^tanbarb Mrarn <£bition 
THE WORKS OF 
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 
ILLUSTRATED WITH STEEL PORTRAITS 
AND PHOTOGRAVURES 
IN THIRTEEN VOLUMES 
VOLUME X Dr. Holmes in 1891 OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN 
EUROPE 
BY 
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 
BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
(Ebe Hfoerpibe IBres^, Omtiribge Copyright, 1887 and 1891, 
By OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
Copyright, 1892, 
By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
All rights reserved. 
The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. 0. Houghton & Company. To 
MY DAUGHTER AMELIA 
(Mrs. TURNER SARGENT) 
MY FAITHFUL AND DEVOTED COMPANION 
THIS OUTLINE OF OUR SUMMER EXCURSION 
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. CONTENTS. 
INTRODUCTORY. 
Page 
A Prospective Visit • . 1 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
Chapter 
I. The Voyage. - Liverpool. - Chester. - London. - 
Epsom 9 
II. Epsom. - London. - Windsor 38 
HI. London. - Isle of Wight. - Cambridge. - Oxford. 
- Y ork. - Edinburgh 65 
IV. Stratford-on-Avon. - Great Malvern. - Tewkes- 
bury. - Bath. - Salisbury. - Stonehenge . . 90 
V. Stonehenge. - Salisbury. - Old Sarum. - Bemer- 
ton. - Brighton 113 
VI. London 135 
VH. Boulogne. - Paris. - London. - Liverpool. - The 
Homeward Passage 161 
VHI. General Impressions. - Miscellaneous Observa- 
tions 182 
General Index 209 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
PAGE 
Oliver Wendell Holmes at the Age of 82. From a 
painting by Sarah W. Whitman .... Frontispiece 
Robert Browning 56 
Magdalen College, Oxford 82 
Salisbury Cathedral 122 
Place de la Concorde 176 INTRODUCTORY. 
A PROSPECTIVE VISIT. 
After an interval of more than fifty years, I propose 
taking a second look at some parts of Europe. It 
is a Rip Van Winkle experiment which I am promis- 
ing myself. The changes wrought by half a century 
in the countries I visited amount almost to a transfor- 
mation. I left the England of William the Fourth, 
of the Duke of Wellington, of Sir Robert Peel; the 
France of Louis Philippe, of Marshal Soult, of Thiers, 
of Guizot. I went from Manchester to Liverpool by 
the new railroad, the only one I saw in Europe. I 
looked upon England from the box of a stage-coach, 
upon France from the coupe of a diligence, upon Italy 
from the cushion of a carrozza. The broken windows 
of Apsley House were still boarded up when I was in 
London. The asphalt pavement was not laid in Paris. 
The Obelisk of Luxor was lying in its great boat in 
the Seine, as I remember it. I did not see it erected; 
it must have been an exciting scene to witness, the 
engineer standing underneath, so as to be crushed by 
the great stone if it disgraced him by falling in the 
process. As for the dynasties which have overlaid 
each other like Dr. Schliemann's Trojan cities, there 
is no need of moralizing over a history which instead 
of Finis is constantly ending with What next? 2 
With regard to the changes in the general condi- 
tions of society and the advance in human knowledge, 
think for one moment what fifty years have done! I 
have often imagined myself escorting some wise man 
of the past to our Saturday Club, where we often have 
distinguished strangers as our guests. Suppose there 
sat by me, I will not say Sir Isaac Newton, for he has 
been too long away from us, but that other great man, 
whom Professor Tyndall names as next to him in in- 
tellectual stature, as he passes along the line of mas- 
ter minds of his country, from the days of Newton to 
our own, - Dr. Thomas Young, who died in 1829. 
Would he or I be the listener, if we were side by 
side? However humble I might feel in such a pres- 
ence, I should be so clad in the grandeur of the new 
discoveries, inventions, ideas, I had to impart to him 
that I should seem to myself like the ambassador of 
an Emperor. I should tell him of the ocean steam- 
ers, the railroads that spread themselves like cobwebs 
over the civilized and half-civilized portions of the 
earth, the telegraph and the telephone, the photograph 
and the spectroscope. I should hand him a paper with 
the morning news from London to read by the electric 
light, I should startle him with a friction match, I 
should amaze him with the incredible truths about 
anaesthesia, I should astonish him with the later con- 
clusions of geology, I should dazzle him by the fully 
developed law of the correlation of forces, I should 
delight him with the cell-doctrine, I should confound 
him with the revolutionary apocalypse of Darwinism. 
All this change in the aspects, position, beliefs, of 
humanity since the time of Dr. Young's death, the 
date of my own graduation from college I 
I ought to consider myself highly favored to have 
INTRODUCTORY. INTRODUCTORY. 
3 
lived through such a half century. But it seems to 
me that in walking the streets of London and Paris I 
shall revert to my student days, and appear to myself 
like a relic of a former generation. Those who have 
been born into the inheritance of the new civilization 
feel very differently about it from those who have 
lived their way into it. To the young and those ap- 
proaching middle age all these innovations in life 
and thought are as natural, as much a matter of 
course, as the air they breathe; they form a part of 
the inner framework of their intelligence, about which 
their mental life is organized. To men and women 
of more than threescore and ten they are external ac- 
cretions, like the shell of a mollusk, the jointed plates 
of an articulate. This must be remembered in read- 
ing anything written by those who knew the century 
in its teens; it is not likely to be forgotten, for the 
fact betrays itself in all the writer's thoughts and 
expressions. 
The story of my first visit to Europe is briefly 
this: my object was to study the medical profession, 
chiefly in Paris, and I was in Europe about two 
years and a half, from April, 1833, to October, 1835. 
I sailed in the packet ship Philadelphia from New 
York for Portsmouth, where we arrived after a pas- 
sage of twenty-four days. A week was spent in vis- 
iting Southampton, Salisbury, Stonehenge, Wilton, 
and the Isle of Wight. I then crossed the Channel 
to Havre, from which I went to Paris. In the spring 
and summer of 1834 I made my principal visit to 
England and Scotland. There were other excursions 
to the Rhine and to Holland, to Switzerland and to 
Italy, but of these I need say nothing here. I re- 
turned in the packet ship Utica, sailing from Havre, 4 
and reaching New York after a passage of forty-two 
days. 
A few notes from my recollections will serve to re- 
call the period of my first visit to Europe, and form a 
natural introduction to the experiences of my second. 
I take those circumstances which happen to suggest 
themselves. 
After a short excursion to Strasbourg, down the 
Rhine, and through Holland, a small steamer took us 
from Rotterdam across the Channel, and we found 
ourselves in the British capital. 
The great sight in London is - London. No man 
understands himself as an infinitesimal until he has 
been a drop in that ocean, a grain of sand on that sea- 
margin, a mote in its sunbeam, or the fog or smoke 
which stands for it; in plainer phrase, a unit among 
its millions. 
I had two letters to persons in England: one to 
kind and worthy Mr. Petty Vaughan, who asked me 
to dinner; one to pleasant Mr. William Clift, con- 
servator of the Hunterian Museum, who asked me 
to tea. 
To Westminster Abbey. What a pity it could not 
borrow from Paris the towers of Notre Dame ! But 
the glory of its interior made up for this shortcoming. 
Among the monuments, one to Rear Admiral Charles 
Holmes, a descendant, perhaps, of another namesake, 
immortalized by Dryden in the "Annus Mirabilis" as 
INTRODUCTORY. 
" the Achates of the general's fight." 
He accompanied Wolfe in his expedition which re- 
sulted in the capture of Quebec. My relative, I will 
take it for granted, as I find him in Westminster 
Abbey. Blood is thicker than water, - and warmer INTRODUCTORY. 
5 
than marble, I said to myself, as I laid my hand on 
the cold stone image of the once famous Admiral. 
To the Tower, to see the lions, - of all sorts. 
There I found a "poor relation," who made my ac- 
quaintance without introduction. A large baboon, or 
ape, - some creature of that family, - was sitting at 
the open door of his cage, when I gave him offence by 
approaching too near and inspecting him too nar- 
rowly. He made a spring at me, and if the keeper 
had not pulled me back would have treated me un- 
handsomely, like a quadrumanous rough, as he was. 
He succeeded in stripping my waistcoat of its buttons, 
as one would strip a pea-pod of its peas. 
To Vauxhall Gardens. All Americans went there 
in those days, as they go to Madame Tussaud's in 
these times. There were fireworks and an exhibition 
of polar scenery. " Mr. Collins, the English PAGANINI," 
treated us to music on his violin. A comic singer 
gave us a song, of which I remember the line, 
" You 'll find it all in the agony bill." 
This referred to a bill proposed by Sir Andrew Ag- 
new, a noted Scotch Sabbatarian agitator. 
To the opera to hear Grisi. The king, William the 
Fourth, was in his box; also the Princess Victoria, 
with the Duchess of Kent. The king tapped with his 
white-gloved hand on the ledge of the box when he 
was pleased with the singing. - To a morning concert 
and heard the real Paganini. To one of the lesser 
theatres and heard a monologue by the elder Mathews, 
who died a year or two after this time. To another 
theatre, where I saw Liston in Paul Pry. Is it not 
a relief that I am abstaining from description of what 
everybody has heard described? 6 
INTRODUCTORY. 
To Windsor. Machinery to the left of the road. 
Recognized it instantly, by recollection of the plate in 
"Rees's Cyclopedia," as Herschel's great telescope. - 
Oxford. Saw only its outside. I knew no one there, 
and no one knew me. -Blenheim, -the Titians best 
remembered of its objects on exhibition. The great 
Derby day of the Epsom races. Went to the race 
with a coach - load of friends and acquaintances. 
Plenipotentiary, the winner, "rode by P. Connelly." 
So says Herring's picture of him, now before me. 
Chestnut, a great "bullock" of a horse, who easily 
beat the twenty-two that started. Every New Eng- 
land deacon ought to see one Derby day to learn what 
sort of a world this is he lives in. Man is a sporting 
as well as a praying animal. 
Stratford-on-Avon. Emotions, but no scribbling 
of name on walls.-Warwick. The castle. A vil- 
lage festival, "The Opening of the Meadows," a true 
exhibition of the semi-barbarism which had come down 
from Saxon times.-Yorkshire. "The Hangman's 
Stone." Story told in my book called the "Auto- 
crat," etc. York Cathedral. - Northumberland. 
Alnwick Castle. The figures on the walls which so 
frightened my man John when he ran away from Scot- 
land in his boyhood. 
Berwick-on-Tweed. A regatta going on; a very 
pretty show. Scotland. Most to be remembered, the 
incomparable loveliness of Edinburgh. - Sterling. 
The view of the Links of Forth from the castle. The 
whole country full of the romance of history and poe- 
try. Made one acquaintance in Scotland, Dr. Robert 
Knox, who asked my companion and myself to break- 
fast. I was treated to five entertainments in Great 
Britain: the breakfast just mentioned; lunch with INTRODUCTORY. 
7 
Mrs. Macadam,-the good old lady gave me bread, 
and not a stone; dinner with Mr. Vanghan; one with 
Mr. Stanley, the surgeon; tea with Mr. Clift, - for 
all which attentions I was then and am still grateful, 
for they were more than I had any claim to expect. 
Fascinated with Edinburgh. Strolls by Salisbury 
Crag; climb to the top of Arthur's Seat; delight of 
looking up at the grand old castle, of looking down on 
Holyrood Palace, of watching the groups on Calton 
Hill, wandering in the quaint old streets and saunter- 
ing on the sidewalks of the noble avenues, even at that 
time adding beauty to the new city. The weeks I 
spent in Edinburgh are among the most memorable of 
my European experiences. To the Highlands, to the 
Lakes, in short excursions; to Glasgow, seen to disad- 
vantage under gray skies and with slippery pavements. 
Through England rapidly to Dover and to Calais, 
where I found the name of M. Dessein still belonging 
to the hotel I sought, and where I read Sterne's 
"Preface Written in a Desobligeante," sitting in the 
vehicle most like one that I could find in the stable. 
From Calais back to Paris, where I began working 
again. 
All my travelling experiences, including a visit to 
Switzerland and Italy in the summer and autumn of 
1835, were merely interludes of my student life in 
Paris. On my return to America, after a few years 
of hospital and private practice, I became a Professor 
in Harvard University, teaching Anatomy and Physi- 
ology, afterwards Anatomy alone, for the period of 
thirty-five years, during part of which time I paid some 
attention to literature, and became somewhat known 
as the author of several works in prose and verse 8 
which have been well received. My prospective visit 
will not be a professional one, as I resigned my office 
in 1882, and am no longer known chiefly as a teacher 
or a practitioner. 
INTRODUCTORY. 
Boston, April, 1886. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
I. 
I begin this record with the columnar, self-reliant 
capital letter to signify that there is no disguise in its 
egoisms. If it were a chapter of autobiography, this 
is what the reader would look for as a matter of 
course. Let him consider it as being such a chapter, 
and its egoisms will require no apology. 
I have called the record our hundred days, because 
I was accompanied by my daughter, without the aid of 
whose younger eyes and livelier memory, and espe- 
cially of her faithful diary, which no fatigue or indis- 
position was allowed to interrupt, the whole experience 
would have remained in my memory as a photograph 
out of focus. 
We left Boston on the 29th of April, 1886, and 
reached New York on the 29th of August, four months 
of absence in all, of which nearly three weeks were 
taken up by the two passages, one week was spent in 
Paris, and the rest of the time in England and Scot- 
land. 
No one was so much surprised as myself at my un- 
dertaking this visit. Mr. Gladstone, a strong man 
for his years, is reported as saying that he is too old 
to travel, at least to cross the ocean, and he is younger 
than I am, - just four months, to a day, younger. It 10 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
is true that Sir Henry Holland came to this country, 
and travelled freely about the world, after he was eighty 
years old; but his pitcher went to the well once too 
often, and met the usual doom of fragile articles. 
When my friends asked me why I did not go to Eu- 
rope, I reminded them of the fate of Thomas Parr. 
He was only twice my age, and was getting on finely 
towards his two hundredth year, when the Earl of 
Arundel carried him up to London, and, being feasted 
and made a lion of, he found there a premature and 
early grave at the age of only one hundred and fifty- 
two years. He lies in Westminster Abbey, it is true, 
but he would probably have preferred the upper side 
of his own hearth-stone to the under side of the slab 
which covers him. 
I should never have thought of such an expedition 
if it had not been suggested by a member of my fam- 
ily that I should accompany my daughter, who was 
meditating a trip to Europe. I remembered how 
many friends had told me I ought to go; among the 
rest, Mr. Emerson, who had spoken to me repeatedly 
about it. I had not seen Europe for more than half 
a century, and I had a certain longing fcr one more 
sight of the places I remembered, and others it would 
be a delight to look upon. There were a few living 
persons whom I wished to meet. I was assured that I 
should be kindly received in England. All this was 
tempting enough, but there was an obstacle in the 
way which I feared, and, as it proved, not without 
good reason. I doubted whether I could possibly 
breathe in a narrow state-room. In certain localities 
I have found myself liable to attacks of asthma, and, 
although I had not had one for years, I felt sure that 
I could not escape it if I tried to sleep in a state-room. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
11 
I did not escape it, and I am glad to tell my story 
about it, because it excuses some of my involuntary 
social shortcomings, and enables me to thank collec- 
tively all those kind members of the profession who 
trained all the artillery of the pharmacopoeia upon my 
troublesome enemy, from bicarbonate of soda and 
Vichy water to arsenic and dynamite. One costly 
contrivance, sent me by the Reverend Mr. Ilaweis, 
whom I have never duly thanked for it, looked more 
like an angelic trump for me to blow in a better 
world than what I believe it is, an inhaling tube in- 
tended to prolong my mortal respiration. The best 
thing in my experience was recommended to me by an 
old friend in London. It was Himrod's asthma cure, 
one of the many powders, the smoke of which when 
burning is inhaled. It is made in Providence, Rhode 
Island, and I had to go to London to find it. It 
never failed to give at least temporary relief, but no- 
thing enabled me to sleep in my state-room, though I 
had it all to myself, the upper berth being removed. 
After the first night and part of the second, I never 
lay down at all while at sea. The captain allowed 
me to have a candle and sit up in the saloon, where 
I worried through the night as I best might. How 
could I be in a fit condition to accept the attention of 
my friends in Liverpool, after sitting up every night 
for more than a week; and how could I be in a mood 
for the catechizing of interviewers, without having 
once lain down during the whole return passage? I 
hope the reader will see why I mention these facts. 
They explain and excuse many things; they have been 
alluded to, sometimes with exaggeration, in the news- 
papers, and I could not tell my story fairly without 
mentioning them. I got along well enough as soon as 12 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
I landed, and have had no return of the trouble since 
I have been back in my own home. I will not adver- 
tise an assortment of asthma remedies for sale, but I 
assure my kind friends I have had no use for any one 
of them since I have walked the Boston pavements, 
drank, not the Cochituate, but the Belmont spring 
water, and breathed the lusty air of my native north- 
easters. 
My companion and I required an attendant, and we 
found one of those useful androgynous personages 
known as courier-maids, who had travelled with 
friends of ours, and who was ready to start with us 
at a moment's warning. She was of English birth, 
lively, short-gaited, serviceable, more especially in 
the first of her dual capacities. So far as my wants 
were concerned, I found her zealous and active in 
providing for my comfort. 
It was no sooner announced in the papers that I was 
going to England than I began to hear of prepara- 
tions to welcome me. An invitation to a club meeting 
was cabled across the Atlantic. One of my country- 
women who has a house in London made an engage- 
ment for me to meet friends at her residence. A rev- 
erend friend, who thought I had certain projects in 
my head, wrote to me about lecturing: where I should 
appear, what fees I should obtain, and such business 
matters. I replied that I was going to England to 
spend money, not to make it; to hear speeches, very 
possibly, but not to make them; to revisit scenes I had 
known in my younger days; to get a little change of 
my routine, which I certainly did; and to enjoy a 
little rest, which I as certainly did not, at least in 
London. In a word, I wished a short vacation, and 
had no thought of doing anything more important than OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
13 
rubbing a little rust off and enjoying myself, while at 
the same time I could make my companion's visit some- 
what pleasanter than it would be if she went without 
me. The visit has answered most of its purposes for 
both of us, and if we have saved a few recollections 
which our friends can take any pleasure in reading- 
this slight record may be considered a work of super- 
erogation. 
The Cephalonia was to sail at half past six in the 
morning, and at that early hour a company of well- 
wishers was gathered on the wharf at East Boston to 
bid us good-by. We took with us many tokens of 
their thoughtful kindness; flowers and fruits from 
Boston and Cambridge, and a basket of champagne 
from a Concord friend whose company is as exhilara- 
ting as the sparkling wine he sent us. With the other 
gifts came a small tin box, about as big as a common 
round wooden match box. I supposed it to hold some 
pretty gimcrack, sent as a pleasant parting token of 
remembrance. It proved to be a most valued daily 
companion, useful at all times, never more so than 
when the winds were blowing hard and the ship was 
struggling with the waves. There must have been 
some magic secret in it, for I am sure that I looked 
five years younger after closing that little box than 
when I opened it. Time will explain its mysterious 
power. 
All the usual provisions for comfort made by sea- 
going experts we had attended to. Impermeable rugs 
and fleecy shawls, head-gear to defy the rudest north- 
easters, sea-chairs of ample dimensions, which we 
took care to place in as sheltered situations as we 
could find, - all these were a matter of course. Every- 14 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
body stays on deck as much as possible, and lies 
wrapped up and spread out at full length on his or her 
sea-chair, so that the deck looks as if it had a row of 
mummies on exhibition. Nothing is more comforta- 
ble, nothing, I should say, more indispensable, than 
a hot-water bag, - or rather, two hot-water bags; for 
they will burst sometimes, as I found out, and a pas- 
senger who has become intimate with one of these 
warm bosom friends feels its loss almost as if it were 
human. 
Passengers carry all sorts of luxuries on board, in 
the firm faith that they shall be able to profit by them 
all. Friends send them various indigestibles. To 
many all these well-meant preparations soon become 
a mockery, almost an insult. It is a clear case of 
Sic(Jc) vos non vobis. The tougher neighbor is the 
gainer by these acts of kindness; the generosity of a 
sea-sick sufferer in giving away the delicacies which 
seemed so desirable on starting is not ranked very 
high on the books of the recording angel. With us 
three things were best: grapes, oranges, and especially 
oysters, of which we had provided a half barrel in the 
shell. The "butcher" of the ship opened them fresh 
for us every day, and they were more acceptable than 
anything else. 
Among our ship's company were a number of family 
relatives and acquaintances. We formed a natural 
group at one of the tables, where we met in more or 
less complete numbers. I myself never missed; my 
companion, rarely. Others were sometimes absent, 
and sometimes came to time when they were in a very 
doubtful state, looking as if they were saying to them- 
selves, with Lear, - OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
15 
" Down, thou climbing sorrow, 
Thy element's below." 
As for the intellectual condition of the passengers, I 
should say that faces were prevailingly vacuous, their 
owners half hypnotized, as it seemed, by the monoto- 
nous throb and tremor of the great sea-monster on 
whose back we were riding. I myself had few 
thoughts, fancies, emotions. One thing above all 
struck me as never before, - the terrible ' solitude of 
the ocean. 
" So lonely't was that God himself 
Scarce seemed there to be." 
Whole days passed without our seeing a single sail. 
The creatures of the deep which gather around sailing 
vessels are perhaps frightened off by the noise and stir 
of the steamship. At any rate, we saw nothing more 
than a few porpoises, so far as I remember. 
No man can find himself over the abysses, the floor 
of which is paved with wrecks and white with the 
bones of the shrieking myriads of human beings 
whom the waves have swallowed up, without some 
thought of the dread possibilities hanging over his 
fate. There is only one way to get rid of them: that 
which an old sea-captain mentioned to me, namely, 
to keep one's self under opiates until he wakes up in 
the harbor where he is bound. I did not take this as 
serious advice, but its meaning is that one who has all 
his senses about him cannot help being anxious. My 
old friend, whose beard had been shaken in many a 
tempest, knew too well that there is cause enough for 
anxiety. 
What does the reader suppose was the source of the 
most ominous thought which forced itself upon my 
mind, as I walked the decks of the mighty vessel? 16 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
Not the sound of the rushing winds, nor the sight of 
the foam-crested billows; not the sense of the awful 
imprisoned force which was wrestling in the depths 
below me. The ship is made to struggle with the ele- 
ments, and the giant has been tamed to obedience, 
and is manacled in bonds which an earthquake would 
hardly rend asunder. No ! It was the sight of the 
boats hanging along at the sides of the deck, - the 
boats, always suggesting the fearful possibility that 
before another day dawns one may be tossing about in 
the watery Sahara, shelterless, fireless, almost food- 
less, with a fate before him he dares not contemplate. 
No doubt we should feel worse without the boats; still 
they are dreadful tell-tales. To all who remember 
Gericault's Wreck of the Medusa,-and those who 
have seen it do not forget it, - the picture the mind 
draws is one it shudders at. To be sure, the poor 
wretches in the painting were on a raft, but to think 
of fifty people in one of these open boats I Let us go 
down into the cabin, where at least we shall not see 
them. 
The first morning at sea revealed the mystery of the 
little round tin box. The process of shaving, never 
a delightful one, is a very unpleasant and awkward 
piece of business when the floor on which one stands, 
the glass in which he looks, and he himself are all de- 
scribing those complex curves which make cycles and 
epicycles seem like simplicity itself. The little box 
contained a reaping machine, which gathered the ca- 
pillary harvest of the past twenty-four hours with a 
thoroughness, a rapidity, a security, and a facility 
which were a surprise, almost a revelation. The idea 
of a guarded cutting edge is an old one; I remember 
the "Plantagenet" razor, so called, with the comb- OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
17 
like row of blunt teeth, leaving just enough of the 
edge free to do its work. But this little affair had a 
blade only an inch and a half long by three quarters 
of an inch wide. It had a long slender handle, which 
took apart for packing, and was put together with the 
greatest ease. It was, in short, a lawn-mower for the 
masculine growth of which the proprietor wishes tc 
rid his countenance. The mowing operation required 
no glass, could be performed with almost reckless bold- 
ness, as one cannot cut himself, and in fact had be- 
come a pleasant amusement instead of an irksome task. 
I have never used any other means of shaving from 
that day to this. I was so pleased with it that I ex- 
hibited it to the distinguished tonsors of Burlington 
Arcade, half afraid they would assassinate me for 
bringing in an innovation which bid fair to destroy 
their business. They probably took me for an agent 
of the manufacturers; and so I was, but not in their 
pay nor with their knowledge. I determined to let 
other persons know what a convenience I had found 
the "Star Razor" of Messrs. Kampf, of New York, 
without fear of reproach for so doing. I know my 
danger, - does not Lord Byron say, " I have even 
been accused of writing puffs for Warren's blacking "? 
I was once offered pay for a poem in praise of a certain 
stove polish, but I declined. It is pure good-will to 
my race which leads me to commend the Star Razor to 
all who travel by land or by sea, as well as to all who 
stay at home. 
With the first sight of land many a passenger draws 
a long sigh of relief. Yet everybody knows that the 
worst dangers begin after we have got near enough to 
see the shore, for there are several ways of landing, 
not all of which are equally desirable. On Saturday, 18 
May 8th, we first caught a glimpse of the Irish coast, 
and at half past four in the afternoon we reached the 
harbor of Queenstown. A tug came off, bringing 
newspapers, letters, and so forth, among the rest some 
thirty letters and telegrams for me. This did not look 
much like rest, but this was only a slight prelude to 
what was to follow. I was in no condition to go on 
shore for sight-seeing, as some of the passengers did. 
We made our way through the fog towards Liver- 
pool, and arrived at 1.30, on Sunday, May 9th. A 
special tug came to take us off: on it were the Amer- 
ican consul, Mr. Russell, the vice-consul, Mr. Sewall, 
Dr. Nevins, and Mr. Rathbone, who came on behalf 
of our as yet unseen friend, Mr. Willett, of Brighton, 
England. Our Liverpool friends were meditating 
more hospitalities to us than, in our fatigued condi- 
tion, we were equal to supporting. They very kindly, 
however, acquiesced in our wishes, which were for as 
much rest as we could possibly get before any attempt 
to busy ourselves with social engagements. So they 
conveyed us to the Grand Hotel for a short time, and 
then saw us safely off to the station to take the train 
for Chester, where we arrived in due season, and soon 
found ourselves comfortably established at the Gros- 
venor Arms Hotel. A large basket of Surrey prim- 
roses was brought by Mr. Rathbone to my companion. 
I had set before me at the hotel a very handsome 
floral harp, which my friend's friend had offered me 
as a tribute. It made melody in my ears as sweet as 
those hyacinths of Shelley's, the music of whose bells 
was so 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
" delicate, soft, and intense, 
It was felt like an odor within the sense." 
At Chester we had the blissful security of being un- OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
19 
known, and were left to ourselves. Americans know 
Chester better than most other old towns in England, 
because they so frequently stop there awhile on their 
way from Liverpool to London. It has a mouldy old 
cathedral, an old wall, partly Roman, strange old 
houses with overhanging upper floors, which make 
sheltered sidewalks and dark basements. When one 
sees an old house in New England with the second 
floor projecting a foot or two beyond the wall of the 
ground floor, the country boy will tell him that "them 
haouses was built so th't th' folks upstairs could shoot 
the In jins when they was try in' to git three w th' door 
or inf th' winder." There are plenty of such houses 
all over England, where there are no "Injins" to 
shoot. But the story adds interest to the somewhat 
lean traditions of our rather dreary past, and it is 
hardly worth while to disturb it. I always heard it 
in my boyhood. Perhaps it is true; certainly it was 
a very convenient arrangement for discouraging an 
untimely visit. The oval lookouts in porches, com- 
mon in our Essex County, have been said to answer a 
similar purpose, that of warning against the intrusion 
of undesirable visitors. The walk round the old wall 
of Chester is wonderfully interesting and beautiful. 
At one part it overlooks a wide level field, over which 
the annual races are run. I noticed that here as else- 
where the short grass was starred with daisies. They 
are not considered in place in a well-kept lawn. But 
remembering the cuckoo song in "Love's Labour 's 
Lost," "When daisies pied ... do paint the meadows 
with delight," it was hard to look at them as unwel- 
come intruders. 
The old cathedral seemed to me particularly mouldy, 
and in fact too high-flavored with antiquity. I could 20 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
not help comparing some of the ancient cathedrals 
and abbey churches to so many old cheeses. They 
have a tough gray rind and a rich interior, which 
find food and lodging for numerous tenants who live 
and die under their shelter or their shadow, - lowly 
servitors some of them, portly dignitaries others, hum* 
ble holy ministers of religion many, I doubt not, -- 
larvae of angels, who will get their wings by and by. 
It is a shame to carry the comparison so far, but it is 
natural enough; for Cheshire cheeses are among the 
first thing's we think of as we enter that section of the 
country, and this venerable cathedral is the first that 
greets the eyes of great numbers of Americans. 
We drove out to Eaton Hall, the seat of the Duke 
of Westminster, the many-millioned lord of a good 
part of London. It is a palace, high-roofed, marble- 
columned, vast, magnificent, everything but homelike, 
and perhaps homelike to persons born and bred in such 
edifices. A painter like Paid Veronese finds a palace 
like this not too grand for his banqueting scenes. 
But to those who live, as most of us do, in houses of 
moderate dimensions, snug, comfortable, which the 
owner's presence fills sufficiently, leaving room for a 
few visitors, a vast marble palace is disheartening and 
uninviting. I never get into a very large and lofty 
saloon without feeling as if I were a weak solution of 
myself, - my personality almost drowned out in the 
flood of space about me. The wigwam is more home- 
like than the cavern. Our wooden houses are a 
better kind of wigwam; the marble palaces are arti- 
ficial caverns, vast, resonant, chilling, good to visit, 
not desirable to live in, for most of us. One's indi- 
viduality should betray itself in all that surrounds 
him; he should secrete his shell, like a mollusk; if he OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
21 
can sprinkle a few pearls through it, so much the bet- 
ter. It is best, perhaps, that one should avoid being 
a duke and living in a palace, - that is, if he has his 
choice in the robing chamber where souls are fitted 
with their earthly garments. 
One of the most interesting parts of my visit tc 
Eaton Hall was my tour through the stables. The 
Duke is a famous breeder and lover of the turf. Mr. 
Rathbone and myself soon made the acquaintance of 
the chief of the stable department. Readers of Homer 
do not want to be reminded that hippodamoio, horse- 
subduer, is the genitive of an epithet applied as a 
chief honor to the most illustrious heroes. It is the 
last word of the last line of the Iliad, and fitly closes 
the account of the funeral pageant of Hector, the 
tamer of horses. We Americans are a little shy of 
confessing that any title or conventional grandeur 
makes an impression upon us. If at home we wince 
before any official with a sense of blighted inferiority, 
it is by general confession the clerk at the hotel office. 
There is an excuse for this, inasmuch as he holds our 
destinies in his hands, and decides whether, in case of 
accident, we shall have to jump from the third or 
sixth story window. Lesser grandeurs do not find us 
very impressible. There is, however, something about 
the man who deals in horses which takes down the 
spirit, however proud, of him who is unskilled in 
equestrian matters and unused to the horse-lover's 
vocabulary. We followed the master of the stables, 
meekly listening and once in a while questioning. I 
had to fall back on my reserves, and summoned up 
memories half a century old to gain the respect and 
win the confidence of the great horse-subduer. He 
showed us various fine animals, some in their stalls, 22 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
some outside of them. Chief of all was the renowned 
Bend Or, a Derby winner, a noble and beautiful bay, 
destined in a few weeks to gain new honors on the 
same turf in the triumph of his offspring Ormonde, 
whose acquaintance we shall make by-and-by. 
The next day, Tuesday, May 11th, at 4.25, we took 
the train for London. We had a saloon car, which 
had been thoughtfully secured for us through unseen, 
not unsuspected, agencies, which had also beautified 
the compartment with flowers. 
Here are some of my first impressions of England 
as seen from the carriage and from the cars. - How 
very English! I recall Birket Foster's Pictures of 
English Landscape, - a beautiful, poetical series of 
views, but hardly more poetical than the reality. 
How thoroughly England is groomed! Our New 
England out-of-doors landscape often looks as if it had 
just got out of bed, and had not finished its toilet. 
The glowing green of everything strikes me: green 
hedges in place of our rail-fences, always ugly, and 
our rude stone-walls, which are not wanting in a cer- 
tain look of fitness approaching to comeliness, and are 
really picturesque when lichen-coated, but poor fea- 
tures of landscape as compared to these universal 
hedges. I am disappointed in the trees, so far; I 
have not seen one large tree as yet. Most of those I 
see are of very moderate dimensions, feathered all the 
way up their long slender trunks, with a lop-sided 
mop of leaves at the top, like a wig which has slipped 
awry. I trust that I am not finding everything 
couleur de rose ; but I certainly do find the cheeks of 
children and young persons of such brilliant rosy hue 
as I do not remember that I have ever seen before. I 
am almost ready to think this and that child's face 23 
has been colored from a pink saucer. If the Saxon 
youth exposed for sale at Rome, in the days of Pope 
Gregory the Great, had complexions like these chil- 
dren, no wonder that the pontiff exclaimed, Not 
Anglic but angeli! All this may sound a little ex- 
travagant, but I am giving my impressions without 
any intentional exaggeration. How far these first 
impressions may be modified by after-experiences 
there will be time enough to find out and to tell. It 
is better to set them down at once just as they are. 
A first impression is one never to be repeated; the 
second look will see much that was not noticed before, 
but it will not reproduce the sharp lines of the first 
proof, which is always interesting, no matter what the 
eye or the mind fixes upon. "I see men as trees 
walking." That first experience could not be mended. 
When Dickens landed in Boston, he was struck with 
the brightness of all the objects he saw, -buildings, 
signs, and so forth. When I landed in Liverpool, 
everything looked very dark, very dingy, very mas- 
sive, in the streets I drove through. So in London, 
but in a week it all seemed natural enough. 
We got to the hotel where we had engaged quar- 
ters, at eleven o'clock in the evening of Wednesday, 
the 12th of May. Everything was ready for us, - 
a bright fire blazing and supper waiting. When we 
came to look at the accommodations, we found they 
were not at all adapted to our needs. It was impossi- 
ble to stay there another night. So early the next 
morning we sent out our courier-maid, a dove from 
the ark, to find us a place where we could rest the 
soles of our feet. London is a nation of something 
like four millions of inhabitants, and one does not feel 
easy without he has an assured place of shelter. The 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 24 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
dove flew all over the habitable districts of the city, 
- inquired at as many as twenty houses. No roost- 
ing-place for our little flock of three. At last the 
good angel who followed us everywhere, in one shape 
or another, pointed the wanderer to a place which cor- 
responded with all our requirements and wishes. This 
was at No. 17 Dover Street, Mackellar's Hotel, where 
we found ourselves comfortably lodged and well cared 
for during the whole time we were in London. It 
was close to Piccadilly and to Bond Street. Near 
us, in the same range, were Brown's Hotel and Batt's 
Hotel, both widely known to the temporary residents 
of London. 
We were but partially recovered from the fatigues 
and trials of the voyage when our arrival pulled the 
string of the social shower-bath, and the invitations 
began pouring down upon us so fast that we caught 
our breath, and felt as if we should be smothered. 
The first evening saw us at a great dinner-party 
at our well-remembered friend Lady Harcourt's. 
Twenty guests, celebrities and agreeable persons, with 
or without titles. The tables were radiant with silver, 
glistening with choice porcelain, blazing with a grand 
show of tulips. This was our "baptism of fire" in 
that long conflict which lasts through the London 
season. After dinner came a grand reception, most 
interesting, but fatiguing to persons hardly as yet in 
good condition for social service. We lived through 
it, however, and enjoyed meeting so many friends, 
known and unknown, who were very cordial and pleas- 
ant in their way of receiving us. 
It was plain that we could not pretend to answer all 
the invitations which flooded our tables. If we had at- 
tempted it, we should have found no time for anything OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
25 
else. A secretary was evidently a matter of immedi- 
ate necessity. Through the kindness of Mrs. Pollock, 
we found a young lady who was exactly fitted for the 
place. She was installed in the little room intended 
for her, and began the work of accepting with pleas- 
ure and regretting our inability, of acknowledging the 
receipt of books, flowers, and other objects, and being 
very sorry that we could not subscribe to this good 
object and attend that meeting in behalf of a deserv- 
ing charity, - in short, writing almost everything for 
us except autographs, which I can warrant were always 
genuine. The poor young lady was almost tired out 
sometimes, having to stay at her table, on one occa- 
sion, so late as eleven in the evening, to get through 
her day's work. I simplified matters for her by 
giving her a set of formulae as a base to start from, 
and she proved very apt at the task of modifying each 
particular letter to suit its purpose. 
From this time forward continued a perpetual round 
of social engagements. Breakfasts, luncheons, din- 
ners, teas, receptions with spread tables, two, three, 
and four deep of an evening, with receiving company 
at our own rooms, took up the day, so that we had 
very little time for common sight-seeing. 
Of these kinds of entertainments, the breakfast, 
though pleasant enough when the company is agree- 
able, as I always found it, is the least convenient of 
all times and modes of visiting. You have already 
interviewed one breakfast, and are expecting soon to 
be coquetting with a tempting luncheon. If one had 
as many stomachs as a ruminant, he would not mind 
three or four serious meals a day, not counting the 
tea as one of them. The luncheon is a very conven- 
ient affair: it does not require special dress; it is 26 
informal; it is soon over, and may be made light or 
heavy, as one chooses. The afternoon tea is almost a 
necessity in London life. It is considered useful as 
"a pick me up," and it serves an admirable purpose 
in the social system. It costs the household hardly 
any trouble or expense. It brings people together in 
the easiest possible way, for ten minutes or an hour, 
just as their engagements or fancies may settle it. 
A cup of tea at the right moment does for the virtuous 
reveller all that Falstaff claims for a good sherris- 
sack, or at least the first half of its "twofold opera- 
tion: " "It ascends me into the brain; dries me there 
all the foolish and dull and crudy vapors which en- 
viron it; makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full 
of nimble, fiery and delectable shapes, which delivered 
over to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, be- 
comes excellent wit." 
But it must have the right brain to work upon, and 
I doubt if there is any brain to which it is so congenial 
and from which it brings so much as that of a first- 
rate London old lady. I came away from the great 
city with the feeling that this most complex product 
of civilization was nowhere else developed to such 
perfection. The octogenarian Londoness has been in 
society, - let us say the highest society, - all her 
days. She is as tough as an old macaw, or she would 
not have lasted so long. She has seen and talked 
with all the celebrities of three generations, all the 
beauties of at least half a dozen decades. Her wits 
have been kept bright by constant use, and as she is 
free of speech it requires some courage to face her. 
Yet nobody can be more agreeable, even to young 
persons, than one of these precious old dowagers. A 
great beauty is almost certainly thinking how she looks 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
27 
while one is talking with her; an authoress is waiting 
to have one praise her book; but a grand old lady, 
who loves London society, who lives in it, who under- 
stands young people and all sorts of people, with her 
high-colored recollections of the past and her grand- 
maternal interests in the new generation, is the best 
of companions, especially over a cup of tea just strong 
enough to stir up her talking ganglions. 
A breakfast, a lunch, a tea, is a circumstance, an 
occurrence, in social life, but a dinner is an event. 
It is the full-blown flower of that cultivated growth 
of which those lesser products are the buds. I will 
not try to enumerate, still less to describe, the vari- 
ous entertainments to which we were invited, and 
many of which we attended. Among the professional 
friends I found or made during this visit to London, 
none were more kindly attentive than Dr. Priestley, 
who, with his charming wife, the daughter of the late 
Robert Chambers, took more pains to carry out our 
wishes than we could have asked or hoped for. At his 
house I first met Sir James Paget and Sir William 
Gull, long well known to me, as to the medical pro- 
fession everywhere, as preeminent in their several de- 
partments. If I were an interviewer or a newspaper 
reporter, I should be tempted to give the impression 
which the men and women of distinction I met made 
upon me; but where all were cordial, where all made 
me feel as nearly as they could that I belonged where 
I found myself, whether the ceiling were a low or a 
lofty one, I do not care to differentiate my hosts and 
my other friends. Fortemque Gyan fortemque, Cloan- 
thum, - I left my microscope and my test-papers at 
home. 
Our friends, several of them, had a pleasant way of 28 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
sending their carriages to give us a drive in the Park, 
where, except in certain permitted regions, the com- 
mon numbered vehicles are not allowed to enter. 
Lady Harcourt sent her carriage for us to go to her 
sister's, Mrs. Mildmay's, where we had a pleasant lit- 
tle "tea," and met one of the most agreeable and re- 
markable of those London old ladies I have spoken of. 
For special occasions we hired an unnumbered carriage, 
with professionally equipped driver and footman. 
Mrs. Bloomfield Moore sent her carriage for us to 
take us to a lunch at her house, where we met Mr. 
Browning, Sir Henry and Lady Layard, Oscar Wilde 
and his handsome wife, and other well-known guests. 
After lunch, recitations, songs, etc. House full of 
pretty things. Among other curiosities a portfolio 
of drawings illustrating Keeley's motor, which, up to 
this time, has manifested a remarkably powerful vis 
inertice, but which promises miracles. In the evening 
a grand reception at Lady Granville's, beginning 
(for us, at least) at eleven o'clock. The house a pal- 
ace, and A thinks there were a thousand people 
there. We made the tour of the rooms, saw many 
great personages, had to wait for our carriage a long 
time, but got home at one o'clock. 
