mighty bars of alternate light and shadow taing gp. streaming up from behind that dark and prodigious form, and fuides oy occupying the h alf of the dull and opaque heavens, was the most imposing and impressive marvel I had ever 1 ooked upon. There I glfl If a child had asked batong is no simile for it, for nothing is like it. fies op ) me what it was, I should have said, ¢ Humble yourself in this Whih by presence, it is the glory flowing from the hidden head of the those of J Creator. One falls shorter of the truth than that, sometimes, vith N, in trying to explain mysteries to the little people. I could have Efflndfng b = A TRAMP ABROAD. 259 Mg a0 found out the cause of this awe-compelling miracle by enquiring, i by 00t | for it is not infrequent at Mont Blanc—but I did not wish to know. We have not the reverent feeling for the rainbow that a 10 ey savage has, because we know how it is made. We have lost as 20 ohj, much as we gained by prying into that matter. frst Sarly We took a walk down street, a block or two, and at a place e 100n 1y where four streets met and the principal shops were clustered, Plnnace found the groups of men in the roadway thicker than ever—for this was the Exchange of Chamonix. These men were in the 10 the o o, costumes of guides and porters, and were there to be hired. ~but e el The office of that great personage, the Guide-in-Chief of the o g 1 . il (f Chamonix Guild of Guides, was near by. This guild is a close corporation, and is governed by strict laws. There are many 8 0t excursion routes, some dangerous and some not, some that can be made safely without a guide, and some that cannot. The tedto g bureau determines these things. me & dm g Where it decides that a guide e and is necessary, you are forbidden to go without one. Neither are you allowed to be a victim of extortion; the law states what you i of it i | Jean-cnt fom are to pay. The guides serve in rotation; you cannot select the man who is to take your life into his hands, you must take the 1 TSt worst in the lot if it is his turn. TInare A guide’s fee ranges all the way up from a half dollar (for others wer some trifling excursion of a few rods) to twenty dollars, accord- b, mada ing to the distance traversed and the nature of the ground. A guide’s fee for taking a person to the summit of Mont Blanc and 16 Of I back is twenty dollars—and he earns it. The time employed is o I (i usually three days, and there is enough early rising in it to make the cant a man far more ‘healthy and wealthy and wise’ than any one man has any right to be. The porter’s fee for the same trip is ten japour . ghind them ap/ dollars. Several fools—no, I mean several tourists—usually go i waril together, and divide up the expense, and thus make it light ; for i if only one f—tourist, I mean—went, he would have to have 1¢i0 fel {0 several guides and porters, and that would make the matter 5 45 costly. We went into the Chief’s office. ;-lfqli;y' There were maps of moun- ful A tains on the walls, also one or two lithographs of celebrated guides and a portrait of the scientist De Saussure. wa‘j:gioua fr e T i ] In glass cases were somé labelled fragments of boots and 1p0fl. 1 batons, and other suggestive relics and remembrances of casnal- ok el d ties on Mont Blanc. In a book was a record of all the ascents gail jour® which have ever been made, beginning with Nos. 1 and 2—being those of Jacques Balmat and De Saussure, in 1787, and ending dden b ) thly meflm with No. 685, which wasn’t cold yet. In fact No. 685 was it standing by the official table waiting to receive the precious s 2 260 A TRAMP ABROAD. ehaia g0 of by official diploma which should prove to his German houschold o1l ous and to his descendants that he had once been indiscreet enough hose to climb to the top of Mont Blanc. He looked very happy ind ! e when he got his document; in fact, he spoke up and said he was qnotber 0 happy. o 00 fhe I tried to buy a diploma for an invalid friend at home who of b f 40 Gus had never travelled, and whose desire all his life has been to and D8 ascend Mont Blanc, but the Guide-in-Chief rather insolently yas S ih refused to sell me one. I was very much offended. I said I did Dlackuond not propose to be discriminated against on account of my nation. it and mace] ality; that he had just sold a diploma to this German gentleman, Agwest and my money was as good as his; I would see to it that he eigml iighf ¢ couldn’t keep shop for Germans and deny his produce to Ameri- soqmed 1 cans; I would have his licence taken away from him at the of ten mint dropping of a handkerchief ; if France refused to break him, I concluded & would make an international matter of it and bring on a war; Jipes from the soil should be drenched with blood; and not only that, but I ge’g 4 1’g])f. would set up an opposition shop and sell diplomas at half price. Jantemn Was TFor two cents I would have done these things, too; but valley! 11 nobody offered me the two cents. I tried to move that German’s taken s, feelings, but it could not be done; he would not give me his 10t smoke diploma, neither would he sell it to me. I told him my friend Even was sick and could not come himself, but he said he did not care tain's close a verdammtes pfennig, he wanted his diploma for himself—did E one sees W suppose he was going to risk his neck for that thing and then and a littl give it to a sick stranger ? Indeed he wouldn’t, so he wouldn’t. light was | I resolved, then, that I would do all I could to injure Moné Blanc. one plce tween the In the record book was a list or all the fatal accidents which possible had happened on the mountain. It began with the one in 1820, theless, when the Russian Dr. Hamel's three guides were lost in a crevasse TWhile of the glacier, and it recorded the delivery of the remains in the time, aud valley by the slow-moving glacier 41 years later. The latest bote port catastrophe bore date 1877. being s We stepped out and roved about the village a while. In front of the little church was a monument to the memory of of the eaf great moy the bold guide Jacques Balmat, the first man who ever stood Jich the upon the summit of Mont Blanc. He made that wild trip soli- &1 preye tary and alone. He accomplished the ascent a number of times 8 loye), afterwards. A stretch of nearly half a century lay between his first ascent and his last one. At the ripe old age of 72 he was S0 by g by others, climbing around a corner of a lofty precipice of the Pic du Midi —nobody with him—when he slipped and fell. So he died in l Ao the harness. A lent A TRAMP ABROAD. 261 He had grown very avaricious in his old age, and used to go 1 by, thi) lnm\met u 0 off stealthily to hunt for non-existent and impossible gold among those perilous peaks and precipices. He was on a quest of that e Very han D ind i e kind when he lost his life. There was a statue to him, and another to De Saussure, in the hall of our hotel, and a metal dat hopgy plate on the door of a room upstairs bore an inscription to the 116 hag | q effect that that room had been occupied by Albert Smith. Balmat and De Saussure discovered Mont Blanc—so to speak—but it His articles in d, T was Smith who made it a paying property. o myy Blackwood and his lectures on Mont Blanc in London advertised it and made people as anxious to see it as if it owed them money. 1t As we strolled along the road we locked up and saw a red It 0] signal light glowing in the darkness of the mountain side. from ~him seemed but a trifling way up—perhaps a hundred yards, a climb of ten minutes. It was a lucky piece of sagacity in us that we 0 0 bredk b concluded to stop a man whom we met and get a light for our d bring o pipes from him instead of continuing the climb to that lantern to 10§ The man said that that get a light, as had been our purpose. lantern was on the Grands Mulets, some 6,500 feet above the ) thin valley ! Iknow by our Riffelberg experience that it would have ove that I would sooner I taken us a good part of a week to go up there. not smoke at all than take all that trouble for a light. : Even in the daytime the foreshortening effect of the moun- tain’s close proximity creates curious deceptions. For instance, for hi one sees with the naked eye a cabin up there beside the glacier, and a little above and beyond he sees the spot where that red light was located; he thinks he could throw a stone from the 1\1\01 one place to the other. But he couldn’t, for the difference be- tween the two altitudes is more than 38,000 feet. It looks im- possible, from below, that this can be true, but it is true, never- theless. While strolling about, we kept the run of the moon all the I (! time, and we still kept an eye on her after we got back to the 3; 6 hotel portico. I had a theory that the gravitation of refraction being subsidiary to atmospheric compensation, the refrangibility XA I of the earth’s surface would emphasize this effect in regions where fy the great mountain ranges occur, and possibly so even-handedly im- pact the odic and idyllic forces together, the one upon the other, n o € as to prevent the moon from rising higher than 12,200 feet above tha t e sea level. 4 I‘.llfl]bflr0 This daring theory had been received with frantic scorn by some of my fellow-scientists, and with an eager silence P I lay bet by others. 2847 ] age 0t 1% Among the former I may mention Prof. H ) and among the latter Prof. T £2], Such is professional jealousy ; ofthe ! p b , & a scientist will never show any kindness for a theory which he 262 A TRAMP ABROAD. ience ] b did not start himself. There is no feeling of bfotherhood among for these people. Indeed, they always resent it when I call them accmmt brother. To show how far their ungenerosity can carry them, I el will state that I offered to let Prof. H fill i 150U y publish my great (Al theory as his own discovery; I even begged him to do it; 20 Sflllm | . T even proposed to print it myself as his theory. Instead and enall® in of thanking me, he said that if I tried to fasten that theory fening 0 on him he would sue me for slander. I was going to offer T b S0 - glways! jsfeL it to Mr. Darwin, whom I understood to be a man without prejudices, but it occurred to me that perhaps he would not be sprtable 1 interested in it since it did not concern heraldry. {hings. VA But I am glad now that I was forced to father my intrepid slesping & theory myself, for on the night of which I am writing it was those persé triumphantly justified and established. o | Mont Blanc is nearly 16,000 feet high; he hid the moon utterly; near him is a peak qoon a8 e which is 12,216 feet high ; the moon slid along behind the pin- oreral ol imaginafior nacles, and when she approached that one I watched her with intense interest, for my reputation as a scientist must stand or TWhen e fall by its decision. I cannot describe the emotions which surged is 5o ively like tidal waves through my breast when I saw the moon glide placable fo behind that lofty needle and pass it by without exposing more Hight than two feet four inches of her upper rim above it! I was departed secure, then. I knew she could rise no higher, and I was right. hrought i She sailed behind all the peaks and never succeeded in hoisting hotel to and T wa her disk above a single one of them. While the moon was behind one of those sharp fingers, its sound, | shadow was flung athwart the vacant heavens—a long, slanting, dancinga wait for | clean-cut, dark ray, with a streaming and energetic suggestion of force about it, such as the ascending jet of water from a power- he smoof ful fire engine affords. It was curious to see a good strong fell with shadow of an earthly object cast upon so intangible a field as he s pul the atmosphere, slight pa We went to bed at last, and went quickly to sleep, but I he fryin woke up, after about three hours, with throbbing temples, and a Presently head which was physically sore, outside and in. I was dazed, Tsid, /G dreamy, wretched, seedy, unrefreshed. I recognised the occasion But be y of all this; it was that torrent. In the mountain villages of S&ld, ‘(o torrent in his ears. Switzerland, and along the roads, one has always the roar of the Camg thy He imagines it is music, and he thinks 00r ong poetic things, about it; he lies in his comfortable bed and is Doots ! lulled to sleep by it. But by-and-by he begins to notice that il o his head is very sore—he cannot account for it; in solitudes anq [ g where the profoundest silence reigns, he notices a sullen, distant, stole continuous roar in his ears, which is like what he would expe- Sprawling A TRAMP ABROAD. 263 ey oy g g ey rience if he had sea-shells pressed against them—he cannot account for it; he is drowsy and absent minded ; there is no N Gy L) th 0] LY iy tenacity to his mind, he cannot keep hold of a thought and 1:1 follow 1t out ; if he sits down to write, his vocabulary is empty, Im ty d)‘ no suitable words will come, he forgets what he started to do, ) tha ¢ 160 and remains there, pen in hand, head tilted up, eyes closed, lis- tening painfully to the muffled roar of a distant train in his ears. 0 (fer In his soundest sleep the strain continues, he goes on listening, . always listening, intently, anxiously, and wakes at last, harassed, ‘Zf’xe would i irritable, unrefreshed. He cannot manage to account for these 0 ey things. Day after day he feels as if he had spent his nights in a sleeping car. It actually takes him weeks to find out that it is 0 Writy those persecuting torrents..that have been making all the mis- Blane chief. It is time for him to get out of Switzerland then, for as soon as he has discovered the cause, the misery is magnified g be‘r:ind {he several fold. The roar of the torrent is maddening then, for his T imagination is assisting ; the physical pain it inflicts is exquisite. musk ‘When he finds he is approaching one of those streams, his dread il th iy is so lively that he is disposed to fly the track and avoid the im= v the mon placable foe. 1 €xpo I il Eight or nine months after the distress of the torrents had ghove 1t - departed from me, the roar and thunder of the streets of Paris and Tvas brought it all back again. I moved to the sixth storey of the cemd 1040 hotel to hunt for peace. About midnight the noises dulled away, and I was sinking to sleep, when I heard a new and curious fnoen sound. I listened: evidently some joyous lunatic was softly - I had to dancing a ¢ double shuffle’ in the room over my head. bt wait for him to get through, of course. Five long, long minutes i(oi he smoothly shuffled away—a pause followed, then something %0 b "Ofld ]’ fell with a heavy thump on the floor. Isaid to myself, ¢ There— 4 I he is pulling off his boots—thank heavens he is done.’ Another slight pause—he went to shuffling again ! I said to myself, ‘Is 7 1o 8 bl | he trying to see what he can do with only one boot on?’ fon i Presently came another pause and another thump on the floor. g temp I said, ¢ Good, he has pulled off his other boot—now he is done. 10, But he wasn’t. I nl €d[ The next moment he was shuffling again. said, ¢ Confound him, he is at it in his slippers !’ After a little A ¥ the 1ir came that same old pause, and right after it that thump on the floor once more. I said, ¢ Hang him, he had on {wo pair of ad e boots !’ For an hour that magician went on shuffling and {t able b fo I pulling off boots till he had shed as many as twenty-five pair, and I was hovering on the verge of lunacy. I got my gun and stole up there. The fellow was in the midst of an acre of 3 SUHefll o ol e sprawling boots, and he had a boot in his hand, shuffling it—no, o 1OV 264 A TRAMP ABROAD. I mean polishing it. The mystery was explained. He hadn’t 3sk€d h.‘m been dancing. He was the ¢ Boots’ of the hotel, and was attend- tog&fl!?r W ing to business, Ho s o Vet unflecefim telestop®s CHAPTER XLI1V, id thab t most difie AFTER breakfast, that next morning in Chamonix, we went out in the yard and watched the gangs of excursionising tourists arriv- yifhin &2 o their & ing and departing with their mules and guides and porters; then we took a look through the telescope at the snowy hump of expense ! Mont Blanc. It was brilliant with sunshine, and the vast smooth Ith 17 i} bulge seemed hardly five hundred yards away. With the naked el h eye we could dimly make out the house at the Pierre Pointue, nien o which is located by the side of the great glacier, and is more than g 3,000 feet above the level of the valley, but with the telescope said that we could see all its details. would o8 While I looked, a woman rode by the house on a mule, and I saw her with sharp distinctness; I fo sant ! could have described her dress. I saw her nod to the people of Hom the house, and rein up her mule, and put her hand up to shield up and her eyes from the sun. I was not used to telescopes; in fact, I consent, never had looked through a good one before; it seemed in- patheto credible to me that this woman could be so far away. I was boldly p satisfied that I could see all these details with my naked eye; but grim gl when I tried it, that mule and those vivid people had wholly e vanished, and the house itself -had become small and vague. I (lacier tried the telescope again, and again everything was vivid. The amongst strong black shadows of the mule and the woman were flung with 16 against the side of the house, and I saw the mule’s silhouctte wave stretohe its ears. Qeserpt The telescopulist—or the telescopulariat—I do not know times [ which is right—said a party were making the grand ascent, and gethera would come in sight on the remote upper heights, presently; so e | we waited to observe this performance. beyond Presently I had a superb idea. I wanted to stand with a from ¢ he party on the summit of Mont Blanc, merely to be able to say I took 1l had done it, and I believed the telescope could set me within S0V g seven feet of the uppermost man. The telescoper assured me that it could. I then asked him how much I owed him for as that to me far asI had got ? He said, one franc. I asked him how much it would cost me to make the entire ascent ? Three francs. 1L & Was smg) l 61 once determined to make the entire ascent. But first I enquired if fr there was any danger? Hesaid no—not by telescope; said he had Withiy f taken a great many parties to the summit, and never lost a man. ang stopp ddfltmg bi ), ) A TRAMP ABROAD., 205 B Tl L Vit 3 I agked him what he would charge to let my agent go with me, together with such guides and porters as might be necessary ? He said he would let Harris go for two francs; and that unless we were unusually timid, he should consider guides and porters unnecessary ; it was not customary to take them when going by telescope, for they were rather an incumbrance than a help. He e said that the party now on the mountain were approaching the toun most difficult part, and if we hurried we should overtake themn within ten minutes, and could then join them and have the benefit ang 0t i of their guides and porters without their knowledge, and withoust ‘l:mp (i expense to us. A\ i} I then said we would start immediately. I believe I said it calmly, though I was conscious of a shudder and of a paling cheek, R in view of the nature of the exploit I was so unreflectingly en- gaging in. But the old dare-devil spirit was upon me, and I said that as I had committed myself, I would not back down; I 2 would ascend Mont Blanc if it cost me my life. I told the man to slant his machine in the proper direction, and let us be off. Harris was afraid and did not want to go, but I heartened him fo up and said I would hold his hand all the way; so he gave his consent, though he trembled a little at first. I took a last Y pathetic look upon the pleasant summer scene about me, then boldly put my eye to the glass and prepared to mount among the grim glaciers and the everlasting snows. We took our way carefully and cautiously across the great Glacier des Bossons, over yawning and terrific crevasses and A amongst imposing crags and buttresses of ice, which were fringed Iere with icicles of gigantic proportions. The desert of ice that stretched far and wide about us was wild and desolate bayond description, and the perils which beset us were so great that at times I was minded to turn back. _Ido But I pulled my pluck to- nd gether and pushed on. We passed the glacier safely and began to mount the steeps beyond, with great celerity. When we were seven minutes out from the starting point, we reached an altitude where the scene | 0 b Jofo took a new aspect ; an apparently limitless continent of gleaming e snow was tilted heavenward before our faces. As my eye followed g ‘bfifr sl il & that awful acclivity far away up into the remote skies, it seemed iy to me that all I had ever seen before of sublimity and magnitude on o 18 hi o 2E was small and insignificant compared with this. We rested a moment, and then began to mount with speed. rep 106 Within three minutes we caught sight of the party ahead of us, frtle nqlllf jd et and stopped to observe them. They were toiling up a long, Pe slanting ridge of snow—twelve persons, roped together some rer a2 266 A TRAMP ABROAD. ack 10 e fifteen feet apart, marching in single file, and strongly mazked home if W against the clear blue sky. One was a woman. We could see I dge ahen thet them lift their feet and put them down; we saw them swing their alpenstocks forward in unison, like o many pendulums, and then anofl e, 00 bear their weight upon them; we saw the lady wave her hand- anded Dy gt 0 kerchief. They dragged themselves upwards in a worn and weary o make ! way, for they had been climbing steadily from the Grand Mulets, on the Glacier des Bossons, since three in the morning, and it grel SN{ ] was eleven now. We saw them sink down in the snow and rest, (hamontX and drink something from a bottle. After a while they moved goig 10 on, and as they approached the final short dash of the home- ok of stretch we closed up on them and joined them. I Presently we all stood together on the summit! What a 09 fo asC view was spread out below ! Away off under the north-western fimid, he horizon rolled the silent billows of the Farnese Oberland, their Bardships snowy crests glinting softly in the subdued lights of distance; good et in the north rose the giant form of the Wobblehorn, draped Tis il from peak to shoulder in sable thunder-clouds; beyond him, to he would the right, stretched the grand processional summits of the from the Cisalpine Cordillera, drowned in a sensuous haze; to the east with ext loomed the colossal masses of the Yodelhorn, the Fuddlehorn, Wil and the Dinnerhorn, their cloudless summits flashing white and donota cold in the sun; beyond them shimmered the faint far line of him be1 the Ghauts of Jubbelpore and the Aiguilles des Alleghenies; in and do 1 the south towered the smoking peak of Popocatapetl and the stories ¢ unapproachable altitudes of the peerless Scrabblehorn; in the west-south-west the stately range of the Himalayas lay dreaming lwving} Afr in a purple gloom; gnd thence all around the curving horizon Itclescops the eye roved over a troubled sea of sunkissed Alps, and noted Inques lest here and there, the noble proportions and soaring domes of the Clr Bottlehorn, and the Saddlehorn, and the Shovelhorn, and the Wit Powderhorn, all bathed in the glory of noon, and mottled with (. softly-gliding blots, the shadows flung from drifting clouds. . Overcome by the scene, we all raised a triumphant tremen- dous shout, in unison. A startled man at my elbow said— 0.1 I the street ?’ ¢ Confound you, what do you yell like that for, right here in . I, That brought me down to Chamonix like a flirt. I gave that man some spiritual advice and disposed of him, and then This disstey paid the telescope man his full fee, and said that we were Tep L of charmed with the (rip, and would remain down, and not re-ascend and require him to fetch us down by telescope. This lind f pleascd him very much, for of course we could have stepped 1 A TRAMP ABROAD. 267 oy iy back to the summit and put him to the trouble of bringing us LT ' Il home if we had wanted to. d i ' I judged we could get diplomas, now anyhow ; so we went i : “m" L I ; after them, but the Chief Guide put us off, with one pretext or Warg hmw another, during all the time we stayed in Chamonix, and we \Womm, ended by never getting them at all. So much for his prejudice Weary against people’s nationality. However, we worried him enough b to make him remember us and our ascent for some time. He dng Chamonix. even said, once, that he wished there was a lunatic asylum in This shows that he really had fears that we were 80 o going to drive him mad. It was what we intended to do, but lack of time defeated it. by I cannot venture to advise the reader one way or the other, as to ascending Mont Blanc. I say only this: if he is at all 0 timid, the enjoyments of the trip will hardly make up for the hardships and sufferings he will have to endure. But if he has good nerve, youth, health, and a bold, firm will, and could leave his family comfortably provided for in case the worst happened, he would find the ascent a wonderful experience, and the view Summits of aze; to from the top a vision to dream about, and tell about, and recall the P with exultation all the days of his life. While I do not advise such a person to attempt the ascent, I do not advise him against it. But if he elects to attempt it, let him be warily careful of two things: choose a calm clear day; and do not pay the telescope man in advance. There are dark stories of his getting advance-payers on the summit, and then 0y 10 leaving them there to rot. [ A frightful tragedy was once witnessed through the Chamonix telescopes. Think of questions and answers like these, on an | i al inquest :— om Coroner. You saw deceased lose his life ? .; VELL Witness. I did. flwd o C. Where was he at the time ? g W. Close to the summit of Mont Blanc. g . Where were you? flm 'Irr’lllEi‘ sl V. In the main street of Chamonix. [how for, 1™ 1R C. What was the distance between you? W. A Uitle over five miles, as the bird flies. [ilid g firh I This accident occurred in 1866, a year and a month after the f b Ji, 00 disaster on the Matterhorn. Three adventurous English gentle- AL ] that ! men ! of great experience in mountain climbing, made up their o, & i minds to ascend Mont Blanc without guides or porters, All B telesiope " .’ Sir George Young and his brothers James and Albert. 4 bare 881 | \ 268 A TRAMP ADROAD. endeavours to dissuade them from their project failed. Powerful o 8 telescopes are numerous in Chamonix. These huge brass tubes, st g mounted on their scaffoldings and pointing skyward from ever el Yeb fho choice vantage-ground, have the formidable look of artillery, and give the town the general aspect of getting ready to repel a Malets in 5 charge of angels. The reader may easily believe that the qustane telescopes had plenty of custom on that August morning in 1866, Courage Mor everybody knew of the dangerous undertaking which was on foot, and all had fears that misfortune would result. All the were (‘ur'ER closng I morning the tubes remained directed towards the mountain because & heights, each with its anxious group around it; but the white deserts were vacant. Miletsab the scene At last, towards eleven o’clock, the people who were looking Young, through the telescopes cried out, ¢ There they are ! —and sure After enough, far up on the loftiest terraces of the Grand Plateau, the exhaus three pygmies appeared, climbing with remarkable vigour and reasent spirit. They disappeared in the ¢Corridor, and were lost to cover sight during an hour. Then they reappeared, and were pre- imprude sently seen standing together upon the extreme summit of Mont Anotber Blanc. So far, all was well. They remained a few minutes on \ul CL that highest point of land in Europe, a target for all the tele- hours af scopes, and were then seen to begin the descent. Suddenly all velief w three vanished. An instant after, they appeared again, two thelr o thousand feet below ! the leve Evidently they had tripped and been shot down an almost a glimps perpendicular slope of ice to a point where it joined the border Thi of the upper glacier. Naturally the distant witnesses supposed then, they were now looking upon three corpses; so they could hardly his gui believe their eyes when they presently saw two of the men rise to their feet and bend over the third. During two hours and a appear, passed half they watched the two busying themselves over the extended form of their brother, who seemed entirely inert. Chamonix’s sisting tied fog affairs stood still; everybody was in the street, all interest was centred upon what was going on upon that lofty and isolated they to make m stage five miles away. Finally the two—one of them walking At with great difficulty—were seen to begin the descent, abandoning the third, who was no doubt lifeless. Their movements were aseenf underty followed, step by step, until they reached the ¢ Corridor ’ and dis~ appeared behind its ridge. Before they had had time to traverse Teinfoy axioyg the ‘ Corridor ’ and reappear, twilight was come, and the power of the telescopes was at an end. V2§ beg 80uingt The survivors had a most perilous journey before them in the gathering darkness, for they must get down to the Grands thesg Mulets before they would find a safe stopping-place—a long and i by 6 by A TRAMP ABROAD. i PUWerf 269 I i {4 bl'a\g o &y tedious descent, and perilous enough even in good daylight. The ity Ty oldest guides expressed the opinion that they could not succeed ; 00§ o ] that all the chances were that they would lose their lives. Tady Yet those brave men did succeed. They reached the Grands lley { Mulets in safety. Iiven the fearful shock which their nerves had org sustained was not sufficient to overcome their coolness and courage. It would appear from the official account that they were threading their way down through those dangers from the 8 th closing in of twilight until two o’clock in the morning, or later; y Ol 06 because the rescuing party from Chamonix reached the Grands Mulets about three in the morning, and moved thence towards Tere fo the scene of the disaster under the leadership of Sir George Young, ‘who had only just arrived.” nd P‘ After having been on his feet twenty-four hours in the exhausting work of mountain-climbing, Sir George began the re-ascent at the head of the relief party of six guides, to re- nd This was considered a new d cover the corpse of his brother. imprudence, as the number was too few for the service required. T I Another relief party presently arrived at the cabin on the Grands Mulets, and quartered themselves there to await events. Ten t, St hours after Sir George’s departure towards the summit, this new relief were still scanning the snowy altitudes above them from red ama, § their own high perch among the ice-deserts 10,000 feet above the level of the sea; but the whole forenoon was passed without W a the a glimpse of any living thing appearing up there. This was alarming Half a dozen of their number set out, then, early in the afternoon, to seek and succour Sir George and o 00 his guides. The persons remaining at the cabin saw these dis- appear, and then ensued another distressing wait. Four hours {170 how passed without tidings. Then at five o’clock another relief, con- over 1 sisting of three guides, set forward from the cabin. They car- ert, 0 ried food and cordials for the refreshment of their predecessors; il 1§ they took lanterns with them, too. Night was coming on; and to make matters worse, a fine, cold rain had begun to fall. them ¥ At the same hour that these three began their dangerous D! ascent the official Guide-in-Chief of the Mont Blanc region movemel el undertook the dangerous descent to Chamonix, all alone, to get ih reinforcements. oridr '8 However, a couple of hours later, at 7 p.M., the e fo anxious solicitude came to an end, and happily. A bugle note al i fhe }\M was heard, and a cluster of black specks was distinguishable against the snows of the upper heights. The watchers counted l dhre 18 l;fl these specks eagerly—fourteen. Nobody was missing. An hour and a half later they were all safe under the roof of the cabin. | o6 o4 %8 They had brought the corpse with them. Sir George Young 270 A TRAMP ADBROAD. tarried there but a few minutes, and then began the long and troublesome descent from the cabin to Chamonix. He probably reached there about two or three o’clock in the morning, after ) having been afoot among the rocks and glaciers during two days and two nights. His endurance was equal to his daring. 0 S The cause of the unaccountable delay of Sir George and the from Chat relief parties among the heights where the disaster had happened . the parf ! was a thick fog ) or partly that, and partly the slow and difficult work of conveying the dead body down the perilous steeps. and M1 ¢ e The corpse, upon being viewed at the inquest, showed no ag reac by ( bruises, and it was some time before the surgeons discovered that the neck was broken. mOrHiflga | One of the surviving brothers had sus- movem! tained some unimportant injuries, but the other had suffered (hamomx no hurt at all. How these men could fall 2,000 feet almost per- 1eac pendicularly, and live afterwards, is a most strange and un- fhe frs accountable thing. A great many women have made the ascent of Mont Blanc. and hid £ Tight An English girl, Miss Stratton, conceived the daring idea, two or one had 1 three years ago, of attempting the ascent in the middle of winter. of the cl She tried it, and she succeeded. Moreover, she froze two of valley fo her fingers on the way up; she fell in love with her guide on the summit, and she married him when she got to the bottom time the 5 Taging again. There is nothing in romance, in the way of a striking ¢ situation,” which can beat this love scene in mid-heaven on an attempie isolated ice-crest with the thermometer at zero and an Arctic The but on gale blowing. suceeede The first woman who ascended Mount Blanc was a girl aged twenty-two, Mdlle. Maria Paradis—1809. summit Nobody was with reposefl her but her sweetheart, and he was not a guide. The sex then took a rest for about thirty years, when a Mdlle. d’Angeville asleep, made the ascent—1838. henumb In Chamonix I picked up a rude old them, | lithograph of that day which pictured her ‘in the act.” How- more by ever, I value it less as a work of art than as a fashion-plate. found, g Miss d’Angeville put on a pair of men’s pantaloons to climb in, which was wise; but she cramped their utility by adding her In} petticoat, which was idiotic. 8 Note-h One of the mournfullest calamities which men’s disposition admit to climb dangerous mountains has resulted in, happened on Mont 1en dp Blanc in September, 1870. Mr. d’Arve tells the stor Whichth y briefly in his ¢ Histoire du Mont Blanc.’ In the next chapter I will copy 1ess oo} its chief features. Tieg] £l persoy Teached f W6 werg ¢ A TRAMP ABROAD, 271 Bty [ | £ oy g Mo CHAPTER XLV. 30y 0 I Ly A CATASTROPHE WHICH COST ELEVEN LLVES. Ay, It () ‘md il ON September 5, 1870, a caravan of eleven persons departed bad from Chamonix to make the ascent of Mont Blanc. Three of e L the party were tourists: Messrs. Randall and Bean, Americans, and Mr. George Corkindale, a Scotch gentleman; there were l hO i three guides and five porters. The cabin on the Grands Mulets i was reached that day; the ascent was resumed early the next morning, September 6. The day was fine and clear, and the movements of the party were observed through the telescopes of Chamonix; at two o’clock in the afternoon they were seen to i reach the summit. A few minutes later they were seen making the first steps of the descent; then a cloud closed around them and hid them from view. Eight hours passed, the cloud still remained, night came, no one had returned to the Grands Mulets. Iadle of Sylvain Couttet, keeper 1026 tmo of the cabin there, suspected a misfortune, and sent down to the valley for help. A detachment of guides went up, and by the h hern 1] b ot v time they had made the tedious trip and reached the cabin, a raging storm had set in. They had to wait; nothing could be ay of 8 § Tid-neave A attempted in such a tempest. o and an A { The wild storm lasted more than a week, without ceasing ; but on the 17th, Couttet, with several guides, left the cabin and w L n 10 Was succeeded in making the ascent. In the snowy wastes near the summit they came upon five bodies, lying upon their sides in a OV reposeful attitude, which suggested that possibly they had fallen i asleep, there, while exhausted with fatigue and hunger, and M benumbed with cold, and never knew when death stole upon a1l them. Couttet moved a few steps farther and discovered five n i more bodies. The eleventh corpse—that of a porter—was not 8 4 I found, although diligent search was made for it. a0 0Ll ons dan In the pocket of Mr. Bean, one of the Americans, was found 1l fy by a note-book in which had been pencilled some sentences which admit us, in flesh and spirit, as it were, to the presence of these i e’ G men during their last hours of life, and to the grisly horrors happefle juld which their fading vision looked upon and their failing conscious- br;ffl"" 1 ness took cognizance of :— Jo 0] il | buper] Tuesday, Spt. 6.—I have made the ascent of Mont Blanc, with 4 4 ten persons—eight guides, and Mr. Corkindale and Mr. Randall. 'We reached the summit at half-past two. Immediately after quitting it, we were enveloped in clouds of snow. ‘We passed the night in a 272 A TRAMP ABROAD. grotto hollowed in the snow, which e 82 St‘ afforded but poor shelter, and T i o0 lhe glflcie was ill all night, Sept. 7, Morning.—The cold is excessive. The snow falls h eavily e Ca"f and without interruption. The guides take no rest. 10 fie{OTO Eveniig.—My Dear Hessie, we have been two days on Mont s ® Blanc, in the midst of a terrible hurricane of snow, we have lost our o P ure 400 way, and are in a hole scooped in the snow, at an altitude of 15,000 ducedd 19‘ o feet. I have no lorger any hope of descending. qriof ¢ '*Pg; aterng Q0% N They had wandered around, and around, in that blinding snow storm, hopelessly lost, in a space only a hundred yards joture of 08 {he funel 1 square; and when cold and fatigue vanquished them at last, they scooped their cave and lay down there to die by inches, unaware pelsatmosp The care that five steps more would have brought them into the true path. They were so near to life and safety as th at, and did not suspect reached 1 it ! The thought of this gives the shar nel with bis story conveys. pest pang that the tragic glacier, a0 The author of the ¢ Histoire du Mont Blanc’ introduces the urder and to sell our closing sentences of Mr. Bean’s pathetic record thus:— if the wonst ‘ Here the characters are large and unsteady ; the hand which traces them is become chilled and tor man ad ke pid; but the spirit dious voice, survives, and the faith and resignation of the dying man are expressed with a sublime simplicity.’ by be came ebind the Perhaps this note-boolk will be found and sent to you. We have nothing to eat, my feet are already Thus ot frozen, and I am exhausted ; I the exercis have strength to write only a few w ords more. I have left means for saved 13 80 C.’s education ; I know you will em ploy them wisely. I die with faith in God, and with loving thought s of you. Farewell toall. We The tourist well worth shall meet again, in Heaven. , , . I think of you always. 4 strong an y It is the way of the Alps to deliver death to their victims with a merciful swiftness, but here the rule failed, These men sary, yet 1t venient, suffered the bitterest death that has been recorded in tl 1e history anda half ¢ of those mountains, freighte d as that history is with grisly tragedies. less than 4 pressed for the Alps b v d;\ys’ W0 = k- CIIAPTER XLVI, the exploj 00 run, t Me. ITarers and T took some guides and porters, and ascevded to them fop { the Hétel des Pyramides, which is perched on the high moraine which borders the Glacier des Bo Ssons. e Loyt The road led sharply 01 18, up hill, all the way, through gr ass and flowers and woods, and was a pleasant walk, barring th e Loy e fatigue of the climb. Suadrp of From the hotel we could view the hu ge glacier at very close range. After a rest w e followed down a path which had been s idiflt g‘)d A TRAMP ABROAD 273 T“ur 8] iy il made in the steep inner frontage of the moraine, and stepped 8w upon the glacier itself. One of the shows of the place was a il l tunnel-like cavern, which had been hewn in the glacier. The \w M T 0 proprietor of this tunnel took candles, and conducted us into it. It was three or four feet wide and about six feet high. Its walla W) of pure and solid ice emitted a soft and rich blue Light that pro- duced a lovely effect, and suggested enchanted caves, and that sort of thing. When we had proceeded some yards and were 1', in tat entering darkness, we turned about and had a dainty sun-lit picture of distant woods and heights framed in the strong arch of iy the tunnel and seen through the tender blue radiance of the tun- nel’s atmosphere. ot The cavern was nearly a hundred yards long, and when we reached its inner limit the proprietor stepped into a branch tun- gt nel with his candles, and left us buried in the bowels of the glacier, and in pitch darkness. We judged his purpose was 0 10 murder and robbery ; so we got out our matches and prepared to sell our lives as dearly as possible by setting the glacier on fire i ] ) if the worst came to the worst—but we soon perceived that this + oub man had changed his mind ; he began to sing, in a deep melo- he ying e dious voice, and woke some curiousand pleasing echoes. By-and- by he came back and pretended that that was what he had gone behind there for. We believed as much of that as we wanted to. 4o oo, Wb Thus our lives had been once more in imminent peril, but by [ au I it the exercise of the swift sagacity and cool courage which had saved us so often, we had added another escape to the long list. '\\ The tourist should visit that ice-cavern, by all means, for it is \}‘0 well worth the trouble; but I would advise him to go only with a strong and well armed force. I do not consider artillery neces- ath [ sary, yet it would not be unadvisable to take it along if con- Ty venient. The journey, going and coming, is about three miles and a half, three of which are on level ground. We made it in Jl) 1§ less than a day, but I would counsel the unpractised, if not pressed for time, to allow themselves two. Nothing is gained in the Alps by over-exertion; nothing is gained by crowding two days’ work into one for the poor sake of being able to boast of the exploits afterwards. It will be found much better, in the long run, to do the thing in two days, and then subtract one of them from the narrative. This saves fatigue, and does not injure . the narrative. All the more thoughtful among the Alpine tourists flfl'e L do this, rofld Ied : i We now called upon the Guide-in-Chief, and asked for a 18 ad e squadron of guides and porters for the ascent of the Montanvert. ) Chfllb e This idiot glared at us, and said— gcier il T y yhied & 274 A TRAMP ABROAD. gt o oSt ¢You don’t need guides and porters to go to the Montan- vert.’ o e 12 g o (What do we need, then?’ o for it ¢Such as you >—an ambulance !’ chould o I was so stung by this brutal remark that I took my custom {hree hundre elsewhere. Betimes, next morning, we had reached an altitude of 5,000 ipangh oot mat] feet above the level of the sea. Here we camped and breakfasted. - bridge 048 There was a cabin there—the spot is called the Caillet—and a On the door of the cabin was a sign That s spring of ice-cold water. 2 ufig 0 h in French, to the effect that ¢ One may here see a living chamois o slak for 50 .centimes.’ We did not invest ; what we wanted was to luier! Do see a dead one. pills n guitens A little after noon we ended the ascent, and arrived at the new hotel on the Montanvert, and had a view of six miles, right qer ok 1o oot white up the famous Mer de Glace. At this point it is like a sea whose deep swales and long rolling swells have been caught in mid- mig ith movement and frozen solid; but farther up it is broken up into observer would > wildly-tossing billows of ice. gy, Th F / . !We descended a ticklish path in the steep side of the mo- siethed my There were tourists of both in and a0 ol raine, and invaded the glacier. TIOUIEADS e sexes scattered far and wide over it everywhere, and it had the festive look of a skating rink. Europs, e She ascended The Empress Josephine came this far once. fhirs, Bray the Montanvert in 1810—but not alone ; a small army of men of exqisly aud 1y oy preceded her to clear the path—and carpet it, perhaps,—and she followed, under the protection of siwty-eight guides. ing o g Her successor visited Chamonix later, but in far different But in § It was seven weeks after the first fall of the Empire, and Wt s it style. poor Marie Louise, Ex-Empress, was a fugitive. She came at s somef night, and in a storm, with only two attendants, and stood before 1tis incurabl,\, a peasant’s hut, tived, bedraggled, soaked with rain, ¢the red Vith Ty print of her lost crown still girdling her brow, and implored ittt | admittance—and was refused ! A few days before, the adulations dl‘iflki Tater and applauses of a nation were sounding in her ears, and now e, Ty she was come to this? prohihitory " We crossed the Mer de Glace in safety, but we had misgiv- &, ‘DOHVt (i) ings. The crevasses in the ice yawned deep and blue and Bithey A mysterious, and it made one nervous to traverse them. The ey ¢ daqdly' l huge round waves of ice were slippery and difficult to climb, and T of gy il the chances of tripping and sliding down them and darting into a crevasse were too many to be comfortable. ieep 0 the P 2% bl | In the bottom of a deep swale between two of the biggest gy Sovery of the ice-waves, we found a fraud who pretended to be cutting Pllblisbes 1 A TRAMP ABROAD. 275 "l Yy, steps to insure the safety of tourists. He was ¢ soldiering * when we came upon him, but he hopped up and chipped out a couple of steps about big enough for a cat » and charged us a franc or two for it. Then he sat down again t Lo Y gy » to doze till the next party fi should come along. He had collected black mail from two or three hundred people already, that day, but had not chipped out L il et and bt ice enough to impair the glacier perceptibly. I have heard of a good many soft sinecures, but it seems to me th at keeping toll- the Ul ‘;l bridge on a glacier is the softest one I have enc ountered yet. 8 bl wag g gy That was a blazing hot day, and it brought a persist ing and 88 g iy persecuting thirst with it. What an unspeakable luxury it was e Wanted s to slake that thirst with the pure and limpid ice-water of the glacier! Down the sides of every great rib of ice poured limpid b i grrived it f o 1 rills in gutters carved by their own attrition; better still, where- il 1615 ke & wa vh ever arock had lain, there was now a bowl-shaped hole, with smooth white sides and bottom of ice, and this bowl was brim- 0 et o ming with water of such absolute clearness that the carcless it 19 broken wp i observer would not see it at all, but would think the bowl was empty. These fountains had such an alluring look that I often o e of te m stretched myself out when I was not thirsty and dipped my face et fOUTtS in and drank till my teeth ached. Everywhere among the Swiss hete, and it mountains we had at hand the blessing—not to be found in Kurope, ewcept in the mountains,—of water capable of quenching once. Ste thirst. Everywhere in the Swiss highlands brilliant little rills o small arm of exquisitely cold water went dancing along by the roadsides, i, perhap and my comrade and I were always drinking and always deliver- o ing our deep gratitude. i 1 n fr But in Europe everywhere, except in the mountains, the all 0 o Eoy water is flat and insipid beyond the power of words to describe. e )l It is served lukewarm; but no matter, ice could not help it; it is incurably flat, incurably insipid. It is only good to wash with; I wonder it doesn’t occur to th q with e average inhabitant to try it for that. In Europe the people say contemptuously, ¢ Nobody e prow, &5 drinks water here.’ Indeed they have a sound and sufficient ] efore, U6 pl o1 reason. In many places they even have what may be called in her e prohibitory reasons. In Paris and Munich, for instance, they folid 2% say, ‘ Don't drink the water, it is simply poison.’ j Either America is healthier than Europe, notwithstanding | dep her ¢ deadly’ indulgence in ice water, or she does not keep the raversé | I think we do o i) run of her death-rate as sharply as Europe does. i altfoc keep up the death- statistics accurately; and if we do, our cities hem 8% % | are healthier than the cities of Europe. Every month the erman government tabulates the death-rate of the world and 0 el 0 {0 patt I publishes it. I scrap-booked these reports during several et T 2 276 A TRAMP ABROAD. eudless gra"e months, and it was curious to see how regular and persistently jut s s each city repeated its same death-rate month after month. The Jl Si2e 0 tables might as well have been stereotyped, they varied so little. e These tables were based upon weekly reports showing the e average of deaths in each 1,000 of population for a year. Munich ot reci! was always present with her 33 deaths in each 1,000 of her population (yearly average), Chicago was as constant with her but ome ! ‘\' 7 coufor 'P 15 or 17, Dublin with her 48—and so on. riea e Only a few American cities appear in these tables, but they are scattered so widely over the country, that they furnish a oz OJS? or good general average of city health in the United States; and I exoursoniae think it will be granted that our towns and villages are healthier a body than our cities. Here is the average of the only American cities reported in i upon our @ the German tables:— Chicago, deaths in 1,000 of population annually, 16; Phila- Lk/fl(]'x or delphia, 18; St. Louis, 18; San Francisco, 19; New York (the ad Dublin of America), 23. 10 § Wt See how the figures jump up, as soon as one arrives at the transatlantic list :— before, e reah Paris, 27 ; Glasgow, 27; London, 28; Vienna, 28; Augs- at four n berg, 28; Braunchweig, 28 ; Konisberg, 29 ; Cologne, 29 ; Dres- den, 29; Hamburg, 29; Berlin, 30; DBombay, 30; Warsaw, stock was la cutter to e 81; Breslau, 31; Odessa, 32; Munich, 33; Strasburg, 83; Pesth, 85; Cassel, 85 ; Lisbon, 36 ; Liverpool, 36 ; Prague, 37 ; Manvais D \ ?i:‘ Madras, 87 ; Bucharest, 89; St. Petersburg, 40; Trieste, 40; 160 Ve (i tied toy Alexandria (Egypt), 48; Dublin, 48 ; Calcutta, 55. Edinburgh is as healthy as New York—=23; but there is no 10es il city in the entire list which is healthier, except Frankfort-on Ve re;:: lef for G the Main—20. But Frankfort is not as healthy as Chicago, San Francisco, St. Louis, or Philadelphia. amming, | ] Perhaps a strict average of the world might develop the fact People that where 1 in 1,000 of America’s population dies, 2 in 1,000 of ladder, 1) the other populations of the earth succumb. Bive ot I do not like to make insinuations, but I do think the above e ony ¢ statistics darkly suggest that these people over here drink this Tegilafioy detestable water ¢on the sly.’ Vere g, We climbed the moraine on the opposite side of the glacier, Some of fh and then crept along its sharp ridge a hundred yards or so, in SHOVS g 4 pretty constant danger of a tumble to the glacier below. The $eaks by 1 fall would nearly have been 100 feet, but it would have closed me ayeley, out as effectually as 1,000 feet, therefore, I respected the distance : e Deyey accordingly, and was glad when the trip was done. A moraine i8 an ugly thing to assault head-first. At a distance it looks like an mlles awfl“,, ity fl.Uyn ol gy A TRAMP ABROAD. 217 " e ] endless grave of fine sand, accurately shaped and nicely smoothed ; A g, g but close by, it is found to be made mainly of rough boulders of 16 Vated I, all sizes, from that of a man’s hand to that of a cottage. By-and- 1T sy, {ls by we came to the Mauvais Pas, or, the Villainous Road, to frayy Vi translate it feelingly. It was a break-neck path around the face a1l g, of a precipice forty or fifty feet high, and nothing to hang on to § OOt i but some iron railings. I got along, slowly, safely, and un- comfortably, and finally reached the middle. My hopes began to 58 tah] {046 the rise a little, but they were quickly blighted ; for there I met a hog—a long-nosed bristly fellow, that held up his snout and OIIE worked his nostrils at me enquiringly. A hog on a pleasure 068 4] el\ excursion in Switzerland—think of it. It is striking and unusual ; a body might write a poem about it. He could not retreat, if he 0 cies rpore] had been disposed to do it. It would have been foolish to stand upon our dignity in a place where there was hardly room to stand m'fl:y, lw o upon our feet, so we did nothing of the sort. There were twenty 1) New York ( or thirty ladies and gentlemen behind us; we all turned about and went back, and the hog followed behind. The creature did 5 006 amivesai not seem set up by what he had done; he had probably done it before. We reached the restaurant on the height called the Chéteau Yifnna, phf at four in the afternoon. 0 0o 90+ D It was a memento factory, and the stock was large, cheap and varied. I bought the usual paper- cutter to remember the place by, and had Mont Blanc, the Mauvais Pas, and the rest of the region branded on my alpenstock ; then we descended to the valley, and walked home without being 40: T tied together. This was not dangerous, for the valley was five W miles wide, and quite level. T We reached the hotel before nine o’clock. Next morning we eX left for Geneva on top of the diligence, under shelter of a gay bea ALY awning. If I remember rightly, there were more than twenty people up there. It was so high that the ascent was made by '»dE\ 1?*3 ladder. The huge vehicle was full everywhere, inside and out. Jon (g% 4 ‘We had en- Five other diligences left at the same time, all full. gaged our seat two days beforehand, to make sure, and paid the o think® regulation price, five dollars each ; but the rest of the company orer bee were wiser ; they had trusted Baedeker, and waited ; consequently, some of them got their seats for one or two dollars. Baedeker ol ixi{f\ ol knows all about hotels, railways and diligence companies, and o dred yor% T: speaks his mind freely. He is a trustworthy friend of the gl it traveller. 0! ldhar Y We never saw Mont Blanc at his best until we were many re‘PECWd i miles away ; then he lifted his majestic proportions high into the sdones ¥ heavens, all white and cold and solemn, and made the rest of the qnce ol world seem little and plebeian, and cheap and trivial. 278 A TRAMP ABROAD. opset As he passed out of sight at last, an old Englishman settled Tshook himself in his seat and said— ¢ Well, I am satisfied, I have seen the principal features of ivent] oy e Swiss scenery—DMont Blanc and the goitre—now for home!’ T stll CHAPTER XLVIL D gl 1, (o WE spent a few pleasant restful days at Geneva, that delightful wagge city where accurate time-pieces are made for all the rest of the gl Jad e world, but whose own clocks never give the correct time of day shopyronal by any accident. aud sid= Geneva is filled with pretty little shops, and the shops are onsien {ie hotel—le filled with the most enticing gimcrackery ; but if one enters one of these places he is at once pounced upon, and followed up, and yhen be ikes so persecuted to buy this, that, and the other thing, that he is {he monef, C0 very grateful to get out again, and is not at all apt to repeat his {ing, 0b 0 experiment. ‘The shopkeepers of the smaller sort, in Geneva, was thu are as troublesome and persistent as are the salesmen of that Yeuds suarely monster hive in Paris, the Grands Magasins du Louvre—an The il establishment where ill-mannered p estering, pursuing and ipsist- affeng o b ence have been reduced to a science. aeatle pe is another bad feature. In Geneva, prices in the smaller shops are very elastic-—that Then T gonel I was looking in at a window at a very t0 do fhat the pretty string of beads, suitable for a child. I was only admiring Tgotlstn them; I had no use for them; I hardly ever wear beads. The Lostfor am b shopwoman came out and offered them to me for thi rty-five somewhat f francs. I said it was cheap, but I did not need them. ¢ Ah, but, monsieur, they are so beautiful!’ judge! Bu found anothy I confessed it, but said the y were not suitable for one of my self No | age and simplicity of character. She darted in and brought s Py them out, and tried to force them into my hands, saying— the ight l ¢ Ah, but only see how lovely they are! Surely monsieur I ey will take them : ) monsieur shall have them for thirty francs. There, I have said it—it is a loss, but one must live’! ’ queer name ang (Purgat I dropped my h ands and tried to move her to respect my ‘P g unprotected situation. But no, she dangled the beads in the sun before my face, exclaiming, ¢ Ah, monsieur cannot resist them 1’ ICflmEO Ivg, [y, She hung them on my coat button, folded her h ands resignedly, and said, ¢ Gone—and for thirty francs, the lovely things, it is Vhen [ g incredible ! but the good God will s I gy anctify the sacrifice to me.’ Uly-tg I removed them gently, returned them, and walked away, shaking my head and smilin g a sm ile of silly embarrassment, Sty while the passers-by halted to obsery €. The woman leaned ous 0f gy Blzg ang ] of her door, shook the beads, and screamed after me— Tty t hiy | " A TRAMP ABROAD. I 279 Mgy i) ¢ Monsieur shall have them for twenty-eight ! * I shook my hcad. incipal M g 0 0 O fop home! ) ¢ Twenty-seven ! It is a cruel loss, it is ruin—but take thein, only take them.’ I still retreated, still wagging my head. ¢ Mon Dieu, they shall even go for twenty-six! There, I have said it. Come !’ T g I wagged another negative. al thy g A nurse and a little English girl had been near me, and were following me, now. The e i da shopwoman ran to the nurse, thrust the beads into her hands and said— aud the dopg g ¢ Monsieur shall have them for twenty-five ! Take them to 00€ enfers 0 the hotel—he shall send me the money to-morrow—next day— Gl ) dll when he likes.’ Then to the child: ¢ When thy father sends me 06 the money, come thou also, my angel, and thou shalt have some- 0 18 ) thing, oh so pretty.’ 14 I was thus providentially saved. The nurse refused the 0 & AT0EN 0 { beads squarely and firmly, and that ended the matter. UTE~t I made one i Ld Lo 4 The ¢sights’ of Geneva are not numerous. uing and attempt to hunt up the houses once inhabited by those two dis- agreeable people, Rousseau and Calvin, but had no success. Yery el Then I concluded to go home. I found it was easier to propose d window &t = to do that than to do it; for that town is a bewildering place. 8 ouly adniy I got lost in a tangle of narrow and crooked streets, and stayed Deals, | [ lost for an hour or two. Finally I found a street which looked .rJg\‘for e somewhat familiar, and said to myself, ‘ Now I am at home, I fh I, judge.’ But I was wrong ; this was ¢ Hell Street.’ Presently I found another place which had a familiar look, and said to my- self, *Now I am at home, sure.’ It was another error. This b fr et d was ¢ Purgatory Street.” After a little I said, ¢ Now I've got to nd i npdfimu;l; the right place, anyway . . . . no, this is ¢ Paradise Street;” I'm farther from home than I was in the beginning.” Those were ' \Sur'ely [ queer names—CQCalvin was the auther of them, likely. ¢ Hell? fr thigW fus and ¢ Purgatory’ fitted those two streets like a glove, but the [ i \(4 o her B0 ¢ Paradise’ appeared to be sarcastic. 1 I came out on the lake front, at last, and then I knew where he 1l I was. I was walking along before the glittering jewellery shops ot T when I saw a curious performance. A lady passed by, and a T Jands rf‘SI I trim dandy lounged across the walk in such an apparently care- Jovely t085° )p §40 rifoet) fully-timed way as to bring himself exactly in front of her when flfl;?d iy she got to him; he made no effort to step out of the way ; he did and W not apologize ; he did not even notice her. She had to stop still risIe ]y b | I]Ed ] and let him lounge by. I wondered if he had done that piece of brutality purposely. He strolled to a chair and seated himself o e~ 280 A TRAMP ABROAD. plote 10 at a small table; two or three other males were sitting at similar tables sipping sweetened water. I waited ; presently a youth ons A% alne Jave hang? came by, and this fellow got up and served him the same ‘trick, Still, it did not seem possible that anyone could do such a fst, but € thing deliberately. To satisfy my curiosity I went around the Fren the block, and sure enou gh, as I approached, at a good round speed, olsted et he got up and lounged lazily across my path, fouling my course fion, Ste word, but g exactly at the right moment to receive all my weight. This — proved that his previous performances had not been accidental, firtt but intentional, Th mu I saw that dandy’s curious game played afterwards in Paris, mme but not for amusement ; not with a motive of any sort, indeed, but bt the ead simply from & selfish indifference to other people’s comfort and dealoftime by rights. One does not see it asfrequently in Paris ashe might ex- Te wereo pect to, for there the law says, in effect, ‘It is the business of the weak to get out of the way of the strong.” We fine a cabman gale up}vards of th if he runs over a citizen ; Paris fines the citizen for being run Th ach over. At least so everybody says—but I saw something which sl caused me to doubt; I saw a horseman run over an old woman & i phich one day—the police arrested him and took him away. That looked Almost ALl as if they meant to punish him. o 1t 16g 1 It will not do for me to find merit in American manners—for annqu are they not thestanding butt for the jests of critical and polished (al 0 a Europe? Still I must venture to claim one little matter of supe- ‘i Windo riority in our manners—a lady may traverse our streets all day, over f b going and coming as she chooses, and she will never be molested of a ot~ by any man; but if a lady unattended walks abroad in the things visil streets of London, even at noonday, she will be pretty likely to be accosted and insulted ; and not by drunken sailors, stillness e but by dreamy S men who carry the look and we ar the dress of gentlemen. It is Was. diferpt maintained that these people are not gentlemen, but are a lower gort disguised as gentlemen. The case of Colonel Valentine 80lders o] thinty op Baker obstructs that argrment, for a man cannot become an officer in the British arm ;, except he hold the rank of gentleman. Plezsa e le I This person, finding himself alone in a railway compartment Which g . with an unprotected girl—but it is an atro cious story, and doubtless the reader remembers it well enough . London must 8 bt have been more or less accustomed to B 5 COmpartyeys akers, and the ways of Bakers, else London wou ld have been offended and excited. Wao Tutoy I Baker was ¢ imprisoned >—in a parlour; and he could not have “’ashiug ling Aty mm the been more visited, or more overwhelmed with attentions, if he had committed six murders, and then—w hile the gallows was MUy preparin Bl o, Peace, g—*¢ got religion ’—after the manner of the holy Charles of saintly memory. Arkansaw—it seems a little indeli= oty ) i e A TRAMP ABROAD. 281 i tmw i D] iy tate to be trumpeting forth our own superiorities, and compari- T8 yon 0 the gy A sons are always odious, but still—Arkansaw would certainly ooul g have hanged Baker. I do not say she would have tried him first, but she would have hanged him, any way. Went gpom1 0 2o vy Even the most degraded woman can walk our streets un- molested, her sex and her weakness being her suflicient protec- Touly 07 1y tion. I weh 1 She will encounter less polish than she would in the old world, but she will run across enough humanity to make up it bey a@»fi?.’i for it. The music of a donkey awoke us early in the morning, and we i ermar by 1 rose up and made ready for a pretty formidable walk—to Italy; st iy 11 but the road was so level that we took the train. We lost a good i) (] af deal of time by this, but it was no matter, we were not in a hurry. A8 a8 e oy 0 18 te We were four hours going to Chambery. The Swiss trains go upwards of three miles an hour, in places, but they are quite " safe. 1260 for be We nine ati That aged French town of Chambery was as quaint and crooked W Som as Heilbronn. A drowsy reposeful quiet reigned in the back streets o Yol an ol which made strolling through them very pleasant, barring the amay, Tha 100860 almost unbearable heat of the sun. In one of these streets, which was eight feet wide, gracefully curved, and built up with small rican mane- antiquated houses, I saw three fat hogs lying asleep, and a boy ritieal and From queer old-fashioned (also asleep), taking care of them. i 6 matter windows along the curve, projected boxes of bright flowers, and ) Our reets over the edge of one of these boxes hung the head and shoulders I never be of a cat—asleep. The five sleeping creatures were the only living I 3 ab things visible in that street. There was not a sound; absolute ] be ety stillness prevailed. It was Sunday; one is not used to such tken salor dreamy Sundays on the Continent. In our part of the town it was different that night. A regiment of brown and battered of galoes, 12 I nen, but are & ! soldiers had arrived home from Algiers, and I judged they got thirsty on the way. They sang and drank till dawn, in the i Colonel pleasant open air. 1 (‘AH?’O 4‘6 We left for Turin at 10 the next morning by a railway, 6 I LIy (omp P which was profusely decorated with tunnels. We forgot to take I, a lantern along, consequently we missed all the scenery. Our grocions compartment was full. A ponderous tow-headed Swiss woman, ugh Jond 8 and fhe who put on many fine-lady airs, but was evidently more used to washing linen than wearing it, sat in a corner seat and put her legs n0e a bl id il " across into the opposite one, propping them intermediately with | hecot her up-ended valise. In the seat thus pirated sat two Americans, ith ) aftest greatly incommoded by that woman’s majestic coffin-clad feet. il ¢ i One of them begged her, politely, to remove them. She opened o eh()y e er wide eyes and gave him a stare, but answered nothing. By- s 611 ol 282 A TRAMP ABROAD, and-by he preferred his request again, with great respectful- e S eyl O ness. She said, in good English, and in a deeply offended tone, sight % : that she had paid her passage and was not going to be bullied out deas O of her ‘rights’ by ill-bred foreigners, even if she was alone and @ unprotected. Jonbleareac® mlks from 01 ¢ But I have rights also, madam. My ticket entitles me to a seat, but you are occupying half of it.’ sheleral the of shopsand to me? ‘I will not talk with you, sir. What right have you to speak There 15 I do not know you. One would know you came from a land where there are no gentlemen. No gentleman would treat ikedy et a lady as you have treated me.’ over hmd, al | ) a ‘I come from a region where a lady would hardly giveme the firue same provocation.’ Populo ¢You have insulted me, sir ! You have intimated that I am of lesir Eveything not a lady—and I hope I am not one, after the pattern of your country.’ ganee—and th The b square ‘I beg that you will give yourself no alarm on that head, madam; but at the same time I must insist—always respectfully Botel tey gure —that you let me have my seat.’ Joueto mateh, ' Here the fragile laundress burst into tears and sobs. o for ] = — = ‘I never was so insulted before! Never,never! It is shame- The lse ful, it is brutal, it is base, to bully and abuse an unprotected lady Window e covered with who has lost the use of her limbs and cannot put her feet to the sofa floor without agony !’ ¢ Good heavens, madam, why didn’t you say that at first! I chander i We did not offer a thousand pardons. And I offer them most sincerely. Idid not know—I could not know—that anything was the matter. You the o bedre are most welcome to the seat, and would have been from the first s 10 ¢ogf g Turin my if I bad only known. I am truly sorry it all happened, I do assure you.’ stores o the But he couldn’t get a word of forgiveness out of her. She itbasitg oy simply sobbed and snuffled in a subdued but wholly unappeas- OIS gpg v able way for two long hours, meantime crowding the man more ad gy gene than ever with her undertaker-furniture, and paying no sort of Chothes, T aftention to his frequent and humble little efforts to do something et for her comfort. Then the train halted at the Italian line, and Or Seyery she hopped up and marched out of the car with as firm a leg as Ol ghoy any washerwoman of all her tribe ! And how sick I was to see how she had fooled me! Upan gpg i L aliang Turin is a very fine city. In the matter of roominess it Sligyeg Cimg Ay ¥ transcends anything that was ever dreamed of before, I fancy. TWEJ It sits in the midst of a vast dead-level, and one is ob liged to 13 Immature imagine that land may be had for the aski ng, and no taxes to pay, £0 lavishly do they use it. 0l g g The streets are extravagantly wide, e, ; A TRAMP ABROAD. 283 iy R g i il the paved squares are prodigious, the houses are huge and hand- DY ol some, and compacted into uniform blocks that stretch away as Gmf'm be b\l]ll E(‘Quo straight as an arrow, into the distance. The sidewalks are about ey Ang Ed u as wide as ordinary European streets, and are covered over with a One ikt double arcade, supported on great stone piers or columns. il g by walks from one end to the other of these spacious streets, under shelter all the time, and all his course is lined with the prettiest bt g of shops and the most inviting dining-houses. OV Y0 iy There is a wide and lengthy court, glittering with the most Jen A ol wickedly enticing shops, which is roofed with glass, high aloft over head, and paved with soft-toned marbles laid in graceful ud ha:dly sty figures; and at night, when this place is brilliant with gas and populous with a sauntering and chatting and laughing multitude himated it of pleasure-seekers, it is a spectacle worth seeing. Everything is on a large scale; the public buildings, for in- tthe e o g stance—and they are architecturally imposing too, as wellas large. 0 alam on fha b The big squares have big bronze monuments in them. At the alvaps el hotel they gave us rooms that were alarming for size, and a par- lour to match. It was well the weather required no fire in the ars and sobs, parlour, for I think one might as well have tried to warm a park. noever] T s The place would have a warm look though in any weather, for the window curtains were of red silk damask, and the walls were INH unproterte covered with the same fire-hued goods—so, also, were the four ok put e fe sofas and the brigade of chairs. The furniture, the ornaments, the chandeliers, the carpets were all new and bright and costly. u ay hat ot i nmost el Ii We did not need a parlour at all, but they said it belonged to A sthe matt the two bedrooms and we might use itif we chose. Since it was to cost nothing, we were not averse to using it, of course. are been fon Turin must surely read a good deal, for it has more book il appne [ stores to the square rod than any other town I know of. And otf of B it has its own share of military folk. The Italian officers’ uni- forms are very much the most beautiful I have ever seen; put wholly and as a general thing the men in them were as handsome as the ovding e clothes. They were not large men, but they had fine forms, flfld Pm g 10 fine features, rich olive complexions, and lustrous black eyes. efforts 10 () o son For several weeks I had been culling all the information I gf the 2 85" could about Italy, from tourists. The tourists were all agreed yith upon one thing—one must expect to be cheated at every turn by o &6 [ t* the Ttalians. I took an evening walk in Turin, and presently came agross a little Punch and Judy show in one of the great patte 0 mifif§ ] squares. Twelve or fifteen people constituted the audience. o - ed 0f efore 3 0 ot his miniature theatre was not much bigger than a man’s coffin od stood on end ; the upper part was open and displayed a tinselled ol fa Xej TOPVI’ parlour—a good-sized handkerchief would have answered for a %) i i o xS 284 A TRAMP ABRUAD. drop-curtain; the footlights consisted of a couple of candle-ends il an inch long; various manikins the size of dolls appeared on the lein® rpreter ke stage and made long speeches at each other, gesticulating a good e deal, and they generally had a fight before they got through. il g SO0° They were worked by strings from above, and the illusion was Tfien J refire not perfect, for one saw, not only the strings, but the brawny connected ‘."” hand that manipulated them—and the actors and actresses all The epste talked in the same voice too. The audience stood in front of the nm b isorf. theatre, and seemed to enjoy the performance heartily. offour Qo When the play was done, a youth in his shirt-sleeves started TS out Wil around with a small copper saucer to make a collection. I did Russan port 20 not know how much to put in, but thought I would be guided the o by my predecessors. Unluckily I only had two of these, and they o, Lt did not help me much because they did not put in anything. I et had no Italian money, so I put in a small Swiss coin worth about o rnkled o ten cents. The youth finished his collection trip and emptied the inner wall, 0ea result on the stage; he had some very animated talk with the rirealns concealed manager, then he came working his way through ] bud gone iy : the crowd—seeking me, I thought. I had a mind to slip away, st rem o0 but concluded I wouldn’t; I'would stand my ground, and confront busines would the villainy, whatever it was. The youth stood before me and held ] morng, up that Swiss coin, sure enough, and said something. I did with oy o not understand him, but I judged he was requiring Italian I was irri- iffeng T money of me. The crowd gathered close to listen. four doly tated, and said—in English of course— b, Wiba ‘I know it’s Swiss, but youw’ll take that or none. I haven’t in my putke, any other.’ peny | He tried to put the coin in my hand, and spoke again. I Here as: drew my hand away, and said— I must gl ¢ No, sir. I know all about you people. You can't play any suspicous o of your fraudful tricks on me. If there is a discount on that Clll[y-l flow coin, I am sorry, but I am not going to make it good. I noticed stood the ol that some of the audience didn’t pay you anything at all. You by my ol let them go without a word, but you come after me because you Speekably g think I'm a stranger and will put up with an extortion rather tending e than have a scene. But you are mistaken this time—yow’ll take ard g oo that Swiss money or none.’ wese), g The youth stood there with the coin in his fingers nonplussed and bewildered ; of course he had not understood a word. An Passed Upthe Was hey Lnglish-speaking Italian spoke up now, and said— ‘ You are misunderstanding the boy. He does not mean any Semeg Yer e Worgh g harm. He did not suppose you gave him so much money pur- I the Chugh posely, so he hurried back to return you the coin lest you might get away before you discovered your mistake. Take it, and give fing t 0 him a penny—that will make every thing smooth again.’ \ fart?d ot A TRAMP ABRJUAD. 285 Ul g, 1 probably blushed then, for there was occasion. Through " Y th: the interpreter I begged the boy’s pardon, but I nobly refused to 3551101flating Aol 0 take back the ten cents. I said I was accustomed to squander- gy o 'llmi‘;hj, ing large sums in that way—it was the kind of person I was. {le 1} uim W Then I retired to make a note to the effect that in Italy persons : , O the Iy " connected with the drama do not cheat. ad gy The episode with the showman reminds me of a dark chapter ul it}'fmnt n‘ in my history. I once robbed an aged and blind beggar-woman 11, of four dollars—in a church. It happened in this way. When (A I was out with the Innocents Abroad, the ship stopped in the 4 coll; ttin, | Russian port of Odessa, and I went ashore with others to view L would the town. I got separated from the rest, and wandered about, 0 cI"th anyt alone, until late in the afternoon, when I entered a Greek church to see what it was like. When I was ready to leave, I observed Ol L) two wrinkled old women standing stiffly upright, against the panden inner wall, near the door, with their brown palms open to fed receive alms. T contributed to the nearer one, and passed out. I had gone fifty yards, perhaps, when it occurred to me that I |4 mind must remain on shore all night, as I had heard that the ship’s yund, and e business would carry her away at four o’clock and keep her away ol befo:éme al until morning. It was a little after four now. I had come ashore id some with only two pieces of money, both about the same size, but differing largely in value—one was a French gold piece worth i o | 0 1 four dollars, the other a Turkish coin worth two cents and a half. With a sudden and horrified misgiving, I put my hand il AT in my pocket, now, and sure enough I fetched out that Turkish or 1006 penny ! Here was a situation. A hotel would require pay in advance and okt gl —1T must walk the streets all night, and perhaps be arrested as a , Yo 1 ¢ suspicious character. There was but one way out of the diffi- culty—I flew back to the church, and softly entered. There ) 4 count 0 ke 1b ool | i stood the old women yet, and in the palm of the nearest one still lay my gold piece. I was grateful. I crept close, feeling un- an )mmfl gf dl speakably mean ; I got my Turkish penny ready, and was ex- ) or 6 qn est0r tending a trembling hand to make the nefarious exchange, when i ol I heard a cough behind me. I jumped back as if I had been this fime-] accused, and stood quaking while a worshipper entered and passed up the aisle. pis gt I was there a year trying to steal that money; that is, it erstnd8 7 seemed a year, though of course it must have been much less. g s The worshippers went and came ; there were hardly ever three pedies ilhe “Tv ; in the church at once, but there was always one or more. Every ) much uE”‘ time I tried to commit my crime somebody came in or somebody et B aft started out, and I was prevented; but at last my opportunity 0 fh anflw‘ 286 A TRAMP ABROAD. s I one sfllt came, for one moment there was nobody in the church but the i <cPPed I e juot two beggar-women and me. I whipped the gold piece out of the L poor old pauper’s palm and dropped my Turkish penny in its b ol :[IJPPe place. Poor old thing, jledd it e she murmured her thanks—they smote [ me to the heart. Then I sped away in a guilty hurry, and even anu o when I was a mile from the church I was still glancing back, every moment, to see if I was being pursued. 7 quat That experience has been of priceless value and benefit to { T“t'f (an me ; for Iresolved then, that as long as Ilived I would never again thelr A il t L4 rob a blind beggar-woman in a church; and I have always kept my word. The most permanent lessons in morals are those w hich 2] come not of booky teaching, but of experience. CHAPTER XLVIIL ; i ) IN Milan we spent most of our time in the vast and beautiful W Note 1 Arcade or Gallery, or whatever it is called. Blocks of tall new buildings of the most sumptuous sort, rich with decoration and bhad graced with statues, the streets between these blocks roofed over 1 with glass at a great height, the pavements all of smooth and adl variegated marble, arranged in tasteful patterns—Ilittle tables all lJ W over these marble streets, people sitting at them, eating, drink- ing, or smokin g—crowds of other people strolling by—such is i be would e the Arcade. I should like to live in it all the time. v 04 6 ¢ The win- {n 1 W dows of the sumptuous restaurants stand open, and one breakfasts there and enjoys the passing show. We wandered all over the town, e njoying whatever was going on in the streets. We took one omnibus ride, and as I did not i il speak Italian and could not ask the price, o 14 I held out some copper coins to the conductor, and he took two. Then he went and a Ly got his tariff-card and showed me that he had t alen only the Decam right sum. So I made a note—Italian omnibus not cheat. conductors do ‘I ) g L 000t h Near the cathedral I saw another Mo ns instance of probity. An EI T old man was peddling dolls and toy fa Two small American ol ag children bought fans, and one gave the old man a franc and three o [ copper coins, and both started away ; f g Iy g but they. were called back, It fhg i and the franc and one of the coppe s were restored to them. g Ry Hence it is plain that in Ttaly parties connected with the drama, g e and with the omnibus and toy interests do not cheat, thfi {1 Uil i) ay The stocks of goods in the shops w ere not extensive, gene- g 61 rally. In the vestibule of what seeme oy we saw eight or ten wooden dummies d to be a clothing store, by b by grouped together, clothed it W i in woollen business-suits, and each suit marked with its price. L Frag ay A TRAMP ABROAD. 287 Harris he “h\lrch b ol One suit was marked forty-five francs—nine dollars. Mgy stepped in, and said he wanted a suit like that.® Nothing easier ; k ' fi the old merchant dragged in the dummy, brushed him off with ank I iy 1§ hE? i a broom, stripped him, and shipped the clothes to the hotel. He )ty o said he did not keep two suits of the same kind in stock, but ol St I £ manufactured a second when it was needed to re-clothe the nv'c f’lancmo g ) dummy. In another quarter we found six Italians engaged in a violent alle and ‘D’CnEST # I v gy quarrel. They danced fiercely about, gesticulating with their aY6 alyay heads, their arms, their legs, their whole bodies; they would il g tng rush forward occasionally in a sudden access of passion and shake 8, 0 W ) their fists in each other’s very faces. We lost half an hour there, waiting to help cord up the dead, but they finally embraced each other affectionately, and the trouble was all over. The episode was interesting, but we could not have afforded all that time to it if we had known nothing was going to come of it but a re- o st and bt Blag XS of conciliation. Note made—in Italy, people who quarrel cheat the with decory spectator. We had another disappointment, afterwards. We approached 2 blocks mooted e | of suog il n a deeply interested crowd, and in the midst of it found a fellow [T1S==L1i} el T wildly chattering and gesticulating over a box on the ground, flp which was covered with a piece of old blanket. Bvery little hen Al while he would bend down and take hold of the edge of the blanket with the extreme tips of his fingers, as if to show bo e, Ths , and one bre there was no deception—chattering away all the while—but always, just as I was expecting to see a wonderful feat of legerdemain, he would let go the blanket and rise to explain whaterer v further. and as [ | 3 However, at last he uncovered the box and got out a spoon with a liquid in it, and held it fair and frankly around, for OUt SO people to see that it was all right and he was taking no advantage en be ¥ ; —his chatter became more excited than ever. I supposed he had t 60 was going to set fire to the liquid and swallow it, so I was nihs mndm () greatly wrought up and interested. I got a cent ready in one hand and a florin in the other, intending to give him the former nce of Ju i gy 4 if he survived and the latter if he killed himself—for his loss ki) Sn]flH A would be my gain in a literary way, and I was willing to pay a ané frane fair price for the item—but this impostor ended his intensely moving performance by simply adding some powder to the liquid oy ere (4 , pesore ! and polishing the spoon ! Then he held it aloft, and he could e L not have shown a wilder exultation if he had achieved an immortal miracle. ob chen The crowd applauded in a gratified way, and it seemed o st to me that history speaks the truth when it says these children i of the South are easily entertained. o o i i d d 10f hery d i We spent an impressive hour in the noble cathedral, where ol 1 iy 16 P 288 A TRAMP ABROAD, The fl{f{bt il- long shafts of tinted light were cleaving through the solemn dim- 0l ‘Y"SJ fhe ness from the lofty windows, and falling on a pillar here, a pic- il ot 4 ture there, and a kneeling worshipper yonder. The organ was bad dra¥ muttering, censers were swinging, candles were glinting on the peied | g™ distant altar, and the robed priests were filing silently past them. The scene was one to sweep all frivolous thoughts away, and {rep pund e “h‘(’h s 0 steep the soul in a holy calm. A trim young American lady fipartof a0y paused a yard or two from me, fixed her eyes on the mellow ol Uf an sparks flecking the far-off altar, bent her head reverently a ni al herelo ! moment, then straightened up, kicked her train into the air with her heel, caught it deftly in her hand, and marched briskly out. | 06 i f o0lf b‘? sy el b We visited the picture galleries and the other regulation ¢sights’ of Milan—not because I wanted to write about them b I put e again, but to see if I had learned anything in twelve years, Il e afterwards visited the great galleries of Rome and Florence for It the same purpose. I found I had learned one thing. When T wrote about the Old Masters before, I said the copies wera better than the originals. That was a mistake of large dimen- sions, The Old Masters were still unpleasing to me, but they were truly divine contrasted with the copies. The copy is to 0} \ al the original as the pallid, smart, inane new waxwork group is to the vigorous, earnest, dignified group of living men and women whom it professes to duplicate. There is a mellow richness, a 0 { subdued colour, in the old pictures, which is to the eye what muflled and mellowed sound is to the ear. That is the merit which is most Joudly praised in the old picture, and is the one away which the copy most conspicuously lacks, and which the copyist la must not hope to compass. It was generally conceded by ‘the i tf artists with whom I talked, that that subdued splendour, that i I mellow richness, is imparted to the picture by age. Then why anld Ty should we worship the Old Master for it, who didn’t impart it, Vo instead of worshipping Old Time, who did? Perhaps the pic- 18 ture was a clanging bell until Time muffled it and sweetened it. 14 W [gh oy iy In conversation with an artist in Venice, I asked— : :pécti\'s ¢ What is it that people see in the Old Masters? I have 06 Womgy been in the Doges’ Palace, and I saw several acres of very bad a uy drawing, very bad perspective, and very incorrect proportions, s, Uty ol "k"le i1 Paul Veronese’s dogs do not resemble dogs; all the horses look like bladders on legs; one man had a right leg on the left side of y “}HCh (V) his body ; in the large picture, where the Emperor (Barbarossa ?) is prostrate before the Pope, there are three men in the fore- e ]more & ground who are over thirty feet high, if one may judge by the L) g @ yh, size of a kneeling little boy in the centre of the foreground ; and I U ply according to the same scale, the Pop e is seven feet high, and the Tia Wi iy Doge is a shrivelled dwarf of four fe et.’ Yigh e (o3¢ A TRAMP ABROAD, Qthg E()kmnd The artist said— Pl o Tv Qo 14 ¢ Yes, the Old Masters often drew badl y; they did not care (e ol much for truth and exactness in minor de tails. But, after all, in spite of bad drawing, bad perspective, bad prop ortions, and a choice of subjects which no longer appeal i y dl to people as strongly as ’\M 0 [y they did three hundred years ago, there is a something about their g pictures which is divine—a something which is above and be- yond the art of any epoch since —a something which would be the despair of artists, but that they never ho pe or expect to attain it, and therefore do not worry about it.’ That is what he said—and hLe said what he beli eved; and not only believed, but felt. 1 va) —must be put aside in cases of this kind. Reasoning—especially reasoning without technical knowledge It cannot assist the inquirer. 1t will lead him, in the most logical progression, to what, in the eyes of artists, would be a most illogical conclusion. Thus, bad drawing, bad proportion, bad perspective, indiffer- ence to truthful detail, colour which gets its merit from time, and 10 g, oo not from the artist—these things constitute the Old Master ; con- clusion, the Old Master was a bad painter, the Old Master was f( Tk m IL o not an Old Master at all, but an Old Apprentice. Your friend N 4 the artist will grant your premises, but deny your conclusion ; am he will maintain that notwithstanding this™ formidable list of efe confessed defects, there is still a something that is divine and unapproachable about the Old Master, and that there is no 18, and arguing the fact away by any system of reasoning whatever. I can believe that. There are women who have an indefin- able charm in their faces which makes them beautiful to their intimates; buta cold stranger who tried to reason the matter out and find this beauty would fail. He would say of one of these women : ‘This chin is too short, this nose is too long, this fore- head is too high, this hair is too red, this complexion is too 110 pallid, the perspective of the entire composition is incorrect; conclusion, the woman is not beautiful.’ But her nearest friend 11 ld might say, and say truly, ¢ Your premises are right, your logic is faultless, but your conclusion is wrong, nevertheless ; she isan Old Master—she is beautiful, but only to such as know her; it COITEC al t same.’ is a beauty which cannot be formulated, but it is there just the Je 0D I found more pleasure in contemplating the Old Masters this Aneror nt time than I did when I was in Turope in former years, but still p el . it was a calm pleasure ; there was nothing over-heated about o WAJ ) udse Q": i it. When I was in Venice before, I think I found no picture he for { 0, b il r;dfi Whi“f}} stirred me much ; but this time there were two which ) foet bt LY A TRAMP ABROAD. 290 o Noj gt enticed me to the Doge’s palace day after day, and kept me there ot 3 hours at a time. One of these was Tintoretto’s three-acre picture il 1Ty in the Great Council Chamber. When I saw it twelve yearsago e 08 feh ol T was not strongly attracted to it—the guide told me it was an fkel insurrection in heaven—but this was an error. BASS 3% — i 80 g supelf The movement of this great work is very fine. There are ny ten thousand figures, and they are all doing something. There Ong i Jost 1 Some of the h‘nameplanuingn is a wonderful ‘go’ to the whole composition. perer SIS figures are diving headlong down, with clasped hands, others are it ok B nob € swimming through the cloud-shoals—some on their faces, some At andel on their backs—great processions of bishops, martyrs, and angels E" et LT are pouring swiftly centrewards from various outlying directions 1! —everywhere is enthusiastic joy, there is rushing movement everywhere. There are fifteen or twenty figures scattered here [if¢ and there with books, but they cannot keep their attention on 118, Al their reading—they offer the books to others, but no one wishes to read now. The Lion of St. Mark is there, with his book; 01 St. Mark is there, with his pen uplifted ; he and the Lion are At looking each other earnestly in the face, disputing about the way O Y to spell a word—the Lion looks up in wrapt admiration while St. Mark spells. This is wonderfully interpreted by the artist. It It is the master-stroke of this incomparable painting. I visited the place daily and never grew tired of looking at , DAl that grand picture. AsI have intimated, the movement is almost \em unimaginably vigorous ; the figures are singing, hosannahing, and au 7l j many are blowing trumpets. So vividly is noise suggested, that fotle spectators who become absorbed in the picture almost always o fall to shouting comments in each other’s ears, making ear- f»l 0 I I8 trumpets of their curved hands, fearing they may not otherwise o be heard. One often sees a tourist, with the eloquent tears pour- ing down his cheels, funnel his hands at his wife’s ear, and hears e A him roar through them, ¢ O to be there and at rest !’ h al None but the supremely great in art can produce effects like these with the silent brush. g 0 tum 18 0 Twelve years ago I could not have appreciated this picture. One year ago I could not have appreciated it. 1h 2w | My study of art I Ll he the il in Heidelberg has been a noble education to me. All that T am to-day in art I owe to that. Vet g 5 fle tr@able B dhoy The other great work which fascinated me was Bassano’s immortal Hair Trunk. This is in the Chamber of the Council e oy bend of Ten. i fltt( It is in one of the three forty-foot pictures which decorate the walls of the room. The composition of this picture ey upon fi is beyond praise. The Hair Trunk is not hurled at the stranger’s Bl gy 8 ey head—so to speak—as the chief feature of an immortal work so My 10 ofhey ' Vg o A TRAMP ABROAD. 