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I am so sorry that you have been ill. If you had only come with me on the Servia, and not stayed at home to work so hard over your lessons, I do not believe you would have been ill at all. And this morning the long voyage from Ceylon would have been over.
Granada, Under The Walls Of The Alhambra
I am very glad to hear about the new house. I would rather see it this morning than the Alhambra, which is towering up above my windows !
Ever since I received your letter yesterday, I have been trying to realize that it is true that aunt S. and aunt C. are really gone. It seems almost impossible to picture the old house as it must be today. I wish so much that I had been at home, and I hope I shall hear from you some time about the last of those two long, faithful lives.
These three who began their lives so near together, long ago, and who have kept so close to one another all the while, now going almost hand in hand into the other world.
Your last letter gave me such a lively idea of what was going on in New York that Burgos, by contrast, seems a little dull. Nothing goes on in Burgos but the cathedral bells. My breakfast, for which I am waiting, does not seem to go on at all.
Westminster Palace Hotel, London
I left the Brimmers at Biarritz and came over here from Paris last Tuesday. Mr. Brimmer has been the most charming company, and all the party have been very pleasant. I have seen a good many people since I arrived. Everybody is hospitable and kind. This morning I have been preaching for Canon Duckworth at St. Mark's in St. John's Wood.
This past week has been happy in two letters from you. The week before I had none, as I remarked in my letter to Toody of last Sunday. That seems to have been only an accident of the mails, and not to mean any failure of brotherly kindness. For the riches of this week I am sincerely thankful, but it was sad news that your letter brought about the death of Miss Harmon.
Deanery, Wells
No letter from you the past week I suppose there are two upon their way, and I shall get them both in a day or two. Meanwhile, I will not break my habit of a weekly letter, of which I am quite proud, for I have kept it up without a break allthis year. Just think, it was a year next Wednesday that we were all huddled together on the Servia, and saw the last of one another in that tremendous crowd.
Farringford, Freshwater, Isle Of Wight
Here is another place which seems interesting enough to be worthy of a few lines to you. Besides, it is the home of a brother poet of yours, for Tennyson is sleeping somewhere downstairs, and that will interest you. So, as they do not have any breakfast until half past nine, and I am up and dressed at eight, here goes for a little letter.
The Precentory, Lincoln
Is it not pretty hard, when I think I have a beautiful long letter from you, to open it and find nothing except some circulars ? You might at least have written on the back of them. I sent a photograph to G., the other day, which I hope she likes. Yesterday I came down here. Do you remember Lincoln ? The cathedral is very gorgeous, and the old town is quaint.
Westminster Palace Hotel, London
You are forty-nine years old to-morrow ! Are you glad or sorry ? Almost half a century, you see, and the only bother about it is that there is so much less remaining, for life has been very good, and one wishes there were more of it. I wish we were all going to live to be five hundred. But no matter !
Westminster Palace Hotel
I am having a first-rate time, but it is all the pleasanter because it is not going to last forever. The Cephalonia (No. 28 is our room) will sail on the 12th of September. I will tell you what I have been doing this week.
The curtain has fallen and risen again ; the whole scene has changed. London, with all its fun, is far away, and here we are close to the Pyrenees. It is delightfully cool and pleasant, and the view out of my window is wonderfully beautiful. I have time enough to look at it, for I am laid up with a lame leg.
Bagnéres De Luchcn
We have had a splendid Pyrenean week. Great mountains with snowy sides, beautiful rich valleys, wild ravines, quaint villages, a handsome, happy people, and bright skies, — anybody ought to look back with pleasure on a whole week of these. It is not exactly like any other country which I know. Perhaps it is more like some parts of the Tyrol than anything else.
Hôtel De La Paix, Geneva
Yesterday I received your letter of July 23, which gave me the greatest anxiety about poor little G . It is very hard indeed that she should have had a relapse, and lost something of the hard-won ground. I hate to think how she must have suffered this long winter and spring.
I went to church this morning in a little thing which the preacher declared to be the most splendidly situated church in Christendom, and I rather think he was right. Do you remember when we were at Interlaken and went over to Grindelwald, how after it stopped raining we climbed up to the Wengern-Alp and looked the Jungfrau in the face ?
I bought the prettiest thing you ever saw for you the other day. If you were to guess for three weeks, making two guesses every minute, you could not guess what it is. I shall not tell you, because I want you to be all surprised to pieces when you see it, and I am so impatient to give it to you that I can hardly wait.
Tyroler Hof, Innsbruck
We ordered letters sent to Bad Gastein, but when we reached Innsbruck (you remember Innsbruck) we found there was to be today a Passion Play at Brixlegg, a little village only an hour from here, and we determined to stop over. We have spent the whole Sunday there, and it has been a wonderfully interesting day.
When I came away, the first man that wrote me a letter only two days after the Servia had steamed out of New York Bay was you. And now that I am coming home, the last letter which I write from the Old World to any man in America shall be to you. For I want to tell you myself that I shall see you on September 22.
Hotel Baierischer Hof, Munich
This last day of home writing makes me feel queer. I wonder whether it is really true that three weeks from today I am to preach in Trinity. I wonder whether I shall really look so old and thin that people will not know me. I wonder whether those heathen are still chattering and chaffering in the Chandni-Chauk at Delhi.
Steamship Etruria
This letter will show you that I have got safely over to Queenstown. The people are just finishing their breakfasts in the cabin, that is, the lazy ones who have come up late from their state-rooms.I had my breakfast two hours ago, and have been walking up and down the deck since then.
Westminster Palace Hotel, London
Here it is, begun all over again in the old fashion. The old hotel, the same dingy outlook from the windows, and the same chimes from the Abbey bells every quarter of an hour ! We reached here yesterday afternoon at the end of our fourth day on shore. The voyage was very swift, pleasant, and uneventful.
Saturday I went to Oxford and stayed at the Vice-Chancellor's, Dr. Jowett's. Other people were staying there, and it was very bright and pleasant. On Sunday afternoon I preached the university sermon in St. Mary's Church. The service was at two o'clock, an hour when I think nobody ever went to church before.
A happy new year to you, and a great many more of them for years to come. You have had a good time for the last fifty-one years, and I am sure you have helped other people (such as I) to have a great many good times all along.
It is a very lovely morning on the Rhine. I am afraid that it will be hot by and by, when the steamboat comes along and we start to go up the river ; but at present, before breakfast, it is very lovely. There is a pretty village with trees and a church tower just across the river, and the little boats keep coming and going, and the children on the bank...
When I reached here yesterday, I found a group of delightful letters from North Andover, which had the flavor of the old place about them. I think about you now as settled there, with the Jack-o'-lanterns burning on the garden wall.I have left England after a most delightful visit. It was full of interesting occurrences, and I shall look back upon it with the greatest pleasure.
Hotel Danieli, Venice
HOW pretty it must be with you this afternoon ; not half as hot as Venice, I am sure. But every now and then a breeze comes floating from the water, and there are gondolas skimming by, the beautiful St. Giorgio rises opposite out of the sea, and the bells are lazily ringing for two o'clock, which is the time when the pigeons come to be fed in the Piazza of St. Mark.
It is a beautiful warm morning on the lake of Como, so warm that one does not feel like doing anything but sitting still and writing a lazy letter to a dear little girl in America. The water, as I look out of the window, is a delicious blue, and the sweet green hills on the other side of the lake are sound asleep in the sunlight, which they like.
A letter from the Wengern-Alp must go to you, for the view which is before me as I write brings back most vividly the day we climbed from Grindenwald, and sat and looked at the white beauty for an hour before we scrambled down to Lauterbrunnen and went on our way to Thun.
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