English people have queer notions about iced-water 
and ice-cream. "You will surely die, eating such 
cold stuff," said a lady to my companion. "Oh, no," 
she answered, "but I should certainly die were I to 
drink your two cups of strong tea." I approved of 
this "counter" on the teacup, but I did not think 
either of them was in much danger. 
The next day Rev. Mr. Haweis sent his carriage, 
and we drove in the Park. In the afternoon we went 
to our Minister's to see the American ladies who had OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
29 
been presented at the drawing-room. After this, both 
of us were glad to pass a day or two in comparative 
quiet, except that we had a room full of visitors. So 
many persons expressed a desire to make our ac- 
quaintance that we thought it would be acceptable 
to them if we would give a reception ourselves. We 
were thinking how we could manage it with our rooms 
at the hotel, which were not arranged so that they 
could be thrown together. Still, we were planning to 
make the best of them, when Dr. and Mrs. Priestley 
suggested that we should receive our company at their 
house. This was a surprise, and a most welcome one, 
and A and her kind friend busied themselves at 
once about the arrangements. 
We went to a luncheon at Lansdowne House, Lord 
Rosebery's residence, not far from our hotel. My 
companion tells a little incident which may please an 
American six-year-old: " The eldest of the four chil- 
dren, Sibyl, a pretty, bright child of six, told me that 
she wrote a letter to the Queen. I said, 'Did you 
begin, Dear Queen? ' 'No,' she answered, 'I began, 
Your Majesty, and signed myself, Your little humble 
servant, Sibyl.'" A very cordial and homelike re- 
ception at this great house, where a couple of hours 
were passed most agreeably. 
On the following Sunday I went to Westminster 
Abbey to hear a sermon from Canon Harford on A 
Cheerful Life. A lively, wholesome, and encourag- 
ing discourse, such as it would do many a forlorn New 
England congregation good to hear. In the afternoon 
we both went together to the Abbey. Met our Bev- 
erly neighbor, Mrs. Vaughan, and adopted her as one 
of our party. The seats we were to have were full, 
and we had to be stowed where there was any place 30 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
that would hold us. I was smuggled into a stall, 
going through long and narrow passages, between 
crowded rows of people, and found myself at last with 
a big book before me and a set of official personages 
around me, whose duties I did not clearly understand. 
I thought they might be mutes, or something of that 
sort, salaried to look grave and keep quiet. After 
service we took tea with Dean Bradley, and after tea 
we visited the Jerusalem Chamber. I had been twice 
invited to weddings in that famous room: once to the 
marriage of my friend Motley's daughter, then to 
that of Mr. Frederick Locker's daughter to Lionel 
Tennyson, whose recent death has been so deeply 
mourned. I never expected to see that Jerusalem in 
which Harry the Fourth died, but there I found my- 
self in the large panelled chamber, with all its asso- 
ciations. The older memories came up but vaguely; 
an American finds it as hard to call back anything 
over two or three centuries old as a sucking-pump to 
draw up water from a depth of over thirty-three feet 
and a fraction. After this A went to a musical 
party, dined with the Vaughans, and had a good time 
among American friends. 
The next evening we went to the Lyceum Theatre 
to see Mr. Irving. He had placed the Royal box at 
our disposal, so we invited our friends the Priestleys 
to go with us, and we all enjoyed the evening might- 
ily. Between the scenes we went behind the curtain, 
and saw the very curious and admirable machinery of 
the dramatic spectacle. We made the acquaintance 
of several imps and demons, who were got up won- 
derfully well. Ellen Terry was as fascinating as ever. 
I remembered that once before I had met her and Mr. 
Irving behind the scenes. It was at the Boston The- OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
31 
atre, and while I was talking with them a very heavy 
piece of scenery came crashing down, and filled the 
whole place with dust. It was but a short distance 
from where we were standing, and I could not help 
thinking how near our several life-dramas came to a 
simultaneous exeunt omnes. 
A long visit from a polite interviewer, shopping, 
driving, calling, arranging about the people to be in- 
vited to our reception, and an agreeable dinner at 
Chelsea with my American friend, Mrs. Merritt, filled 
up this day full enough, and left us in good condition 
for the next, which was to be a very busy one. 
In the Introduction to these papers, I mentioned the 
fact that more than half a century ago I went to the 
famous Derby race at Epsom. I determined, if pos- 
sible, to see the Derby of 1886, as I had seen that of 
1834. I must have spoken of this intention to some 
interviewer, for I find the following paragraph in an 
English sporting newspaper, "The Field," for May 
29th, 1886: - 
"The Derby has always been the one event in the 
racing year which statesmen, philosophers, poets, es- 
sayists, and litterateurs desire to see once in their 
lives. A few years since Mr. Gladstone was induced 
by Lord Granville and Lord Wolverton to run down 
to Epsom on the Derby day. The impression pro- 
duced upon the Prime Minister's sensitive and emo- 
tional mind was that the mirth and hilarity displayed 
by his compatriots upon Epsom race-course was Ital- 
ian rather than English in its character. On the 
other hand, Gustave Dore, who also saw the Derby for 
the first and only time in his life, exclaimed, as he 
gazed with horror upon the faces below him, Quelle 
scene brutale ! We wonder to which of these two im- 32 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
pressions Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes inclined, if he 
went last Wednesday to Epsom! Probably the well- 
known, etc., etc. -Of one thing Dr. Holmes may rest 
finally satisfied: the Derby of 1886 may possibly have 
seemed to him far less exciting than that of 1834; but 
neither in 1834 nor in any other year was the great 
race ever won by a better sportsman or more honorable 
man than the Duke of Westminster." 
My desire to see the Derby of this year was of the 
same origin and character as that which led me to re- 
visit many scenes which I remembered. I cared quite 
as much about renewing old impressions as about 
getting new ones. I enjoyed everything which I had 
once seen all the more from the blending of my recol- 
lections with the present as it was before me. 
The Derby day of 1834 was exceedingly windy and 
dusty. Our party, riding on the outside of the coach, 
was half smothered with the dust, and arrived in a 
very deteriorated condition, but recompensed for it by 
the extraordinary sights we had witnessed. There was 
no train in those days, and the whole road between 
London and Epsom was choked with vehicles of all 
kinds, from four-in-hands to donkey-carts and wheel- 
barrows. My friends and I mingled freely in the 
crowds, and saw all the "humours" of the occasion. 
The thimble-riggers were out in great force, with their 
light, movable tables, the cups or thimbles, and the 
"little jokers," and the coachman, the sham gentle- 
man, the country greenhorn, all properly got up and 
gathered about the table. I think we had "Aunt 
Sally," too,-the figure with a pipe in her mouth, 
which one might shy a stick at for a penny or two 
and win something, I forget what. The clearing the 
course of stragglers, and the chasing about of the OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
33 
frightened little dog who had got in between the thick 
ranks of spectators, reminded me of what I used to 
see on old "artillery election" days. 
It was no common race that I went to see in 1834. 
"It is asserted in the columns of a contemporary that 
Plenipotentiary was absolutely the best horse of the 
century." This was the winner of the race I saw so 
long ago. Herring's colored portrait, which I have 
always kept, shows him as a great, powerful chestnut 
horse, well deserving the name of "bullock," which 
one of the jockeys applied to him. "Rumor credits 
Dr. Holmes," so "The Field" says, "with desiring 
mentally to compare his two Derbies with each other." 
I was most fortunate in my objects of comparison. 
The horse I was about to see win was not unworthy 
of being named with the renowned champion of my 
earlier day. I quote from a writer in the "London 
Morning Post," whose words, it will be seen, carry 
authority with them: - 
" Deep as has hitherto been my reverence for Pleni- 
potentiary, Bay Middleton, and Queen of Trumps 
from hearsay, and for Don John, Crucifix, etc., etc., 
from my own personal knowledge, I am inclined to 
award the palm to Ormonde as the best three-year-old 
I have ever seen during close upon half a century's 
connection with the turf." 
Ormonde, the Duke of Westminster's horse, was 
the son of that other winner of the Derby, Bend Or, 
whom I saw at Eaton Hall. 
Perhaps some coeval of mine may think it was a 
rather youthful idea to go to the race. I cannot help 
that. I was off on my first long vacation for half a 
century, and had a right to my whims and fancies. 
But it was one thing to go in with a vast crowd at five 34 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
and twenty, and another thing to run the risks of the 
excursion at more than thrice that age. I looked 
about me for means of going safely, and could think 
of nothing better than to ask one of the pleasantest 
and kindest of gentlemen, to whom I had a letter from 
Mr. Winthrop, at whose house I had had the pleasure 
of making his acquaintance. Lord Rosebery sug- 
gested that the best way woidd be for me to go in the 
special train which was to carry the Prince of Wales. 
First, then, I was to be introduced to his Royal High- 
ness, which office was kindly undertaken by our very 
obliging and courteous Minister, Mr. Phelps. After 
this all was easily arranged, and I was cared for as 
well as if I had been Mr. Phelps himself. On the 
grand stand I found myself in the midst of the great 
people, who were all very natural, and as much at 
their ease as the rest of the world. The Prince is of 
a lively temperament and a very cheerful aspect, - 
a young girl would call him "jolly" as well as "nice." 
I recall the story of "Mr. Pope" and his Prince of 
Wales, as told by Horace Walpole. "Mr. Pope, 
you don't love princes." "Sir, I beg your pardon." 
"Well, you don't love kings, then." "Sir, I own 
I love the lion best before his claws are grown." 
Certainly, nothing in Prince Albert Edward suggests 
any aggressive weapons or tendencies. The lovely, 
youthful-looking, gracious Alexandra, the always af- 
fable and amiable Princess Louise, the tall youth who 
sees the crown and sceptre afar off in his dreams, the 
slips of girls so like many school misses we left behind 
us, - all these grand personages, not being on exhibi- 
tion, but off enjoying themselves, just as I was and as 
other people were, seemed very much like their fellow- 
mortals. It is really easier to feel at home with the OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
35 
highest people in the land than with the awkward 
commoner who was knighted yesterday. When "My 
Lord and Sir Paul" came into the Club which Gold- 
smith tells us of, the hilarity of the evening was in- 
stantly checked. The entrance of a dignitary like the 
present Prince of Wales would not have spoiled the 
fun of the evening. If there is any one accomplish- 
ment specially belonging to princes, it is that of mak- 
ing the persons they meet feel at ease. 
The grand stand to which I was admitted was a 
little privileged republic. I remember Thackeray's 
story of his asking some simple question of a royal or 
semi-royal personage whom he met in the courtyard of 
an hotel, which question his Highness did not answer, 
but called a subordinate to answer for him. I had 
been talking some time with a tall, good-looking gen- 
tleman, whom I took for a nobleman to whom I had 
been introduced. Something led me to think I was 
mistaken in the identity of this gentleman. I asked 
him, at last, if he were not So and So. "No," he 
said, "I am Prince Christian." You are a Christian 
prince, anyhow, I said to myself, if I may judge by 
your manners. 
I once made a similar mistake in addressing a 
young fellow-citizen of some social pretensions. I 
apologized for my error. 
"No offence," he answered. 
Offence indeed! I should hope not. But he had 
not the "maniere de prince" or he would never have 
used that word. 
I must say something about the race I had taken 
so much pains to see. There was a preliminary race, 
which excited comparatively little interest. After 
this the horses were shown in the paddock, and many 36 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
of our privileged party went down from the stand to 
look at them. Then they were brought out, smooth, 
shining, fine-drawn, frisky, spirit-stirring to look 
upon, - most beautiful of all the bay horse Ormonde, 
who could hardly be restrained, such was his eagerness 
for action. The horses disappear in the distance. - 
They are off, - not yet distinguishable, at least to 
me. A little waiting time, and they swim into our 
ken, but in what order of precedence it is as yet not 
easy to say. Here they come! Two horses have 
emerged from the ruck, and are sweeping, rushing, 
storming, towards us, almost side by side. One 
slides by the other, half a length, a length, a length 
and a half. Those are Archer's colors, and the 
beautiful bay Ormonde flashes by the line, winner of 
the Derby of 1886. "The Bard''has made a good 
fight for the first place, and comes in second. Poor 
Archer, the king of the jockeys ! He will bestride no 
more Derby winners. A few weeks later he died by 
his own hand. 
While the race was going on, the yells of the bet- 
ting crowd beneath us were incessant. It must have 
been the frantic cries and movements of these people 
that caused Gustave Dore to characterize it as a brutal 
scene. The vast mob which thronged the wide space 
beyond the shouting circle just round us was much 
like that of any other fair, so far as I could see from 
my royal perch. The most conspicuous object was a 
man on an immensely tall pair of stilts, stalking about 
among the crowd. I think it probable that I had as 
much enjoyment in forming one of the great mob in 
1834 as I had among the grandeurs in 1886, but the 
last is pleasanter to remember and especially to tell of. 
After the race we had a luncheon served us, a com- OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
37 
fortable and substantial one, which was very far from 
unwelcome. I did not go to the Derby to bet on the 
winner. But as I went in to luncheon, I passed a 
gentleman standing in custody of a plate half covered 
with sovereigns. He politely asked me if I would 
take a little paper from a heap there was lying by the 
plate, and add a sovereign to the collection already 
there. I did so, and, unfolding my paper, found it 
was a blank, and passed on. The pool, as I after- 
wards learned, fell to the lot of the Turkish Ambassa- 
dor. I found it very windy and uncomfortable on the 
more exposed parts of the grand stand, and was glad 
that I had taken a shawl with me, in which I wrapped 
myself as if I had been on shipboard. This, I told 
my English friends, was the more civilized form of 
the Indian's blanket. My report of the weather does 
not say much for the English May, but it is generally 
agreed upon that this is a backward and unpleasant 
spring. 
After my return from the race we went to a large 
dinner at Mr. Phelps's house, where we met Mr. 
Browning again, and the Lord Chancellor Herschell, 
among others. Then to Mrs. Cyril Flower's, one of 
the most sumptuous houses in London; and after that 
to Lady Rothschild's, another of the private palaces, 
with ceilings lofty as firmaments, and walls that might 
have been copied from the New Jerusalem. There 
was still another great and splendid reception at Lady 
Dalhousie's, and a party at Mrs. Smith's, but we 
were both tired enough to be willing to go home after 
what maybe called a pretty good day's work at enjoy- 
ing ourselves. 
We had been a fortnight in London, and were now 
inextricably entangled in the meshes of the golden 
web of London social life. 38 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
II. 
The reader who glances over these papers, and, 
finding them too full of small details and the lesser 
personal matters which belong naturally to private 
correspondences, turns impatiently from them, has my 
entire sympathy and good-will. He is not one of 
those for whom these pages are meant. Having no 
particular interest in the writer or his affairs, he does 
not care for the history of "the migrations from the 
blue bed to the brown " and the many Mistress Quick- 
lyisms of circumstantial narrative. Yet all this may 
be pleasant reading to relatives and friends. 
But I must not forget that a new generation of 
readers has come into being since I have been writing 
for the public, and that a new generation of aspiring 
and brilliant authors has grown into general recog- 
nition. The dome of Boston State House, which is 
the centre of my little universe, was glittering in its 
fresh golden pellicle before I had reached the scrip- 
tural boundary of life. It has lost its lustre now, and 
the years which have dulled its surface have whitened 
the dome of that fragile structure in which my con- 
sciousness holds the session of its facidties. Time is 
not to be cheated. It is easy to talk of perennial 
youth, and to toy with the flattering fictions which 
every ancient personage accepts as true so far as he 
himself is concerned, and laughs at as foolish talk 
when he hears them applied to others. When, in my 
exulting immaturity, I wrote the lines not unknown 
to the reading public under the name of "The Last 
Leaf," I spoke of the possibility that I myself might 
linger on the old bough until the buds and blossoms OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
39 
of a new spring were opening and spreading all around 
me. I am not as yet the solitary survivor of my lit- 
erary contemporaries, and, remembering who my few 
coevals are, it may well be hoped that I shall not be. 
But I feel lonely, very lonely, in the pages through 
which I wander. These are new names in the midst 
of which I find my own. In another sense I am very 
far from alone. I have daily assurances that I have 
a constituency of known and unknown personal 
friends, whose indulgence I have no need of asking. 
I know there are readers enough who will be pleased 
to follow me in my brief excursion, because I am my- 
self, and will demand no better reason. If I choose 
to write for them, I do no injury to those for whom 
my personality is an object of indifference. They will 
.find on every shelf some publications which are not 
intended for them, and which they prefer to let alone. 
No person is expected to help himself to everything 
set before him at a public table. I will not, there- 
fore, hesitate to go on with the simple story of our 
Old World experiences. 
Thanks to my Indian blanket, - my shawl, I mean, 
- I found myself nothing the worse for my mani- 
fold adventures of the 27th of May. The cold wind 
sweeping over Epsom downs reminded me of our own 
chilling easterly breezes; especially the northeasterly 
ones, which are to me less disagreeable than the 
southeasterly. But the poetical illusion about an 
English May, - 
" Zephyr with Aurora playing, 
As he met her once a-Maying," - 
and all that, received a shrewd thrust. Zephyr 
ought to have come in an ulster, and offered Aurora 
a warm petticoat. However, in spite of all difficul- 40 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
ties, I brought off my recollections of the Derby of 
1886 in triumph, and am now waiting for the colored 
portrait of Ormonde with Archer on his back, - 
Archer, the winner of five Derby races, one of which 
was won by the American horse Iroquois. When 
that picture, which I am daily expecting, arrives, I 
shall have it framed and hung by the side of Her- 
ring's picture of Plenipotentiary, the horse I saw win 
the Derby in 1834. These two, with an old portrait 
of the great Eclipse, who, as my engraving of 1780 
(Stubbs's) says, "was never beat, or ever had occa- 
tion for Whip or Spur," will constitute my entire 
sporting gallery. I have not that vicious and demor- 
alizing love of horse-flesh which makes it next to im- 
possible to find a perfectly honest hippophile. But a 
racer is the realization of an ideal quadruped, - 
A pard-like spirit, beautiful and swift ; " 
so ethereal, so bird-like, that it is no wonder that the 
horse about whom those old story-tellers lied so stoutly, 
- telling of his running a mile in a minute, - was 
called Flying Childers. 
The roses in Mrs. Pfeiffer's garden were hardly out 
of flower when I lunched with her at her pretty villa 
at Putney. There I met Mr. Browning, Mr. Hol- 
man limit, Mrs. Ritchie, Miss Anna Swanwick, the 
translator of Aeschylus, and other good company, 
besides that of my entertainer. 
One of my very agreeable experiences was a call 
from a gentleman with whom I had corresponded, but 
whom I had never met. This was Mr. John Bellows, 
of Gloucester, publisher, printer, man of letters, or 
rather of words; for he is the author of that truly 
remarkable little manual, "The Bona Fide Pocket OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
41 
Dictionary of the French and English Languages." 
To the review of this little book, which is dedicated 
to Prince Lucien Bonaparte, the "London Tunes" 
devoted a full column. I never heard any one who 
had used it speak of it except with admiration. The 
modest Friend may be surprised to find himself at 
full length in my pages, but those who know the little 
miracle of typography, its conciseness, completeness, 
arrangement, will not wonder that I was gratified to 
see the author, who sent it to me, and who has written 
me most interesting letters on the local antiquities of 
Gloucester and its neighborhood. 
We lunched that day at Lady Camperdown's, where 
we were happy to meet Miss Frances Power Cobbe. 
In the afternoon we went by invitation to a "tea and 
talk " at the Reverend Mr. Haweis's, at Chelsea. We 
found the house close packed, but managed to get 
through the rooms, shaking innumerable hands of the 
reverend gentleman's parishioners and other visitors. 
It was very well arranged, so as not to be too fatigu- 
ing, and we left the cordial gathering in good condi- 
tion. We drove home with Bishop and Mrs. Elli- 
cott. 
After this Sir James Paget called, and took me to 
a small and early dinner-party; and A went with 
my secretary, the young lady of whom I have spoken, 
to see "Human Nature," at Drury Lane Theatre. 
On the following day, after dining with Lady Hol- 
land (wife of Sir Henry, niece of Macaulay), we went 
across the street to our neighbor's, Lady Stanley's. 
There was to be a great meeting of schoolmistresses, 
in whose work her son, the Honorable Lyulph Stan- 
ley, is deeply interested. Alas! The schoolma'ams 
were just leaving as we entered the door, and all we 42 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
saw of them was the trail of their descending robes. 
I was very sorry for this, for I have a good many 
friends among our own schoolmistresses, - friends 
whom I never saw, but know through the kind words 
they have addressed to me. 
No place in London looks more reserved and exclu- 
sive than Devonshire House, standing back behind its 
high wall, extending along Piccadilly. There is cer- 
tainly nothing in its exterior which invites intrusion. 
We had the pleasure of taking tea in the great house, 
accompanying our American friend, Lady Harcourt, 
and were graciously received and entertained by Lady 
Edward Cavendish. Like the other great houses, it 
is a museum of paintings, statues, objects of interest 
of all sorts. It must be confessed that it is pleasanter 
to go through the rooms with one of the ladies of the 
household than under the lead of a liveried servant. 
Lord Hartington came in while we were there. All 
the men who are distinguished in political life become 
so familiar to the readers of "Punch" in their carica- 
tures, that we know them at sight. Even those who 
can claim no such public distinction are occasionally 
the subjects of the caricaturist, as some of us have 
found out for ourselves. A good caricature, which 
seizes the prominent features and gives them the char- 
acter Nature hinted, but did not fully carry out, is a 
work of genius. Nature herself is a remorseless car- 
icaturist, as our daily intercourse with our fellow men 
and women makes evident to us, and as is curiously 
illustrated in the figures of Charles Lebrun, showing 
the relations between certain human faces and those 
of various animals. Hardly an English statesman iu 
bodily presence could be mistaken by any of " Punch's " 
readers. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
43 
On the same day that we made this quiet visit we 
attended a great and ceremonious assembly. There 
were two parts in the programme, in the first of which 
I was on the stage solus, - that is, without my com- 
panion ; in the second we were together. This day, 
Saturday, the 29th of May, was observed as the 
Queen's birthday, although she was born on the 24th. 
Sir William Harcourt gave a great dinner to the offi- 
cials of his department, and later in the evening Lady 
Rosebery held a reception at the Foreign Office. On 
both these occasions everybody is expected to be in 
court dress, but my host told me I might present my- 
self in ordinary evening dress. I thought that I might 
feel awkwardly among so many guests, all in the wed- 
ding garments, knee-breeches and the rest, without 
which I ventured among them. I never passed an 
easier evening in any company than among these offi- 
cial personages. Sir William took me under the 
shield of his ample presence, and answered all my 
questions about the various notable personages at his 
table in a way to have made my fortune if I had been 
a reporter. From the dinner I went to Mrs. Glad- 
stone's, at 10 Downing Street, where A called 
for me. She had found a very small and distin- 
guished company there, Prince Albert Victor among 
the rest. At half past eleven we walked over to the 
Foreign Office to Lady Rosebery's reception. 
Here Mr. Gladstone was of course the centre of a 
group, to which I was glad to add myself. His fea- 
tures are almost as familiar to me as my own, for a 
photograph of him in his library has long stood on my 
revolving bookcase, with a large lens before it. He is 
one of a small circle of individuals in whom I have 
had and still have a special personal interest. The 44 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
year 1809, which introduced me to atmospheric exist- 
ence, was the birth-year of Gladstone, Tennyson, Lord 
Houghton, and Darwin. It seems like an honor to 
have come into the world in such company, but it is 
more likely to promote humility than vanity in a com- 
mon mortal to find himself coeval with such illustrious 
personages. Men born in the same year watch each 
other, especially as the sands of life begin to run low, 
as we can imagine so many damaged hour-glasses to 
keep an eye on each other. Women, of course, never 
know who are their contemporaries. 
Familiar to me as were the features of Mr. Glad- 
stone, I looked upon him with astonishment. For he 
stood before me with epaulets on his shoulders and 
a rapier at his side, as military in his aspect as if he 
had been Lord Wolseley, to whom I was introduced 
a short time afterwards. I was fortunate enough to 
see and hear Mr. Gladstone on a still more memorable 
occasion, and can afford to leave saying what were my 
impressions of the very eminent statesman until I 
speak of that occasion. 
A great number of invitations had been given out 
for the reception at Lady Rosebery's,-over two 
thousand, my companion heard it said. Whatever 
the number was, the crowd was very great, - so great 
that one might well feel alarmed for the safety of any 
delicate person who was in the pack which formed it- 
self at one place in the course of the evening. Some 
obstruction must have existed afronte, and the vis a 
tergo became fearful in its pressure on those who were 
caught in the jam. I began thinking of the crushes 
in which I had been caught, or which I had read and 
heard of: the terrible time at the execution of Hol- 
loway and Haggerty, where some forty persons were 45 
squeezed or trampled to death; the Brooklyn Theatre 
and other similar tragedies; the crowd I was in at the 
unveiling of the statue on the column of the Place 
Vendome, where I felt as one may suppose Giles Corey 
did when, in his misery, he called for "more weight" 
to finish him. But there was always a deus ex ma- 
china for us when we were in trouble. Looming up 
above the crowd was the smiling and encouraging 
countenance of the ever active, always present, always 
helpful Mr. Smalley. He cleared a breathing space 
before us. For a short time it was really a formi- 
dable wedging together of people, and if a lady had 
fainted in the press, she might have run a serious risk 
before she could have been extricated. No more 
"marble halls " for us, if we had to undergo the/jeine 
forte et dure as the condition of our presence! We 
were both glad to escape from this threatened as- 
phyxia, and move freely about the noble apartments. 
Lady Rosebery, who was kindness itself, would have 
had us stay and sit down in comfort at the supper- 
table, after the crowd had thinned, but we were tired 
with all we had been through, and ordered our car- 
riage. Ordered our carriage! 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
" I can call spirits from the vasty deep." . . . 
But will they come when you do call for them ? " 
The most formidable thing about a London party is 
getting away from it. "C'est le dernier pas qui 
coute." A crowd of anxious persons in retreat is 
hanging about the windy door, and the breezy stair- 
way, and the airy hall. 
A stentorian voice, hard as that of Rhadamanthus, 
exclaims, - 
"Lady Vere de Vere's carriage stops the way! " 
If my Lady Vere de Vere is not on hand, and that 46 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
pretty quickly, off goes her carriage, and the stern 
voice bawls again, - 
"Mrs. Smith's carriage stops the way! " 
Mrs. Smith's particular Smith may be worth his 
millions and live in his marble palace; but if Mrs. 
Smith thinks her coachman is going to stand with his 
horses at that door until she appears, she is mistaken, 
for she is a minute late, and now the coach moves on, 
and Rhadamanthus calls aloud, - 
"Mrs. Brown's carriage stops the way! " 
Half the lung fevers that carry off the great people 
are got waiting for their carriages. 
I know full well that many readers would be disap- 
pointed if I did not mention some of the grand places 
and bring in some of the great names that lend their 
lustre to London society. We were to go to a fine 
musical party at Lady Rothschild's on the evening of 
the 30th of May. It happened that the day was Sun- 
day, and if we had been as punctilious as some New 
England Sabbatarians, we might have felt compelled 
to decline the tempting invitation. But the party was 
given by a daughter of Abraham, and in every He- 
brew household the true Sabbath was over. We were 
content for that evening to shelter ourselves under the 
old dispensation. 
The party, or concert, was a very brilliant affair. 
Patti sang to us, and a tenor, and a violinist played 
for us. How we two Americans came to be in so fa- 
vored a position I do not know; all I do know is that 
we were shown to our places, and found them very 
agreeable ones. In the same row of seats was the 
Prince of Wales, two chairs off from A 's seat. 
Directly in front of A was the Princess of Wales, 
"in ruby velvet, with six rows of pearls encircling OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
47 
her throat, and two more strings falling quite low; " 
and next her, in front of me, the startling presence 
of Lady de Grey, formerly Lady Lonsdale, and be- 
fore that Gladys Herbert. On the other side of the 
Princess sat the Grand Duke Michael of Russia. 
As we are among the grandest of the grandees, I 
must enliven my sober account with an extract from 
my companion's diary: - 
"There were several great beauties there, Lady 
Claude Hamilton, a queenly blonde, being one. Min- 
nie Stevens Paget had with her the pretty Miss Lang- 
don, of New York. Royalty had one room for supper, 
with its attendant lords and ladies. Lord Rothschild 
took me down to a long table for a sit-down supper, - 
there were some thirty of us. The most superb pink 
orchids were on the table. The [Thane] of sat 
next me, and how he stared before he was introduced! 
. . . This has been the finest party we have been 
to, sitting comfortably in such a beautiful ball-room, 
gazing at royalty in the flesh, and at the shades of 
departed beauties on the wall, by Sir Joshua and 
Gainsborough. It was a new experience to find that 
the royal lions fed upstairs, and mixed animals be- 
low ! " 
A visit to Windsor had been planned, under the 
guidance of a friend whose kindness had already 
shown itself in various forms, and who, before we left 
England, did for us more than we coidd have thought 
of owing to any one person. This gentleman, Mr. 
Willett, of Brighton, called with Mrs. Willett to take 
us on the visit which had been arranged between us. 
Windsor Castle, which everybody knows, or can 
easily learn, all about, is one of the largest of those 
huge caverns in which the descendants of the original 48 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
cave men, when they have reached the height of hu- 
man grandeur, delight to shelter themselves. It seems 
as if such a great hollow quarry of rock would strike a 
chill through every tenant, but modern improvements 
reach even the palaces of kings and queens, and the 
regulation temperature of the castle, or of its inhab- 
ited portions, is fixed at sixty-five degrees of Fahren- 
heit. The royal standard was not floating from the 
tower of the castle, and everything was quiet and 
lonely. We saw all we wanted to, - pictures, furni- 
ture, and the rest. My namesake, the Queen's li- 
brarian, was not there to greet us, or I should have 
had a pleasant half-hour in the library with that very 
polite gentleman, whom I had afterwards the pleasure 
of meeting in London. 
After going through all the apartments in the castle 
that we cared to see, or our conductress cared to show 
us, we drove in the park, along the "three-mile walk," 
and in the by-roads leading from it. The beautiful 
avenue, the open spaces with scattered trees here and 
there, made this a most delightful excursion. I saw 
many fine oaks, one about sixteen feet of honest girth, 
but no one which was very remarkable. I wished I 
could have compared the handsomest of them with one 
in Beverly, which I never look at without taking my 
hat off. This is a young tree, with a future before 
it, if barbarians do not meddle with it, more conspic- 
uous for its spread than its circumference, stretching 
not very far from a hundred feet from bough-end to 
bough-end. I do not think I saw a specimen of the 
British Quercus robur of such consummate beauty. 
But I know from Evelyn and Strutt what England 
has to boast of, and I will not challenge the British 
oak. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
49 
Two sensations I had in Windsor park, or forest, 
for I am not quite sure of the boundary which sepa- 
rates them. The first was the lovely sight of the 
hawthorn in full bloom. I had always thought of the 
hawthorn as a pretty shrub, growing in hedges; as big 
as a currant bush or a barberry bush, or some humble 
plant of that character. I was surprised to see it as 
a tree, standing by itself, and making the most deli- 
cious roof a pair of young lovers could imagine to sit 
under. It looked at a little distance like a young ap- 
ple-tree covered with new-fallen snow. I shall never 
see the word hawthorn in poetry again without the 
image of the snowy but far from chilling canopy ris- 
ing before me. It is the very bower of young love, 
and must have done more than any growth of the for- 
est to soften the doom brought upon man by the fruit 
of the forbidden tree. No wonder that 
u In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of 
■ love," 
with the object of his affections awaiting him in this 
boudoir of nature. What a pity that Zekle, who 
courted Huldy over the apples she was peeling, could 
not have made love as the bucolic youth does, when 
" Every shepherd tells his tale 
Under the hawthorn in the dale ! " 
(I will have it Zove-tale, in spite of Warton's com- 
ment.) But I suppose it does not make so much dif- 
ference, for love transmutes the fruit in Huldy's lap 
into the apples of the Hesperides. 
In this way it is that the associations with the 
poetry we remember come up when we find ourselves 
surrounded by English scenery. The great poets 
build temples of song, and fill them with images and 
symbols which move us almost to adoration; the lesser 50 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
minstrels fill a panel or gild a cornice here and there, 
and make our hearts glad with glimpses of beauty. I 
felt all this as I looked around and saw the hawthorns 
in full bloom, in the openings among the oaks and 
other trees of the forest. Presently 1 heard a sound 
to which I had never listened before, and which I have 
never heard since: - 
Coooo - coooo! 
Nature had sent one cuckoo from her aviary to sing 
his double note for me, that I might not pass away 
from her pleasing show without once hearing the call 
so dear to the poets. It was the last day of spring. 
A few more days, and the solitary voice might have 
been often heard; for the bird becomes so common as 
to furnish Shakespeare an image to fit "the skipping 
king: "- 
" He was but as the cuckoo is in June, 
Heard, not regarded." 
For the lyric poets the cuckoo is "companion of the 
spring," "darling of the spring;" coming with the 
daisy, and the primrose, and the blossoming sweet-pea. 
Where the sound came from I could not tell; it puzzled 
Wordsworth, with younger eyes than mine, to find 
whence issued 
" that cry 
Which made me look a thousand ways 
In bush, and tree, and sky." 
Only one hint of the prosaic troubled my emotional 
delight: I could not help thinking how capitally the 
little rogue imitated the cuckoo clock, with the sound 
of which I was pretty well aquainted. 
On our return from Windsor we had to get ready 
for another great dinner with our Minister, Mr; 
Phelps. As we are in the habit of considering our OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
51 
great officials as public property, and as some of my 
readers want as many glimpses of high life as a decent 
regard to republican sensibilities will permit, I will 
borrow a few words from the diary to which I have 
often referred: - 
"The Princess Louise was there with the Marquis, 
and I had the best opportunity of seeing how they re- 
ceive royalty at private houses. Mr. and Mrs. Phelps 
went down to the door to meet her the moment she 
came, and then Mr. Phelps entered the drawing-room 
with the Princess on his arm, and made the tour of the 
room with her, she bowing and speaking to each one of 
us. Mr. Goschen took me in to dinner, and Lord 
Lorne was on my other side. All of the flowers were 
of the royal color, red. It was a grand dinner. 
. . . The Austrian Ambassador, Count Karoli, took 
Mrs. Phelps in [to dinner], his position being higher 
than that of even the Duke [of Argyll], who sat upon 
her right." 
It was a very rich experience for a single day: the 
stately abode of royalty, with all its manifold his- 
torical recollections, the magnificent avenue of forest 
trees, the old oaks, the hawthorn in full bloom, and 
the one cry of the cuckoo, calling me back to Nature 
in her spring-time freshness and glory; then, after 
that, a great London dinner-party at a house where 
the kind host and the gracious hostess made us feel at 
home, and where we could meet the highest peo- 
ple in the land, - the people whom we who live in a 
simpler way at home are naturally pleased to be with 
under such auspices. What of all this shall I remem- 
ber longest? Let me not seem rmgrateful to my 
friends who planned the excursion for us, or to those 
who asked us to the brilliant evening entertainment, 52 
but I feel as Wordsworth felt about the cuckoo, - he 
will survive all the other memories. 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
" And I can listen to thee yet, 
Can lie upon the plain 
And listen, till I do beget 
That golden time again. 
Nothing is more hackneyed than an American's de- 
scription of his feelings in the midst of the scenes and 
objects he has read of all his days, and is looking 
upon for the first time. To each of us it Appears in 
some respects in the same way, but with a difference 
for every individual. We may smile at Irving's emo- 
tions at the first sight of a distinguished Englishman 
on his own soil, - the ingenious Mr. Roscoe, as an 
earlier generation would have called him. Our tour- 
ists, who are constantly going forward and back be- 
tween England and America, lose all sense of the spe- 
cial distinctions between the two countries which do 
not bear on their personal convenience. Happy are 
those who go with unworn, unsatiated sensibilities from 
the New World to the Old; as happy, it may be, 
those who come from the Old World to the New, but 
of that I cannot form a judgment. 
On the first day of June we called by appointment 
upon Mr. Peel, the Speaker of the House of Commons, 
and went through the Houses of Parliament. We 
began with the train-bearer, then met the housekeeper, 
and presently were joined by Mr. Palgrave. The 
"Golden Treasury" stands on my drawing-room table 
at home, and the name on its title-page had a familiar 
sound. This gentleman is, I believe, a near relative 
of Professor Francis Turner Palgrave, its editor. 
Among other things to which Mr. Palgrave called 
our attention was the death-warrant of Charles the OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
53 
First. One name in the list of signers naturally fixed 
our eyes upon it. It was that of John Dixwell. A 
lineal descendant of the old regicide is very near to 
me by family connection, Colonel Dixwell having come 
to this country, married, and left a posterity, which 
has resumed the name, dropped for the sake of safety 
at the time when he, Goffe, and Whalley, were in con- 
cealment in various parts of New England. 
We lunched with the Speaker, and had the pleas- 
ure of the company of Archdeacon Farrar, in the 
afternoon we went to a tea at a very grand house, 
where, as my companion says in her diary, "it took 
full six men in red satin knee-breeches to let us in." 
Another grand personage asked us to dine with her at 
her country place, but we were too full of engage- 
ments. In the evening we went to a large reception 
at Mr. Gosse's. It was pleasant to meet artists and 
scholars, - the kind of company to which we are much 
used in our eesthetic city. I found our host as agree- 
able at home as he was when in Boston, where he 
became a favorite, both as a lecturer and as a visitor. 
Another day we visited Stafford House, where Lord 
Ronald Gower, himself an artist, did the honors of 
the house, showing us the pictures and sculptures, his 
own included, in a very obliging and agreeable way. 
I have often taken note of the resemblances of living 
persons to the portraits and statues of their remote 
ancestors. In showing us the portrait of one of his 
own far-back progenitors, Lord Ronald placed a pho- 
tograph of himself in the corner of the frame. The 
likeness was so close that the photograph might seem 
to have been copied from the painting, the dress only 
being changed. The Duke of Sutherland, who had 
just come back from America, complained that the 54 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
dinners and lunches had used him up. I was fast 
learning how to sympathize with him. 
Then to Grosvenor House to see the pictures. I 
best remember Gainsborough's beautiful Blue Boy, 
commonly so called, from the color of his dress, and 
Sir Joshua's Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse, which 
everybody knows in engravings. We lunched in cler- 
ical company that day, at the Bishop of Glouces- 
ter and Bristol's, with the Archbishop of York, the 
Reverend Mr. Haweis, and others as guests. I told 
A that she was not sufficiently impressed with 
her position at the side of an archbishop; she was not 
crumbling bread in her nervous excitement. The 
company did not seem to remember Sydney Smith's 
remark to the young lady next him at a dinner-party: 
"My dear, I see you are nervous, by your crumbling 
your bread as you do. I always crumble bread when 
I sit by a bishop, and when I sit by an archbishop I 
crumble bread with both hands." That evening I had 
the pleasure of dining with the distinguished Mr. 
Bryce, whose acquaintance I made in our own coun- 
try, through my son, who has introduced me to many 
agreeable persons of his own generation, with whose 
companionship I am glad to mend the broken and 
merely fragmentary circle of old friendships. 
The 3d of June was a memorable day for us, for on 
the evening of that day we were to hold our reception. 
If Dean Bradley had proposed our meeting oui' guests 
in the Jerusalem Chamber, I should hardly have been 
more astonished. But these kind friends meant what 
they said, and put the offer in such a shape that it was 
impossible to resist it. So we sent out our cards to 
a few hundreds of persons, - those who we thought 
might like invitations. I was particularly desirous OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
55 
that many members of the medical profession whom 
I had not met, but who felt well disposed towards 
me, should be at this gathering. The meeting was in 
every respect a success. I wrote a prescription for as 
many baskets of champagne as would be consistent 
with the well-being of our guests, and such light accom- 
paniments as a London company is wont to expect 
under similar circumstances. My own recollections 
of the evening, unclouded by its festivities, but con- 
fused by its multitudinous succession of introductions, 
are about as definite as the Duke of Wellington's 
alleged monosyllabic description of the battle of Wa- 
terloo. But A writes in her diary: "From nine 
to twelve we stood, receiving over three hundred peo- 
ple out of the four hundred and fifty we invited." As 
I did not go to Europe to visit hospitals or museums, I 
might have missed seeing some of those professional 
brethren whose names I hold in honor and whose writ- 
ings are in my library. If any such failed to receive 
our cards of invitation, it was an accident which, if I 
had known, I should have deeply regretted. So far 
as we could judge by all we heard, oui' unpretentious 
party gave general satisfaction. Many different social 
circles were represented, but it passed off easily and 
agreeably. I can say this more freely, as the credit 
of it belongs so largely to the care and self-sacrificing 
efforts of Dr. Priestley and his charming wife. 
I never refused to write in the birthday book or the 
album of the humblest schoolgirl or schoolboy, and I 
could not refuse to set my name, with a verse from 
one of my poems, in the album of the Princess of 
Wales, which was sent me for that purpose. It was 
a nice new book, with only two or three names in it, 
and those of musical composers, - Rubinstein's, I 56 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
think, was one of them, - so that I felt honored by 
the great lady's request. I ought to describe the 
book, but I only remember that it was quite large 
and sumptuously elegant, and that I copied into it the 
last verse of a poem of mine called "The Chambered 
Nautilus," as 1 have often done for plain republican 
albums. 