291 d P the S‘three. often is. Noj it is carefully guarded from prominence, it is e pimm subordinated, it is restrained, it is most deftly and cleverly held 1 e e g e lt Waflél in reserve, it is most cautiously and ingeniously led up to, by \ the master, and consequently when the spectator reaches it at last, he is taken unawares, he is unprepared, and it bursts upon 7 e, Ty, him with a stupefying surprise. :son‘.»ethéng. Thw One is lost in wonder at all the thought and care which this e i fy "d Lfl“C 0 e elaborate planning must have cost. A general glance at the picture could never suggest that there was a hair trunk in it; the Hair 0D ther fag Trunk is not mentioned in the title even, which is, ¢Pope | umrgfi, wdz Alexander III. and the Doge Ziani, the Conqueror of the ity ¢ dis Emperor Frederick Barbarossa.” You see the title is actually Oveme; utilised to help divert attention from the trunk; thus, as I say, il foe b nothing suggests the presence of the trunk by any hint, yet ¢ Let us ex- everything studiedly leads up to it, step by step. 1001 amine into this, and observe the exquisite artful artlessness of W the plan. At the extreme left end of the picture are a couple of women, one of them with a child looking over her shoulder at a wounded ad man sitting with bandaged head on the ground. These people oreted by ¢ seem needless; bub no, they are there for a purpose. One cannot 1l P look at them without seeing the gorgeous procession of gran- W U réd 0f dees, bishops, halberdiers, and banner-bearers which is passing € I along behind them. One cannot see the procession without feeling a curiosity to follow it and learn whither it is going. It leads him to the Pope in the centre of the picture, who is talking with the bonnetless Doge—talking tranquilly, too, although within twelve it feet of them a man is beating a drum, and not far from the il ay 00 drummer two persons are blowing horns, and many horsemen e e enf are plunging and rioting about—indeed, twenty-two feet of this ar great work 1s all a deep and happy holiday serenity and Sunday- g WUE % ot rest? school procession, and then we come suddenly upon eleven and a gl half feet of turmoil, and racket, and insubordination. This p pofuce But latter state of things is not an accident, it has its purpose. for it, one would linger upon the Pope and the Doge, thinking nrecia fed i them to be the motive and supreme feature of the picture; it Ny S whereas one is drawn along, almost unconsciously, to see what 16 4 the trouble is about. Now at the very end of this riot, within four feet of the end of the picture, and full thirty-six feet from the 4 me M beginning of it, the Hair Trunk bursts with an electrifying sud- amOex of denness upon the spectator, in all its matchless perfection, and foob PIML the great master’s triumph is sweeping and complete. From that qton i moment no other thing in those forty feet of canvas has any ol 0 it i e | charm. One sees the Hair Trunk and the Hair Trunk only— nl e U2 292 A IRAMP ABROAD. a and to see it is to worship it. Bassano even placed objects in the e st immediate vicinity of the supreme feature whose pretended pur- Luhdffli’flu pose was to divert attention from it yet a little longer, and thus o fnt $10K J el ne delay and augment the surprise; for instance, to the right of it he has placed a stooping man, with a cap so red that it is sure ! mpflfl?m‘ to hold the eye for a moment—to the left of it, some six feet 1l Jory o 106S] 1o ¢ away, he has placed a red-coated man on an inflated horse, and he Harr that coat plucks your eye to that locality the next moment. ppoact Then, between the trunk and the red horseman, he has intruded liy o B a man, naked to his waist, who is carrying a fancy flour-sack I on the middle of his back, instead of on his shoulder—this have jttmo’ admirable feat interests you, of course—keeps you at bay a little he longer, like a sock or a jacket thrown to the pursuing wolf—but 6 W at last, in spite of all distractions and detentions, the eye of even 097! du the most dull and heedless spectator is sure to fall upon the world’s masterpiece, and in that moment he totters to his chair IDeI] or leans upon his guide for support. 19| Descriptions of such a work as this must necessarily be im- perfect, yet they are of value. The top of the Trunk is arched ; the arch is a perfect half-circle, in the Roman style of archi- tecture, for in the then rapid decadence of Greek art the rising influence of Rome was already beginning to be felt in the art of The Trunk is bound or bordered with leather all 4 the Republic. 1§ | around where the lid joins the main body. Many critics consider I all this leather too cold in tone; but I consider this its highest I I b }]43 i ! : merit, since it was evidently made so to emphasise by contrast bul A { ir.;; '”ajl of 0 the impassioned fervour of the hasp. The high lights in this bl s Jin) ; part of the work are cleverly managed, the motif is admirably confug I subordinated to the ground tints, and the technique is very fine. (ISt Q The brass nail-heads are in the purest style of the early Renais- ‘E sance. , 01 The strokes here are very firm and bold—every nail- [ the ¢ head is a portrait. The handle on the end of the trunk has evidently been retouched—I think, with a piece of chalk—but I G reg one can still see the inspiration of the Old Master in the tranquil, almost too tranquil, hang of it. The hair of this trunk is real g, trangy hair—so to speak—white in patches, brown in patches. The My i { ls‘fgt i Srest g details are finely worked out; the repose proper to hair in a recumbent and inactive attitude is charmingly expressed. There f 1 Ty is a feeling about this part of the work which lifts it to the hat i Wi Glffic highest altitudes of art; the sense of sordid realism vanishes 181 g ity away—one recognises that there is soul here. View this Trunk ot o In Some of as you will, it is a gem, it is a marvel, it is a miracle. i haVe the effects are very daring, approaching even to the boldest Dat L of} flights of the rococo, the sirocco, and the Byzantine schools—yet g l Mty |y th gy L g i A TRAMP ABROAD. 293 e oy oo | I eflded e the master’s hand never falters—it moves on, calm, majestic, b long h and L confident—and with that art which conceals art, it finally casts y 1 ELHH[ [ over the fout ensemble, by mysterious methods of its own, a 0 b subtle something which refines, subdues, etherealises the arid components, and endues them with the deep charm and gracious it s i fee; Infted o g witchery of poesy. 16 eyt g Among the art-treasures of Europe there are pictures which 0, b b Il approach the Hair Trunk—there are two which may be said to equal it, possibly—but there is none that surpasses it. So 4 f”ancy fl bis shoul perfect is the Hair Trunk that it moves even persons who ordinarily have no feeling for art. When an Erie baggage- Joust by master saw it two years ago, he could hardly keep from checking Usting ) 1 e ey of a{ it; and once when a customs inspector was brought into its presence, he gazed upon it in silent rapture for some moments, 6 10 bll won fottes o then slowly and unconsciously placed one hand behind him with the palm uppermost, and got out his chalk with the other, These facts speak for themselves. necessaily b e T style o art ¢ CHAPTER XLIX. e felt n thean red ith l There OnE lingers about the Cathedral a good deal, in Venice. any Cr I is a strong fascination about it—partly because it is so old, and e fis if g i partly because it is so ugly. Two many of the world’s famous DASL by o buildings fail of one chief virtue—harmony; they are made up il of a methodless mixture of the ugly and the beautiful; this is One has a sense of {in- bad ; it is confusing, it is unrestful. 15 Vel T easiness, of distress, without knowing why. But one is calm ! before St. Mark, one is calm within it, one would be calm on top d of it, calm in the cellar; for its details are masterfully ugly, no L.i'l_eV'Er‘V‘ i i misplaced and impertinent beauties are intruded anywhere ; and d of the ¥ e OF (AN the consequent result is a grand harmonious whole, of soothing, e entrancing, tranquillising, soul-satisfying ugliness. One’s ad- 71 [ this mlflL miration ot a perfect thing always grows, never declines; and this is the surest evidence to him that it zs perfect. St. Mark is 1 in i perfect. mper 10 To me it soon grew to be so nobly, so augustly ugly, that it was difficult to stay away from it, even for a little while. 7 6] eSS Every time its squat domes disappeared from my view, I had a fl ioh It g i 0 despondent feeling whenever they reappeared, I felt an honest ] el l) rapture—I have not known any happier hours than those I daily Tiew B spent in front of Florian’s, looking across the Great Square at it. il Propped on its long row of low thick-legged columns, its back en ! i knobbed with domes, it seemed like a vast warty bug taking a pfie g meditative walk. 294 A TRAMP ABROAD. St. Mark is not the oldest building in the world, of course; s dfldl‘flna but it seems the oldest, and looks the oldest—especially inside. When the ancient mosaics in its walls become damaged they are 17l sl s (pe conf repaired, but not altered; the grotesque old pattern is preserved. f mdflfl el Antiquity has a charm of its own, and to smarten it up would only damage it. One day I was sitting on a red marble bench in If td Ofifl a0 jrogh 1 the vestibule, looking up at an ancient piece of apprentice-work yhich 08 in mosaic, illustrative of the command to ¢ multiply and replenish [0S i the earth. The cathedral itself had seemed very old: but this fpsfore U i of n0ve 1, picture was illustrating a period in history which made the build- ing seem young by comparison. But I presently found an antique (onieD which was older than either the battered cathedral or the date e e T p ould assigned to that piece of history: it was a spiral-shaped fossil as large as the crown of a hat. It was embedded in the marble e Wa bench, and had been sat upon by tourists until it was worn 76 SOIE smooth. Contrasted with the inconceivable antiquity of this modest fossil, those other things were flippantly modern, jejune, 110 y dl mere matters of day-before-yesterday. The sense of the oldness of the cathedral vanished away under the influence of this truly venerable presence. St. Mark’s is monumental. Itisan imperishable remembrancer of the profound and simple piety of the Middle Ages. Whoever oy could ravish a column from a Pagan temple did it, and contributed (rioni his swag to this Christian one. So this fane is upheld by several =i Touncle hundred acquisitions procured in that peculiar way. In our day il it would be immoral to go on the highway to get bricks for a (E101 2 06 (] church, but it was no sin in the old times. St. Mark’s was itself EF;&E{CE. the victim of a curious robbery once. The thing is set down tiomg Ve in the history of Venice; but it might be smuggled into the 0 gt ol ¢ Arabian Nights,” and not seem out of place there. P g Nearly four hundred and fifty years ago, a Candian named ataf’: vl Stammato, in the suite of a Prince of the House of Este, was allowed to view the riches of St. Mark. 1 etgg o His sinful eye was e gy, dazzled, and he hid himself behind an altar with an evil purpose gy in his heart; but a priest discovered him, and turned him out. Tl by Cha Afterwards he got in again, by false keys this time. He went ot ay there night after night, and worked hard and patiently all alone, 111 t bl overcoming difficulty after difficulty with his toil, and at last aCCllga)medm A Uty succeeded in removing a great block of the marble panelling Tiegy which walled the lower part of the treasury. This block he fixed i so that he could take it out and put it in at will. After that, for gy ey weeks he spent all his midnights in his magnificent mine, inspect- ey ing it in_security, gloating over its marvels at his leisure, and oy, g shay Hmlld da h always slipping back to his obscure lodgings before dawn with a O g A TRAMP ABROAD. 29. o, of )0 () duke’s ransom under his cloak. ety gy He did not need to grab hap- A6 hazard, and run; there was no hurry. He could make deliberate tm iy ity and well-considered selections. He could consult his esthetic v Peseryl, Ien | g tastes. One comprehends how undisturbed he was, and how safe | from any danger of interruption, when it is stated that he even ‘ Dartl ey n carried off a unicorn’s horn—a mere curiosity—which would not S1Dtents pass through the egress entire, but had to be sawn in two—a bit lyand Tl of work which cost him hours of tedious labour. He continued 1y old: to store up his treasures at home until his occupation lost the hflmade {hehul, charm of novelty, and became monotonous; then he ceased from g alipy it, contented. Well he might be; for his collection, raised to €t orthg aped ol modern values, represented nearly 50,000,000 dols. ! ' He could have gone home much the richest citizen of his I the marf country, and it might have been years before the plunder was It 1 was o missed, but he was human : he could not enjoy his delight alone, afiquy of he must have somebody to talk about it with. So he exacted a solemn oath from a Candian noble named Crioni, then led him ense of the g Iy noden, je;une. to his lodgings, and nearly took his breath away with a sight e of thi of his glittering hoard. He detected a look in his friend’s face which excited his suspicion, and was about to slip a stiletto into e bl o remembra him, when Crioni saved himself by explaining that that look was Aggs, | only an expression of supreme and happy astonishment. Stam- i and mato made Crioni a present of one of the State’s principal jewels el / KT —a huge carbuncle, which afterwards figured in the ducal cap of state; and the pair parted. Crioni went at once to the palace, way. Dowdy = ' o et rick 0 “, denounced the criminal, and handed over the carbuncle as , Mark's wasied evidence. Stammato was arrested, tried, and condemned, with the old-time Venetian promptness. He was hanged between the fing i 4 6 gl 0 two great columns in the Piazza with a gilded rope, out of com- pliment to his love of gold perhaps. He got no good of his booty 1616 at all; it was all recovered. Jouse 0 4 Cand‘ian nfl!flfl In Venice we had a luxury which very seldom fell to our lot on the Continent—a home dinner with a private family. If one i o ™ if hanerd i could always stop with private families when travelling, Europe o would have a charm which it now lacks. As it is, one must live d fur 16l 1 — in the hotels of course, and that is a sorrowful business. A man 1§ L i 06 o enfly a8 accustomed to American food and American domestic cookery would atl not starve to death suddenly in Europe, but I think he would gradu- g fol, @ pantle 22 ally waste and eventually die. He would have to do without his fo1s accustomed morning meal. That is too formidable a change al- hig b together, he would necessarily suffer from it. He could get the i ) shadow, the sham, the base counterfeit of that meal; but that i it ¢ y would do him no good, and money could not buy the reality. f s Ju To particularise: the average American’s simplest and com= g™ 'efbfe 296 A TRAMP ABROAD. fere 5 n 10 monest form of breakfast consists of coffee and beefsteak ; well, pethe! in Europe, coffee is an unknown beverage. You can get what i om0 the European hotel keeper thinks is coffee, but it resembles the et d] h )l pel‘ g st real thing as hypocrisy resembles holiness. It is a feeble, charac- f and 8 s terless, uninspiring sort of stuff, and almost as undrinkable as if o it had been made in an American hotel. The milk used for it is ( hich L Iy 06 what the French call ¢Christian’ milk—milk which has been ut 0 baptised. el he bOY After a few months’ acquaintance with European ¢coffee, pronsy WS one’s mind weakens, and his faith with it, and he begins to won- = il ad a g 1 ‘Y .There i b der if the rich beverage of home, with its clotted layer of yellow i3 cream on top of it, is not a mere dream after all, and a thing I ¢! et which never existed. i 3 Next comes the Kuropean bread—fair enough, good enough, il 16 U I I 0 after a fashion, but cold; cold and tough, and unsympathetic; and never any change, never any variety—always the same tire- yarl some thing. Next, the butter—the sham and tasteless butter ; no salt in of it, and made of goodness knows what. { ab Then, there is the beefsteak. They have it in Europe, but 1 il ) they don’t know how to cook it. Neither will they cut it right. 00 toey qon't b It comes on the table in a small round pewter platter. It lies in (l the centre of this platter, in a bordering bed of grease-scaked et Nowava potatoes ; it is the size, shape, and thickness of a man’s hand with b the thumb and fingers cut off. It is a little overdone, is rather dry, it tastes pretty insipidly, it rouses no enthusiasm. 10 0 10 Imagine a poor exile contemplating that inert thing; and (& imagine an angel suddenly sweeping down out of a better land ‘aad A and setting before him a mighty porter-house steak an inch and D {eharacter a half thick, hot and spluttering from the griddle; dusted with fragrant pepper; enriched with little melting bits of butter R Toution of the most unimpeachable freshness and genuineness; the pre- i 5, cious juices of the meat trickling out and joining the gravy, archipelagoed with mushrooms; a township or two of tender 4y g, 0 g (e yellow fat gracing an outlying district of this ample county of beefsteak ; the long white bone which divides the sirloin from o il 08 chl the tender loin still in its place; and imagine that the angel also ) adds a great cup of American home-made coffee, with the cream s At tn‘ad eae] a-froth on top, some real butter, firm and yellow and fresh, some Sray] smoking hot biscuits, a plate of hot buckwheat cakes, with trans- O0gfyeg { it parent syrup—would words describe the gratitude of this exile ? deamage T 8 thw The European dinner is better than the European breakfast, fape Y g but it has its faults and inferiorities, it does not satisfy. e lolerably B e comes to the table eager and hungry he swallows his soup— By oy Ugh A (ng im‘, ! A TRAMP ABROAD. 297 _buefgteak el Mey y there is an undefinable lack about it somewhere ; thinks the fish vyt is going to be the thing he wants—eats it and isn’t sure; thinks the 1 e ty 4 foo It next dish is perhaps the one that will hit the hungry place—tries ng it, and is conscious that there was a something wanting about it also. Wl fr And thus he goes on, from dish to dish, like a boy after a butterfly which just misses getting caught every time it alights, Whigh I . but somehow doesn’t get caught after all; and at the end the u\‘PEfifl ‘y exile and the boy have fared about alike: the one is full, but Deoing fy grievously unsatisfied, the other has had plenty of exercise, plenty of interest, and a fine lot of hopes, but he hasn’t got any butter- ‘: et o I yelop 2 fly. There is here and there an American who will say he can [, iy i remember rising from an European table d’h6te perfectly satis- fied; but we must not overlook the fact, that there is also here ey M o and thers an American who will lie. Al The number of dishes is sufficient; but then it is such a 478 Ihh!flu i) It is an inane dead monotonous variety of wunstriking dishes. ; level of ¢ fair-to-middling. There is nothing to accent it. Per- Dutters 1) 10 M haps if the roast of mutton or of beef—a big generous one—were brought on the table and carved in full view of the client, that f 1n Buropg E might give the right sense of earnestness and reality to the thing; ey cub i = but they don’t do that, they pass the sliced meat around on a m';t'er. I i P dish, and so you are perfectly calm, it does not stir you in the ] of grease least. Now a vast roast turkey, stretched on the broad of his aman's han back, with his heels in the air, and the rich juices oozing from or?:‘don his fat sides . . but I may as well as stop there, for they would s not know how to cook him. They can’t even cook a chicken o respectably ; and as for carving it, they do that with a hatchet. fa This is about the customary table d’hote bill in summer :— A bl Soup (characterless). iddle Tish—sole, salmon, or whiting—usually tolerably good. pbi Roast—mutton or Leef—tasteless—and some last year’s po- tatoes. A phte, or some other made-dish—usually good ¢ considering.’ J ning {he g0 0 One vegetable—brought on in state, and all alone—usually or y ample 0 insipid lentils, or string beans, or indifferent asparagus. g the 8 Roast chicken, as tasteless as paper. Lettuce-salad—tolerably good. that 8 3 e L Decayed strawberries or cherries. Sometimes the apricots and figs are fresh, but this is no W and advantage, as these fruits are of no account anyway. aky ™ The grapes are generally good, and sometimes there is a et 058 it ; """" tolerably good peach, by mistake. ropeAl The variations of the ahove bill are trifling. After a fort- b gl 4 B night one discovers that the variations are only apparent, not s Jis & 298 A TRAMP ABROAD. e real; in the third week you get what you had the first, and in Jore) Three or p (21 0}' th the fourth week you get what you had the second. [ il four months of this weary sameness will kill the robustest fhe S0t appetite. fler i four Man It has now been many months, at the present writing, since I 7) have had a nourishing meal, but Ishall soon have one—a modest, Jil 1) neab private affair, all to myself. I have selected a few dishes, and s mef Wl il made out a little bill of fare, which will go home in the steamer I that precedes me, and be hot when I arrive—as follows :— Pl Tucn Radishes. Bakedapples, with cream. Prairie hens, from Illinois. Fried oysters; stewed oysters. I'rogs. Missouri partridges, broiled. (f bui & American coffee, with real cream. ’Possum. Coon. i 110 06 U American butter. Boston bacon and beans. i Fried chicken, Southern style. Bacon and greens, Southern style. Porter-house steak. Hominy. Boiled onions. Turnips. Saratago potatoes. Pumpkin. Squash. Asparagus. i ool of o1 | Broiled chicken, American style. Butter beans. Sweet potatoes. 4 quAIte Lettuce. Succotash. Hot biscuits, Southern style. String beans. i {06 (] Hot wheat-bread, Southern style. Mashed potatoes. Catsup. 4 Hot buckwheat cakes. Boiled potatoes, in their skins. American toast. Clear maple syrup. New potatoes, minus their skins. (3 Virginia bacon, broiled. Early rose potatoes roasted in the 1 (one, Blue points, on the half shell. ashes, Southern style, served hot. 4y I Cherry-stone clams. Sliced tomatoes, with sugar or vine- ; I ) B \o by San Francisco mussels, steamed. gar, Stewed tomatoes. Oyster soup. Clam soup. Green corn, cut from the ear, and It bas been notce Philadelphia Terapin soup. served with butter and pepper. ke, Oysters roasted in shell—Northern Green corn, on the ear. shad. Hot with i Soft-shelled style. corn-pone, chitlings, i crabs. Connecticut Southern styles K¢ Baltimore perch. Hot hoe-cake, Southern style. it ( Brook trout, from Sierra Nevadas. Hot egg-bread, Southern style. Lake trout, from Tahoe. Hot light-bread, Southern style. Sheep-head and croakers, from New Buttermilk. Iced sweet milk, i 1 Orleans. Apple dumplings, with real cream. il i 14 ¢ Black bass from the Mississippi. Apple pie. Apple fritters, T, Congty American roast beef, Apple puffs, Southern style. Roast turkey, Thanksgiving style. Peach cobbler, Southern style. if g 1 Cranberry sauce. Celery. Peach pie. American mince pie. e ia_:ewi:h thveg | Roast wild turkey. Woodcock. Pumpkin pie. Squash pie. W Orle Canvas-back-duck, from Baltimore. All gorts of American pastry. Place Al it Fresh American fruits of all sorts, including strawberries, which are 2 ey not to be doled out as if they were jewellery, but in a more liberal way. Tce-water—not prepared in the ineffectual goblet, but in the sincere and capable refrigerator, Take A bflnel Americans intending to spend a year or so in European Ty ang Y hotels will do well to copy this bill and carry it along. They of " Gy will find it an excellent thing to get up an appetite with, in the gy dispiriting presence of the squalid table d’hote. Ui 4 t e the 1 sy A TRAMP ABROAD. 299 e fy ) ajj nd, 1 Iy Foreigners cannot enjoy our food, I suppose, any more than we can enjoy theirs. It 1s not strange ; for tastes are made, not Wby born. I might glorify my bill of fare until T was tired ; but : \\'riting’ ] after all, the Scotchman would shake his head and say, ¢ Where’s our haggis ?” and the Fijian would sigh and say, ¢ Where's your W ‘ f&W dl:h&\ aud missionary ?’ It I have a neat talent in matters pertaining to nourishment. L '%e Sty This has met with professional recognition. I have often fur- Here are some designs for pies n[l nished recipes for cook-books. and things which I recently prepared for a friend’s projected cook-book, but as T forgot to furnish diagrams and perspectives, they had to be left out, of course:— Recipe for an Ash-cake. Take a lot of water and add to it a lot of coarse Indian meal and about a quarter of a lot of salt. Mix well together, knead ALk, into the form of a ¢ pone,” and let the pone stand awhile—not on its edge, but the other way. Rake away a place among the embers, lay it there, and cover it an inch deep with hot ashes. When it is done, remove it; blow off all the ashes but one fil, layer ; butter that one and eat. N.B. No household should ever be without this talisman. tor i Tt has been noticed that tramps never return for another ash- cake. ¢ and e {0 ¢ar, Recipe of New England Pie. g with b s} To make this excellent breakfast dish, proceed as follows:— Take a sufficiency of water and a sufficiency of flour, and con- U e struct a bullet-proof dough. Work this into the form of a disk, g, Sonthe o o with the edges turned up some three-fourths of an inch. Toughen I ot and kiln-dry it a couple of days in a mild but unvarying tempe- Dfu b 1l (s rature. Construct a cover for this redoubt in the same way and ppl frers g of the same material. Fill with stewed dried apples; aggra- vate with cloves, lemon peel, and slabs of citron; add two por- , e ;t.;lfv, e B tions of New Orleans sugar, then solder on the lid and set in a quas i I safe place till it petrifies. Serve cold at breakfast and invite s o your enemy. fo e Recipe for German Coffee. el 1 ol ubint o™ Take a barrel of water and bring it to a boil ; rub a chicory berry against a coffee berry, then convey the former into the water. Continue the boiling and evaporation until the intensity g 10 ] « of the flavour and aroma of the coffee and chicory has been ylt o diminished to a proper degree; then set aside to cool. Now AL 8 unharness the remains of a once cow from the plough, insert them ir: a hydraulic press, and when you shall have acquired a 300 A TRAMP ABROAD. el 19 teaspoonful of that pale blue juice which a German superstition is regards as milk, modify the malignity of its strength in a bucket g n o8 : of tepid water and ring up the breakfast. Mix the beverage in iufirfll’mEu b3 a cold cup, partake with moderation, and keep a wet rag around your head to guard against over-excitement. ]l fe 10 ufon ] eoul il To Carve Fowls in the German Fashion. A Al Use a club, and avoid the joints. W CHAPTER L, 1 4 068 I woxpEr why some things are? For instance, Art is allowed as much indecent license to-day as in earlier times; but the | are privileges of Literature in this respect have been sharply curtailed within the past eighty or ninety years. Fielding and Smollett could portray the beastliness of their day in the beastliest D language ; we have plenty of foul subjects to deal with in our day, but we are not allowed to approach them very near, even 100 with nice and guarded forms of speech. But not so with Art. 1t Gl I The brush may still deal freely with any subject, however 4l revolting or indelicate. ave It makes a body ooze sarcasm at every &0 TERITIng 10, pore, to go about Rome and Florence and see what this last generation has been doing with the statues. These works, g e (Amg 0r which had stood in innocent nakedness for ages, are all fig-leaved now. Yes, every one of them. Nobody noticed their nakedness ) e before, perhaps; nobody can help noticing it now, the fig-leaf Ll { gt out g U O makes it so conspicuous. But the comical thing about it all is, (nva that the fig-leaf is confined to cold and pallid marble, which m il fon would be still cold and unsuggestive without this sham and or ostentatious symbol of modesty, whereas warm-blooded paintings which do really need it have in no case been furnished with it. At the door of the Ufizzi, in Florence, one is confronted by statues of a man and a woman, noseless, battered, black with 5§l 00X accumulated grime—they hardly suggest human beings—yet tflf&? fl{’i {le, these ridiculous creatures have been thoughtfully and consci- RALIE entiously fig-leaved by this fastidious generation. You enter, L] 4% fag and proceed to that most-visited little gallery that exists in the N0f th ] world—the Tribune—and there, against the wall, without ob- L gy Visitoy [ structing rag or leaf, you may look your fill upon the foulest, Uley Wiy tAke ; the vilest, the obscenest picture the world possesses—Titian’s [ty e gy Venus, Itisn't that she is naked and stretched out on a bed ; no, it is the attitude of one of her arms and hand. If I ventured - o % by, { Mg ) to describe that attitude, there would be a fine howl ; but there l . gy the Venus lies, for anybody to gloat over that wants to; and il thld] ) 10U gy With()“ ! WSEI'VQ A TRAMP ABROAD,. 301 Tty there she has a right to lie, for she is a work of art, and Art has th 02 gy ety its privileges. I saw young girls stealing furtive glances at her; i I saw young men gaze long and absorbedly at her; I saw aged, Ve oy it infirm men hang upon her charms with a pathetic interest. How I should like to describe her—just to see what a holy indig- him, nation I could stir up in the world—just to hear the unreflecting average man deliver himself about my grossness and coarseness, and all that. The world says that no worded description of a moving spectacle is a hundredth part as moving as the same spectacle seen with one’s own eyes; yet the world is willing to let its son and its daughter and itself look at Titian’s beast, but It dll 0 won’t stand a description of it in words. ‘Which shows that the 0l world is not as consistent as it might be. iy ent] There are pictures of nude women which suggest no impure ng aud Sl ..... thought ; I am well aware of that. I am not railing at such. in fte b What I am trying to emphasise is the fact that Titian’s Venus is dal with i o very far from being one of that sort. Without any question it | VEry near, e was painted for a bagnio, and it was probably refused because it 10t $0 with A, was a trifle too strong. In truth it is too strong for any place but i i1 a public Art Gallery. Titian had two Venuses in the Tribune; subject, how Sarcas at even persons who have seen them will easily remember which one I 68 am referring to. ~a® 5, Thes In every gallery in Europe there are hideous pictures of blood, X! ol carnage, oozing brains, putrefaction—pictures portraying intoler- o their e hel able suffering—pictures alive with every conceivable horror, wrought out in dreadful detail—and similar pictures are being 1o, the put on the canvas every day and publicly exhibited—without a yp gbott i Jid marbl growl from anybody, for they are innocent, they are inoffensive, being works of art. But suppose a literary artist ventured to go i fhis shm Hooded | into a painstaking and elaborate description of one of these grisly things, the critics would skin him alive. Well, let it go, it can- IS It not be helped; Art retains her privileges, Literature has lost ois il ¥ hers. Somebody else may cipher out the whys and the where- fiel?dv fores and the consistencies of it—1I haven’t got time. m an beng Titian’s Venus defiles and disgraces the Tribune, there is no tolly and ¢ softening that fact, but his ¢ Moses’ glorifies it. The simple fon, Tou &5 truthfulness of this noble work wins the heart and the applause {ha f exists e {iId of every visitor, be he learned or ignorant. After wearying yal |, wihov oneself with the acres of stuffy, sappy, expressionless babies that o fhe Jk i populate the canvases of the Old Masters in Italy, it is refreshing N to stand before this peerless child and feel that thrill which tells onf 00 you you are at last in the presence of the real thing. This is a d T human child, this is genuine. You have seen him a thousand f e times—you have seen him just as he is here—and you confess, porl; D gl The doll-faces of ¢ s without reserve, that Titian was a Master. 302 A TRAMP ABROAD. other painted babes may mean one thing, they may mean another, but with the ¢ Moses’ the case is different. The most famous of all the art critics has said, ¢ There is no room for doubt here— plainly this child is in trouble.’ I consider that the ¢ Moses’ has no equal among the works of the Old Masters, except it be the divine Hair Trunk of Bassano. Nothing I feel sure that if all the other Old Masters were lost and only these two preserved, the world would be the gainer by it. My sole purpose in going to Florence was to see this immortal ¢ Moses,” and by good fortune I was just in time, for they were already preparing to remove it to a more private and better-pro- tected place, because a fashion of robbing the great galleries was prevailing in Europe at the time. I got a capable artist to copy the picture; Pannemaker, the Quip K engraver of Doré’s books, engraved it for me. el Hfm { We took a turn to Rome and some other Italian cities; then ! e )i ;»wfs, m to Munich, and thence to Paris, partly for exercise, but mainly Joed because these things were in our projected programme, and if aeablefogorerm bl was only right that we should be faithful to it. I From Paris I branched out and walked through Holland and Ayr‘ri ahout Belgium, procuring an occasional lift by rail or canal when tired, Invention, & IO I worked iy and I had a tolerably good time of it ‘by and large.’ Spain and otherregionsthrough agents, to save time and shoeleather. lts (i We crossed to England, and then made the homeward passage infimg of trouble in the Cunarder °Gallia,’ a very fine ship. I was glad to get budlrd e home—immeasurably glad ; so glad, in fact, that it did not seem isseldom; possible that anything could ever get me out of the country doathome, you ¢ again. I had not enjoyed a pleasure abroad which secemed to me el etk to compare with the pleasure I felt in seeing New York harbour olnow ¢ lare=Be again. Europe has many advantages which we have not, but they do not compensate for a good many still more valuable sn o v 0 ones which exist nowhere but in our own country. Then we are 46 mayor bgg Jem such a homeless lot when we are over there! So are Europeans 0 themselves, for that matter. They live in dark and chilly vast inis or gl To be h the ]:T'L' \ n tombs, costly enough, may be, but without conveniences. O tg ) i L i3 I 8 qf condemned to live as the average European family lives would gt make life a pretty heavy burden to the average American family. 0%, aud iy On the whole, I think that short visits to Hurope are better U 8y for us than long ones. The former preserve us from becoming Sl vy Europeanised ; they keep our pride of country intact, and at by h& Ty of the same time they intensify our affection for our country and Lext mflmlnv our people; whereas long visits have the effect of dulling those Vo] 0 feelings, at least in the majority of cases. I think that one who Wean g (eneg by mixes much with Americans long resident abroad must arrive at W this conclusion. Uiy e]ill]a L1 frp) \l ety b, AT fam i f 08 o il APPENDIX. g ey il AN ! a il Nothing gives such weight and dignity to a book as an Appendix. i) Herodotus. g, for IhE’V "yfié e and bty NPT A T allre vy THE PORTIER. Punemaly OmAR KHAYAM, the poet-prophet of Persia, writing more than eight a1 (] hundred years ago, has said : In the four parts of the earth are many that are able to write ¢, bif learned books, many that are able to lead armies, and many also that are able to govern kingdoms and empires; but few there be that can e, ad keep hotel. A word about the European hotel portier. He is a most admirable ough Holandul canal when invention, a most valuable convenience. He always wears a con- spicuou s uniform; he can always be found when he is wanted, for he Lo’ 1 sticks cl osely to his post at the front door; he is as polite as a duke; neandshoel s from four to ten languages ; he is your surest help and refuge homerard he speak in time o f trouble or perplexity. He is not the clerk, he is not the Tms g landlord ; he ranks above the clerk, and represents the landlord, who is seldom seen. Imstead of going to the clerk for information, as we do at home, you go to the portier. It is the pride of our average 1 00 10 emd hotel clerk to know nothing whatever; it is the pride of the portier B I to know everything. You ask the portier at what hours the trains S’e\v Yok leave—he tells you instantly ; or you ask him who is the best phy- e hare 1 sician in town or what is the hack tariff; or how many children more T8 the mayo r has; or what days the galleries are open, and whether a Then permit is required, and whe: re you are to get it, and what you must e For ay for it; or when the the atres open and close, what the plays are to ) di or what is the newest thing in hats; or 1k and be, and the price of seats; how the bills of mortality average; or ¢ who struck Billy Patterson.’ el 1t does not matter what you ask him: in nine cases out of ten he fam | knows, and in the tenth case he will find out for you before you can turn around three times. There is nothing he will not put his hand , Ame Fanope to. Suppose you t ell him you wish to go from Hamburg to Peking g by the way of Jericho, and are ignorant of routes and prices—the i o i next morning he will hand you a piece of paper with the whole thing ff ntach 0 worked out on it to the last detail. Before you have been long on our o Turopean soil, you find yourself still saying you are relying on Provi- = {l dence, but when you come to look closer you will see that in reality ik th f i (v}]i.’m“ . you are relying on the portier. He discovers what is puzzling you, or hink st il g What is troubling you, or what your need is, before you can get the 304 A TRAMP ABROAD. half of it out, and he promptly says, ¢ Leave that to me.” Conse- 1ot n anth but quently you easily drift into the habit of leaving everything to him, gl o 0 Y050 There is a certain embarrassment about applying to the average American hotel clerk, a certain hesitancy, a sense of insecurity against i rebuff; but you feel no embarrassment in your intercourse with the pheget 4 portier; he receives your propositions with an enthusiasm which comsequenty cheers, and plunges into their accomplishment with an alacrity which our Toom &0 almost inebriates. The more requirements you can pile upon him, il the better he likes it. Of course the result is that you cease from for Joe- BT aftermards doing anything for yourself. He calls a hack when you want one; 3 {lT puts you into it ; tells the driver whither to take you; receives you thee like a long-lost child when you return ; sends you about your business, and fum~ does all the quarrelling with the hackman himself, and pays him his Boldly p .‘ o money out of his own pocket. He sends for your theatre tickets, and gervants pays for them ; he sends for any possible article you can require, be it |filJ Lare o a doctor, an elephant, or a postage-stamp; and when you leave, at 1 WAL last, you will find a subordinate seated with the cab-driver, who will mle put you in your railway compartment, buy your tickets, have your fone how i baggage weighed, bring you the printed tags, and tell you everything he meantime is in your bill and paid for. At home you get such elaborate, excel- Jonf 7 lent, and willing service as this only in the best hotels of our large ouself cities ; but in Europe you get it in the mere back country towns just I as well. i ‘What is the secret of the portier’s devotion ? It is very simple s renthe he gets fees, and no salary. His fee is pretty closely regulated, too. iog end If you stay a weel in the house, you give him five marks—a dollar Tt and a quarter, or about eighteen cents a day. If youstay a month, I i pay you reduce this average somewhat. If you stay two or three months or longer, you cut it down half, or even more than half, Ukt 158 of If you stay (LR (it only one day, you give the portier a mark. om bo The head waiter’s fee is a shade less than the portier’s; the Boots, who not only blacks your boots and brushes your clothes, but is i ban by £ ¢ usually the porter and handles your baggage, gets a somewhat smaller fee than the head waiter ; the chambermaid’s fee ranks below that of }.\‘Jte the Boots. You fee only these four, and no one else. A German et wd hs gentleman told me that when he remained a weel in an hotel, he gave than 50 {5 fo the portier five marks, the head waiter four, the Boots three, and the chambermaid two; and if he stayed three months he divided ninety a0 When e marks among them, in about the above proportions. N inety marks the g make $22.50. \e Iiht None of these fees are ever paid until you leave the hotel, though 0l th g I¢ it be a year—except one of these four servants should go away in the A0 appory meantime ; in that case he will be sure to come and bid you good-bye Dl 478 ighe and give you the opportunity to pay him what is fairly coming to him. Ut It is considered very bad policy to fee a servant while you are still to Bloisip remain longer in the hotel, because if you gave him too little he &, “’h(\t might neglect you afterwards, and if you gave him too much he might day ‘B ou It is considered best to kee th neglect somebody else to attend to . P gl and t his expectations ‘ on a string ’ until your stay is concluded. S Withoyg 18ty it UUh Jfi - APPENDIX A. 305 ! g Iy Tiking ki I do not know whether hotel servants in New York get any wages 0 fhy ey oy ) or not, but I do know that in some of the hotels there ths feeing system in vogue is a heavy burden. The waiter expects a quarter at oy iy i brealdfast-—and gets it. You have a different waiter at luncheon, and & I 80 he gets a quarter. Your waiter at dinner is another stranger— Llaerty Wi " | consequently he gets a quarter. The boy who carries your satchel to He ey your room and lights your gas, fumbles around and hangs around significantly, and you fee him to get rid of him, Now you may ring Jou B for ice-water; and ten minutes later for a lemonade ; and ten minutes afterwards, for a cigar; and by-and-by for a newspaper—and what is t your by the result? Why, a new boy has appeared every time, and fooled U s iy and fumbled around until you have paid him something. Suppose you boldly put your foot down, and say it is the hotel's business to pay its il lipy servants P—and suppose you stand your ground and stop feeing ? Yow will have to ring your bell ten or fifteen times before you get a servant wyil there ; and when he goes off to fill your order you will grow old and infirm before you see him again, You may struggle nobly for twenty- four hours, may be, if you are an adamantine sort of person, but in the meantime you will have been so wretchedly served, and so insn- oo lently, that you will haul down your colours, and go to impoverishing youself with fees. niry o It seems to me that it would be a happy idea to import the Euro- pean feeing system into America. I believe it would result in getting 18 Very even the bells of the Philadelphia hotels answered, and cheerful ser- a1l vice rendered. The greatest American hotels keep a number of clerks and a cashier, and pay them salaries which mount up to a considerable total in the course of a year. The great Continental hotels keep a cashier on a trifling salary, and a portier who pays the hotel a salary. By the latter system both the hotel and the public save money and are better served than by our system. One of our consuls told me that the dl portier of a great Berlin hotel paid 5,000 a year for his position, and yet cleared $6,000 for himself. The position of portier in the chief below hotels of Saratoga, Long Branch, New York, and similar centres of resort would be one which the holder could afford to pay even more a0l than $5,000 for, perhaps. When we borrowed the feeing fashion from Europe a dozen years g di ago, the salary system ought to have been discontinued, of course. Nine ‘We might make this correction now, I should think. And we might add the portier too. Since I first began to study the portier, I have bo had opportunitiss to observe him in the chief cities of Germany, TRl PO Switzerland, and Ttaly ; and the more I have seen of him the more I id yog T have wished that he might be adopted in America, and become there, e 0o as he is in Europe, the stranger’s guardian angel. you i Yes, what was true eight hundred years ago is just as true to- day: ‘Few there be that can keep hotel” Perhaps it is because the landlords and their subordinates have in too many cases taken up their kb edhgfl“? trade without first learning it. In Europe the trade of hotel-keeper is taught. The apprentice begins at the bottom of the ladder and Il X 806 A TRAMP ABRUAD. lacey fhe be? masters the several grades one after the ot™er, Just as in our country printing-offices the apprentice first learns how to sweep out and hring Jisht from A water; then learns to ‘roll’; then to sort ‘pi’; then to set type; ~ Aninm ot e B and finally rounds and completes his education with job-work and press-work: so the landlord-apprentice serves as call-boy; then as t' it hied 1 under-waiter ; then as a parlour-waiter ; then as head-waiter, in which {he contrary position he often has to make out all the bills; then as clerk or own throug His trade is learned now, and by-and-by he tilight cashier; then as portier, will assume the style and dignity of landlord, and be found conduct- (il ing an hotel of his own. fio(m; fhem Now in Europe, the same as in Arerica, when a man bas kept an b oy hotel so thoroughly well during a number of years as to give it a 1 great reputation, he has his reward. He can live prosperously on that reputation. He can let his hotel run down to the last degree of [0 (U} shabbiness and yet have it full of people all the time. For instance, Tel there is the Hotel de Ville, in Milan, It sswvarms with mice and fleas, and if the rest of the world were destroyed it could furnish dirt enough to start another one with., The food would create an insurrec- tion in a poorhouse ; and yet if you go outside to get your meals that hotel makes up its loss by overcharging you on all sorts of trifles— and without making any denials or excuses about it either. But the Hotel de Ville’s old excellent reputation still keeps its dreary rooms Ao crowded with travellers who would be elsewhere if they had only had i 09 some wise friend to warn them, Wi ¢ These i 1l un of APPENDIX. B, Jears ag,eonl 1o 10F, tw; ITEIDELBERG CASTLE. ii;ubt: and th L) ITrrpELBERG CASTLE must have been very beautiful before the French K battered and bruised and scorched it two hundred years ago. The {he prohabir oy stone is brown, with a pinkish tint, and does not seem to stain easily. The dainty and elaborate ornamentation upon its two chief fronts is ey as delicately carved as if it had been intended for the interior of a Wiete the drawing-room rather than for the outside of a house. and By Many fruit ‘and flower-clusters,human heads, and grim projecting lion’s heads are il % still as perfect in every detail as if they were new. But the statues e hayo B which are ranked between the windows have suffered. These are 1o d}llb .tr 1]' &Il ill I life-size statues of old-time emperors, electors, and similar grandees, clad in mail and bearing ponderous swords. Some have lost an arm, l‘Ope Thfl | some a head, and one poor fellow is chopped off at the middle. There YllldWa \'up 4 is a saying that if a stranger will pass over the drawbridge and walk feat ey Com} across the court to the Castle front without saying anything, he can Bl malke a wish and it will be fulfilled. But they say that the truth of 815l this thing has never had a chance to be proved, for the reason that §ogs ahflut i 00 thet before any stranger can walk from the drawbridge to the appointed llpy proeg 1f APPENDIX B. 307 gy oy Pt} ly place, the beauty of the palace front will extort an exclamation of do- £ {y light from him, ¥ty Ui 1k A ruin must be rightly situated, to be effective. This one could oy, e g not have been better placed. It stands upon a commanding elevation, 0 iy then ® 0 it is buried in green woods, there is no level ground about it, but on the contrary there are wooded terraces upon terraces, and one looks | down through shining leaves into profound chasms and abysses where g o ..... twilight reigns and the sun cannot intrude. Nature knows how to garnish a ruin to get the best effect. One of these ol 1040 bag d towers is split down the middle, and one half has tumbled aside. It tumbled in Y such way as to establish itself in a picturesque attitude. Then all Jon{ it lacked was a fitting drapery, and Nature has furnished that; she 0 Lo has robed the rugged mass in flowers and verdure, and made it a e, o charm to the eye. The standing half exposes its arched and ca- vernous rooms to you, like open, toothless mouths; there, too, the vines and flowers have done their work of grace. The rear portion of the tower has not been neglected, either, but is clothed with a cling- 1 ing garment of polished ivy which hides the wounds and stains of time. Even the top is not left bare , but is crowned with a flourishing group of trees and shrubs. Misfortune has done for this old tower what it has done for the human character sometimes—improved it. A gentleman remarked, one day, that it might have been fine to live in the Castle in the da y of its prime, but we had one advantage 4 which its vanished inhabitants lacked—the advantage of having a charming ruin to visit and muse over. But that was a hasty idea. Those people had the advantage of us. They had the fine Castle to live in,and they could cross the Rhine valley and muse over the stately ruin of Trifels besides. The Trifels people, in their day, five hundred years ago, could g and muse over majestic ruins which have van- ished, now, to the last stone. There have always been ruins, no doubt ; and there have always been pensive people to sigh over them, and asses to scratch upon them their names and the important date of their visit. "Within a hundred years after Adam left Eden, the guide probably gave the usual general flowrish with his hand and said: ¢ Place where the animals were named, ladies and gentlemen ; place where the tree of the forhidden fruit stood; exact spot where Adam e ! and Eve first met; and here, ladies and gentlemen, adornsd and Il hallowed by the names and addresses of thres genera~ons of tourists, we have the crumbling remains of Cain’s altar—fine 0ld ruin !’ Then, no doubt, he taxed them a shekel apiece and let them go. il An illumination of Heidelberg Castle is one of the sights of Fu- il rope. The Castle’s picturesque shape; its commanding situation, 1] midway up the steep and wooded mountain side ; its vast size—these Jare A5 features combine to make an illumin il Tt is necessaril ation a most effective spectacle. i it ¥y an expensive show, and consequently rather infrequent. oy Therefore, whenever one of these exhibi tions is to take place, the news goes about in the papers, Hfll i Bt on that night, and Heidelberg is sure to be full of people fio % gl I and my agent had one of these opportunitien, and ytie 41 improved it. X2 308 A TRAMP ABROAD. g P‘“Ple About half-past seven on the appointed evening we crossed the drovi o o e ome American students, in a pouring rain, and 1 hridg lower bridge, with s which borders the Neunheim side of the river. Deares started up the road in tho ! This roadway was de nsely packed with carriages and foot passen gers ; nents, a0 | the former o fall ages, and the latter of all ages and both sexes. This sion dnfo t4¢ Plack and solid mass was struggling painfully onward, through the We waded along for three- o such 8pec slop, the darkmess, and the deluge. soomed a8 quarters of a mile, and finally took up a position in an unsheltered fime, 106 beer-garden directly opposite the Castle. We could not see the 1at matter—but we could dimly discern the innumer (Oastle—or anything else, for tl gl the outlines of the mountain over the way, through the pervading " Thea Dblackness, and knew whereabouts the Castle was located. We stood on one of the hundred benches in the garden, under our umbrellas; joined the ol nobly the other ninety-nine were occupied by standing men and women, every 1 and they also had umbrellas. All the region round about, and up and T down the river-road, was a dense wilderness of humanity hidden under an unbroken pavement of carriage tops and umbrellas. Thus Tuny Lt and we stood during two drenching hours. No rain fell on my head, but Spected 1 the converging whalebone points of a dozen neighbouring umbrellas poured little co oling streams of water down my neck, and sometimes into my ears, and thus kept me from getting hot and impatient. I ealy and jand, and 1t had the rheumatism, too, and had heard that this was good for it. treatment is ) J0A1! Afterward, however, I was led to believe that the water not good for rtheumatism. There were even little girls in that dreadful Au Ii A man held one in his arms, just in front of me, for as much 0 place. T i as an hour, with umbrella-drippings soaking into her clothing all the time. n 8 In the circumstances, two hours was a good while for us to have o il to wait, but when the illumination did at last come, we felt repaid. org i, or | Al Tt came unexpectedly, of course—things always do that have been d long looked and longed for. With a perfectly breath-taking sudden- ness several vast sheaves of vari-coloured rockets were vomited sky- [ ward out of the black throats of the Castle towers, accompanied by a i 6 ¢ il Where thundering crash of sound, and instantly every detail of the prodigious i) ruin stood revealed against the mountain side and glowing with an T, “Ld il almost intolerable splendour of fire and colour. For some little time i fgf the whole building was a blinding crimson mass, the towers continued s orgfy to spout thick columns of rockets aloft, and overhead the sky was ora radiant with arrowy bolts which clove their way to the zenith, paused, curved gracefully downw ard, then burst into brilliant foun- VISiG i by 1 tain sprays of richly coloured sparks. The red fires died slowly down Ereylogy ] k within the Castle, and presently the shell grew nearly black outside ; Y8 seg 1t the angry glare that shone out through the broken arches and innu- 0mg fry i merable sashless windows now reproduced the aspect which the Castle must have borne in the old time when the French spoilexs saw iy ) 15 ik the monster bonfire which they had made there fading-and smouldering 06 4 Jja I toward extinction. ‘While we still gazed and enjoyed, the ruin was suddenly enveloped of Uiy -He[ ity ligt in rolling and tumbling volumes of vaporous green fire: then in daz- Gl g L APPENDIX B. 309 By g 19 1y Ll zling purple ones; then a mixture of many colours followed, and of g drowned the great fabric in its blended splendours. Meantime the W+ nearest bridge had been illuminated, and from several rafts anchored D T in the river meteor showers of rockets, Roman candles, bombs, ser= ’h‘uuv pents, and Catherine wheels were being discharged in wasteful profu- g sion into the sky—a marvellous sight indeed to a person as little used i to such spectacles as I was. For a while the whole region about us i seemed as bright as day, and yet the rain was fallingin torrents all the time. The evening’s entertainment presently closed, and we joined the innumerable caraven of half-drowned spectators, and waded home W again. i) The Castle grounds are very ample and very beautiful ; and as they joined the hotel grounds, with no fences to climb, but only some nobly shaded stone stairways to descend, we spent a part of nearly every day in idling through their smooth walks and leafy groves. There was an attractive spot among the trees where were a greatl many wooden tables and benches; and there one could sit in the 00 Iy I shade and pretend to sip at his foamy beaker of beer while he in- spected the crowd. I say pretend, because I only pretended to sip, without really sipping. That is the polite way; but when you are i ready to go, you empty the beaker at a draught. There was a brass band, and it furnished excellent music every afternoon. Sometimes 1ty go many people came that every seat was occupied, every table filled. And never a rough in the assemblage—all nicely dressed fathers and mothers, young gentlemen and ladies and children ; and plenty of uni- versity students and glittering officers; with here and there a grey professor, or a peaceful old lady with her knitting ; and always a b fo {% sprinkling of gawky foreigners. Everybody had his glass of beer be- fore him, or his cup of coffee, or his bottle of wine, or his hot cutlet and potatoes; young ladies chatted, or fanned themselves, or wrought at their crocheting or embroidering ; the students fed sugar to their dogs, or discussed duels, or illustrated new fencing-tricks with their little canes ; and everywhere was comfort and enjoyment, and every- where peace and goodwill to men. The trees were jubilant with birds, and the paths with rollicking children. One could have a seat in that place and plenty of music, any afternoon, for about eight cents or a family ticket for the season for two dollars. {be ‘l For a change, when you wanted one, you could stroll to the Castle, and burrow among its dungeons, or climb about its ruined towers, or 0 visit its interior shows—the great Heidelberg Tun, for instance. Liverybody has heard of the great Heidelberg Tun, and most people have seen it, no doubt. o5 ¢ It is a wine-cask as big as a cottage, and some traditions say it holds eighteen hundred thousand hottles, and other traditions say it holds eighteen hundred million barrels. I ff think it likely that one of these statements is a mistake, and the other o ool one a lie. Howeyer, the mere matter of capacity is a thing of no sort i of consequence, since the cask is empty, and indeed has always been empty, history says. An empty cask the size of a cathedral could ex-~ ol ot cite but little emotion in me, I do not see any wisdom in building a tbefl il A 310 A TRAMP ABROAD. o P V . monster cask to hoard up emptiness in, when you can get a bettes coutte? fol fi quality, outside, any day, free of expense. What could this cask have There &t been built for ? The more one studies over that, the more uncertain §ome of g and unhappy he becomes. Some historians say that thirty couples, 4 gorg@(}lls some say thirty thousand couples, can dance on the head of this cask Jamsel 8 P at the same time. Even this does not seem to me to account for the It does not even throw light on it. A profound and of my oL building of it. o aud 8 scholarly Englishman—a specialist—who had made the great Heidel- cheaper 1t berg Tun his sole study for fifteen years, told me he had at last satis- fied himself that the ancients built it to make German cream in. He pictue Gl said that the average German cow yielded from one to two and a half teaspoonfuls of milk, when she was not worked in the plough or the hay waggon more than eighteen or nineteen hours a day. This milk was very sweet and good, and of a beautiful transparent bluish tint ; but in order to get cream from it in the most economical way, a peculiar process was necessary. Now he believed that the habit of the ancients was to collect several milkings in a teacup, pour it into the Great Tun, fill up with water, and then skim off the cream from time to time as the needs of the German Empire demanded. I seems th This began to look reasonable. It certainly began to account for the German cream which I had encountered and marvelled over in so without hay many hotels and restaurants. But a thought struck me— comg beone atches bim ¢Why did not each ancient dairyman take his own teacup of milk and his own cask of water, and mix them, without making a govern- offnder o ment matter of it?’ calition e ¢ Where could he get a cask large enough to contain the right iy, and 1p proportion of water ?’ over which | ¢ Very true.” It was plain that the Englishman had studied the aspofiily matter from all sides. Still T thought I might catch him on one e ghout i, point; so I asked him why the modern empire did not malke the eniene, i nation’s cream in the Ieidelberg Tun, instead of leaving it to rot 1 inpisomn away unused. But he answered as one prepared— student’ g ¢ A patient and diligent examination of the modern German cream sneting [} has satisfied me that they do not use the Great Tun now, because they Versity 1§ have got a bigger one hidden away somewhere. FEither that is the g n, do; case, or they empty the spring milkings into the mountain torrents, Ty and then skim the Rhine all summer. ) OUT ) § :) There is a museum of antiquities in the Castle, and among its )| dou]o ; most treasured relics are ancient manuscripts connected with German TWO W history, There are hundreds of these, and their dates stretch back J you! through many centuries. One of them is a decree signed and sealed Ttis ¢ by the hand of a successor of Charlemagne in the year 896. A sig- i Le] of nature made by a hand which vanished out of this life near a thousand years ago is a more impressive thing than even a ruined ‘Bxae) the Collerre castle. Luther’s wedding-ring was shown me; also a fork belonging B Ulent, to a time anterior to our era, and an early bootjack. And there was Ufiy, a plaster cast of the head of a man who was assassinated about sixty years ago. The stab-wounds in the face were duplicated with un- Sty O, pleasant fidelity, One or two real hairg still remained sticking in the APPENDIX C. 311 ‘Anvgm i et eycbrows of the cast. That trifle seemed to almost change the g counterfeit into a corpse. mfleuL Iy There are many aged portraits—some valuable, some worthless ‘Ulum U] some of great interest, some of none at all. I bought a couple—one a gorgeous dulke of the olden time, and the other a comely blue-eyed ) damsel, a princess, may be. I bought them to start a portrait gallery | of my ancestors with. I paid a dollar and a half for the duke and L3 two and a half for the princess. One can lay in ancestors at even cheaper rates than these, in Europe, if he will mouse among old L, f | picture shops, and look out for chances. a (ay el 10} APRENDIX C, THE COLLEGE PRISON. o It seems that the student may break a good many of the public laws £0.0 without having to answer to the public authorities, His case must come before the University for trial and punishment. If a policeman 201D catches him in an unlawful act and proceeds to arrest him, the makin 090 o Ut offender proclaims that he is a student, and perhaps shows his matri- culation card, whereupon the officer asks for his address, then goes his If the oflence is one Viial 0 U way, and reports the matter at headquarters. over which the city has no jurisdiction, the authorities report the bad case officially to the University, and give themselves no further con- feh bim cern ahout it. The University court send for the student, listen to the evidence, and pronounce judgment. i The punishment usnally inflicted Jearing 1t 1 is imprisonment in the University prison. As I understand it, a student’s case is often tried without his being present at all. Then something like this happens: A constable in the service of the Uni- (e versity visits the lodgings of the said student, knocks, is invited to T, (6 th ik e come in, does so, and says politely— it ¢If you please, I am here to conduct you to prison.’ ¢Ah; says the student, ‘I was not expecting it. What have I been doing ?’ ) aod am0% | itk ¢ T'wo weeks ago the public peace had the honour to be disturbed by you. |(o] ‘It is true; I had forgotten it. Very well; I have been com- {10 ¢ plained of, tried, and found guilty—is that it ?’ ‘Exactly. You are sentenced to two days’ solitary confinement in his i the college prison, and I am sent to fetch you.’ ) gred 1 Student. ‘Oh, T can’t go to-day !’ g 1018 2 Officer. ¢1f you please—why ?’ A2 Student. ¢ Because I've got an engagement,’ it sl Officer. ¢ To-morrow, then, perhaps ?’ el ™ Student. ¢ No, I am going to the opera to-morrow. s o8 312 A TRAMP ABROAD. forth al ¥ Officer. ¢ Could you come Friday ?’ Student. (Reflectively.) ¢ Let me see—Friday—Friday. I don’t T had W7 seem to have anything on hand Friday.’ Put Lwou fherefore 1) Officer. “Then, if you please, I will expect you on Friday.’ Now the Student. ¢ All right, I'll come around Friday.’ Officer. ¢ Thank you. Good day, sir” gl it WS Student. ¢ Good day. window 01 fy70 oaken So on Friday the student goes to the prison of his own accord, and is admitted. motoes It is questionable if the world’s criminal history can show a tions of i) custom more odd than this. Nobody knows, now, how it originated. villainous 0 There have always been many noblemen among the students, and it is Jots—fr fhem, The presumed that all students are gentlemen; in the old times it was corered it usual to mar the convenience of such follt as little as possible; per- haps this indulgent custom owes its origin to this. The wallsw One day I was listening to some conversation upon this subject somp doze when an American student said that for some time he had heen under 1o, blug B remained be sentence for a slight breach of the peace and had promised the con- stable that he would presently find an unoccupied day and betake him- O NAIMe self to prison. I asked the young gentleman to do me the kindness to go to jail as soon as he conveniently could, so that I might try to get fresAcoed A ) He midsan in there and visit him, and see what college-captivity was like. said he would appoint the very first day he could spare. Ay His confinement was to endure twenty-four hours. He shortly QUL IO chose his day, and sent me word. I started immediately. When I Ne o reached the University Place, I saw two gentlemen talking together, light, 12 ot i and as they had portfolios under their arms I judged they were tutors §I3 or elderly students; so I asked them in English to show me the prson college jail. I had learned to take it for granted that anybody in fiere and Germany who knows anything knows English, so I had stopped sfudents, and afflicting people with my German. These gentlemen seemed a trifle Dlaye amused—and a trifle confused, too—but one of them said he would Wi lh walk around the corner with me and show me the place. He asked q Soms f the me why I wanted to get in there, and I said to see a friend—and for curiosity. He doubted if I would be admitted, but volunteered to Teadsr g foy ut in a word or two for me with the custodian. o 1yt Comphinty g He rang the bell, a door opened, and we stepped into a paved way Iy and then into a small living-room, where we were received by a hearty and good-natured German woman of fifty, She threw up her hands Y, b g 8 bl with a surprised ¢ Ach Gott, Herr Professor !’ and exhibited a mighty ily fht deference for my new acquaintance. By the sparkle in her eye I (Tran A judged she was a good deal amused, too. The ¢ Herr Professor’ talked to her in German, and I understood enough of it to know that Aot of g he was bringing very plausible reasons to bear for admitting me. They ‘B, Gy were successful. Bltmar tk § So the Herr Professor received my earnest thanks and departed. The old dame got her keys, took me up two or three Trapy) flights of stairs, unlocked a door, and we stood in the presence of the Jeopl criminal. Then she went into a jolly and eager description of all that [ JSCI‘EHOD had occurred downstairs, and what the Herr Professor had said, and so by g (1] I APPENDIX C. 313 f by, (i} forth and so on. Plainly she regarded it as quite a superior joke that I had waylaid a Professor and employed him in so odd a service. But I wouldn't have done it if I had known he was a Professor; therefore my conscience was not disturbed. Now the dameleft us to ourselves. The cell was not a roomy one; still it was a little larger than an ordinary prison cell. It had a = 5 8 0 g o window of good size, iron-grated ; a small stove ; two wooden chairs ; two oaken tables, very old and most elaborately carved with names, ]t 07 4 b mottoes, faces, armorial bearings, etc.—the work of several genera- Vil tions of imprisoned students; and a narrow wooden bedstead with a villainous old straw mattress, but no sheets, pillows, blankets or cover- l lets—for these the student must furnish at his own cost if he wants them. There was no carpet, of course. The ceiling was completely covered with names, dates, and monograms, done with candle-smoke. The walls were thickly covered with pictures and portraits (in profile), some done with ink, some with soot, some with a pencil, and some with red, blue, and green chalks; and wherever an inch or two of space had remained between the pictures, the captives had written plaintive verses, or names and dates. I do not think I was ever in a more elaborately frescoed apartment. Against the wall hung a placard containing the prison laws. I s ke, [y made a note of one or two of these. For instance: The prisoner must Jif) pay, for the ¢ privilege’ of entering, a sum equivalent to 20 cents of our money; for the privilege of leaving, when his term has expired, 20 cents; for every day spent in the prison, 12 cents; for fire and light, 12 cents a day. The jailor furnishes coffee, mornings, for a Tier small sum; dinners and suppers may be ordered from outside if the 0 prisoner chooses—and he is allowed to pay for them, too. a0yl Here and there, on the walls, appeared the names of American students, and in one place the American arms and motto were dis- played in coloured chalks. With the help of my friend I translated many of the inscriptions. Some of them were cheerful, others the reverse, I will give the reader a few specimens: (] D> ¢In my tenth semestre (my best one), I am cast here through the complaints of others, Let those who follow me take warning.’ ¢IIT Tage ohne Grund angeblich aus Neugierde.” Which is to s pifléfi )} say, he had a curiosity to know what prison-life was like ; so he made il 78 a breach in some law and got three days for it. It is more thap 8 likely that he never had the same curiosity again. (Translation.) ¢ E. Glinicke, four days for being too eager a spec- o n b o tator of a row.’ 1 }’roff:x? E‘{e it fo o . i ‘F. Graf Bismarck—27-29, [T, ’74” Which means that Count Bismarck, son of the great statesman, was a prisoner two days in 1874, g 0% i (Translation.) ‘R. Diergandt—for Love—four days.’ Many P eople in this world have caught it heavier than that for the same 0 fll'u\‘l indiscretion. a0 PIL’ s i} This one is terse. T translate: fiond ¢ Faur weeks for misinterpreted gallantry. §00, {2 814 4 TRAMP ABROAD. I wish the sufferer had explained a little more fully, A four puong 8 weeks’ term is a rather serious matter. hosP‘lmhty W ? Amefl%y : There were many uncomplimentary references, on the walls, to a certain unpopular college dignitary. One sufferer had got three days s fher ¥ for not saluting him. Amnother had ¢here two days slept and three pis e 02 nights lain awake,” on account of this same ¢Dr. K. In one place i deares fho old g was a picture of Dr. K. hanging on a gallows. Here and there, lonesome prisoners had eased the heavy time by fo celebrate altering the records left by predecessors. Leaving the name standing, students and the date and length of the captivity, they had erased the de- breachin ol oot 1eEt .\ scription of the misdemeanour, and written in its place, in staring capitals, ‘FOR THEFT!’ or ‘FOR MURDER !’ or some other gaudy crime, months, 1! In one place, all by itself, stood this blood-curdling word : delivenance students rec ‘RACHE!’! qnd of cours There was no name signed, and no date. It was an inscription he manag well calculated to pique curiosity. One would greatly like to know Jas. Sequ ooked fo the nature of the wrong that had been done, and what sort of vengeance mendinth was wanted, and whether the prisoner ever achieved it or not. But there was no way of finding out these things. ing fllowt Pt s de Occasionally a name was followed simply by the remark, ¢ IT days, roceed sobe for disturbing the peace,’ and without comment upon the justice or injustice of the sentence. Jupg dor In one place was a hilarious picture of a student of the green-cap e sipped corps with a bottle of champagne in each hand ; and below was the the next thre legend: ‘These male an evil fate endurable.’ TWhen be: would butt There were two prison cells, and neither had space left on walls or ceiling for another name or portrait or picture. The inside sur- might b goo faces of the two doors were completely covered with cartes de visite ate e e of former prisoners, ingeniously let into the wood and protected from ith the ide dirt and injury by glass. matterof tim I very much wanted one of the sorry old tables which the el it prisoners had spent so many years in ornamenting with their pocket Inives, but red tape was in the way. The custodian could not sell one without an order from a superior; and that superior would have to get it from /s superior; and this one would have to get it from a higher one—and so on up and up until the faculty should sit on the matter and deliver final judgment. The system was right, and nobody could find fault with it; but it did not seem justifiable to bother so many people, so I proceeded no further. It might have cost me more than I could afford, anyway ; for one of those prison tables, 1 4 lltfle ] which was at that time in a private museum at Heidelberg, was afterwards sold at auction for two hundred and fifty dollars. It was Iy oft Cag captive students began their work on it. ot worth more than a dollar, or possibly a dollar and a half, before the tle) g Persons who saw it at the 05 gty auction said it was so curiously and wonderfully carved that it was a[e”hadt worth the money that was paid for it. L) umque ) ! ¢Revenge.’ he haA ol gy } APPENDIX D. 315 Iy, oy N Among the many who have tasted the college prison’s dreary By iy hospitality was a lively young fellow from one of the Southern States DUt fy) of America, whose first year's experience of German university life ‘ut i was rather peculiar. The day he arrived in Heidelberg he enrolled 0 (; his name on the college books, and was so elated with the fact that 16 Digy his dearest hope had found fruition and he was actually a student of he ATY tiny Iy the old and renowned university, that he set to work that very night Ui to celebrate the event by a grand lark iz company with some other students. - In the course of his lark he managed to make a wide breach in one of the university’s most stringent laws. Sequel: before 0y 1 i, U0y (g noon, next day, he was in the college prison—booled for three 0} months. The twelve lo ng weeks dragged slowly by, and the day of deliverance came at last. A great crowd of sympathising fellow- students received him with a rousing demonstration as he came forth, and of course there was another grand lark—in the course of which he managed to malke a wide breach in one of the cify’s most stringent i ko laws. Sequel : before noon, next day, he was safe in the city lock-up —booked for three months, This second tedious captivity drew to an end in the course of time, and again a great crowd of sympathis- . 1 ng fellow-students gave him a rousing reception as he came forth ; but his delight in his freedom was so boundless that he could not 113 proceed soberly and calmly, but must go hopping and skipping and the sleety street from sheer excess of joy. Sequel: Jumping down he slipped and broke his leg, and actually lay in the hospital during I the next three months ! When he at last became a free man again, he said he believed he would hunt up a brisker seat of learning ; the Heidelberg lectures 9 1o 0! IR Thg might be good, but the opportunities of attending them were too rare, the educational process too slow ; he said he had come to Europé with the idea that the acquirement of an education was only a 0l matter of time, but if he had averaged the Heidelberg system cor- rectly, it was rather a matter of eternity. 10 APPENDIX D. THE AWFUL GERMAN LANGUAGE. A little learning makes the whole world kin.—Proverbs xxxii. 7. ‘i I wENT often to look at the collection of curiosities in Heidelberg il Castle, and one day I surprised the keeper of it with my German. I el & spoke entirely in that language. Ie was greatly interested; and iy after I had talked awhile he said my German was very rare, possibly g i j i a ‘unique ’; and wanted to add it to his museum. fat 7 If he had Imown what it had cost me to acquire my art, he would also have lmown that it would break any collector to buy it. 316 A TRAMP ABROAD. y3-T Harris and I had been hard at work on our Germ: an during several ol peeptl weeks at that time, and although we had made go od progress, it had pecniar a0 been accomplished under great difficulty and anno yance, for three of fonded 0001 our teachers had died in the meantime. A person who has not There o7 studied German can form no idea of what a perplexing language it is. | grenige &2 . Surely there is not another language that is so slipshod and cuiosify 2 systemless, and so slippery and elusive to the grasp. One is washed marts of 87 about in it, hither and hither, in the most helpless w: ay; and when at last he thinks he has ¢ aptured a rule which offers firm ground to take of compoL i a rest on amid the general rage and turmoil of be fo the ten parts of without speech, he turns over the page and reads, ¢ Let the pupil make careful note of the following exceptions.’ He runs his eye down and finds Wi L that there are more exceptions to the rule th an instances of it. So 0 overboard he goes again, to hunt for another Ararat and find another f t ‘h‘e‘pnren“thj quicksand. Such has been, and continues to be , Iy experience. f' Every time I think I have got one of thes e four confusing ¢cases’ conplo where I am master of it, a seemingly insi < gnific ant preposition in- them trudes itself into my sentence, clothed with an —after1 awful and unsuspected fho man ower, and crumbles the ground from under me, For instance, my ook inquires after a certain bird—(it is alw ays inquiring after things of omamen which are of no sort of consequence to anybody) : ¢ Where is the bird ?’ sind e Now the answer to this question— the monume according to the book—is that the he nafue 0 bird is waiting in the blacksmith- shop on account of the rain. Of course no bird would do that, but then you must stick to the hook, retty, G th Very well, I begin to cipher out the German for that answer, I A 01 begin at the wrong end, necessarily, for that is the German idea. I say to myself, ¢ Regen (rain) is masculine—or maybe it is feminine man 1 A —or possibly neuter—it is too much trouble to 1 ook, now. There- a1 Elee] fore, it is either der (the) Regen, or die 1 Vevven Regen, (the) Regen, or das (the) according to which gender it may turn out to be when I look. the Parenth In the interest of science, I will ci pher it out on the hypothesis that %) lfa‘ it is masculine. Very well—then # CO\;' [9 fJH in the quiescent state of bein /e rain i3 der Regen, if it is simply 0 temg g mentioned, without enlargement or mh»: discussion—Nominative case ; but if this rain is lying around, in a Now b kind of a general way on the g round, it is then definitely located, it 107yt is doing something—that i 8, resting (which is one of the German translatiop, the Dative case grammar’s ideas of doing something), and this throws the rain into for the , and malkes it dem Regen, However, this rain is not Daenthe resting, , but is doing something actively—i t is falling—to interfere trough ¢ with the bird, likely—and this indicates movement—which has the effect of sliding it into the Accus ative case an Bty d changing dem Regen Very-unegy into den Regen. Having completed the gr amim atical horoscope of Counseoy' this matter, I answer up confidently and state i n German that the bird is staying in the blacksmith sho That 1y Regen.” Then the teacher lets p ¢ wegen (on account of) den i iy Sty whenever the word ¢ me softly down with the remark that 0l ohygyy wegen’ drops into a sentence, it always throws that subject into the Genitive case, regardless of consequences—and that therefore this bird staid lflve‘ Regens. in the blacksmith—shop ¢ wegen det;i Jetz sely 8tgg t ) 0 APPENDIX D. 317 liryy ¥l N.B.—T was informed, later, by a higher authority, that there was 2 o 1ty an ¢ exception’ which permits one to say ‘wegen den L u egen’in certain Wy peculiar and complex circumstances, but that this exception is not ex- tended to anything but rain. There are ten parts of speech, and they are all troublesome. An 1 average sentence in a German newspaper 1s a sublime and impressive curiosity ; it occupies a quarter of a column; it contains all the ten il parts of speech—not in regular order, but mixed ; it is built mainly of compound words constructed by the writer on the spot, and not to be found in any dictionary—six or seven words compacted into one, without joint or seam—that is, without hyphens; it treats of four- teen or fifteen different subjects, each enclosed in a parenthesis of its own, with here and there extra parentheses which re-enclose three or four of the minor parentheses, making pens within pens; finally, all the parentheses and re-parentheses are massed together between a couple of king-parentheses, one of which is placed in the first line of the majestic sentence and the other in the middle of the last line of it —after which comes the VERB, and you find out for the first time what the man has been talking about ; and after the verb—merely by way of ornament, as far as I can make out—the writer shovels in ¢ Zaben sind gewesen gehabt haben geworden sein, or words to that effect, and the monument is finished. I suppose that this closing hurrah is in the nature of the flourish to a man’s signature—not necessary, but retty. German books are easy enough to read when you hold them b efore the looking-glass or stand on your head—so as to reverse the i construction—but I think that to learn to read and understand a Ger- man newspaper is a thing which must always remain an impossibility to a foreigner. Yet even the German hooks are not entirely free from attacks of the Parenthesis distemper—though they are usually so mild as to cover only a few lines, and therefore when you at last get down to the verb it carries some meaning to your mind because you are able to remember a good deal of what has gone before. Now here is a sentence from a popular and excellent German novel—with a slight parenthesis in it. I will make a perfectly literal translation, and throw in the parenthesis-marks and some hyphens for the assistance of the reader though in the original there are no parenthesis-marks or hyphens, and the reader is left to flounder through to the remote verb the best way he can:— ¢ But when he, upon the street, the (in-satin-and-silk-covered-now- very-unconstrainedly-after-the-newest-fashion-dressed) government el counsellor’s wife met, etc., ete.? And That is from ¢ The Old Mamselle’s Secret,” by Mrs. Marlitt. e i that sentence is constructed upon the most approved Gterman model. il o You observe how far that verb is from the reader’s base of operations; i 1o 2 1L I ' 1 Wenn er aber auf der Strasse der in Sammt und Seide gehiillten i gquemk"’ [ jetz sehr ungenirt nach der neusten mode gekleideten Regierungsrathin fael begegnet.’ 318 A TRAMP ABROAD. b well, in a German newspaper they put their verb away over on the fiafs DU next page; and I have heard that sometimes after springingalong of (eso on exciting preliminaries and parentheses for a column or two, they iy, ne get in a hurry and have to go to press without getting to the verb if shrng® at all, Of course, then, the reader is left in a very exhausted and Now 00 ignorant state. ‘We have the Parenthesis disease in our literature, too; and one yould hare inventor 0 may see cases of it every day in our books and newspapers ; but with fospetk 0 us it is the mark and sign of an unpractised writer or a cloudy intellect, whereas with the Germans it is doubtless the mark and o sfick 0 sign of a practised pen and of the presence of that sort of luminous it bug s s intellectual fog which stands for clearness among these people. For it untl the surely it is not clearness—it necessarily can’t be clearness.” Even a 0 jury would have penetration enough to discover that. A writer’s {afin ideas must be a good deal confused, a good deal out of line and sequence, when he starts out to say that a man met a counsellor’s wife in the street, and then right in the midst of this so simple under- taking halts these approaching people and makes them stand still That is until he jots down an inventory of the woman’s dress. manifestly absurd, It reminds a person of those dentists who secure Aee your instant and breathless interest in a tooth by taking a grip on it with the forceps, and then stand there and drawl through a tedious anecdote before they give the dreaded jerk. Parentheses in literature NN and dentistry are in bad taste. G- [y The Germans have another kind of parenthesis, which they make < -1 by splitting a verb in two and putting half of it at the b eginning of A=) an exciting chapter and the otker zalf at the end of it. Can any one conceive of anything more confusing than that? These things are li called ‘separable verbs.” The German grammar is blistered all over fithoat with separable verbs ; and the wider the two portions of one of them are spread apart, the better the author of the crime is pleased with his performance. A favourite one is refste ab, which means departed. thisis only Here is an example which I culled from a novel and reduced to tions of e English. still anothe ‘The trunks being now ready, he DE- after kissing his mother {ives fn thy and sisters, and once more pressing to his bosom his adored Gretchen, they mug who, dressed in simple white muslin, with a single tuberose in the ample folds of her rich brown hair gsted, , had tottered feebly down the heand g stairs, still pale from the terror and excitement of the past evening, oods,thy . but longing to lay her poor aching head yet once again upon the Jectivg, breast of him whom she loved more d However, it is not well to dwell early than life itself, PARTED. The too much on the separable verbs. pficating i One is sure to lose his temper early ; and if he sticks to the subject, and will not be warned, it will at last either soften his brain or sl petrify it, el in this lang Personal pronouns and adjectives are a fruitful nuisance them fy ¢ uage, and should have been left out, For instance, the 8l th same sound, sie, means you, and it means ske, and it means Aer, and it means ¢, and it means # hey, and it means them. Think of the el ragged poverty of a langua ge which has to make one word do the Bmonth I Bl APPENDIX D. 319 iy Oy 0 th work of six—and a poor little weal thing of only three letters at g e that. But mainly, think of the exasperation of never knowing which of these meanings the speaker is trying to convey. This explains e § why, whenever a person says sie to me, I generally try to Iill him, if a stranger. Now observe the Adjective. Here was a case where simplicity B by would have been an advantage ; therefore, for no other reason, the [} inventor of this language complicated it all he could. When we wish to speak of our ‘good fiiend or friends,’ in our enlightened tongue, we stick to the one form and have no trouble or hard feeling about It ¢ it; but with the German tongue it is differe nt. When a German ) f and keeps on declining gets his hands on an adjective, he declines it, It is as bad as Tt until the common sense is all declined out of it. Latin, He says, for instance :— SINGULAR. Nominative—Mein guter Freund, my good friend. Genitive—Meines guten Freundes, of my good friend. Dative—Meinem guten Freundfto my good {riend. Wi JJ Accusative—Meinen guten Freund, my good friend. PLURAL. n 1ol N.—DMeine guten Freunde, my good friends. G. Meiner guten Freunde, of my good friends. ht D.—Meinen guten Freunden, to my good friends. 9 A.—DMeine guten Freunde, my good friends. Now let the candidate for the asylum try to memorise those variations, and see how soon he will be'elected. One might better go wit ) i hout friends in Germany than take all this trouble about them. I e have shown what a bother it is to decline a good (male) friend ; well, Bp this is only a third of the worlk, for there is a variety of new distor- tions of the adjective to be learned when the object is feminine, and d 1 (ot still another when the object is neuter. Now there are more adjec- tives in this language than there are black cats in Switzerland, and they must all be as elaborately declined as the examples above sug- ] G gested. Difficul t 2—troublesome P—these words cannot describe it. I 0% I heard a Californian student in Heidelberg say, in one of his calmest elly moods, that he would rather decline two drinks than one German ad- i jective. p! The 1 nventor of the language seems to have talen pleasure in com- «AI,P lRT plicating it in every way he could think of. For instance, if one is Haus, or a horse, Pferd, or a dog, Hund, gt casually referring to a house, fo e he spells these words as I hav e indicated ; but if he is referring to his i them in the Dative case, he sticks on a foolish and unnecessary e and Pferde, Hunde. So, as an added e often signifies il 2 spells them Hause, the new student is likely to go on for i the plural, as the s does with us, 3l il a month making twins out of a D ative dog before he discovers his Jigk 0 mistake : and on the other hand, many a new student who could ill ] i 320 A TRAMP ABROAD. afford loss, has bought and paid for two dogs and only got one of them, 1o e G because he ignorantly hought that dog in the Dative singular when he o gt jynforunate really supposed he was talking plural—which left the law on the seller’s side, of course, by the strict rules of grammar, and therefore a i the g suit for recovery could not lie. piher, 10 d In German, all the Nouns begin with a capitel letter. Now that fion; that 18 isa good idea; and a good idea in this language is necessarily con- Genan et spicuous from its lonesomeness. I consider this capitalising of nouns o addstn, 8 wamsdeserip a good idea, because by reason of it you are almost always able to tell a noun the minute you see it. You fall into error occasionally, 50 he preed because you mistale the name of a person for the name of a thing, and creature f010 waste a good deal of time trying to dig a meaning out of it. German Tinderiun=T names almost always do mean something ,and this helps to deceive the {hat persn 8 student. T translated a passage one day, which said that ¢ the in- el afer furiated tigress broke loose and utterly ate up the unfortunate fir- o be forest’ (Zannenwald). When I was girding up my loins to doubt sade s ton this, T found out that Tannenwald, in this instance, was a man’s name. er) which i Every noun has a gender, and there is no sense or system in the e gven frome distribution ; so the gender of each must be le arned separately and by in the rightpl heart. Thereis no other way. To do this one has to have a memory point it 18 10 like a memorandum book. In German a young lady has no sex, while frack, aud al a turnip has. Think what overwrought reverence that shows for the even hen b turnip, and what callous disrespect for the gixl, See how it looks in thi i W print. I translate this from a conversation in one of the best of the German Sunday-school books : — Tur Gretchen. ¢ Wilhelm, where is the turnip ?’ Ttisa bk Wilkelm. ¢She has gone to the kitchen,’ how e mttle Gretchen. ¢ Where is the accom maiden ?’ plished and beautiful English M, o g Nire it g ar Wilkelm. ‘It has gone to the opera.’ To continue with the German genders: a tree is m cat by the Sl ale, its buds are Seele s ey, female, its leaves are neuter; horses are sexle ss, dogs are male, cats is Noh o g are female—Tom-cats included , of course; a person’s mouth, neck, bosom, elbows, fingers, nails Lo o | his head is male or neuter , feet, and body are of the male sex, and f0toneof thy according to th e word selected to signify it, it off 4 iy and not according to the sex of the indiv idual who wears it—for in Germany all the women wear either m ale heads or sexless ones; a o the iy person’s nose, lips, shoulders, hre thle i v ast, hands, hips, and toes are of the ight 1Dy g female sex; and his hair, ears, eyes, chin, legs, knees, heart, and con- science haven’t any sex at all. The inventor of the language probably b, by got what he knew aho ut a conscience from hearsay. 0y ! N all Now, by the above dissection, tl he reader will see that in Germany i “P» ] a man may ¢/nk he is a man, but when he comes to look into the 802 Spr matter closely he is bound to h ave his doubts ; he finds that in sober WS I dttacks 1& truth he is a most ridiculous mixture ; and if he ends by trying to com- fort himself with the thought that he ¢ an at least depend on a third My and g of this mess as heing manly and m B Consipyeq thought will quiclkly remind him that asculine, the humiliating second in this respect he is no better off than any woman or cow in the land. ity &) ki AURIZIGIIIE I9), 321 gy 0y { In the German it is true that, by some oversight of the inventor of 5 lyy the language, a Woman is a female, but a Wife ( We:d) is not—which ’AI‘} ag f is unfortunate. A Wife here has no sex ; she is neuter ; so, according to the grammar, a fish is Ze, his scales are she, but a fish-wife is neither. To describe a wife as sexless may be called under-descrip- tion; that is bad enough, but over-desciition is surely worse. A German speaks of an Englishman as the Englinder ; to change the sex it 4 he adds wnn, and that stands for Englishwoman—Englinderinn. That 9 seems descriptive enough, but still it is not exact enough for a German ; 80 he precedes the word with that article which indicates that the creature to follow is feminine, and writes it down thus: ‘die Eng- 10 ( linderinn ’—which means ‘the ske-Englishwoman,’ I consider that that person is over-described. ‘Well, after the student has learned the sex of a great number of nouns he is still in a difficulty, because he finds it impossible to per- i suade his tongue to refer to things as “ ke’ and ¢ ske, and ¢ /Zim’ and ¢ her, which it has been always accustomed to refer to as ¢st.’ ‘When he even frames a German sentence in his mind, with the hims and hers in the right places, and then works up his courage to the utterance- point, it is no use—the moment he begins to speak his tongue flies the track, and all those laboured males and females come out as ‘s¢s.” And even when he is reading German to himself he always calls those L things ¢ ¢¢,” whereas he ought to read in this way :— L TarLe oF THE FrsowIrE AND Irs Sap FaATe.! It is a bleak Day. Hear the Rain, how he pours, and the Hail, how he rattles; and see the Snow, how he drifts along, and oh, the & iful 1Al Mud, how deep he is! Ah, the poor Fishwife, it is stuck fast in the Mire ; it has dropped its Basket ot Fishes; and its Iands have been cut by the Scales as it seized some of the falling Creatures ; and one Scale has even got into its Eye, and it cannot get her out. It opens its Mouth to cry for Help, but if any Sound comes out of him, alas! he is drowned by the raging of the Storm. And now a Tomcat has got one of the Fishes, and she will surely escape with him. Noj; she bites off a Fin, she holds her in her Mouth—will she swallow her? No ; the Fishwife’s brave Mother-Dog deserts his Puppies and rescues the Fin; which he eats himself as his Reward. O horror; the u l Lightning has struck the Fishbasket ! he sets him on Fire! See the Flame, how she licks the doomed Utensil with her red and angry Tongue! Now she attacks the helpless Fishwife's Foot—she burns him up, all but the big Toe, and even ske is partly consumed ; and still she spreads, still she waves her fiery tongues! She attacks the Fish- b < wife’s Leg and destroys ¢ ; she attacks its Hand and destroys Aer ; she ) 10 08 s fhaf 08 attacks its poor worn Garment and destroys %er also ; she attacks its Body and consumes %zm ; she wreathes herself about its Heart and st g o is consumed ; next about its Breast and in a Moment ske is & Cinder; ald I i ! T capitalise the ncuns, in the German (and ancient English} s ¢ £ashion, iYs 322 A TRAMP ABROAD. n b?‘.’