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DEAR WILLIAM, — We are just tying up to the wharf in Suez, and nobody seems to know how long we are to stay before we start on our voyage down the Red Sea. I will write my Sunday letter at once, and tell you that I have come thus far in happiness, health, and safety, and in the Poonah.
On The Poonah
DEAR, WILLIAM, — I write my Sunday letter this week on Friday, because to-night we are to arrive at Aden, and there can mail our epistles. There will not be another chance until we come to Bombay. All this week we have been running down the Red Sea.
DEAR WILLIAM, — In India at last ! And you do not know how queer and beautiful it is. I will tell you about it. On Friday night, at eleven o'clock, the slow old Poonah dropped her anchor in the harbor opposite the Apollo Bandar, which is the landing-place of Bombay.
DEAR LIZZIE, — Since I wrote you, we have come over from Benares, and to-day have been making a delightful excursion to Buddh - gaya, where, as Sir Edwin Arnold tells us so prettily, Gautama sat six years under a bo-tree, and thought and thought, until at last the Dukha-Satya was opened to him, and Buddhism began.
MY DEAR GERTIE, — I wish you had been here with me yesterday. We would have had a beautiful time. You would have had to get up at five o'clock, for at six the carriage was at the door, and we had already had our breakfast.
Cambridge Mission, Delhi
DEAR JOHNNY, — A happy New Year to you and H ___ and both the babies. I received a beautiful letter from you in Bombay, which deserves a better answer than I am afraid it will get from me before dinner is ready.
DEAR WILLIAM, — I write you a rather unexpected letter today, for the last week has been different from what I looked for. Last Sunday I wrote to G from Jeypore. On Sunday night we left that place and came to Delhi, reaching here on Monday at noon.
MY DEAR MARY, — This is the sacredest place in India. There are five thousand Hindoo temples in Benares. . . . You stumble at every step on a temple with its hideous idol, and if you hear a gentleman muttering behind you in the street, he is not abusing you, but only saying prayers to Vishnu or Siva, who has a little shrine somewhere in the back yard of the next house.
DEAR WILLIAM, — Lots of letters today, the best of them your Christmas letter, telling how you received my Bombay telegram, how you went to church and heard Bishop Clark, how you had lots of presents, and went to Salem in the afternoon.
Darjeeling, India
DEAR MISS MORRILL, — Instead of writing you a letter which could be read at our Ash Wednesday meeting, I am writing to you on Ash Wednesday a letter which will hardly reach you before Easter. I explained to you before that I have been unable to see anything of the work of the Zenana Missionary in time to let you hear from me before the meeting.
MY DEAR WILLIAM, — We had a beautiful sail down from Calcutta. For four days the Rohilla slid along over the most beautiful glassy sea, the sky was lovely at sunrise and sunset, the nights were the most gorgeous moonlight, and the sun at noon was hotter than Sancho.
Tanjore, India
DEAR AUNT SUSAN, -I hope you are all well, and I wish that I could drive up the side yard, this morning, and find you all there, going on in the good old-fashioned way.
DEAR WILLIAM,— I am staying at the house of Mr. Sewall, the chief collector of this district, who has taken us in and given us his hospitality for a couple of days. We have reached southern India, and the hot weather is on us, so that except in early morning and late afternoon there is no possibility of moving about and seeing things.
Steamer Godavery, Between Messina And Athens
DEAR WILLIAM,—Here I am on the Mediterranean again. Coming down from Rome to Athens, I crossed by steamer to Messina, and last night our old friend the Godavery, in which three months ago we sailed from Smyrna to Beyrout, took us up and is carrying us fast towards Athens.
Hotel D'angleterre, Athens
Thursday Evening.I am here on the `odos Aloxov, as the street signs call it, which means AEolus Street. I go out on my balcony and look one way, and there is the Temple of the Winds and the Acropolis beyond, with the Parthenon glowing in the sunset.
DEAR FATHER, — Since I came back to Rome, I have been so continually busy that it has been not an easy thing to get time to write. I beg your pardon very humbly. Now I will tell you a little of the much that I have done and seen since I wrote an enormous letter to Arthur from Athens, which was mailed at Naples.