The day after our simple reception was notable for 
three social events in which we had our part. The 
first was a lunch at the house of Mrs. Cyril Flower, 
one of the finest in London, - Surrey House, as it is 
called. Mr. Browning, who seems to go everywhere, 
and is one of the vital elements of London society, 
was there as a matter of course. Miss Cobbe, many 
of whose essays I have read with great satisfaction, 
though I cannot accept all her views, was a guest 
whom I was very glad to meet a second time. 
In the afternoon we went to a garden-party given by 
the Princess Louise at Kensington Palace, a gloomy- 
looking edifice, which might be taken for a hospital or 
a poorhouse. Of all the festive occasions which I 
attended, the garden-parties were to me the most for- 
midable. They are all very well for young people, 
and for those who do not mind the nipping and eager 
air, with which, as I have said, the climate of Eng- 
land, no less than that of America, falsifies all the 
fine things the poets have said about May, and, I may 
add, even June. We wandered about the grounds, 
spoke with the great people, stared at the odd ones, 
and said to ourselves, - at least I said to myself, - 
with Hamlet, 
" The air bites shrewdly, it is very cold." 
The most curious personages were some East Indians, 
a chocolate-colored lady, her husband, and children. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
57 
The mother had a diamond on the side of her nose, its 
setting riveted on the inside, one might suppose; the 
effect was peculiar, far from captivating. A said 
that she should prefer the good old-fashioned nose- 
ring, as we find it described and pictured by travellers. 
She saw a great deal more than I did, of course. I 
quote from her diary: "The little Eastern children 
made their native salaam to the Princess by prostrat- 
ing themselves flat on their little stomachs in front of 
her, putting their hands between her feet, pushing 
them aside, and kissing the print of her feet! " 
I really believe one or both of us would have run 
serious risks of catching our "death o' cold," if we 
had waited for our own carriage, which seemed forever 
in coming forward. The good Lady Holland, who 
was more than once our guardian angel, brought us 
home in hers. So we got warmed up at our own 
hearth, and were ready in due season for the large 
and fine dinner-party at Archdeacon Farrar's, where, 
among other guests, were Mrs. Phelps, our Minister's 
wife, who is a great favorite alike with Americans 
and English, Sir John Millais, Mr. Tyndall, and 
other interesting people. 
I am sorry that we could not have visited Newstead 
Abbey. I had a letter from Mr. Thornton Lothrop 
to Colonel Webb, the present proprietor, with whom 
we lunched. I have spoken of the pleasure I had 
when I came accidentally upon persons with whose 
name and fame I had long been acquainted. A simi- 
lar impression was that which I received when I found 
myself in the company of the bearer of an old historic 
name. When my host at the lunch introduced a 
stately-looking gentleman as Sir Kenelm Digby, it 
gave me a start, as if a ghost had stood before me. I 58 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
recovered myself immediately, however, for there was 
nothing of the impalpable or immaterial about the 
stalwart personage who bore the name. I wanted to 
ask him if he carried any of his ancestor's "powder of 
sympathy " about with him. Many, but not all, of my 
readers remember that famous man's famous prepara- 
tion. When used to cure a wound, it was applied to 
the weapon that made it; the part was bound up so as 
to bring the edges of the wound together, and by the 
wondrous influence of the sympathetic powder the 
healing process took place in the kindest possible man- 
ner. Sir Kenelm, the ancestor, was a gallant soldier, 
a grand gentleman, and the husband of a wonderfully 
beautiful wife, whose charms he tried to preserve from 
the ravages of time by various experiments. He was 
also the homoeopathist of his day, the Elisha Perkins 
(metallic tractors) of his generation. The "mind 
cure " people might adopt him as one of their precur- 
sors. 
I heard a curious statement which was illustrated 
in the person of one of the gentlemen we met at this 
table. It is that English sporting men are often deaf 
on one side, in consequence of the noise of the fre- 
quent discharge of their guns affecting the right ear. 
This is a very convenient infirmity for gentlemen who 
indulge in slightly aggressive remarks, but when they 
are hit back never seem to be conscious at all of the 
riposte, - the return thrust of the fencer. 
Dr. Allchin called and took me to a dinner, where 
I met many professional brothers, and enjoyed myself 
highly. . 
By this time every day was pledged for one or more 
engagements, so that many very attractive invitations 
had to be declined. I will not follow the days one by 59 
one, but content myself with mentioning some of the 
more memorable visits. I had been invited to the 
Rabelais Club, as I have before mentioned, by a cable 
message. This is a club of which the late Lord 
Houghton was president, and of which I am a mem- 
ber, as are several other Americans. I was afraid 
that the gentlemen who met, 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
" To laugh and shake in Rabelais's easy chair," 
might be more hilarious and demonstrative in their 
© 
mirth than I, a sober New Englander in the superflu- 
ous decade, might find myself equal to. But there was 
no uproarious jollity; on the contrary, it was a pleas- 
ant gathering of literary people and artists, who took 
their pleasure not sadly, but serenely, and I do not 
remember a single explosive guffaw. 
Another day, after going all over Dudley House, 
including Lady Dudley's boudoir, "in light blue satin, 
the prettiest room we have seen," A says, we 
went, by appointment, to Westminster Abbey, where 
we spent two hours under the guidance of Archdeacon 
Farrar. I think no part of the Abbey is visited with 
so much interest as Poets' Corner. We are all famil- 
iarly acquainted with it beforehand. We are all ready 
for "O rare Ben Jonson I " as we stand over the place 
where he was planted standing upright, as if he had 
been dropped into a post-hole. We remember too 
well the foolish and flippant mockery of Gay's "Life 
is a Jest." If I were dean of the cathedral, I should 
be tempted to alter the J to a G. Then we could 
read it without contempt; for life is a gest, an achieve- 
ment, - or always ought to be. Westminster Abbey 
is too crowded with monuments to the illustrious dead 
and those who have been considered so in their day to 60 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
produce any other than a confused impression. When 
we visit the tomb of Napoleon at the Invalides, no 
side-lights interfere with the view before us in the field 
of mental vision. We see the Emperor; Marengo, 
Austerlitz, Waterloo, Saint Helena, come before us, 
with him as their central figure. So at Stratford, - 
the Cloptons and the John a Combes, with all their 
memorials, cannot make us lift our eyes from the 
stone which covers the dust that once breathed and 
walked the streets of Stratford as Shakespeare. 
Ah, but here is one marble countenance that I know 
full well, and knew for many a year in the flesh! Is 
there an American who sees the bust of Longfellow 
among the effigies of the great authors of England 
without feeling a thrill of pleasure at recognizing the 
features of his native fellow-countryman in the Val- 
halla of his ancestral fellow-countrymen ? There are 
many memorials in Poets' Corner and elsewhere in the 
Abbey which could be better spared than that. Too 
many that were placed there as luminaries have become 
conspicuous by their obscurity in the midst of that 
illustrious company. On the whole, the Abbey pro- 
duces a distinct sense of being overcrowded. It ap- 
pears too much like a lapidary's store-room. Look 
up at the lofty roof, which we willingly pardon for 
shutting out the heaven above us, - at least in an 
average London day; look down at the floor, and 
think of what precious relics it covers; but do not look 
around you with the hope of getting any clear, con- 
centrated, satisfying effect from this great museum of 
gigantic funereal bricabrac. Pardon me, shades of 
the mighty dead! I had something of this feeling, 
but at another hour I might perhaps be overcome by 
emotion, and weep, as my fellow-countryman did at OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
61 
the grave of the earliest of his ancestors. I should 
love myself better in that aspect than I do in this cold- 
blooded criticism; but it suggested itself, and as no 
flattery can soothe, so no censure can wound, "the 
dull, cold ear of death." 
Of course we saw all the sights of the Abbey in a 
hurried way, yet with such a guide and expositor as 
Archdeacon Farrar our two hours' visit was worth a. 
whole day with an undiscriminating verger, who re- 
cites his lesson by rote, and takes the life out of the 
little mob that follows him round by emphasizing the 
details of his lesson, until "Patience on a monument" 
seems to the sufferer, who knows what he wants and 
what he does not want, the nearest emblem of himself 
he can think of. Amidst all the imposing recollec- 
tions of the ancient edifice, one impressed me in the 
inverse ratio of its importance. The Archdeacon 
pointed out the little holes in the stones, in one place, 
where the boys of the choir used to play marbles, 
before America was discovered, probably, - centuries 
before, it may be. It is a strangely impressive 
glimpse of a living past, like the graffiti of Pompeii. 
I find it is often the accident rather than the essential 
which fixes my attention and takes hold of my mem- 
ory. This is a tendency of which I suppose I ought 
to be ashamed, if we have any right to be ashamed of 
those idiosyncrasies which are ordered for us. It is 
the same tendency which often leads us to prefer the 
picturesque to the beautiful. Mr. Gilpin liked the 
donkey in a forest landscape better than the horse. A 
touch of imperfection interferes with the beauty of an 
object and lowers its level to that of the picturesque. 
The accident of the holes in the stone of the noble 
building, for the boys to play marbles with, makes me 62 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
a boy again and at home with them, after looking with 
awe upon the statue of Newton, and turning with a 
shudder from the ghastly monument of Mrs. Nightin- 
gale. 
What a life must be that of one whose years are 
passed chiefly in and about the great Abbey! No- 
where does Macbeth's expression "dusty death " seem 
so true to all around us. The dust of those who have 
been lying century after century below the marbles 
piled over them, - the dust on the monuments they 
lie beneath; the dust on the memories those monu- 
ments were raised to keep living in the recollection of 
posterity, - dust, dust, dust, everywhere, and we our- 
selves but shapes of breathing dust moving amidst 
these objects and remembrances ! Come away! The 
good Archdeacon of the "Eternal Hope "has asked us 
to take a cup of tea with him. The tea-cup will be a 
cheerful substitute for the funeral urn, and a freshly 
made infusion of the fragrant leaf is one of the best 
things in the world to lay the dust of sad reflections. 
It is a somewhat fatiguing pleasure to go through 
the Abbey, in spite of the intense interest no one can 
help feeling. But my day had but just begun when 
the two hours we had devoted to the visit were over. 
At a quarter before eight, my friend Mr. Frederick 
Locker called for me to go to a dinner at the Liter- 
ary Club. I was particularly pleased to dine with 
this association, as it reminded me of our own Satur- 
day Club, which sometimes goes by the same name as 
the London one. They complimented me with a toast, 
and I made some kind of a reply. As I never went 
prepared with a speech for any such occasion, I take 
it for granted that I thanked the company in a way 
that showed my gratitude rather than my eloquence. 63 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
And now, the dinner being over, my day was fairly 
begun. 
This was to be a memorable date in the record of 
the year, one long to be remembered in the political 
history of Great Britain. For on this day, the 7th of 
June, Mr. Gladstone was to make his great speech on 
the Irish question, and the division of the House on 
the Government of Ireland Bill was to take place. 
The whole country, to the corners of its remotest 
colony, was looking forward to the results of this even- 
ing-'s meeting of Parliament. The kindness of the 
Speaker had furnished me with a ticket, entitling me 
to a place among the "distinguished guests," which 
I presented without modestly questioning my right to 
the title. 
The pressure for entrance that evening was very 
great, and I, coming after my dinner with the Literary 
Club, was late upon the ground. The places for "dis- 
tinguished guests " were already filled. But all Eng- 
land was in a conspiracy to do everything possible to 
make my visit agreeable. I did not take up a great 
deal of room, - I might be put into a seat with the 
ambassadors and foreign ministers. And among them 
I was presently installed. It was now between ten 
and eleven o'clock, as nearly as I recollect. The 
House had been in session since four o'clock. A gen- 
tleman was speaking, who was, as my unknown next 
neighbor told me, Sir Michael Hicks-Beach, a leading 
member, as we all know, of the opposition. When he 
sat down there was a hush of expectation, and pres- 
ently Mr. Gladstone rose to his feet. A great burst 
of applause welcomed him, lasting more than a min- 
ute. His clean-cut features, his furrowed cheeks, his 
scanty and whitened hair, his well-shaped but not 64 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
extraordinary head, all familiarized by innumerable 
portraits and emphasized in hundreds of caricatures, 
revealed him at once to every spectator. His great 
speech has been universally read, and I need only 
speak of the way in which it was delivered. His man- 
ner was forcible rather than impassioned or eloquent; 
his voice was clear enough, but must have troubled 
him somewhat, for he had a small bottle from which 
he poured something into a glass from time to time and 
swallowed a little, yet 1 heard him very well for the 
most part. In the last portion of his speech he became 
animated and inspiriting, and his closing words were 
uttered with an impressive solemnity: "Think, I 
beseech you, think well, think wisely, think not for a 
moment, but for the years that are to come, before you 
reject this bill." 
After the burst of applause which followed the con- 
clusion of Mr. Gladstone's speech, the House pro- 
ceeded to the division on the question of passing the 
bill to a second reading. While the counting of the 
votes was going on there was the most intense excite- 
ment. A rumor ran round the House at one moment 
that the vote was going in favor of the second reading. 
It soon became evident that this was not the case, and 
presently the result was announced, giving a majority 
of thirty against the bill, and practically overthrowing 
the liberal administration. Then arose a tumult of 
applause from the conservatives and a wild confusion, 
in the midst of which an Irish member shouted, 
"Three cheers for the Grand Old Man! " which were 
lustily given, with waving of hats and all but Donny- 
brook manifestations of enthusiasm. 
I forgot to mention that I had a very advantageous 
seat among the diplomatic gentlemen, and was felici- 65 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
fating myself on occupying one of the best positions in 
the House, when an usher politely informed me that 
the Russian Ambassador, in whose place I was sitting, 
had arrived, and that I must submit to the fate of 
eviction. Fortunately, there were some steps close 
by, on one of which I found a seat almost as good as 
the one I had just left. 
It was now two o'clock in the morning, and I had 
to walk home, not a vehicle being attainable. I did 
not know my way to my headquarters, and I had no 
friend to go with me, but I fastened on a stray gentle- 
man, who proved to be an ex-member of the House, 
and who accompanied me to 17 Dover Street, where 
I sought my bed with a satisfying sense of having 
done a good day's work and having been well paid 
for it. 
III. 
On the 8th of June we visited the Record Office for 
a sight of the Domesday Book and other ancient objects 
of interest there preserved. As I looked at this too 
faithful memorial of an inexorable past, I thought of 
the battle of Hastings and all its consequences, and 
that reminded me of what I have long remembered as 
I read it in Dr. Robert Knox's "Races of Men." Dr. 
Knox was the monoculous Waterloo surgeon, with 
whom I remember breakfasting, on my first visit to 
England and Scotland. His celebrity is less owing 
to his book than to the unfortunate connection of 
his name with the unforgotten Burke and Hare hor- 
rors. This is his language in speaking of Hastings: 
" . . . that bloody field, surpassing far in its terrible 
results the unhappy day of Waterloo. From this the 66 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
Celt has recovered, but not so the Saxon. To this 
day he feels, and feels deeply, the most disastrous day 
that ever befell his race ; here he was trodden down 
by the Norman, whose iron heel is on him yet. . . . 
To this day the Saxon race in England have never 
recovered a tithe of their rights, and probably never 
wih." 
The Conqueror meant to have a thorough summing 
up of his stolen property. The Anglo-Saxon Chron- 
icle says, - I quote it at second hand, - " So very 
straitly did he cause the survey to be made, that there 
was not a single hyde, nor a yardland of ground, nor 
- it is shameful to say what he thought no shame to 
do - was there an ox or a cow, or a pig passed by, 
and that was not down in the accounts, and then all 
these writings were brought to him." The "looting" 
of England by William and his "twenty thousand 
thieves," as Mr. Emerson calls his army, was a sin- 
gularly methodical proceeding, and Domesday Book 
is a searching inventory of their booty, movable and 
immovable. 
From this reminder of the past we turned to the 
remembrances of home; A going to dine with a 
transplanted Boston friend and other ladies from that 
blessed centre of New England life, while I dined with 
a party of gentlemen at my friend Mr. James Russell 
Lowell's. 
I had looked forward to this meeting with high ex- 
pectations, and they were abundantly satisfied. I knew 
that Mr. Lowell must gather about him, wherever he 
might be, the choicest company, but what his selection 
would be I was curious to learn. I found with me at 
the table my own countrymen and his, Mr. Smalley 
and Mr. Henry James. Of the other guests, Mr. 67 
Leslie Stephen was my only old acquaintance in per- 
son; but Du Maurier and Tenniel I have met in my 
weekly "Punch''for many a year; Mr. Lang, Mr. 
Oliphant, Mr. Townsend, we all know through their 
writings; Mr. Burne-Jones and Mr. Ahna Tadema, 
through the frequent reproductions of their works in 
engravings, as well as by their paintings. If I could 
report a dinner-table conversation, I might be tempted 
to say something of my talk with Mr. Oliphant. I 
like well enough conversation which floats safely over 
the shallows, touching bottom at intervals with a com- 
monplace incident or truism to push it along; I like 
better to find a few fathoms of depth under the surface; 
there is a still higher pleasure in the philosophical 
discourse which calls for the deep sea line to reach 
bottom; but best of all, when one is in the right 
mood, is the contact of intelligences when they are off 
soundings in the ocean of thought. Mr. Oliphant is 
what many of us call a mystic, and I found a singu- 
lar pleasure in listening to him. This dinner at Mr. 
Lowell's was a very remarkable one for the men it 
brought together, and I remember it with peculiar in- 
terest. My entertainer holds a master-key to London 
society, and he opened the gate for me into one of its 
choicest preserves on that evening. 
I did not undertake to renew my old acquaintance 
with hospitals and museums. I regretted that I could 
not be with my companion, who went through the 
Natural History Museum with the accomplished direc- 
tor, Professor W. H. Flower. One old acquaintance I 
did resuscitate. For the second time I took the hand of 
Charles O'Byrne, the celebrated Irish giant of the last 
century. I met him, as in my first visit, at the Royal 
College of Surgeons, where I accompanied Mr. Jona- 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 68 
than Hutchinson. He was in the condition so longed 
for by Sydney Smith on a very hot day; namely, with 
his flesh taken off, and sitting, or rather standing, in 
his bones. The skeleton measures eight feet, and the 
living man's height is stated as having been eight feet 
two, or four inches, by different authorities. His 
hand was the only one I took, either in England or 
Scotland, which had not a warm grasp and a hearty 
welcome in it. 
A went with Boston friends to see "Faust" a 
second time, Mr. Irving having offered her the Royal 
box, and the polite Mr. Bram Stoker serving the party 
with tea in the little drawing-room behind the box; so 
that she had a good time while I was enjoying myself 
at a dinner at Sir Henry Thompson's, where I met 
Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Browning, and other distinguished 
gentlemen. These dinners of Sir Henry's are well 
known for the good company one meets at them, and I 
felt myself honored to be a guest on this occasion. 
Among the pleasures I had promised myself was 
that of a visit to Tennyson, at the Isle of Wight. I 
feared, however, that this would be rendered impracti- 
cable by reason of the very recent death of his younger 
son, Lionel. But I learned from Mr. Locker-Lamp- 
son, whose daughter Mr. Lionel Tennyson had mar- 
ried, that the poet would be pleased to see me at his 
place, Farringford; and by the kind intervention of 
Mr. Locker-Lampson, better known to the literary 
world as Frederick Locker, arrangements were made 
for my daughter and myself to visit him. I consid- 
ered it a very great favor, for Lord Tennyson has a 
poet's fondness for the tranquillity of seclusion, which 
many curious explorers of society fail to remember. 
Lady Tennyson is an invalid, and though nothing could 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
69 
be more gracious than her reception of us both, I fear it 
may have cost her an effort which she would not allow 
to betray itself. Mr. Hallam Tennyson and his wife, 
both of most pleasing presence and manners, did every- 
thing to make our stay agreeable. I saw the poet to 
the best advantage, under his own trees and walking 
over his own domain. He took delight in pointing 
out to me the finest and the rarest of his trees, - and 
there were many beauties among them. I recalled 
my morning's visit to Whittier at Oak Knoll, in Dan- 
vers, a little more than a year ago, when he led me to 
one of his favorites, an aspiring evergreen which shot 
up like a flame. I thought of the graceful American 
elms in front of Longfellow's house and the sturdy 
English elms that stand in front of Lowell's. In this 
garden of England, the Isle of Wight, where every- 
thing grows with such a lavish extravagance of green- 
ness that it seems as if it must bankrupt the soil before 
autumn, I felt as if weary eyes and overtasked brains 
might reach their happiest haven of rest. We all 
remember Shenstone's epigram on the pane of a tavern 
window. If we find our "warmest welcome at an 
inn," we find our most soothing companionship in the 
trees among which we have lived, some of which we 
may ourselves have planted. We lean against them, 
and they never betray our trust; they shield us from 
the sun and from the rain; their spring welcome is a 
new birth, which never loses its freshness; they lay 
their beautiful robes at our feet in autumn; in winter 
they "stand and wait," emblems of patience and of 
truth, for they hide nothing, not even the little leaf- 
buds which hint to us of hope, the last element in their 
triple symbolism. 
This digression, suggested by the remembrance of 70 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
the poet under his trees, breaks my narrative, but 
gives me the opportunity of paying a debt of grati- 
tude. For I have owned many beautiful trees, and 
loved many more outside of my own leafy harem. 
Those who write verses have no special claim to be 
lovers of trees, but so far as one is of the poetical 
temperament he is likely to be a tree-lover. Poets 
have, as a rule, more than the average nervous sensi- 
bility and irritability. Trees have no nerves. They 
live and die without suffering, without self-questioning 
or self-reproach. They have the divine gift of silence. 
They cannot obtrude upon the solitary moments when 
one is to himself the most agreeable of companions. 
The whole vegetable world, even "the meanest flower 
that blows," is lovely to contemplate. What if crea- 
tion had paused there, and you or I had been called 
upon to decide whether self-conscious life should be 
added in the form of the existing animal creation, and 
the hitherto peaceful universe should come under the 
rule of Nature as we now know her, 
" red in tooth and claw " ? 
Are we not glad that the responsibility of the decision 
did not rest on us? 
I am sorry that I did not ask Tennyson to read or 
repeat to me some lines of his own. Hardly any one 
perfectly understands a poem but the poet himself. 
One naturally loves his own poem as no one else can. 
It fits the mental mould in which it was cast, and it 
will not exactly fit any other. For this reason I had 
rather listen to a poet reading his own verses than 
hear the best elocutionist that ever spouted recite 
them. He may not have a good voice or enunciation, 
but he puts his heart and his inter-penetrative intelli- OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
71 
gence into every line, word, and syllable. I should 
have liked to hear Tennyson read such lines as 
" Laborious orient ivory, sphere in sphere ; " 
and in spite of my good friend Matthew Arnold's in, 
terrorem, I should have liked to hear Macaulay read. 
" And Aulns the Dictator 
Stroked Auster's raven mane," 
and other good mouthable lines, from the "Lays of 
Ancient Rome." Not less should I like to hear Mr. 
Arnold himself read the passage beginning, - 
" In his cool hall with haggard eyes 
The Roman noble lay." 
The next day Mrs. Hallam Tennyson took A 
in her pony cart to see Alum Bay, The Needles, and 
other objects of interest, while I wandered over the 
grounds with Tennyson. After lunch his carriage 
called for us, and we were driven across the island, 
through beautiful scenery, to Ventnor, where we took 
the train to Ryde, and there the steamer to Ports- 
mouth, from which two hours and a half of travel 
carried us to London. 
My first visit to Cambridge was at the invitation of 
Mr. Gosse, who asked me to spend Sunday, the 13th of 
June, with him. The rooms in Neville Court, Trinity 
College, occupied by Sir William Vernon Harcourt 
when lecturing at Cambridge, were placed at my dis- 
posal. The room I slept in was imposing with the 
ensigns armorial of the Harcourts and others which 
ornamented its walls. I had great delight in walking 
through the quadrangles, along the banks of the Cam, 
and beneath the beautiful trees which border it. Mr. 
Gosse says that I stopped in the second court of Clare, 72 
and looked around and smiled as if I were bestowing 
my benediction. He was mistaken: I smiled as if I 
were receiving a benediction from my dear old grand- 
mother; for Cambridge in New England is my mother 
town, and Harvard University in Cambridge is my 
Alma Mater. She is the daughter of Cambridge in 
Old England, and my relationship is thus made clear. 
Mr. Gosse introduced me to many of the younger 
and some of the older men of the university. Among 
my visits was one never to be renewed and never to be 
forgotten. It was to the Master of Trinity, the Rev- 
erend William Hepworth Thompson. I hardly ex- 
pected to have the privilege of meeting this very dis- 
tinguished and greatly beloved personage, famous not 
alone for scholarship, or as the successor of Dr. Whe- 
well in his high office, but also as having said some of 
the wittiest things which we have heard since Vol- 
taire's pour encourager les autres. I saw him in his 
chamber, a feeble old man, but noble to look upon in 
all "the monumental pomp of age." He came very 
near belonging to the little group I have mentioned as 
my coevals, but was a year after us. Gentle, digni- 
fied, kindly in his address as if I had been his school- 
mate, he left a very charming impression. He gave 
me several mementoes of my visit, among them a beau- 
tiful engraving of Sir Isaac Newton, representing him 
as one of the handsomest of men. Dr. Thompson 
looked as if he could not be very long for this world, 
but his death, a few weeks after my visit, was a pain- 
fid surprise to me. I had been just in time to see 
"the last of the great men" at Cambridge, as my cor- 
respondent calls him, and I was very grateful that I 
could store this memory among the hoarded treasures I 
have been laying by for such possible extra stretch of 
time as may be allowed me. 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
73 
My second visit to Cambridge will be spoken of in 
due season. 
While I was visiting Mr. Gosse at Cambridge, 
A was not idle. On Saturday she went to Lam- 
beth, where she had the pleasure and honor of shak- 
ing hands with the Archbishop of Canterbury in his 
study, and of looking about the palace with Mrs. 
Benson. On Sunday she went to the Abbey, and 
heard "a broad and liberal sermon " from Archdeacon 
Farrar. Our young lady-secretary stayed and dined 
with her, and after dinner sang to her. "A peaceful, 
happy Sunday," A says in her diary, -not less 
peaceful, I suspect, for my being away, as my callers 
must have got many a "not at 'ome" from young 
Robert of the multitudinous buttons. 
On Monday, the 14th of June, after getting ready 
for our projected excursions, we had an appointment 
which promised us a great deal of pleasure. Mr. 
Augustus Harris, the enterprising and celebrated 
manager of Drury Lane Theatre, had sent us an invi- 
tation to occupy a box, having eight seats, at the rep- 
resentation of "Carmen." We invited the Priestleys 
and our Boston friends, the Shimminses, to take seats 
with us. The chief singer in the opera was Marie 
Roze, who looked well and sang well, and the evening 
went off very happily. After the performance we 
were invited by Mr. Harris to a supper of some thirty 
persons, where we were the special guests. The man- 
ager toasted me, and I said something, - I trust appro- 
priate; but just what I said is as irrecoverable as the 
orations of Demosthenes on the seashore, or the ser- 
mons of St. Francis to the beasts and birds. 
Of all the attentions I received in England, this 
was, perhaps, the least to be anticipated or dreamed 74 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
of. To be feted and toasted and to make a speech in 
Drury Lane Theatre would not have entered into my 
flightiest conceptions, if I had made out a programme 
beforehand. It is a singularly gratifying recollection. 
Drury Lane Theatre is so full of associations with lit- 
erature, with the great actors and actresses of the past, 
with the famous beauties who have stood behind the 
footlights and the splendid audiences that have sat 
before them, that it is an admirable nucleus for remem- 
brances to cluster around. It was but a vague spot 
in memory before, but now it is a bright centre for 
other images of the past. That one evening seems to 
make me the possessor of all its traditions from the 
time when it rose from its ashes, when Byron's poem 
was written and recited, and when the brothers Smith 
gave us the "Address without a Phoenix," and all 
those exquisite parodies which make us feel towards 
their originals somewhat as our dearly remembered 
Tom Appleton did when he said, in praise of some 
real green turtle soup, that it was almost as good as 
mock. 
With much regret we gave up an invitation we had 
accepted to go to Durdans to dine with Lord Rose- 
bery. We must have felt very tired indeed to make 
so great a sacrifice, but we had to be up until one 
o'clock getting ready for the next day's journey; writ- 
ing, packing, and attending to what we left behind us 
as well as what was in prospect. 
On the morning of Wednesday, June 16th, Dr. Don- 
ald Macalister called to attend us on our second visit 
to Cambridge, where we were to be the guests of his 
cousin, Alexander Macalister, Professor of Anatomy, 
whj, with Mrs. Macalister, received us most cordially. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
75 
There was a large luncheon-party at their house, to 
which we sat down in our travelling dresses. In the 
evening they had a dinner-party, at which were pres- 
ent, among others, Professor Stokes, President of the 
Royal Society, and Professor Wright. We had not 
heard much talk of political matters at the dinner- 
tables where we had been guests, but A sat near 
a lady who was very earnest in advocating the Irish 
side of the great impending question. 
The 17th of June is memorable in the annals of my 
country. On that day of the year 1775 the battle of 
Bunker's Hill was fought on the height I see from the 
window of my library, where I am now writing. The 
monument raised in memory of our defeat, which was 
in truth a victory, is almost as much a part of the fur- 
niture of the room as its chairs and tables; outside, as 
they are inside, furniture. But the 17th of June, 
1886, is memorable to me above all the other anniver- 
saries of that day I have known. For on that day I 
received from the ancient University of Cambridge, 
England, the degree of Doctor of Letters, "Doctor 
Litt.," in its abbreviated academic form. The honor 
was an unexpected one; that is, until a short time 
before it was conferred. 
Invested with the academic gown and cap, I 
repaired in due form at the appointed hour to the 
Senate Chamber. Every seat was filled, and among 
the audience were youthful faces in large numbers, 
looking as if they were ready for any kind of outbreak 
of enthusiasm or hilarity. 
The first degree conferred was that of LL. D., on 
Sir W. A. White, G. C. M., G. C. B., to whose 
long list of appended initials it seemed like throwing 
a perfume on the violet to add three more letters. 76 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
When I was called up to receive my honorary title, 
the young voices were true to the promise of the young 
faces. There was a great noise, not hostile nor unpleas- 
ant in its character, in answer to which I could hardly 
help smiling my acknowledgments. In presenting me 
for my degree the Public Orator made a Latin speech, 
from which I venture to give a short extract, which 
I would not do for the world if it were not disguised 
by being hidden in the mask of a dead language. But 
there will be here and there a Latin scholar who will 
be pleased with the way in which the speaker turned 
a compliment to the candidate before him, with a ref- 
erence to one of his poems and to some of his prose 
works. 
" Jurat nuper audivisse eum cujus carmen prope 
primum ' Folium ultimum ' nominatum est, folia ad- 
hue plura e scriniis suis esse prolaturum. Novimus 
quanto lepore descripserit colloquia ilia antemeridi- 
ana, symposia ilia sobria et severa, sed eadem festiva 
et faceta, in quibus totiens mutata persona, modo 
poeta, modo professor, modo princeps et arbiter, 
loquendi, inter convivas suos regnat. " 
I had no sooner got through listening to the speech 
and receiving my formal sentence as Doctor of Letters 
than the young voices broke out in fresh clamor. 
There were cries of "A speech! a speech!" mingled 
with the title of a favorite poem by John Howard 
Payne, having a certain amount of coincidence with 
the sound of my name. The play upon the word was 
not absolutely a novelty to my ear, but it was good- 
natured, and I smiled again, and perhaps made a faint 
inclination, as much as to say, "I hear you, young 
gentlemen, but I do not forget that I am standing on 
my dignity, especially now since a new degree has 77 
added a moral cubit to my stature.'1 Still the cries 
went on, and at last I saw nothing else to do than to 
edge back among the silk gowns, and so lose myself 
and be lost to the clamorous crowd in the mass of 
dignitaries. It was not indifference to the warmth 
of my welcome, but a feeling that I had no claim to 
address the audience because some of its younger mem- 
bers were too demonstrative. I have not forgotten my 
very cordial reception, which made me feel almost as 
much at home in the old Cambridge as in the new, 
where I was born and took my degrees, academic, pro- 
fessional, and honorary. 
The university town left a very deep impression 
upon my mind, in which a few grand objects predomi- 
nate over the rest, all being of a delightful character. 
I was fortunate enough to see the gathering of the 
boats, which was the last scene in their annual pro- 
cession. The show was altogether lovely. The pretty 
river, about as wide as the Housatonic, I should 
judge, as that slender stream winds through "Ca- 
noe Meadow," my old Pittsfield residence, the gaily 
dressed people who crowded the banks, the flower- 
crowned boats, with the gallant young oarsmen who 
handled them so skilfully, made a picture not often 
equalled. The walks, the bridges, the quadrangles, 
the historic college buildings, all conspired to make 
the place a delight and a fascination. The library of 
Trinity College, with its rows of busts by Roubiliac 
and Woolner, is a truly noble hall. But beyond, 
above all the rest, the remembrance of King's College 
Chapel, with its audacious and richly wrought roof and 
its wide and lofty windows, glowing with old devices 
in colors which are ever fresh, as if just from the fur- 
nace, holds the first place in my gallery of Cambridge 
recollections. 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 78 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
I cannot do justice to the hospitalities which were 
bestowed upon us in Cambridge. Professor and Mrs. 
Macalister, aided by Dr. Donald Macalister, did all 
that thoughtful hosts could do to make us feel at home. 
In the afternoon the ladies took tea at Mr. Oscar 
Browning's. In the evening we went to a large din- 
ner at the invitation of the Vice-Chancellor. Many 
little points which I should not have thought of are 
mentioned in A 's diary. I take the following 
extract from it, toning down its vivacity more nearly 
to my own standard: - 
"Twenty were there. The Master of St. John's 
took me in, and the Vice-Chancellor was on the other 
side. . . . The Vice-Chancellor rose and returned 
thanks after the meats and before the sweets, as usual. 
I have now got used to this proceeding, which strikes 
me as extraordinary. Everywhere here in Cambridge, 
and the same in Oxford, I believe, they say grace and 
give thanks. A gilded ewer and flat basin were 
passed, with water in the basin to wash with, and we 
all took our turn at the bath! Next to this came the 
course with the finger-bowls! . . . Why two baths ? " 
On Friday, the 18th, I went to a breakfast at the 
Combination Room, at which about fifty gentlemen 
were present, Dr. Sandys taking the chair. After the 
more serious business of the morning's repast was over, 
Dr. Macalister, at the call of the chairman, arose, and 
proposed my welfare in a very complimentary way. I 
of course had to respond, and I did so in the words 
which came of their own accord to my lips. After 
my unpremeditated answer, which was kindly received, 
a young gentleman of the university, Mr. Heitland, 
read a short poem, of which the following is the 
title: - OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
79 
LINES OF GREETING TO DR. OLIVER WENDELL 
HOLMES. 
AT BREAKFAST IN COMBINATION ROOM, ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, 
CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND. 
I wish I dared quote more than the last two verses 
of these lines, which seemed to me, not unused to giv- 
ing and receiving complimentary tributes, singularly 
happy, and were so considered by all who heard them. 
I think I may venture to give the two verses referred 
to: - 
" By all sweet memory of the saints and sages 
Who wrought among us in the days of yore ; 
By youths who, turning now life's early pages, 
Ripen to match the worthies gone before : 
" On us, O son of England's greatest daughter, 
A kindly word from heart and tongue bestow ; 
Then chase the sunsets o'er the western water, 
And bear our blessing with you as you go." 
I need not say that I left the English Cambridge 
with a heart full of all gratefid and kindly emotions. 
I must not forget that I found at Cambridge, very 
pleasantly established and successfully practising his 
profession, a former student in the dental department 
of our Harvard Medical School, Dr. George Cunning- 
ham, who used to attend my lectures on anatomy. In 
the garden behind the quaint old house in which he 
lives is a large medlar-tree, - the first I remember 
seeing. 
On this same day we bade good-by to Cambridge, 
and took the two o'clock train to Oxford, where we 
arrived at half past five. At this first visit we were 
to be the guests of Professor Max Muller, at his fine 
residence in Norham Gardens. We met there, at 80 
dinner, Mr. Herkomer, whom we have recently had 
with us in Boston, and one or two others. In the 
evening we had music; the professor playing on the 
piano, his two daughters, Mrs. Conybeare and her 
unmarried sister, singing, and a young lady playing 
the violin. It was a very lovely family picture; a 
pretty house, surrounded by attractive scenery; schol- 
arship, refinement, simple elegance, giving distinction 
to a home which to us seemed a pattern of all we could 
wish to see beneath an English roof. It all conies 
back to me very sweetly, but very tenderly and sadly, 
for the voice of the elder of the two sisters who sang 
to us is heard no more on earth, and a deep shadow 
has fallen over the household we found so bright and 
cheerful. 
Everything was done to make me enjoy my visit to 
Oxford, but I was suffering from a severe cold, and 
was paying the penalty of too much occupation and 
excitement. I missed a great deal in consequence, 
and carried away a less distinct recollection of this 
magnificent seat of learning than of the sister univer- 
sity. 
If one wishes to know the magic of names, let him 
visit the places made memorable by the lives of the 
illustrious men of the past in the Old World. As a 
boy I used to read the poetry of Pope, of Goldsmith, 
and of Johnson. How could I look at the Bodleian 
Library, or wander beneath its roof, without recalling 
the lines from "The Vanity of Human Wishes"? 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
" When first the college rolls receive his name, 
The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame; 
Resistless burns the fever of renown, 
Caught from the strong contagion of the gown : 
O'er Bodley's dome his future labors spread, 
And Bacon's mansion trembles o'er his head." 81 
The last line refers to Roger Bacon. " There is a 
tradition that the study of Friar Bacon, built on an 
arch over the bridge, will fall when a man greater 
than Bacon shall pass under it. To prevent so shock- 
ing an accident, it was pulled down many years since." 
We shall meet with a similar legend in another uni- 
versity city. Many persons have been shy of these 
localities, who were in no danger whatever of meeting 
the fate threatened by the prediction. 
We passed through the Bodleian Library, only 
glancing at a few of its choicest treasures, among 
which the exquisitely illuminated missals were espe- 
cially tempting objects of study. It was almost like a 
mockery to see them opened and closed, without having 
the time to study their wonderful miniature paintings. 
A walk through the grounds of Magdalen College, 
under the guidance of the president of that college, 
showed us some of the fine trees for which I was always 
looking. One of these, a wych-elm (Scotch elm of 
some books), was so large that I insisted on having it 
measured. A string was procured and carefully car- 
ried round the trunk, above the spread of the roots 
and below that of the branches, so as to give the small- 
est circumference. I was curious to know how the 
size of the trunk of this tree would compare with that 
of the trunks of some of our largest New England 
elms. I have measured a good many of these. About 
sixteen feet is the measurement of a large elm, like 
that on Boston Common, which all middle-aged people 
remember. From twenty-two to twenty-three feet is 
the ordinary maximum of the very largest trees. I 
never found but one exceed it: that was the great 
Springfield elm. which looked as if it might have been 
formed by the coalescence from the earliest period of 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 82 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
growth, of two young trees. When I measured this 
in 1837, it was twenty-four feet eight inches in cir- 
cumference at five feet from the ground; growing 
larger above and below. I remembered this tree well, 
as we measured the string which was to tell the size of 
its English rival. As we came near the end of the 
string, I felt as I did when I was looking at the last 
dash of Ormonde and The Bard at Epsom. - Twenty 
feet, and a long piece of string left. -Twenty-one. - 
Twenty-two. - Twenty-three. - An extra heartbeat 
or two. - Twenty-four! - Twenty-five and six inches 
over!! - The Springfield ehn may have grown a foot 
or more since I measured it, fifty years ago, but the 
tree at Magdalen stands ahead of all my old measure- 
ments. Many of the fine old trees, this in particular, 
may have been known in their younger days to Addi- 
son, whose favorite walk is still pointed out to the 
visitor. 
I would not try to compare the two university towns, 
as one might who had to choose between them. They 
have a noble rivalry, each honoring the other, and it 
would take a great deal of weighing one point of su- 
periority against another to call either of them the 
first, except in its claim to antiquity. 
After a garden-party in the afternoon, a pleasant 
evening at home, when the professor played and his 
daughter Beatrice sang, and a garden-party the next 
day, I found myself in somewhat better condition, and 
ready for the next move. 
At noon on the 23d of June we left for Edinburgh, 
stopping over night at York, where we found close by 
the station an excellent hotel, and where the next 
morning we got one of the best breakfasts we had in 
our whole travelling experience. At York we wan- Magdalen College, Oxford OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
83 
dered to and through a flower-show, and did the cathe- 
dral, as people do all the sights they see under the 
lead of a paid exhibitor, who goes through his lesson 
like a sleepy old professor. I missed seeing the slab 
with the inscription miserrimus. There may be other 
stones bearing this sad superlative, but there is a story 
connected with this one, which sounds ac if it might 
be true. 