.m W'fih‘ now she reaches its N eck—he goes ; now its Chin—¢t goes; now its her moment, except Ilelp come, the Fishwife o Wbl Nose—she goes. In anot esses—is there none to succour and save? g will be no more! Time pr ich meas Yes! Joy, joy ! with flying Teet the she-Englishwoman comes! But ate ! Where now is the fated Just the s alas ! the generous she-Female is t0o 1 ¢ ; it has gone to a better Draght 250 Fishwife ? T; has ceased from its Suffering Land; all that is lef t of it for its loved Ones to lament over is this Tyain, Conavd h-heap. Ah, woful, woful Ash-heap! Let us (haracter, & poor smouldering As Diss, Drawet, take him up tenderly, reverently, upon the lowly Shovel, and bear him which it 008 to his long Rest, with the Prayer tha t when he rises again it will be in a Realm where he will h ave one 2o od square responsible Sex, and hugg 0 having a mangy lot of assorted Sexes (Jne have it all to himself, instead of Amed scattered all over him in Spots. G o€l qil There, now, tho reader can see for himself that this pronoun-busi- ness is a very awkward thing for the unaccustomed tongue. thing at I suppose that in all langu ages the similarities of look and sound 4 Gernan o are a fruitful it he i between words which have no similarity in meaning Now, t source of perplexity to the foreigner.” It is so in our tongue, and it is notably the case in the German. Now tl rere is that troublesome word master verméhlt s to me it has so close a resembl ance—either real or fancied Limp i Jef him b 'lh’ (% —_to three or four other words, that I never know whether it means ; despised, p ainted, suspected, or married, until I look in the dictionary, fits1t i ) and then I find it means the latter. There arve lots of such words, afterits the To increase the difficulty there are 4 10t acl, thi and they are a great torment. h words which seem to resemble each other, and yet do not; but they e 10 § I did. For instance, there is the malke just as much trouble as if they When yon oad word vermiethen (to let, to lease, to hire), and the word verkeirathen 8 8lla or (another way of sa ying to marry). I heard of an Englishman who fonence knocked at a man’s door in Heidelberg and proposed, in the best Ger- fo e 80 man he could command, to ¢verheirathen’ that house. Then there L are some words which mean one thing when you emphasise the first ungo bub mean something very different if you throw the emphasis full (U§ gyllable, there is a word which means a run- on the last syllable. For instance, Ty pote away, or the act of glanc ing through a boolk, according to the placing i of the emphasis; and another . word which signifies to associate with a ) L-In 4 him, according to where you put the emphasis— and Was s 1 man, or to avoy Han 00 you can generally depend on putting it in the wrong place and getting the wry into trouble. There are some exceedingly useful words in this language: Scklag, died, 1 he sy @ for example, and Zug. There are three-quarters of a colum The That i Schlags in the dictionary, and a column and a h alf of Zugs. 6 Mogt oy word Schlag means Blow, St oke, Dash, Hit, Shock, Clap, Slap, Time, €A oy d Bar, Coin, Stamp, Kind, Sort, Manner, Way, Apoplexy, Wood-cutting, Perspectiye Enclosure, Field, Forest-clearing. This is its simple and exvact mean- ing—that is to say, its restricted, i ts fettered meaning; but there are ey so that it can soar away, as on the Dily, ways by which you can set it free, tfldtverm wings of the morning, and never be at rest. You can hang any word you please to its tail, and make it mean anything you want to. You 65 thim { they ity o APPENDIX D. 823 r\fi W e, e b 1) ![‘e can begin with Sc/lzg-ader, which means artery, and you can hang (0 e on the whole dictionary, word by word, clear through the alphabet to O Scllag-wasser, which means bilge-water, and including Scklag-mutter, U D]Wh 6 Bfw which means mother-in-law. 3 s Just the same with Zug. Strictly speaking, Zug means Pull, Tug, e, gyey Draught, Procession, March, Progress, Flight, Direction, Expedition, Train, Caravan, Passage, Stroke, Touch, Line, Flourish, Trait of il Character, Feature, Lineament, Chess-move, Organ-stop, Team, Whiff, Bias, Drawer, Propensity, Inhalation, Disposition; but that thing which it does mot mean, when all its legitimate pendants have been hune on, has not been discovered yet. One cannot over-estimate the usefulness of Schlag and Zug. Armed just with these two, and the word Aiso, what cannot the 000 foreigner on Grerman soil accomplish? The German word 4lso is the 00 1t equivalent of the Iinglsh phrase ¢ You know,” and does not mean any- thing at all—in zalk, though it sometimes does in print. Every tine a German opens his mouth an Also falls out; and every time he shuts it he bites one in two that was trying to get out. Now, the foreigner, equipped with these three noble words, is master of the situation. Let him talk right along, fearlessly; let him pour his indifferent German forth, and when he lacks for a word, let him heave a Scilag into the vacuum: all the chances are, that it fits it like a plug! but if it doesn’t, let him promptly heave a Zug after it; the two together can hardly fail to bung the hole; but if, by a miracle, they should fail, let him simply say Also! and this will give him a moment’s chance to think of the needful word. In Germany 8, i when you load your conversational gun it is always best to throw in a Schlag or two and a Zug or two; because it doesn’t make any dif- ference how much the rest of the charge may scatter, you are bound to bag something with ¢kens. Then you blandly say 4lso, and load Nothing gives such an air of grace and elegance and up again. unconstraint to a German or an English conversation as to scatter it full of ¢ Also’s’ or ¢ You knows.’ In my note-book I find this entry: July 1.—In the hospital, yesterday, a word of thirteen syllables was successfully removed from a patient—a North-German from near emp Hamburg ; but as most unfortunately the surgeonshad opened him in g the wrong place, under the impression that he contained a panorama, he died. The sad event has cast a gloom over the whole community. i That paragraph furnishes a text for a few remarks about one of ol the most curious and notable features of my subject—the length of il German words. Some German words are so long that they have a )y (l perspective. Observe these examples : xfy 11 Freundschaftsbezeigungen. Wemt’l —— Dilletantenaufdringlichkeiten. u Stadtverordnetenversammlungen. These things are not words, they are alphabetical processions. And gy pbug? fu — they are not rare; one can open a German newspaper any time and I ot f Y2 324 4 IRAMP ABROAD. o 28 see them marching majestically across the page—and if he has any imagination he can see the banners and hear the musie, too. They s Asisant jmpart a martial thrill to the meekest subject. I take a great interest feaee yestendd in these curiosities. ‘Whenever I come across a good one, I stuff it [} upoundl and put it in my museum. In this way I have made quite a valuable firsa titleon collection. ‘When I get duplicates, I exchange with other collectors, Jitlo nstances and thus increase the variety of my stock. Here are some specimens dismal Gema which I lately bought at an auction sale of the effects of a bankrupt {0 subit the bric-a-brac hunter: of llustraion GENERALSTAATSYERORDXETENVIZI/’. SAMML’CIT'GE)T. 2+ (o the ALTERTHUMSWISSENSCHAFTEN. Y inthistomnstan KINDERBEWAHRUNGSANSTALTEN. UNABHAENGIGKEITSERKLAERUNGEN. Vhen the £ reached, e 1 ‘WIEDERHERSTELLUNGSBESTREBUNGEN, / e firg surmounds VW AFFENSTILLSTANDSUNTERHANDLUNGEN. o quickreturning Of course when one of these grand mountain rangés goes ;tretching orer ber young across the printed page, it adorns and ennobles that literary landscape Tventhe ¢ -—hut at the same time it is a great distress to the new student, for it pethosout of blocks up his way; he cannot crawl under it, or climb over it, or it Thisitem tunnel through it. So he resorts to the dictionary for help; but there used it sooner, is no help there. The dictionary must draw the line somewhere—sn am still waif it leaves this sort of words out. And it is right, because these long ! 1] things are hardly legitimate words, but are rather combinations of qurze, Lhare words, and the inventor of them ought to have been killed. They student who wa are compound words, with the hyphens le’t out. The various words and who answe used in building them are in the dictionary, but in a very scattered worked at ity condition; so you can hunt the materials out, one by one, and get at the meaning at last, but it is a tedious and harassing business. I foritisong gl be), e have tried this process upon some of the above examples. ¢ Freund- schaftsbezeigungen’ seems to be ¢ Friendship demonstrations,’ which is ‘But Iy o only a foolish and clumsy way of saying ¢ demonstrations of friendship.’ Aud i gy fim‘ating study, ¢ Unabhaengigkeitserklaerungen’ seems to be ‘Independencedeclara- tions,” which is no improvement upon ¢ Declarations of Independence,’ Theard Ity as far as I can see. ¢ Generalsmatsverordnetenversammhmgen ’ seems 00 g gy der biy gy to be ¢ Generalstatesrepresentativesmeetings,’ as nearly as 1 can get at it—a mere rhythmical, gushy euphuism for ‘meetings of the legisla- e Whog ture, I judge. ‘We used to have a good deal of this sort of crime in S it our literature, but it has gone out now. We used to speak of a thing 0t g as a ‘ never-to-be-forgotten’ circumstance, instead of cramping it into IR {hyt ) the simple and sufficient word ¢ memorable,” and then going calmly al supp‘m W about our business as if nothing had happened. In those days we Itmkth were not content to embalm the thing and bury it decently, we wanted st by thi) to build a monument over it. S gy Moty But in our newspapers the compounding disease lingers a little to gy the present day, but with the hyphens left out, in the German fashion. I, Cragh, shoyg 1 This is the shape it takes: instead of saying ¢Mr. Simmons, clerk of ) Vel], 21 the county and district courts, was in town yesterday, the new form €4 fopy £ 4] puts it thus: ‘Clerk of the County and District Court Simmons was 0s ribg in town yesterday.’ This saves neither time ror ink, and has an awks b kil Ity aa ity b APPENDIX D. b \Du\m’ f “I 0 Ty ward sound besides, One often sees a remark lile this in our papers: 64 o it ¢ Mrs Assistant District Attorney Jo hnson returned to her 0 o | dence yesterday for the season.’ That is a ¢ city resi- (e (it gy, ase of really unjustifiable compounding ; because it not only s aves no time or trouble, but con- Wl Other gq) fers a title on Mrs. Johnson wh ich she has no right to. But these % oy little instances are trifles indeed, contr U 0f g by asted with the ponderous and il i dismal German system of piling jumble d compounds together. I wish to submit the following local item, from of illustration : a Mannheim journal, by way ‘In the daybeforeyesterdayshortlyaftereley eno’clock Night, the inthistownstandingtavern called “The Wago ner ” was downburnt, ‘When the fire to the onthedownburninghouseresti ng Stork’s Nest reached, flew the parent Storks away. But when t he bytheraging, fire surrounded Nest ¢fself caught Fire, straightw ay plunged the quickreturning Mother-Stork into the F lames and died, her Wings 7l over her young ones outspread.’ Lven the cumbersome German construction is not able to take the (12 pathos out of that picture—indeed it some how seems to strengthen it. This item is dated away back yonder r months ago. I could have used it sooner, but I was waiting to hear from the Father-Stork, I because (e am still waiting. ¢ Also!’ If I have not shown that the German is a difficult lan- guoge, I have at least intended to do it. T have heard of an A merican student who was asked how he was getting along with his German, 108 ¥ and who answered promptly : ¢I am not getting along at all. I have worked at it hard for three level months, and all I h ave got to show for it is one solitary German phrase— “ Zwer glus "’ (two glasses of beer). He paused a moment, reflectivel ¢ But I have got that solid !’ y, then added with feeling, And if I bave not also shown tha t German is a harassing and in- furiating study, my execution has be en at fault I o , and not my intent. I heard lately of & worn and sorely tried Ameri can student who used to fly to a certain German word for relief when he could bear u under his aggravations no longer—the cnly word in the whole lan- Jen guage whose sound was sweet and precious to his ear and healing to his lacerated spirit. This was the word Damit. It was only the sound that helped him not the meaning; ! and so, at last, when he i learned that the emphasis of CraD and su was not on the first syllable, his only stay pport was gone, and he faded away and died. I think that a descri ption of any loud, stirring, tumultuous episode Ifl fhoe 0 must be tamer in Germ 4 this character have suc an than in Inglish. Our descriptive words of eent h a deep, strong, resonant sound, while their German equivalents do seem so th in and mild and energyless. Boom, g lngers J burst, crash, roar, storm, bellow, blow, shout, yell, groan’; battle, hell. thunder, explosion ; howl, cry, o Germat have a force and m These are magnificent words ; they Sinmor agnitude of sound befitting the things which they oy, ¢ 1 il describe. But their German equivalents would be ever so nice to sing [ the childre ! gl f n to sleep with, or else my awe-inspiring ears were made ] 1 It merely means, in its general sense, ¢ kerensith,’ 328 A TRAMP ABROAD. foutle 0 i for display and not for superior usefulness in analysing sounds. Handly 307 Would any man want to die in a battle which was called by so tame nob thiat kin _( a term as a Schlacht ? Or would not a consumptive feel too much bundled up, who was about to go out, in a shirt collar and a seal ring, peedsneformt. into a storm which the bird-song word Gewitter was employed to pendy to 185 o 0 describe? And observe the strongest of the several German equiva- yetls, frst 8 lents for explosion—Ausbruch. Our word Toothbrush is more power- ful than that. It seems to me that the Germans could do worse than thus have &1 mere S0 import it into their language to describe particularly tremendous ex- Jo thedn losions with. The German word for hell—Holle—sounds more like helly than anything else ; therefore, how necessarily chipper, frivolous, fho plurl; ¢ and unimpressive it is. If a man were told in German to go there, (lase except whenor ¥ JI e could he really rise to the dignity of feeling insulted ? Having now pointed out, in detail, the several vices of this lan- it orbow be i guage, I now come to the brief and pleasant task of pointing out its Tt 40 Oroae virtues. The capitalising of the nouns I have already mentioned. Tou In the‘r?xt 5 But far before this virtue stands another—that of spelling a word br according to the sound of it. After one short lesson in the alphabet, TEYel the student can tell how any German word is pronounced, without —yon ouly en 8l Tl having to ask; whereas in our language if a student should inquire of i el us ¢ What does B, O, W, spell?’ we should be obliged to reply, ¢ Nobody can tell what it spells, when you set it off by itself—you can =) only tell by referring to the context and finding out what it signifies W —whether it is a thing to shoot arrows with, or a nod of one's head, or the forward end of a boat.” ourl There are some German words which are singularly and power- a0 {l fully effective. For instance, those which describe lowly, peaceful, Lithing and affectionate home life ; those which deal with love, in any and al forms, from mere kindly feeling and honest good will toward the word i Gl assing stranger, clear up to courtship; those which deal with out- I oor Nature, in its softest and loveliest aspects—with meadows and A forests, and birds and flowers, the fragrance and sunshine of summer, B and the moonlight of peaceful winter nights; in a word, those which OZE"?. Iy yaf\i 1y 1t deal with any and all forms of rest, repose, and peace; those also {han which deal with the creatures and marvels of fairyland ; and lastly a8 and chiefly, in those words which express pathos, is the language sur= i Sij\\h‘,_v,’ ] 094 passingly rich and effective. There are German songs which can gewoidey malte a stranger to the language cry. That shows that the sound of the words is correct—it interprets the meanings with truth and with ! Terdy exactness ; and so the ear is informed, and through the ear, the heart. have Dlenty The Germans do not seem to be afraid to repeat a word when it is Germag lag the right one. . They repeat it several times, if they choose. That is 1ot be in i wise But in English when we have used a word a couple of times in promp A0 a paragraph, we imagine we are growing tautological, and so we are esses d weak enough to exchange it for some other word which only approxi= £aciogg | mates exactness, to escape what we wrongly fancy is a greater blemish. Goty | « Repetition may be bad, but surely inexactness is worse. They thi, 4 gentle ang There are people in the world who will take a great deai of EHJ, ‘Thety A G APPENDIX D. 327 mfl{gi“g n nh, trouble to point nut the faults in a religion or a language, and then Y6 gy o blandly about their business without suzgesting any remedy. I am (1) gy not that kind of a person. I have shown that the German language Mfliwq, i emflmd { W needs reforming, Very well, I am ready to reform it. Atleast I am il ready to male the proper suggestions. Such a course as this might .Hméfl E'quira.. be immodest in another; but I have devoted upwards of nire full Wl 13y )i} W o ¥ weeks, first and last, to a careful and critical study of this tongue, and \.J".‘.'d d.o 1y tray thus have acquired a confidence in my ability to reform it which no mere superficial culture could have conferred upon me. g y el i In the first place, I would leave out the Dative Case. It confuses ) the plurals ; and besides, nobody ever knows when he is in the Dative 020 {en Case, except he discover it by accident—and then he does not know f when or where it was that he got into it, or how long he has heen in {hs it, or how he is ever going to get out of il again. - The Dative Case is fing oty but an ornamental folly—it is better to discard it. e, In the next place, I would move the Verb further up to the front. Ine § won You may load up with ever so good a Verb, but I notice that you 10 taedlp i never really bring down a subject with it at the present German range, lneed, —you only cripple it. So I insist that this important part of speech shiould be brought forward to a position where it may be easily seen 3 obliced ¢ with the nalked eye. Ji- Thirdly, I would import some strong words from the English Ik woa tongue—to swear with, and also to use in describing all sorts of 1od of one vigorous things in a vigorous way.! 4 Fourthly, I would reorganise the sexes, and distribute them mlaly and according to the will of the Creator. This as a tribute of respect, if 0 'Lo'\\xy, ! nothing else. Jove, 1n 80y L1 Fifthly, I would do away with those great long compounded o il words ; or require the speaker to deliver them in sections, with inter- dal w missions for refreshments. To wholly do away with them would be ]]l“/ldv best, for ideas are more easily received and digested when they come b Intellectual food is like i3 il one at a {ime than when they come in bulk. T any other ; it is pleasanter and more beneficial to take it with a spoon nrfld than with a shovel. P Sixthly, I would require a speaker to stop when he is done, and not hang a string of those useless ‘haben sind gewesen gehabt haben o Jangt s geworden seins’ to the end of his oration. This sort of gew-gaws o il 1 ¢ Verdammt,’ and its variations and enlargements, are words which il uthod have plenty of meaning, but the sounds are so mild and ineffectual that o edly fe? German ladies can use them without sin. German ladies who could T ol e i} not be induced to commit a sin by any persuasion or compulsion, ! Tt promptly rip out one of these harmless little words when they tear their ! dresses or don’t like the soup. It sounds about as wicked as our ¢ My 4 000 pleof gracious | > German ladies are constantly saying, ¢Ach ! Gott [ siMein 108l < Gott!’ ¢Gott in Himmel !’ ¢Herr Gott!’ ¢Der Herr Jesus!’ etc. oo (i P They think our ladies have the same custom, perhaps, for I once heard s a gentle and lovely old German lady say to a sweet young American 1% girl, The two languages are so alike—how pleasant that is we say, % % . “ Ach! Gott |” you say, “ Goddam.”’ ‘”«MCM d i\\ A TRAMP ADROAD. undignify a speech, instead of adding a grace. They are therefore an s i 6 i e snei oftence, and should be discarded. E Seventhly, I would discard the Parenthesis. Also the re-Paren- ol nal'll)l} I thesis, the re-re-parenthesis, and the re-re-re-re-re-re-parentheses, and pach; U i e IR likewise the final wide-reaching all-enclosing King-parenthesis. which 0! would require every individual, be he high or low, to unfold a plain oW straightforward tale, or else coil it and sit on it and hold his peace. ge1D, & ) Goeth\ ioh—-ut Jetu Infractions of this law should be punishable with death. Also And eighthly and lastly, I would retain Zug and Scklag, with their pendants, and discard the rest of the vocabulary. This would st bt simplity the language. welcome and ('an the terse I have now named what I regard as the most necessary and im- portant changes. These are perbaps all I could be expected to name [y it Fres for nothing; but there are other suggestions which I can and will epeieathin make in case my proposed application shall result in my being for- o bt it 1 mally employed by the government in the work of reforming the fhered this | language. 205} Anbik weleh My philological studies Lave satisfied me that a gifted person Jud gud 8 far ought to learn English (barring spelling and pronouncing) in 30 hours, Heilberger p French in 30 days, and German in 30 years. It seems manifest, then, afirich wabrs Hinizstubl me that the latter tongue ought to be trimmed down and repaired. = If it is to remain as it is, it ought to be gently and reverently set aside sehin b Got among the dead languages, for only the dead have time to learn it. Qerlchem eone A FourtH OF JULY ORATION IN THE GERMAN TONGUE, DELIVERED wete ot for o measurs of oy AT A BANQUET OF THE ANGLO-AMERICAN CLUB OF STUDENTS BY Hindert s THE AUTHOR OF THIS BOOK. Feinde; aber b GENTLEMEN : Since I arrived, a month azo, in this old wonder- thisgood ellow land, this vast garden of Germany, my English tongue has so often 0 164D may proved a useless piece of baggage to me, and so troublesome to carry staited it b around, in a country where they haven’t the checking system for bindre, uat] luggage, that I finally set to work, last week, and learned the German 3 e angest language. Also! Iis freuit mich dass dies so ist, denn es muss, in ein sein hauptsichlich degree, hiflich sein, dass man aiif ein occasion like this, 2 Rede in dic Sprache des Landes worin he boards, aiissprechen soll. Dafiir habe ich, aiis reinische Verlegenheit—no, Vercangenheit —no, I mean Hoflichkeit—als reinische Hoflichkeit habe ich resolved to tackle this business in the German language, im Gottes willen ! Also! Sie miissen so freiindlich sein, tind verzeih ‘mich’die inter- larding von ein oder zwei Englischer' Worte) hie iind da, denn ich finde dass die deiitche is not a very copious language, and so when you've really got anything to say, you've got to draw on a language LI 1y that can stand the strain. Wenn aber man kann nicht meinent Rede verstehen, so werde ich Iy the gy ihm spiiter dasselbe iibersetz, wenn ‘er solche Dienst verlangen wollen haben werden sollen sein hitte. (I don’t know what wollen haben U e Ly Ueuged werden sollen sein hiitte means, but I notice they always put it at the ey Iy end of a German sentence—merely for general literary gorgeousness, I 81ppose.) thoygh g, ] They 329 APPENDIX E. T Ry This is a great and justly honoured day—a day which is worthy Iy of the veneration in which it is held by the true patriots of all climes b1y oS and nationalities—a day which offers a fruitful theme for thought and Wl Rl speech ; ind meinem Freiitnde—no, meinen Fretnden—meines Fre- b ufoly tindes—well, take your choice, theyre all the same price; I don't Wiy know which one is right—also ! ich habe gehabt haben worden gewesen bl e, e, sein, as Goethe says, in his P/aradise‘Lcst——,ich——ich—that is to say— ich—but let us change cars. By Also! Die Anblick so v iele\'VGroésb‘rittanischevr ind Amerika- 4, Thywy nischer hier zusammengetroffen 1n Bruderliche concord, ist zwar a 0y g, welcome and inspiriting spectacle. And what has moved you to it? Can the terse German tongue rise to the expression of this impulse ? ; '9! (ol 14y Is it Freiindschaftsbezeigtingenstadtverordnetenversammlungenfami- 0 L e gnd v b1y ey fy, lieneigenthiimlichkeitem ? Nein, o nein! This is a erisp and noble word, but it fails to pierce the marrow of the impulse which has o refor:gniné fy gathered this friendly meeting and produced diese Anblick—eine Anblick welche ist giit zu sehem—git fiir die Afigen in a foreizn 04 gl i land and a far country—eine Anblick solche als in die gewdnliche e, b man Heidelberger phrase nennt man ein ¢ schines Aussicht!” Ja, freilich natiirlich wabrscheinlich ebensowonl! Also! Die Aussicht auf dem d e li Konigstuhl mehr grosserer ist, aber geistlische sprechend nicht so ererently il timg t0 leam i schon, lob’ Gott! Because sie sind hier zusammengetroffen,in Bru- derlichem concord, ein grossen Tag zu feiern, whose high benefits were not for one land and one locality only, but have conferred a (0NGUE, DELIEED measure of good upon all lands that know liberty to-day, and love it. 3 O STUDENIS 31 =2 & Hiindert Jahre “voriiber, waren die Englinder und die Amerikaner Feinde ; aber heiite sind sie herzlichen Freiinde, Gott sei Dank! May fhis ol wond this good fellowship endure ; may these banners here blended in amity, gt bas & ofe S0 remain ; may they never any more wave over opposing hosts, or be oublesne L-LT stained with blood which was kindred, is kindred, and always will be prking 5 fem 1 kindred, until a line drawn upon a map shall be able to say, ¢ This parDe bars the ancestral blood from flowing in the veins of the descendant!’ .% it Il b s ] 00K 10y t babe APPENDIX E. i it LEGEND OF THE CASTLES. i ik 08 ind 0,02 e, 0 g 7 CALLED THE ‘SWALLOW'S NEST’ AND ‘ THE BROTHERS, AS CONDENSED > FROM THE CAPTAIN’S TALE. 00 8 B IN the neighbourhood of three hundred years ago the Swallow’s Nest o, 07 i and the larger castle between it and Neckarsteinach were owned and \n‘ erzg? il cccupied by two old knights who were twin brothers, and bachelors. gt mli2 They had no relatives. They were very rich. They had fought s pu! fifide - through the wars and retired to private life—covered with honourable g ) scars, They were honest, honourable men in their dealings, but the 330 A TRAMP ABROAD. sl [ fho o gestive—IHerr Givenaught and Herr Heartless. people had given them a couple of nicknames which were very sug- ook The old knights i 1id i were so proud of these names that if a burgher called them by their right ones they would correct him. e The most renowned scholar in Furope, at that time, was the Herr sho Was 0 nhEIW Vel e J Doctor Franz Reikmann, who lived in Heidelberg. = All Germany was proud of the venerable scholar, who lived in the simplest way, al \ bl‘%m‘t , | for great scholars are always poor. He was poor, as to money, but farouiag f very rich in his sweet young daughter Hildegarde and his library. éflCh OthET i He had been all his life collecting his library, book by book, and he : UPU’J \VhiCh loved it as a miser loves his hoarded gold. He said the two strings panes—A0d) of his heart were rooted, the one in his daughter, the other in his tITgH 'TJUV § books ; and that if either were severed he must die. Now in an evil vour fnsae 10 bour, hoping to win a marriage portion for his child, this simple old ruornd ot man had entrusted his small savings to a sharper to be ventured in a siop i o glittering speculation. But that was not the worst of it : he signed a Touarelm paper—without reading it. That is the way with poets and scholars, peyer have mua they always sign without reading. This cunning paper made him eensef upon i responsible for heaps of things. The result was, that one night he !’ found himself in debt to the sharper eight thousand pieces of gold !— ey time an amount so prodigious that it simply stupefied him to think of it. Whers L e 0 It was a night of woe in that house. fir o donen, T ‘I must part with my library—I have nothing else. So perishes 02 YOUrSe: one heartstring,’ said the old man. pE‘I bue ¢ What will it bring, father ?’ asked the girl. hand of You ‘Nothing ! It is worth seven hundred pieces of gold; but by b ave you auction it will go for little or nothing.’ m;v fr the he ¢Then you will have parted with the half of your heart and the A mgndering Jjoy of your life to no purpose, since so mighty a burden of debt will remain behind.’ “Audyoua Tt ‘There is no help for it, my child. Our darlings must pass under han o call me the hammer. We must pay what we can. ¢ My father, I have a feeling that the dear Virgin will come to our $0 saying help. Let us not lose heart.’ ueky aeiden iy quan) ¢She cannot devise a miracle that will turn nothing into eight thousand gold pieces, and lesser help will bring us little peace.’ grley-headed { ¢She can do even greater things, my father. She will save us, I I8 0V ] know she will. alf n. e (iveng Toward morning, while the old man sat exhausted and asleep in his chair where he had been sitting before his books as one who ‘Lam g watches by-his beloved dead and prints the features on his memory for boligy for a solace in the aftertime of empty desolation, his daughter sprang b into the room and gently woke him, saying— gand's by She will =ave us. Three times has ¢ My presentiment was true ! Tuttered, she appeared to me in my dreams, and said, ¢ Go to the Herr Give- It g naught, go to the Herr Heartless, ask them to come and bid.” There, fimgip it did I not tell you she would save us, the thrice blesséd Virgin !’ Tegoy The Sad as the old man was, he was obliged to laugh. Poorh ¢Thou mightest as well appeal to the rocks their castles stand il hlS bl'( i hey APPENDIX E. 331 : Yo ¥, e UR gy unon as to the harder ones that lie in those men’s breasts, my child. iy i They bid on books writ in the learned tongues !—they can scarce read their own. hm%W%( But Hildegarde's faith was in no wise shaken. Bright and early o heH Al g, she was on her way up the Neckar road, as joyous as a bird. 1 Sy 3y Meantime Herr Givenaught and Herr Heartless were having an ) early b . reakfast in the former’s castle—the Sparrow’s Nest—and U8 4y h5 I I flavouri ng it with a quarrel; for although these twins bore a love for k by by each other which almost amounted to worship, there was one subject 4 Qg oy g e g o ————— upon whi ch they could not touch without calling each other hard names—and yet it was the subject which they oftenest touched upon. ‘,‘r, &, thAe‘ 0[!1]81‘ i]] h\, ¢TI tell you,’ said Givenaught, ¢ you will beggar yourself yet, with Wilaney) money upon what you choose to consider Simply your insane squanderings of hbe oor and worthy objects. All these years I have implored you to {l stop this foolish custom and husband your means, but all in vain. You are a lways lying to me about these secret benevolences, but you et f never have managed to deceive me yet. KEvery time a poor devil has et e b been set upon his feet I have detected your hand in it—incorrigible Ly £ one ‘Li.“ ass!’ ¢ Every time you didn’t set him on his feet yourself, you mean. m fo ¢ W Where I give one unfortunate a little private lift, you do the same for a dozen. The idea of your swelliny around the country and el Soper urself with the nickname of Givenaught—intolerable hum= etting yo b ug ! Be fore I would be such a fraud as that, I would cut my right PTG — hand off. Your life is a continual lie. But go on, I have tried my g of oll; ut by best to save you from beggaring yourself by your riotous charities— now for the thousandth time I wash my hands of the consequences. yourbert od A maundering old fool ! that's what you are.’ urdenf det ¢ And you a blethering old idiot ! ” roared Givenaught, springing up. ¢I won't stay in the presence of a man who has no more delicacy than to call me such names. Mannerless swine !’ vt ult So saying, Herr He artless sprang up, in a passion. But some inwill el lucky accident intervened, as usual, to change the subject, and the daily quarrel ended in the customary daily lovi ng reconciliation. The toiatng grey-headed old eccentrics parted, and Herr Heartless wallked off to i his own castle. g il ! Half an hour later, Hildegarde was standing in the presence of Herr Givenaught. He heard her story, and said :— o ool 11 ‘I am sorry for you, my ¢ hild, but I am very poor, I care nothing N for bookish rubbish, I shall not be there.” [ but they nearly broke poor Hilde- ) o0 bis He said the hard words kindly, i:‘ dughter S garde's heart, nevertheless. ‘When she w — ag gone the old heart-breaker muttered, rubbing his hands, ‘It was a good strole. I have saved by brother’s pocket this i 2 Nothing else would h ave prevented his rushing fofhe it V;I,* time in spite of him. i’ |Tnfffx off to rescue the old scholar, the pride of Germany, from his troubles. he rebuff she has received i | The poor child won’t venture near /im after t o Tt from his brother, the Givenaught.’ ol But he .was mistaken, The V: irgin had cémmanded, and Tilde- o 332 A TRAMP ABROAD, ylong i p bes garde would obey, She wen d usin But he said coldly,— t to Herr Heartless and told her story, gty (food ! ‘I am very poor, my child, and books are nothing to me, T wish 1§y huodr® you well, but I shall not come.’ Gopsafion When Hildegarde was gone, he chuckled and said,-— i i, GreenP? f ‘ How my fo ol of a soft-headed soft-he e, 6038 6 if he knew how cunningly I have saved hi arted brother would rage have flown to the old man’s rescue ! s pocket. ITow he would ‘Gfllflo’mm him now. But the girl won't venture near igen hndre (s e ‘When Hildegarde reached home, her father asked her how she o i chouted had prospered. She said,— ¢ The Virgin has promised, ‘bp‘?fldld; gél the way I thought. ~ She kno and she will keep her word ; but not in ws her own ways, and they are best. gfll%ihousfl.nd!’ The old man patted her o n the head » and smiled a doubting smile, VThoe cheets but he honourcd her for her braye faith, nevertheless. {Geig—gpiog VMo thousen II Next day the people assembled i Aud while the tavern, to witness the auction n the great hall of the Ritter ko ca this de of Germany’s most honoure —for the proprietor had said the treasure Bit o mafe ] d son should be bartered away in no i books 1 f meaner place. Hildegarde an d her father sat close to the books, silent and sorrowful, and holding each other’s hands. crowd of people present. The bidding began:— There was a great ‘TU' ‘How much for this Come, , er\er:vb plete ? 7 called the auctioneer, precious library, just as it stands, all com- A il h Iimatie ¢ Fifty pieces of gold !’ ¢A hundred !’ ghmy ¢ Two hundred |’ ! 01D, ¢Three !’ Four thousan ¢ Four!’ 'Huzza ! ¢ Five hundred !’ Five thougay ¢ Five twenty-five !’ Huza ! A brief pause. “Six thousan ¢ Five forty !’ Huza ! A longer pause, while t Seren thogg ¢ Five forty-five !’ he auctionser redoubled his persuasions, g ! A heavy drag—the auctioneer persuaded , pleaded, implored—it “E{ght thoug was useless, everybody remained silent:— €18 s ¢ Well, then—going, going—one —two—’ v ¢ Five hundred and fifty !” £Motiy, The This in a shrill voice, from a bent old m and with a an, all hung with rags, Tie‘n.yemh l. ) green patch over his left eye. Everybody in his vicinity O'mg\g() turned and gazed at him. It was Givenau (=} r ht in disguise, He was Ty {i using a disguised voice, too. Wes feat 4 ¢Good !” eried the auctioneer, brothg T Ty ¢ Five hundred and sixty !’ ¢ Going, going—one—two,’ Chega, y This in a dee other end of the P harsh voice, from the midst of the crowd at the ‘Al h Jou room. The pe ople near by turned, and saw an old Ty What man, in a strange costume, supporting Limself on crutches. e wore % saying, APPENDIX E. 833 W, 2y a Tong white beard, and blue spectacles, It was Herr Heartless, in disguise, and using a disguised voice. Iy f O, | ¢ Good again ! Going, going—one—’ Wi ¢ Six hundred !’ Sensation. Iy The crowd raised a cheer, and some one cried out, 0.]‘\1 N ¢Go it, Green-patch !’ This tickled the audience and a score of voices I)wh shouted, ¢ Go it, Green-patch !’ Won't Yo ;W“ll ¢ Going—going—going—third and last call—one, two—’ g ¢Seven hundred !’ el by ) 0F gy ? ¢Huzzah !—well done, Crutches!’ eried a voice. The crowd took it up, and shouted altogether, ¢ Well done, Crutches !’ Ewn, ¢ Splendid, gentlemen! you are doing magnificently. Going, Ut ot T i b going—’ €A thousand !’ ddmn § ¢ Three cheers for Green-patch ! Up and at him, Crutches!’ ¢ Going—going—’ ¢ Two thousand !’ ’"fl ft () And while the people cheered and shouted, ¢ Crutches’ muttered, A § ¢ Who can this devil be, that is fighting 8o to get these useless bools ? ol away —But no matter, he shan’t have them. The pide of Germany shall have his books if it beggars me to buy them for him.’ e by ) Thers s ¢ Three thousand !’ ¢ Going, going, going— ¢ Come, everybody—give a ruser for Green-patch !’ it stand ol e And while they did it, Green-patch muttered, ¢ This eripple is o — plainly a lunatic ; but the old scholar shall have his books, neverthe- less, though my pocket sweat for it, ¢ Going—going—’ ¢ Four thousand !’ “Huzza 1’ ¢ Five thousand !’ ¢ Huzza !’ ¢ Six thousand !’ ¢ Huzza !’ ¢ Seven thousand !’ ‘Huzza !’ s prssins ¢ Eight thousand !’ i imlnd-1 ¢We are saved, father! I told you the Holy Virgin would keep her word !’ ¢ Bleszed be her sacred name !’ said the old scholar, with emotion, The crowd roared, ¢ Huzza, huzza, huzza—at him again N T ——— Green-patch !’ | bung WD ¢ Going—going—’ ‘TEN thousand !’ As Givenaught shouted this, his excitement iy inbis vicim'f{ (AL was so great that he forgot himself and used his natural voice. His i brother recognised it, and muttered, under cover of the storm of cheers— 4T ¢ Aha, you are there, are you, besotted old fool ? Talke the books, 1 know what youll do with them.’ ecmwdflf(‘ So saying, he slipped out of the place, and the auction was at an and Wuul 1t o Tt 834 A TRAMP ABROAD. end. Givenaught shouldered his way to Hildegarde, whispered-a ries word in her ear, and then he, also, vanished. The old scholar and his hich CA! g et daughter embraced, and the former said, ¢ Truly the Holy Mother has hen JOU done more than she promised, child, for she has given you a splendid aylight 018 Jight marriage portion—think of it, two thousand pieces of gold !’ pookeriesn ¢ And more still cried Hildegarde, ‘for she has given you back Qouefimes 2 your books ; the stranger whispered me that he would none of them hat it 0 —¢ the honoured son of Germany must keep them,” so he said. I fyperl 15102 would I might have asked his name and kissed his hand and begged qn o 708 his blessing ; but he was Our Lady’s angel, and it is not meet that we Tefurethe 00 of earth should venture speech with them that dwell above,’ gubjets 1 theyd gihs—1otL Ho soon con¥ Ay t0 ol 5T o APPENDIX F. nspoudence- Trery panagn GERMAN JOURNALS. ther town, & ] 9 Tre daily journals of IHamburg, Frankfort, Baden, Munich, and isplaeed & that the au i Augsburg, are all constructed on the same general plan. I spealk of i these because I am more familiar with them than with any other the German papers. They contain no ‘editorials’ whatever; no ¢per- sonals’—and this is rather a merit than a demerit, perhaps; no Some of stanee, ny e funny-paragraph column ; no police court reports; no reports of pro- it amived at{ ceedings of higher courts ; no information about prize fights or sther dog fights, horse races, walking-matches, yachting contests, rifle- 0 come a full matches, or other sporting matters of any sort; no reports of banquet- Some of continued sto speeches; no department of curious odds and ends of floating fact in the Fren and gossip; no ‘rumours’ about anything or anybody ; no prognosti- cations or prophecies about anything or anybody ; no lists of patents judge that s granted or sought, or any reference to such things; no abuse of i story, o public officials, big or little, or complaints against them, or praises . I youg of them ; no religious column Saturdays, no re-hash of cold sermons ’ Journal, he Mondays; no ¢weather indications; no ‘local item’ unveilings of daily, and 1 what is happening in town—mnothing of a local nature, indeed, is Ttis like o mentioned, beyond the movements of some prince or the proposed out in Ney meeting of some deliberative body. Zeitg iy After so formidableta list of what one can’t find in a German mind whey daily, the question may well be asked, What can be found in it ? It entire pape is easily answered: A child’s handful of telegrams, mainly about New York European national and international political movements; letter- Such oy correspondence about the same things; market reports. There you have it. 70, upon That is what a German daily is made of. A German daily 100 gnop 0 is the slowest and saddest and dreariest of the inventions of man. Portion oft Our own dailies infuriate the reader pretty often; the German daily Such I only stupefies him. Once a week the German daily of the highest Y class lightens up its heavy columns-—that is, it thinks it lightens isthe by them up—with a profound, an abysmal, book criticism ; a criticism . 11? i & 00 Wik P g : APPENDIX F. 335 o ) Whv} ¥ Jhr il li which carries you down, down, down, i nto the scientific bowels of b Hiy it S no thing if not scientific—and e vy by the subject—for the Geerman critic i st and scent the fresh air and see the bonny ML ol N when you come up at la daylight once more, yo u resolve without a dissenting voice that a . [:'IUEH Tn hi(“i book-criticism is a mis taken way to lighten up a German daily. \\fnx‘lld 0y Sometimes, in place of the criticism, the first-class daily gives you Ay §) by [ | what it thinks is a gay and chipper essay—about ancient Grecian h?lld Al i funeral customs, or the ancient Egyptian method of tarring a mummy, | o or the reasons for believing that some of the peoples who existed e 4800, before the flood did not approve of cats. These are not unpleasant subjects; the v are not uninteresting subjects; they are even exciting 1 one ef these massive scientists gets hold of them. subjects—unti He soon convinces you that ev en these matters can be handled insuch a way as to male a person low- spirited. As I have said, the average German daily is made up solely of of it by telegraph, the rest of it by mail. eorrespondence—a trifle Every paragraph has t he side-head, ¢ London,” ¢ Vienna,” or some other town, and a date. And always, before the name of the town, is pl aced a letter or a sign, to indicate who the correspondent is, so that t he authorities can find him when they want to hang him. i) Stars, crosses, triangles, squares, half-moons, suns—such are some of the signs used by correspondents. Some of the dailies move too fast, others too slo wly. For in- 0 stance, my Heidelberg daily was always twenty- four hours old when papers used it arrived at the hotel ; but one of my Munich evening to come a full twenty-four hours before it was due. Some of the less important dailies give one a table-spoonful of a continued story every day ; it is strung across the bottom of the pag €, in the French fashion. By subscribing for the paper for five years I judge that a man might succeed in getting pretty much all of the story. If you asl < a citizen of Munich which is the best Munich daily 1, he will always tell you that ther e is only one good Munich journa daily, and that it is published in Augsburg, forty or fifty miles away. ! It is like saying th at the best daily paper in New York is published out in New Jersey somewhere. Yes, the Augsburg ¢Allgemeine Zeitung ’ is ¢ the best Munich paper,’ and it is the one I had in my mind when I was describing a ¢first-class German daily > above. The . = ! lfld il GE_TYJ entire paper, opened out, is not quite as large as a single page of the New York ¢ Herald” It is printed on both sides of course; but in such large type that its entire conte nts could be put, in ¢ Herald’ type, upon a single page of the ¢Her ald >—and there would still be room enough on the page for the ¢ Zeitung’s’ Supplement and some ;po‘ 08 AGe portion of the ¢ Zeitung’s’ next day’s contents. jovent 1008 Jiidg Such is the first-class daily. The dailies actually printed in Munich are all called second-class by the public. If you ask which {hy (e is the best of these second-class papers they say there is no difference, jlyot y 0! i one is as good as another. I have preserved a copy of one of them ; s g (e it is called the ¢ Miinchener Tages-Anzeiger, and bears date January 336 A TRAMP ABROAD. 