October 15, 1882.
MY DEAR GERTlE, — I owe you a letter ; indeed, I am afraid that I owe you more than one, but we won't be very particular about that. You shall write as often as you can, and so will I, and then we will call it square.
You ought to have a great deal more to say than I, because Boston is a great deal livelier place than Wurtzburg, and besides you have lived in Boston all your life, and know lots of people there whom I should like to hear about (including Susie), while I have been here only since yesterday, and know but one person ; and you would not care to hear about him, for he is only a stupid old professor. But you world like to go down the queer old streets and see the funny houses ; and you would have liked to see the big church crowded with people, that I saw this afternoon, and heard them sing as if they would shake all the carved and painted saints down off the walls. I wish that once before I die I could hear the people sing like that in Trinity Church in Boston. But I never shall. It was a great day in the church here today, because it was the thousandth anniversary of the death of the man who built the first church here long before you were born, and so they had a great procession, and went down into the crypt under the church, where he is buried, and sung a Te Deum. I wish you had been there with me.
Then there is a tremendous great palace where the bishops used to live.. . . Nobody lives there now, be-cause bishops are not such great people as they used to be ; but you can go through it all, and see the splendid rooms, and there is the loveliest old garden behind it, with fountains and statues and beautiful old trees, where the people go and walk about on pleasant afternoons, and a band plays. If you and I ever spend an afternoon in Wurtzburg, we will go there.
I wonder if you have been at Trinity to-day, and who preached, and whether you know the text, and whether Sunday-school has begun.
I am on my way from Heidelberg to Berlin. After I have stayed there for a week or two, I shall go to Dresden and Prague and Vienna and Venice, and I have got a ticket to sail in the Poonah from Venice for Bombay on the first day of December. It is not as pretty a name as the Servia, and the ship is only about half as big ; but she is a very good vessel, and I have no doubt she will get out there safely before Christmas. I wish you would come to Venice and see me off, as you did to New York. Goodnight and pleasant dreams. Give my love to everybody and don't forget
Your affectionate uncle PHILLIPS.