In the year 1834, I spent several weeks in Edin- 
burgh. I was fascinated by the singular beauties of 
that "romantic town," which Scott called his own, and 
which holds his memory, with that of Burns, as a most 
precious part of its inheritance. The castle with the 
precipitous rocky wall out of which it grows, the deep 
ravines with their bridges, pleasant Calton Hill and 
memorable Holyrood Palace, the new town and the 
old town with their strange contrasts, and Arthur's 
Seat overlooking all, - these varied and enchanting 
objects account for the fondness with which all who 
have once seen Edinburgh will always regard it. 
We were the guests of Professor Alexander Crum 
Brown, a near relative of the late beloved and admired 
Dr. John Brown. Professor and Mrs. Crum Brown 
did everything to make our visit a pleasant one. We 
met at their house many of the best known and most 
distinguished people of Scotland. The son of Dr. 
John Brown dined with us on the day of our arrival, 
and also a friend of the family, Mr. Barclay, to whom 
we made a visit on the Sunday following. Among the 
visits I paid, none was more gratifying to me than one 
which I made to Dr. John Brown's sister. No man 
could leave a sweeter memory than the author of "Bab 
and his Friends," of "Pet Marjorie," and other writ- 
ings, all full of the same loving, human spirit. I 84 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
have often exchanged letters with him, and I thought 
how much it would have added to the enjoyment of my 
visit if I could have taken his warm hand and listened 
to his friendly voice. I brought home with me a pre- 
cious little manuscript, written expressly for me by one 
who had known Dr. John Brown from the days of her 
girlhood, in which his character appears in the same 
lovable and loving light as that which shines in every 
page he himself has written. 
On Friday, the 25th, I went to the hall of the uni- 
versity, where I was to receive the degree of LL. D. 
The ceremony was not unlike that at Cambridge, but 
had one peculiar feature: the separate special invest- 
ment of the candidate with the hood, which Johnson 
defines as "an ornamental fold which hangs down the 
back of a graduate." There were great numbers of 
students present, and they showed the same exuber- 
ance of spirits as that which had forced me to with- 
draw from the urgent calls at Cambridge. The cries, 
if possible, were still louder and more persistent; they 
must have a speech and they would have a speech, 
and what could I do about it? I saw but one way of 
pacifying a crowd as noisy and long-breathed as that 
which for about the space of two hours cried out, 
"Great is Diana of the Ephesians I " So I stepped to 
the front and made a brief speech, in which, of course, 
I spoke of the "perfervidum ingenium Scotorum." 
A speech without that would have been like that 
"Address without a Phoenix " before referred to. My 
few remarks were well received, and quieted the shout- 
ing Ephesians of the warm-brained and warm-hearted 
northern university. It gave me great pleasure to 
meet my friend Mr. Underwood, now American consul 
in Glasgow, where he has made himself highly esteemed 
and respected. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
85 
In my previous visit to Edinburgh in 1834, I was 
fond of rambling along under Salisbury Crags, and 
climbing the sides of Arthur's Seat. I had neither 
time nor impulse for such walks during this visit, but 
in driving out to dine at Nidrie, the fine old place now 
lived in by Mr. Barclay and his daughters, we passed 
under the crags and by the side of the great hill. I 
had never heard, or if I had I had forgotten, the name 
and the story of "Samson's Ribs." These are the 
columnar masses of rock which form the face of Salis- 
bury Crags. There is a legend that one day one of 
these pillars will fall and crush the greatest man that 
ever passes under them. It is said that a certain pro- 
fessor was always very shy of "Samson's Ribs," for 
fear the prophecy might be fulfilled in his person. 
We were most hospitably received at Mr. Barclay's, 
and the presence of his accomplished and pleasing 
daughters made the visit memorable to both of us. 
There was one picture on their walls, that of a lady, 
by Sir Joshua, which both of us found very captivat- 
ing. This is what is often happening in the visits we 
make. Some painting by a master looks down upon 
us from its old canvas, and leaves a lasting copy of 
itself, to be stored in memory's picture gallery. These 
surprises are not so likely to happen in the New World 
as in the Old. 
It seemed cruel to be forced to tear ourselves away 
from Edinburgh, where so much had been done to 
make us happy, where so much was left to see and 
enjoy, but we were due in Oxford, where I was to 
receive the last of the three degrees with which I was 
honored in Great Britain. 
Our visit to Scotland gave us a mere glimpse of the 
land and its people, but I have a very vivid recollec- 86 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
tion of both as I saw them on my first visit, when I 
made an excursion into the Highlands to Stirling and 
to Glasgow, where 1 went to church, and wondered 
over the uncouth ancient psalmody, which I believe is 
still retained in use to this day. I was seasoned to 
that kind of poetry in my early days by the verses of 
Tate and Brady, which I used to hear "entuned in the 
nose ful swetely," accompanied by vigorous rasping of 
a huge bass-viol. No wonder that Scotland welcomed 
the song of Burns! 
On our second visit to Oxford we were to be the 
guests of the Vice-Chancellor of the university, Dr. 
Jowett. This famous scholar and administrator lives 
in a very pleasant establishment, presided over by the 
Muses, but without the aid of a Vice-Chancelloress. 
The hospitality of this classic mansion is well known, 
and we added a second pleasant chapter to our previ- 
ous experience under the roof of Professor Max Mul- 
ler. There was a little company there before us, 
including the Lord Chancellor and Lady Herschell, 
Lady Camilla Wallop, Mr. Browning, and Mr. Low- 
ell. We were too late, in consequence of the bad 
arrangement of the trains, and had to dine by our- 
selves, as the whole party had gone out to a dinner, to 
which we should have accompanied them had we not 
been delayed. We sat up long enough to see them 
on their return, and were glad to get to bed, after our 
day's journey from Edinburgh to Oxford. 
At eleven o'clock on the following day we who were 
to receive degrees met at Balliol College, whence we 
proceeded in solemn procession to the Sheldonian The- 
atre. Among my companions on this occasion were 
Mr. John Bright, the Lord Chancellor Herschell, and OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
87 
Mr. Aldis Wright. I have an instantaneous photo- 
graph, which was sent me, of this procession. I can 
identify Mr. Bright and myself, but hardly any of the 
others, though many better acquainted with their faces 
would no doubt recognize them. There is a certain 
sensation in finding one's self invested with the aca- 
demic gown, conspicuous by its red facings, and the 
cap with its square top and depending tassel, which is 
not without its accompanying satisfaction. One can 
walk the streets of any of the university towns in his 
academic robes without being jeered at, as I am afraid 
he would be in some of our own thoroughfares. There 
is a noticeable complacency in the members of our 
Phi Beta Kappa society when they get the pink and 
blue ribbons in their buttonholes, on the day of annual 
meeting. How much more when the scholar is wrapped 
in those flowing folds, with their flaming borders, and 
feels the dignity of the distinction of which they are 
the symbol! I do not know how Mr. John Bright 
felt, but I cannot avoid the impression that some in 
the ranks which moved from Balliol to the Sheldonian 
felt as if Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like 
the candidates for the degree of D. C. L. 
After my experience at Cambridge and Edinburgh, 
I might have felt some apprehension about my recep- 
tion at Oxford. I had always supposed the audience 
assembled there at the conferring of degrees was a 
more demonstrative one than that at any other of the 
universities, and I did not wish to be forced into a 
retreat by calls for a speech, as I was at Cambridge, 
nor to repeat my somewhat irregular proceeding of 
addressing the audience, as at Edinburgh. But when 
I found that Mr. John Bright was to be one of the 
recipients of the degree I felt safe, for if he made a 88 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
speech I should be justified in saying a few words, if 
1 thought it best; and if he, one of the most eloquent 
men in England, remained silent, I surely need not 
make myself heard on the occasion. It was a great 
triumph for him, a liberal leader, to receive the testi- 
monial of a degree from the old conservative univer- 
sity. To myself it was a graceful and pleasing com- 
pliment ; to him it was a grave and significant tribute. 
As we marched through the crowd on our way from 
Balliol, the people standing around recognized Mr. 
Bright, and cheered him vociferously. 
The exercises in the Sheldonian Theatre were more 
complex and lasted longer than those at the other two 
universities. The candidate stepped forward and lis- 
tened to one sentence, then made another move forward 
and listened to other words, and at last was welcomed 
to all the privileges conferred by the degree of Doctor 
of Civil Law, which was announced as being bestowed 
upon him. Mr. Bright, of course, was received with 
immense enthusiasm. I had every reason to be grat- 
ified with my own reception. The only "chaffing" I 
heard was the question from one of the galleries, " Did 
he come in the One-Hoss Shay?" - at which there 
was a hearty laugh, joined in as heartily by myself. A 
part of the entertainment at this ceremony consisted 
in the listening to the reading of short extracts from 
the prize essays, some or all of them in the dead lan- 
guages, which could not have been particularly intelli- 
gible to a large part of the audience. During these 
readings there were frequent interpellations., as the 
French call such interruptions, something like these: 
"That will do, sir!" or "You had better stop, sir!" 
- always, I noticed, with the sir at the end of the 
remark. With us it would have been "Dry up! " or OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
89 
"Hold on! " At last came forward the young poet of 
the occasion, who read an elaborate poem, "Savona- 
rola," which was listened to in most respectful silence, 
and loudly applauded at its close, as I thought, de- 
servedly. Prince and Princess Christian were among 
the audience. They were staying with Professor and 
Mrs. Max Muller, whose hospitalities I hope they 
enjoyed as much as we did. One or two short extracts 
from A 's diary will enliven my record: "The 
Princess had a huge bouquet, and going down the aisle 
had to bow both ways at once, it seemed to me: but 
then she has the Guelph spine and neck! Of course 
it is necessary that royalty should have more elasticity 
in the frame than we poor ordinary mortals. After 
all this we started for a luncheon at All Souls, but had 
to wait (impatiently) for H. R. H. to rest herself, 
while our resting was done standing." 
It is a long while since I read Madame d'Arblay's 
Recollections, but if I remember right, standing while 
royalty rests its bones is one of the drawbacks to a 
maid of honor's felicity. 
"Finally, at near three, we went into a great lunch- 
eon of some fifty. There were different tables, and 
I sat at the one with royalty. The Provost of Oriel 
took me in, and Mr. Browning was on my other side. 
Finally, we went home to rest, but the others started 
out again to go to a garden-party, but that was beyond 
us." After all this came a dinner-party of twenty 
at the Vice-Chancellor's, and after that a reception, 
where among others we met Lord and Lady Coleridge, 
the lady resplendent in jewels. Even after London, 
this could hardly be called a day of rest. 
The Chinese have a punishment which consists sim- 
ply in keeping the subject of it awake, by the constant 90 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
teasing of a succession of individuals employed for the 
purpose. The best of our social pleasures, if carried 
beyond the natural power of physical and mental endur- 
ance, begin to approach the character of such a pen- 
ance. After this we got a little rest; did some mild 
sight-seeing, heard some good music, called on the 
Max Midlers, and hade them good-by with the warm- 
est feeling to all the members of a household which it 
was a privilege to enter. There only remained the 
parting from our kind entertainer, the Vice-Chancel- 
lor, who added another to the list of places which in 
England and Scotland were made dear to us by hos- 
pitality, and are remembered as true homes to us while 
we were under their roofs. 
On the second day of July we left the Vice-Chan- 
cellor's, and went to the Randolph Hotel to meet our 
friends, Mr. and Mrs. Willett, from Brighton, with 
whom we had an appointment of long standing. 
With them we left Oxford, to enter on the next stage 
of our pilgrimage. 
IV. 
It had been the intention of Mr. Willett to go 
with us to visit Mr. Ruskin, with whom he is in the 
most friendly relations. But a letter from Mr. Rus- 
kin's sister spoke of his illness as being too serious for 
him to see company, and we reluctantly gave up this 
part of our plan. 
My first wish was to revisit Stratford-on-Avon, and 
as our travelling host was guided in everything by our 
inclinations, we took the cars for Stratford, where we 
arrived at five o'clock in the afternoon. It had been 91 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
arranged beforehand that we should be the guests of 
Mr. Charles E. Flower, one of the chief citizens of 
Stratford, who welcomed us to his beautiful mansion 
in the most cordial way, and made us once more at 
home under an English roof. 
I well remembered my visit to Stratford in 1834. 
The condition of the old house in which Shakespeare 
was born was very different from that in which we see 
it to-day. A series of photographs taken in different 
years shows its gradual transformation since the time 
when the old projecting angular sign-board told all 
who approached " The immortal Shakespeare was born 
in this House." How near the old house came to 
sharing the fortunes of Jumbo under the management 
of our enterprising^ countryman, Mr. Barnum, I am 
not sure; but that he would have "traded" for it, if 
the proprietors had been willing, I do not doubt, any 
more than I doubt that he would make an offer for the 
Tower of London, if that venerable structure were in 
the market. The house in which Shakespeare was 
born is the Santa Casa of England. What with my 
recollections and the photographs with which I was 
familiarly acquainted, it had nothing very new for 
me. Its outside had undergone great changes, but its 
bare interior was little altered. 
My previous visit was a hurried one, - I took but 
a glimpse, and then went on my way. Now, for nearly 
a week I was a resident of Stratford-on-Avon. How 
shall I describe the perfectly ideal beauty of the new 
home in which I found myself! It is a fine house, 
surrounded by delightful grounds, which skirt the 
banks of the Avon for a considerable distance, and 
come close up to the enclosure of the Church of the 
Holy Trinity, beneath the floor of which lie the mortal 92 
remains of Shakespeare. The Avon is one of those 
narrow English rivers in which half a dozen boats 
might lie side by side, but hardly wide enough for a 
race between two rowing abreast of each other. Just 
here the river is comparatively broad and quiet, there 
being a dam a little lower down the stream. The 
waters were a perfect mirror, as I saw them on one of 
the still days we had at Stratford. I do not remember 
ever before seeing cows walking with their legs in the 
air, as I saw them reflected in the Avon. Along the 
banks the young people were straying. I wondered if 
the youthful swains quoted Shakespeare to their lady- 
loves. Could they help recalling Romeo and Juliet? 
It is quite impossible to think of any human being 
growing up in this place which claims Shakespeare as 
its child, about the streets of which he ran as a boy, 
on the waters of which he must have often floated, 
without having his image ever present. Is it so? 
There are some boys, from eight to ten or a dozen 
years old, fishing in the Avon, close by the grounds 
of "Avonbank," the place at which we are staying. I 
call to the little group. I say, "Boys, who was this 
man Shakespeare, people talk so much about? " Boys 
turn round and look up with a plentiful lack of intel- 
ligence in their countenances. " Don't you know who 
he was nor what he was? " Boys look at each other, 
but confess ignorance. - Let us try the universal 
stimulant of human faculties. "Here are some pen- 
nies for the boy that will tell me what that Mr. Shake- 
speare was." The biggest boy finds his tongue at last. 
"He was a writer, -he wrote plays." That was as 
much as I could get out of the youngling. I remember 
meeting some boys under the monument upon Bunker 
Hill, and testing their knowledge as I did that of the 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
93 
Stratford boys. "What is this great stone pillar here 
for? " I asked. "Battle fought here, -great battle." 
" Who fought ? " " Americans and British. " (I never 
hear the expression Britishers.) "Who was the gen- 
eral on the American side?" "Don' know, - Gen- 
eral Washington or somebody." - What is an old 
battle, though it may have settled the destinies of a 
nation, to the game of base-ball between the Boston 
and Chicago Nines which is to come off to-morrow, or 
to the game of marbles which Tom and Dick are just 
going to play together under the shadow of the great 
obelisk which commemorates the conflict? 
The room more especially assigned to me looked 
out, at a distance of not more than a stone's-throw, on 
the northern aspect of the church where Shakespeare 
lies buried. Workmen were busy on the roof of the 
transept. I could not conveniently climb up to have 
a talk with the roofers, but I have my doubts whether 
they were thinking all the time of the dust over which 
they were working. How small a matter literature is 
to the great seething, toiling, struggling, love-making, 
bread-winning, child-rearing, death-awaiting men and 
women who fill this huge, palpitating world of ours! 
It would be worth while to pass a week or a month 
among the plain, average people of Stratford. What 
is the relative importance in human well-being of the 
emendations of the text of Hamlet and the patching of 
the old trousers and the darning of the old stockings 
which task the needles of the hard-working households 
that fight the battle of life in these narrow streets 
and alleys ? I ask the question; the reader may an- 
swer it. 
Our host, Mr. Flower, is more deeply interested, 
perhaps, than any other individual in the "Shake- 94 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
speare Memorial " buildings which have been erected 
on the banks of the Avon, a short distance above the 
Church of the Holy Trinity. Under Mr. Flower's 
guidance we got into one of his boats, and were rowed 
up the stream to the Memorial edifice. There is a 
theatre, in a round tower which has borrowed some 
traits from the octagon "Globe" theatre of Shake- 
speare's day; a Shakespeare library and portrait gal- 
lery are forming; and in due time these buildings, of 
stately dimensions and built solidly of brick, will con- 
stitute a Shakespearean centre which will attract to 
itself many mementoes now scattered about in various 
parts of the country. 
On the 4th of July we remembered our native land 
with all the affectionate pride of temporary exiles, and 
did not forget to drink at lunch to the prosperity and 
continued happiness of the United States of America. 
In the afternoon we took to the boat again, and were 
rowed up the river to the residence of Mr. Edgar 
Flower, where we found another characteristic English 
family, with its nine children, one of whom was the 
typical English boy, most pleasing and attractive in 
look, voice, and manner. 
I attempt no description of the church, the birth- 
place, or the other constantly visited and often de- 
scribed localities. The noble bridge, built in the reign 
of Henry VII. by Sir Hugh Clopton, and afterwards 
widened, excited my admiration. It was a much finer 
piece of work than the one built long afterwards. I 
have hardly seen anything which gave me a more strik- 
ing proof of the thoroughness of the old English work- 
men. They built not for an age, but for all time, and 
the New Zealander will have to wait a long while be- 
fore he will find in any one of the older bridges that 95 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
broken arch from which he is to survey the ruins of 
London. 
It is very pleasant to pick up a new epithet to apply 
to the poet upon whose genius our language has nearly 
exhausted itself. It delights me to speak of him in 
the words which I have just found in a memoir not 
yet a century old, as " the Warwickshire bard," "the 
inestimable Shakespeare." 
Ever since Miss Bacon made her insane attempt to 
unearth what is left of Shakespeare's bodily frame, 
the thought of doing reverently and openly what she 
would have done by stealth has been entertained by 
psychologists, artists, and others who would like to 
know what were his cranial developments, and to 
judge from the conformation of the skull and face 
which of the various portraits is probably the true one. 
There is little doubt that but for the curse invoked 
upon the person who should disturb his bones, in the 
well-known lines on the slab which covers him, he 
would rest, like Napoleon, like Washington, in a fit- 
ting receptacle of marble or porphyry. In the trans- 
fer of his remains the curiosity of men of science and 
artists would have been gratified, if decay had spared 
the more durable portions of his material structure. 
It was probably not against such a transfer that the 
lines were written, - whoever was their author, - but 
in the fear that they would be carried to the charnel- 
house. 
"In this charnel-house was contained a vast collec- 
tion of human bones. How long they had been depos- 
ited there is not easily to be determined; but it is evi- 
dent, from the immense quantity contained in the 
vault, it could have been used for no other purpose 
for many ages." "It is probable that from an early 96 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
contemplation of this dreary spot Shakespeare imbibed 
that horror of a violation of sepulture which is observ- 
able in many parts of his writings." 
The body of Raphael was disinterred in 1833 to set- 
tle a question of identity of the remains, and placed in 
a new coffin of lead, which was deposited in a marble 
sarcophagus presented by the Pope. The sarcophagus, 
with its contents, was replaced in the same spot from 
which the remains had been taken. But for the in- 
scription such a transfer of the bones of Shakespeare 
would have been proposed, and possibly carried out. 
Kings and emperors have frequently been treated in 
this way after death, and the proposition is no more 
an indignity than was that of the exhumation of the 
remains of Napoleon, or of Andre, or of the author 
of "Home, Sweet Home." But sentiment, a tender 
regard for the supposed wishes of the dead poet, and a 
natural dread of the consequences of violating a dying 
wish, coupled with the execration of its contemner, are 
too powerful for the arguments of science and the 
pleadings of art. If Shakespeare's body had been 
embalmed, - which there is no reason that I know of 
to suppose, - the desire to compare his features with 
the bust and the portraits would have been much more 
imperative. When the body of Charles the First was 
examined, under the direction of Sir Henry Halford, 
in the presence of the Regent, afterwards George the 
Fourth, the face would have been recognized at once 
by all who were acquainted with Vandyke's portrait 
of the monarch, if the lithograph which comes attached 
to Sir Henry's memoir is an accurate representation 
of what they found. Even the bony framework of the 
face, as I have had occasion to know, has sometimes a 
striking likeness to what it was when clothed in its OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
97 
natural features. As between the first engraved por- 
trait and the bust in the church, the form of the bones 
of the head and face would probably be decisive. But 
the world can afford to live without solving this doubt, 
and leave his perishing vesture of decay to its repose. 
After seeing the Shakespeare shrines, we drove over 
to Shottery, and visited the Anne Hathaway cottage. 
I am not sure whether I ever saw it before, but it was 
as familiar to me as if I had lived in it. The old lady 
who showed it was agreeably communicative, and in 
perfect keeping with the place. 
A delightful excursion of ten or a dozen miles car- 
ried our party, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Flower, 
Mr. and Mrs. Willett, with A and myself, to 
Compton Wynyate, a most interesting old mansion, 
belonging to the Marquis of Northampton, who, with 
his daughter-in-law, Lady William Compton, wel- 
comed us and showed us all the wonders of the place. 
It was a fine morning, but hot enough for one of our 
American July days. The drive was through English 
rural scenery; that is to say, it was lovely. The old 
house is a great curiosity. It was built in the reign 
of Henry the Eighth, and has passed through many 
vicissitudes. The place, as well as the edifice, is a 
study for the antiquarian. Remains of the old moat 
which surrounded it are still distinguishable. The 
twisted and variously figured chimneys are of singu- 
lar variety and exceptional forms. Compton Wynyate 
is thought to get its name from the vineyards formerly 
under cultivation on the hillsides, which show the 
signs of having been laid out in terraces. The great 
hall, with its gallery, and its hangings, and the long 
table made from the trunk of a single tree, carries one 
back into the past centuries. There are strange 98 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
nooks and corners and passages in the old building, 
and one place, a queer little "cubby-hole," has the 
appearance of having been a Roman Catholic chapel. 
I asked the master of the house, who pointed out the 
curiosities of the place most courteously, about the 
ghosts who of course were tenants in common with the 
living proprietors. I was surprised when he told me 
there were none. It was incredible, for here was 
every accommodation for a spiritual visitant. I 
should have expected at least one haunted chamber, 
to say nothing of blood-stains that could never be got 
rid of; but there were no legends of the supernatural 
or the terrible. 
Refreshments were served us, among which were 
some hot-house peaches, ethereally delicate as if they 
had grown in the Elysian Fields and been stolen from 
a banquet of angels. After this we went out on the 
lawn, where, at Lady William Compton's request, I 
recited one or two poems; the only time I did such a 
thing in England. 
It seems as if Compton Wynyate must have been 
written about in some novel or romance, - perhaps in 
more than one of both. It is the place of all others 
to be the scene of a romantic story. It lies so hidden 
away among the hills that its vulgar name, according 
to old Camden, was "Compton in the Hole." I am 
not sure that it was the scene of any actual conflict, 
but it narrowly escaped demolition in the great civil 
war, and in 1646 it was garrisoned by the Parliament 
army. 
On the afternoon of July 6th, our hosts had a large 
garden-party. If nothing is more trying than one of 
these out-of-door meetings on a cold, windy, damp day, 
nothing can be more delightful than such a social gath« 99 
ering if the place and the weather are just what we 
could wish them. The garden-party of this afternoon 
was as near perfection as such a meeting could well 
be. The day was bright and warm, but not uncom- 
fortably hot, to me, at least. The company strolled 
about the grounds, or rested on the piazzas, or watched 
the birds in the aviary, or studied rudimentary human- 
ity in the monkey, or, better still, in a charming baby, 
for the first time on exhibition since she made the 
acquaintance of sunshine. Every one could dispose 
of himself or herself as fancy might suggest. I broke 
away at one time, and wandered alone by the side of 
the Avon, under the shadow of the tall trees upon its 
bank. The whole scene was as poetical, as inspiring, 
as any that I remember. It would be easy to write 
verses about it, but unwritten poems are so much bet- 
ter! 
One reminiscence of that afternoon claims prece- 
dence over all the rest. The reader must not forget 
that I have been a medical practitioner, and for thirty- 
five years a professor in a medical school. Among 
the guests whom I met in the grounds was a gentle- 
man of the medical profession, whose name I had 
often heard, and whom I was very glad to see and talk 
with. This was Mr. Lawson Tait, F. R. C. S., M. 
D., of Birmingham. Mr., or more properly Dr., 
Tait has had the most extraordinary success in a class 
of cases long considered beyond the reach of surgery. 
If I refer to it as a scientific han hari, not for the 
taking but for the saving of life, I shall come near 
enough to its description. This operation is said to 
have been first performed by an American surgeon in 
Danville, Kentucky, in the year 1809. So rash and 
dangerous did it seem to most of the profession that it 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 100 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
was sometimes spoken of as if to attempt it were a 
crime. Gradually, however, by improved methods, 
and especially by the most assiduous care in nursing 
the patient after the operation, the mortality grew less 
and less, until it was recognized as a legitimate and 
indeed an invaluable addition to the resources of sur- 
gery. Mr. Lawson Tait has had, so far as I have 
been able to learn, the most wonderful series of suc- 
cessful cases on record: namely, one hundred and 
thirty-nine consecutive operations without a single 
death. 
As I sat by the side of this great surgeon, a ques- 
tion suggested itself to my mind which I leave the 
reader to think over. Which would give the most sat- 
isfaction to a thoroughly humane and unselfish being, 
of cultivated intelligence and lively sensibilities: to 
have written all the plays which Shakespeare has left 
as an inheritance for mankind, or to have snatched 
from the jaws of death more than a hundred fellow- 
creatures, - almost seven scores of suffering women, 
- and restored them to sound and comfortable exist- 
ence? It would be curious to get the answers of a 
hundred men and a hundred women, of a hundred 
young people and a hundred old ones, of a hundred 
scholars and a hundred operatives. My own specialty 
is asking questions, not answering them, and I trust I 
shall not receive a peck or two of letters inquiring of 
me how I should choose if such a question were asked 
me. It may prove as fertile a source of dispute as 
"The Lady or the Tiger." 
It would have been a great thing to pass a single 
night close to the church where Shakespeare's dust 
lies buried. A single visit by daylight leaves a com- 
paratively slight impression. But when, after a 101 
night's sleep, one wakes up and sees the spire and the 
old walls full before him, that impression is very 
greatly deepened, and the whole scene becomes far 
more a reality. Now I was nearly a whole week at 
Stratford-on-Avon. The church, its exterior, its inte- 
rior, the birthplace, the river, had time to make them- 
selves permanent images in my mind. To effect this 
requires a certain amount of exposure, as much as in 
the case of a photographic negative. 
And so we bade good-by to Stratford-on-Avon and 
its hospitalities, with grateful remembrances of our 
kind entertainers and all they did for our comfort and 
enjoyment. 
Where should we go next? Our travelling host 
proposed Great Malvern, a famous watering-place, 
where we should find peace, rest, and good accommo- 
dations. So there we went, and soon found ourselves 
installed at the "Foley Arms" hotel. The room Iwas 
shown to looked out upon an apothecary's shop, and 
from the window of that shop stared out upon me a 
plaster bust which I recognized as that of Samuel 
Hahnemann. I was glad to change to another apart- 
ment, but it may be a comfort to some of his Am eri. 
can followers to know that traces of homoeopathy, -■ 
or what still continues to call itself so, - survive in 
the Old World, which we have understood was pretty 
well tired of it. 
We spent several days very pleasantly at Great 
Malvern. It lies at the foot of a range of hills, the 
loftiest of which is over a thousand feet in height. 
A and I thought we would go to the top of one 
of these, known as the Beacon. We hired a "four- 
wheeler," dragged by a much-enduring horse and in 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 102 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
charge of a civil young man. We turned out of one 
of the streets not far from the hotel, and found our- 
selves facing an ascent which looked like what I should 
suppose would be a pretty steep toboggan slide. We 
both drew back. "Facilis ascensus," I said to myself, 
"sed revocare gradum." It is easy enough to get up 
if you are dragged up, but how will it be to come 
down such a declivity? When we reached it on our 
return, the semi-precipice had lost all its terrors. We 
had seen and travelled over so much worse places that 
this little bit of slanting road seemed as nothing. The 
road which wound up to the summit of the Beacon was 
narrow and uneven. It ran close to the edge of the 
steep hillside, - so close that there were times when 
every one of our forty digits curled up like a bird's 
claw. If we went over, it would not be a fall down a 
good honest precipice, - a swish through the air and 
a smash at the bottom, - but a tumbling, and a roll- 
ing over and over, and a bouncing and bumping, ever 
accelerating, until we bounded into the level below, 
all ready for the coroner. At one sudden turn of the 
road the horse's body projected so far over its edge 
that A declared if the beast had been an inch 
longer he would have toppled over. When we got 
close to the summit we found the wind blowing almost 
a gale. A says in her diary that I (meaning her 
honored parent) " nearly blew off from the top of the 
mountain." It is true that the force of the wind was 
something fearful, and seeing that two young men 
near me were exposed to its fury, I offered an arm to 
each of them, which they were not too proud to accept; 
A was equally attentive to another young person; 
and having seen as much of the prospect as we cared 
to, we were glad to get back to oui' four-wheeler and 103 
our hotel, after a perilous journey almost comparable 
to Mark Twain's ascent of the Riffelberg. 
At Great Malvern we were deliciously idle. We 
walked about the place, rested quietly, drove into the 
neighboring country, and made a single excursion, -• 
to Tewkesbury. There are few places better worth 
seeing than this fine old town, full of historical associ- 
ations and monumental relics. The magnificent old 
abbey church is the central object of interest. The 
noble Norman tower, one hundred and thirty-two feet 
in height, was once surmounted by a spire, which fell 
during divine service on Easter Day of the year 1559. 
The arch of the west entrance is sixteen feet high and 
thirty-four feet wide. The fourteen columns of the 
nave are each six feet and three inches in diameter 
and thirty feet in height. I did not take these meas- 
urements from the fabric itself, but from the guide- 
book, and I give them here instead of saying that the 
columns were huge, enormous, colossal, as they did 
most assuredly seem to me. The old houses of Tewkes- 
bury compare well with the finest of those in Chester. 
I have a photograph before me of one of them, in 
which each of the three upper floors overhangs the one 
beneath it, and the windows in the pointed gable 
above project over those of the fourth floor. 
I ought to have visited the site of Hohne Castle, the 
name of which reminds me of my own origin. "The 
meaning of the Saxon word ' Holme ' is a meadow sur- 
rounded with brooks, and here not only did the castle 
bear the name, but the meadow is described as the 
4 Holme,- where the castle was.' " The final s in the 
name as we spell it is a frequent addition to old Eng- 
lish names, as Camden mentions, giving the name 
Holmes among the examples. As there is no castle at 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 104 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
the Holme now, I need not pursue my inquiries any 
further. It was by accident that I stumbled on this 
bit of archaeology, and as I have a good many name- 
sakes, it may perhaps please some of them to be told 
about it. Few of us hold any castles, I think, in 
these days, except those chateaux en Espagne, of 
which 1 doubt not, many of us are lords and masters. 
In another of our excursions we visited a venerable 
church, where our attention was called to a particular 
monument. It was erected to the memory of one of 
the best of husbands by his "wretched widow," who 
records upon the marble that there never was such a 
man on the face of the earth before, and never will be 
again, and that there never was anybody so miserable 
as she, - no, never, never, never! These are not the 
exact words, but this is pretty nearly what she declares. 
The story is that she married again within a year. 
From my window at the Foley Arms I can see the 
tower of the fine old abbey church of Malvern, which 
would be a centre of pilgrimages if it were in our coun- 
try. But England is full of such monumental struc- 
tures, into the history of which the local antiquarians 
burrow, and pass their peaceful lives in studying and 
writing about them with the same innocent enthusiasm 
that White of Selborne manifested in studying nature 
as his village showed it to him. 
In oui' long drives we have seen everywhere the 
same picturesque old cottages, with the pretty gardens, 
and abundant flowers, and noble trees, more frequently 
elms than any other. One day - it was on the 10th 
of July - we found ourselves driving through what 
seemed to be a gentleman's estate, an ample domain, 
well wooded and well kept. On inquiring to whom 
this place belonged, I was told that the owner was Sir 105 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
Edmund Lechmere. The name had a very familiar 
sound to my ears. Without rising from the table at 
which I am now writing, I have only to turn my head, 
and in full view, at the distance of a mile, just across 
the estuary of the Charles, shining in the morning sun, 
are the roofs and spires and chimneys of East Cam- 
bridge, always known in my younger days as Lech- 
mere's Point. Judge Richard Lechmere was one of 
our old Cambridge Tories, whose property was confis- 
cated at the time of the Revolution. An engraving 
of his handsome house, which stands next to the Vas- 
sall house, long known as Washington's headquarters, 
and since not less celebrated as the residence of Long- 
fellow, is before me, on one of the pages of the pleas- 
ing little volume, "The Cambridge of 1776." I take 
it for granted that our Lechmeres were of the same 
stock as the owner of this property. If so, he proba- 
bly knows all that I could tell him about his colonial 
relatives, who were very grand people, belonging to a 
little aristocratic circle of friends and relatives who 
were faithful to their king and their church. The 
Baroness Riedesel, wife of a Hessian officer who had 
been captured, was for a while resident in this house, 
and her name, scratched on a window-pane, was long 
shown as a sight for eyes unused to titles other than 
governor, judge, colonel, and the like. I was tempted 
to present myself at Sir Edmund's door as one who 
knew something about the Lechmeres in America, but 
I did not feel sure how cordially a descendant of the 
rebels who drove off Richard and Mary Lechmere 
would be received. 
From Great Malvern we went to Bath, another 
place where we could rest and be comfortable. The 
Grand Pump-Room Hotel was a stately building, and 106 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
the bath-rooms were far beyond anything I had ever 
seen of that kind. The remains of the old Roman 
baths, which appear to have been very extensive, are 
partially exposed. What surprises one all over the 
Old World is to see how deeply all the old civiliza-. 
tions contrive to get buried. Everybody seems to 
have lived in the cellar. It is hard to believe that 
the cellar floor was once the sun surface of the smil- 
ing earth. 
I looked forward to seeing Bath with a curious kind 
of interest. I once knew one of those dear old Eng- 
lish ladies whom one finds all the world over, with 
their prim little ways, and their gilt prayer-books, 
and lavender-scented handkerchiefs, and family recol- 
lections. She gave me the idea that Bath, a city 
where the great people often congregate, was more 
especially the paradise of decayed gentlewomen. 
There, she told me, persons with very narrow incomes 
- not demi-fortunes, but demi-quart-de-fortunes- 
could find everything arranged to accommodate their 
modest incomes. I saw the evidence of this every- 
where. So great was the delight I had in looking in 
at the shop-windows of the long street which seemed 
to be one of the chief thoroughfares that, after explor- 
ing it in its full extent by myself, I went for A , 
and led her down one side its whole length and up the 
other. In these shops the precious old dears could 
buy everything they wanted in the most minute quan- 
tities. Such tempting heaps of lumps of white sugar, 
only twopence! Such delectable cakes, two for a 
penny! Such seductive scraps of meat, which would 
make a breakfast nourishing as well as relishing, pos- 
sibly even what called itself a dinner, blushing to see 
themselves labelled threepence or fourpence ! We did OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
107 
not know whether to smile or to drop a tear, as we 
contemplated these baits hung out to tempt the coins 
from the exiguous purses of ancient maidens, forlorn 
widows, withered annuitants, stranded humanity in 
every stage of shipwrecked penury. I am reminded 
of Thackeray's "Jack Spiggot." "And what are 
your pursuits, Jack? says I. 'Sold out when the gov- 
ernor died. Mother lives at Bath. Go down there 
once a year for a week. Dreadful slow. Shilling 
whist.'" Mrs. Gaskell's picture of "Cranford" is 
said to have been drawn from a village in Cheshire, 
but Bath must have a great deal in common with its 
"elegant economies." Do not make the mistake, 
however, of supposing that this splendid watering- 
place, sometimes spoken of as " the handsomest city in 
Britain," is only a city of refuge for people that have 
seen better days. Lord Macaulay speaks of it as 
"that beautiful city which charms even eyes familiar 
with the masterpieces of Bramante and Palladio." If 
it is not quite so conspicuous as a fashionable resort 
as it was in the days of Beau Nash or of Christopher 
Anstey, it has never lost its popularity. Chesterfield 
writes in 1764, "The number of people in this place 
is infinite," and at the present time the annual influx 
of visitors is said to vary from ten to fourteen thou- 
sand. Many of its public buildings are fine, and the 
abbey church, dating from 1499, is an object of much 
curiosity, especially on account of the sculptures on 
its western facade. These represent two ladders, 
with angels going up and down upon them, - sug- 
gested by a dream of the founder of the church, re- 
peating that of Jacob. 
On the 14th of July we left Bath for Salisbury. 
While passing Westbury, one of our fellow-passengers 108 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
exclaimed, "Lookout! Lookout!" "Wliatisit?" 
" The horse! the horse! " All our heads turned to the 
window, and all our eyes fastened on the figure of a 
white horse, upon a hillside some miles distant. This 
was not the white horse which Mr. Thomas Hughes 
has made famous, but one of much less archaic aspect 
and more questionable history. A little book which 
we bought tells us all we care to know about it. "It 
is formed by excoriating the turf over the steep slope 
of the northern escarpment of Salisbury Plain." It 
was "remodelled" in 1778, and "restored" in 1873 
at a cost of between sixty and seventy pounds. It is 
said that a smaller and ruder horse stood here from 
time immemorial, and was made to commemorate a 
victory of Alfred over the Danes. However that may 
be, the horse we now see on the hillside is a very 
modern-looking and well-shaped animal, and is of the 
following dimensions: length, 170 feet; height from 
highest part of back, 128 feet; thickness of body, 55 
feet; length of head, 50 feet; eye, 6 by 8 feet. It 
is a very pretty little object as we see it in the dis- 
tance. 
Salisbury Cathedral was my first love among all 
the wonderful ecclesiastical buildings which I saw 
during my earlier journey. I looked forward to see- 
ing it again with great anticipations of pleasure, 
which were more than realized. 
Our travelling host had taken a whole house in the 
Close, - a privileged enclosure, containing the cathe- 
dral, the bishop's palace, houses of the clergy, and a 
limited number of private residences, one of the very 
best of which was given over entirely into the hands 
of our party during our visit. The house was about 
as near the cathedral as Mr. Flower's house, where OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
109 
we stayed at Stratford-on-Avon, was to the Church 
of the Holy Trinity. It was very completely fur- 
nished, and in the room assigned to me as my library 
I found books in various languages, showing that the 
residence was that of a scholarly person. 
If one had to name the apple of the eye of England, 
I think he would be likely to say that Salisbury Ca- 
thedral was as near as he could come to it, and that 
the white of the eye was Salisbury Close. The cathe- 
dral is surrounded by a high wall, the gates of which, 
- its eyelids, - are closed every night at a seasonable 
hour, at which the virtuous inhabitants are expected 
to be in their safe and sacred quarters. Houses within 
this hallowed precinct naturally bring a higher rent 
than those of the unsanctified and unprotected region 
outside of its walls. It is a realm of peace, glorified 
by the divine edifice, which lifts the least imaginative 
soul upward to the heavens its spire seems trying to 
reach; beautified by rows of noble elms which stretch 
high aloft, as if in emulation of the spire; beatified 
by holy memories of the good and great men who have 
worn their lives out in the service of the church of 
which it is one of the noblest temples. 
For a whole week we lived under the shadow of the 
spire of the great cathedral. Our house was opposite 
the north transept, only separated by the road in front 
of it from the cathedral grounds. Here, as at Strat- 
ford, I learned what it was to awake morning after 
morning and find that I was not dreaming, but there 
in the truth-telling daylight the object of my admira- 
tion, devotion, almost worship, stood before me. I 
need not here say anything more of the cathedral, 
except that its perfect exterior is hardly equalled in 
beauty by its interior, which looks somewhat bare and 110 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
cold. It was my impression that there is more to 
study than to admire in the interior, but I saw the 
cathedral so much oftener on the outside than on the 
inside that I may not have done justice to the latter 
aspect of the noble building. 
Nothing could be more restful than our week at Sal- 
isbury. There was enough in the old town besides 
the cathedral to interest us, - old buildings, a mu- 
seum full of curious objects, and the old town itself. 
When I was there the first time, I remember that we 
picked up a guide-book in which we found a verse that 
has remained in my memory ever since. It is an epi- 
taph on a native of Salisbury who died in Venice. 
"Born in the English Venice, thou didst dye 
Dear Friend, in the Italian Salisbury." 
This would be hard to understand except for the expla- 
nation which the local antiquarians give us of its sig- 
nificance. The Wiltshire Avon flows by or through 
the town, which is drained by brooks that run through 
its streets. These, which used to be open, are now 
covered over, and thus the epitaph becomes somewhat 
puzzling, as there is nothing to remind one of Venice 
in walking about the town. 