25,1879, Comparisons are odious oty o and without any malice I wish to c , but they need not be malicious ; sothe repofie a German city of 170,000 inhabitan ompare this journal, published in ts, with journals of other countries, Fuaclly 0 I kmow of no other way to enable the reader to ‘size’ the thing. crific‘lsmuh.t‘ A column of an average d aily paper in America contains from i Death Noti 1,800 to 2,500 words ; the reading matter in The othel from 25,000 to 50,000 words. a single issue consists of Munich journal consists of a The reading matter in my copy of the ander fhe e total of 1,654 words—for I counted tells about them. That would be nearly a column of one of our dailies. A t\VBfl:_V-OEE 8 single issue of the bulkiest daily newspaper in the world—the London Jestruction 0 ¢ Times '—often contains 100,00 0 words of reading matter. Consider- ing that the ¢ Daily Anzeiger’ isstes the usu of thetfofal al twenty-six numbers (Consider per month, the reading matter in a single number of the London Qally pape ¢ Times’ would keep it in copy ’ two months and a half! what a 14 The ¢ Anzeiger’ is an eight- page paper; its page is one inch wider and one inch longer th amaysuch a] sions of its page are so an a foolscap page; that is to say, the dimen- tofind it A 1 mewhere between those of a schoo lboy’s slate transat { fikd i and a lady’s pocket-handkerchief. One fourth of the fi st page is realising sem taken up with the heading of the journs a 21 1; this gives it a rather top- heavy appearance ; the rest of th Munich dal of the second page is reading matt e first page is reading matter; all efei— to advertisements, er; the other six pages are devoted " Py} The reading matter is com pressed into two hundred and five small Jong aceoun pica lines, and is lichted u p with eight pica head-lines. The bill of tuach, o vill fare is as follow. s: First, under a pica head-line to enforce attention two children and respect, is befors the m a four-line sermon urging mankind to remember thag Tocenstach b although they are pilgrims here bel ow, they are yet heirs of heaven; and that ¢ When they depart from earth they soar to heaven.” Per- heartless fof haps a four-line sermon in a Saturday paper is the sufficient German - determined ¢ equivalent of the eight or Proceeded to Yorkers get in their Monda ten columns of sermons which the New y morning papers. The latest news (two treating bim days old) follows the four- line sermon, under the pica head-line ¢ Tele- Inte. Tholy grams’—these are ‘telegraphed’ with a pair of scissors out of the cried, and i ¢ Augsburger Zeitun g’ of the day before. tures ang dg fourteen and two-thirds lines from These telegrams consist of he suddey ] Berlin, fifteen lines from Vienna, and two and five-eighths lines fror m Calcutta. Thirty-three small 2 the body pica lines of telegra phic news in a daily journal in a King’s Capital 1'0?97 Ihe C.OI‘( of 170,000 inhabita nts, is surely not an overdose. Next, we have the at a piif pica heading, ¢ News of the Day, under which the following facts Tl sy are set forth: Prince Leopold is goi ng on a visit to Vienna, six lines; 1187 confyipg Prince Arnulph is coming back fror n Russia, two lines; the Landtag 28 thi gy will meet at 10 o’clock in the morning and consider an election lav, of Hogg, three lines and one word over ; a city government item, five and one 0N tha half lines; prices of tickets t bloog Wholy twenty-three lines—for this on o the proposed grand Charity Ball, , ey the entire firs e item occupies almost one fourth of 6 Crug] N t page ; there is to be a wonder ful Wagner concert in €1 ob) Iged Frankfurt-on-the-Main, with an ochestra of benc A instruments, seven and one half lines. one hundred and eight Y 1] by That concludes the first page. e gy Eighty-five lines altogether, on that pa ge, including three head-lizes. W % thgy APPENDIX F. 337 ty Uy b iy About fifty of those lines, as one perceives, deal with local matters; My so the reporters are not overworked. ‘ m ‘\‘[wm:l Exactly one half of the second page is occupied with an opera- A Oty o criticism, fifty-three lines (three of them being head-lines), and } g g Y tyf ¢ Death Notices,’ ten lines. Wiy, The other half of the second page is made up of two paragraphs under the head of ¢Miscellaneous News.” One of these paragraphs U0 L [ o0 i tells about a quarrel between the Czar of Russia and his eldest son i~k In.tdrm twenty-one and a half lines; and the other tells about the atrocious atter, () destruction of a peasant child by its parents, forty lines, or one-fifth I7SIY gy of the total of the reading matter contained in the paper. by raf’ tle Ly Consider what a fifth part of the reading matter of an American daily paper issued in a city of 170,000 inhabitants amounts to ; think (h wi what a mass it is. Would anyone suppose I could so snugly tuck it away such a mass in a chapter of this book that it would be difficult 1 Gimege Dl tlats to find it again if the reader lost his place? Surely not. I will 08 1y translate that child-murder word for word, to give the reader a realising sense of what a fifth part of the reading matter of a anafher top Munich daily actually is when it comes under measurement of the atter il W& 6= Qe ¢ From Oberkreuzberg, January 21, the “ Donau Zeitufig ” receives a long account of a crime, which we shorten as follows: In Rame- ed and five small The bl of tuach, a village near Eppenschlag, lived a young married couple with 1o il fentin two children, one of which, a boy aged five, was born three years before the marriage. Tor this reason, and also because a relative at {9 remember that Tggensbach had bequeathed 400 marks (100 dollars) to the hoy, the tbeirs of heaven; o beaven, Pere heartless father considered him in the way; so the unnatural parents eI determined to sacrifice him in the cruellest possible manner. The proceeded to starve him slowly to death, meantime frightfully mal- chthe New treating him—as the village people now make known, when it is too e (w0 late. The boy was shut up in a hole, and when people passed by he ta beat £l cried, and implored them to give him bread. His long continued tor- ot u 1y tures and deprivations destroyed him at last, on the $rd of January. s Conss The sudden (sic) death of the child created suspicion, the more so m Vi l as the body was immediately clothed and laid upon the bier. There- frfhnes sl | fore, the coroner gave notice, and an inquest was held on the Gth, s g gt What a pitiful spectacle was disclosed then ! The body was a com- e, o o plete skeleton. The stomach and intestines were utterly empty— bl 4 they contained nothing whatever. The flesh on the corpse was not Vieona, S 159 as thick as the back of a knifo, and incisions in it brought not a drop es; 10 Taodth of blood. There was not a piece of sound skin the size of a dollar on the whole body; wounds, scars, bruises, discoloured extravasated r ar; elefin % i fire 80 e blood, everywhere—even on the soles of the feet there were wounds. Chanty 2% The cruel parents asserted that the boy had been so bad that they had i been obliged to use severe punishments, and that he finally fell over a ot e et gpoert ! bench and broke his neck. However, they were arrested two weeks ed 0 after the inquest, and put in the prison at Dsggendorf.’ { Yes, they were arrested ¢ two weeks after the inquest.” What a i S o z three el 838 A TRAMP ABROAD. home-sound that has. That kind of police briskness rather more re= minds me of my native land than German journalism does. I think a German daily journal doesn’t do any good to speak of, but, at the same time, it doesn’t do any harm, That is a very large merit, and should not be lightly weighed, nor lightly thought of, The German humorous papers are beautifully printed upon fine paper, and the illustrations are finely drawn, finely engraved, and are not vapidly funny, but deliciously so. So, also, generally speaking, are the two or three terse sentences which accompany the pictures. I remember one of these pictures—a most dilapidated tramp is rue- fully contemplating some coins which lie in his open palm ; he says, ¢ Well, begging is getting played out. Only about & marks (1:25 dol- lars) for the whole day ; many an official makes more !’ And I call to mind a picture of a commercial traveller, who is about to unroll his samples :— ~ THE (] ¢ Merchant (pettishly). No, don’t. I don’t want to buy any- thing, Drummer, If you please, I was only going to show you— THE 4 Meychant. But I don’t wish to see them ! Drummer (after a pause, pleadingly). But do you miné letting me look at them? I haven't seen them for three weeks )’ AN ID] THE P e~ TH : [ir TH}? b cloth A TRA Clot LIFE ( LONDON : PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT STREET il (logs, 1t e sl 14K 0 3 ver Y ity i nttd d ) d o )t B i A 0 WORKS BY MARK TWAIN. GUURY 10 1mrof| I 1 THE CHOICE WORKS OF MARK TWAIN. Revised a0 buy aye and Corrected throughout by the Author. With Life, Portrait, and numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7s. 6d. W Y0t~ THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER. With 100 Tllustrations. Small 8vo. cloth extra, 7s. 6.—CHEAP EDITION, illus- Ietting trated boards, 2s. JECKS | Post 8vo. AN IDLE EXCURSION, and other Sketches. illustrated boards, 2s. THE PRINCE AND, THE PAUPER. ‘With nearly 200 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7s. 6d. \ THE INNOCENTS ABROAD; or, The New Pilgrim’s Progress : being some Account of the Steamship ‘Quaker City’s’ Pleasure Excursion to Europe and the Holy Land. With 234 Illus- trations. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7s. 64.—CHEAP EDITION, post 8vo. illustrated boards, 2s. THE STOLEN WHITE ELEPHANT, &c. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 6s.—CHEAP EDITION, post 8vo. illustrated boards, 2s. A TRAMP ABROAD. With 314 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. e cloth extra, 7s. 6d. LIFE ON THE MISSISSIPPI. Illustrations, With over 300 Original Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 7s. 6d. — CHATTO & WINDUS, Piccadilly, W oA 4 e by e & CHAT L . About—The Fe! tian N Trans] Post, limp, 2. 60, Adams (W. Davel by: A Dictlonary of th a.com Pla Pl ho of the m th America, Present T} bound, 1% LatterDay Lymcs AVENPORT ADgy limp, .64, Qulns end Qi AVENPORT A Al 8,64, AdVertlsmg AHi the Bar) st Ti s, Aneodog Curi A\otices of Colour iong, Cloth 5.6 Agony Colym Hmes" from 1oy With ap |, Dtrodye 01 P 5t o, Cloth Jj de (H Carp amiltop V'IyoH trated b fidenc bog Ids, 5 A ol Po:( [Fuly, 1883, 7 A N2 7 A 0 N Aye? 2\ i = (\k’ il £y §/s ~t|p é/ \If R & 2 0 /) ; A 5"' A e - v Ry s &, N/ Iz 2 A iy \ AT i il X e \\WI, A ST e 2 CHATTO & WINDUS’'S LIST "OF Beo@as About.—The Fellah: An Egyp- Alexander (Mrs.), NOVELS by : tian Novel. By EpmoND ABOUT. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each; Translated by Sir RANDAL ROBERTS. crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. ; cloth Malid, Wife, or Widow ? A Romance, limp, 2s. 6d. Valerie’s Fate. Adams (W. Davenport), Works Allen (Grant), Works by : by : Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 68, each. A Dictionary of the Drama. Being a comprehensive Guide to the Plays, The Evolutionist at Large. Second Playwrights, Players, and Play- Edition, revised. houses of the United Kingdom and Vignettes from Nature. America, from the Earliest to the Colin Clout’s Calendar. Present Times. Crown 8vo, half- Strange Stories. With a Frontis- bound, 12s. 6d. [Preparing. piece by GEORGE Du MAURIER. Latter-Day Lyrics. Edited by W. DR YR DAVENPORT ADAMS. Post 8vo, cloth Philistia: A Novel. By CeEciL. POWER limp, 2s. 6d. (GRANT ALLEN). New and Cheaper Quips and Quiddities. Selected by Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. ‘W. DAVENPORT ADAMS. Post 8vo, Architectural Styles, A Hand- cloth limp, 2s. 6d. book of. Translated from the German Advertising, A History of, from of A. ROSENGARTEN, by W. CoLLETT- the Earliest Times. Illustrated by SanDArs. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, with Anecdotes, Curious Specimens, and 639 Illustrations, 7s. 6d. Notices of Successful Advertisers. By HENRY SAMPSON. Crown 8vo; with Artemus Ward : Artemus Ward’s Works: The Works Coloured Frontispiece and Illustra- tions, cloth gilt, 7s. 6d. of CHARLES FARRER BROWNE, better With known as ARTEMUS WARD. Agony Column (The) of “The Portrait and Facsimile. Crown 8vo, Times,” from 1800 to 1870. Edited, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. with an Introduction, by ALiCE CLAY. Artemus Ward’s Lecture on the Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. Mormons. With 32 Illustrations Edited, with Preface, by EDWARD P. HINGSTON. Crown 8vo, 6d. Aide (Hamilton), Works by : Carr of Carrlyon. Post 8vo, illus-_ The Genial Showman: Life and Ad- trated boards, 2s. ventures of Artemus Ward. By Confidences. Post 8vo, illustrated EpwaArp P. HINGSTON. With a boards, 2s. Frontispiece. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 3s. 6d, & 2 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY [ PRaae e Ar‘f (The) of Amusing: A Col- Bechstein. — As Pretty as Besaxt (\‘.‘m:a\ lection of Graceful Arts, Games, Tricks, Seven, and other German Stories. Puzzles, and Charades. By FRANK Collected by LubpwiG BECHSTEIN. Dorathy Forst BELLEW. With 300 Illustrations. Cr. With Additional Tales by the Brothers Editions GrimuM, and 100 Illusts. by RICHTER. GREEN Cnb 8vo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d. SR Small 4to, green and gold, 68. 6d.; Uncle Jack 22d Ashton (John), Works by : ek gilt edges, 7s. 6d. yo, clothextr A History of the Chap-Books of the Beerbohm. — Wanderings in Eighteenth Century. With nearly The Art of Fic 400 Illusts., engraved in facsimile of Patagonia; or, Life among the Ostrich Betham-EdWa the originals. Cr. 8vo,cl. ex., 7s. 6d. Hunters. By JuLius BEErBoHM. With Social Life in the Reign of Queen Illusts. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. by Anne. From Original Sources. With One €al nearly roo Illusts. Cr.8vo,cl.ex.,75.6d. Belgravia for 1885. Felic Shilling Monthly, Illustrated by P. Humour, Wit, and Satire of the Macnas. — A Strange Voyage, by Bewiok (Thos) Seventeenth Century. Withnearly W. Crark RusseLL, is begun in the ByA 100 Illusts Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 7s. 6d. JaNUuARY Number, and will be con- tions S English Caricature and Satire on tinued throughout the year. This Napoleon the Fiprst. 120 Illusts. from Number contains also the Opening Birhday Book Originals. Two Vols., demy 8vo, 288. Chapters of a New Story by CeciL PoweRr, Author of “ Philistia,” entitled The Starry H ve‘ [Bacteria.—A Synopsis of the Birthday Bacteria and Yeast Fungi and Allied Babylon. Somely Species. By W. B. GRoVE, B.A. With ** Now ready, the Volume for MARCH Bifthda{y~Fj ¢ to JuNe, 1883, cloth extra, gilt edges, an 87 Illusts. Crown 8vo, cl. extra, 3s. 6d. 7s. 6d.; Cases for binding Vols., 28. each. Balzac’s “ Comedie Humaine” 10LA and its Author. With Translations by Belgravia Holiday Number. cover, With Stories by F. W. RoBINSON, The Lo H.H.WaLkeRr. Post8vo, cl.limp,2s. 6d. Justin H. McCarTHY, B. MoONT- US1S, rle\i Bir Bankers, A Handbook of Lon- GOMERIE RANKING, and others, Demy Blackburn's (H don; together with Lists of Bankers 8vo, with Illusts., 1s. from 1677. By F. G. HILTON PRICE. Bennett (W.C.,LL.D.),Works by: books, De Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. form o sizehl"orv' A Ballad History of England. Post Academy Notes, éér*dsley (Rev.C.W.),Works by : 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 1815101884 e English Surnames: Their Sourcesand Songs for Sallors. Post 8vo, cloth Academy Notes Significations. Third Ed., revised. limp, 2s. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 7s. 6d. Ulustrations, | Curiosities of Puritan Nomencla- Besant (Walter) and James cademy N i 3 Rice, Novels by. Post 8vo, illust. 1 0rey o] W I tupre. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 78. 6d. boards, 28. each; cloth limp, 2s.6d. B T Facsimil, e Bartholomew Fair, Memoirs each; or cr. 8vo, cl. extra,3s. 6d. each, Aeademy Nteg With 100 Ready-Money Mortiboy. 10 One Volyp of. By HENRY MORLEY. simile [y Illusts. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. This Son of Vulcan. With Harp and Crown. Grostenop ot éasil, Novels by : My Little Girl. TO8VeNor Notes A Drawn Game. Cr. 8vo.,cl. ex., 3s. 6d. The Case of Mr. Lucraft. 8131334‘E The Wearing of the Green. Three The Golden Butterfly. Iosyen, I 0r Note Vols., crown &vo, 31s. 6d. By Celia’s Arbour. UStratjong The Monks of Thelema. 0Svenor Not Beaconsfield, Lord: A Biogra- ’Twas in Trafalgar’s Bay. Ui phy. By T. P. O’CoNNOR, M.P. Sixth The Seamy Side. | 80, clof The Ten Years’ Tenant. Eldit., New Preface. Cr.8vo,<cl.ex‘7s.>6d._ Pictuneg atSogt 70 iy Beauchamp. — Grantley Th?‘Cbgplain of the F_I_get. et s § Grange: A Novel. By SHELSLEY Besant (Walter), Novels by : TheEngigy BEAUCHAMP. Post 8vo, illust. bds., 2s. allery, 1] Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each; Id Mgty Beautiful Pictures by British post 8vo, illust. boards, 2s. each; Gal| €1y, 198 1 cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each. OMpet 1, Artists: A Gathering of Favourites All Sorts and Conditions of Men: from our Picture Galleries. In Two An Impossible Story. With Illustra- Notes atiop Series. All engraved on Steel in the tions by FRED. BARNARD. lusts D highest style of Art. Edited, with The Captains’ Room, &c. With Notices of the Artists, by SypNEY Frontispiece by E. J. WHEELER. Iyt ARMYTAGE, M.A. Imperial 4to, cloth All in a Garden Fair. With 6 [llusts, boy Pateq Caty, extra, gilt and gilt edges, 218. per Vol. y H. Furniss, " G a”epy 50 Repy O top Ty 0gs of 4 R, he - 'S B y o CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 0 Gergyy DWIG BESANT (WALTER), continued— ART HANDBOOKS, continued— 65 by e Dorothy Forster. New a nd Cheaper Usts, by Ry Edition, With Fronti: spiece by CHas, The ParisSalon,1884. With over 300 Illusts, 1 and g 4 GREEN, Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. Edited by F. G. Dumas. | Demy 8vo, 3s. Uncle Jack, and other Stories. Crown The Paris Salon, 1885. With about anderings | 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 300 Facsimile Sketches, w ¢ among " F. G.DuwMas. Edited by | Demy 8vo, 3s. The Art of Fiction. Demy 8v01 ls_. i Th:e Art Annual, 1883-4. Edited by Betham-Edwards (M.), Novels Duwmas. With 300 full-page by. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. SO Illustrat " 188 On Eoi win Dcxixy 8vo, 5s. ns T R af el each, ; post 8vo, illust. bds., 2s. each, Boccaccio s Deca meron ; or, Felicia. = u | ke Kitty. range Voyage, Ten Days’ Entertainment. Translated into En d w i Bewick (Thos.) and his Pubils: glish, with an Introduction by By AusTin DossoN. With g5 Illustra- TuaoMAs WRIGHT, F.S.A. With Portrait, _ tions Square 8v = o and STOTHARD'S beautiful Copper- 0o, cloth ex&rg,lgs,rsg: plates. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, gil t, 7s. 6d. Birthday Books:— i The Starry Heavens: A Poetical Blake (William): Etchings from his Works. Birthday Book., Square 8vo, hand- By W. B. Scort. With somely bound in cloth, 2s. 6d. descriptive Text. Folio, half-bound Birthday Flowers: Their Language T boards, India Proofs, 21s. and Legends. B W. GORDON. Beautifully Illustrated in Colours by Bow?ars’(G.) Hunting Sketches: 10LA BOUGHTON. In illuminated Canters in Cram pshire. Oblong 4to, y'Number, cover, crown 4to, 6s. half-bound boar ds,"21s. ‘olidFa W. Rosixsos, The Lowell Birthday Book. With oy Leaves from a Hunting Journal. Coloured in facsimile of Demy Illusts., small 8vo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d. the originals. t Hand- P TN Ob}l(ing‘ 4to, I?ixlf»bounfl, 218. Blackburn’s (Henry) Ar L0 Works by: books. Demy 8vo, Illustrated, uni- Boyle (Frederick), Works by : form in size for binding, England, 2ot Academy Notes, separate years, from Camp Notes: Stories of Sport and Adventure 1875 to 1884, each Is. in Asia, Africa, and Academy Notes, 1885. America. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, i cr.sl, Past B0, ceb Illustrations, 1s. With 142 38. 6d.; post 8vo, illustrated bds., 2s. Savage Life. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, Academy Notes, 1875-79. Complete 3s. 6d. ; post 8vo, illustrated bds., 2. ter] and Janes in One Vol.,with nearly 600 Illusts. in Chronicles of No-Man’s Land. Facsimile. Demy §vo, cloth limp, 6s. Academy Notes, 1880-84. Complete illust. boards, 2s. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s.; post 8vo, .60, in One Volume, with about 700 Fac- simile Illustrations. Mortiboy. Cloth Iimp, 6s. . Brand’s Observations on Pop- g Crown. Grosvenor Notes, 1877. ular Antiquities, chiefly Illustrating jlean. Grosvenor Notes, separate years, from the Origin of our Vulgar Customs, 1878 to 1884, each 1s. Ceremonies, and Superstitions. With ir, Lucraft Grosvenor Notes, 1885. With 75 the Additions of Sir Henry ELLIS. Illustrations. 1s. tterfly Grosvenor Notes, 1877-82. With Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with pur. numerous Illustrations, 7s. 6d. Thelema. 8vo, cloth limp, 6s. upwards of 300 Illustrations. Demy gar's Bay: Bret Harte, Works by : 1 Pictures at South Kensington. With Bret Harte’s Collected Works. Ar- - enant. 70 Illustrations. 1s. ranged and Revised by the Author. TheEnglish Picturesat the National Complete in Five Vols., crown 8vo, ofthe it 2 £ Gallery. 114 Illustrations. 1s. cloth extra, 6s. each. The Old Masters at the National Vol. I COMPLETE POETICAL AND ,,):Novels by: : Gallery. 128 Illustrations. 1s. 6d. h extra, 5 DravATICc WoORKS. With Steel Por- boards, el A Complete lllustrated Catalogue trait, and Introduction by Author. to the National Gallery. With Vol. II. EARLIER PAPERS—LUCK OF Notes by H. BLACKBURN, and 242 RoARING CaMP,and other Sketches Conditions of Met Illusts. _Demy 8vo, cloth limp, 3s. —BOHEMIAN PAPERS — SPANISH Story. AND AMERICAN LEGENDS. Bar Illustrated Catalogue of the Luxem- Vol. ITII. TALES OF THE ARGONAUTS T bourg Gallery. Containing about | —EASTERN SKETCHES. i 250 Reproductions after the Original 7 E ’;ffi f}fism Drawings of the Artists. Vol. IV. GABRIEL CONROY. o W F. G. Dumas. Edited by Vol. V. STORIES — CONDENSED Demy 8vo, 8s. 6d. NoveLs, &c. ( — 4 — BOOKS PUBEISHED Bz surton (RO BreT HARTE'S WORKS, continmed— Burnett (Mrs.), Novels by : Th o Anatomy Post New Rdition The Select Works of Bret Harte, in Surly Tim, and other Stories. Prose and Poetry. With Introduc- 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. and enrichel tory Essay by J. M. BELLEW, Portrait Kathleen Mavourneen. Fcap. 8vo, Classioal X of the Author, and 50 Illustrations. picture cover, 18. s, 18, 0 Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 78. 6d. Gabriel Conroy: A Novel. Post 8vo, Lindsay’s Luck. Fcap. 8vo, picture Minancvo‘&.“f illustrated boards, 2s. cover, S. Pretty Polly Pemberton. Fcap. 8vo, An Heiress of Red Dog, and other picture cover, S. P Stories. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28. ; cloth limp, 2s. 6d. purton (CaP The Twins of Table Mountain. Fcap Buchanan’s (Robert) Works : Toihe Gold G 8vo, picture cover, 1s.; crown 8vo, Ballads of Life, Love, and Humoupr. cloth extra, 3s. 6d. With a Frontispiece by ARTHUR Luck of Roaring Camp, and other HucHes. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. i} Sketches. Post8vo, illust. bds., 2s. \1 Selected Poems of Robert Buchanan. Jeff Briggs’s Love Story. Fcap. 8vo, With Frontispiece by T. DALZIEL. picture cover, 1s. ; cloth extra, 2s. 6d. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. n:e? Book of | Flip. Post 8vo,illustrated boards, 2s.; Undertones. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. all loth limp, 2s. 6d. London Poems. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 6s. Californian Stories (including THE The Book of Orm. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., 68. TwiNs oF TABLE MOUNTAIN, JEFF White Rose and Red: A Love Story. By Bricgs’s Leve Story, &c.) Post Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 8vo, illustrated boards, 28. By n,' yan's Pil Idylls and Legends of Inverburn. S. ' ‘é Maruja: A Novel. Post 8vo, illust. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, Bit bds., 2s.; cloth limp, 2s. €d. [Sept. St. Abe and his Seven Wives: A Tale of Salt Lake City. With a Frontis- by Brewer (Rev. Dr.), Works by : piece by A. B. HOUGHTON. Crown Crom The Reader’s Handbookof Allusions, 8vo, cloth extra, 5s. Robert Buchanan’sComplete Poeti- Byron (Lord): References, Plots, and Stories. cal Works. Fourth Edition, revised throughout, trait. With Steel-plate Por- Byron's Letter Notices o with a New Appendix, containing a Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. CoMPLETE ENGLISH BIBLIOGRAPHY. The Hebrid Isles: Wanderings in the M Cr. 8vs, 1,400 pp., cloth extra, 7s. 6d. Land of Lorne and the Outer He- W Authors and their Works, with the brides. With Frontispiece by W. Dates: Being the Appendices to SMALL. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 54 “The Reader’s Handbook,’ separ- A Poet’s Sketch-Book: Selections from the Prose Writings of RoBERT Byron's Don J ately printed. Cr. 8vo, clothlimp, 2s. Vol., postévo A Dicticnary of Miracles: Imitative, BucuaNAN. Crown 8vo, cl. extra, 6s. Realistic, and Dogmatic. Crown 8vo, The Shadow of the Sword: A Ro- Cameron '(C cloth extra, 7s. 6d. ; half-bound, 9S._‘ mance. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, Captain Burto 3s. 6d. ; post 8vo, illust. boards, 2s. Erewster’(Sir’David),Works by: A Child of Nature: A Romance. With fovr ICH, :old: AP ARD R More Worlds than One: The Creed a Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth Loverr extra, 3s.6d.; post 8vo, illust. bds., 2s. Ma the Christian. of the Philosopher and the Hope of With Plates. God and the Man : A Romance. With W V Post Illustrations b 8vo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d. FRED. BARNARD. Cafieron ( The Martyrs of Science: Lives of Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post Novels by; GALILEO, TycHO BRAHE, and KEp- 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. ToWD § LER. With Portraits, Post 8vo, cloth The Martyrdom of Madeline: A post extra, 4s. 6d. Romance. With Frontispiece byA.W, Letters on Natural Magic. A New CooPER. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s.6d.; _uliets Guapg post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. Edition, with numerous Illustrations, Love Me for Ever. With a Frontis- Camphell._y and Chapters on the Being and Travels i the Faculties of Man, and Additional piece by P. MACNAB. Crown 8vo, AMPE Phenomena of Natural Magic, by cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, illus- goxss C , 13, J. A. SmitH. Post 8vo, cloth extra, trated boards, 28 4s. 6d. Annan Water: A Romance, Crown Calylp (Tho 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. ; post 8vo, Briggs, Memoir of Gen. John. illust. boards, 2s. homas g By Major Evans BEeLL. With a Por- The NewAbelard: A Romance. Crown ons, ‘c‘?\leckti A C trait. Royal 8vo, Qioth extra, 7s. 6d. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, Wi ustragi illust. boards, 2s. On the Choice, BrilIat»°avarin.—-Gastr’onomy Foxglove Manor: A Novel, Crown ARLyLp as a Fine Art. By BRILLAT-SAVARIN, 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. H 1t Translated by R. E. ANDERSON, M.A. Matt: A Story of a Caravan, Crown Post 8vo, cloth limp, 28. 6d. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. CHA.TTO & IV{;\Z—DEJS, PICCADILLY. Sl R e S Novely by | CARLYLE (THOMAS), continued— ABlwton (Robert) : e The Anatomy of Melancholy. A The Correspondence of Thomas. New Edition, complete, corrected Cavrlyleand Ralph Waldo Emerson. YouPneen, and enriched by Translations of the 1834 to 1872. Edited by CHARLES Classical Extracts. Demy 8vo, cloth Evr1or NorToN. With Portraits. Two ¢k F Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, 24s. extra, 7s. 6d. Melancholy Anatomised: Being an Chapman’s (George) Works: Abridgment, for popular use, of BUR- Vol. I. contains the Plays complete, :eT:hmcn‘ B TON’S ANATOMY OF MELANCHOLY. Vol. II., ?ost 8vo, cloth limp, 28. 6d. including the doubtful ones. the Poems and Minor Translations, (Ro Dert) Workg Burton (Captain), Works by : with an Introductory Essay by ALGER- fe, Love,and Ky To the Gold Coast for Gold: A Per- NON CHARLES SWINBURNE. Vol, III., sonal Narrative. By RicHARD F. BUR- the Translations of the Iliad and Odys- ToN and VERNEY LovETT CAMERON. sey. Three Vols., crown 8vo, cloth e With Maps and Frontispiece. Two extra, 18 Qisepqrfirtglyr,fs. each. Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, 218. Chatto &Jackson.—A Treatise The Book of the Sword: Being a on Wood Engraving, Historical and History of the Sword and its Use in Practical. jem all Countries, from the Earliest By WM. ANDREW CHATTO With an Addi- Times. By RicHarD F. BURTON. and JOHN JACKSON. of Orm. C With over 400 Illustrations. Square tional Chapter by HENRY G. BOHN ; d R 8vo, cloth extra, 32s. and 450 fine Illustrations. A Reprint of the last Revised Edition. Large nds of Inver Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Pr'ogr*esfisi. 4to, half-bound, 28s. With 17 Edited by Rev. T. ScoTT. Chaucer: ven Wives Steel Plates by SToTHARD, engraved Children: A Golden by GoopaLL, and numerous Woodcuts. Chaucer for TON. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 7s. 6d. Key. By Mrs. H. R. Hawers. With Eight Coloured Pictures and nu- nan'sComplete Byron (Lord): merous Woodcuts by the Author. e Byron’s Letters and Journals. With New Ed., small 4to, cloth extra, 6s. Notices of his Life. By TrHoMmAS EXl MOORE. A Reprint of the Original Chaucer for Schools. By Mrs. H. R. Isles Haweis. Demy 8vo, cloth limp, 28.6d. ne and the Edition, newly revised, with Twelve h Fro full-page Plates. Crown 8vo, cloth Clodd. — Myths and Dreams. extra, gilt, 7s. 6d. By Epwarp Cropp, F.R.A.S., Author 0, d Byron’s Don Juan. Complete in One of “The Childhood of Religions,” &c. toh-Book: own 8vo, cloth extra, 58. , Vol,, post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. Wi OV 0, ol Cameron (Commander) and Ci y7The) of Dream : A Poem w of the Swo oth for Gold: A Personal Narrative. Captain Burton.—To the Gold Coast By Fcap. 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. [In the press. Crown 8vo, d Cobban.—The Cure of Souls: ost 80, llust: m RicHArRD F. BURTON and VERNEY \atu ¢:AR0 fy LoverT CAMERON. Frontispiece and A Story. By J. MACLAREN COBBAN. Cr Maps. Two Vols., cr. 8vo, cl. ex., 215_. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. = post 8v0, s P A Romant Cameron (Mps. H. Lovett), Coleman.—Curly: A Novelette. e Man Frep. B Novels by: By Joux CoLE MaN. Illustrated by J. C. s b Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each; DOLLMAN. o e . 8vo, 1s.; cloth, 1s. 6d. clot! he xira, 3 trate 4 boards post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. Collins (C. Aliston).—The Bar om 0 Made Juliet’s Guardian. | Deceivers Ever. Sinister: A Story. By C. ALLSTON CorLiNs. Post 8vo, illustrated bds.,?s. With Frontis? cloth ext Campbell.—White and Black: r, 8v0, 4 boards, Travels in the United States. By Sir Collins (Mortimer & Frances), il Justraté afi GEORGE CamPBELL, M.P. Demy 8vo, Novels by : for EV y W cloth extra, 14s. MACNA! 5, Com Sweet and Twenty. Post 8vo, illus- i, post o 0, Eafi*iyle (Thomas) : trated boards, 28. {ra, Thomas Carlyle: Letters and Re- Frances. Post 8vo, illust. bds., 2s. 0ards, Romancé: collections. By MoNcure D. Con- ater Blacksmith and Scholar. Post 8vo, th estrd 5 WAY, .A. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, illustrated boards, 2. ; crown 8vo, with Illustrations, 6s. cloth extra, 3s. 6d. cards, &8 A Romancé ¢ On the Choice of Books. By THomAS The Village Comedy. Post 8vo, illust. Abelar 55, 6.5 CarLYLE. With a Life of the Author oth extrd, by R. H. SHEPHERD. New and Re- boards, 28.; cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. j0ards, 25: A Noweh o vised Edition, post 8vo, cloth extra, You Play Me False. Post 8vo, illust. , Manor Illustrated, 1s. 6d. boards, 28; cr. §vo; cloth extra, 3s. 6d. (# th estré. Caravéh {0l \th extré CH 6 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY ] X Cru 1RoHANK (G The Lot C& Collins (Mortimer), Novels by : Conway (Moncure D.), Works BuacasRd ) Sweet Anne Page. Post 8vo, illus- Yy WThe Life 0 trated boards, 28.; crown 8vo, cloth With 8 1S extra, 3s. 6d. Demonology and Devil-Lore. Two heaper B0 Vols., royal 8vo, with 65 1llusts., 28s. ditional Plates Transmigration. Post 8vo,illust.bds., A Necklace of Stories. Illustrated 2s.; crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. HENNESSY. Square 8vo, compiled Biblio From Midnight to Midnight. Post cloth extra, 6s. lothextrs T8 8vo, illustrated boards, 28.; crown Robinson C 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. The Wandering Jew. Crown 8vo, productl jon i A Fight with Fortune. Post 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. Voo Jont 5 4l illustrated boards, 2s. Thomas Carlyle: Letters and Re- collections. With Illustrations, Collins (Wilkie), Novels by. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. prnted, IO Each post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s; . cloth limp, 2. 6d.; or crown 8vo, P nted 02 cloth extra, 1llustrated, 3s. 6d. Cook (Dutton), Works by : India pre Antonina. Illust, by SirJouNGILBERT. Hours with the Players. With a Basil. Illustrated by Sir JouN Gir- Steel Plate Frontispiece. New and 6ussans,—Han? BERT and J. MAHONEY. Cheaper Edit., cr. 8vo, cloth extra,6s. Hide and Seek. Pe gld with Inszg; Illustrated by Sir Nights at the Play: A View of the &e. By ] JouN GILBERT and J. MAHONEY. English Stage. New and Cheaper Enf ew The Dead Secret. Illustrated by Sir Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. h ot JoHN GILBERT. Leo: A Novel. Post 8vo, illustrated fed Queen of Hearts, 1llustrated by Sir boards, 2s. oloured Pla JoHN GILBERT. c]oaf.he i, s, 6d. My Miscellanies. With a Steel-plate Paul Foster’s Daughtep. Post 8vo, Portrait of WiLkie CoLLINs. illustrated boards, 2s.; 5 crown 8vo, The Woman in White. With Illus- cloth extra, 3s. 6d. b stha Cigles.—Hgg : LA trations by Sir JouN GILBERT and cloth ext F. A. FRASER. Copyright. — A rl:l;.ndbo-gki of’ piiot The Moonstone. With Illustrations English and Foreign Copyright in Literary and Dramatic Works. Man and Wife. by .DuMaurigrand F. A. FRASER. SIDNEY JERROLD, of the Middle By Daniel, — Mern{( Illust. by W. SmarL, the Olden Time, | Poor Miss Finch. Illustrated by Temple, Esq., Barrister-at-Law. Post With tio tior G. Du MAURIER and EDWARD —_— 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. i) HuGHES. ShAL Crown i Miss or Mrs.? With Illustrations by Cornwall.—PopularRomances . L. FiLpEs and HENRY 0ODS. of the West of England; or, The Daudet.—Port The New Magdalen. Illustrated by Drolls, Traditions, and Superstitions The Bvangel G. Du MAURIER an C. S. RANDs. of Old Cornwall. Collected and Edited AUDET, Tr The Frozen Deep. by RoserT HunT, F.R.S. New and Mt TZER, Wit G. Du MAURIER and ]J. MAHONEY. Illustrated by Revised Edition. A Town Two Steel-plate , with Additions, and 8,64 The Law and the Lady. Illustrated Illustrations by ovo, The Two Destinies. Y . L. FILDES and SyDNEY HALL, GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. Crown 8vo, cloth exrtra, 7s. 64. S Davenant, The Haunted Hotel. Illustrated by on he? Hints ARTHUR HoPKINS. (A)Vr*easy.—Memoi;’s ;);’ ETnl nenf 1t a Prof The Fallen Leaves. Etonians : with Notic thy Son Jezebel’s Daughter. History of Eton Col es of the Early If A Po 0, ¢} The Black Robe. EDpwARD CRrEASY, Author of lege. By Sir Heart and Science: A Story of the (he bavi&o}f N Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World.” Present iljime. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with 13 0Nt Thoyggng ST et Portraits, 78. 6d. S Sl Stk T0%D 8y, 15 4 glay No.” Crown 8vo, cloth extra, ey Hintg Cruikshank (G_eor*ge) 0w §; 0,15, Colman’s Humorous Works : [stol_ ong The Comic Almanack. Complete in cloth b.g ¢ Broad Grins,” “My Nightgown and Two SERIES: The Firs 2 T from 1835 Slippers,” and other Humorous Works, to 1843; the Skconp f Tom 1844 to Davieg Si Prose and Poetical, of GEORGE CorL- 1853. A Gathering o f the Best Pogtj MAN., With Life by G. B. BUCKSTONE, HuMOoUR of THACKERAY, Hoop, May- 0L, al Vo M, and Frontispiece by HocArTH. Crown HEW, ALBERT SMITH, A’ BeckeTT, %, ang 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 7s. 6d. ROBERT BRrouGH, &c. With 2,000 Publieq M Woodcuts and Stee 1 Engravings by Ollctey dand by it Convalescent Cookery: A CRUIKSHANK, HINE, LANDELLS, &C. Tntrogy Ction ang ) Family Handbook, By CATHERINE Crown 8vo, cloth gilt , two ve: 034R7, RvaN, Crown 8vo, 18.; cloth, 1s.6d. I volumes, 7s. 6d. each, ry thick tomg MR oty 7 CHATTO & WINDUS, ‘PICCADILLY. CRruiksHANK (G.), continued— g ) De Maistre.—A JourneyRound org The Life of George Cruikshank. By My Room. By XAVIER DE MAISTRE. BLANCHARD ERROLD, Author of Translated by HENRY ATTWELL. Post 4 Deyiy O, T ‘“The Life o Napoleon III.,” &c. _8vo, cloth limpr,WZSV.VGd. With 84 Illustrations. New and | Cheaper Edition, enlarged, with Ad- De Mille.—A Castle in Spain. ditional Plates, and a very carefully A Novel. By JamEs DE MiLLE, With compiled Bibliography. Crown 8vo, a Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth eloth extra, 7s. 6d. g dow, (g extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, illust. bds., 2s. Robinson Crusoe. A beautiful re- production of Major’s Edition, with Derwent (Leith), Novels by : Lettezrs an d 37 Woodcuts and Two Steel Plates Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8yo, 0 E.' by GrorGE CRUIKSHANK, choicely illustrated boards, 28 printed. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, Our Lady of Tears. Sy o 7s. 6d. A few Large-Paper copies, Circe’s Lovers. ) Workshy, printed on hand-made paper, with the India proofs of the Illustrations, 36s. Dickens (Charles), Novels by Playe Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. bussans.—Handbook of Her- Sketches by Boz. A Pickwick Papers. Nicholas Nickleby. 1} aldry; with Instructions for Tracing Oliver Twist. Pedigrees and Deciphering Ancient The Speeches of Charles Dickens. MSS., &c. By Jomn E. Cussans. Entirely New and Revised Edition, limp, 2s. 6d. (Mayfair Library.) Post 8vo, cloth illustrated with over 400 Woodcuts and Coloured Plates. Crown 8vo, The Speeches of Charles Dickens, nter, 1841-1870. With a New Bibliography, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. revised and enlarged. Edited and Cyples.—Hearts of Gold: A Prefaced by RicHARD HERNE SHEP- Novel. By WirLiam CYPLES, Crown HERD. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 68. -A Hérrxfiborcrk of 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, About England with Dickens.’ By fo illuftrated boards, 2s. ALFRED RIMMER. With 57 Illustra- Copy o W Daniel. — Merrie England in tions by C. A. VANDERHOOF, ALFRED the Olden Time. By GEORGE DANIEL. RIMMER, and others, Sq. 8vo, cloth With Illustrations by RosT. CRUIK- extra, 10s. 6d. 3. 0 sHANK. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. Dictionaries: s it A Dictionary of Miracles: Imitative, Fobulagfiémancss Daudet.—Port Salvation; or, Realistic, and Dogmatic. By the En, gland o, The Evangelist. By ALPHONSE Rev. E. C. BREWER, LL.D. Crown Daupger. Translated by C. Harry 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d.; bf.-bound, 9s. MELTZER. With Portrait of the The Reader’'s Handbook of Allu- Author. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, sions, References, Plots, and 3s. 6d. ; post 8vo, illust. boards, 2s. Stories. By the Rev. E. C. BREWER, D revised Cr Davenant. —What shall~}n§ Fourth Edition, Son be? Hints for Parents on the throughout, with a New Appendix, L Choice of a Profession or Trade for containing a Complete English Bib- their Sons. licgraphy. Crown 8vo, 1,400 pages, m O‘[,\srorf :E}j%inent By Francis DAVENANT, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. of toe M.A. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 28. 6d. Authors and their Works, with the Dates. Being the Appendices to C Davies (Dr. N. E.), Works by : “The Reader’s Handbook,” sepa- or 0 One Thousand Medical Maxims. rately printed. By the Rev. Dr ofthe Crown 8vo, 1s.; cloth, 1s.6d. BrewER. Crown 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. B Nursery Hints: A Mother’s Guide. Familiar Allusions: A Handbook Crown 8vo, 1s.; cloth, 1s. 6d. of Miscellaneous Iaformation; in- S S Aids to Long Life. Crown 8vo, 28.; cluding the Names of Celebrated cloth limp, 2s. 6d. eonge)! Statues, Paintings, Palaces, Country omplete 2 Davies’ Seats, Ruins, Churches, Ships, imanack. C First from 18 (Sir John) Complete Streets, Clubs, Natural Curiosities, ggoonD from 1o m Poetical Works, including Psalms I. and the like. By Wwm. A: WHEELER to L. in Verse, and other hitherto Un- and CHARLES G. WHEELER. Demy no of the published MSS., for the first time 8vo, cloth extra, 78. 6d. THACKERAT) Collected and Edited, with Memorial- Short Sayings of Great Men. Witk RT SMITH, yBecE! Introduction and Notes, by the Rev. Historical and Esxplanatory Notes. RO 1 With 200 . B. GrosarT, D.D. Two Vols., By SamueL A. BEnT, M,A, emy Steel Eagra¥ 108 crown 8vo, cloth boards 12s. 8vo, cloth extra 7s, 6d. NDELLS Ky [ o‘mlhl 1oth gilt 61,660 8 BOOI&LS : PUBLISHED' BY - Eyes, e D’XCTIONARIES, continued— DramaTisTs, THE OLD, continued— Pyes, a0 d How A Dictionary of the Drama: Being Massinger’s Plays. From the Text of iy BROVAING a comprehensive Guide to the Plays, WiLriaM GIFFORD. Edited by Col. Playwrights, Players, and Playhouses CUNNINGHAM. One 5 17} llustrations. of the United Kingdom and America, from the Earliest to the Present Dyer. — The Folk-Lore of Fairholt.—T0 Times. Plants. By T. F. THISELTON DYER, tory and Ass By W. DAVENPORT ADAMS. count of fhe 2 A thick volume, crown 8vo, half- M.A., &c. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, factue, and 1 bound, 12s. 6d. [n preparation. 7s. 6d. [In preparation, Agesand Countr The Slang Dictionary: Etymological, pour, FSA. Historical, and Anecdotal. Crown Early English Poets. Edited, jons by | 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. 6d. with Introductions and Annotations, 1l extra, Women of the Day: A Biographical by Rev. A. B. GrosarT, D.D. Crown §o, cl 8vo, cloth boards, 6s. per Volume. Dictionary. ByFrances Havs. Cr. Fletcher’s (Giles, B.D.) Complete Familiar AHu§ 8vo, cloth extra, 5s. Poems. One Vol. boo Words, Facts, and Phrases: A Dic- Davies’ John) including the tionary of Curious, Quaint, and Out- Poetical Works. (Sir Two Vols. Complete St all of-the-Way Matters. By ELIEZER I Epwarps. New and Cheaper Issue. Herrick’s (Robert) Complete Col- e al Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., 7s. 6d. ; hf.-bd., 9s. lected Poems. Three Vols. Sidney’s (Sir Philip) Complete Wi Diderot.—T he Paradox of Act- Poetical Works. Three Vols. * Note and C; 1S G. ing. Translated, with Annotations, Herbert(l};rd)otherbur‘y’s Poems. $io, cloth extra, 78 from Diderot’s ¢ Le Paradoxe sur le Edited, with Introduction, by J. Comédien,” by WALTER HERRIES CHURTON COLLINS. Crown 8vo, PorLoCK. With a Preface by HENRY Faraday (Miche IRVING. Cr. 8vo, in parchment, 4s. 6d. parchment, 8s. The Chemical His Edwardes (Mrs. A.), Novels by: Lectures € Dobson (W. T.), Works by : A Point of Honour. Literary Frivolities, Fancies, Follies, Post 8vo, illus- d by W ILLI trated boards, 2s. clothex and Frolics. Post 8vo, cl. 1p., 2s. 6d. Archie Lovell. Post 8vo, illust. bds., Il Poetical Ingenuities and Eccentri- 2s.; crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. rations, 48, cities. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. On the Various | Doran. — Memories of our Eggleston.—Roxy: A Novel. By and their R Epwarp EGGLESTON. Post 8vo, illust, Lestures del It Great Towns; with Anecdotic Glean- boards, 2s. ¢ ings concerning their Worthies and Au_d.iente at 1€ their Oddities. By Dr. oHN DORAN, Emanuel.—On Diamonds and Post 8o, F.S.A. With 38 Illustrations. New ] €) and Cheaper Ed., cr. 8vo, cl. ex., 7s. 6d. Precious Stones: their History,Value, lllustrat1nnglfis. and Properties ; with Simple Tests for Drama, A Dictionary of the. ascertaining their Reality. By HARRY Farver, — Mil EwmaNvEL, F.R.G.S. With numerous and Custom S. Being a comprehensive Guide to the Illustrations, tinted and plain. Crown of Plays, Playwrights, Players, and Play- 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 6s. Am“r.or 5" 8. C houses of the United Kingdom and America, from the Earliest to the Pre- Englishman’s House, The: A Fin-Bec, T} sent Times. By W. DAVENPORT Practical Guide to all interested in ADAMS. (Uniform with BREWER’S Papers: Obsery Selecting or Building a House, with Ving and Dipi “Reader’'s Handbook.”) Crown §vo, full Estimates of Cost, Quantities, &c. 8v0, cloth limp, és half-bound, 12s. 6d. [In preparation. By C. J. RICHARDSON. Third Edition. Nearly 60o Illusts. Cr. 8vo,cl. ex.,7s.6d. Fitzgeralg (pg Dramatists, The Old. Cr. 8vo, cl. ex., Vignette Portraits, 6s. per Vol. Ewald (Alex. Charles, F.S.A.), e Recreations Ben Jonson’s Works. With Notes Works by : 0¢s Wr Critical and Explanatory, and a Bio- allctiogg of graphical Memoir by WM. GIFFORD. Stories from the State Papers. ad g Edit. by Col. CUNNINGHAM. 3 Vols. With an Autotype Facsimile. Crown Working i, Chapman’s Works. Complete in 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. Three Vols. Vol. I. contains the The Life and Times of Prince Crowy rd gy Plays complete, including doubtful Charles Stuart, Count of Albany, Little Essa, ones; Vol. II., Poems and Minor commonly called the Young Pre- 8o, Lettes Translations, with IntroductoryEssay tender. From the State Papers and cloth byA.C.SwWINBURNE; Vol.III., Trans- other Sources. New and Cheaper lations of the Iliad and Odyssey. Edition, with a Portrait, crown 8vo, 8o, Marlowe’s Works. Including his cloth extra, 7s. 6d. OS; | g i;:;galg Translations. Edited, with Notes Studies Re-studied : Historical he Polly, 3 Secong and Introduction, by Col. CUNNING- HAM., One Vol, Sketches from Original Sources. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, 128, e nt Layd.yflv:faé‘; CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 9 . Play Eyes, The.—How to Use our Fletcher’s (Giles, B.D.) Com- Eyes, and How to Preserve Them. By plete Poems: Christ’s Victorie in JouN Browning, F.R.A.S., &c. With 52 Illustrations. 1s.; cloth, 1s. 6d. Heaven, Christ’s Victorie on Earth, € Fol.\op Christ’s Triumph over Death, and Fairholt.—Tobacco: Its His- Minor Poems. With Memorial-Intro- duction and Notes by the Rev. A. B tory and Associations; with an Ac- GrosarT, D.D. Cr. 8vo, cloth bds.,Gs!r count of the Plant and its Manu- facture, and its Modes of Use in all Fonblanque.—Filthy Lucre: A ish Pogts Ages and Countries. By F. W, FAIr- Novel. By ALBANY DE FONBLANQUE. HoLT, F.S,A, With upwards of 100 D.G Illustrations by the Author. Crown _ Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. o S0 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. Francillon (R. E;), Novels by: 6 Familiar Allusions: A Hand- Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 8s. 6d.each; post 8vo, illust. boards, 2s. each. book of Miscellaneous Information ; Olympia. Queen Cophetua. Works, including the Names of Celebrated One by One. __A Real Queen. t) Comp i Statues, Paintings, Palaces, Country Seats, Ruins, Churches, Ships, Streets, Esther’s Glove. Fcap. 8vo, picture S Clubs, Natural Curiosities, and the cover, like. y WiLLiaMm A. ‘WHEELER, W French Literature, History of. Author of “ Noted Names of Fiction ;”? and CHARLES G. WHEELER. By HENrY VAN LAUN. Complete in nd)of Cherby Demy _3 Vols., demy 8vo, cl. bds., 7s. 6d. each. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. Fr*ere.——Pandur*ang Hari; or, Faraday (Michael), Works by : Memoirs of a Hindoo. With a Preface The Chemical History of a Candle: by Sir H. BARTLE FRERE, G.C.S.I., &c. Lectures delivered before a Juvenile sf Mrs‘ A, Novelst Audience at the Royal Institution. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post Honour, Pos Edited by WiLriam Crookes, F.C. 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. Friswell.—One of Two: A Novel, Post 8vo, cloth extra, with numerous Illustrations, 4s. 6d. By Hain FrRISWELL. Post 8vo, illus- On the Various Forces of Nature, _ trated boards, 2s. —Rox, and their Relations to each other: Lectures delivered before a Juvenile Frost (Thomasj,iVVo rks by : Audience at the Royal Institution. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each. Edited by WirLriam CrookEs, F.C.S. Circus Life and Circus Celebrities. | | The Lives of the Conjurers. Post 8vo, cloth extra, with numerous The Old Showmen and tne Old -0n Diamopds i Illustrations, 4s. 6d. London Fairs. Farrer. — Military Manners and Customs. By A. FARRER, Fry.—Royal Guide to London W Author of “Primitive Manners and Chavities, 1885-6. By HERBERT FRry. Pl all Customs,” &c. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. Showing their Name, Date of Founda- tion,Objects,Income,Officials,&c. Pub- Fin-Bec.—The Cupboard an's House, T _ lished Annually. Cr. 8vo, cloth, 1s. 6d. to all Papers : Observations on the Art of Gardening Books: nga H Living and Dining. By Fin-Bec. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. Sd:, A Year’s Work in Garden and Green- house: Practical Advice to Amateur SO Fitzgerald (Percy), Works by : o Gardeners as to the Management of Cr.8v0, The Recreations of a Literary Man ; the Flower,Fruit,and Frame Garden. or, Does Writing Pay? With Re- By GEORGE GLENNY. Post 8vo, 1s. : l collections of some Literary Men, cloth, 1s. 6d. lex. Charles; and a View of a Literary Man’s Our Kitchen Garden: The Plants we Working Life. Cr.8vo, cloth extra, 6s. Grow, and How we Cook Them. m the Stat o P Fac: Imuie: The World Behind the Scenes. By ToM JERROLD. Post 8vo, 1s.; Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. cloth limp, 1s. 6d. Little Essays: Passages from the Household Horticulture: A Gossip ' T 6 ? Df' Letters of CHARLES LAMB, Post about Flowers. By Tom and JANE unt 0f 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. JerroOLD. Illustrated. Post&vo, 1s. : Stua e ¥ : cloth limp, 1s. 6d. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. The Garden that Paid the Rent. 0d Bella Donna. | Never Forgotten. By ToM JERROLD. The Second Mrs. Tillotson. Fcap. 8vo, illus- Wi 2 PortE aff, 10T Polly. trated cover, 1s.; cloth limp, 1s. 6d. My Garden Wild, and What I Grew ire 3,8 6 Seventy-five Brooke Street. there. ByF.G.HgaTH. Crown 8vo, Re-stud! nzmal The Lady of Brantome. cloth extra, 53.; gilt edges, 6s. g 11t 15 Joth €xtré 0 10 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY GouoEN L BRARY, ' Shell ey"s' Pr 1056 Garrett.—The Capel Giris: A | Glenny.