Florence, Hotel De L' Arno
DEAR WILLIAM, — Here I am in my third day at Florence. Before I begin to rave about the city, I will tell you how I came here. When I wrote to John, I was in the midst of Holy Week at Rome. Many of its services, such as the washing of feet and tending on table by the Pope, were disagree-able and fatiguing. But three things stand out in my recollection as very fine and impressive.
Bologna, Italy, Hotel San Marco
DEAR MOTHER, — I am spending a rainy Sunday at this old town of sausages. I believe there are other things than sausages here, but I don't know anything about them yet, for I only got here late last night, and since I woke this morning it has rained so horribly that I haven't been outside the walls of the hotel.
Hotel De L'europe, Avignon, France
DEAR FATHER, — I believe it is two weeks since I have written to any of you at home, though I wrote to Fred from Venice. My excuse must be that these have been two of the busiest weeks of my journeying. Before I plunge into Paris, however, I will let you hear of me from this queer old French town.
DEAR WILLIAM, — I have been in Paris now a week, and a busy week in Paris will let you know a good deal about the city. I have loafed in it from one end to the other, and have seen the bigger part of what is worth seeing in the town itself.
London, Albemarle Hotel
DEAR MOTHER, — I write in great haste this morning, because I do not want this week's mail to go without some indication of me. I am in London again and very well, that is about all that I have time to say. I left Paris behind me on Tuesday morning, and crossed the Channel by way of Boulogne and Folkestone.
Albemarle Hotel, London
DEAR MOTHER, — I must not let today's steamer go without a line to say that I am well. I am still in London, though I expect to leave for the country some time next week. I have promised to speak at a meeting at Birmingham, June 12, that will be my only public performance in England.
University Arms, Cambridge
DEAR FRED, — I am in our Alma Mater's Mater. There is something charmingly homelike and familiar in old Cambridge. Outwardly unattractive by situation, but very lovely with old Gothic courts and buildings, and all the beauty of noble old trees, perfect lawns, and blossomy hawthorns.
Albemarle Hotel, London
DEAR WILLIAM, — There will be another very short and unsatisfactory letter, I am afraid, to-night. The fact is, I can tell you about London by and by a great deal better than I can write it, so we will put it off until I get home, which, by the way, will be on the 25th of September.
Warwick Arms, Warwick
DEAR FATHER, — If a letter is going to you at home this week, it must be written to-night, and yet I confess I don't feel much like writing it. I have just reached here, am very tired, and the waiter is thinking of bringing me some dinner. Until it comes, I will try to talk to you, and you must not be surprised if you find me stupid.
The Goat Hotel, Beddgelert, Wales
DEAR MOTHER, — I am thinking that today is Fred's ordination day, and that you and father are in Philadelphia. Am I right ? How I wish I could be with you. I wonder where the ordination is ? I hope in my old church. It would always be a very pleasant thing to think of his having been ordained there ; wherever it is, I wish him with all my heart every blessing and success in his ministry.
Albemarle Hotel
DEAR WILLIAM, — Last week's letter was sent from the heart of Wales, the foot of Snowdon. This is from the metropolis again, so I spin along. During the week I have seen and done a good deal. We climbed to the Tip Top House of Snowdon, and so began in a mild way our summer's mountaining.
DEAR MOTHER, — I have an hour or two on my hands, and will begin my next week's letter. I am on the wing again, you see, and set for Switzerland. Yesterday I was at Rheims, one of the most interesting towns of France, where all the old kings used to be crowned, and where a good many of them are buried. Its cathedral is a wonderful thing of the richest and noblest Gothic.
An Embarrassment Of Chβteaux
You will be surprised, dear Margaret, to have a letter from me here instead of from Touraine. We fully intended to go directly from the Dolomites and Venice to Milan and on to Tours, stopping a day or two in Paris en route, but Miss Cassandra begged for a few days on Lake Como, as in all her travels by sea and shore she has never seen the Italian lakes.
An Island Chateau
WE REACHED this enchanting spot by a most circuitous and varied route, which I outline for you, as you may be coming this way some time. From Bellagio we crossed over to Menaggio, on Monday after dιjeuner, where we took an electric tram which brought us to Porlezza in less than an hour. Here we found a boat awaiting us in which we enjoyed a two hours' sail on beautiful Lake Lugano.
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