While at Salisbury we made several excursions: to 
Old Sarum; to Bemerton, where we saw the residence 
of holy George Herbert, and visited the little atom of 
a church in which he ministered; to Clarendon Park; 
to Wilton, the seat of the Earl of Pembroke, a most 
interesting place for itself and its recollections; and 
lastly to Stonehenge. My second visit to the great 
stones after so long an interval was a strange experi- 
ence. But what is half a century to a place like 
Stonehenge? Nothing dwarfs an individual life like 
one of these massive, almost unchanging monuments OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
111 
of an antiquity which refuses to be measured. The 
"Shepherd of Salisbury Plain" was represented by 
an old man, who told all he knew and a good deal 
more about the great stones, and sheared a living, not 
from sheep, but from visitors, in the shape of shillings 
and sixpences. I saw nothing that wore unwoven 
wool on its back in the neighborhood of the monu- 
ments, but sheep are shown straggling among them in 
the photographs. 
The broken circle of stones, some in their original 
position, some bending over like old men, some lying 
prostrate, suggested the thoughts which took form in 
the following verses. They were read at the annual 
meeting, in January, of the class which graduated at 
Harvard College in the year 1829. Eight of the fifty- 
nine men who graduated sat round the small table. 
There were several other classmates living, but infirm- 
ity, distance, and other peremptory reasons kept them 
from being with us. I have read forty poems at our 
successive annual meetings. I will introduce this last 
one by quoting a stanza from the poem I read in 
1851: - 
As one by one is falling 
Beneath the leaves or snows, 
Each memory still recalling 
The broken ring shall close, 
Till the night winds softly pass 
O'er the green and growing grass, 
Where it waves on the graves 
Of the " Boys of 'Twenty-nine.'* 
THE BROKEN CIRCLE. 
I stood on Sarum's treeless plain, 
The waste that careless Nature owns; 112 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
Lone tenants of her bleak domain, 
Loomed huge and gray the Druid stones. 
Upheaved in many a billowy mound 
The sea-like, naked turf arose, 
Where wandering flocks went nibbling round 
The mingled graves of friends and foes. 
The Briton, Roman, Saxon, Dane, 
This windy desert roamed in turn; 
Unmoved these mighty blocks remain 
Whose story none that lives may learn. 
Erect, half buried, slant or prone, 
These awful listeners, blind and dumb, 
Hear the strange tongues of tribes unknown. 
As wave on wave they go and come. 
" Who are you, giants, whence and why ? " 
I stand and ask in blank amaze; 
My soul accepts their mute reply : 
" A mystery, as are you that gaze. 
" A silent Orpheus wrought the charm 
From riven rocks their spoils to bring ; 
A nameless Titan lent his arm 
To range us in our magic ring. 
" But Time with still and stealthy stride, 
That climbs and treads and levels all, 
That bids the loosening keystone slide, 
And topples down the crumbling wall, - 
" Time, that unbuilds the quarried past, 
Leans on these wrecks that press the sod ; 
They slant, they stoop, they fall at last, 
And strew the turf their priests have trod. 
"No more our altar's wreath of smoke 
Floats up with morning's fragrant dew ; 
The fires are dead, the ring is broke, 
Where stood the many stand the few." OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
113 
- My thoughts had wandered far away, 
Borne off on Memory's outspread wing, 
To where in deepening twilight lay 
The wrecks of friendship's broken ring. 
Ah me ! of all our goodly train 
How few will find our banquet hall! 
Yet why with coward lips complain 
That this must lean and that must fall ? 
Cold is the Druid's altar-stone, 
Its vanished flame no more returns ; 
But ours no chilling damp has known,- 
Unchanged, unchanging, still it burns. 
So let our broken circle stand 
A wreck, a remnant, yet the same, 
While one last, loving, faithful hand 
Still lives to feed its altar-flame ! 
My heart has gone back over the waters to my old 
friends and my own home. When this vision has 
faded, I will return to the silence of the lovely Close 
and the shadow of the great Cathedral. 
V. 
The remembrance of home, with its early and pre- 
cious and long-enduring friendships, has intruded itself 
among my recollections of what I saw and heard, of 
what I felt and thought, in the distant land I was vis- 
iting. I must return to the scene where I found myself 
when the suggestion of the broken circle ran away 
with my imagination. 
The literature of Stonehenge is extensive, and illus- 
trates the weakness of archaeologists almost as well 
as the "Praetorium" of Scott's "Antiquary." "In 114 
1823," says a local handbook, "H. Browne, of Ames- 
bury, published ' An Illustration of Stonehenge and 
Abury,' in which he endeavored to show that both of 
these monuments were antediluvian, and that the latter 
was formed under the direction of Adam. He ascribes 
the present dilapidated condition of Stonehenge to the 
operation of the general deluge; for, he adds, ' to sup- 
pose it to be the work of any people since the flood is 
entirely monstrous.' " 
We know well enough how great stones - pillars 
and obelisks - are brought into place by means of 
our modern appliances. But if the great blocks were 
raised by a mob of naked Picts, or any tribe that 
knew none of the mechanical powers but the lever, 
how did they set them up and lay the cross-stones, the 
imposts, upon the uprights ? It is pleasant, once in a 
while, to think how we should have managed any such 
matters as this if left to our natural resources. We 
are all interested in the make-shifts of Robinson Cru- 
soe. Now the rudest tribes make cords of some kind, 
and the earliest, or almost the earliest, of artificial 
structures is an earth-mound. If a hundred, or hun- 
dreds, of men could drag the huge stones many leagues, 
as they must have done to bring them to their destined 
place, they could have drawn each of them up a long 
slanting mound ending in a sharp declivity, with a 
hole for the foot of the stone at its base. If the stone 
were now tipped over, it would slide into its place, 
and could be easily raised from its slanting position to 
the perpendicular. Then filling in the space between 
the mound and two contiguous stones, the impost could 
be dragged up to its position. I found a pleasure in 
working at this simple mechanical problem, as a change 
from the more imaginative thoughts suggested by the 
mysterious monuments. 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
115 
One incident of our excursion to Stonehenge had a 
significance for me which renders it memorable in my 
personal experience. As we drove over the barren 
plain, one of the party suddenly exclaimed, "Look! 
Look! See the lark rising! " I looked up with the 
rest. There was the bright blue sky, but not a speck 
upon it which my eyes could distinguish. Again, one 
called out, "Hark! Hark! Hear him singing!" I 
listened, but not a sound reached my ear. Was it 
strange that I felt a momentary pang? Those that 
look out at the windows are darkened, and all the 
daughters of music are brought low. Was I never to 
see or hear the soaring songster at Heaven's gate, - 
unless, - unless, - if our mild humanized theology 
promises truly, I may perhaps hereafter listen to him 
singing far down beneath me? For in whatever world 
I may find myself, I hope I shall always love our poor 
little spheroid, so long my home, which some kind 
angel may point out to me as a gilded globule swim- 
ming in the sunlight far away. After walking the 
streets of pure gold in the New Jerusalem, might not 
one like a short vacation, to visit the well-remembered 
green fields and flowery meadows ? I had a very sweet 
emotion of self-pity, which took the sting out of my 
painful discovery that the orchestra of my pleasing 
life-entertainment was unstringing its instruments, and 
the lights were being extinguished, - that the show 
was almost over. All this I kept to myself, of course, 
except so far as I whispered it to the unseen presence 
which we all feel is in sympathy with us, and which, 
as it seemed to my fancy, was looking into my eyes, 
and through them into my soul, with the tender, tear- 
ful smile of a mother who for the first time gently 
presses back the longing lips of her as yet unweaned 
infant. 116 
On our way back from Stonehenge we stopped and 
took a cup of tea with a friend of our host, Mr. Night- 
ingale. His house, a bachelor establishment, was very 
attractive to us by the beauty within and around it. 
His collection of "china," as Pope and old-fashioned 
people call all sorts of earthenware, excited the enthu- 
siasm of our host, whose admiration of some rare pieces 
in the collection was so great that it would have run 
into envy in a less generous nature. 
It is very delightful to find one's self in one of these 
English country residences. The house is commonly 
old, and has a history. It is oftentimes itself a record, 
like that old farmhouse my friend John Bellows wrote 
to me about, which chronicled half a dozen reigns by 
various architectural marks as exactly as if it had been 
an official register. "The stately homes of England," 
as we see them at Wilton and Longford Castle, are 
not more admirable in their splendors than "the 
blessed homes of England " in their modest beauty. 
Everywhere one may see here old parsonages by the 
side of ivy-mantled churches, and the comfortable 
mansions where generations of country squires have 
lived in peace, while their sons have gone forth to fight 
England's battles, and carry her flags of war and com- 
merce all over the world. We in America can hardly 
be said to have such a possession as a family home. 
We encamp,-not under canvas, but in fabrics of 
wood or more lasting materials, which are pulled down 
after a brief occupancy by the builders, and possibly 
their children, or are modernized so that the former 
dwellers in them would never recognize their old hab- 
itations. 
In my various excursions from Salisbury I was fol- 
lowed everywhere by the all-pervading presence of the 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
117 
towering spire. Just what it was in that earlier visit, 
when my eyes were undimmed and my sensibilities 
unworn, just such I found it now. As one drives 
away from the town, the roofs of the houses drop out 
of the landscape, the lesser spires disappear one by 
one, until the great shaft is left standing alone, - 
solitary as the broken statue of Ozymandias in the 
desert, as the mast of some mighty ship above the 
waves which have rolled over the foundering vessel. 
Most persons will, I think, own to a feeling of awe 
in looking up at it. Few can look down from a great 
height without creepings and crispations, if they do 
not get as far as vertigos and that aerial calenture 
which prompts them to jump from the pinnacle on 
which they are standing. It does not take much imag- 
ination to make one experience something of the same 
feeling in looking up at a very tall steeple or chimney. 
To one whose eyes are used to Park Street and the 
Old South steeples as standards of height, a spire 
which climbs four hundred feet towards the sky is a 
new sensation. Whether I am more "afraid of that 
which is high " than I was at my first visit, as I should 
be on the authority of Ecclesiastes, I cannot say, but 
it was quite enough for me to let my eyes climb the 
spire, and I had no desire whatever to stand upon that 
"bad eminence," as I am sure that I should have 
found it. 
I soon noticed a slight deflection from the perpen- 
dicular at the upper part of the spire. This has long 
been observed. I could not say that I saw the spire 
quivering in the wind, as I felt that of Strasburg doing 
when I ascended it, - swaying like a blade of grass 
when a breath of air passes over it. But it has been, 
for at least two hundred years, nearly two feet out of 118 
the perpendicular. No increase in the deviation was 
found to exist when it was examined early in the pres- 
ent century. It is a wonder that this slight-looking 
structure can have survived the blasts, and thunder- 
bolts, and earthquakes, and the weakening effects of 
time on its stones and timbers for five hundred years. 
Since the spire of Chichester Cathedral fell in 1861, 
sheathing itself in its tower like a sword dropping into 
its scabbard, one can hardly help looking with appre- 
hension at all these lofty fabrics. I have before 
referred to the fall of the spire of Tewkesbury Abbey 
church, three centuries earlier. There has been a 
good deal of fear for the Salisbury spire, and great 
precautions have been taken to keep it firm, so that 
we may hope it will stand for another five hundred 
years. It ought to be a "joy forever," for it is a thing 
of beauty, if ever there were one. 
I never felt inclined to play the part of the young 
enthusiast in "Excelsior," as I looked up at the weath- 
ercock which surmounts the spire. But the man who 
oils the weathercock-spindle has to get up to it in some 
way, and that way is by ladders which reach to within 
thirty feet of the top, where there is a small door, 
through which he emerges, to crawl up the remaining 
distance on the outside. "The situation and appear- 
ance," says one of the guide-books, "must be terrific, 
yet many persons have voluntarily and daringly clam- 
bered to the top, even in a state of intoxication." 
Such, I feel sure, was not the state of my most valued 
and exemplary clerical friend, who, with a cool head 
and steady nerves, found himself standing in safety 
at the top of the spire, with his hand upon the vane, 
which nothing terrestrial had ever looked down upon 
in its lofty position, except a bird, a bat, a sky-rocket, 
or a balloon. 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
119 
In saying that the exterior of Salisbury Cathedral 
is more interesting than its interior, I was perhaps 
unfair to the latter, which only yields to the surpass- 
ing claims of the wonderful structure as seen from the 
outside. One may get a little tired of marble Crusa- 
ders, with their crossed legs and broken noses, espe- 
cially if, as one sometimes finds them, they are covered 
with the pencilled autographs of cockney scribblers. 
But there are monuments in this cathedral which 
excite curiosity, and others which awaken the most 
striking associations. There is the "Boy Bishop," his 
marble effigy protected from vandalism by an iron 
cage. There is the skeleton figure representing Fox 
(who should have been called Goose), the poor creature 
who starved himself to death in trying to imitate the 
fast of forty days in the wilderness. Since this per- 
formance has been taken out of the list of miracles, it 
is not so likely to be repeated by fanatics. I confess 
to a strong suspicion that this is one of the ambulatory 
or movable stories, like the "hangman's stone " legend, 
which I have found in so many different parts of Eng- 
land. Skulls and crossbones, sometimes skeletons or 
skeleton-like figures, are not uncommon among the 
sepulchral embellishments of an earlier period. Where 
one of these figures is found, the forty-day-fast story 
is likely to grow out of it, as the mistletoe springs 
from the oak or apple tree. 
With far different emotions we look upon the spot 
where lie buried many of the Herbert family, among 
the rest, 
" Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother," 
for whom Ben Jonson wrote the celebrated epitaph. I 
am almost afraid to say it, but I never could admire 
the line, 120 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
" Lies the subject of all verse," 
nor the idea of Time dropping his hour-glass and 
scythe to throw a dart at the fieshless figure of Death. 
This last image seems to me about the equivalent in 
mortuary poetry of Roubiliac's monument to Mrs. 
Nightingale in mortuary sculpture, - poor conceits 
both of them, without the suggestion of a tear in the 
verses or in the marble; but the rhetorical exaggera- 
tion does not prevent us from feeling that we are 
standing by the resting-place of one who was 
" learn'd and fair and good " 
enough to stir the soul of stalwart Beu Jonson, and 
the names of Sidney and Herbert make us forget the 
strange hyperboles. 
History meets us everywhere, as we stray among 
these ancient monuments. Under that effigy lie the 
great bones of Sir John Cheyne, a mighty man of war, 
said to have been "overthrown " by Richard the Third 
at the battle of Bosworth Field. What was left of 
him was unearthed in 1789 in the demolition of the 
Beauchamp chapel, and his thigh-bone was found to 
be four inches longer than that of a man of common 
stature. 
The reader may remember how my recollections 
started from their hiding-place when I came, in one 
of our excursions, upon the name of Lechmere, as 
belonging to the owner of a fine estate by or through 
which we were driving. I had a similar twinge of 
reminiscence at meeting with the name of Gorges, 
which is perpetuated by a stately monument at the end 
of the north aisle of the cathedral. Sir Thomas 
Gorges, Knight of Longford Castle, may or may not 
have been of the same family as the well-remembered OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
121 
grandiose personage of the New England Pilgrim pe- 
riod. The title this gentleman bore had a far more 
magnificent sound than those of his contemporaries, 
Governor Carver and Elder Brewster. No title ever 
borne among us has filled the mouth quite so full as 
that of "Sir Ferdinando Gorges, Lord Palatine of the 
Province of Maine," a province with "Gorgeana" 
(late the plantation of Agamenticus) as its capital. 
Everywhere in Englaml a New Englander is constantly 
meeting with names of families and places which 
remind him that he comes of a graft from an old tree 
on a new stock. I could not keep down the associa- 
tions called up by the name of Gorges. There is a 
certain pleasure in now and then sprinkling our pro- 
saic colonial history with the holy water of a high- 
sounding title; not that a "Sir" before a man's name 
makes him any better, - for are we not all equal, and 
more than equal, to each other? - but it sounds pleas- 
antly. Sir Harry Vane and Sir Harry Frankland 
look prettily on the printed page, as the illuminated 
capital at the head of a chapter in an old folio pleases 
the eye of the reader. Sir Thomas Gorges was the 
builder of Longford Castle, now the seat of the Earl 
of Radnor, whose family name is Bouverie. Whether 
our Sir Ferdinando was of the Longford Castle stock 
or not I must leave to my associates of the Massachu- 
setts Historical Society to determine. 
We lived very quietly at our temporary home in 
Salisbury Close. A pleasant dinner with the Dean, a 
stroll through the grounds of the episcopal palace, with 
that perpetual feast of the eyes which the cathedral 
offered us, made our residence delightful at the time, 
and keeps it so in remembrance. Besides the cathe- 
dral there were the very lovely cloisters, the noble chap- 122 
ter-house with its central pillar, - this structure has 
been restored and rejuvenated since my earlier visit, 
•-and there were the peaceful dwellings, where I 
insist on believing that only virtue and happiness are 
ever tenants. Even outside the sacred enclosure 
there is a great deal to enjoy, in the ancient town of 
Salisbury. One may rest under the Poultry Cross, 
where twenty or thirty generations have rested before 
him. One may purchase his china at the well-fur- 
nished establishment of the tenant of a spacious apart- 
ment of ancient date, - " the Halle of John Halle," 
a fine private edifice built in the year 1470, restored 
and beautified in 1834; the emblazonment of the royal 
arms having been executed by the celebrated architec- 
tural artist Pugin. The old houses are numerous, and 
some of them eminently picturesque. 
Salisbury was formerly very unhealthy, on account 
of the low, swampy nature of its grounds. The San- 
itary Reform, dating from about thirty years ago, had 
a great effect on the condition of the place. Before 
the drainage the annual mortality was twenty-seven in 
the thousand; since the drainage twenty in the thou- 
sand, which is below that of Boston. In the Close, 
which is a little Garden of Eden, with no serpent in it 
that I could hear of, the deaths were only fourteen in 
a thousand. Happy little enclosure, where thieves can- 
not break through and steal, where Death himself hes- 
itates to enter, and makes a visit only now and then 
at long intervals, lest the fortunate inhabitants should 
think they had already reached the Celestial City I 
It must have been a pretty bitter quarrel that drove 
the tenants of the airy height of Old Sarum to remove 
to the marshy level of the present site of the cathedral 
and the town. I wish we could have given more time 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. Salisbury Cathedral OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
123 
to the ancient fortress and cathedral town. This is 
one of the most interesting historic localities of Great 
Britain. We looked from different points of view at 
the mounds and trenches which marked it as a strongly- 
fortified position. For many centuries it played an 
important part in the history of England. At length, 
however, the jealousies of the laity and the clergy, a 
squabble like that of "town and gown," but with 
graver underlying causes, broke up the harmony and 
practically ended the existence of the place except as 
a monument of the past. It seems a pity that the 
headquarters of the Prince of Peace could not have 
managed to maintain tranquillity within its own bor- 
ders. But so it was; and the consequence followed 
that Old Sarum, with all its grand recollections, is but 
a collection of mounds and hollows, - as much a tomb 
of its pastasBirs Nimroudof that great city, Nineveh. 
Old Sarum is now best remembered by its long-surviv- 
ing privilege, as a borough, of sending two members 
to Parliament. The farcical ceremony of electing two 
representatives who had no real constituency behind 
them was put an end to by the Reform Act of 1832. 
Wilton, the seat of the Earl of Pembroke, within an 
easy drive's distance from Salisbury, was the first 
nobleman's residence I saw in my early visit. Not a 
great deal of what I then saw had survived in my mem- 
ory. I recall the general effect of the stately mansion 
and its grounds. A picture or two of Vandyke's had 
not quite faded out of my recollection. I could not 
forget the armor of Anne de Montmorenci, - not an- 
other Maid of Orleans, but Constable of France, - 
said to have been taken in battle by an ancestor of the 
Herberts. It was one of the first things that made 
me feel I was in the Old World. Miles Standish's 124 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
sword was as far back as New England collections of 
armor carried us at that day. The remarkable gallery 
of ancient sculptures impressed me at the time, but no 
one bust or statue survived as a distinct image. Even 
the beautiful Palladian bridge had not pictured itself 
on my mental tablet as it should have done, and I 
could not have taken my oath that 1 had seen it. But 
the pretty English maidens whom we met on the day 
of our visit to Wilton,- daughters or granddaughters 
of a famous inventor and engineer, - still lingered as 
vague and pleasing visions, so lovely had they seemed 
among the daisies and primroses. The primroses and 
daisies were as fresh in the spring of 1886 as they 
were in the spring of 1833, but 1 hardly dared to ask 
after the blooming maidens of that early period. 
One memory predominates over all others, in walk- 
ing through the halls, or still more in wandering 
through the grounds, of Wilton House. Here Sir 
Philip Sidney wrote his "Arcadia," and the ever 
youthful presence of the man himself rather than the 
recollection of his writings takes possession of us. 
There are three young men in history whose names 
always present themselves to me in a special compan- 
ionship: Pico della Mirandola, "the Phoenix of the 
Age" for his contemporaries; "the Admirable Crich- 
ton," accepting as true the accounts which have come 
down to us of his wonderful accomplishments; and 
Sidney, the Bayard of England, "that glorious star, 
that lively pattern of virtue and the lovely joy of all 
the learned sort, . . . born into the world to show 
unto our age a sample of ancient virtue." The Eng- 
lish paragon of excellence was but thirty-two years 
old when he was slain at Zutphen, the Italian Phoenix 
but thirty-one when he was carried off by a fever, and 125 
the Scotch prodigy of gifts and attainments was only 
twenty-two when he was assassinated hy his worthless 
pupil. Sir Philip Sidney is better remembered by 
the draught of water he gave the dying soldier than 
by all the waters he ever drew from the fountain of 
the Muses, considerable as are the merits of his prose 
and verse. But here, where he came to cool his fiery 
spirit after the bitter insult he had received from the 
Earl of Leicester; here, where he mused and wrote, 
and shaped his lofty plans for a glorious future, he 
lives once more in our imagination, as if his spirit 
haunted the English Arcadia he loved so dearly. 
The name of Herbert, which we have met with in 
the cathedral, and which belongs to the Earls of Pem- 
broke, presents itself to us once more in a very differ- 
ent and very beautiful aspect. Between Salisbury 
and Wilton, three miles and a half distant, is the little 
village of Bemerton, where "holy George Herbert" 
lived and died, and where he lies buried. Many 
Americans who know little else of him recall the lines 
borrowed from him by Irving in the "Sketch-Book" 
and by Emerson in "Nature." The "Sketch-Book" 
gives the lines thus: - 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
" Sweet day, so pure, so calm, so bright, 
The bridal of the earth and sky." 
In other versions the fourth word is cool instead of 
pure, and cool is, I believe, the correct reading. The 
day when we visited Bemerton was, according to 
A 's diary, "perfect." I was struck with the 
calm beauty of the scene around us, the fresh green- 
ness of all growing things, and the stillness of the 
river which mirrored the heavens above it. It must 
have been this reflection which the poet was thinking 
of when he spoke of the bridal of the earth and sky. 126 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
The river is the Wiltshire Avon; not Shakespeare's 
Avon, but the southern stream of the same name, 
which empties into the British Channel. 
So much of George Herbert's intellectual and moral 
character repeat themselves in Emerson that if I 
believed in metempsychosis I should think that the 
English saint had reappeared in the American philos- 
opher. Their features have a certain resemblance, 
but the type, though an exceptional and fine one, is 
not so very rare. I found a portrait in the National 
Gallery which was a good specimen of it; the bust of 
a near friend of his, more intimate with him than 
almost any other person, is often taken for that of 
Emerson. I see something of it in the portrait of Sir 
Philip Sidney, and I doubt not that traces of a simi- 
lar mental resemblance ran through the whole group, 
with individual characteristics which were in some 
respects quite different. I will take a single verse of 
Herbert's from Emerson's "Nature," - one of the 
five which he quotes: - 
" Nothing hath got so far 
But man hath caught and kept it as his prey; 
His eyes dismount the highest star: 
He is in little all the sphere. 
Herbs gladly cure our flesh because that they 
Find their acquaintance there." 
Emerson himself fully recognizes his obligations to 
"the beautiful psalmist of the seventeenth century," 
as he calls George Herbert. There are many passages 
in his writings which sound as if they were para- 
phrases from the elder poet. From him it is that 
Emerson gets a word he is fond of, and of which his 
imitators are too fond: - 
" Who sweeps a room as for thy laws 
Makes that and the action fine" OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
127 
The little chapel in which Herbert officiated is perhaps 
half as long again as the room in which I am writ- 
ing, but it is four or five feet narrower, - and I do 
not live in a palace. Here this humble servant of God 
preached and prayed, and here by his faithful and 
loving service he so endeared himself to all around him 
that he has been canonized by an epithet no other 
saint of the English Church has had bestowed upon 
him. His life as pictured by Izaak Walton is, to 
borrow one of his own lines, 
" A box where sweets compacted lie; " 
and I felt, as I left his little chapel and the parsonage 
which he rebuilt as a free-will offering, as a pilgrim 
might feel who had just left the holy places at Jeru- 
salem. 
Among the places which I saw in my first visit was 
Longford Castle, the seat of the Earl of Radnor. 
I remembered the curious triangular building, con- 
structed with reference to the doctrine of the Trin- 
ity, as churches are built in the form of the cross. I 
remembered how the omnipresent spire of the great 
cathedral, three miles away, looked down upon the 
grounds about the building as if it had been their 
next-door neighbor. I had not forgotten the two cel- 
ebrated Claudes, Morning and Evening. My eyes 
were drawn to the first of these two pictures when I 
was here before; now they turned naturally to the 
landscape with the setting sun. I have read my St. 
Ruskin with due reverence, but I have never given up 
my allegiance to Claude Lorraine. But of all the 
fine paintings at Longford Castle, no one so much 
impressed me at my recent visit as the portrait of 
Erasmus by Hans Holbein. This is one of those 128 
pictures which help to make the Old World worth a 
voyage across the Atlantic. Portraits of Erasmus are 
not uncommon; every scholar would know him if he 
met him in the other world with the look he wore on 
earth. All the etchings and theii* copies give a char- 
acteristic presentation of the spiritual precursor of 
Luther, who pricked the false image with his rapier 
which the sturdy monk slashed with his broadsword. 
What a face it is which Hans Holbein has handed 
down to us in this wonderful portrait at Longford Cas- 
tle I How dry it is with scholastic labor, how keen 
with shrewd scepticism, how worldly-wise, how con- 
scious of its owner's wide-awake sagacity! Erasmus 
and Rabelais, - Nature used up all her arrows for 
their quivers, and had to wait a hundred years and 
more before she could find shafts enough for the out- 
fit of Voltaire, leaner and keener than Erasmus, and 
almost as free in his language as the audacious creator 
of Gargantua and Pantagruel. 
I have not generally given descriptions of the curi- 
ous objects which I saw in the great houses and muse- 
ums which I visited. There is, however, a work of 
art at Longford Castle so remarkable that I must 
speak of it. I was so much struck by the enormous 
amount of skilful ingenuity and exquisite workman- 
ship bestowed upon it that I looked up its history, 
which I found in the "Beauties of England and 
Wales." This is what is there said of the wonderful 
steel chair: " It was made by Thomas Rukers at the 
city of Augsburgh, in the year 1575, and consists of 
more than 130 compartments, all occupied by groups 
of figures representing a succession of events in the 
annals of the Roman Empire, from the landing of 
./Eneas to the reign of Rodolphus the Second." It 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 129 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
looks as if a life had gone into the making of it, as a 
pair or two of eyes go to the working of the bridal 
veil of an empress. 
Fifty years ago and more, when I was at Longford 
Castle with my two companions, who are no more 
with us, we found there a pleasant, motherly old house* 
keeper, or attendant of some kind, who gave us a 
draught of home-made ale and left a cheerful remem- 
brance with us, as, I need hardly say, we did with 
her, in a materialized expression of our good-will. It 
always rubbed very hard on my feelings to offer money 
to any persons who had served me well, as if they 
were doing it for their own pleasure. It may have 
been the granddaughter of the kindly old matron of 
the year 1833 who showed us round, and possibly, if 
I had sunk a shaft of inquiry, I might have struck a 
well of sentiment. But 
" Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee," 
carried into practical life, is certain in its financial 
result to the subject of the emotional impulse, but is 
less sure to call forth a tender feeling in the recipient. 
One will hardly find it worth while to go through the 
world weeping over his old recollections, and paying 
gold instead of silver and silver instead of copper to 
astonished boatmen and bewildered chambermaids. 
On Sunday, the 18th of July, we attended morning 
service at the cathedral. The congregation was not 
proportioned to the size of the great edifice. These 
vast places of worship were built for ages when faith 
was the rule and questioning the exception. I will 
not say that faith has grown cold, but it has cooled 
from white heat to cherry red or a still less flaming 
color. As to church attendance, I have heard the 130 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
saying attributed to a great statesman, that "once a 
day is Orthodox, but twice a day is Puritan." No 
doubt many of the same class of people that used to 
fill the churches stay at home and read about evolution 
or telepathy, or whatever new gospel they may have 
got hold of. Still the English seem to me a religious 
people; they have leisure enough to say grace and 
give thanks before and after meals, and their institu- 
tions tend to keep alive the feelings of reverence which 
cannot be said to be distinctive of our own people. 
In coming out of the cathedral, on the Sunday I 
just mentioned, a gentleman addressed me as a fel- 
low-countryman. There is something, - I will not 
stop now to try and define it, - but there is some- 
thing by which we recognize an American among the 
English before he speaks and betrays his origin. 
Our new friend proved to be the president of one of 
our American colleges; an intelligent and well-in- 
structed gentleman, of course. By the invitation of 
our host he came in to visit us in the evening, and 
made himself very welcome by his agreeable conversa- 
tion. 
I took great delight in wandering about the old town 
of Salisbury. There are no such surprises in our old- 
est places as one finds in Chester, or Tewkesbury, or 
Stratford, or Salisbury, and I have no doubt in scores 
or hundreds of similar places which I have never vis- 
ited. The best substitute for such rambles as one can 
take through these mouldy boroughs (or burrows) is to 
be found in such towns as Salem, Newburyport, Ports- 
mouth. Without imagination, Shakespeare's birth- 
place is but a queer old house, and Anne Hathaway's 
home a tumble-down cottage. With it, one can see 
the witches of Salem Village sailing out of those little 131 
square windows, which look as if they were made on 
purpose for them, or stroll down to Derby's wharf 
and gaze at "Cleopatra's Barge," precursor of the 
yachts of the Astors and Goidds and Vanderbilts, as 
she comes swimming into the harbor in all her gilded 
glory. But it must make a difference what the imag- 
ination has to work upon, and I do not at all wonder 
that Mr. Ruskin would not wish to live in a land 
where there are no old ruins of castles and monas- 
teries. Man will not live on bread only; he wants a 
great deal more, if he can get it, - frosted cake as 
well as corn-bread; and the New World keeps the 
imagination on plain and scanty diet, compared to the 
rich traditional and historic food which furnishes the 
banquets of the Old World. 
What memories that week in Salisbury and the 
excursions from it have left in my mind's picture gal- 
lery ! The spire of the great cathedral had been with 
me as a frequent presence during the last fifty years 
of my life, and this second visit has deepened every 
line of the impression, as Old Mortality refreshed the 
inscriptions on the tombstones of the Covenanters. I 
find that all these pictures which I have brought home 
with me to look at, with 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
" that inward eye 
Which is the bliss of solitude," 
are becoming clearer and brighter as the excitement 
of overcrowded days and weeks gradually calms down. 
I can be in those places where I passed days and 
nights, and became habituated to the sight of the 
cathedral, or of the Church of the Holy Trinity, at 
morning, at noon, at evening, whenever I turned my 
eyes in its direction. I often close my eyelids, and 
startle my household by saying, "Now I am in Salis- 132 
bury," or "Now I am in Stratford." It is a blessed 
thing to be able, in the twilight of years, to illuminate 
the soul with such visions. The Charles, which flows 
beneath my windows, which I look upon between the 
words of the sentence I am now writing, only turning 
my head as I sit at my table, - the Charles is hardly 
more real to me than Shakespeare's Avon, since I 
floated on its still waters, or strayed along its banks 
and saw the cows reflected in the smooth expanse, 
their legs upward, as if they were walking the skies as 
the flies walk the ceiling. Salisbury Cathedral stands 
as substantial in my thought as our own King's 
Chapel, since I slumbered by its side, and arose in 
the morning to find it still there, and not one of those 
unsubstantial fabrics built by the architect of dreams. 
On Thursday, the 22d of July, we left Salisbury 
for Brighton, where we were to be guests at Arnold 
House, the residence of our kind host. Here we 
passed another delightful week, with everything around 
us to contribute to our quiet comfort and happiness. 
The most thoughtful of entertainers, a house filled with 
choice works of art, fine paintings, and wonderful pot- 
tery, pleasant walks and drives, a visitor now and 
then, Mr. and Mrs. Goldwin Smith among the num- 
ber, rest and peace in a magnificent city built for 
enjoyment, -what more could we have asked to make 
our visit memorable? Many watering-places look for- 
lorn and desolate in the intervals of "the season." 
This was not the time of Brighton's influx of visitors, 
but the city was far from dull. The houses are very 
large, and have the grand air, as if meant for princes; 
the shops are well supplied; the salt breeze comes in 
fresh and wholesome, and the noble esplanade is lively 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
133 
with promenaders and Bath chairs, some of them occu- 
pied by people evidently ill or presumably lame, some, 
I suspect, employed by healthy invalids who are too 
lazy to walk. I took one myself, drawn by an old 
man, to see how I liked it, and found it very conven- 
ient, but I was tempted to ask him to change places 
and let me drag him. 
With the aid of the guide-book I could describe the 
wonders of the pavilion and the various changes which 
have come over the great watering-place. The grand 
walks, the two piers, the aquarium, and all the great 
sights which are shown to strangers deserve full atten- 
tion from the tourist who writes for other travellers, 
but none of these things seem to me so interesting as 
what we saw and heard in a little hamlet which has 
never, so far as I know, been vulgarized by sight- 
seers. We drove in an open carriage, - Mr. and 
Mrs. Willett, A , and myself,-into the coun- 
try, which soon became bare, sparsely settled, a long 
succession of rounded hills and hollows. These are 
the South Downs, from which comes the famous mut- 
ton known all over England, not unknown at the 
table of our Saturday Club and other well-spread 
boards. After a drive of ten miles or more we arrived 
at a little "settlement," as we Americans would call 
it, and drove up to the door of a modest parsonage, 
where dwells the shepherd of the South Down flock of 
Christian worshippers. I hope that the good clergy- 
man, if he ever happens to see what I am writing, will 
pardon me for making mention of his hidden retreat, 
which he himself speaks of as "one of the remoter 
nooks of the old country." Nothing I saw in England 
brought to my mind Goldsmith's picture of "the man 
to all the country dear," and his surroundings, like 134 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
this visit. The church dates, if I remember right, from 
the thirteenth century. Some of its stones show 
marks, as it is thought, of having belonged to a Saxon 
edifice. The massive leaden font is of a very great 
antiquity. In the wall of the church is a narrow open- 
ing, at which the priest is supposed to have sat and 
listened to the confession of the sinner on the outside 
of the building. The dead lie all around the church, 
under stones bearing the dates of several centuries. 
One epitaph, which the unlettered Muse must have 
dictated, is worth recording. After giving the chief 
slumberer's name the epitaph adds, - 
" Here lies ou either side, the remains of each of his former 
wives." 
Those of a third have found a resting-place close by, 
behind him. 
It seemed to me that Mr. Bunner's young man in 
search of Arcady might look for it here with as good 
a chance of being satisfied as anywhere I can think of. 
But I suppose that men and women and especially 
boys, would prove to be a good deal like the rest of 
the world, if one lived here long enough to learn all 
about them. One thing I can safely say, - an Eng- 
lish man or boy never goes anywhere without his fists. 
I saw a boy of ten or twelve years, whose pleasant face 
attracted my attention. I said to the rector, " That is 
a fine-looking little fellow, and I should think an in- 
telligent and amiable kind of boy." "Yes," he said, 
"yes; he can strike from the shoulder pretty well, 
too. I had to stop him the other day, indulging in 
that exercise." Well, I said to myself, we have not 
yet reached the heaven on earth which I was fancying 
might be embosomed in this peaceful looking hollow. 
Youthful angels can hardly be in the habit of striking 135 
from the shoulder. But the well-known phrase, belong- 
ing to the pugilist rather than to the priest, brought 
me back from the ideal world into which my imagina- 
tion had wandered. 
Our week at Brighton was passed in a very quiet 
but most enjoyable way. It could not be otherwise 
with such a host and hostess, always arranging every- 
thing with reference to our well-being and in accord- 
ance with our wishes. I became very fond of the 
esplanade, such a public walk as I never saw anything 
to compare with. In these tranquil days, and long, 
honest nights of sleep, the fatigues of what we had 
been through were forgotten, the scales showed that 
we were becoming less ethereal every day, and we 
were ready for another move. 
We bade good-by to our hosts with the most grate- 
ful and the warmest feeling towards them, after a 
month of delightful companionship and the experience 
of a hospitality almost too generous to accept, but 
which they were pleased to look upon as if we were 
doing them a favor. 
On the 29th of July we found ourselves once more 
in London. 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
VI. 
We found our old quarters all ready and awaiting 
us. Mrs. Mackellar's motherly smile, Sam's civil 
bow, and the rosy cheeks of many-buttoned Robert 
made us feel at home as soon as we crossed the thresh- 
old. 
The dissolution of Parliament had brought "the 
season " abruptly to an end. London was empty. 
There were three or four millions of people in it, but 136 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
the great houses were for the most part left without 
occupants except their liveried guardians. We kept 
as quiet as possible, to avoid all engagements. For 
now we were in London for London itself, to do shop- 
ping, to see sights, to be our own master and mis- 
tress, and to live as independent a life as we possibly 
could. 
The first thing we did on the day of our arrival was* 
to take a hansom and drive over to Chelsea, to look at 
the place where Carlyle passed the larger part of his 
life. The whole region about him must have been 
greatly changed during his residence there, for the 
Thames Embankment was constructed long after he 
removed to Chelsea. We had some little difficulty in 
finding the place we were in search of. Cheyne (pro- 
nounced "Chainie") Walk is a somewhat extended 
range of buildings. Cheyne Row is a passage which 
reminded me a little of my old habitat, Montgomery 
Place, now Bosworth Street. Presently our attention 
was drawn to a marble medallion portrait on the cor- 
ner building of an ordinary-looking row of houses. 
This was the head of Carlyle, and an inscription 
informed us that he lived for forty-seven years in the 
house No. 24 of this row of buildings. Since Carlyle's 
home life has been made public, he has appeared to 
us in a different aspect from the ideal one which he 
had before occupied. He did not show to as much 
advantage under the Boswellizing process as the dog- 
matist of the last century, dear old Dr. Johnson. 
But he remains not the less one of the really interest- 
ing men of his generation, a man about whom we 
wish to know all that we have a right to know. 
The sight of an old nest over which two or three 
winters have passed is a rather saddening one. The OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
137 
dingy three-story brick house in which Carlyle lived, 
one in a block of similar houses, was far from attrac- 
tive. It was untenanted, neglected; its windows were 
unwashed, a pane of glass was broken; its threshold 
appeared untrodden, its whole aspect forlorn and des- 
olate. Yet there it stood before me, all covered with 
its associations as an ivy-clad tower with its foliage. 
I wanted to see its interior, but it looked as if it did 
not expect a tenant and would not welcome a visitor. 
Was there nothing but this forbidding house-front to 
make the place alive with some breathing memory? 
I saw crossing the street a middle-aged woman, - a 
decent body, who looked as if she might have come 
from the lower level of some not opulent but respecta- 
ble household. She might have some recollection of 
an old man who was once her neighbor. I asked her 
if she remembered Mr. Carlyle. Indeed she did, she 
told us. She used to see him often, in front of his 
house, putting bits of bread on the railing for the 
birds. He did not like to see anything wasted, she 
said. The merest scrap of information, but genuine 
and pleasing; an instantaneous photograph only, but 
it makes a pretty vignette in the volume of my remi- 
niscences. There are many considerable men in every 
generation of mankind, but not a great number who 
are personally interesting, - not a great many of 
whom we feel that we cannot know too much; whose 
foibles, even, we care to know about; whose shortcom- 
ings we try to excuse; who are not models, but whose 
special traits make them attractive. Carlyle is one 
of these few, and no revelations can prevent his inter- 
esting us. He was not quite finished in his parental 
existence. The bricklayer's mortar of his father's 
calling stuck to his fingers through life, but only as 138 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
the soil he turned with his ploughshare clung to the 
fingers of Burns. We do not wish either to have been 
other than what he was. Their breeding brings them 
to the average level, carries them more nearly to the 
heart, makes them a simpler expression of our com- 
mon humanity. As we rolled in the cars by Ecclefe- 
chan, I strained my eyes to take in every point of the 
landscape, every cottage, every spire, if by any chance 
I could find one in that lonely region. There was not 
a bridge nor a bit of masonry of any kind that I did 
not eagerly scrutinize, to see if it were solid and hon- 
est enough to have been built by Carlyle's father. 
Solitary enough the country looked. I admired Mr. 
Emerson's devotion in seeking his friend in his bare 
home among what he describes as the " desolate heath- 
ery hills " about Craigenputtock, which were, I sup- 
pose, much like the region through which we were 
passing. 