—A Year’s Work in Refutation of Novel. By EDWARD GARRETT. Post Trvyne, &C: 8vo,illust.bds., 2. ; cr.8vo, cl.ex., 3s. 6d. Advice to Amateur Gardeners as to Garden and Greenhouse: Practical White's Natur te and Frame Garden. the Management of the Flower, Fruit, porne. Edi Gentleman’s Magazine (The) By GEORGE Triouas BroV for 1885. One Shilling Monthly. A GLENNY. Post 8vo, 1s.; cloth, 1s. 6d. New Serial Story, entitled “The Golden Treas Unforeseen,” by Arice O’HANLON, Godwin.—Lives of the Necro- The: An BXCI begins in the January Number. mancers. By Wirriam GoDWIN. nioxs from Wi “Science Notes,” by W. MATTIEU Post 8vo, cloth limp, 28. Countries. WiLL1AMS, F.R.A.S., and “Table Tg{mm’ :‘C.lé Talk,” by SyLvaNus URBAN, are also Golden Library, The: gilt and continued monthly. Square 16mo (Tauchnitz size), cloth > Gordon Cum! * * Now ready, the Volume for JANUARY limp, 28. per volume. to JuNE, 1885, cloth extra, price 8s. 6d.; Bayard Taylor’s Diversions of the Cases for binding, 2s. each. Echo Club. an'.yn:e Hebrides. and pum Bennett’s (Dr. W. C.) Ballad History Dem; German Popular Stories. Col- of England. lected by the Brothers GrimM, and il Translated by Engar TavLor. Edited, Bennett’s (Dpr.) Songs for Sailors, \ntfie Hima\axas with an Introduction, by JouN RUSKIN. Byron’s Don Juan. With Godwin’s (William) Lives of the E!aifls. emy O GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. With 22z Illustrations on Steel by Necromancers. Square 8vo, Via Cornwefl t 0 ure cloth extra, 6s. 6d. ; gilt edges, 7,5' 6d. Holmes’s Autocrat of the Break clo fast Table. With an Introduction Bisels ey Gibbon, (Charles), Novels by : by G. A. SALA. Graham. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 38. 6d. each; Holmes’s Professor at the Break post 8vo, illustra_ted boards, 28. each. fast Table. Wi AS Robin Gray. InPastures Green For Lack of Gold. Braes of Yarrow. Hood’s Whims and Oddities. Com- What will the The Flower of the plete. All the original Illustrations. World Say ? Forest. Irving’s (Washington) Tales of a Greeks and Ro In Honour Bound. A Heart’s Prob- Traveller. e, Described In Love and War. I 3 . By Enx The GoldenShaft. Irving’s (Washington) Tales of the For the King. of the Alhambra. German Ed Queen Of High Degree. Jesse’s (Edward) Scenes and Oc = W Meadow. i cupations of a Country Life. Post 8vo, illustrated b_oards, 28, o wand Ch : The Dead Heart. Lamb’s Essays of Elia. Both Series clotn r 5, 6. Complete in One Vol. Crown 8vo, cIotk'lhé)A(t};, 3S 6d. each. Leigh Hunt’s Essays: A Tale for a Greenwo(;d (Ja‘ Chimney Corner, and other Pieces. The Wilds of L Fancy F_ ree. | Loving a Dream. With Portrait, and Introduction by Cloth extra, 3, By Mead and Stream. Three Vols., EpMUND OLLIER, LowLife Deeps; crown 8vo, 31s. 6d. Strange B A Hard Knot. Three Vols., 31s. 6d. Mallory’s (Sir Thomas) Mort T0Wn Heart’s Delight. Three Vols., crown d’Arthur: The Stories of Kin 8vo, 31s. 6d. Arthur and of the Knights of the Dick Temp) Round Table. Edited by B. MoNT- illusrateq hog Gilbert (William), Novels by : GOMERIE RANKING. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. Pascal’s Provincial Letters. A New Guyot 6 ...: The Dr. Austin’s Guests. Translation, with Historical Intro- or, Ph | Ge 1o the Hj The Wizard of the Mountain. ductionand Notes,byT.M’Cr1E,D.D. Aryorp James Duke, Costermonger. Pope’s Poetical Works. Complete. TOl Rochefoucauld’s Maxims and Movral 12 Mapg and Gilbert (W. S.), Original Plays Reflections. With Notes, and In- by: In Two Series, each complete in troductory Essay by SAINTE-BEUVE. e Cologreg Crown § itself, price 2s. 6d. each. 10, o The FirsT SERIES contains— The St. Pierrels Paul and Virginia, and Hai (Ther: Wicked World—Pygmalion and Ga- The Indian Cottage. Edited, with latea — Charity — The Princess — The Life, by the Rev. E. CLARKE. Health, al Palace of Truth—Trial by Jury. Shelley’s Early Poems, and Queen Trangeq 0 The SECOND SERIES contains—Bro- Mab. With Essay by LEicr HunT. XU gy ken Hearts—Engaged—Sweethearts— Shelley’s Later Poems: Laon and Hake (o7 Gretchen—Dan’l Druce—Tom Cobb— Cythna, &c. Poer 8 by: H.M.S. Pinafore—The Sorcerer—The Shelley’s Posthumous Poems, the Maiden Pirates of Penzance. R Shelley Papers, &c. €1t g, CS‘tas CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY. II y GoLDEN L1BRARY, THE, continued— Haxe'’s (Dr. T. G.) PoEwmS, continued— 0k 1y Shelley’s Prose Works, including A New Symbols. Cr.8vo, cloth extra, 6s. Moy, Refutation of Deism, Zastrozzi, St. Legends of the Morrow. Crown 8vo, Irvyne, &c. cloth extra, 68. White’s Natural History of Sel- borne. The Serpent Play. Crown 8vo,cloth 1) Edited, with Additions, by LRI extra, GE: * TrHomas BrRown, F.L.S. Hall.—Sketches of Irish Cha- S 0F thg gy racter. .ivE W | 0 Golden Treasury offi’hought, numerous Illustrations on Steel and By Mrs. S. C. HaLr. With v.:m Goomy, The: An ENCYCLOPZEDIA OF QUOTA- TIONS from Writers of all Times and Wood by MacLISE, GILBERT, HARVEY, Countries. Selected and Edited by and G. CRUIKSHANK. Medium 8vo, THEODORE TA¥LOR. Crown 8vo,.cloth cloth extra, gilt, 7S:776d.. frgw‘ The gilt and gilt edges, 7s. 6d. s 2 Hall Caine.—The Shadow of a Gov’dfm Cumming(C.F.),Works Crime: A Novel. By HarLr CAINE, :fiors Diversions of the Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. [Shortly. In tyh.e Hebrides. With Autotype Fac- simile and numerous full-page Illus- Hallidéy.—Every-day Papers. ‘n Ddr H.C) Ballag Histoy trations, Demy 8vo, cloth extra, By ANDREW HALLIDAY. Post 8vo, 8s. 6d. ety e illustrated boards, 28. E Or) Songs fo Saiory 0n duan, ‘ Inthe Himalayas and on the Indian Plains. Wit numerous Illustra- Handwriting, The Philosophy (Wilam) Lives of te of. Withover 100 Facsimiles and Ex- ancers, tions. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, 8s. 6d. planatory Text. By Do~ FELIX DE Via Cornwall to Egypt. With a j utoorat of f i Brea Photegravure Frontispiece. Demy _ SarLamanca. Post 8vo, cl. limp, 28.6d. sl o e, W than I 8vo, cloth extra,js.__{i_d, Hanky-Panky: A Collection of ALA, Very EasyTricks,Very Difficult Tricks, Graham. — The Professor’s White Magic, Sleight of Hand, &c. frcr‘essor at the Bk Wife : A Story. By LEONARD GRAHAM. With 200 le, Fcap. 8vo, picture cover, 18.; cloth Edited by W. H. CREMER. wfis and Odditles extra, 2s. 6d. w Illusts. Crown 8vo, q{oth extra,4s. 6d. Greeks and Ror"ri\»ans, The Life Hardy (Lady Duffus). — Paul iashington) Teles of of the, Described from Antique Monu- Wynter’s Sacrifice: A Story. By ments. By ErnNsT GUuHL and W. Lady Durrus HARDY. Post 8vo, illusty. ‘Ashington) Tales of KONER. Translated from the Third boards, 2s. German Edition, and Edited by Dr. F. HUEFFER. Hardy (Thomas)—Under the Mard) Soenes and 0 With 545 Illustrations. Greenwood Tree. By THoMas HARDY, s New and Cheaper Edition, demy 8vo, Author of ‘“Far from the Madding s of & Couny Lie cloth extra, 78. 6d. Crowd.”” Crown 8vo, cloth extra, ays of El n 0 n eV Greenwood (James),Works by : ~ 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, illustrated bds., 28. 's Essays The Wilds of London. Crown 8vo, Haweis (Mrs. H. R.), Works by : ner, an cloth extra, 3s. 6d. The Art of Dress. With numerous t and [nfroductd Low-Life Deeps: An Account of the Illustrations. Small 8vo, illustrated IER, Strange Fish to be Found There. cover, 18.; cloth limp, 1s. 6d. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. The Art of Beauty. New and Cheaper (Sir Thomas) 65 Dick Temple: A Novel. Post 8vo, Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, f the illustrated boards, 2§ with Coloured Frontispiece and Il- W ity Guyot.—The Earth and Mafi} lustrations, 6s. The Art of Decoration. Square 8vo, or, Physical Geography in its relation ankind. B handsomely bound and profusely ‘ot?nc fal Letters. to the History of Illustrated, 10s. 6d. ARrNoOLD GUYOT. With Additions by Chaucer for Children: A Golden Professors Acassiz, PIERCE, and GRAY; Key. With Eight Coloured Pictures s, 0 12 Maps and Engravings on Steel, and numerous Woodcuts. New Yo some Coloured, and copious Index. Edition, small 4to, cloth extra, 68. ld' s Maxims andM Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 4s. 6d. Chaucer for Schools. Demy 8vo, With No y by SaINT Hair (The): Its Treatment in cloth limp, 2s. 6d. Health, Weakness, and Disease. paul and VI Translated from the German of Dr. J. Haweis (Rev. H. R.).—American an Cottag PINCUS. Crown 8vo, 18.; cloth, 1s. éd. Humovrists. Including WASHINGTON he Re ‘;CY-“ IRVING, OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, arly Po2 5 and &% Hake (Dr. Thomas Gordon), James RusserLL LowEeLL, ARTEMUS ith Ess2 by Leté Poems by: WaRrD,MARK TwaIN, and BRET HARTE. Laon & Y Maiden Ecstasy. Small 4to, cloth By the Rev. H. R. Haweis, M.A, ater PO¢ extra, 8s. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 68. = posthumous Poer’ Papers 12 .bOJKS PUBLISHED BY S T ook's(The orous \Yor Hawthor'ne ¢ ullan), Novels by. Hesse - Wartegg (Chevalier rous AT Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each; Ernst von), Works by post 8vo, iilustrated bOaI‘dS 2s. each. Tunis The Land and the People Hoases: Port Sebastian Strome With 22 Illustrations Crown 8vo, Author, Garth cloth extra, 3s. 6d Tllusts: Ellice Quentin Dust. Prince Saroni’s Wife The New South-West Travelling Hooper: —T Sketches from Kansas, New Mexico, A Novel. | Fortune’s Fool. Arizona, and Northern Mexico. Beatrix Randolph With 100 fine Illustrations and Three Post 810, Maps. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, Mps. Gamsbov‘ouflh s Dxamonds 148 Hol'nE—O”“ Fcap. 8vo, illustrated cover, 18 [In prepamtwn in Three Boo cloth extra, 2s. 6d. gist HORNE Hindley (Charles), Works by Portrait from Miss Cadogna. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 38. 6d. each MEE RS, RS, enth Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings: In- xtra, I8, IMPORTANT NEW BIOGRAPHY. cluding the Origin of Signs, and Reminiscences connected with Howell.—Cor Hawthorne (Nathaniel) and Taverns, Coffee Houses, Clubs, &c. nd Labour, his Wife By JuLiAN HAWTHORNE ‘With Illustrations. With 6 Steel-plate Portraits Two The Life and Adventures of a Cheap Vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, 248 Jack By One of the Fraternity, [Twenty-five copies of an Edition de S Edited by CHARLES HINDLEY Luxe, printed on the best hand-made Creed. paper, large 8vo size, and with India Hoey.—The Lover’s an In proofs of the Illustranons arereserved By Mrs. CasHEL Hoey. With 12 Illus- ha\\ ELL, or sale in England, price 48s. per set. trations by P. MacNaB. Three Vols., Immediate application should be made crown 8vo, 31s. 6d. Hugo. — The by anyone desiring a copy of this Notre Dame. special and veryl limited Edition.] Pustbro, £ e Holmes (O.Wendell), Works by Hays. —Women of the Day A The Autocrat“of the Breakfast- Hunt—E Essay Table. Illustrated by J. GorpoN AT ral Biographical Dictionary of Notable THOMSON Post 8vo, cloth limp, Contemporarie By FranceEs Hays. 2s. 6d.; another Edition in smaller otber P Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 58 troduc type, with an Introduction by G. A. 0 1mp, Heath (F. G — My Garden SALA. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. Wild, and What I Grew There By The Professor at the Breakfast- Hunt (Mrs. A Francis GeorRGE HEeaTH, Author of Table; with the Story of Iris, Post Crown 8v “The Fern World,” &c Crown 8vo, 8vo, clqth limp, 2s. P post 8 it cl.ex., 53.; cl. gilt, gilt edges, 63 Holmes. — The Science of Thornicroft Helps (Sir Arthur), Works by Voice Production and Voice Preser- The Leaden Animals and their Master: Post vation A Popular Manual for the SelfConden 8vo, cloth limp, 28. 6 Use of Speakers and Singers By GorpoN HorLMmES, M.D. With Illus- Ingelow.—F; Social Pressure. Post8vo, cloth limp, S Novel, By trations. Crown 8vo, 1s 5 cloth.}s Gd. Y0, i Ivan de Biron: A Novel. Crown 8vo, oth ex cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, illus- Hood (Thomas): ated boy b trated board% 2. Hood’s Choice Works, in Prose and Verse. Including the Cream of the lmsh Wit ar Hebtalogla (The); or The Comic Annuals With Life of the of. Collected Seven against Sense. A Cap with Author, Portrait, and 200 Illustra- \\L Seven Bells. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. tions. Crown §vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. Ining g Herbert.—The Poems of Lord Hood’s Whims and Oddities. Com- Herbert of Cherbury. plete, With all the original Illus- Post 8o, Edited, with trations. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 28 Tales of g T Introduction, by J. Lano\ Cmn\s _Teles of the Crown 8vo, bou\d in parchment, 8s. Hood (Tom), Works by Janvien_p P Herrick’s (Robert) Hesperides, From Nowhere to the North Pole: for Student Noble Numbers, and Complete Col- A Noah’s Arkaeological Narrative ANVIER, () lected Poems With Memorial-Intro- With 25 Illustrations by W. BRUN- duction and Notes by the Rev. A. B. ToN and E. C. BARNES Square Jay (Harpie GROSART, D.D., Steel Portrait, Index crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, 6s. of First Lmes and Glossarial Index By, i Crown § 5‘0 B A Golden Heart: A Novel Post 8vo, ]Us[ralg &e. ’lluce\ols crown 8vo, cloth, 18, illustrated boards, 23. he Day he Quefln e, CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 13 ’g ks by ;chfivallen Hook’s (Theodore) Choice Hu- Jefferies (Richard), Works by': ] gy morous Works, including his Ludi- Nature near London. Crown 8vo, e crous Adventures, Bons Mots, Puns and cloth extra, 6s. 101§y Hoaxes. With a New Life of the The Life of the Fields. Crown 8vo, Author, Portraits, Facsimiles, and cloth extra, 6s. ith Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, gilt, 7s. 6d. Jennings (H. J.), Works by : Hooper.—The House of Raby : Curiosities of Criticism. Post 8vo, A Novel. cloth limp, 2s. 6d. “ By Mrs. GEORGE HOOPER. Lord Tennyscn: A Biographical _ Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. Sketch. With a Photograph-Por- Horne.—Orion : An Epic Poem, in Three Books. "grait.‘ Crown §yo, cloth extra, 68. AL \‘\ Norks With By RicHARD HEN- Jennings Tles‘» GIST HORNE. Photographic (Hargrave). — The ot ot Portrait from a Medallion by Sum- Rosicrucians: Their Rites and Mys- es and S MERS. Tenth Edition, crown 8vo, teries. ‘With Chapters on the Ancient }oth extra, 7,5'_; Fire and Serpent Worshippers. By | HARGRAVE JENNINGS. With Five full- Howell.—Conflicts of Capital page Plates and upwards of 300 Illus- and Labour, Historically and Eco- trations. A New Edition, crown 8vo, nomically considered: Being a His- cloth extra, 7s. 6d. resof a Cheay tory and Review of the Trade Unions of Great Britain, showing their Origin, Jerrold (Tom), Works by : Progress, Constitution, and Objects, in The Garden that Paid the Rent. their Political, Social, Economical, By ToMm JERROLD. Fcap. 8vo, illus- trated cover, 1s.; cloth limp, 1s. 6d. - L'qvevs' Cvge‘d‘ HowELL. and Industrial Aspects. By GEORGE Household Horticulture: A Gossip Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. about Flowers. Hugo. — The Hunchback of By ToM and JANE . By Vicrtor Huco. JErroLD, Illustrated. Post8vo,1s.; Notre Dame. l cloth, 1s. 6d. fendell) Worksh i Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28. Our Kitchen Garden: The Plants of t e Break we Grow, and How we Cook Them. Hunt.—Essays by Leigh Hunt. By ToM JERROLD. Post 8vo, 1s.; ! A Tale for a Chimney Corner, and _cloth limp, 1s. 6d. other Pieces. With Portrait and In- troduction by EDMUND OLLIER. Post Jesse.—Scenes and Occu pa- 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. tions of a Country Life. By EDWARD JESSE. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. rat t e Brea Hunt (Mrs. Alfred), Novels by : Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 38. 6d. each; Jones (Wm., F.S.A.), Works by : post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. Finger-Ring Lore: Historical, Le- L Thornicroft’s Model. With over gendary, and Anecdotal. The Sdenee The Leaden Casket. 200 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 7s. 6d. Self-Condemned. Credulities, Past and Present; in- on ingy\’oi‘ce P cluding the Seaand Seamen, Miners, and Ingelow.—Fated to be Free: A Talismans,Word and Letter Divina- Novel. By JeaN INGELoOW. Crown tion, Exorcising and Blessing of 0,18 post 8vo, Animals, Birds, Eggs, Luck, &c. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; With an Etched Frontispiece. Crown illustrated boards, 2s. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. mas) Irish Wit and Humour, Songs Crowns and Coronations: A History Words, of Regalia in all Times and Coun- of. Collected and Edited by A. PERCE- tries. With One Hundred Illus- R (o e MU S VAL GRAVES, Povs_"c78vo,”cl. limp, 2s. 6d. tratipns. Ci Bvo,gloth extra, 7s. 6d. bt and 20 ] (i3 Irving (Washingtoh),Works by: Jonson’s (Ben) Works. With v Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. each. Notes Critical and Explanatory, and s end 04t Tales of a Traveller. WILLIAM e Tales of the Alhambra. a Biographical Memoir b Janvier.—Practical Keramics GIFFORD, Edited by Colonel Cun- NiNGHAM. Three Vols., crown 8vo, for Students. By CATHERINE A, cloth extra, 18s.; or sgparatelyl G_S_, gacll. et i ) Works bY _ JANVIER. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. e North :Joseph us,TheCompleteWorks ere 10 Na ? Jay‘(Har-r'iet{), Novels by. Each of. Translated by WHISTON. Con- Ar crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. ; or post taining both ¢ The Antiquities of the 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. € ws’” and “ The Wars of the Jews.” C B JLé The Dark Colleen. e wo Vols., 8vo, with sz Illustrations oth extr The Queen of Connaught. and Maps, cloth extra, gilt, 14s. A Nov RCER eart ds, B 0ar 14 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY Kavanagh.—The Pear! Foun- tain, and other Fairy Stories. LANE’s ARABIAN NiGHTS, continued— BRrIDGET and Juria Kavanagu. With By Arabian Societ Y in the Middle Ages: LongfelloW Studies from ‘“The Thousand and Longflloh Thirty Illustrationsby J. Moyr SmrTH, One Nights.” By EDwaARD WILLIAM Tncluding Small 8vo, cloth gilt, 68, LANE, Author of “The Modern IJ," WKay Egyptians,” &c. Edited by STANLEY PoetryofE Kempt.—Pencil and Palette: With Port it Chapterson Artand Artists. By ROBERT ANE-POOLE. Cr. 8vo,cloth extra, Gs: YALENTIN KewmPpT, Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. cloth extré, Lares and Penates; or, The [ kingsley (Henry), Novels by : Background of Life. By FLORENCE Longfellow’s Cappy. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 63, flly Rept Each crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; Editions. ¥ or post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. Larwocd (Jacob), Works by : {rations 08 Oakshott Castle. | Number Seventeen 2 gvo, cloth € Knight.—The Patient’s Vade The Story of the London Parks. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth Mecum: How to get most Benefit extra, 38. 6d. Long Life Dietetic, @ from Medical Advice. By WiLriam Clerical Anecdotes. Post 8vo, cloth Heal an KNIGHT, M.R.C.S., and EDWARD limp, 2s. 6d. Day LI Knigur, L.R.C.P. Crown 8v 0,718 _ cloth, 15. 6d. e A Forensic Anecdotes Post 8vo, cloth clot limp, 28 . Lamb (CharEsj: Theatrical Anecdotes. Post 8vo, cloth Lfi}&:@dé Mary and Charles Lamb: Their By Hexy | Poems, Letters,and Remains. With il 35 ST IR S ol extra, 38,60 Reminiscences and Notes by W. AREW HazriTT. With Hancock’s l:eigh (Henry S.)i Work s by : Lusiad (Tt Carols of Cockayne. With numerous Translated i Portrait of the Essayist, Facsimiles Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth limp, Verse by R of the Title-pages of the rare First 8 Demny 6 L Editions of Lamb’s and Coleridge’s Pla (€5, o Works, and numerous Illustrations. Jeux d’Esprit. Collected and Edited % At Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 10s. 6d. ENRY S. LEIGH, Post 8vo, cloth Lamb’s Complete Works, in Prose limp, 2. 6d. McCarthy { and Verse, reprinted from the Ori- by: ginal Editions, with many Pieces Life in London; or, The A History of hitherto unpublished. Edited, with of Jerry Hawthorn and C orinthian History the Act om. Wit the General SHEPHERD. With Two Portraits and Notes and Introduction, by R. H. SHANK’S Illustration the whole of Cruik- s, in Colours, after Vols. demy Facsimile of Page of the “ Essay on tg.e O'riginals. Cro wn 8vo, cloth extra, €ack Roast Pig.” Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. e Four The Essays of Elia. Complete Edi- AShort H'@ tion. Post 8vo, cloth extra, 2s. Linton (E. Lynn), Works by : One Val, Poetry for Children, and Prince Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each. Dorus. By CHARLES LaMB. Care- History of t fully reprinted from uni Witch Stories. Vols, den S que copies. The True Story of Joshua Davidson. each, Small §vo, cloth extra, 5 Ourselves: Essays on Women, Little Essays: Sketches and Charac- = Crown Evo,_' ters, By CHARLES Lawms. Selected post 8o, 1] from his Letters by Percy Firz- Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 8vo, illustrated boa. 3s. 6d. each; post GERALD. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. rds, 2s. each, Dear L Patricia Kemball. The W Lane’s Arabian Nights, &c.: The Atonement of Leam Dundas. My Ene The Thousand and One Nights : The World Well Lost. A Fajp ARABIAN commonly called, in England, “ Tur Under which Lord ? Linley NigHTS’ ENTERTAIN- With a Silken Thread. MENTS.” A New Translation from Miss M the Arabic, with copious Notes, by The Rebel of the Family, Donna EpwARD WiLL1AM LANE. Illustrat ed “My Love!” The C¢ by man hundred Engravings on lone. Wood, e om Original D esigns by Maid o Wwn. HarvEy, A New Edition, from a Copy annotated b y the Translator, Locks and Keys.—On the De- MecCarth edited by his Nephew, Epwarp velopment and Di. stribution of Primi- Works 1 STANLEY PooLE. With tive Locks and Ke yS By Lieut.-Gen. STANLEY LANE-POOLE. a Preface by Pirr-Rivers, F.R.S, With numerous An Outline Three Vols., Illustrations, Demy 4to, half Rox- Tom the demy 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d, each, burghe, 163, S¢nt Day Englang {m DITIoy | fodate, " CHA%TO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 15 Wi e Thy P;&: MacDonald (George, LL.D.), W Ny Longfellow : : ) iy Longfellow’s Complete Prose Works. Works by : With 11 By Including ‘ Outre Mer,” ‘Hyper- The Princess and Curdie. ion,” “Kavanagh,”” “ The Poetsand Illustrations by JaAMES ALLEN. Small Poetry of Europe,” and * Driftwood.” crown 8vo, cloth extra, 5s. With Portrait and Illustrations by Gutta-Percha Willie, the Working Natey i 00 The VALENTINE BROMLEY. Crown 8vo, Genius. With ¢ Illustrations Ry cloth extra, 7s. 6d. ARTHUR HUGHES. Square 8vo, C! lo%‘; Longfellow’s Poetical Works. Care- extra, 3s. 6d. fully Reprinted from the Original Paul Faber, Surgeon. With a Fron- \) Wnr‘kg hy Editions. With numerous fine Illus- tispiece by J. E. MiLLAIs. Crown 't 1 Long trations on Steel and Wood. Crown 8vo, cloth” extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, I ot 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. illustrated boards, 2s. o Thomas Wingfold, Curate. With a Long Life, Aids to: A Medical, Res, Pos i, Dietetic, and General Guide in Frontispiece by C. J. STANILAND. Health and Disease. iy E Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s.6d.; post otes P Davies, L.R.C.P. Crown 8vo, '25'; 8vo, illustrated boards, 2?. cloth limp, 2s. 6d. M';cdonell.—ialjiari;e'rf Couéins: odotes, Doty lecy.—G ideon Fleyce: A Novel. A Novel. By AGNES MACDONELL. By Henry W. Lucy. Crown 8vo, cl. extra, 3s. 6d.; post8vo, illust. bds.,2s. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28. Lusiad (The) of Camoens. Translated into English Spenserian Macgregor. — Pastimes and Players. Notes on Popular Games, Verse by ROBERT FFRENCH DUFF. By ROBERT MACGREGOR. Post 8vo, Demy 8vo, with Fourteen full-page cloth limp, 2s. 6d. nd Plates, cloth boards, 185 R g st McCarth)fli-(jljstin, M'.E:S,Workrs Maclise Portrait-Gallery (The) T by : of lllustrious Literary Characters; I The H A History of Our Own Times, from with Memoirs—Biographical, Critical, the Accession of Queen Victoria to Bibliographical, and Anecdotal—illus- the General Election of 1880. Four trative of the Literature of the former half of the Present Century. By Vols. demy 8vo, cloth extra, 12s. WiLLiaM BATEs, B.A. With 85 Por- each.—Also a PoPULAR EDITION, in Four Vols. cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 6s. each. traits printed on an India Tint. Crown . A Short History of Qur Own Times. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. ne Vol., crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. on), Warks by: Four Macquoid (Mrs.), Works by : h limp, &, 60 sk History of the Four Georges. In the Ardennes. With 5o fine Illus- Vols. demy 8vo, cloth extra, 12s. each. [\{ol. 1. now ready. trations by THoMAs R. MACQUOID. of Joshua Davidsn Square 8vo, cloth extra, 10s. 6d. on Womez, Crown SV(;,i:IochAé:;xtr; 735. 6d. each; Pictures and Legends from Nor- post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. mandy and Brittany. With numer- Dear Lady Disdain. ous lllustrations by Twromas R. 2,361 The Waterdale Neighbours. MAcquoID. Square 8vo, cloth gilt, ] Doard 10s. 6d. My Enemy’s Daughter. A Fair Saxon. Through Normandy. With go Illus- tf Lean Dundas. Linley Rochford trations by T. R. MAcguoID. Square I Lost 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. Miss Misanthrope. Through Brittany. With numerous ord? Donna Quixote. Illustrations by T. R. MAcQuoiD. .Thread. The Comet of a Season. Square 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. he Family With 6y Illustra- Malid of Athens. s AR About Yorkshire. tions by T. R. Macquoip, Engraved McCarthy (Justin H., M.P.) by SwaIN. Square 8vo, cloth extra, Works by: 10s. 6d. he De An Outline of the History of Ireland, The Evil Eye, and other Stories. eys ,OH ! 000 from the Earliest Times to the Pre- Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. By Lieat i ent Day. Cr.8vo,1s.; cloth,1s. 6d. Wit puer® England under Gladstone. SECOND Lost Rose, and other Stories. Crown = 40, palf B EDITION, revised and brought down 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, to date. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. illustrated boards, 2s. 16 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY / Mackay.—Interludes and Un- Masterman.—Half a Dozen JAFAR L1BRA dertones: or, Music at Twilight. By Daughters: A Novel. By J. MASTER- Quips an CHARLES MAckAY, LL.D, Crown 8vo, Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28. W, DAVENE cloth extra, 6s. MAht. Mark Twain, Works by : The Agony € Magic Lantern (The), and its The Choice Works of Mark Twalin, from 180 ¢ Management : including Full Prac- Introductio Revised and Corrected throughout by o Balzac’s “C tical Directions for producing the the Author. With Life, Portrait, and its Author. Limelight, making Oxygen Gas, and numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo, H, H WAL preparing Lantern Slides. HEPWORTH. With Byl (€. cloth extra, 7s. 6d. Melancholy 10 Illustrations, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Abridgment (;EoanSvo, 15, ; cloth, ls 6d. ciud X B dbnioond M With 111 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. of Melanch _Magician’sAOwn Bookfl(Thie *¢* Also a Cheap Edition, post 8vo, Gastronomy Performances with Cups and Bal ) illustrated boards, 2s. BRILLAT-SA Eggs, Hats, Handkerchiefs, &c. All /A n ldle Excursion.and other Sketches. The Specehe from actual Experience. Bdited by Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. W. H. CREMER. With2oo Illustrations. With Literary Friv and Frolics Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d. The Prince and the Pauper. nearly 200 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, Pactical Ingern 1 Magic No Mystery : Tricks with cloth “extra, 7s. 6d. ties. ot Cards, Dice, Balls, &c., with fully The Innocents Abroad ; or, The New descriptive Directions; the Art of / Pilgrim’s Progress: Being some Ac- Theoéhbéoart Secret Writing ; Training of Perform- count of the Steamship * Quaker ay ing Animals, &c. With Coloured City’s » Pleasure Excursion to Original P! ) RST OE! Frontispiece and many Illustrations, Europe and the Holy Land. With Wicked W Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d. 234 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth - Ch extra, 7s. 6d. CHEAP EpITION (under The Paice o Magna Charta. An exact Fac- thetitle of “ MARK TWAIN’S PLEASURE TRr1pP ”), post 8vo, illust. boards, 2s. Original P simile of the Original in the British Roughing It, and The Innocents at SEcoN DS i Museum, printed on fine plate paper, Home. '\l 3 feet by 2 feet, with Arms and Seals F. A. FRASER, With 200 Illustrations by Gretchen—D: emblazoned in Gold and Colours. Crown 8vo, cloth Price 5s. extra, 7s. 6d. ~The P} The Gilded Age. By MARk TwAIN Mallock (W. H.), Works by : an CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER. Songs of Iris Collectedant The New Republic; or, Culture, Faith With 212 Illustrations by T. Coppin. and Philosephy inan English Country Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. GRavEs, House. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d.’; A Tramp Abroad. With 314 Illustra- Animals and Cheap Edition, illustrated boards, 2s. tions. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s.6d. ; ARTHUR He The New Paul and Virginia ; or, Posi- Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. Soclal Pressy tivism on an Island. Post 8vo, cloth The Stolen White Elephant, &c. Curlosities of limp, 2s. 6d. J. Jenixs illustrated boards, 2s. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. ; post 8vo, Poems. Small 4to, bound in parch- ment, 8s. TheAutocrat / Life on the Mississippl. With about By Otiver | Is Life worth Living? Crown 8vo, 300 Original Illustrations. Crown lustrated by e e i cloth extra, 6s. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. Pencil anq : The Adventures of Huckleberry Kexpr, Mallory’s (Sir Thomas) Mort Finn. With 174 Illustrations by Little Essay: d’Arthur: The Stories of King Arthur E. W. KEMBLE. Crown 8vo, cloth ters, By Cy and of the Knights of the Round Table, extra, 7s. 6d. his Letfers Edited by B. MONTGOMERIE RANKING. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. Massinger’s Plays. From the Clerical Ane WooD, Text of WiLLiaM GIFFORD. Edited Marlowe’'s Works. Including by Col. CUNNINGHAM., Crown 8vo, Foren his Translations. Edited, with Notes _cloth extra, 6s. S Y I'SOic‘ e 108ities and Introduction, by Col. CunNING- By] HAM. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. Mayhew.—London Characters Theaa“t‘rl Cil] ; and the Humorous Side of London ARWOOD, Marryat (Flor'gnce), Novels ‘byz Life. By HENRY MAYHEW. With Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.each;; or, numerous Illustrations, Crown 8vo, Car‘ffi‘:]-:?f 4 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. cloth extra, 3s. 6d. Open! Sesame! Written in Fire. Mayfair Library, The: T Je“;:g:swn Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. per Volume, Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28, each, A Journey Round My Room. B By B, i His " A Harvest of Wild Oats. AVIER DE MAISTRE, Translated Witch Stoie A Little Stepson. by HENRY ATTWELL, Fighting the Ajr, Latter-Day Lyrics. Urselyg )i DAVENPORT ADAMS. Edited by W Pastj NN Ly Mes an, WACGR GOR CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 17 4y Diggy MAYFAIR LIBRARY, continned— MAYFAIR LIBRARY, continued— Quips and Quiddities. . DAVENPORT ADAMS. Selected by The New Paul and Virginia. By orks ‘W. H. MALLOCK. 8 of . The Agony Column of “The Times,” The New Republic. By MALLOCK. al, from 1800 to 1870. Edited, with an Puck on Pegasus. By H. CHOLMONDE- Introduction, by ALICE CLAY. LEY-PENNELL. Pegasus Re-Saddled. By H. CuoL- Balzac’s “Comedie Humaine” and MONDELEY-PENNELL. Illustrated by its Author. With Translations by GEORGE DU MAURIER. of Tom § " H. H. WALKER. Melancholy Anatomised: A Popular Muses of Mayfair. Edited by H. Abridgment of “Burton’s Anatomy CHOLMONDELEY-PENNELL. of Melancholy.” Thoreau : His Life and Aims. By 1. A. AGE. t Gastronomy as a Fine Art. BRILLAT-SAVARIN, By Puniana. By the Hon. Huga RewWLEY. S} More Puniana. By the Hon. HugH The Speeches of Charles Dickens. RowLEY. Pauper, Literary Frivolities, Fancies, Follies, and Frolics. By W. . DoBSON. The Philosophy of Handwriting. By Poetical Ingenuities and Eccentrici- DoN FELIX DE SALAMANCA. ties. By Stream and Sea. By WiLLiAM Dosson. Selected and Edited by W. T. SENIOR. [THORNBURY. Old Stories Re-told. By WALTER The Cupboard Papers. By Fin-Bec. Leaves from a Naturalist’s Note- Original Plays by W. S. GILBERT, Book. By Dr. ANDREW WILSON. FIirsT SERIES. Containing: The Wicked World — Pygmalion and Medicine, Family.—One Thou- Galatea— Charity — The Princess— sand Medical Maxims and Surgical The Palace of Truth—Trial by Jury. Hints, for Infancy, Adult Life, Middle Original Plays by W. S. GILBERT. Age, and Old Age. By N. E. Davigs, fnocen SeconND SERIES. Containing: Broken .R.C.P. Lond. Cr.8vo,1s.;cl.,1s.6d. Hearts — Engaged — Sweethearts — Gretchen—Dan’l Druce—Tom Cobb Merry Circle (The): A Book of —H.M.S. Pinafore — The Sorcerer New Intellectual Games and Amuse- —The Pirates of Penzance. ments. By CrARA BELLEW. With Songs of lrish Wit and Humour. numerous [llustrations. Crown 8vo, VA Collectedand Edited by A. PERCEVAL cloth extra, 4s. 6d. GRAVES, Mexican Mustang Animals and their Masters. By Sir (On a). W ARTHUR HELPS. Through Texas, from the Gulf to the Social Pressure. By Sir A. HELPs, Rio Grande. A New Book of Ameri- Curiosities of Criticism. By HENRY can Humour. By ALEx. E.SWEET and 1] J. Armoy Knox, Editors of ‘“Texas J. JENNINGS. Siftings.” 265 Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cloth The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. extra, 7s. 6d. By OL1vER WENDELL HOLMES. 11- lustrated by J. GorRDON THOMSON. Middlemass (Jean), Novels by: Pencil and Palette. By ROBERT Touch and Go. Kewmpr. Crown 8vo, cloth el Little Essays: Sketches and Charac- extra, 3s.6d.; post8vo, illust. bds., 2s. es of Hueke ters. By CHas. LaMB. Selected from 1 Mpr. Dorillion. Post8vo,illust. bdg., 28; his Letters by PERcY FITZGERALD. Miller. — Physiology for the Cilerical Anecdotes. By Jacos LAr- Young; or, The House of Life: Hu- WOOD. man Physiology, with its application )|ay5 FA "} Forensic Anecdotes; or, Humour and to the Preservation of Health. For GIF Curiosities of the Law and Men of Classes and Popular Reading. With Crom & Law. By Jaco LArRwoOD. Theatrical Anecdotes. By Jacos numerous Illusts. By Mrs. F. FENwIck LARWOOD. MILLER. Small78vo,7<;lot1)71irnp, 2s. 6d. fonCharad gTS Carols of Cockayne. By Henry S. Milton (J. L.), Works by . ous Side o LEIGH. The Hygiene of the Skin. A Concis Jeux d’Esprit. Edited by HeEnry S. Set of Rules for the Management o Crom 0, LEIGH. the Skin; with Directions for Diet, True History of Joshua Davidson. Wines, Soaps, Baths, &c. Small 8vo, By E. LyNN LINTON. 1s. ; cloth extra, 1s. 6d., 1Y, The Witch Stories. By E. LyNN LiNTON. The Bath in Diseases of the Skin. g, per Ourselves: S Essays on Women. By Small 8vo, 1s.; cloth extra, 1s. 6d. nd Ny Tr&fl‘h el E. LyNN LINTeN. The Laws of Life, and their Relation Pastimes and Players. By ROBERT to Diseases of the Skin, Small 8va, MACGREGOR. 1s, cloth extra, 1s. 6d. ok ANS: 18 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY payi (Jal Cromn 8701 post 890 ill Moncrieff. — The Abdication; Ouida, Novels by. Crown 8vo, or, Time Tries All An Historical cloth extra, 5. each; post 8vo, illus- Lost Sir M Drama. By W. D. ScoTT-MONCRIEFF. trated boards, 2s. each. The Best ¢ With Seven Etchings by Joun PETTIE, Walter's W R ? ORCHARDSON, R ) Held in Bondage. Pascarel. MACWHIRTER, A.R.A., CoLIN HUNTER, Strathmore. Signa. Halves. R. MacBeTH,and Tom GrRAHAM, Large Chandos. In a Winter City What He C 4to, bound in buckram, 21s. Less Black Under Two Flags Ariadne. Murray (D. Christie), Novels Cecil Castle- Friendship. By Proxy. by. Crown 8vo,cloth extra, 88.6d. each ; maine’s Gage. Moths. Under One/ Idalia. post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2. cach. Pipistrello. <4 AConfident A Life’s Atonement. Tricotrin. A Village Com Some Priva A Model Father. Puck. mune A Grape fro Folle Farine. Bimbi Joseph’s Coat. For Cashv 9 Coals of Fire. TwolittleWooden In Maremma By the Gate of the Sea. oes. Wanda. Post 80, A Dog of Flanders. Frescoes. A Perfect T Val Strange. Hearts. Bentinck's T Murphy's M Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. =ach, | Bimbi: PRESENTATION EpITION. Sq. The Way of the World. al A County Fé A Bit of Human Nature. 8;/.0, .cloth gilt, cinnamon edges, At Her Men Princess Napraxine. New and A Woman's' k orth Italian Folk. By Mrs. Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth Comyns CARR. Illust. by RANDOLPH extra, 58. Cecil's Trys CALDECOTT, Square 8vo, cloth zxtra, The Clyffarg s. 6d. The Family- Wisdom, Wit, and Pathos. Selected from the Works of Ouipa by F. The Foster | Number Nip (Stories about), SyDNEY MORRIS, Small crown 8vo, Found Dead, the Spirit of the Giant Mountains. Retold for Children cloth extra, bs. by WaLTE Gwendoling's GRAHAME. With Illustrations by J. Humorous § Moyr SMITH. Post 8vo, cloth extra, Page (H. A.), Works by : &% 6s. Thoreau: His Lifeand Aims: A Study. Like Fathen With a Portrait. Post 8vo, cloth A Maring Re Nursery Hints: A Mother’s limp, 2s. 6d. Marrled Ber Guide in Health and Disease, By N. E. Davies, L.R.C.P. Crown 8vo, 18.; Lights onthe Way : Some Tales with- in a Tale. Mirk Abbey, cloth, 1s. 6d. By the late . H. ALEX- Not Wooed, ANDER, B.A. Edited by . A. PAGE Two Hundn Oliphant. — Whiteladies: A Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. Novel. With Illustrations by ARTHUR Kit: A Mem Hopxins and HENRY WooDs. Crown Pascal’s Provincial Letters. A The Canon’ 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, New Translation, with Historical In- illustrated boards, 2s. In Perll g troduction and Notes, by T. M'Crik, Marine Aq O’Connor.—Lord Beaconsfield D.D. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. A Biography. By T. P.O’CoNNOR, M.P, for Boys, Patient’s (The) Vade Mecum: tions. Crg = Sixth Edition, with a New Preface, How to get most Benefit from Medi- Penr n bringing the work down to the Death cal Advice. ell of Lord Beaconsfield, Crown 8vo, M.R.C.S., and EDwARD By WirLriam Knicaur, Works by cloth extra, 7s. 6d. kg b 3 . KN1GHT, 5.6, ¢ ac L.R.C.P. Crown 8vo, 1s.; C%?ti],’,,]"s,‘,scl' O’Reilly.—Phéebe’s Fortunes : Puck on Peg A Novel. With Illustrations by HENrY Paul Ferroll: The Muges Tuck. Post 8vo, illu;trated bogrds, 251 o o Pyl Sooigté, § Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each, « FENNE] Paul Ferroll: A Novel. O’Sll)'uya:ugh'nessy (Arth.), Works Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife. Pegasus p, Songs of a Worker. Fcap. 8vo, cloth Page Llug extra, 7s.-6d. Paul.—Gentle and Simple. By Phelps g Music and Moonlight. Fcap. 8vo, MARGARET AGNES PAUL, With a 7 Buyy cloth extra, 7s. Frontispiece by HELEN PATERSON. Author.of Lays of France. Crown 8vo, cloth Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 33, 6d. o, cloth extra, 10s. 6d. illustrated boards, 2s. .3 post 8vo, CHATTO & WINDUS, PICbADILLY. 1y Payn (James), Novels by. Pirkis (Mrs. C. L.) Novels by: y Crm B Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each; Trooping with Crows. Fcap. 8vo, Uy post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28. each. picture cover, 18 Lost Sir Massingberd. Lady Lovelace. Three Vols,, cr. 8vo, ) The Best of Husbands. 31s. 64. Nena Walter’'s Word. ™ Halves. | Fallen Fortunes Planche (J. R.), Works by: Oy or, Ve, What He Cost Her. The Cyclopeedia of Costume; Frenhly, Less Black than we’re Painted. A Dictionary of Dress—Regal, Ec- Haths, By Proxy. High Spirits. clesiastical, Civil,and Military—from the Earliest Period in England to the Plpstel, Under One Roof. Carlyon’s Year. Reign of George the Third. Includ- A Confidential Agent. ing Notices of Contemporaneous "mmfié tm Some Private Views. Fashions on the Continent, and a General Histor of the Costumes of Bimbi = A Grape from a Thorn. the Principal “ountries of Europe. In Mmmma Two Vols., demy 4to, half morocco For CashrOnIy. | Fr:om Exile. profusely Illustrated with Coloured Wanda, Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28. each, and Plain Plates and Woodcuts, Frescoes A Perfect Treasure. £7 Ts. The Vols. may also be had Bentinck’s Tutor. separately (each complete in itself) Vol. I. THE I} Murphy’s Master. at £3 13s. 6d. each : L O DicTIONARY. Vol. II. A GENERAL e A County Family. HisTory oF CosTUME IN EUROPE. At Her Mercy. The Pursuivant of Arms; or, Her- A Woman’s Vengeance aldry Founded upon Facts. With Coloured Frontispiece and 200 Illus- Cecil’s Tryst. trations. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. The Clyffards of Clyffe. The Family Scapegrace Songs and Poems, from 1819 to 1879. d Path Sl Edited, with an Introduction, by his of The Foster Brothers. Daughter, Mrs. MACKARNESS. Crown Szl Found Dead. 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. Gwendoline’s Harvest. Play-time: Sayings and Doings Humorous Stories: Works by Like Father, Like Son. of Baby-land. By E.STANFORD. Large A Marine Residence. 4to, handsomely printed in Colours, 58. Married Beneath Him. Plutarch’s Lives of Illustrious Mirk Abbey. Men. Translated from the Greek, fay with Notes Critical and Historical, and Not Wooed, but Won. a Life of Plutarch, .by JoHN and Two Hundred Pounds Reward. WILLIAM LANGHORNE. Two Vals., Kit: A Memory. The Canon’s Ward. 8vo, cloth extra, with Portraits, 108. 6d. In Peril and Pl«iv;tiion: Stories of Poe (Edgar Allan):— fncial Lgtters. A with Marine Adventure Re-told. A Book The Choice Works, in Prose and Poetry, of EDGAR ALLAN Poke. With p for Boys. With numerous Illustra- tions. Crown 8vo, 6s. (Sep. an Introductory Essay by CHARLES Portrait and Fac- BAUDELAIRE, ) Vade Meal™ Pennell (H Cholmondeley), similes. Crown 8vo, cl. extra, 7s. 6d. ene Works by: Post 8vo, cloth limp, The Mystery of Marie Roge t, and o Wiy A 2s. 6d. each. other Stories. Post 8vo, illust.b: Js.,2s. ARD Puck on Pegasus. With Illustrations. 1 Com- 1 5‘"\% Is;¢ The Muses of Mayfalir. Vers de Pope’s Poetical Works. Société, Selected and Edited by H. plete in One Vol. Post 8vo, cl. limp, 2s. C. PENNELL. Pegasus Re-Saddled. With Ten full- Price (E. C.), Novels by: 4 boards, 5 page Illusts. by G. Du MAURIER, Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. Phelps.—Beyond the Gates. :z\?‘)l(‘Je\led i Wit Valentina. | The Foreigners. By ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS, ! 4 gimple § Author of ““ The Gates Ajar.” Crown Mrs. Lanc sfier’s Ri EP A yith & 8vo, cloth extra, 2s, 6d. Gerald. Three Vols,, crm8vo, 315. 64, (55 Paul RS0t B BLE: i 3,60 P"S‘ B s 20 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY / Proctor (Richd. A.), Works Bry 3 Reade (Charles, D.C.L.), Novels Robinson’ Flowers of the Sky. With 55 Illusts. by. Post 8vo, illust., bds., 28. each ; Crown §v0 Small crown 8vo, cloth extra, 4s. 6d. or cr. 8vo, cl. ex., illust..3s. 6d. each. SRS o, s Easy Star Lessons. With Star Maps Peg Woffington. Illustrated by S. L. Wome! for Every Night in the Year, Draw- FI1LpEs, A R.A. ings of the Constellations, &c. Christie Johnstone. Illustrated by The H Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. WIiILLIAM SMALL. It is Never Too Late to Mend. 1l Robinson Familiar Science Studies. Crown lustrated by G. J. PINWELL. The Poet: 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. The Course of True Love Never did extra, 18 Rough Ways made Smooth: A run Smooth. Illustrated by HELEN The Poets Series of Familiar Essays on Scien- PATERSON. xtra, T8 tific Subjects. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra,6s. sEpas The Autobiography of a Thief; Jack Our Place among Infinities: A Series of all Trades; and James Lambert. e - Robinso 5 of Essays contrasting our Little Illustrated by MATT STRETCH. yeproduct Abode in Space and Time with the Love me Little, Love me Long. Il- —— AL Infinities Around us, Crown 8vo, lustrated by M. ELLEN EDWARDS. GroroECR cloth extra, 6s. The Double Marriage. Illust. by Sir Crown 8Y0, The Expanse of Heaven: A Series JouN GILBERT, R.A., and C. KEENE. Large:Papel of Essays on the Wonders of the The Cloister and the Hearth. 11- made peper Firmament. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. lustrated by CHARLEsS KEENE. Hard Cash. Illust. by F. W. LAwSON. Tllustration Saturn and its System. New and Griffith Gaunt. Illustrated by S. L. Revised Edition,with 13 Steel Plates. FIiLDEs, A.R.A., and WM, SMALL. Rochefouc Demy 8vo, cloth extra, 10s. 6d. Moral Ref The Great Pyramid: Observatory, Foul Play. Illust, by Du MAURIER. Illus- an Intrody Tomb, and Temple. With Illus- Put Yourself in His Place. Bruve. trations. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. trated by ROBERT BARNES. A Terrible Temptation. Illustrated Mysteries of Time and Space. With y Epw. HuGcHEs and A. W, COOPER. ol Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. The Wandering Heir. Illustrated by AList of The Universe of Suns, and other H.PaTERSON, S. L. FILDES, A.R.A., came Science Gleanings. With numerous C. GREEN, and H. Woops, A.R.A. liam Illusts. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. A Simpleton. Illustrated by KATE this C CRAUFORD. principal A Wages and Wants of Science A Woman-Hater. and Colour Workers. Crown 8vo, 1s. 6d. THos. COULDERY. Illustrated by Pyrotechnist’s Treasury(The); Readiana. With a Steel-plate Portrait Rowley (H or, Complete Art of Making Fireworks. of CHARLES READE. Post 8o, By THoMas KeNTIsH. With numerous Singleheart and Doubleface: A Puniana: Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 4s. 6d. Matter-of-fact Romance. Illustrated numerou y P. MacNaB. Rabelais’ Works. Faithfully Good Stories of Men and other More Pun Translated from the French, with Animals. Illustrated by E. A. ABBEY, variorum Notes, and numerous charac- Percy Macquoip,and JosEpH NASH. Russell ( teristic Illustrations b GUSTAVE The Jilt,and other Stories. Iliustrated Round th Dorg. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. by JosEpH NAsH. oth ex boards, Rambosson.—Popular Astro- Riddell (Mrs. J. H.), Novels by: On the f ‘nomy. By J. RamBosson, Laureate of Ya of the Institute of France. ‘Trans- Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s.6d. each ; Crown lated by C. B. PITMAN. Crown 8vo, post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28. each. cloth gilt, with numerous Illustrations, Her Mother’s Darling. and a beautifully executed Chart of Spectra, 7s. 6d. drbor Hi'4 e AP The Prince of Wales’s Garden Party. By Geop Weird Stories. o, Reader's Handbook (The) of The Uninhabited House. Allusions, References, Plots, and Sanson.- Stories. By the Rev. Dr. BREWER. Fairy Water. of Exe Fourth Edition, revised throughout, Sanson | with a New Appendix, containing a Rimmer (Alfred), Works by : CoMPLETE ENGLISH BIBLIOGRAPHY, Our Old Country Towns. With over \)me 50 Illusts. Sq. 8vo, cloth gilt, 10s. 6d. Saunge Cr. 8vo, 1,400 pages, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. Rambles Round Eton and Harrow. Richardson. — A Ministry of Crowy § 50 Illusts. Sq. 8vo. cloth gilt, 10s. 6d. Post évo, Health, and other Papers. By BEN- About England with Dickens. With Boung jaMIN WaRrD RicHArDSoN, M.D., &c. s8Illusts.byALFREDRIMMER2nd C. A, L — Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. VANDERHOOF. Sq.8vo,cl.gilt,108.6d Guy One 4 The | The T CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 21 e e SR O} oy th Saunders (Katharine), Novels ah, Robinson (F. W.), Novels by : by : L Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. ; post extra, 3s. 6d. each; 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. Crown 8vo, cloth d boards, 2s. each. Women are Strange. post 8vo, illustrate Joan Merryweather. te ty Yend 1. The Hands of Justice. e Margaret and Elizabeth. The High Mills. Robinson (PHi'!'), Works by: ¢ Love \‘.everc?d The Poets’ Birds. Crown 8vo, cloth Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each. extra, 78. 