It is one 01 the regrets of my life that I never saw 
or heard Carlyle. Nature, who seems to be fond of 
trios, has given us three dogmatists, all of whom 
greatly interested their own generation, and whose 
personality, especially in the case of the first and the 
last of the trio, still interests us,-Johnson, Cole- 
ridge, and Carlyle. Each was an oracle in his way, 
but unfortunately oracles are fallible to their descend- 
ants. The author of "Taxation no Tyranny" had 
wholesale opinions, and pretty harsh ones, about us 
Americans, and did not soften them in expression: 
"Sir, they are a race of convicts, and ought to be 
thankfid for anything we allow them short of hang- 
ing." We smile complacently when we read this out- 
burst, which Mr. Croker calls in question, but which 
agrees with his saying in the presence of Miss Seward, 139 
441 am willing to love all mankind except an Ameri- 
can." 
A generation or two later comes along Coleridge, 
with his circle of reverential listeners. He says of 
Johnson that his fame rests principally upon Boswell, 
and that "his bow-wow manner must have had a good 
deal to do with the effect produced." As to Coleridge 
himself, his contemporaries hardly know how to set 
bounds to their exaltation of his genius. Dibdin 
comes pretty near going into rhetorical hysterics in 
reporting a conversation of Coleridge's to which he 
listened: 44 The auditors seemed to be wrapt in won- 
der and delight, as one observation more profound, or 
clothed in more forcible language, than another fell 
from his tongue. . . . As I retired homeward I 
thought a second Johnson had visited the earth to 
make wise the sons of men." And De Quincey 
speaks of him as "the largest and most spacious intel- 
lect, the subtlest and most comprehensive, in my judg- 
ment, that has yet existed amongst men." One is 
sometimes tempted to wish that the superlative could 
be abolished, or its use allowed only to old experts. 
What are men to do when they get to heaven, after 
having exhausted their vocabulary of admiration on 
earth? 
Now let us come down to Carlyle, and see what he 
says of Coleridge. We need not take those conversa- 
tional utterances which called down the wrath of Mr. 
Swinburne, and found expression in an epigram which 
violates all the proprieties of literary language. Look 
at the full-length portrait in the Life of Sterling. 
Each oracle denies his predecessor, each magician 
breaks the wand of the one who went before him. 
There were Americans enough ready to swear by Car- 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 140 
lyle until he broke his staff in meddling with our anti- 
slavery conflict, and buried it so many fathoms deep 
that it could never be fished out again. It is rather 
singular that Johnson and Carlyle should each of them 
have shipwrecked his sagacity and shown a terrible 
leak in his moral sensibilities on coming in contact 
with American rocks and currents, with which neither 
had any special occasion to concern himself, and which 
both had a great deal better have steered clear of. 
But here I stand once more before the home of the 
long-suffering, much-laboring, loud-complaining He- 
raclitus of his time, whose very smile had a grimness 
in it more ominous than his scowl. Poor man! Dys- 
peptic on a diet of oatmeal porridge; kept wide awake 
by crowing cocks; drummed out of his wits by long- 
continued piano-pounding; sharp of speech, I fear, to 
his high-strung wife, who gave him back as good as 
she got! I hope I am mistaken about their every- 
day relations, but again I say, poor man! - for all his 
complaining must have meant real discomfort, which 
a man of genius feels not less, certainly, than a com- 
mon mortal. 
I made a second visit to the place where he lived, 
but I saw nothing more than at the first. I wanted 
to cross the threshold over which he walked so often, to 
see the noise-proof room in which he used to write, to 
look at the chimney-place down which the soot came, 
to sit where he used to sit and smoke his pipe, and to 
conjure up his wraith to look in once more upon his old 
deserted dwelling. That vision was denied me. 
After visiting Chelsea we drove round through 
Regent's Park. I suppose that if we use the superla- 
tive in speaking of Hyde Park, Regent's Park will be 
the comparative, and Battersea Park the positive, 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
141 
ranking them in the descending grades of their hie- 
rarchy. But this is my conjecture only, and the social 
geography of London is a subject which only one who 
has become familiarly acquainted with the place should 
speak of with any confidence. A stranger coming to 
our city might think it made little difference whether 
his travelling Boston acquaintance lived in Alpha 
Avenue or in Omega Square, but he would have to 
learn that it is farther from one of these places to the 
other, a great deal farther, than it is from Beacon 
Street, Boston, to Fifth Avenue, New York. 
An American finds it a little galling to be told that 
he must not drive in his numbered hansom or four- 
wheeler except in certain portions of Hyde Park. If 
he is rich enough to keep his own carriage, or if he 
will pay the extra price of a vehicle not vulgarized by 
being on the numbered list, he may drive anywhere 
that his Grace or his Lordship does, and perhaps have 
a mean sense of satisfaction at finding himself in the 
charmed circle of exclusive "gigmanity." It is a 
pleasure to meet none but well-dressed and well-man- 
nered people, in well-appointed equipages. In the 
high road of our own country, one is liable to fall in 
with people and conveyances that it is far from a 
pleasure to meet. I was once driving in an open car- 
riage, with members of my family, towards my own 
house in the country town where I was then living. 
A cart drawn by oxen was in the road in front of us. 
Whenever we tried to pass, the men in it turned 
obliquely across the road and prevented us, and this 
was repeated again and again. I could have wished I 
had been driving in Hyde Park, where clowns and 
boors, with their carts and oxen, do not find admit- 
tance. Exclusiveness has its conveniences. 142 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
The next day, as I was strolling through Burlington 
Arcade, I saw a figure just before me which I recog- 
nized as that of my townsman, Mr. Abbott Lawrence. 
He was accompanied by his son, who had just returned 
from a trip round the planet. There are three grades 
of recognition, entirely distinct from each other: the 
meeting of two persons of different countries who speak 
the same language,-an American and an English- 
man, for instance; the meeting of two Americans from 
different cities, as of a Bostonian and a New Yorker 
or a Chicagonian; and the meeting of two from the 
same city, as of two Bostonians. 
The difference of these recognitions may be illus- 
trated by supposing certain travelling philosophical 
instruments, endowed with intelligence and the power 
of speech, to come together in their wanderings, - let 
us say in a restaurant of the Palais Royal. "Very 
hot," says the talking Fahrenheit (Thermometer) from 
Boston, and calls for an ice, which he plunges his 
bulb into and cools down. In comes an intelligent 
and socially disposed English Barometer. The two 
travellers greet each other, not exactly as old acquaint- 
ances, but each has heard very frequently about the 
other, and their relatives have been often associated. 
"We have a good deal in common," says the Barom- 
eter. "Of the same blood, as we may say; quicksil- 
ver is thicker than water." "Yes," says the little 
Fahrenheit, "and we are both of the same mercurial 
temperament." While their columns are dancing up 
and down with laughter at this somewhat tepid and 
low-pressure pleasantry, there come in a New York 
Reaumur and a Centigrade from Chicago. The 
Fahrenheit, which has got warmed up to temperate, 
rises to summer heat, and even a little above it. They 143 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
enjoy each other's company mightily. To be sure, 
their scales differ, but have they not the same freezing 
and the same boiling point? To be sure, each thinks 
his own scale is the true standard, and at home they 
might get into a contest about the matter, but here in 
a strange land they do not think of disputing. Now, 
while they are talking about America and their own 
local atmosphere and temperature, there comes in a 
second Boston Fahrenheit. The two of the same name 
look at each other for a moment, and rush together so 
eagerly that their bulbs are endangered. How well 
they understand each other I Thirty-two degrees 
marks the freezing point. Two hundred and twelve 
marks the boiling point. They have the same scale, 
the same fixed points, the same record: no wonder 
they prefer each other's company! 
I hope that my reader has followed my illustration, 
and finished it off for himself. Let me give a few 
practical examples. An American and an English- 
man meet in a foreign land. The Englishman has 
occasion to mention his weight, which he finds has 
gained in the course of his travels. "How much is it 
now? " asks the American. "Fourteen stone. How 
much do you weigh? " "Within four pounds of two 
hundred." Neither of them takes at once any clear 
idea of what the other weighs. The American has 
never thought of his own, or his friends', or anybody's 
weight in stones of fourteen pounds. The Englishman 
has never thought of any one's weight in pounds. 
They can calculate very easily with a slip of paper 
and a pencil, but not the less is their language but 
half intelligible as they speak and listen. The same 
thing is in a measure true of other matters they talk 
about. "It is about as large a space as the Common," 144 
says the Boston man. "It is as large as St. James's 
Park," says the Londoner. "As high as the State 
House," says the Bostonian, or "as tall as Bunker 
Hill Monument," or "about as big as the Frog Pond," 
where the Londoner would take St. Paul's, the Nelson 
Column, the Serpentine, as his standard of compari- 
son. The difference of scale does not stop here; it 
runs through a great part of the objects of thought 
and conversation. Au average American and an aver- 
age Englishman are talking together, and one of them 
speaks of the beauty of a field of corn. They are 
thinking of two entirely different objects: one of a bil- 
lowy level of soft waving wheat, or rye, or barley; the 
other of a rustling forest of tall, jointed stalks, toss- 
ing their plumes and showing their silken epaulettes, 
as if every stem in the ordered ranks were a soldier in 
full regimentals. An Englishman planted for the first 
time in the middle of a well-grown field of Indian corn 
would feel as much lost as the babes in the wood. 
Conversation between two Londoners, two New York- 
ers, two Bostonians, requires no foot-notes, which is a 
great advantage in their intercourse. 
To return from my digression and my illustration. 
I did not do a great deal of shopping myself while in 
London, being contented to have it done for me. But 
in the way of looking in at shop windows I did a very 
large business. Certain windows attracted me by a 
variety in unity which surpassed anything I have been 
accustomed to. Thus one window showed every con- 
ceivable convenience that could be shaped in ivory, 
and nothing else. One shop had such a display of 
magnificent dressing-cases that I should have thought 
a whole royal family was setting out on its travels. I 
see the cost of one of them is two hundred and seventy 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
145 
guineas. Thirteen hundred and fifty dollars seems a 
good deal to pay for a dressing-case. 
On the other hand, some of the first-class tradesmen 
and workmen make no show whatever. The tailor to 
whom I had credentials, and who proved highly satis- 
factory to me, as he had proved to some of my country- 
men and to Englishmen of high estate, had only one 
small sign, which was placed in one of his windows, 
and received his customers in a small room that would 
have made a closet for one of our stylish merchant tail- 
ors. The bootmaker to whom I went on good recom- 
mendation had hardly anything about his premises to 
remind one of his calling. He came into his studio, 
took my measure very carefully, and made me a pair 
of what we call Congress boots, which fitted well when 
once on my feet, but which it cost more trouble to get 
into and to get out of than I could express my feelings 
about without dangerously enlarging my limited vocab- 
ulary. 
Bond Street, Old and New, offered the most invit- 
ing windows, and I indulged almost to profligacy in 
the prolonged inspection of their contents. Stretching 
my walk along New Bond Street till I came to a great 
intersecting thoroughfare, I found myself in Oxford 
Street. Here the character of the shop windows 
changed at once. Utility and convenience took the 
place of show and splendor. Here I found various 
articles of use in a household, some of which were new 
to me. It is very likely that I could have found most 
of them in our own Boston Cornhill, but one often 
overlooks things at home which at once arrest his atten- 
tion when he sees them in a strange place. I saw 
great numbers of illuminating contrivances, some of 
which pleased me by their arrangement of reflectors. 146 
Bryant and May's safety matches seemed to be used 
everywhere. I procured some in Boston with these 
names on the box, but the label said they were made 
in Sweden, and they diffused vapors that were enough 
to produce asphyxia. I greatly admired some of Dr. 
Dresser's water-cans and other contrivances, modelled 
more or less after the antique, but I found an abun- 
dant assortment of them here in Boston, and I have 
one I obtained here more original in design and more 
serviceable in daily use than any I saw in London. I 
should have regarded Wolverhampton, as we glided 
through it, with more interest, if I had known at that 
time that the inventive Dr. Dresser had his headquar- 
ters in that busy-looking town. 
One thing, at least, I learned from my London 
experience: bettei' a small city where one knows all it 
has to offer, than a great city where one has no disin- 
terested friend to direct him to the right places to find 
what he wants. But of course there are some grand 
magazines which are known all the world over, and 
which no one should leave London without entering as 
a looker-on, if not as a purchaser. 
There was one place I determined to visit, and one 
man I meant to see, before returning. The place was 
a certain book-store or book-shop, and the person was 
its proprietor, Mr. Bernard Quaritch. I was getting 
very much pressed for time, and I allowed ten minutes 
only for my visit. I never had any dealings with Mr. 
Quaritch, but one of my near relatives had, and I had 
often received his catalogues, the scale of prices in 
which had given me an impression almost of sublimity. 
I found Mr. Bernard Quaritch at No. 15 Piccadilly, 
and introduced myself, not as one whose name he must 
know, but rather as a stranger, of whom he might have 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 147 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
heard through my relative. The extensive literature 
of catalogues is probably little known to most of my 
readers. I do not pretend to claim a thorough ac- 
quaintance with it, but I know the luxury of reading 
good catalogues, and such are those of Mr. Quaritch. 
1 should like to deal with him; for if he wants a hand- 
some price for what he sells, he knows its value, and 
does not offer the refuse of old libraries, but, on the 
other hand, all that is most precious in them is pretty 
sure to pass through his hands, sooner or later. 
"Now, Mr. Quaritch," I said, after introducing 
myself, "I have ten minutes to pass with you. You 
must not open a book; if you do I am lost, for I shall 
have to look at every illuminated capital, from the first 
leaf to the colophon." Mr. Quaritch did not open a 
single book, but let me look round his establishment, 
and answered my questions very courteously. It so 
happened that while I was there a gentleman came in 
whom I had previously met,-my namesake, Mr. 
Holmes, the Queen's librarian at Windsor Castle. 
My ten minutes passed very rapidly in conversation 
with these two experts in books, the bibliopole and 
the bibliothecary. No place that I visited made me 
feel more thoroughly that I was in London, the great 
central mart of all that is most precious in the world. 
Leave at home all your guineas, ye who enter here, 
would be a good motto to put over his door, unless you 
have them in plenty and can spare them, in which case 
Take all your guineas with you would be a better one. 
For you can here get their equivalent, and more than 
their equivalent, in the choicest products of the press 
and the finest work of the illuminator, the illustrator, 
and the binder. You will be sorely tempted. But 
do not be surprised when you ask the price of the vol 148 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
ume you may happen to fancy. You are not dealing 
with a bouquiniste of the Quais, in Paris. You are 
not foraging in an old book-shop of New York or Bos- 
ton. Do not suppose that I undervalue these dealers 
in old and rare volumes. Many a much-prized rarity 
have I obtained from Drake and Burnham and others 
of my townsmen, and from Denham in New York; 
and in my student years many a choice volume, some- 
times even an Aldus or an Elzevir, have I found 
among the trumpery spread out on the parapets of the 
quays. But there is a difference between going out 
on the Fourth of July with a militia musket to shoot 
any catbird or "chipmunk" that turns up in a piece 
of woods within a few miles of our own cities, and 
shooting partridges in a nobleman's preserves on the 
First of September. I confess to having felt a certain 
awe on entering the precincts made sacred by their 
precious contents. The lord and master of so many 
Editiones Principes, the guardian of this great nur- 
sery full of incunabula, did not seem to me like a sim- 
ple tradesman. I felt that I was in the presence of 
the literary purveyor of royal and imperial libraries, 
the man before whom millionaires tremble as they cal- 
culate, and billionaires pause and consider. I have 
recently received two of Mr. Quaritch's catalogues, 
from which I will give my reader an extract or two, 
to show him what kind of articles this prince of biblio- 
poles deals in. 
Perhaps you would like one of those romances which 
turned the head of Don Quixote. Here is a volume 
which will be sure to please you. It is on one of his 
lesser lists, confined principally to Spanish and Portu- 
guese works: - 
"Amadis de Gaula . . . folio, gothic letter, First OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
149 
edition, unique . . . red morocco super extra, double 
with olive morocco, richly gilt, tooled to an elegant 
Grolier design, gilt edges ... in a neat case." 
A pretty present for a scholarly friend. A nice old 
book to carry home for one's own library. Two hun- 
dred pounds - one thousand dollars - will make you 
the happy owner of this volume. 
But if you would have also on your shelves the first 
edition of the "Cronica del famoso cabaluero cid Ruy 
Diaz Campadero," not "richly gilt," not even bound 
in leather, but in "cloth boards," you will have to pay 
two hundred and ten pounds to become its proprietor. 
After this you will not be frightened by the thought 
of paying three hundred dollars for a little quarto 
giving an account of the Virginia Adventurers. You 
will not shrink from the idea of giving something more 
than a hundred guineas for a series of Hogarth's 
plates. But when it comes to Number 1001 in the May 
catalogue, and you see that if you would possess a first 
folio Shakespeare, "untouched by the hand of any 
modern renovator," you must be prepared to pay seven 
hundred and eighty-five pounds, almost four thousand 
dollars, for the volume, it would not be surprising if 
you changed color and your knees shook under you. 
No doubt some brave man will be found to carry off 
that prize, in spite of the golden battery which defends 
it, perhaps to Cincinnati, or Chicago, or San Fran- 
cisco. But do not be frightened. These Alpine 
heights of extravagance climb up from the humble 
valley where shillings and sixpences are all that are 
required to make you a purchaser. 
One beauty of the Old World shops is that if a vis- 
itor comes back to the place where he left them fifty 
years before, he finds them, or has a great chance of 150 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
finding them, just where they stood at his former visit. 
In driving down to the old city, to the place of busi- 
ness of the Barings, I found many streets little changed. 
Temple Bar was gone, and the much-abused griffin 
stood in its place. There was a shop close to Temple 
Bar, where, in 1834, I had bought some brushes. J. 
had no difficulty in finding Prout's, and I could not 
do less than go in and buy some more brushes. I did 
not ask the young man who served me how the old 
shopkeeper who attended to my wants on the earlier 
occasion was at this time. But I thought what a dif- 
ferent color the locks these brushes smooth show from 
those that knew their predecessors in the earlier de- 
cade! 
I ought to have made a second visit to the Tower, 
so tenderly spoken of by Artemus Ward as "a sweet 
boon," so vividly remembered by me as the scene of a 
personal encounter with one of the animals then kept 
in the Tower menagerie. But the project added a 
stone to the floor of the underground thoroughfare 
which is paved with good intentions. 
St. Paul's I must and did visit. The most striking 
addition since I was there is the massive monument to 
the Duke of Wellington. The great temple looked 
rather bare and unsympathetic. Poor Dr. Johnson, 
sitting in semi-nude exposure, looked to me as un- 
happy as our own half-naked Washington at the na- 
tional capital. The Judas of Matthew Arnold's poem 
would have cast his cloak over those marble shoulders, 
if he had found himself in St. Paul's, and have earned 
another respite. We brought away little, I fear, ex- 
cept the grand effect of the dome as we looked up at 
it. It gives us a greater idea of height than the sky 
itself, which we have become used to looking upon. 151 
A second visit to the National Gallery was made in 
company with A . It was the repetition of an at- 
tempt at a draught from the Cup of Tantalus. I was 
glad of a sight of the Botticellis, of which I had heard 
so much, and others of the more recently acquired 
paintings of the great masters; of a sweeping glance 
at the Turners; of a look at the well-remembered 
Hogarths and the memorable portraits by Sir Joshua. 
I carried away a confused mass of impressions, much 
as the soldiers that sack a city go off with all the pre- 
cious things they can snatch up, huddled into clothes- 
bags and pillow-cases. I am reminded, too, of Mr. 
Galton's composite portraits; a thousand glimpses, as 
one passes through the long halls lined with paintings, 
all blending in one not unpleasing general effect, out 
of which emerges from time to time some single dis- 
tinct image. 
In the same way we passed through the exhibition 
of paintings at the Royal Academy. I noticed that 
A paid special attention to the portraits of young 
ladies by John Sargent and by Collier, while I was 
more particularly struck with the startling portrait of 
an ancient personage in a full suit of wrinkles, such 
as Rembrandt used to bring out with wonderful effect. 
Hunting in couples is curious and instructive; the 
scent for this or that kind of game is sure to be very 
different in the two individuals. 
I made but two brief visits to the British Museum, 
and I can easily instruct my reader so that he will have 
no difficulty, if he will follow my teaching, in learning 
how not to see it. When he has a spare hour at his 
disposal, let him drop in at the Museum, and wander 
among its books and its various collections. He will 
know as much about it as the fly that buzzes in at one 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 152 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
window and out at another. If I were asked whether 
I brought away anything from my two visits, I should 
say, Certainly I did. The fly sees some things, not 
very intelligently, but he cannot help seeing them. 
The great round reading-room, with its silent students, 
impressed me very much. I looked at once for the 
Elgin Marbles, but casts and photographs and engrav- 
ings had made me familiar with their chief features. 
I thought I knew something of the sculptures brought 
from Nineveh, but I was astonished, almost awe-struck, 
at the sight of those mighty images which mingled with 
the visions of the Hebrew prophets. I did not marvel 
more at the skill and labor expended upon them by the 
Assyrian artists than I did at the enterprise and auda- 
city which had brought them safely from the mounds 
under which they were buried to the light of day and 
the heart of a great modern city. I never thought that 
I should live to see the Birs Nimroud laid open, and 
the tablets in which the history of Nebuchadnezzar was 
recorded spread before me. The Empire of the Spade 
in the world of history was founded at Nineveh by 
Layard, a great province added to it by Schliemann, 
and its boundary extended by numerous explorers, 
some of whom are diligently at work at the present 
day. I feel very grateful that many of its revelations 
have been made since I have been a tenant of the trav- 
elling residence which holds so many secrets in its 
recesses. 
There is one lesson to be got from a visit of an hour 
or two to the British Museum, - namely, the fathom- 
less abyss of our own ignorance. One is almost 
ashamed of his little paltry heartbeats in the presence 
of the rushing and roaring torrent of Niagara. So if 
he has published a little book or two, collected a few OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
153 
fossils, or coins, or vases, he is crushed by the vast- 
ness of the treasures in the library and the collections 
of this universe of knowledge. 
I have shown how not to see the British museum; 
I will tell how to see it. 
Take lodgings next door to it, - in a garret, if you 
cannot afford anything better, - and pass all youi 
days at the Museum during the whole period of your 
natural life. At threescore and ten you will have 
some faint conception of the contents, significance, and 
value of this great British institution, which is as 
nearly as any one spot the noeud vital of human civili- 
zation, a stab at which by the dagger of anarchy would 
fitly begin the reign of chaos. 
On the 3d of August, a gentleman, Mr. Wedmore, 
who had promised to be my guide to certain interest- 
ing localities, called for me, and we took a hansom 
for the old city. The first place we visited was the 
Temple, a collection of buildings with intricate pas- 
sages between them, some of the edifices reminding 
me of our college dormitories. One, however, was a 
most extraordinary exception, - the wonderful Temple 
church, or rather the ancient part of it which is left, 
the round temple. We had some trouble to get into 
it, but at last succeeded in finding a slip of a girl, the 
daughter of the janitor, who unlocked the door for us. 
It affected my imagination strangely to see this girl 
of a dozen years old, or thereabouts, moving round 
among the monuments which had kept their place 
there for some six or seven hundred years; for the 
church was built in the year 1185, and the most recent 
of the crusaders' monuments is said to date as far 
back as 1241. Their effigies have lain in this vast 
city, and passed unharmed through all its convulsions. 154 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
The Great Fire must have crackled very loud in their 
stony ears, and they must have shaken day and night, 
as the bodies of the victims of the Plague were rattled 
over the pavements. 
Near the Temple church, in a green spot among the 
buildings, a plain stone laid flat on the turf bears these 
words: "Here lies Oliver Goldsmith." I believe 
doubt has been thrown upon the statement that Gold- 
smith was buried in that place, but, as some poet 
ought to have written, 
Where doubt is disenchantment 
' T is wisdom to believe. 
We do not "drop a tear" so often as our Della Crus- 
can predecessors, but the memory of the author of the 
" Vicar of Wakefield " stirred my feelings more than a 
whole army of crusaders would have done. A pretty 
rough set of filibusters they were, no doubt. 
The whole group to which Goldsmith belonged came 
up before me, and as the centre of that group the great 
Dr. Johnson; not the Johnson of the "Rambler," or 
of "The Vanity of Human Wishes," or even of "Ras- 
selas," but Boswell's Johnson, dear to all of us, the 
"Grand Old Man" of his time, whose foibles we care 
more for than for most great men's virtues. Fleet 
Street, which he loved so warmly, was close by. Bolt 
Court, entered from it, where he lived for many of his 
last years, and where he died, was the next place to 
visit. I found Fleet Street a good deal like Wash- 
ington Street as I remember it in former years. When 
I came to the place pointed out as Bolt Court, I could 
hardly believe my eyes that so celebrated a place of 
residence should be entered by so humble a passage- 
way. I was very sorry to find that No. 3, where he 
lived, was demolished, and a new building erected in OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
155 
its place. In one of the other houses in this court he 
is said to have labored on his dictionary. Near by 
was a building of mean aspect, in which Goldsmith is 
said to have at one time resided. But my kind con- 
ductor did not profess to be well acquainted with the 
local antiquities of this quarter of London. 
If I had a long future before me, I should like 
above all things to study London with a dark lantern, 
so to speak, myself in deepest shadow and all I wanted 
to see in clearest light. Then I should want time, 
time, time. For it is a sad fact that sight-seeing as 
commonly done is one of the most wearying things in 
the world, and takes the life out of any but the stur- 
diest or the most elastic natures more efficiently than 
would a reasonable amount of daily exercise on a 
treadmill. In my younger days I used to find that a 
visit to the gallery of the Louvre was followed by more 
fatigue and exhaustion than the same amount of time 
spent in walking the wards of a hospital. 
Another grand sight there was, not to be overlooked, 
namely, the Colonial Exhibition. The popularity of 
this immense show was very great, and we found our- 
selves, A and I, in the midst of a vast throng, 
made up of respectable and comfortable looking peo- 
ple. It was not strange that the multitude flocked to 
this exhibition. There was a jungle, with its (stuffed) 
monsters, - tigers, serpents, elephants; there were 
carvings which may well have cost a life apiece, and 
stuffs which none but an empress or a millionairess 
would dare to look at. All the arts of the East were 
there in their perfection, and some of the artificers 
were at their work. We had to content ourselves 
with a mere look at all these wonders. It was a pity; 
instead of going to these fine shows tired, sleepy, want- 156 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
ing repose more than anything else, we should have 
come to them fresh, in good condition, and had many 
days at our disposal. I learned more in a visit to the 
Japanese exhibition in Boston than I should have 
learned in half a dozen half-awake strolls through this 
multitudinous and most imposing collection of all 
" The gorgeous East with richest hand 
Showers on her kings," 
and all the masterpieces of its wonder-working arth 
sans. 
One of the last visits we paid before leaving Lon- 
don for a week in Paris was to the South Kensington 
Museum. Think of the mockery of giving one hour 
to such a collection of works of art and wonders of all 
kinds! Why should I consider it worth while to say 
that we went there at all? All manner of objects 
succeeded each other in a long series of dissolving 
views, so to speak, nothing or next to nothing having 
a chance to leave its individual impress. In the bat- 
tle for life which took place in my memory, as it al- 
ways does among the multitude of claimants for a per- 
manent hold, I find that two objects came out surviv- 
ors of the contest. The first is the noble cast of the 
column of Trajan, vast in dimensions, crowded with 
history in its most striking and enduring form; a long 
array of figures representing in unquestioned realism 
the military aspect of a Roman army. The second 
case of survival is thus described in the catalogue: 
"An altar or shrine of a female saint, recently ac- 
quired from Padua, is also ascribed to the same sculp- 
tor [Donatello]. This very valuable work of art had 
for many years been used as a drinking-trough for 
horses. A hole has been roughly pierced in it." I 
thought the figure was the most nearly perfect image 157 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
of heavenly womanhood that I had ever looked upon, 
and I could have gladly given my whole hour to sit- 
ting - I could almost say kneeling - before it in 
silent contemplation. I found the curator of the Mu- 
seum, Mr. Soden Smith, shared my feelings with ref- 
erence to the celestial loveliness of this figure. Which 
is best, to live in a country where such a work of art 
is taken for a horse-trough, or in a country where the 
products from the studio of a self-taught handicrafts- 
man, equal to the shaping of a horse-trough and not 
much more, are put forward as works of art? 
A little time before my visit to England, before I 
had even thought of it as a possibility, I had the honor 
of having two books dedicated to me by two English 
brother physicians One of these two gentlemen was 
Dr. Walshe, of whom I shall speak hereafter; the 
other was Dr. J. Milner Fothergill. The name Foth- 
ergill was familiar to me from my boyhood. My old 
townsman, Dr. Benjamin Waterhouse, who died in 
1846 at the age of ninety-two, had a great deal to say 
about his relative Dr. John Fothergill, the famous 
Quaker physician of the last century, of whom Benja- 
min Franklin said, "I can hardly conceive that a bet- 
ter man ever existed." Dr. and Mrs. Fothergill sent 
us some beautiful flowers a little before we left, and 
when I visited him he gave me a medallion of his cele- 
brated kinsman. 
London is a place of mysteries. Looking out of one 
of the windows at the back of Dr. Fothergill's house, 
I saw an immense wooden blind, such as we have on 
our windows in summer, but reaching from the ground 
as high as the top of the neighboring houses. While 
admitting the air freely, it shut the property to which 
it belonged completely from sight. I asked the mean- 158 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
ing of this extraordinary structure, and learned that 
it was put up by a great nobleman, of whose subter- 
ranean palace and strange seclusion I had before heard. 
Common report attributed his unwillingness to be seen 
to a disfiguring malady with which he was said to be 
afflicted. The story was that he was visible only to 
his valet. But a lady of quality, whom I met in this 
country, told me she had seen him, and observed no- 
thing to justify it. These old countries are full of ro- 
mances and legends and diableries of all sorts, in which 
truth and lies are so mixed that one does not know 
what to believe. What happens behind the high walls 
of the old cities is as much a secret as were the doings 
inside the prisons of the Inquisition. 
Little mistakes sometimes cause us a deal of trouble. 
This time it was the presence or absence of a single 
letter which led us to fear that an important package 
destined to America had miscarried. There were two 
gentlemen unwittingly involved in the confusion. On 
inquiring for the package at Messrs. Low, the pub- 
lishers, Mr. Watts, to whom I thought it had been 
consigned, was summoned. lie knew nothing about 
it, had never heard of it, was evidently utterly igno- 
rant of us and our affairs. While we were in trouble 
and uncertainty, our Boston friend, Mr. James R. 
Osgood, came in. "Oh," said he, "it is Mr. Watt 
you want, the agent of a Boston firm," and gave us 
the gentleman's address. I had confounded Mr. 
Watt's name with Mr. Watts's name. "W'at's in 
a name ? " A great deal sometimes. I wonder if I 
shall be pardoned for quoting six lines from one of my 
after-dinner poems of long ago: - 
■- One vague inflection spoils the whole with doubt. 
One trivial letter ruins all, left out; OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
159 
A knot can change a felon into clay, 
A not will save him, spelt without the k ; 
The smallest word has some unguarded spot, 
And danger lurks in i without a dot. 
I should find it hard to account for myself during 
our two short stays in London in the month of August, 
separated by the week we passed in Paris. The fer- 
ment of continued over-excitement, calmed very much 
by our rest in the various places I have mentioned, 
had not yet wholly worked itself off. There was some 
of that everlasting shopping to be done. There were 
photographs to be taken, a call here and there to be 
made, a stray visitor now and then, a walk in the 
morning to get back the use of the limbs which had 
been too little exercised, and a drive every afternoon 
to one of the parks, or the Thames Embankment, or 
other locality. After all this, an honest night's sleep 
served to round out the day, in which little had been 
effected besides making a few purchases, writing a 
few letters, reading the papers, the Boston "Weekly 
Advertiser " among the rest, and making arrange- 
ments for our passage homeward. 
The sights we saw were looked upon for so short a 
time, most of them so very superficially, that I am 
almost ashamed to say that I have been in the midst 
of them and brought home so little. I remind myself 
of my boyish amusement of skipping stones, - throw- 
ing a flat stone so that it shall only touch the water, 
but touch it in half a dozen places before it comes to 
rest beneath the smooth surface. The drives we took 
showed us a thousand objects which arrested our at- 
tention. Every street, every bridge, every building, 
every monument, every strange vehicle, every excep- 
tional personage, was a show which stimulated our 160 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
curiosity. For we had not as yet changed our Boston 
eyes for London ones, and very common sights were 
spectacular and dramatic to us. I remember that one 
of our New England country boys exclaimed, when he 
first saw a block of city dwellings, "Darn it all, whc 
ever see anything like that 'are? Sicha lot o' haouser 
all stuck together! " I must explain that "haousen' 
used in my early days to be as common an expression 
in speaking of houses among our country-folk as its 
phonetic equivalent ever was in Saxony. I felt not 
unlike that country-boy. 
In thinking of how much I missed seeing, I some- 
times have said to myself, "Oh, if the carpet of the 
story in the Arabian Nights would only take me up 
and carry me to London for one week,-just one 
short week, - setting me down fresh from quiet, 
wholesome living, in my usual good condition, and 
bringing me back at the end of it, what a different 
account I could give of my experiences! But it is 
just as well as it is. Younger eyes have studied and 
will study, more instructed travellers have pictured 
and will picture, the great metropolis from a hundred 
different points of view. No person can be said to 
know London. The most that any one can claim is 
that he knows something of it. I am now just going 
to leave it for another great capital, but in my con- 
cluding pages I shall return to Great Britain, and 
give some of the general impressions left by what I 
saw and heard in our mother country. 161 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
VII. 
Straitened as we were for time, it was impossible 
to return home without a glimpse, at least, of Paris. 
Two precious years of my early manhood were spent 
there under the reign of Louis Philippe, king of the 
French, le Hoi Citoyen. I felt that I must look once 
more on the places I knew so well, - once more be- 
fore shutting myself up in the world of recollections. 
It is hardly necessary to say that a lady can always 
find a little shopping, and generally a good deal of it, 
to do in Paris. So it was not difficult to persuade my 
daughter that a short visit to that city was the next 
step to be taken. 
We left London on the 5th of August to go via 
Folkestone and Boulogne. The passage across the 
Channel was a very smooth one, and neither of us suf- 
fered any inconvenience. Boulogne as seen from the 
landing did not show to great advantage. I fell to 
thinking of Brummel, and what a satisfaction it would 
have been to treat him to a good dinner, and set him 
talking about the days of the Regency. Boulogne was 
all Brummel in my associations, just as Calais was 
all Sterne. I find everywhere that it is a distinctive 
personality which makes me want to linger round a 
spot, more than an important historical event. There 
is not much worth remembering about Brummel; but 
his audacity, his starched neckcloth, his assumptions 
and their success, make him a curious subject for the 
student of human nature. 
Leaving London at twenty minutes before ten in the 
forenoon, we arrived in Paris at six in the afternoon. 
I could not say that the region of France through which 162 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
we passed was peculiarly attractive. I saw no fine 
trees, no pretty cottages, like those so common in 
England. There was little which an artist would be 
tempted to sketch, or a traveller by the railroad would 
be likely to remember. 
The place where we had engaged lodgings was Hotel 
d'Orient, in the Rue Daunou. The situation was con- 
venient, very near the Place Vendome and the Rue de 
la Paix. But the house was undergoing renovations 
which made it as unpresentable as a moulting fowl. 
Scrubbing, painting of blinds, and other perturbing 
processes did all they could to make it uncomfortable. 
The courtyard was always sloppy, and the whole con- 
dition of things reminded me forcibly of the state of 
Mr. Briggs's household while the mason was carrying 
out the complex operations which began with the appli- 
cation of "a little compo." (I hope all my readers 
remember Mr. Briggs, whose adventures as told by 
the pencil of John Leech are not unworthy of compar- 
ison with those of Mr. Pickwick as related by Dick- 
ens.) Barring these unfortunate conditions, the hotel 
was commendable, and when in order would be a desir- 
able place of temporary residence. 
It was the dead season of Paris, and everything had 
the air of suspended animation. The solitude of the 
Place Vendome was something oppressive; I felt, as 
I trod its lonely sidewalk, as if I were wandering 
through Tadmor in the Desert. We were indeed as 
remote, as unfriended, - I will not say as melancholy 
or as slow, - as Goldsmith by the side of the lazy 
Scheldt or the wandering Po. Not a soul did either 
of us know in that great city. Our most intimate rela- 
tions were with the people of the hotel and with the 
drivers of the fiacres. These last were a singular look- 163 
ing race of beings. Many of them had a dull red com- 
plexion, almost brick color, which must have some 
general cause. I questioned whether the red wine 
could have something to do with it. They wore glazed 
hats, and drove shabby vehicles for the most part; 
their horses would not compare with those of the Lon- 
don hansom drivers, and they themselves were not gen- 
erally inviting in aspect, though we met with no inci- 
vility from any of them. One, I remember, was very 
voluble, and over-explained everything, so that we 
became afraid to ask him a question. They were fel- 
low-creatures with whom one did not naturally enter 
into active sympathy, and the principal point of inter- 
est about the fiacre and its arrangements was whether 
the horse was fondest of trotting or of walking. In 
one of our drives we made it a point to call upon our 
Minister, Mr. McLane, but he was out of town. We 
did not bring a single letter, but set off exactly as if 
we were on a picnic. 
While A and her attendant went about making 
their purchases, I devoted myself to the sacred and 
pleasing task of reviving old memories. One of the 
first places I visited was the house I lived in as a stu- 
dent, which in my English friend's French was desig- 
nated as "Noomero sankont sank Roo Monshure ler 
Pranse." I had been told that the whole region there- 
about had been transformed by the creation of a new 
boulevard. I did not find it so. There was the house, 
the lower part turned into a shop, but there were the 
windows out of which I used to look along the Rue 
Vaugirard, - au troisieme the first year, au second 
the second year. Why should I go mousing about the 
place? What would the shopkeeper know about M. 
Bertrand, my landlord of half a century ago; or his 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 164 
first wife, to whose funeral I went; or his second, to 
whose bridal I was bidden? 
I ought next to have gone to the hospital La Pitie, 
where I passed much of my time during those two 
years. But the people there would not know me, and 
my old master's name, Louis, is but a dim legend in 
the wards where he used to teach his faithful band 
of almost worshipping students. Besides, I have not 
been among hospital beds for many a year, and my 
sensibilities are almost as impressible as they were 
before daily habit had rendered them comparatively 
callous. 
How strange it is to look down on one's venerated 
teachers, after climbing with the world's progress half 
a century above the level where we left them ' The 
stethoscope was almost a novelty in those days. The 
microscope was never mentioned by any clinical in- 
structor I listened to while a medical student. Nous 
avons change tout cela is true of every generation 
in medicine, - changed oftentimes by improvement, 
sometimes by fashion or the pendulum-swing from one 
extreme to another. 
On my way back from the hospital I used to stop at 
the beautiful little church St. Etienne du Mont, and 
that was one of the first places to which I drove after 
looking at my student-quarters. All was just as of 
old. The tapers were burning about the tomb of St. 
Genevieve. Samson, with the jawbone of the ass, still 
crouched and sweated, oi' looked as if he did, under the 
weight of the pulpit. One might question how well 
the preacher in the pulpit liked the suggestion of the 
figure beneath it. The sculptured screen and gallery, 
the exquisite spiral stairways, the carved figures about 
the organ, the tablets on the walls, - one in particular 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
165 
relating the fall of two young girls from the gallery, 
and their miraculous protection from injury,-all 
these images found their counterpart in my memory. 
I did not remember how very beautiful is the stained 
glass in the charniers^ which must not be overlooked 
by visitors. 
It is not far from St. Etienne du Mont to the Pan- 
theon. I cannot say that there is any odor of sanctity 
about this great temple, which has been consecrated, 
if I remember correctly, and, I will not say dese- 
crated, but secularized from time to time, according 
to the party which happened to be uppermost. I con- 
fess that I did not think of it chiefly as a sacred edi- 
fice, or as the resting-place, more or less secure, of the 
"grands hommes" to whom it is dedicated. I was 
thinking much more of Foucault's grand experiment, 
one of the most sublime visible demonstrations of a 
great physical fact in the records of science. The 
reader may not happen to remember it, and will like, 
perhaps, to be reminded of it. Foucault took advan- 
tage of the height of the dome, nearly three hundred 
feet, and had a heavy weight suspended by a wire 
from its loftiest point, forming an immense pendu- 
lum, - the longest, I suppose, ever constructed. 
Now a moving body tends to keep its original plane of 
movement, and so the great pendulum, being set swing- 
ing north and south, tended to keep on in the same 
direction. But the earth was moving under it, and as 
it rolled from west to east the plane running through 
the north and south poles was every instant changing„ 
Thus the pendulum appeared to change its direction, 
and its deviation was shown on a graduated arc, or by 
the marks it left in a little heap of sand which it 
touched as it swung. This experiment on the great 166 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
scale has since been repeated on the small scale by the 
aid of other contrivances. 
My thoughts wandered back, naturally enough, to 
Galileo in the Cathedral at Pisa. It was the swinging 
of the suspended lamp in that edifice which set his 
mind working on the laws which govern the action of 
the pendulum. While he was meditating on this phys- 
ical problem, the priest may have been holding forth 
on the dangers of meddling with matters settled by 
Holy Church, who stood ready to enforce her edicts 
by the logic of the rack and the fagot. An inference 
from the above remarks is that what one brings from 
a church depends very much on what he carries into it. 
The next place to visit could be no other than the 
Cafe Procope. This famous resort is the most ancient 
and the most celebrated of all the Parisian cafes. Vol- 
taire, the poet J. B. Rousseau, Marmontel, Sainte 
Foix, Saurin, were among its frequenters in the eigh- 
teenth century. It stands in the Rue des Fosses-Saint 
Germain, now Rue de l'Ancienne Comedie. Several 
American students, Bostonians and Philadelphians, 
myself among the number, used to breakfast at this 
cafe every morning. I have no doubt that I met vari- 
ous celebrities there, but I recall only one name which 
is likely to be known to most or many of my readers. 
A delicate-looking man, seated at one of the tables, 
was pointed out to me as Jouffroy. If I had known 
as much about him as I learned afterwards, I should 
have looked at him with more interest. He had one 
of those imaginative natures, tinged by constitutional 
melancholy and saddened by ill health, which belong to 
a certain class of poets and sentimental writers, of 
which Pascal is a good example, and Cowper another. 
The world must have seemed very cruel to him. I OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
167 
remember that when he was a candidate for the Assem- 
bly, one of the popular cries, as reported by the news- 
papers of the time, was A bas le poitrinaire! His 
malady soon laid him low enough, for he died in 1842, 
at the age of forty-six. I must have been very much 
taken up with my medical studies to have neglected 
my opportunity of seeing the great statesmen, authors, 
artists, orators, and men of science outside of the med- 
ical profession. Poisson, Arago, and Jouffroy are all 
I can distinctly recall, among the Frenchmen of emi- 
nence whom I had all around me. 
The Cafe Procope has been much altered and im- 
proved, and bears an inscription telling the date of its 
establishment, which was in the year 1689. I entered 
the cafe, which was nearly or quite empty, the usual 
breakfast hour being past. 
Garmon / Une tasse de eafe. 
If there is a river of mnenie as a counterpart of the 
river lethe, my cup of coffee must have got its water 
from that stream of memory. If I could borrow that 
eloquence of Jouffroy which made his hearers turn 
pale, I might bring up before my readers a long array 
of pallid ghosts, whom these walls knew well in their 
earthly habiliments. Only a single one of those I met 
here still survives. The rest are mostly well-nigh for- 
gotten by all but a few friends, or remembered chiefly 
in their children and grandchildren. 
"How much?" I said to the garcon in his native 
tongue, or what I supposed to be that language. 
" Cinq sous," was his answer. By the laws of senti- 
ment, I ought to have made the ignoble sum five francs, 
at least. But if I had done so, the waiter would un- 
doubtedly have thought that I had just come from 
Charenton. Besides, why should I violate the simple 168 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
habits and traditions of the place, where generation 
after generation of poor students and threadbare Bohe- 
mians had taken their morning coffee and pocketed 
their two lumps of sugar ? It was with a feeling of 
virile sanity and Roman self-conquest that I paid my 
five sous, with the small additional fraction which I 
supposed the waiter to expect, and no more. 
So I passed for the last time over the threshold of 
the Cafe Procope, where Voltaire had matured his 
plays and Piron sharpened his epigrams; where Jouf- 
froy had battled with his doubts and fears; where, 
since their time, - since my days of Parisian life, - 
the terrible storming youth, afterwards renowned as 
Leon Michel Gambetta, had startled the quiet guests 
with his noisy eloquence, till the old habitues spilled 
their coffee, and the red-capped students said to each 
other, "77 ira loin, ce gaillard-la! " 
But what to me were these shadowy figures by the 
side of the group of my early friends and companions, 
that came up before me in all the freshness of their 
young manhood ? The memory of them recalls my own 
youthful days, and I need not go to Florida to bathe 
in the fountain of Ponce de Leon. 
I have sometimes thought that I love so well the 
accidents of this temporary terrestrial residence, its 
endeared localities, its precious affections, its pleasing 
variety of occupation, its alternations of excited and 
gratified curiosity, and whatever else comes nearest to 
the longings of the natural man, that I might be wick- 
edly homesick in a far-off spiritual realm where such 
toys are done with. But there is a pretty lesson which 
I have often meditated, taught, not this time by the 
lilies of the field, but by the fruits of the garden. 
When, in the June honeymoon of the seasons, the 169 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
strawberry shows itself among the bridal gifts, many 
of us exclaim for the hundredth time with Dr. Boteler, 
"Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but 
doubtless God never did." Nature, who is God's 
handmaid, does not attempt a rival berry. But by 
and by a little woolly knob, which looked and saw 
with wonder the strawberry reddening, and perceived 
the fragrance it diffused all around, begins to fill out, 
and grow soft and pulpy and sweet; and at last a glow 
comes to its cheek, and we say the peach is ripening. 
When Nature has done with it, and delivers it to us in 
its perfection, we forget all the lesser fruits which have 
gone before it. If the flavor of the peach and the fra- 
grance of the rose are not found in some fruit and 
flower which grow by the side of the river of life, an 
earth-born spirit might be forgiven for missing them. 
The strawberry and the pink are very delightful, but 
we could be happy without them. 
So, too, we may hope that when the fruits of our 
brief early season of three or four score years have 
given us all they can impart for our happiness; when 
"the love of little maids and berries," and all other 
earthly prettinesses, shall "soar and sing," as Mr. 
Emerson sweetly reminds us that they all must, we 
may hope that the abiding felicities of our later life- 
season may far more than compensate us for all that 
have taken their flight. 
I looked forward with the greatest interest to revis- 
iting the Gallery of the Louvre, accompanied by my 
long-treasured recollections. I retained a vivid re- 
membrance of many pictures, which had been kept 
bright by seeing great numbers of reproductions of 
them in photographs and engravings. 170 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
The first thing which struck me was that the pic- 
tures had been rearranged in such a way that I could 
find nothing in the place where I looked for it. But 
when I found them, they greeted me, so I fancied, 
like old acquaintances. The meek-looking "Belle 
Jardiniere" was as lamb-like as ever; the pearly 
nymph of Correggio invited the stranger's eye as 
frankly as of old; Titian's young man with the glove 
was the calm, self-contained gentleman I used to ad- 
mire; the splashy Rubenses, the pallid Guidos, the 
sunlit Claudes, the shadowy Poussins, the moonlit Gi- 
rardets, Gericault's terrible shipwreck of the Medusa, 
the exquisite home pictures of Gerard Douw and Ter- 
burg, - all these and many more have always been on 
exhibition in my ideal gallery, and I only mention 
them as the first that happen to suggest themselves. 
The Museum of the Hotel Cluny is a curious recep- 
tacle of antiquities, many of which I looked at with 
interest; but they made no lasting impression, and 
have gone into the lumber-room of memory, from 
which accident may, from time to time, drag out some 
few of them. 
After the poor unsatisfactory towers of Westminster 
Abbey, the two massive, noble, truly majestic towers 
of Notre Dame strike the traveller as a crushing con- 
trast. It is not hard to see that one of these grand 
towers is somewhat larger than the other, but the dif- 
ference does not interfere with the effect of the impos- 
ing front of the cathedral. 
I was much pleased to find that I could have en- 
trance to the Sainte Chapelle, which was used, at the 
time of my earlier visit, as a storehouse of judicial 
archives, of which there was a vast accumulation. 
With the exception of my call at the office of the OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
171 
American Legation, I made but a single visit to any 
person in Paris. That person was M. Pasteur. 1 
might have carried a letter to him, for my friend Mrs. 
Priestley is well acquainted with him, but I had not 
thought of asking for one. So I presented myself at 
his headquarters, and was admitted into a courtyard, 
where a multitude of his patients were gathered. They 
were of various ages and of many different national- 
ities, every one of them with the vague terror hanging 
over him or her. Yet the young people seemed to be 
cheerful enough, and very much like scholars out of 
school. I sent my card in to M. Pasteur, who was 
busily engaged in writing, with his clerks or students 
about him, and presently he came out and greeted me. 
I told him I was an American physician, who wished 
to look in his face and take his hand, - nothing more. 
I looked in his face, which was that of a thoughtful, 
hard-worked student, a little past the grand climac- 
teric, - he was born in 1822. I took his hand, which 
has performed some of the most delicate and daring 
experiments ever ventured upon, with results of ahnost 
incalculable benefit to human industries, and the 
promise of triumph in the treatment of human disease 
which prophecy would not have dared to anticipate. 
I will not say that I have a full belief that hydropho- 
bia - in some respects the most terrible of all dis- 
eases - is to be extirpated or rendered tractable by 
his method of treatment. But of his inventive origi- 
nality, his unconquerable perseverance, his devotion 
to the good of mankind, there can be no question. I 
look upon him as one of the greatest experimenters 
that ever lived, one of the truest benefactors of his 
race; and if I made my due obeisance before princes, 
I felt far more humble in the presence of this great 172 
explorer, to whom the God of Nature has entrusted 
some of her most precious secrets. 
There used to be - I can hardly think it still ex- 
ists - a class of persons who prided themselves on 
their disbelief in the reality of any such distinct dis- 
ease as hydrophobia. I never thought it worth while 
to argue with them, for I have noticed that this dis- 
belief is only a special manifestation of a particular 
habit of mind. Its advocates will be found, I think, 
most frequently among " the long - haired men and 
the short-haired women." Many of them dispute the 
efficacy of vaccination. Some are disciples of Hahne- 
mann, some have full faith in the mind-cure, some 
attend the seances where flowers (bought from the 
nearest florist) are materialized, and some invest their 
money in Mrs. Howe's Bank of Benevolence. Their 
tendency is to reject the truth which is generally ac- 
cepted, and to accept the improbable; if the impossi- 
ble offers itself, they deny the existence of the impos- 
sible. Argument with this class of minds is a lever 
without a fulcrum. 
I was glad to leave that company of patients, still 
uncertain of their fate, - hoping, yet pursued by their 
terror: peasants bitten by mad wolves in Siberia; 
women snapped at by their sulking lap-dogs in Lon- 
don; children from over the water who had been 
turned upon by the irritable Skye terrier; innocent 
victims torn by ill-conditioned curs at the doors of the 
friends they were meaning to visit, - all haunted by 
the same ghastly fear, all starting from sleep in the 
same nightmare. 
If canine rabies is a fearful subject to contemplate, 
there is a sadder and deeper significance in rabies hu- 
mana ; in that awful madness of the human race which 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
173 
is marked by a thirst for blood and a rage for destruc- 
tion. The remembrance of such a distemper which 
has attacked mankind, especially mankind of the Pa- 
risian sub-species, came over me very strongly when I 
first revisited the Place Vendome. I should have sup- 
posed that the last object upon which Parisians would, 
in their wildest frenzy, have laid violent hands would 
have been the column with the figure of Napoleon at 
its summit. We all know what happened in 1871. 
An artist, we should have thought, would be the last 
person to lead the iconoclasts in such an outrage. 
But M. Courbet has attained an immortality like that 
of Erostratus by the part he took in pulling down the 
column. It was restored in 1874. I do not question 
that the work of restoration was well done, but my 
eyes insisted on finding a fault in some of its lines 
which was probably in their own refracting media. 
Fifty years before an artist helped to overthrow the 
monument to the Emperor, a poet had apostrophized 
him in the bitterest satire since the days of Juve- 
nal : - 
"Eneor Napoleon ! encor sa grande image ! 
Ah ! que ce rude et dur guerrier 
Nous a coute de sang et de pleurs et d'outrage 
Pour quelques rameaux de laurier 1 
" Eh bien ! dans tous ces jours d'abaissement, de peine, 
Pour tous ces outrages sans nom, 
Je n'ai jamais charge qu'un etre de ma haine, . . . 
Sois maudit, O Napoleon ! " 
After looking at the column of the Place Vendome 
and recalling these lines of Barbier, I was ready for 
a visit to the tomb of Napoleon. The poet's curse 
had helped me to explain the painter's frenzy against 174 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
the bronze record of his achievements and the image 
at its summit. But I forgot them both as I stood 
under the dome of the Invalides, and looked upon the 
massive receptacle which holds the dust of the impe- 
rial exile. Two things, at least, Napoleon accom- 
plished : he opened the way for ability of all kinds, 
and he dealt the death-blow to the divine right of kings 
and all the abuses which clung to that superstition. 
If I brought nothing else away from my visit to his 
mausoleum, I left it impressed with what a man can 
be when fully equipped by nature, and placed in cir- 
cumstances where his forces can have full play. 
" How infinite in faculty! ... in apprehension how 
like a god! " Such were my reflections; very much, I 
suppose, like those of the average visitor, and too 
obviously having nothing to require contradiction or 
comment. 
Paris as seen by the morning sun of three or four 
and twenty and Paris in the twilight of the superfluous 
decade cannot be expected to look exactly alike. I 
well remember my first breakfast at a Parisian cafe in 
the spring of 1833. It was in the Place de la Bourse, 
on a beautiful sunshiny morning. The coffee was nec- 
tar, the flute was ambrosia, the brioche was more than 
good enough for the Olympians. Such an experience 
could not repeat itself fifty years later. The first res- 
taurant at which we dined was in the Palais Royal. 
The place was hot enough to cook an egg. Nothing 
was very excellent nor very bad; the wine was not so 
good as they gave us at our hotel in London; the 
enchanter had not waved his wand over our repast, as 
he did over my earlier one in the Place de la Bourse, 
and I had not the slightest desire to pay the gar^on 
thrice his fee on the score of cherished associations. 175 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
We dined at our hotel on some days, at different res- 
taurants on others. One day we dined, and dined 
well, at the old Cafe Anglais, famous in my earlier 
times for its turbot. Another day we took our dinner 
at a very celebrated restaurant on the boulevard. One 
sauce which was served us was a gastronomic sym- 
phony, the harmonies of which were new to me and 
pleasing. But I remember little else of superior excel- 
lence. The gar^on pocketed the franc I gave him with 
the air of having expected a napoleon. 
Into the mysteries of a lady's shopping in Paris I 
would not venture to inquire. But A and I 
strolled together through the Palais Royal in the even- 
ing, and amused ourselves by staring at the glittering 
windows without being severely tempted. Bond Street 
had exhausted our susceptibility to the shop-window 
seduction, and the napoleons did not burn in the pock- 
ets where the sovereigns had had time to cool. 
Nothing looked more nearly the same as of old than 
the bridges. The Pont Neuf did not seem to me 
altered, though we had read in the papers that it was 
in ruins or seriously injured in consequence of a great 
flood. The statues had been removed from the Pont 
Royal, one or two new bridges had been built, but all 
was natural enough, and I was tempted to look for the 
old woman, at the end of the Pont des Arts, who used 
to sell me a bunch of violets, for two or three sous, 
- such as would cost me a quarter of a dollar in Bos- 
ton. I did not see the three objects which a popular 
saying alleges are always to be met on the Pont Neuf: 
a priest, a soldier, and a white horse. 
The weather was hot; we were tired, and did not 
care to go to the theatres, if any of them were open. 
The pleasantest hours were those of our afternoon 176 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
drive in the Champs Elysees and the Bois de Bou- 
logne, - or "the Boulogne Woods," as our American 
tailor's wife of the old time called the favorite place 
for driving. In passing the Place de la Concorde, 
two objects in especial attracted my attention, - the 
obelisk, which was lying, when I left it, in the great 
boat which brought it from the Nile, and the statue of 
Strasbourg, all covered with wreaths and flags. How 
like children these Parisians do act; crying "A Ber- 
lin, a Berlin! " and when Berlin comes to Paris, and 
Strasbourg goes back to her old proprietors, instead of 
taking it quietly, making all this parade of patriotic 
symbols, the display of which belongs to victory rather 
than to defeat! 
I was surprised to find the trees in the Bois de Bou- 
logne so well grown: I had an idea that they had been 
largely sacrificed in the time of the siege. Among 
the objects which deserve special mention are the 
shrieking parrots and other birds and the yelping dogs 
in the grounds of the Society of Acclimatization, - 
out of the range of which the visitor will be glad to 
get as soon as possible. A fountain visited by newly 
married couples and their friends, with a restaurant 
near by, where the bridal party drink the health of the 
newly married pair, was an object of curiosity. An 
unsteadiness of gait was obvious in some of the feast- 
ers. At one point in the middle of the road a maenad 
was flinging her arms about and shrieking as if she 
were just escaped from a madhouse. But the drive 
in the Bois was what made Paris tolerable. There 
were few fine equipages, and few distinguished-looking 
people in the carriages, but there were quiet groups 
by the wayside, seeming happy enough; and now and 
then a pretty face or a wonderful bonnet gave variety Place de la Concorde 177 
to the somewhat bourgeois character of the procession 
of fiacres. 
I suppose I ought to form no opinion at all about 
the aspect of Paris, any more than I should of an 
oyster in a month without an r in it. We were neither 
of us in the best mood for sight-seeing, and Paris was 
not sitting up for company , in fact, she was " not at 
home." Remembering all this, I must say that the 
whole appearance of the city was dull and dreary. 
London out of season seemed still full of life; Paris 
out of season looked vacuous and torpid. The recol- 
lection of the sorrow, the humiliation, the shame, and 
the agony she had passed through since I left her pick- 
ing her way on the arm of the Citizen King, with his 
old riflard over her, rose before me sadly, ominously, 
as I looked upon the high board fence which surrounded 
the ruins of the Tuileries. I can understand the im- 
pulse which led the red caps to make a wreck of this 
grand old historical building. "Pull down the nest," 
they said, "and the birds will not come back." But 
I shudder when I think what " the red fool-fury of the 
Seine " has done and is believed capable of doing. I 
think nothing has so profoundly impressed me as the 
story of the precautions taken to preserve the Venus 
of Milo from the brutal hands of the mob. A little 
more violent access of fury, a little more fiery decla- 
mation, a few more bottles of win bleu, and the Gal- 
lery of the Louvre, with all its treasures of art, com- 
pared with which the crown jewels just sold are but 
pretty pebbles, the market price of which fairly enough 
expresses their value, - much more, rather, than their 
true value, - that noble gallery, with all its master- 
pieces from the hands of Greek sculptors and Italian 
painters, would have been changed in a single night 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 178 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
into a heap of blackened stones and a pile of smoking 
cinders. 
I love to think that now that the people have, or at 
least think they have, the power in their own hands, 
they will outgrow this form of madness, which is 
almost entitled to the name of a Parisian endemic., 
Everything looked peaceable and stupid enough dur- 
ing the week I passed in Paris. But among all the fos- 
sils which Cuvier found in the Parisian basin, nothing 
was more monstrous than the poissardes of the old 
Revolution, or the petroleuses of the recent Commune, 
and I fear that the breed is not extinct. An Ameri- 
can comes to like Paris as warmly as he comes to love 
England, after living in it long enough to become 
accustomed to its ways, and I, like the rest of my coun- 
trymen who remember that France was our friend in 
the hour of need, who remember all the privileges and 
enjoyments she has freely offered us, who feel that as 
a sister republic her destinies are of the deepest inter- 
est to us, can have no other wish than for her con- 
tinued safety, order, and prosperity. 
We returned to London on the 13th of August by 
the same route we had followed in going from London 
to Paris. Our passage was rough, as compared to the 
former one, and some of the passengers were seasick. 
We were both fortunate enough to escape that trial of 
comfort and self-respect. 
I can hardly separate the story of the following week 
from that of the one before we went to Paris. We 
did a little more shopping and saw a few more sights. 
I hope that no reader of mine would suppose that I 
would leave London without seeing Madame Tussaud's 
exhibition. Our afternoon drives made us familiar 
with many objects which I always looked upon with OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
179 
pleasure. There was the obelisk, brought from Egypt 
at the expense of a distinguished and successful medi- 
cal practitioner, Sir Erasmus Wilson, the eminent 
dermatologist and author of a manual of anatomy 
which for many years was my favorite text-book. 
There was "The Monument," which characterizes itself 
by having no prefix to its generic name. I enjoyed 
looking at and driving round it, and thinking over 
Pepys's lively account of the Great Fire, and specu- 
lating as to where Pudding Lane and Pie Corner stood, 
and recalling Pope's lines which I used to read at 
school, wondering what was the meaning of the sec- 
ond one: - 
" Where London's column, pointing to the skies 
Like a tall bully, lifts its head and lies." 
The week passed away rapidly enough, and we made 
ready for our departure. It was no easy matter to 
get a passage home, but we had at last settled it that 
we would return in the same vessel in which we had at 
first engaged our passage to Liverpool, the Catalonia. 
But we were fortunate enough to have found an active 
and efficient friend in our townsman, Mr. Montgom- 
ery Sears, who procured staterooms for us in a much 
swifter vessel, to sail on the 21st for New York, the 
Aurania. 
Our last visitor in London was the faithful friend 
who had been the first to welcome us, Lady Harcourt, 
in whose kind attentions I felt the warmth of my old 
friendship with her admired and honored father and 
her greatly beloved mother. I had recently visited 
their place of rest in the Kensal Green Cemetery, 
recalling with tenderest emotions the many years in 
which I had enjoyed their companionship. 
On the 19th of August we left London for Liver- 180 
pool, and on our arrival took lodgings at the Adelphi 
Hotel. 
The kindness with which I had been welcomed, when 
I first arrived at Liverpool, had left a deep impression 
upon my mind. It seemed very ungrateful to leave 
that noble city, which had met me in some of its most 
esteemed representatives with a warm grasp of the 
hand even before my foot had touched English soil, 
without staying to thank my new friends, who would 
have it that they were old friends. But I was entirely 
unfit for enjoying any company when I landed. I took 
care, therefore, to allow sufficient time in Liverpool, 
before sailing for home, to meet such friends, old and 
recent, as cared to make or renew acquaintance with 
me. In the afternoon of the 20th we held a reception, 
at which a hundred visitors, more or less, presented 
themselves, and we had a very sociable hour or two 
together. The Vice-Consul, Mr. Sewall, in the 
enforced absence of his principal, Mr. Russell, paid us 
every attention, and was very agreeable. In the even- 
ing I was entertained at a great banquet given by the 
Philomathean Society. This flourishing institution 
enrolls among its members a large proportion of the 
most cultivated and intelligent gentlemen of Liver- 
pool. I enjoyed the meeting very highly, listened to 
pleasant things which were said about myself, and 
answered in the unpremeditated words which came to 
my lips and were cordially received. I could have 
wished to see more of Liverpool, but I found time only 
to visit the great exhibition, then open. The one 
class of objects which captivated my attention was the 
magnificent series of models of steamboats and other 
vessels. I did not look upon them with the eye of an 
expert, but the great number and variety of these 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 181 
beautiful miniature ships and boats excited my admi- 
ration. 
On the 21st of August we went on board the Aura- 
nia. Everything was done to make us comfortable. 
Many old acquaintances, friends, and family connec- 
tions were our fellow-passengers. As for myself, I 
passed through the same trying experiences as those 
which I have recorded as characterizing my outward 
passage. Our greatest trouble during the passage was 
from fog. The frequency of collisions, of late years, 
tends to make everybody nervous when they hear the 
fog-whistle shrieking. This sound and the sight of 
the boats are not good for timid people. Fortunately, 
no one was particularly excitable, or if so, no one 
betrayed any special uneasiness. 
On the evening of the 27th we had an entertain- 
ment, in which Miss Kellogg sang and I read several 
poems. A very pretty sum was realized for some 
charity, - I forget what, - and the affair was voted 
highly successful. The next day, the 28th, we were 
creeping towards our harbor through one of those 
dense fogs which are more dangerous than the old 
rocks of the sirens, or Scylla and Charybdis, or the 
much-lied-about maelstrom. 
On Sunday, the 29th of August, my birthday, we 
arrived in New York. In these days of birthday- 
books our chronology is not a matter of secret history, 
in case we have been much before the public. I found 
a great cake had been made ready for me, in which 
the number of my summers was represented by a ring 
of raisins which made me feel like Methuselah. A 
beautiful bouquet which had been miraculously pre- 
served for the occasion was for the first time displayed. 
It came from Dr. Beach, of Boston, via London. Such 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 182 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
is the story, and I can only suppose that the sweet lit- 
tle cherub who sits up aloft had taken special charge 
of it, or it would have long ago withered. 
We slept at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, which we found 
fresh, sweet, bright, - it must have been recently 
rejuvenated, I thought. The next day we took the 
train for New Haven, Springfield, and Boston, and 
that night slept in our own beds, thankful to find 
ourselves safe at home after our summer excursion, 
which had brought us so many experiences delightful 
to remember, so many friendships which have made 
life better worth living. 
In the following section I shall give some of the 
general impressions which this excursion has left in 
my memory, and a few suggestions derived from them. 
VIII. 
My reader was fairly forewarned that this narrative 
was to be more like a chapter of autobiography than 
the record of a tourist. In the language of philosophy, 
it is written from a subjective, not an objective, point 
of view. It is not exactly a "Sentimental Journey," 
though there are warm passages here and there which 
end with notes of admiration. I remind myself now 
and then of certain other travellers: of Benjamin of 
Tudela, going from the hospitalities of one son of 
Abraham to another; of John Buncle, finding the 
loveliest of women under every roof that sheltered 
him; sometimes, perhaps, of that tipsy rhymester 
whose record of his good and bad fortunes at the hands 
of landlords and landladies is enlivened by an occa- 
sional touch of humor, which makes it palatable to OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
183 
coarse literary feeders. But in truth these papers 
have many of the characteristics of private letters writ- 
ten home to friends. They are, written for friends, 
rather than for a public which cares nothing about the 
writer. I knew that there were many such whom it 
would please to know where the writer went, whom 
he saw and what he saw, and how he was impressed 
by persons and things. 
If I were planning to make a tour of the United 
Kingdom, and could command the service of all the 
wise men I count or have counted among my friends, 
I would go with such a retinue summoned from the 
ranks of the living and the dead as no prince ever car- 
ried with him. I would ask Mr. Lowell to go with 
me among scholars, where I could be a listener; Mr. 
Norton to visit the cathedrals with me; Professor 
Gray to be my botanical oracle; Professor Agassiz to 
be always ready to answer questions about the geolo- 
gical strata and their fossils; Dr. Jeffries Wyman to 
point out and interpret the common objects which pre- 
sent themselves to a sharp-eyed observer; and Mr. 
Boyd Dawkins to pilot me among the caves and cairns. 
Then I should want a better pair of eyes and a better 
pair of ears, and, while I was reorganizing, perhaps a 
quicker apprehension and a more retentive memory; 
in short, a new outfit, bodily and mental. But Nature 
does not care to mend old shoes; she prefers a new 
pair, and a young person to stand in them. 
What a great book one could make, with such aids, 
and how many would fling it down, and take up any- 
thing in preference, provided only that it were short 
enough; even this slight record, for want of some- 
thing shorter! 
Not only did I feel sure that many friends would 184 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
like to read our itinerary, but another motive prompted 
me to tell the simple story of our travels. I could not 
receive such kindness, so great evidences of friendly 
regard, without a strong desire, amounting to a posi- 
tive necessity, for the expression of my grateful sense 
of all that had been done for us. Individually, I felt 
it, of course, as a most pleasing experience. But I 
believed it to have a more important significance as 
an illustration of the cordial feeling existing between 
England and America. I know that many of my 
countrymen felt the attentions paid to me as if they 
themselves shared them with me. I have lived through 
many strata of feeling in America towards England. 
My parents, full-blooded Americans, were both born 
subjects of King George III. Both learned in their 
early years to look upon Britons as the enemies of their 
country. A good deal of the old hostility lingered 
through my boyhood, and this was largely intensified 
by the war of 1812. After nearly half a century this 
feeling had in great measure subsided, when the War 
of Secession called forth expressions of sympathy with 
the slaveholding States which surprised, shocked, and 
deeply wounded the lovers of liberty and of England 
in the Northern States. A new generation is out- 
growing that alienation. More and more tho older 
and younger nations are getting to be proud and 
really fond of each other. There is no shorter road 
to a mother's heart than to speak pleasantly to her 
child, and caress it, and call it pretty names. No 
matter whether the child is something remarkable or 
not, it is her child, and that is enough. It may be 
made too much of, but that is not its mother's fault. 
If I could believe that every attention paid me was 
due simply to my being an American, I should feel OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
185 
honored and happy in being one of the humbler media 
through which the good-will of a great and generous 
country reached the heart of a far-off people not always 
in friendly relations with her. 
I have named many of the friends who did every- 
thing to make our stay in England and Scotland 
agreeable. The unforeseen shortening of my visit must 
account for many disappointments to myself, and 
some, it may be, to others. 
First in the list of lost opportunities was that of 
making my bow to the Queen. I had the honor of 
receiving a card with the invitation to meet Her Ma- 
jesty at a garden-party, but we were travelling when 
it was sent, and it arrived too late. 
I was very sorry not to meet Mr. Ruskin, to whom 
Mr. Norton had given me a note of introduction. At 
the time when we were hoping to see him it was 
thought that he was too ill to receive visitors, but he 
has since written me that he regretted we did not carry 
out our intention. I lamented my being too late to 
see once more two gentlemen from whom I should have 
been sure of a kind welcome, - Lord Houghton and 
Dean Stanley, both of whom I had met in Boston. 
Even if I had stayed out the whole time I had intended 
to remain abroad, I should undoubtedly have failed to 
see many persons and many places that I must always 
feel sorry for having missed. But as it is, I will not 
try to count all that I lost; let me rather be thank- 
ful that I met so many friends whom it was a pleasure 
to know personally, and saw so much that it is a pleas- 
ure to remember. 
I find that many of the places I most wish to see are 
those associated with the memory of some individual, 
generally one of the generations more or less in ad- 186 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
vance of my own. One of the first places I should go 
to, in a leisurely tour, would be Selborne. Gilbert 
White was not a poet, neither was he a great system- 
atic naturalist. But he used his eyes on the world 
about him; he found occupation and happiness in his 
daily walks, and won as large a measure of immortal- 
ity within the confines of his little village as he could 
have gained in exploring the sources of the Nile. I 
should make a solemn pilgrimage to the little town 
of Eyam, in Derbyshire, where the Reverend Mr. 
Mompesson, the hero of the plague of 1665, and his 
wife, its heroine and its victim, lie buried. I should 
like to follow the traces of Cowper at Olney and of 
Bunyan at Elstow. I found an intense interest in the 
Reverend Mr. Alger's account of his visit to the Vale 
of Llangollen, where Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss 
Ponsonby passed their peaceful days in long, uninter- 
rupted friendship. Of course the haunts of Burns, 
the home of Scott, the whole region made sacred by 
Wordsworth and the group to which he belongs would 
be so many shrines to which I should make pilgrim- 
ages. 
I own, also, to having something of the melodra- 
matic taste so notable in Victor Hugo. I admired 
the noble facade of Wells cathedral and the grand old 
episcopal palace, but I begged the bishop to show me 
the place where his predecessor, Bishop Kidder, and 
his wife, were killed by the falling chimney in the 
"Great Storm." - I wanted to go to Devizes, and see 
the monument in the market-place, where Ruth Pierce 
was struck dead with a lie in her mouth, - about all 
which I had read in early boyhood. I contented my- 
self with a photograph of it which my friend, Mr. 
Willett, went to Devizes and bought for me. 187 
There are twenty different Englands, every one of 
which it would be a delight to visit, and I should 
hardly know with which of them to begin. 
The few remarks I have to make on what I saw and 
heard have nothing beyond the value of first impres- 
sions; but as I have already said, if these are simply 
given, without pretending to be anything more, they 
are not worthless. At least they can do little harm, 
and may sometimes amuse a reader whom they fail to 
instruct. But we must all beware of hasty conclu- 
sions. If a foreigner of limited intelligence were 
whirled through England on the railways, he would 
naturally come to the conclusion that the chief product 
of that country is mustard, and that its most cele- 
brated people are Mr. Keen and Mr. Colman, whose 
great advertising boards, yellow letters on a black 
ground, and black letters on a yellow ground, stare 
the traveller in the face at every station. 
Of the climate, as I knew it in May and the sum- 
mer months, I will only say that if I had any illusions 
about May and June in England, my fireplace would 
have been ample evidence that I was entirely disen- 
chanted. The Derby day, the 26th of May, was most 
chilly and uncomfortable; at the garden-party at Ken- 
sington Palace, on the 4th of June, it was cold enough 
to make hot drinks and warm wraps a comfort, if not 
a necessity. I was thankful to have passed through 
these two ordeals without ill consequences. Drizzly, 
or damp, or cold, cloudy days were the rule rather 
than the exception, while we were in London. We 
had some few hot days, especially at Stratford, in the 
early part of July. In London an umbrella is as 
often carried as a cane; in Paris "wn homme a para- 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 188 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
pluie " is, or used to be, supposed to carry that useful 
article because he does not keep and cannot hire a car- 
riage of some sort. He may therefore be safely con- 
sidered a person, and not a personage. 
The soil of England does not seem to be worn out, 
to judge by the wonderful verdure and the luxuriance 
of vegetation. It contains a great museum of geologi- 
cal specimens, and a series of historical strata which 
are among the most instructive of human records. I 
do not pretend to much knowledge of geology. The 
most interesting geological objects in our New Eng- 
land that I can think of are the great boulders and 
the scratched and smoothed surface of the rocks; 
the fossil footprints in the valley of the Connecticut; 
the trilobites found at Quincy. But the readers of 
Hugh Miller remember what a variety of fossils he 
found in the stratified rocks of his little island, and 
the museums are full of just such objects. When it 
comes to underground historical relics, the poverty of 
New England as compared with the wealth of Old Eng- 
land is very striking. Stratum after stratum carries 
the explorer through the relics of successive invaders. 
After passing through the characteristic traces of dif- 
ferent peoples, he comes upon a Roman pavement, 
and below this the weapons and ornaments of a tribe 
of ancient Britons. One cannot strike a spade into 
the earth, in Great Britain, without a fair chance of 
some surprise in the form of a Saxon coin, or a Cel- 
tic implement, or a Roman fibula. Nobody expects 
any such pleasing surprise in a New England field. 
One must be content with an Indian arrowhead or two, 
now and then a pestle and mortar, or a stone pipe. A 
top dressing of antiquity is ail he can look for. The 
soil is not humanized enough to be interesting; whereas OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
189 
in England so much of it has been trodden by human 
feet, built on in the form of human habitations, nay, 
has been itself a part of preceding generations of 
human beings, that it is in a kind of dumb sympathy 
with those who tread its turf. Perhaps it is not liter- 
ally true that 
One half her soil has walked the rest 
In poets, heroes, martyrs, sages ; 
but so many of all these lie within it that the whole 
mother island is a campo santo to all who can claim 
the same blood as that which runs in the veins of her 
unweaned children. 
The flora and fauna of a country, as seen from rail- 
road trains and carriages, are not likely to be very 
accurately or exhaustively studied. I spoke of the 
trees I noticed between Chester and London somewhat 
slightingly. But I did not form any hasty opinions 
from what happened to catch my eye. Afterwards, in 
the oaks and elms of Windsor Park, in the elms of 
Cambridge and Oxford and Salisbury, in the lindens 
of Stratford, in the various noble trees, including the 
cedar of Lebanon, in which Tennyson very justly felt a 
pride as their owner, I saw enough to make me glad 
that I had not uttered any rash generalizations on the 
strength of my first glance. The most interesting com- 
parison I made was between the New England and the 
Old England elms. It is not necessary to cross the 
ocean to do this, as we have both varieties growing side 
by side in our parks, - on Boston Common, for in- 
stance. It is wonderful to note how people will lie 
about big trees. There must be as many as a dozen 
trees, each of which calls itself the "largest elm in 
New England." In my younger days, when I never 190 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
travelled without a measuring-tape in my pocket, it 
amused me to see how meek one of the great swagger- 
ing elms would look when it saw the fatal measure 
begin to unreel itself. It seemed to me that the 
leaves actually trembled as the inexorable band encir- 
cled the trunk in the smallest place it could find^ 
which is the only safe rule. The English elm ( Ulmus 
campestris') as we see it in Boston comes out a little 
earlier perhaps, than our own, but the difference is 
slight. It holds its leaves long after our elms are bare. 
It grows upward, with abundant dark foliage, while 
ours spreads, sometimes a hundred and twenty feet, 
and often droops like a weeping willow. The Eng- 
lish elm looks like a much more robust tree than ours, 
yet they tell me it is very fragile, and that its limbs 
are constantly breaking off in high winds, just as hap- 
pens with our native elms. Ours is not a very long- 
lived tree; between two and three hundred years is, I 
think, the longest life that can be hoped for it. Since 
I have heard of the fragility of the English elm, which 
is the fatal fault of our own, I have questioned whether 
it can claim a greater longevity than ours. There is 
a hint of a typical difference in the American and the 
Englishman which I have long recognized in the two 
elms as compared to each other. It may be fanciful, 
but I have thought that the compactness and robust- 
ness about the English elm, which are replaced by the 
long, tapering limbs and willowy grace and far- 
spreading reach of our own, might find a certain par- 
allelism in the people, especially the females of the 
two countries. 
I saw no horse-chestnut trees equal to those I remem- 
ber in Salem, and especially to one in Rockport, which 
is the largest and finest I have ever seen; no willows 
like those I pass in my daily drives. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
191 
On the other hand, I think I never looked upon a 
Lombardy poplar equal to one I saw in Cambridge, 
England. This tree seems to flourish in England 
much more than with us. 
I do not remember any remarkable beeches, though 
there are some very famous ones, especially the Burn- 
ham beeches. 
No apple-trees I saw in England compare with one 
next my own door, and there are many others as fine 
in the neighborhood. 
I have spoken of the pleasure I had in seeing by the 
roadside primroses, cowslips, and daisies. Dande- 
lions, buttercups, hawkweed looked much as ours do 
at home. Wild roses also grew at the roadside, - 
smaller and paler, I thought, than ours. 
I cannot make a chapter like the famous one on Ice- 
land, from my own limited observation: There, are 
no snakes in England. I can say that I found two 
small caterpillars on my overcoat, in coming from Lord 
Tennyson's grounds. If they had stayed on his prem- 
ises, they might perhaps have developed into "purple 
emperors," or spread "the tiger moth's deep damasked 
wings " before the enraptured eyes of the noble poet. 
These two caterpillars and a few house-flies are all I 
saw, heard, or felt, by day or night, of the native fauna 
of England, except a few birds, - rooks, starlings, a 
blackbird, and the larks of Salisbury Plain just as 
they rose; for I lost sight of them almost immediately. 
I neither heard nor saw the nightingales, to my great 
regret. They had been singing at Oxford a short time 
before my visit to that place. The only song I heard 
was that which I have mentioned, the double note of 
the cuckoo. 
England is the paradise of horses. They are bred, 192 
fed, trained, groomed, housed, cared for, in a way to 
remind one of the Houyhnhnms, and strikingly con- 
trasting with the conditions of life among the wretched 
classes whose existence is hardly more tolerable than 
that of those ywa si-human beings under whose name 
it pleased the fierce satirist to degrade humanity. The 
horses that are driven in the hansoms of London are 
the best I have seen in any public conveyance. I can- 
not say as much of those in the four-wheelers. 
Broad streets, sometimes, as in Bond Street, with 
narrow sidewalks; islands for refuge in the middle of 
many of them; deep areas; lofty houses; high walls; 
plants in the windows; frequent open spaces; police- 
men at near intervals, always polite in my experience, 
- such are my recollections of the quarter I most 
frequented. 
Are the English taller, stouter, lustier, ruddier, 
healthier, than our New England people? If I gave 
my impression, I should say that they are. Among 
the wealthier class, tall, athletic-looking men and 
stately, well-developed women are more common, I am 
compelled to think, than with us. I met in company 
at different times five gentlemen, each of whom would 
be conspicuous in any crowd for his stature and pro- 
portions. We could match their proportions, how- 
ever, in the persons of well-known Bostonians. To 
see how it was with other classes, I walked in the 
Strand one Sunday, and noted carefully the men and 
women I met. I was surprised to see how many of 
both sexes were of low stature. I counted in the 
course of a few minutes' walk no less than twenty of 
these little people. I set this experience against the 
other. Neither is convincing. The anthropologists 
will settle the question of man in the Old and in the 
New World before many decades have passed. 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
193 
In walking the fashionable streets of London one 
can hardly fail to be struck with the well-dressed look 
of gentlemen of all ages. The special point in which 
the Londoner excels all other citizens I am conversant 
with is the hat. I have not forgotten Beranger's 
" Quoique lews chapeaux soient bien laids 
*** *** ! moi, j'aime les Anglais ; " 
but in spite of it I believe in the English hat as the 
best thing of its ugly kind. As for the Englishman's 
feeling with reference to it, a foreigner might be par- 
doned for thinking it was his fetich, a North American 
Indian for looking at it as taking the place of his own 
medicine-bag. It is a common thing for the English- 
man to say his prayers into it, as he sits down in his 
pew. Can it be that this imparts a religious character 
to the article? However this may be, the true Lon- 
doner's hat is cared for as reverentially as a High- 
Church altar. Far off its coming shines. I was 
always impressed by the fact that even with us a 
well-bred gentleman in reduced circumstances never 
forgets to keep his beaver well brushed, and I remem- 
ber that long ago I spoke of the hat as the ultimum 
moriens of what we used to call gentility, - the last 
thing to perish in the decay of a gentleman's outfit. 
His hat is as sacred to an Englishman as his beard to 
a Mussulman. 