6d. Heart Salvage. | Sebastian. The Poets’ Beasts. Crown 8vo, cloth adens - Gideon’s Rock. YO Thit o extra, 7s. 6d. [In the press. ddames|, ert Science Gossip: An Illustrated Robinson Crusoe: A beautiful Medium of Interchange for Students me Lon uction of Major’s Edition, with and Lovers of Nature. Edited by J. E. Yeprod ts and Two Steel Plates b; TAYLOR, F.L.S., &c. Devoted to Geo- age, 37 Woodcu GEorGE CRUIKSHANK, choicely printed. Chemistry, logy, Botany, Physiology, Phy- Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. A few Zoology, Microscopy, Telescopy, Price 4d. Monthly ; or eart Large-Paper copi es, printed on hand- siography, &e. Each Number made paper, with India proofs of the bs. per year, po: st free. Illustrations, price 36s. B contains a Coloured Plate and numer- ous Woodcuts. Vols. I. to XIV. may Rochefoucauld’s Maxims and be had at 7s. 6d. each; and Vols. XV. Moral Reflections. With Notes, and to XX. (1884), at 5s. each, Cases for an Introductory Essay by SAINTE- s i Binding, 1s. Gd: each. Bruve. Post 8vo, cloth limpj 2s. o - Scott's (Sir Walter) Marmion. on. Roll of Battle Abbey, T he; o?, An entirely New Edition of this famous with over 100 new A List of the Principal Warriors who and popular Poem, Ele- came over from Normandy with Wil- Illustrations by leading Artists. % liam the Congueror, and Settled in gantly and appropriately bound, small y K this Country, A.D. 1066-7. With the 4to, cloth extra, 16s. principal Arm s emblazoned in Gol The immediate success of “The and Colours. Handsomely printed, 5s. SN A Lady of the Lak e,” published in 1882, ) SRR has encouraged Messrs. CuaTTO and Rowley (Hon. Fugh), Works by: WiNDUs to bring out a Companion Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. each. Edition of this not less popular and With Produced in the same nd Double Puniana: Riddles and Jokes. famous poem. h the same careful and numerous Illustrations. form, and wit elaborate sty le of illustration, regard- and other More Puniana. Profusely Illu;tra}e}i; 2 Ry, less of cost, Mr. Anthony’s skilful husiéél'lr(w.i Clark), Works by : supervision is sufficient guarantee that Crown 8vo, the work is elegant and tasteful as well Round the Galley-Fire. as correct.] cloth extra, 68s.; post 8vo, illustrated The: boards, 2s. « Secret Out” Series, On the Fo'k’sle Head: A Collection Crown 8vo, cloth extra, profusely Illus- of Yarns and Sea Descriptions. trated, 4s. 6d. each. | H,), Nov Crown 8vo, cloth extra, Gs; One Thousand R The Secret Out: Sala.—Gaslight a nd Daylight. Tricks with Cards, and other Re- Post creations; with Entertaining Experi- pl By GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA. ments in Drawing-room or * White 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. - Magic.” By W. H. CREMER. 300 ales' séarden partf Engravings. Sanson.—Seven Generations The Pyrotechni st's Treasury; Or, of Executioners: Memoirs of the Edited Complete Art o f Making Fireworks. d House Sanson Family (1688 to 1847). By THomAs KENTISH. With numer- byHENRYSaNSON. Cr.8vo,cl.ex. 3s.6d. ous Illustrations. Saunders (John), Novels by: The Art of Amusing: A Collection of g) Wors? Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; Graceful Arts,Games, Tricks,Puzzles, oWns: 5,60 post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28, each. and Charades. By FRANK BELLEW. §v 0 0,0 With 300 Illustrations. | Eton &N d Harfo" Bound to the Wheel. Hanky-Panky : Very Easy Tricks, §vo. ) One Against the World. Very Difficult Tricks, White Magic, Di Guy Waterman. Sleig ht of Hand. Edited by W. H. wit R The Lion in the Path. CREMER. With 200 Tllustrations. EDRI c;;:,fl:. The Two Dreamers éq‘ §70, 22 BOOKS PUBLISHEP BYs S, T SECRET Out " SERIES, continued— S‘Eelley’s Complete Works, in The Merry Circle: A Book of Ne qunas (. Intellectual Games and Amusements. Four Vols., post 8vo, cloth limp, 83.; ales of y CLARA BELLEw. With many or separately, 2s. each. Vol. I. con- I]lust[at Illustrations. tains his Early Poems, Queen Mab, Magician’s Own Book: Performances &c., with an Introduction by Leieu o, o with Cups and Balls, Eggs, Hats, Hunt; Vol II, his Lai ter Poems, The Wool Handkerchiefs, &c. All from actual Laon and Cythna, &c.; Vol T A North Experience, Edited by W. H, Cre- Posthumous Poems,the Shell ey Papers, DORNE: MER, 200 Illustrations. &c.; Vol. IV., his Prose Works, in- SuitH, Magic No Tricks with cluding A Refutation of Deism, Zas- Mystery : trozzi, St. Irvyne, &c. Soclety ards, Dice, Balls, &c., with fully Forsie § descriptive Directions ;. the Art of Sheridan:— Secret Writing; Training of Per- Sheridan’s Complete Works, with Crown §v0 forming Animals, &c. With Co- Life and Anecdotes. Including his loured Frontis. and many Illusts. B Dramatic Writings, printed from the ol Original Editions, his Works in oloj : An Senior (William), Works by : the Belief i Travel and Trout in the Antipodes. Prose and Poetry, Translations, and the Po Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 68. Speeches, Jokes, Puns, &c. With a By T A By Stream and Sea. Post 8vo, cloth Collection of Sheridaniana. Crown Crown 8v0, limp, 2s. 6d. 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, with 10 full- page Tinted Illustrations, 7s. 6d. Spanish L Seven Sagas (The) of Prehis- Sheridan’s Comedies: The Rivals, Mrs.S.G. toric Man. By JaMEs H. STODDART, and The School for Scandal. “Round a Author of “ The Village Life.” Crown Edited, with an Introduction and 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. Notes to each Play, and a Bio- cloth extra, pls S o e e i Y P S graphical Sketch of Sheridan, by Shakespeare : BRrRANDER MATTHEWS, With Decora- Heron Dy} The First Folio Shakespeare.—MRr. tive Vignettes and 1o full-page Illusts, With a Fr WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'S Comedies, Djn:x?y 8vo, half-parchment, 12s. 6d. Epwaros. Histories, and Tragedies, Published Short Sayings of Great Men. 35.64.; pos accordingtothe true Originall Copies. With Historical and E London, Printed by IsaAc IAGGARD xplanatory Spenser f and Ep. BLouNT. 1623.—A Repro- Notes by SAMUEL A. ENT, M . H. Towsy. duction of the extremelyrare original, _Demy 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. — Ll L ‘ in reduced facsimile, by a photogra- WarTeR | phic process—ensuring the strictest Sidney’s (Sir Philip) Complete Coloured Il accuracy in every detail, Small 8vo, Poetical Works, including all those in Staunton, half-Roxburghe, 7s. 6d. ‘“Arcadia.” With Portrait, Memorial- ThelLansdowne Shakespeare. Beau- Introduction, Notes, &c., by the Rev. of Chess; A. B. Grosart, D.D. Three Vols., of the Op tifully printed in red and black, in End Game small but very clear type. With crown 8vo, cloth boards, 18s. Edited by} engraved facsimile of DROESHOUT’S Signboards : Their History. Edition, sn Portrait. Post 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. With Anecdotes of Famous Taverns Shakespeare for Children: Tales and Remarkable Characters. Sterndale from Shakespeare. By CHARLES By and MaRry Lawms. With numerous JAcoE LArRwoop and JouN Cawm HoTTEN, DEN ANovel, B Illustrations, coloured a: nd plain, by Crown 8vo, cl oth extra, DALE, Cr, J. Moyr SmiTH. Cr. 4to, cl. gilt, 6s. with 100 Illustrations, 7s. 6d. Sl 8vo, illustr The Handbook of Shakespeare Music. Sims (George R.), Works by : Stevenso Pieces of Music, set to Words taken Being an Account of 350 How the Poor Live. With 6o Illusts, Travels | by FRED. BARNARD, Large 4to, 1s. Cevenng speare, from the Plays and Poems of Shake- the Rogues and Vagabonds. Post 8vo, RANE, compositions r anging illust.rboarg}sr, ; 28.; cloth limp, 2s. 6d. D An Infang Present Time. from the Elizabethan Age to the By ALFRED ROFFE. Sketchley:;A Match in the W, Cra 4to, half-Roxburghe, 7s. Dark. ByARTHUR SKETCHLEY. Post Virginibyg A Study of Shakespeare. By ALGER- e 8v9_,_i_1]13§&£ated boards, 2s. e e apers, NON CHARLES SWINBURNE, Crown Famillan 8vo, cloth extra, 8s. Slang Dictionary, The: Ety- T0Wn § The Dramatic Works of Shake- molo; gical, Historical, and Anecdotal, W Argt speare: The Text of the First G Crox.ayn 8vo, cloth ext e tlextry Edition, carefully reprinted, E ight ra, gilt, 6s. 6d. he il Vols., demy 8vo, cloth boards, 4 0s. Smith (J. Moyr), Works p Y: The Prince of Ar Tontigy *.* Only 250 Sets have b een printed, Old Greek Fair; y Time. golis: A Story of the ince ¢ each one numbered. The volumes will SMITH, By J. Moyr = 10, o not be sold separately. Small 8vo, clot, h extra, with 130 Illustrations, 3s. 6d, St \John By Byyry ih rateq b 2 8 Yoy CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 1 iy : SMITH’S (J. MoyR) WORKS, continued— 2, Stoddard.—Summer Cruising Tales of Old Thule Collected and in the South Seas. By CHARLES Illustrated by MovRrR SMITH. Cr WARREN STODDARD. Illust. by WaLLIS I 8vo, cloth gilt, profusely Illust., 6s. Macxkay. Crown 8vo, cl. extra, 3s. 6d. The Wooling of the Water Witch: A Northern Oddity. By EvaN DaL- St. Pierre.—Paul and Virginia, 0 f DORNE. Illustrated by J. Moyr and The Indian Cottage. By BER- ls. SwmiTH. Small 8vo, cloth extra, 6s NARDIN StT. PIERRE. Edited, with Life, by Rev. E. CLARKE. Post8vo clLlp.,2s. Society in London B a FOREIGN RESIDENT Eighth Edition Stories from Foreigh Novel- Won Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. ists, ‘With Notices of their Lives and Writings By HELEN and ALICE Z1M- it fi MERN; and a Frontispiece. Crown Spalding.-Elizabethan Demon- ology An Essay in Illustration of 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d W the Belief in the Existence of Devils, Strutt’s Sports and Pastimes and the Powers possessed by Them By T. ALFRED SPALDING, LL.B of the People of England the Rural and Domestic Recreations, including Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 5 May Games, Mummeries, Shows, Pro e Rivals, Spanish Legendary Tales. By cessions, Pageants, and Pompous Standal Mrs. S. G. C. MIDDLEMORE, Author of Spectacles, from the Earliest Period ““ Round a Posada Fire Crown 8vo, to the Present Time With 140 Illus- cloth extra, 63 trations, Edited by WiLLiam HONE. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d Speight. — The Mysteries of Heron Dyke. By T. W. SPEIGHT. Suburban Homes (The) of ith a Frontispiece by M. ELLEN London A Residential Guide to EDWARDS. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, Favourite London Localities, their 3s. 6d. ; post8vo illustrated boards, 2s. Society, Celebrities, and Associations. »f Great Men ‘With Notes on their Rental, Rates,and natory Spenser for Children House Accommodation With Map of A H. TowRry. By M Suburban London. Cr.8vo,cl.ex.,78.6d With Illustrations by WALTER J. MORGAN Crowa 4to, with Swift’'s Choice Works, in Prose ilip) Complete Coloured Illustrations, cloth gilt, 6s. Staunton.—Laws and Practice and Verse With Memoir, Portrait al and Facsimiles of the Maps in the of Chess; Together with an Analysis Original Edition of “ Gulliver’s of the Openings, and a Treatise on Travels.” Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. Bl End Games By HOWARD STAUNTON. Swinburne Edited by RoBERT B. WorMALD. New (Algernon C), Edition, small cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 5s Works b, The Queen Mother and Rosamond Sterndale.—The Afghan Knife Fcap. 8vo, 58 b ANovel. By ROBERT ARMITAGE STERN- Atalanta in Calydon Crown 8vo, 63 Jor DALE. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post Chastelard ATragedy. Cr. 8vo, 7s 0, C ey 8vo, illustrated boards, 28 Poems and Ballads FIrRST SERIES Fcap. 8vo, 98 Cr. 8vo, same price Stevenson (R.Louis), Works by Poems and Ballads. SECOND SERIES Travels with a Donkey in the Fcap. 8vo, 9s Cr. 8vo, same price Wonks by Notes on Poems and Reviews. 8vo,1s i) Cevennes. Frontispiece by WALTER William_Blake: A Critical Essay CRrANE. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. ‘With Facsimile Paintings. jon An Inland Voyage With Front. by Demy W. CraNE. Post 8vo, cl. Ip., 2s. 6d 8vo, 16s. Virginibus Puemsque, and other Songs before Sunpise. Cr.8vo, 105.6d jatoh n the apers. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. Bothwell A Tragedy. Cr.8vo,12s.6d ey, Pt Famillar Studies of Men and Books. George Chapman: An Essay. Crown Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s 8vo s New Arabian Nights, Crown 8vo, Songs of Two Nations Cr. 8vo, 68 o: By cl. extra, 68.; post 8vo, illust, bds., 28 Essays and Studies. Crown 8vo, 128 g T il The Silverado Squatters With Erechtheus: A Tragedy. Cr.8vo,6s Anecdo Frontispiece. Cr.8vo, cloth extra,6s Note of an English Republican on tra, Prince Otto: A Romance. Crown the Muscovite Crusade 8vo, 18 A Note on Charlotte Bronte. Crown orks by 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. [In prepamr.fzon MR AR R e ks 8vo, 68 st A Sporpofie . py). Mork st.John.—A Levantine Famlly A Study of Shakespeare. Cr. 8vo, 8 By BAYLE ST. JOHN, Pest 8vo, illus- Songs of the Springtides. Cr.8vo, 6s. CIO dhesty i trated boards, 2s. Studies in Song Crown 8vo, 78. 24 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY — rolloel SWINBURNE (ALGERNON C.) Works, con. Mary Stuart: A Tragedy. Cr. 8vo, 8s. Thomas (Bertha), Novels by. Crown B¢ Tristram of Lyonesse, and other Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each gvo, illust Poems. Crown 8vo, 9s. post 8vo, illustrated boards, 28. each, Like Sh A Century of Roundels. Small 4to, Cressida. Mabel’s cloth extra, 8s. Proud Maisie Anne Fu A Midsummep Holiday, and other The Violin-Player. Poems. Crown 8v Trollope( Marino Faliero: A T o, cloth extra, 7s. Thomas (M.).—A Fight for Life Diamond, ~_8vo, cloth extra, 6s. ragedy. Crown A Novel. By W. Moy THOMAS, Post T, ADoLPH 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. ex,, 35 60 Symonds.—Wine, Women and Medizval Thomson’sSeasons and Castle Trowbrid Song: Songs. Latin Students’ of Indolence. With a Biographical ANovel. B lish Vers Now first translated into Eng- end Critical In troduction by Arran SyMONDS. e, with Essay by J. ADDINGTON CUNNINGHAM, and over 50 fine Illustra- WD Small 8vo, parchment, 6s. tions on Steel and cloth extra, gilt ed Wood. Crown 8vo, furgem’efl Syntax’s (Dr.) Three Tours : ges, 78, 6d. from Foreig In Search of the Picturesque, in Search llustrated b ) of Consolation, and in Search of a Thornbury (Waiter), Works by Haunted London. Wife. With the whole of ROWLAND- Edited by Ep- Tytler (52 SON’s droll page Illustrationsin Colours WARD WALFORD, M.A. With™ Illus- Crown 8o, and a Life of th e Author by J. C trations by F. W. FAIRHOLT, F.S.A. post 8o, il HorTEN, Me,d;fi‘{ ks e Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. What Sh o, cloth extrd, 75. 6d. Pt e The Life and Correspondence of The Brid Taine's Histo ry of E'nglish J M. W. Turner. Founded upon Literature,. Translated by HEnry Letters and Papers f urnished by his Saint Mu AN LAUN. Four Vols., Friends and feliow Academicians. cloth ex cloth boards, 80s.—PoprurA small 8vo, With numerous Illusts, Beauty ar R EpITION, facsimiled from Turne: in Colours, e Two Vols., crown 8vo, clott Moo By bt o 1 extra, 15s. Drawings. r’s Original crown 8 Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 7s. 6d. T:);y:lor’ (Dr.J. E., F.L.S.), Works Old Stories Re- told. Post 8vo, cloth Tytler (0.7 limp, 2s 5 tress Judit The Sag acity and Morality of Tales for the Marines. Post 8vo, Fraser- Ty Plants: A Sketch of the Life and i]lgstrated boards, 2s. 5.6 post Conduct of the Vegetable Kingdom, With Coloured Frontispiece and 100 Timbs (John), Works by : Van L;d un.- Illusts. Crown 8vo, cl. extra, 7s. 6d. The History of Clubs and Club Life Literature, Our Common Briti sh Fossils, and in London. With Anecdotes of its Complete in Where to Find T hem. With nu- Famous Coffee-h ouses, Cloth boards, merous Illustrations, Crown 8vo, and Taverns, With numerous Illus- Hostelries, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. Villari, — A trations. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. Taylor’s (Bayard) Diversions English Eccentrics and Eccen- tricities: Story. By of the Echo Clu Stories of Wealth and _bro,picture Modern Writers. b: Burlesques of Fashion, Delusion. s, Impostures, and Post 8vo_, cl. limp, 2s. Fanatic Missions ’ Strange Sights Walcott,— Taylor's (Tom) Historical and Sporting Sc enes, Eccentric Life in Eng) Dramas: Artists, Theatrical Folks, Men of ‘“Clancarty,” ‘“ Jeanne Letters, &c. With nearly 50 Illusts. E:‘gliish Stud Fool’s Reven Darc,”” “*Twixt Axe and Crown,” “The Erpwn 8vo, clo_tl_] Tvo v 0; C ge,” “ Arkwright’s Wife,” extra, 7s. 6d. £ | ‘‘Anne Boleyn,” “ Plot and Passion.” 'Forrens. — The Marquess ——frdl With Map ang One Vol,, cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. Wellesley, Archit ect of Empire. An *+* The Plays ma y also be had sepa- Historic Portrait. By W. M. Tor- Walfong g rately, at 18. each. e The Coup ity | _ RENS, M.P. Dg@yfii}vfio,fiquihjxgrg{14S. Kingdoy I, Tennyson (Lor‘dv: A‘Eibgra- Trollope (Anthony) 3 e Desoep phical Sketch. By H. . JENNINGS. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, Novels by: tlon o, g With a Photograph-Portraif, Crown 38. 6d. each xing_uishe'd I 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each €IrS Appay The Way We Live Now. fices they Thackerayana: Notes and Anec- The American Senatorp. dotes. Illustrated by Hundreds of Kept in the Dark. Onang ) Sketches by WiLrLiam Makereack Frau Frohmann, | Marion Fay. Tent THACKERAY, depicting Humorous Mp. Scarborough’ s Family. for 185 clo Incidents in his and The Land-League rs fe Shiy School-life, Favourite Characters in the books of Post 8vo, illustrated bozl_'as, 2s. each, aning g ) 0Usg of his every-day reading. With Coloured The Golden Lio n of Granpere, Frontispiece. Cr. 8vo, cl. extra, 7s. 6d. John Caldigate, Lists of d Tesses glishedya CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY. “J — Novel b WALFORD’s (EDW., M.A.) WORKS, CO7.—= Trollope(FrancesE.),Novelsby Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.; post The Shilling Bar'onetage (1885). 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. Containing an Alphabetical List ot Like Ships upon the Sea the Baronets of the United Kingdom, Mabel’s Progress short Biographical Notices, Dates Anne Furness. of Creation, Addresses, &c. 32mo, Bhtfo Lif cloth, 1s. Published annually. : Trollope(T A.) Diamond Cut The Shlllmg Knightage (1885). Con- Diamond, and other Stories By taining an Alphabetical List of the T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE. Cr. 8vo, cl Knights of the United Kingdom, ex., 3s. 6d.; post 8vo, illust. boards, 2s short Biographical Notices, Dates 158N Cagtly of Creatien, Addresses, &c. 32mo, Trowbridge.—Farnell’s Folly : cloth, 1s Published annual y. 1 A Novel. Byals TRO\VBRIDGE Two The Shilling House of Commons ols. crown 8v (1885). Containing a List of all the A A St Members of Parliament, their Town 1 Turgenieff (Ivan), &c. St Stories from Foreign Novelists. Post 8vo, cloth, 1s. and Country Addresses, &c. 32mo, illustrated boards, 2s Published annually 1) Works by B The Com plete Peerage, Baronet- W B Tytler (Sarah), Novels by: ag Knightage, and House of Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each ; Commons (1885). In One Volume, royal 32mo, cloth extra, gilt edges, post 8vo, illustrated boards 2s. each. 5s. Published annually. 0 of What She Came Thr'ough Haunted London. By WALTER The Bride’s Pass. THORNBURY Edited by EDWARD Saint Mungos Clty Crown 8vo, WaLrorp, M.A. With Illustrations cloth extra, 3s. 6d. by F. W. FairuaoLT, F.S.A., Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. Beauty and ‘the Beast ThreeVols crown 8vo, 31s. Walton and Cotton’sComplete Tytler (C. G Fr*aser'-) — Mis- Angler; or, The Contemplative Man’s tress Judith: A Novel. ByACHCH Recreation ; being a Discourse of ) FRASER-TYTLER Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, Rivers, Fishponds, Fish and Fishing, 38. 6d.; post 8vo, illust. boards, 28 written by Izaax WaLToN; and In- structions how to Angle for a Trout or Van Laun.—History of French Graylingin a clear Stream, by CHARLES Jorks by Literature By HeENrRY VAN LAUN CorToN. With Original Memoirs and and ClupLHe Complete in Three Vols., demy 8vo, Notes by Sir Harris Nicoras, and IS cloth boards, 7s. 6d. each 61 Copperplate Illustrations Large Villari.— A Double Bond: A crown 8vo, cloth antique, 7s. 6d ) Story. By LINDA VILLARI Fcap and 8vo, picture cover, 1s. m o A Wanderer’s Library, The Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 38. 6d. each nd Walcott.— Church Work and Wanderings in Patagonia; or, Life Life in English Minsters; and the among the Ostrich Hunters By English Student’s Monasticon. By the Jurius BEERBOHM. Illustrated. Rev. MackenziE E. C. WaLcorT, B.D Camp Notes: Stories of Sport and Two Vols., Adventure in_ Asia, Africa, and crown 8vo, cloth extra, America. By FREDERICK BoYLE. n[ with Map and Ground- Plans 14s. SO Savage Life, By FrREDERICK BOYLE e Manquess Walford (Edw., M.A.), Works by Merrie England in the Olden Time The County Famllles of the United By GeEorGE DaNIEL. With Illustra- W ‘L‘ Kingdom Containing Notices of tions by RoBT. CRUIKSHANK the Descent, Birth, Marriage, Educa- Circus Life and Circus Celebrities. tion, &c., of more than 12,000 dis- By THoMAS FROST. tinguished Heads of Families, their The Lives of the Conjurers. By ) Novels by: Heirs Apparent or Presumptive, the THoMAS FROST, Offices they hold or have held, their The OIld Showmen and the Old Town and Country Addresses, Clubs, London Fairs. By THomAs FRrROST. &c Twenty-fitth Annual Edition, Low-Life Deeps. An Account of the o Now, for 1885, cloth, fall gilt, 508 Strange Fish to be found there. By nator Con~ The Shilling Peerage (1885). The Wilds of London JAaMES GREENWOOD. Marion F& taining an Alphabetical List of the GREENWOOD By JaMEs s Family House of Lords, Dates of Creation, ‘PS Lists of Scotch and Irish Peers, Tunis The Land and the People Addresses, &c 320, cloth, 18, By the Chevalier de HE3SE-WAR- oar d s Published annually. TEGG. With 22 Illustrations i ranpte 26 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY b | WANDERER’S LIBRARY, THE, continued— Whistler v. Ruskin: Art and e The Lifeand Adventures of a Cheap Jack. B Art Critics, By J. A. MacNELL y One of the Fraternity. [ JsCASHEL! Edited by CHARLES HINDLEY. : VVVHISTLIER.. ZAtrhiEfid%'tion,_sq.i_Bxp, 1s. Sim ey L T Lover’s The World Behind the Scenes. By White’s Natural Histop Hoey, Autho PERCY FITZGERALD. W G Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings: Selborne. Edited, wit h Additions, by an Aloe,” &¢ Includi ng the Origin of Signs, and HOMAS BRrown, F.L.S. Post 8vo, by . MaoN Reminiscences connected with Ta- _ cloth limp, 2s, fo. verns, Coffee Houses, Clubs, &c. Williams By CuARLES HinpLEY., With Illusts, (W. Mattieu, F.R.A.S.), s4paH TYIL The Genial Showman : Life and Ad- Works by : 4 geauty and tf ventures of Artemus Ward. By E, P, Science No tes. See the GENTLEMAN'S TyL R Magazin E 18. Monthly. Gaint M HiNegsToN. With a Frontispiece, Sclence in Short Chapters. Crown acqueline The Story of the London Parks. By Jacos Larwoon. 8vo, cloth extra, 73, 6d. B0, Jeeq With Illusts. A Simple Treatise on Heat. Crown London Characters. By HENRY May- HEW. 8vo, cloth lim NEW NOVELS Illustrated. The Chemistn| p, with Illusts,, 2s. 6d. Seven Generations of Executioners: ra, 6s. y of Cookery. Crown By Mead and. S Memoirs of the Sanson Family (1688 8vo, clgth ext , B BBON, s 0 to 1847). Edited by HENRY SANSON. “The G g Summepr Cruising in the South Wilson (Dr. Andrew, Works by : F.R.SE), Meadow,” dc. Seas. By C. WARREN STODDARD, Chapters on Evolutio n: A Popular A Hard Knot. Illustrated bx_YVALLls MackaAY. e History of the Darwinian ~ and Three V Warner.—A Roundabout Jour- Allied " Theories o f Development. Heart's Del ney. By CHARLEs D UDLEY WARNER, Second Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth Three Vol Author of ¢ My Summer in a Garden.” extra, with 259 I1lu strations, 7s. 6d. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6s. Leaves from a Naturalist’s Note- b ook. Post 8vo, cloth limp, 2s. 6d. Warrants, &c.:— Lei sure-Time Studies, Popular Stori Warrant to Execute Charles|. An logical. Third Edition , with a New chiefly. Bio- Preface. Crown 8v BY MRS, . exact Facsimile, with the Fifty-nine o, cloth extra, Signatures, and corresponding Seals, ;Iilil‘ustre}tions, 6s. Mald, Wife, o Carefully printed on paper to imitate BY the Original, 22 in. by 14in. Price 25, Wintep (J. S.), Stories by : Warrant to Execute Mary Queen of Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s.6d. each, ADrawn Gam Scots. An exact Facsimile, includ- post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. BY W. BESAN ing the Signature of Queen Eliza- Cavalry Life. | Regim bt oo beth, and a Facsimile of the Great ental Legends, Ready-Money ) Seal. Beautifully printed on paper Women of the Da Y: A Biogra- Hy Little Girl, to imitate the Original MS. Price 92s. phical Dictionary of Notable Contem- The Case of M na Charta. An exact Facsimile poraries. By FrRANCES Havs, Crown Mot _the Original Document in the hEyfo,EIot}gA extra, 53, This Son of Vy With Harp and British Museum, printed on fine Wood.—Sabina: A Novel, plate paper, nearly 3 feet long by 2 By 28. The Golden By teet wide, with the Arms and Seals _ Lady Woob. Post 8vo, illust, bds., By Cella's Anbo emblazoned in Gold and Colours, Words, Facts ; and Phprases: The Honks of 1 Price 5s. A Dictionar: y of Curiou The Roll of Battle Abbey; or, A List Out-of-the-Way Matters, B S, Quaint, and Thas in Trafy of the Principal Warriors who came EDpwARDS. New and chea By ELiezER The Seamy g over from Normandy with William per issue, the Conqueror, and Settled in this cr. 8vo,cl. ex., 7s. 6d. ; half- bound, 9s. The Ten Yeapy Country, A.D. 1066-7. With the Wright (Thomas), The Chaplay of principal Arms emblazoned in Gold Works by : and Colours. Price 5s. Caricature History of the G (The House of eorges. Orothy Forstg Hanover.,) With 400 BY WaLr; Wéé’theifl,iHoW’rc’o?o'reteiI th:, Pictures, Caricatures, Squib, s, Broad- Al Sopts and Co with the Pocket Spectro: sides, Window Pictures, &c. 3 Crown F. W. Cory, M.R.C.S. scope. By 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d, TheCaptgjpg R ng., F.R.Met. History of Cari cature and of the lling Garden | Soc., &c. With 1o Illustrations. Crown d. Grotesque in _Art, Literature, 0ot R 8vo, 1s. ; cloth, 1s. Sculpture, and Paintin hy Forstey Westropp.—Handbook of Pot- Illustrated by F, W. g. Profusely ¥ R0BERy -S.A. Large post 8vo, cl. AIRHOLT, Child of Nat ery and Porcelain; or, History of ex., 7s.6d. those Arts from the Earliest Period. Yates (Edmund), Novels by : G ang gy, By HoppErR M. WESTROPP, With nu- Post 8vo, illustrated The Shadoy o merous Illustrations, and a List of Castaway. | boards, 2s, each, The Mg Marks. Crown 8vo cloth limp, 48, 6d. Land at Last. The Forlorn Hope. Ity Love o op Anngp Wat . 27 CHATTO &AWINDI{‘?' PICCADIL_LY. M 44 NOVELS BY THE BEST AUTHORS. Mys.CASHEL HOEY'S NEW NOVEL. NEW NOVEL BY CECIL POWER. H[stopy o The Lover’s Creed. By Mrs. CASHEL Philistia. By CeciL POWER. Three s by Hokey, Author of “The Blossoming of Vols., crown 8vo. Pt an Aloe,” &c. With 12 Illustrations by P. MAcNAB. Three Vols., crown NEW NOVEL BY THE AUTHOR 8vo. OF ‘“VALENTINA.” LR SARAH TYTLER'S NEW NOVEL. Gerald. By ELeaNOR C. Price. Three Vols., crown 8vo. 2 Beauty and the Beast. By SarAH BASIL'S NEW NOVEL. TYTLER, Author of “ The Bride’s Pass,” At e, Cromy ‘“Saint Mungo’s City,” ‘“ Citoyenne “The Wearing of the Green.” By e Jacqueline,” &c. Three Vols., crown Basir, Author of “ Love the Debt,” eat, (rom VO. ‘“A Drawn Game,” &c. Three Vols., 8B, crown 8vo. ke, Cromy NEW NOVELS BY CHAS. GIBBON. By Mead and Stream. By CHARLES NEW NOVEL BY ¥. T. TROW- GiBBON, Author of “Robin Gray,” RIDGE. ““The Golden Shaft,” “ Queen of the o, FRSE), Meadow,” &c. Three Vols., cr. 8vo. Farn.ell’s Folly. Two Vols., crown 8vo, itlo A Hard Knot. By CHARLES GIBBON. Mrs. PIRKIS'S NEW NOVEL. Three Vols., crown 8vo. Lady Lovelace. ByC.L.Pirkis, Author Heart’s Delight. By CHARLES GIBBON. of ““ A Very Opal.”” Three Vols., crown Three Vols., crown 8vo. 8vo. alst’s Note: THE PICCADILLY NOVELS. Popular Stories by the Best Authors. LisrAry EpITIONS, many Illustrated, crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d. each. New BY MRS. ALEXANDER. BY MRS. H. LOVETT CAMERON. ) G Mald, Wife, or Widow ? Deceivers Ever. | Juliet’s Guardian BY BASIL. BY MORTIMER COLLINS. ieg by A Drawn Game. Sweet Anne Page. BY W. BESANT & FAMES RICE. Transmigration. Ready-Money Movrtiboy. ntal Legends, From Midnight to Midnight. Da My Little Girl. MORTIMER & FRANCES COLLINS, The Case of Mr. Lucraft. Blacksmith and Scholar. This Son of Vulcan. The Village Comedy. With Harp and Crown. You Play me False. ovel The Golden Butterfly. AN Bv By Celia’s Arbour. BY WILKIE COLLINS. The Monks of Thelema. Antonina. | New Magdalen. Basil. and Phrases: *Twas in Trafalgar’s Bay. | 1 The Frozen Deep. The Seamy Side. Hide and Seek. The Law and the By Buieziz The Ten Years’ Tenant. The Dead Secret. r Lady. :erss : 5 d 0% The Chaplain of the Fleet. Queen of Hearts. | TheTwo Destinies b al Dorothy Forster. My Miscellanies. Haunted Hotel. Woman in White. The Fallen Leaves v Works by: BY WALTER BESANT. The Moonstone. All Sorts and Conditions of Men. Jezebel’sDaughtep The Captains’ Room. Man and Wife. The Black Robe. B Poor Miss Finch. Heart and Science s, Crom All in a Garden Fair. Miss or Mrs. ? Dorothy Forster. | Say No. BY DUTTON COOK. % anfl‘ of the BY ROBERT BUCHAN‘»?N. Paul Foster’s Daughter. pot, L teratuts A Child of Nature. jntln P rofuself God and the Man. BY WILLIAM CYPLES., W, oLty The Shadow of the Sword. : Hearts of Gold. g cL 1= The Martyrdom ‘of Madeline. BY ALPHONSE DAUDET. Novels bY Love Me for Ever. Port Salvation. oards 2, eact Annan Water. The New Abelard Hopés | BY ¥AMES DE MILLE, Forlorn Matt. Foxglove Manor. A Castle in Spain. . 28 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY a2 PrecAdiiLY No Piccapiry NovELS, continued— Prccapiry NoveLs, continued— . BY %. LEITH DERWENT. BY E. LYNN LINTON. BY CH,JRL Patricia Kemball It Is Never T Our Lady of Tears. | Circe’s Lovers. Atonement of Leam Dundas. Hand Cash: BY M. BETHAM-EDWARDS. The World Well Lost. christle Joh Felicia. | Kitty. Under which Lord? Grfith Ga BY MRS, ANNIE EDWARDES. With a Silken Thread. The Double Archie Lovell. The Rebel of the Family Love Me Lit BY R. E. FRANCILLON. “My Love!” | lone. g The Clofstef BY HENRY W. LUCY. Olympia. One by One. The Course Queen Cophetua. A Real Queen. Gideon Fleyce. The Autobio BY FUSTIN McCARTHY, M.P. put Yoursel Prefaced by Sir BARTLE FRERE. The Waterdale Neighbours. Pandurang Hari. My Enemy’s Daughter. A Terrible T The Wander BY EDWARD GARRETT. lLinley Rochford. | A Fair Saxon. The Capel Girls. Dear Lady Disdain. A Woman-H Miss Misanthrope. | Donna Quixote Singleheart BY CHARLES GIBBON. The Jilt. Rohin Gray. | For Lack of Gold The Comet of a Season. Maid of Athens. Good Storie In Love and War. BY MRS. What will the World Say ? BY GEORGE MAGC DONALD,LL.D For the King. | In Honour Bound Paul Faber, Surgeon. Her Mother Thomas Wingfole, Curate. Prince of W Queen of the Meadow. !n Pastures Green. BY MRS. MACDONELL. Weird Storie The Flower of the Forest. Quakepr Cousins. BY'F. Women are A Heart’s Problem. BY KATHARINE. S. MACQUOID., Lost Rose | The Braes of Yarrow. The Evil Eye. The Hands The Golden Shaft. | Of High Degree BY FLORENCE MARRYAT. BY 501 Open! Sesame! | weritten in Fire Fancy Free. | Loving a Dream Bound to th BY HALL CAINE. BY ¥EAN MIDDLEMASS. Guy Watepm Touch and Go. The Shadow of a Crime. BY D. CHRISTIE MURRAY. One Against BY THOMAS HARDY. Life’s Atonement. Coals of Fire, The Lion in BY KATH4 Under the Greenwood Tree. Joseph’s Coat. [ Val Strange. BY FULIAN HAWTHORNE, A Model Father. ¥ Hearts. Joan Merryy By the Gate of ths Sea Margaret an Garth. | Ellice Quentin Sebastian Strome. The Way of the World. Gldeon's Roc Prince Saroni’s Wife. A Bit of Human Nature. The High M BY MRS. OLIPHANT. Dust. | Fortune’s Fool Whiteladies. Beatrix Randolph. Cl Miss Cadogna. BY MARGARET A. PAUL. Gentle and Simple. BY Ep) BY SIR A. HELPS, BY FAMES PAYN. Ivan de Biron. Lost Sir Massing- | Carlyon’s Year. The Fellah, berd. | | BY MRS. ALFRED HUNT, Confidential BY 1) Thornicroft’s Model. Best of Husbands | Agent. Carr o Capy) The Leaden Casket. Fallen Fortunes. From Exile. Halves. | BY jip Self-Condemned. Walter’'s Word. A Grape from a Thorn. Nald, Wi, o Valrlels Fay, BY FEAN INGELOW, What He Cost Hepr | For Cash Only. Fated to be Free. Less Black than|Some Private BY SHELS) BY HARRIETT FAY. We’re Painted. Grentley pg By Proxy. | Views. The Queen of Connaught ) Kit: A Memory. By, p ES4] The Dark Colleen. High Spirits. | The Canon’s Ready Under One Roof. } Ward. With Money BY HENRY KINGSLEY, BYZE, C. PRICE) Thig Harp g Number Seventeen. Valentina. Son oy Oakshott Castle. Mrs. Lancaster’s Rival. The Forelgners, he Cagg of he Goldep | ¥ Celis p 116 Mon ¥ CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 29 N, PiccapiLrLy NOVELS, continued— PrccapiLry NovELs, continued— BY CHARLES READE, D.C.L. BY T. W. SPEIGHT. M Dinday, It is Never Too Late to Mend. The Mysteries of Heron Dyke. %, Hard Cash. | Peg Woffington. Christie Johnstone. BY R. A. STERNDALE. e, The Afghan Knife. Griffith Gaunt. | Foul Play. Faily The Double Marriage. BY BERTHA THOMAS. long, Proud Maisie. I Cressida. Love Me Little, Love Me Long. The Cloister and the Hearth. The Violin-Playey The Course of True Love. BY ANTHONY TROLLOPE bours, The Autobiography of a Thief. The Way we Live Now. Put Yourself in His Place. The American Senatcr A Terrible Temptation. ARl Sax, Frau Frohmann. | Marion Fay. The Wandering Heir. A Simpleton. Kept in the Dark. A Woman-Hater. Readiana. Mp. Scarborough’s Family. Singleheart and Doubleface. ‘Oflfl'&ulxaxe; 0f I The Land-Leaguers. The Jilt. [mals. BY FRANCES E. TROLLOPE. Good Stories of Men and other Ani- ) i) Like Ships upon the Sea. LD, BY MRS. ¥. H. RIDDELL. Anne Furness. Her Mother’s Darling. Mabel’'s Progress. Curate, Prince of Wales’s Garden-Party. BY T. A. TROLLOPE: Weird Stories. Diamond Cut Diamond BY F. W. ROBINSON. Women are Strange. By IVAN TURGENIEFF and Others, Stories from Foreign Novelists. | Eye. The Hands of Justice. BY ¥OHN SAUNDERS. BY SARAH TYTLER, in e, Bound to the Wheel. What She Came Through. ) Guy Waterman.| Two Dreamers. The Bride’s Pass. One Against the World. Saint Mungo’s City. The Lion in the Path. BY C..C. FRASER-TYTLER. (Coal BY KATHARINE SAUNDERS. Val & Joan Merryweather. Mistress Judith. Hearts BY %. S. WINTER. Margaret and Elizabeth. Sea Gideon’s Rock. Heart Salvage. Cavalry Life. The High Mills. Sebastian. Regimental Legends. Natt CHEAP EDITIONS OF POPULAR NOVELS. Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. BY EDMOND ABOUT. By BESANT AND RICE, continued— p The Fellah. "Twas in Trafalgar’s Bay. BY HAMILTON AIDE. The Seamy Side. arly on's Year Confidences. The Ten Years’ Tenant. Carr of Carrlyon. | The Chaplain of the Fleet. 4 Cordntd BY MRS. ALEXANDER, | pgert BY WALTER BESANT. From Exle Maid, Wife, or Widow ? All Sorts and Conditions of Men. Valerie’s Fate. The Captains’ Room. 4 Grape fron & BY SHELSLEY BEAUCHAMP. All in a Garden Fair. Thorn for Cash Only: Grantley Grange. BY FREDERICK BOYLE, ate BY W. BESANT & FAMES RICE., Camp Notes. | Savage Life. gome P Chronicles of No-man’s Land ews: 1\ Ready-Money Mortiboy. BY BRET HARTE. Kit: A4 0Ty With Harp and Crown. canons This Son of Vulecan. | My Little Girl An Heiress of Red Dog. The The Case of Mr. Lucraft. The Luck of Roaring Camp. | ard - The Golden Butterfly. Californian Stories. PRICE: By Celia’s Arbour. Gabriel Conroy. | Flip. The Foré foners The Monks of Thelema. Maruja. vl CHATIO & 30 it BOOKS PUI;’Z;IASHED BY ELSy —_— (HEA » DOPULAR N £D HUN CHEAP PoruLAR NOVELS, continmed— CHEAP POPULAR NovEeLs, continued— BY ROBERT BUCHANAN., Thomnleroft! s Model The Shadow of BY PERCY FITZGERALD. Casket: the Sword. TheMartyrdomof Bella Donna. | Never Forgotten, The Leaden Madeline. The Second Mprs. Tillotson. se\f(‘,ondem"ed' A Child of Nature. | Annan Water. | Polly. v FEAN INGBLOW, God and the Man. ree: Love Me for Ever. [ The New Abelard. Seventy-five Brooke Street. fated to be fi The Lady of Brantome. BY HAR RIEIT 7Y, BY MRS. BURNETT. The Dark Colleen: Surly Tim. BY ALBANY DE FONBLA NQUE. The Queen of Con" aught: Filthy Lucre. i NGSLEY: BY MRS. LOVETT CAMERON. BY R. E. FRANCILLON. BY HENRY K1 Deceivers Ever. | Juliet’s Guardian. Olympia. Oakshott Castle IN umber Seve BY MACLAREN COBBAN. Queen Cophetua, The Cure of Souls. One by One. A Real Queen. By B LINN LINTON. Prefaced by Siv H, BARTLE FRERE. patricla Kembell BY C. ALLSTON COLLINS, Pandurang Hari. The Atonement of Leam Dun The Bar Sinister. BY WILKIE COLLINS. BY HAIN FRISWELL. The World Well Lost. Antonina. One of Two. Under which Lord ? | Miss or Mrs. ? With a Silken Thread. Basil. | New Magdalen. BY EDWARD GARRETT The Rebel of the Family. Hide and Seek. , The Frozen Deep. The Capel Girls. The Dead Secret. BY CHARLES GIBBON. “My Love!” | lone. | Law and the Lady BY HENRY W. LUCY. Queen of Hearts. TheTwo Destinies Robin Gray. Queen of the Mea- My Miscellanies. Haunted Hotel. For Lack of Gold. dow. Gideon Fleyce. Woman in White. TheFallen Leaves. What will the | The Flower of the BY JUSTIN McCARTHY, M. The Moonstone. World Say ? orest. Dear LadyDisdaln | Linley Roch Jezebel’sDaughter The Waterdale | MissMisant] Man and Wife. The Black Robe. In Honour Bound. | A Heart’s Problem Poor Miss Finch. Heartand Science The Dead Heart. The Braes of Yar- Neighbours, | Donna Quix In Love and War. row. My Enemy's The Comet BY MORTIMER COLLINS. The Golden Shaft Daughter. Season, Sweet Anne Page. From Midnight to For the King. A Fair Saxon, Transmigration. Midnight. In Pastures Green | Of High Degree. | Maid of Ath A Fight with Fortune. BY GEORGE MAC DONAL BY WILLIAM GILBERT. MORTIMER & FRANCES COLLINS. Dr. Austin’s Guests. Paul Faben, Surgeon, Sweet and Twenty. | Frances. The Wizard of the Mountain. Thomas Wingfold, Curate, Blacksmith and Scholar. James Duke. BY MRS, Quaker Coug| ns, MACDONEL, The Village Comedy. BY ¥AMES GREENWOOD. You Play me False. Dick Temple. BY KATH4 RINE §, BY DUTTON COOK. The Evil Eye, | L H4cqu( Leo. Every-Day Papers. BY ANDREW HALLIDAY, J 05t Roge | Paul Foster’s Daughtep, | The Ne{; M4LLock, BY WILLIAM CYPLES. BY LADY DUFFUS HARDY. Répub lic, Hearts of Gold. Paul Wynter’s Sacrifice. BY FLORE, NCE MARRy 47 BY ALPHONSE DAUDET. BY THOMAS HARDY, Oen! Sesame The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation, Under the Greenwood Tpee. ttle Step BY DE MILLE, BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE., “g:::‘est of Wilq Flghting the A Castle in Spain. Garth. ritten In f Sebastian Strome X, BY ¥. LEITH DERWENT. Ellice Quentin. Dust. Halt-a.doze, n Our Lady of Tears.| Circe’s Lovers, Prince Saroni’s Wife. [;;au htli?n[sA N BY CHARLES DICKENS. Fortune’s Fool. Sketches by Boz. Oliver Twist. f | Beatrix Randolph, Touch gng éo. MIDDLE.;IA s, Pickwick Papers. BY SIR ARTH UR HELPS, . Doriljj Nicholas Nickleby Ivan de Biron. Life Shtonen, {URR4y BY MRS. ANNIE EDWARDES, A Point of Honour. | Archie Lovell. BY TOM HOOD. odel Fatp, | yth&GateO A Golden Heart. dosepis g Felicia. BY M. BETHAM-EDWARDS, BY MRS. GEORG E HOOPER, 0als of Fire, Ay Val Strang itty. The House of Rab, . BY EDWARD EGGLESTON. oxy. BY VICTOR HUGO, \Vn|te?aydfga{es' OL’PHA}svT, The Hunchback of Notpre Dame, IED py CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY. 31 ? Povy g Cueap Porurar NoveLs, continued— Cuear PoruLAR NOVELS, continued— BY PERcy O'v'ELg‘ o fitege BY MRS. ALFRED HUNT. BY MRS. ROBERT O’REILLY. 57TZGER 4 Thornlicroft’s Model. Phoebe’s Fortunes. la Donng, vep - Secong ST Il :0"%011'%, The Leaden Casket. Sced BY OUIDA. Self-Condemned. Held in Bondage. TwolittleWooden Strathmore. Shoes. enty-fiye Brooke Street, BY FEAN INGELOW. In a Winter City. ® Lady of Brantoe, Fated to be Free. Chandos. Ariadne. BY HARRIETT FAY. Under Two Flags. ALBANY The Dark Colleen. Idalia. Friendship. hy Lucre, DE R OA\'ELA.\'QL'E« The Queen of Connaught. Cecil Castle- Moths. maine. Pipistrello. RANCILLOY, BY HENRY KINGSLEY. ’g;’ia& g2 Queen Coppey Oakshott Castle. | Number Seventeen Tricotrin. A Village Com- by One, A Real Queen, Puck. mune. BY E. LYNN LINTON. Folle Farine. Bimbi. by Sir H, BARTLE Fpgpp Patricia Kemball. In Maremma. durang Hapl, 3 The Atonement of Leam Dundas. A Dog of Flanders. anda. Pascarel. The World Well Lost. Signa. Frescoes. OErB' ‘:41:,” FRISWELL, Under which Lord ? BY EDIVARD GARRETT With a Silken Thread. BY MARGARET AGNES PAUL. Capel Girls, The Rebel of the Family. Gentle and Simple. CHARLES GIBBOY. “My Love!” | lone. BY ¥AMES PAYN. BY HENRY W. LUCY. Lost Sir Massing- Like Father, Like Gray, Queen of the Mea. Gideon Fleyce. berd. Son. ack of Gold, dow, A Perfect Trea- A Marine Resi- will the| The Flower of the BY FUSTIN McCARTHY, M.P. sure. dence. Id Say? 0rest, Dear LadyDisdain | Linley Rochford. Married Beneath The Waterdale MissMisanthrope Bentinck’s Tutor. Him. nour Bound, | A Heart's Problem Neighbours. Donna Quixote. Murphy’s Master. ead Heart, | The Braes of Yar- A County Family. Mirk Abbey. ve and War. Pow. My Enemy’s The Comet of a At Her Mercy. Not Wooed, but The Golden Shaft Daughter. Season. on. 9 King, 5 A Fair Saxon. Maid of Athens. A Woman’s Ven- Less Black than esGreen Of High Degree. BY GEORGE MAC DONALD. geance. We're Painted. Cecll’s Tryst. LIAM GILBERT, Paul Faber, Surgeon. Clyffards of Clyffe By Proxy. Austin's Guests. Thomas Wingfold, Curate. Under One Roof. Wizard of the Mountain. The Family Scape- High Spirits. BY MRS. MACDONELL, grace. gs Duke. Quaker Cousins. Foster Brothers. Carlyon’s Year. {ES GREENT/00D. BY KATHARINE S. MACQUOID, Found Dead. A Confidential The Evil Eye. Lost Rose. Agent. mple. Best of Husbands Some Private / ANDREW HALLIDAY., BY W. H. MALLOCK. Walter’s Word. Views. The New Republic. Halves. From Exile. Day Papers. Fallen Fortunes. LADY DUFFUS HARDY BY FLORENCE MARRYAT. A Grape from a Wynter's Sacrifice. Open! Sesame! A Little Stepson. What He Cost Her Thorn. A Harvest of Wild Fighting the Air. HumorousStories For Cash Only. By THOMAS HARDY. Oats. Written in Fire. Gwendoline’s Har- p the Greenwood Tree. vest. Kit: A Memory. ATWTHORNE BY ¥. MASTERMAN. The Canon s Ward JULIAN H Sebastian Strome Half-a-dozen Daughters. £200 Reward BY EDGAR A. POE. uentin. Touch and Go. BY FEAN MIDDLEMASS. .Dust. e | Mp. Dorillion. The Mystery of Marie Roget. saroni’s Wi leatr'\x Randolph. BY D. CHRISTIE MURRAY. BY E. C. PRICE. e's Fool. | B ALife’sAtonement | By the Gate of the Valentina. | The Foreigners HELPS, Sea. Mrs. Lancaster’s Rival. y SIR ARTHLR A Model Father. de Biron: Joscph’s Coat. Val Strange. BY CHARLES READE, By TOM HOOD Coals of Fire. Hearts. It Is Never Too Late to Mend olden Heart. BY MRS. OLIPHANT. Hard Cash. | Peg Woffington, y MRS GEO RGE HOOPER Whiteladies. Christie Johnstone. House © f Raby: Y Vlck # Nofre Dame Ll 7BOOKS PUBLISHED BY CHATTO & WINDLiS. e CHEAPWI;OPULAR NovEeLs, continued— CHEAP PoPULAR NOVELS, continyed—s By CHARLES READE, continued, Grifith Gaunt. BY ANTHONY TROLLOPE. The Way We Live Now. The Double Marriage. Put Yourself in His Place. The American Senator, Frau Frohmann. Love Me Little, Love Me Long. Marion Fay. Foul Play. Kept in the Dark. The Cloister and the Hearth. Mpr. Scarborough’s Family. The Course of True Love. The Land-Leaguers. Autobiography of a Thief. The Golden Lion of Granpere. A Terrible Temptation. John Caldigate. he Wandering Heir. A Simpleton. A Woman-Hater. ByFRANCES ELEANOR TROLLOPE Readiana. The Jilt. Like Ships upon the Sea. Singleheart and Doubleface. Anne Furness. Good Stories of Men and othep Mabel’s Progress. Animals. BY IVAN TURGENIEFF, &¢ BY MRS. ¥. H. RIDDELL. Her Mother’s Darling. Stories from Foreign Novelists. Prince of Wales’s Ganr BY MARK TWAIN. Weird Stories. den Party. Tom Sawyer. An Idle Excursion. The Uninhabited House. A Pleasure Trip on the Continent Fairy Water. of Europe. BY F. W. ROBINSON. A Tramp Abroad. Women are Strange. The Stolen White Elephant. The Hands of Justice. BY W. CLARK RUSSELL. Mistress Judith. BY C. C. FRASER-TYTLER. Round the Galley Fire. BY SARAH TYTLER. BY BAYLE ST. FOHN. What She Came Through. A Levantine Family. The Bride’s Pass 3 BY GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA, BY . S. WINTER. Gaslight and Daylight. BY FOHN SAUNDERS., Cavalry Life. | Regimental Legends. Bound to the Wheel. Sabina. BY LADY WO0OD, One Against the World. Guy Waterman. BY EDMUND YATES. g The Lion in the Path. Castaway. | The Forlorn Hope. Two Dreamers. Land at Las t. ANONYMOUS, BY KATHARINE SAUNDERS. Paul Ferroll. Joan Merryweather. Margaret and Elizabeth. Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife. The High Mills. BY GEORGE R. SIMS. Fcap. 8vo, picture covers, 1s. each. Rogues and Vagabonds. - Jeff Briggs’s Love Story. By BreT ARTE. The Twins of BY ARTHUR SKETCHLEY., Table Mountain. By A Match in the Dark. BRET HARTE, BY T. W. SPEIGHT. Mrs. Gainsboro ugh’s Diamonds. By JurLiaNn Hawt HORNE. The Mysteries of Heron Dyke. Kathleen M of avourneen. By Author BY R. A. STERNDALE. “That Lass o’ Lowrie’s.” The Afghan Knife. Lindsay’s Luck. By the Author of BY R. LOUIS STEVENSON. “That Lass o’ Lowrie’s.” New Arabian Nights. Pretty Polly Pemberton. By the Author of “That Lass o’ Lowrie’s.” Cressida. BY BERTHA THOMAS. Trooping with Crows. By Mrs. | Proud Maisie. PIRrkIs. — The Violin-Player. The Professor’s Wife. By LEONARD bas BY W. MOY THOMAS. GRAHAM, A Fight for Life. A Double Bond. By Lixpa VILLARI. 220° BY WALTER THORNBURY. Esther’s Glove. By R. E. FRANCILLON, bis DRSS Tales for the Marines. The Garden that Paid the Rent. BY T. ADOLPHUS By ToM JERROLD. TROLLOPE, Curly. By Joux CorLEmaN, Illus- Diamond Cut Diamo nd. trated by J."C. DoLLMay, J. OGDEN AND CO., PRINTERS, 172, ST, JOHN STREET, E.C, 7 2 \Oy ) g & iy, ive | R, Senaty 0, gh's i anily ers, N 0 G EdNopy gy N the g A 5, L Fomgn K Thy, fon, P on the Contey, d it g, L%SEIE-T)’T' R i TYTLER, :Jhmugh‘ WINTER, egimentl Legrd, Y 10D, ND TATES, The Forom Hope. TUOUS, I Killed is Wi ! Pl eoorers Jh. ek — ve Story. By Bt i rable Nountan B s Dlamonds. b men By Autr ) oy By me"!,imhcr o berten By L t Lass ' LOwTES Crows: By M s B L oo Vit RE Fuons pad the et Coueusle [l LAY B 2 7 %, nov, 98 10.3 g6 29, Mmpl 1987 ‘F £0, 15;%} 7 17 Lo mz 1978 . SER. 1880 Adp A o e, A\ g s 3% % 2% e ,_.e% 28 G e Y 0 2 LY et A 3 \mm < X s o N e B &hy 45 i i fl O £ it o T 3 A e B A Ay i (N @M, AE o e (i 7 i o “fi« i T8 e £ T 5 .«fl# Sy i 22 i & S S iy 2 ”&. Py 22 bt ) b e 4 A ~ G g 7 T & e 45 g o 57 B o, L) e 2 39 e @ U ) o gt v 4 7G4 B oA s A > 6% 25, L R X ot N G o { \ X 18 & S S @g &, mnw, o 1 R £ & & e %, * L/ o % g ot i 2 N S K Q% % 3@% § B L \ A P T v 85 o 5 2 (R W pord ™ & e ) P S 3y ¥e SR 3 o B P by FECIESy ST ZE 3z ks 5 y4 Y 22 23 I(l £ 19 20 21 2 e VierFarbSelector Standard* - Euroskala Offset L 18 % © 17 0 I‘.I.§ 16 E VIP f‘XBI\O[ 15 14 & BY 13 = ] D)) > I N I N TWAIN 12 ° TE OF !Ill‘llHHHWHIHIH‘IIHIHIWHHHHIII )} THE N PILGRI IDL EXCU N 11 ; 10 W l‘%é{ A 9 i W IHW‘HHHIH‘HIH S— | i < 8 N S A \ ‘ N ) Ve B - 7 R AN [lHlllHl'llHHIH‘H 6 5 W N EW EDITION N Copyngm 4/1999 YxyMaster GmbH www.yxymaster.com 4 1 3 | ”HH!\HlHH(!HIHHI()HIIHH | London I { [ I —”! ’HH\H|I{)\11lHH~HHHH!‘IHHHH‘W\HH‘H!lIHII(HlIIHHWHIIH’IIHIIHI R [ muu 10 | T