In looking at the churches and the monuments which 
I saw in London and elsewhere in England, certain 
resemblances, comparisons, parallels, contrasts, and 
suggestions obtruded themselves upon my conscious- 
ness. We have one steeple in Boston which to my 
eyes seems absolutely perfect: that of the Central 
Church, at the corner of Newbury and Berkeley streets. 194 
Its resemblance to the spire of Salisbury had always 
struck me. On mentioning this to the late Mr. Rich- 
ardson, the very distinguished architect, he said to me 
that he thought it more nearly like that of the Cathe- 
dral of Chartres. One of our best living architects 
agreed with me as to its similarity to that of Salis- 
bury. It does not copy either exactly, but, if it had 
twice its actual dimensions, would compare well with 
the best of the two, if one is better than the other. 
Saint-Martin's-in-the-Fields made me feel as if I were 
in Boston. Our Arlington Street Church copies it 
pretty closely, but Mr. Gilman left out the columns. 
I could not admire the Nelson Column, nor that which 
lends monumental distinction to the Duke of York. 
After Trajan's and that of the Place Vendome, each 
of which is a permanent and precious historical record, 
accounting sufficiently for its existence, there is some- 
thing very unsatisfactory in these nude cylinders. 
That to the Duke of York might well have the con- 
fession of the needy knife grinder as an inscription on 
its base. I confess in all honesty that I vastly prefer 
the monument commemorating the fire to either of 
them. That Tias a story to tell and tells it, - with a 
lie or two added, according to Pope, but it tells it in 
language and symbol. 
As for the kind of monument such as I see from my 
library window standing on the summit of Bunker 
Hill, and have recently seen for the first time at Wash- 
ington, on a larger scale, I own that I think a built- 
up obelisk a poor affair as compared with an Egyp- 
tian monolith of the same form. It was a triumph of 
skill to quarry, to shape, to transport, to cover with 
expressive symbols, to erect, such a stone as that 
which has been transferred to the Thames Embank- 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 195 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
ment, or that which now stands in Central Park, New 
York. Each of its four sides is a page of history, 
written so as to endure through scores of centuries. A 
built-up obelisk requires very little more than brute 
labor. A child can shape its model from a carrot or 
a parsnip, and set it up in miniature with blocks of 
loaf sugar. It teaches nothing, and the stranger must 
go to his guide-book to know what it is there for. I 
was led into many reflections by a sight of the Wash- 
ington Monument. I found that it was almost the 
same thing at a mile's distance as the Bunker Hill 
Monument at half a mile's distance; and unless the 
eye had some means of measuring the space between 
itself and the stone shaft, one was about as good as 
the other. A mound like that of Marathon or that at 
Waterloo, a cairn, even a shaft of the most durable 
form and material, are fit memorials of the place 
where a great battle was fought. They seem less 
appropriate as monuments to individuals. I doubt the 
durability of these piecemeal obelisks, and when I 
think of that vast inverted pendulum vibrating in an 
earthquake, I am glad that I do not live in its shadow. 
The Washington Monument is more than a hundred 
feet higher than Salisbury steeple, but it does not look 
to me so high as that, because the mind has nothing 
to climb by. But the forming taste of the country 
revels in superlatives, and if we could only have the 
deepest artesian well in the world sunk by the side of 
the tallest column in all creation, the admiring, not 
overcritical patriot would be happier than ever was the 
Athenian when he looked up at the newly erected 
Parthenon. 
I made a few miscellaneous observations which may 196 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
be worth recording. One of these was the fact of the 
repetition of the types of men and women with which 
I was familiar at home. Every now and then I met a 
new acquaintance whom I felt that I had seen before. 
Presently I identified him with his double on the other 
side. I had found long ago that even among French- 
men I often fell in with persons whose counterparts I 
had known in America. I began to feel as if Nature 
turned out a batch of human beings for every locality 
of any importance, very much as a workman makes a 
set of chessmen. If I had lived a little longer in Lon- 
don, I am confident that I should have met myself, as 
I did actually meet so many others who were dupli- 
cates of those long known to me. 
I met Mr. Galton for a few moments, but I had 
no long conversation with him. If he should ask me 
to say how many faces I can visually recall, I should 
have to own that there are very few such. The two 
pictures which I have already referred to, those of 
Erasmus and of Dr. Johnson, come up more distinctly 
before my mind's eye than almost any faces of the liv- 
ing. My mental retina has, I fear, lost much of its 
sensitiveness. Long and repeated exposure of an ob- 
ject of any kind, in a strong light, is necessary to fix 
its image. 
Among the gratifications that awaited me in Eng- 
land and Scotland was that of meeting many before 
unseen friends with whom I had been in correspon- 
dence. I have spoken of Mr. John Bellows. I shoidd 
have been glad to meet Mr. William Smith, the York- 
shire antiquary, who has sent me many of his antiqua- 
rian and biographical writings and publications. I do 
not think I saw Mr. David Gilmour, of Paisley, whose OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
197 
"Paisley Folk" and other writings have given me 
great pleasure. But I did have the satisfaction of 
meeting Professor Gairdner, of Glasgow, to whose 
writings my attention was first called by my revered 
instructor, the late Dr. James Jackson, and with 
whom I had occasionally corresponded. I ought to 
have met Dr. Martineau. I should have visited the 
Reverend Stopford Brooke, who could have told me 
much that I should have liked to hear of dear friends 
of mine, of whom he saw a great deal in their hours 
of trial. The Reverend Mr. Voysey, whose fearless 
rationalism can hardly give him popularity among the 
conservative people I saw most of, paid me the com- 
pliment of calling, as he had often done of sending me 
his published papers. Now and then some less known 
correspondent would reveal himself or herself in 
bodily presence. Let most authors beware of show- 
ing themselves to those who have idealized them, and 
let readers not be too anxious to see in the flesh those 
whom they have idealized. When I was a boy, I 
read Miss Edgeworth's "L'Amie Inconnue." I have 
learned to appreciate its meaning in later years by 
abundant experiences, and I have often felt unwilling 
to substitute my real for my imaginary presence. I 
will add here that I must have met a considerable 
number of persons, in the crowd at our reception and 
elsewhere, whose names I failed to hear, and whom I 
consequently did not recognize as the authors of books 
I had read, or of letters I had received. The story of 
my experience with the lark accounts for a good deal 
of what seemed like negligence or forgetfulness, and 
which must be, not pardoned, but sighed over. 
I visited several of the well-known clubs, either 
by special invitation, or accompanied by a member. 198 
The Athenaeum was particularly attentive, but I was 
unable to avail myself of the privileges it laid freely 
open before me during my stay in London. Other 
clubs I looked in upon were: the Reform Club, where 
I had the pleasure of dining at a large party given by 
the very distinguished Dr. Morell Mackenzie; the 
Rabelais, of which, as I before related, I have been 
long a member, and which was one of the first places 
where I dined; the Saville; the Savage; the St. 
George's. I saw next to nothing of the proper club- 
life of London, but it seemed to me that the Athe- 
naeum must be a very desirable place of resort to the 
educated Londoner, and no doubt each of the many 
institutions of this kind with which London abounds 
has its special attractions. 
My obligations to my brethren of the medical pro- 
fession are too numerous to be mentioned in detail. 
Almost the first visit I paid was one to my old friend 
and fellow-student in Paris, Dr. Walter Hayle Walshe. 
After more than half a century's separation, two young 
friends, now old friends, must not expect to find each 
other just the same as when they parted. Dr. Walshe 
thought he should have known me; my eyes are not 
so good as his, and I would not answer for them and 
for my memory. That he should have dedicated his 
recent original and ingenious work to me, before I 
had thought of visiting England, was a most gratify- 
ing circumstance. I have mentioned the hospitali- 
ties extended to me by various distinguished mem- 
bers of the medical profession, but I have not before 
referred to the readiness with which, on all occasions, 
when professional advice was needed, it was always 
given with more than willingness, rather as if it were 
a pleasure to give it. I could not have accepted such 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
199 
favors as I received had I not remembered that I, in 
my time, had given my services freely for the bene- 
fit of those of my own calling. If I refer to two 
names among many, it is for special reasons. Dr. 
Wilson Fox, the distinguished and widely known 
practitioner, who showed us great kindness, has since 
died, and this passing tribute is due to his memory. I 
have before spoken of the exceptional favor we owed 
to Dr. and Mrs. Priestley. It enabled us to leave 
London feeling that we had tried, at least, to show our 
grateful sense of all the attentions bestowed upon us. 
If there were any whom we overlooked, among the 
guests we wished to honor, all such accidental omis- 
sions will be pardoned, I feel sure, by those who know 
how great and bewildering is the pressure of social life 
in London. 
I was, no doubt, often more or less confused, in my 
perceptions, by the large number of persons whom 
I met in society. I found the dinner-parties, as Mr. 
Lowell told me I should, very much like the same 
entertainments among my home acquaintances. I 
have not the gift of silence, and I am not a bad lis- 
tener, yet I brought away next to nothing from din- 
ner-parties where I had said and heard enough to fill 
out a magazine article. After I was introduced to a 
lady, the conversation frequently began somewhat in 
this way: - 
"It is a long time since you have been in this coun- 
try, I believe? " 
"It is a very long time: fifty years and more." 
"You find great changes in London, of course, I 
suppose ? " 
"Not so great as you might think. The Tower is 
where I left it. The Abbey is much as I remember 200 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
it. Northumberland House with its lion is gone, but 
Charing Cross is in the same old place. My attention 
is drawn especially to the things which have not 
changed, -those which I remember." 
That stream was quickly dried up. Conversation 
soon found other springs. I never knew the talk to 
get heated or noisy. Religion and politics rarely came 
up, and never in any controversial way. The bitter- 
est politician I met at table was a quadruped, - a 
lady's dog,-who refused a desirable morsel offered 
him in the name of Mr. Gladstone, but snapped up 
another instantly on being told that it came from 
Queen Victoria. I recall many pleasant and some 
delightful talks at the dinner-table; one in particular, 
with the most charming woman in England. I won- 
der if she remembers how very lovely and agreeable 
she was ? Possibly she may be able to identify her- 
self. 
People - the right kind of people - meet at a 
dinner-party as two ships meet and pass each other at 
sea. They exchange a few signals; ask each other's 
reckoning, where from, where bound; perhaps one 
supplies the other with a little food or a few dainties; 
then they part, to see each other no more. But one 
or both may remember the hour passed together all 
their days, just as I recollect our brief parley with the 
brig Economist, of Leith, from Sierra Leone, in mid 
ocean, in the spring of 1833. 
I am very far from despising the science of gastron- 
omy, but if I wished to institute a comparison between 
the tables of England and America, I could not do it 
without eating my way through the four seasons. I 
will say that I did not think the bread from the bak- 
ers' shops was so good as our own. It was very gen- OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
201 
erally tough and hard, and even the muffins were not 
always so tender and delicate as they ought to be. I 
got impatient one day, and sent out for some biscuits. 
They brought some very excellent ones, which we 
much preferred to the tough bread. They proved to 
be the so-called "seafoam" biscuit from New York. 
The potatoes never came on the table looking like new 
fallen snow, as we have them at home. We were sur- 
prised to find both mutton and beef overdone, accord- 
ing to our American taste. The French talk about 
the Briton's "bifteck saignant" but we never saw 
anything cooked so as to be, as we should say, "rare." 
The tart is national with the English, as the pie is 
national with us. I never saw on an English table 
that excellent substitute for both, called the Washing- 
ton pie, in memory of him whom we honor as first in 
pies, as well as in war and in the hearts of his country- 
men. 
The truth is that I gave very little thought to the 
things set before me, in the excitement of constantly 
changing agreeable companionship. I understand 
perfectly the feeling of the good liver in Punch, who 
suggests to the lady next him that their host has 
one of the best cooks in London, and that it might 
therefore be well to defer all conversation until they 
adjourned to the drawing-room. I preferred the con- 
versation, and adjourned, indefinitely, the careful ap- 
preciation of the menu. I think if I could devote a 
year to it, I might be able to make out a graduated 
scale of articles of food, taking a well-boiled fresh egg 
as the unit of gastronomic value, but I leave this sci- 
entific task to some future observer. 
The most remarkable piece of European handiwork 
I remember was the steel chair at Longford Castle. 202 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
The most startling and frightful work of man I ever 
saw or expect to see was another specimen of work in 
steel, said to have been taken from one of the infernal 
chambers of the Spanish Inquisition. It was a com- 
plex mechanism, which grasped the body and the head 
of the heretic or other victim, and by means of many 
ingeniously arranged screws and levers was capable 
of pressing, stretching, piercing, rending, crushing, 
all the most sensitive portions of the human body, one 
at a time or many at once. The famous Virgin, whose 
embrace drove a hundred knives into the body of the 
poor wretch she took in her arms, was an angel 
of mercy compared to this masterpiece of devilish 
enginery. 
Ingenuity is much better shown in contrivances for 
making our daily life more comfortable. I was on the 
lookout for everything that promised to be a conven- 
ience. I carried out two things which seemed to be 
new to the Londoners: the Stai' Razor, which I have 
praised so freely, and still find equal to all my com- 
mendations ; and the mucilage pencil, which is a very 
handy implement to keep on the writer's desk or table. 
I found a contrivance for protecting the hand in draw- 
ing corks, which all who are their own butlers will ap- 
preciate, and luminous match-boxes which really shine 
brightly in the dark, and that after a year's usage; 
whereas one professing to shine by night, which I 
bought in Boston, is only visible by borrowed light. 
I wanted a very fine-grained hone, and inquired for it 
at a hardware store, where they kept everything in 
their line of the best quality. I brought away a very 
pretty but very small stone, for which I paid a large 
price. The stone was from Arkansas, and I need not 
have bought in London what woidd have been easily OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
203 
obtained at a dozen or more stores in Boston. It was 
a renewal of my experience with the seafoam biscuit. 
"Know thyself " and the things about thee, and "Take 
the good the gods provide thee," if thou wilt only 
keep thine eyes open, are two safe precepts. 
Who is there of English descent among us that 
does not feel with Cowper, 
" England, with all thy faults, I love thee still " ? 
Our recently naturalized fellow-citizens, of a different 
blood and different religion, must not suppose that 
we are going to forget our inborn love for the mother 
to whom we owe our being. Protestant England and 
Protestant America are coming nearer and nearer to 
each other every year. The interchange of the two 
peoples is more and more frequent, and there are many 
reasons why it is likely to continue increasing. 
Hawthorne says in a letter to Longfellow, "Why 
don't you come over, being now a man of leisure and 
with nothing to keep you in America? If I were in 
your position, I think I should make my home on this 
side of the water, - though always with an indefinite 
and never-to-be-executed intention to go back and die 
in my native land. America is a good land for young 
people, but not for those who are past their prime. 
... A man of individuality and refinement can cer- 
tainly live far more comfortably here - provided he 
has the means to live at all - than in New England. 
Be it owned, however, that I sometimes feel a tug at 
my very heart-strings when I think of my old home 
and friends." This was written from Liverpool in 
1854. 
We must not forget that our fathers were exiles 
from their dearly loved native land, driven by causes 204 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
which no longer exist. "Freedom to worship God" 
is found in England as fully as in America, in our 
day. In placing the Atlantic between themselves and 
the Old World civilizations they made an .enormous 
sacrifice. It is true that the wonderfid advance of 
our people in all the arts and accomplishments which 
make life agreeable has transformed the wilderness 
into a home where men and women can live comfort- 
ably, elegantly, happily, if they are of contented dis- 
position ; and without that they can be happy nowhere. 
What better provision can be made for a mortal man 
than such as our own Boston can afford its wealthy 
children? A palace on Commonwealth Avenue or on 
Beacon Street; a country-place at Framingham or 
Lenox; a seaside residence at Nahant, Beverly Farms, 
Newport, or Bar Harbor; a pew at Trinity or King's 
Chapel; a tomb at Mount Auburn or Forest Hills; 
with the prospect of a memorial stained window after 
his lamented demise, - is not this a pretty programme 
to offer a candidate for human existence? 
Give him all these advantages, and he will still be 
longing to cross the water, to get back to that old 
home of his fathers, so delightful in itself, so infinitely 
desirable on account of its nearness to Paris, to Ge- 
neva, to Rome, to all that is most interesting in Eu- 
rope. The less wealthy, less cultivated, less fastidi- 
ous class of Americans are not so much haunted by 
these longings. But the convenience of living in the 
Old World is so great, and it is such a trial and such 
a risk to keep crossing the ocean, that it seems alto- 
gether likely that a considerable current of re-migra- 
tion will gradually develop itself among our people. 
Some find the climate of the other side of the At- 
lantic suits them better than their own. As the New 205 
England characteristics are gradually superseded by 
those of other races, other forms of belief, and other 
associations, the time may come when a New Eng- 
lander will feel more as if he were among his own 
people in London than in one of our seaboard cities. 
The vast majority of our people love their country too 
well and are too proud of it to be willing to expatriate 
themselves. But going back to our old home, to find 
ourselves among the relatives from whom we have been 
separated for a few generations, is not like transfer- 
ring ourselves to a land where another language is 
spoken, and where there are no ties of blood and no 
common religious or political traditions. I, for one, 
being myself as inveterately rooted an American of 
the Bostonian variety as ever saw himself mirrored in 
the Frog Pond, hope that the exchanges of emigrants 
and re-migrants will be much more evenly balanced 
by and by than at present. I hope that more Eng- 
lishmen like James Smithson will help to build up our 
scientific and literary institutions. I hope that more 
Americans like George Peabody will call down the 
blessings of the English people by noble benefactions 
to the cause of charity. It was with deep feelings of 
pride and gratitude that I looked upon the bust of 
Longfellow, holding its place among the monuments 
of England's greatest and best children. I see with 
equal pleasure and pride that one of our own large- 
hearted countrymen has honored the memory of three 
English poets, Milton, and Herbert, and Cowper, by 
the gift of two beautiful stained windows, and with 
still ampler munificence is erecting a stately fountain 
in the birthplace of Shakespeare. Such acts as these 
make us feel more and more the truth of the gener- 
ous sentiment which closes the ode of Washington 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 206 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
Allston, "America to Great Britain:" "We are 
one! " 
I have told our story with the help of my daugh- 
ter's diary, and often aided by her recollections. 
Having enjoyed so much, I am desirous that my coun- 
trymen and countrywomen should share my good for- 
tune with me. I hesitated at first about printing 
names in full, but when I remembered that we re- 
ceived nothing but the most overflowing hospitality 
and the most considerate kindness from all we met, I 
felt sure that I could not offend by telling my readers 
who the friends were that made England a second 
home to us. If any one of them is disturbed by such 
reference as I have made to him or to her, I most 
sincerely apologize for the liberty I have taken. I am 
far more afraid that through sheer forgetfulness I 
have left unmentioned many to whom I was and still 
remain under obligations. 
If I were asked what I think of people's travelling 
after the commonly accepted natural term of life is 
completed, I should say that everything depends on 
constitution and habit. The old soldier says, in speak- 
ing of crossing the Beresina, where the men had to 
work in the freezing stream constructing the bridges, 
"Faut du temperament pourcela!" I often thought 
of this expression, in the damp and chilly weather 
which not rarely makes English people wish they were 
in Italy. I escaped unharmed from the windy gusts 
at Epsom and the nipping chill of the Kensington 
garden-party; but if a score of my contemporaries had 
been there with me, there would not improbably have 
been a funeral or two within a week. If, however, the 
super-septuagenarian is used to exposures, if he is an OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. 
207 
old sportsman or an old officer not retired from active 
service, lie may expect to elude the pneumonia which 
follows his footsteps whenever he wanders far from 
his fireside. But to a person of well-advanced years 
coming from a counting-room, a library, or a studio, 
the risk is considerable, unless he is of hardy natural 
constitution; any other will do well to remember, 
"Faut du temperament pour cela! " 
Suppose there to be a reasonable chance that he will 
come home alive, what is the use of one's going to 
Europe after his senses have lost their acuteness, and 
his mind no longer retains its full measure of sensi- 
bilities and vigor? I should say that the visit to Eu- 
rope under those circumstances was much the same 
thing as the petit verre, - the little glass of Char- 
treuse, or Maraschino, or Curagoa, or, if you will, of 
plain Cognac, at the end of a long banquet. One 
has gone through many courses, which repose in the 
safe recesses of his economy. He has swallowed his 
coffee, and still there is a little corner left with its 
craving unappeased. Then comes the drop of liqueur, 
chasse-cafe, which is the last thing the stomach has a 
right to expect. It warms, it comforts, it exhales its 
benediction on all that has gone before. So the trip 
to Europe may not do much in the way of instructing 
the wearied and overloaded intelligence, but it gives 
it a fillip which makes it feel young again for a little 
while. 
Let not the too mature traveller think it will change 
any of his habits. It will interrupt his routine for a 
while, and then he will settle down into his former 
self, and be just what he was before. I brought home 
a pair of shoes I had made in London; they do not 
fit like those I had before I left, and I rarely wear 208 
them. It is just so with the new habits I formed and 
the old ones I left behind me. 
But am I not glad, for my own sake, that I went? 
Certainly I have every reason to be, and I feel that the 
visit is likely to be a great source of happiness for 
my remaining days. But there is a higher source of 
satisfaction. If the kindness shown me strengthens 
the slenderest link that binds us in affection to that 
ancestral country which is, and I trust will always 
be to her descendants, "dear Mother England," that 
alone justifies my record of it, and to think it is so is 
more than reward enough. If, in addition, this ac- 
count of our summer experiences is a source of pleas- 
ure to many friends, and of pain to no one, as I trust 
will prove to be the fact, I hope I need never regret 
giving to the public the pages which are meant more 
especially for readers who have a personal interest in 
the writer. 
OUR HUNDRED DAYS IN EUROPE. GENERAL INDEX 
This index covers volumes I-X ; a special index is provided 
for volume XI at the end of that volume. DISTRIBUTION OF HOLMES'S 
PROSE WRITINGS 
VOLS. i-x 
VOL. 
I. The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table. 
II. The Professor at the Breakfast-Table. 
III. The Poet at the Breakfast-Table. 
IV. Over the Teacups. 
V. Elsie Venner. 
VI. The Guardian Angel. 
VII. A Mortal Antipathy. 
VIII. Pages from an Old Volume of Life. 
Bread and the Newspaper. 
My Hunt after " The Captain." 
The Inevitable Trial. 
The Physiology of Walking. 
The Seasons. 
The Human Body and its Management. 
Cinders from the Ashes. 
Mechanism in Thought and Morals. 
The Physiology of Versification. 
Crime and Automatism. 
Jonathan Edwards. 
The Pulpit and the Pew. 
IX. Medical Essays. 
Homoeopathy and its Kindred Delusions. 
The Contagiousness of Puerperal Fever. 
Currents and Counter Currents in Medical Science. 
Border Lines of Knowledge in Some Provinces of Medi- 
cal Science. 
Scholastic and Bedside Teaching. 
The Medical Profession in Massachusetts. 
The Young Practitioner. 
Medical Libraries. 
Some of My Early Teachers. 
X. Our Hundred Days in Europe. INDEX. 
A-'s diary in England. See Diary. 
Abbas 8 357. 
Abbott, Lieut., of 20th Mass., 8, 26, 27, 
47. 
Abel, the doctor's hired man in Elsie 
Venner. See Stebbins, Abel. 
Abercrombie, Dr., 9, 293. 
Ability, superior, and long life, 4, 28; 
Napoleon opened way for, 10, 174. 
Ablution, missionaries of, 3, 314. 
Abney, Sir Thomas, 5, 57. 
Aborigines, called the provisional races, 
2, 82. See also Indians. 
About so many, about so much, 9, 432. 
Abraham, 5, 247, 248; burial place of, 
3, 331. 
" Absent " persons, unconscious action 
of, 8, 281. 
Absinthe, prevalence of in Paris, 8, 340, 
341. 
Abstinence, total, better than brutalities, 
2, 33. 
Abuse, liability to, 1, 81; flattery of, 2, 
202. 
Academic gown, splendor of, 10, 87. 
Academic villages, change very slowly, 
8, 253. 
Accent, connected with the movement 
of the pulse, 8, 319, 320. 
Accident, the great chemist and toxicol- 
ogist, 9, 289; at Boston theatre, 10,31. 
Accidents of life confounded with life 
itself, 3, 296. 
Accomplishments, the two, common to 
mankind, 8, 121. 
Accountability. See Responsibility, 5, 
248. 
Accuracy, medical, not to be looked for 
in the unprofessional public, 9, 70,71. 
Achievement, laborious, a victory over 
inertia, 9, 396. 
Achilles, little better than a Choctaw 
brave, 4, 74. 
Acquisitions, we never outgrow the pos- 
sibility of new, 9, 375. 
Act, an, to make the poor richer by mak- 
ing the rich poorer, 3, 3. 
Action, reflex. See Unconscious men- 
tal action. 
Aetius, 5, 222. 
Active powers, decay of, welcomed by 
some, 4, 39. 
Actors change less than other people, 3, 
329. 
Acts, good and bad, may not be forgot- 
ten, 2, 233. 
Acupuncture, instrument for, 3, 121, 
122, 289. 
Adam and Eve, creation of, 3, 83. 
Adam, Stonehenge said to have been 
formed under direction of, 10, 114. 
Adamites, sect of, 8, 351. 
Adams, Charles Francis, on the attitude 
of Great Britain during the civil war, 
8, 97. 
Adams, George, the astronomer, 8, 84. 
Adams, Hannah, " first tenant of Mount 
Auburn," 8, 167. 
Adams, John, envoy to England, 8, 98. 
Adams, J. Q., endorses the Winthrop 
eye-water, 9, 335. 
Adams, Samuel, at Commencement, 2, 
41; as governor, 42; his accents of 
liberty, 8, 84; quoted, 115. 
Addison's disease, 3, 67. 
Addison's dying sentiment, 2, 292. 
Adjectives, used in triads, 1, 85. 
Admirable Crichton, The, 10, 124. 
Advertisement, imaginary, of imple- 
ments of torture, 2, 207 ; trap to ob- 
tain, for new book, 3, 302. 
Advice, to a poetical aspirant, 4,42; to 
young men and women with literary 
aspirations, 3, 158. 
Aerial swimming, only triumph of hu- 
man locomotion yet to be accom- 
plished, 1, 169. 
^Estivation, 1,263. 
Aetius, 9, 410. 
Affections, need of the soul for, 2, 249; 
sprinkled or poured out, 4,218; women 
decant their, from old bottles into new, 
6, 296. 
Affinities, elective, 3, 129, 130 ; not to 
be settled by the almanac, 4, 263. 
Affinity, in love, 1, 220; manifestations 
of, 182, 291. 
African freedman. See Terence. 
African kraal, scolding duets of women 
in, 8, 291. 
After dinner poems and speeches, com- 
pared to pulling up flowers by the 
roots, 1, 222. 
After the Curfew, 4, 69. 210 
INDEX. 
Afternoon tea, in England, 10, 26; at 
Mr. Haweis's, 41 ; at Devonshire 
House, 42; at Archdeacon Farrar's, 62. 
Agassiz, 1, 7 n.; 7,13; 8, 223 ; 9, 406; 
10, 183. 
Age, softening effects of, 1, 81; Balzac's 
statement as to when men are most 
dangerous to hearts of women, 149 ; 
none in souls, 6, 177; a factor in the 
production of moral obliquities, 8,338, 
339. 
Agnew, Sir Andrew, 10, 5. 
Agreeable, the wish to be, is essence of 
gentle breeding, 2, 133 ; art of being, 
6,289. 
Agrippa, Cornelius, 4, 163. 
Ails and grievances, talking of, 2, 139. 
Ainsworth, Dr., 9, 210. 
Air, of Old World used up, 2, 249 ; New 
England's air better than Old Eng- 
land's ale, 250 ; our first and last food, 
8,198,199; necessity for plenty of, and 
purity of, 213. See also Ventilation. 
Air-pump, painful experiment with, 1, 
304. 
Akenside, his classification of the poets, 
8, 295. 
Albany, interest in arrival of first boat 
in the spring at, 8, 137. 
Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, 10, 34, 
35, 36. 
Albert Victor, prince, 10, 34,43. 
Albiness, 2, 80. 
Albinus, 6, 141; 9, 220,412, 423. 
Albret, Marshal d', 7, 89. 
Album, author never refuses to write in, 
10,55 ; Princess of Wales's, 55,56. 
Album Verses, 1, 15. 
Alchemy, old books of, 3, 27; 4, 160 ; 
superstitions of, 9, 214. 
Alcoholic stimulants, 4, 184 ; 8, 220-224. 
Alcibiades, a dandy, 1, 258. 
Alderbank, town in The Guardian An- 
gel, residence of Clement Lindsay, 6, 
96. 
Alderson, Dr., his practice of Perkinism, 
9, 36, 78. 
Aldiborontiphoscophornio, 2, 19. 
Aldus edition, 9, 409; 10, 148. 
Alembert, d', on authors, 9, 413. 
Alembic, in Henchman's shop, 2, 231. 
Alexander the Great, 4, 74 ; coins of, 3, 
111 ; 5 , 222; at the Cydnus, 8. 228; 
shrewd trick of his physician, 233; 
and Homer, 9, 396. 
Alger, Rev. Mr., 10, 186. 
Algonquin and Atalanta, boat-race be- 
tween, in A Mortal Antipathy, 7, 46- 
52. 
Alibert, Baron, 9, 437. 
Alien elements, medicine consisting of, 
injurious, 9, 201, 204, 254, 263. 
Aliment. See Food. 
Alison, Dr., on contagion, 9, 119,166. 
Allchin, Dr., 10, 58. 
Allegiance to what is highest in one's 
own nature, 3, 270. 
Allegoria senectutis, 1,151. 
" Allein's Alarm," 2, 277. 
Allen, the three brothers, of Northamp- 
ton. 8, 406. 
Allen, Mrs., her hair-restorer, 2, 79,311. 
Allen, J. M., president of Jefferson Col- 
lege, 9, 299. 
Allen, Ethan, 2, 46; 4,186. 
Allibone, S. A., his "Dictionary of Au. 
thors," 9, 403. 
Allopathists, and other pathists, 8, 234- 
236. 
Allopathy, 9, 289. 
Allotropism, 5,470 ; 9, 215. 
Alloxan, 9, 281. 
Allston, Washington, 7, 3; ode of, 10, 
206. 
Almanacs, dealing with medicine, 8, 
186. 
Alnwick castle, the Percy lion at, 1, 
281; 10, 6. 
Alopecia, 4, 125. 
Alphabet of organization of the human 
body, 9, 228. 
Altomaris, 5, 222. 
Amadis of Gaul, 10, 148, 149. 
Amantis Dignotio, 7, 233. 
" Amatoors," 3, 250. 
Amazons, 7, 40. 
Ambassador, Austrian, to England, 10, 
51 ; Turkish, 37. 
Ambition, defeated, 6, 394. 
America, lack of permanent homes in, 
3, 11; owes its political freedom to 
Protestantism, 5, 253. 
American civil war, memorials to young 
men of favored social position who 
served in, 1,261; opening of, in 1861,6, 
375; the enthusiasm in Oxbow village, 
The Guardian Angel, 385; to many 
youth who enlisted it seemed only or- 
ganized barbarism, 411; simplifying 
our mode of being, 8, 3; different 
from earlier wars, 6, 7 ; destroys pet- 
ty social distinctions, 8; lessons of, 
8-14; unprepared mental condition of 
the North at beginning of, 79 ; moral 
nature of the issue, 80; inevitable- 
ness of, 82, 83,92; causes of, 85; pur- 
pose of, 94; attitude of Great Britain 
toward the North, 97; attitude of 
France and Italy during, 99,100 ; best 
that it was not too easily ended, 101; 
impossibility of honorable peace until 
the South was conquered, 103, 104 ; 
probable results if the South were vic- 
torious, 106-108; fears that the gov- 
ernment might become a tyranny, 
108,110; possible sacrifices and hard- 
ships to be endured in order to fin- 
ish, 111 -113; general glance at dis- 
cussion of principles involved, 114- 
119 ; Carlyle's meddling with, 10,140; 
England's sympathy with the South 
shocked the North, 184. See also Cop- 
perheads. 
American, the, is the Englishman rein- 
forced, 1, 238. 
American, every, owns all America, 2, 86 INDEX. 
211 
American, ideal life of an, 7, 31. 
American girl, character in Over the 
Teacups. See Annexes, the two. 
American idea of freedom is congenital, 
2, 81. 
American Indians. See Indians, Ameri- 
can. 
American literature, certain tendencies 
in, 4, 110. 
" American Magazine," 7, 4. 
American Revolution, war passion of 
the, 8, 7; effect of, in spiritual matters, 
411. 
American Tract Society, 6, 226. 
American, young, his opportunities, 2, 
283; dangerously stimulated by his 
conditions of life, 6, 221. 
Americanization of religion, 2, 207. 
Americans, the great assimilating peo- 
ple, 1, 19 ; are like cuckoos, 3,10; the 
talking dynasty hard upon, 265; their 
love of the superlative, 4, 104 ; their 
appetite for titles of distinction, 222, 
231; extravagant tendencies of the 
medical mind among, 9, 192, 193 ; il- 
lustration of the ascending scale of 
vitality among, 199; inferior to the 
French in prescribing for disease, 204 ; 
at first sight of English scenes, 10, 
52; recognized before they speak, 130 ; 
Johnson's harsh opinion of, 138; their 
taste for superlatives, 195. 
" Amie Inconnue, L'," Miss Edge- 
worth's, 10, 197. 
Amines of parasitical literature, 1, 67. 
Amory, Charles, 9, 425. 
Amour-propre, universal, 1, 51. 
Amsterdam galiots, 8, 58, 59. 
Amusements on the planet Saturn, 4,65. 
Amussat, 9, 90, 91. 
Anacreon, had a quicker respiration 
than Homer, 8, 319. 
Anaesthetics, of Nature, 5,191; 9, 365; 
why not end incurable suffering with, 
8, 66; rapidly appropriated by phy- 
sicians, 235 ; humanity has a right to 
use, to secure euthanasia, 238; in 
childbirth, 238. 
Analogies, power of seeing, 1, 83 ; in 
nature, 84. 
Ananias, supposed critic of lecture, 2, 
120. 
Anatomist's Hymn, The, 1, 175. 
Anatomy, simple statement with refer- 
ence to, 8, 190-197 ; human, an almost 
exhausted science, 9, 220; general, 
the geology of the body, 222 ; regional, 
223; Japan anticipated Europe in a 
rude regional anatomy, 224; patholog- 
ical, 231 ; slight change in our know- 
ledge of, 422, 423. 
Ancestors, may have a secondary, yet 
self-conscious life in the personality 
of descendants, 6, 22 ; their traits in 
embryo, 26 et seq.; reappearance of, 
in Myrtle's vision in The Guardian 
Angel, 91. 
Anchor Tavern, 7, 36, 251. 
Anchorite, 5, 416. 
" Ancient Mariner," quoted, 7, 91; 8, 
.202. 
Andover, Mass., large elm at, 1, 287 ; 
seminary clock at, 287 ; descriptions 
and reminiscences of, 8, 245-259. 
Andover discussion, 4, 251. 
Andral, 9, 60, 79, 429, 430. 
Andre, Major, exhumation of, 10, 96. 
Ane, L', de Buridan, 8, 374. 
Angel, the recording, destroys old reo- 
ord-books, 4, 48 ; an angel with the 
influenza, 99. 
"Angel of Bethesda," C. Mather's, rd- 
sumd of, 9, 359-362. 
Angelina's verses, how to treat them, 3, 
153. 
Angels might learn from human beings, 
3, 248. 
Anger, is insanity, 8, 335. 
Anges, vulgar error for Agnes, 2, 95. 
Angier, Joseph, poem in memory of, 3, 
115. 
Anglican church, would gladly be rid of 
the Athanasian creed, 8, 420. 
Anglo-American anthropology, pro- 
jected work of the Professor in Elsie 
Venner, 5, 8. 
Anglo-Saxon chronicle quoted, 10, 66. 
Anglo-Saxons die out in America, 1, 238. 
Animal chemistry. See Chemistry. 
Animal functions tend to assume period- 
ical type of movement, 1, 155. 
Animal magnetism, 5, 221 ; 9, 37. 
Animals, eccentrically formed, 2, 236 ; 
learned quadrupeds, 8, 91; govern- 
ment mules, 32, 33 ; in winter, 179; 
chemistry of, 187-190; domestic, 
must be "salted," 216; revival of 
apparently obsolete impressions in, 
300. 
Animus tuus oculus, a freshman's Latin, 
3, 302. 
Anise-seed, oil of, 9, 65. 
Ankle, wonderful effects of breaking a 
bone in, 3,97. 
Ann-street children, 5, 324. 
Anne, queen of England, 9, 3. 
Annexes, The two, characters in Over 
the Teacups, 4, 52 ; their interest in 
Delilah, the maid, 224; they go with 
the young Doctor to an "exhibition," 
265 ; their surprise, 271. 
Anniversaries, dreaded by the Poet, 1, 
222 ; dinners at, rules for those who 
attend, 5, 122, 123; natural, 8, 154; 
fondness of Americans for, 361. 
Anodyne, Nature's, 4, 30. 
Anonymous scribblers, 2, 118. 
Another's, one of Gifted Hopkins's po- 
ems in The Guardian Angel, 6, 224. 
Anstey, Christopher, 10, 107. 
Answer, a reply not equivalent to an, 
9, 81. 
Answers, unwritten, to correspondents, 
4, 310, 311. 
Ant, red, 2, 245. 
Antagonism, laws of, 3, 130. 212 
INDEX. 
Anthropology, legendary, Protestantism 
must give up, 2, x ; theology is little 
more than traditional, 8, 324; is in 
its infancy, 357 ; replacing scholastic 
divinity, 9, 417. See also Man. 
Antietam, wounded at, 8, 29, 30 ; battle- 
field of, 40-42; letter picked up at, 
42 ; cornfield at, 169. 
Antimonial cup, 9, 341. 
Antimony, 9, 289, 333, 335, 348, 366. 
Antipathies, 5, 207, 443; various kinds 
of, 7, 63, 64, 143; record of, 87-93; 
to sight of blood, 236; to cats, 242, 
243 245. 
"Antiquary," Scott's, 10, 113. 
Antiquities of Egypt, 4, 100. 
Antiquity, of many modern customs, 3, 
322 ; charm of, not conferred by lapse 
of fifty years, 7, 2. 
Anxiety at sea, unavoidable, 10, 15. 
Apex family in The Guardian Angel, 6, 
289, 312. 
Aphorism by the Professor, 2, 57. 
Aphorisms, several specimens of, 6, 404- 
406; fondness for writing in the form 
of, natural to strong thinkers, 8, 384. 
Apollinean Institute, a young ladies' 
school in Elsie Venner, 5, 47 ; called 
the Broken-Victuals Institoot by Colo- 
nel Sprowle, 132; flattering tributes 
to, in annual reports of committee, 
164-167. 
Apology, egotism wrong side out, 2,139; 
hateful to the world of readers, 4, 
293; for human nature, 3, 20. 
Apoplexy, case of, on hearing of Napo- 
leon's return from Elba, 8, 3; some- 
times helped by a vegetable diet, 217, 
218 ; the archbishop's flavor of, in the 
memory, 296. 
Appetite, false, in many intelligences, 
9, 245. 
Apple-trees, anecdote of, 1, 160; 10, 
191. 
Apples, smell of, disagreeable to some 
persons, 7, 88, 89. 
Appleton, Thomas Gold, his mot, "Good 
Americans when they die go to Paris," 
1, 125 ; his mot about green and mock 
turtle, 4, 275 ; 10, 74. 
Approximations, vague, to be avoided 
in medicine, 9, 431, 432. 
" April Days " of T. W. Higginson, 8, 
139. 
Apron strings of American mother made 
of India rubber, 2, 285. 
" Arabian Nights," prescription of physi- 
cian in, 6, 181; carpet of, wished for, 
10, 160. 
Arago, 3,138 ; 10, 167. 
Aram, Eugene, quoted, 8 , 334. 
Arblay, Madame d', 10, 89. 
" Arcadia," Sidney's, 10,124. 
Arcady, South Downs might answer for, 
10, 134. 
Arch, beauty and endurance of the, 4, 
211, 212. 
Archangel, an, can smile, 4, 60. j 
Archbishop, agitation in presence of, 
10, 54. 
Archer, the jockey, 10, 36, 40. 
Archimedes, grave of, 2, 247. 
Architecture, an imperfect copy of some 
divine rule, 2, 241; Greek, common 
motive in, 8, 84. 
Arcus senilis, 1, 95. 
Area of consciousness, 4, 11. 
Argonauta, 1, 97. 
Arguments, which spoil conversation, 
1, 10; common, employed in defence 
of every doctrine, 9, 30 et seq. ; with 
certain minds, a lever without a ful- 
crum, 10, 172. 
Argyll, Duke of, 10, 51. 
Aristocracy, forming in America, 1, 
259 ; money its corner-stone, 260; its 
weak point its lack of thorough man- 
hood, 260 ; pluck should be the back- 
bone of, 261; hard-handed, 4, 218; 
hostile to the North in Civil war, 8, 
97, 98; characteristics of, 5, 1. See 
also Brahmin caste. 
Aristotle, 1, 259 ; 5, 222 ; 9, 177. 
Ark, Christianity compared to an, 2, 
218. 
Arlington Street Church, 10, 194. 
Arm, beautiful cast of, 2,48 ; fine arm of 
cripple, 100, 259 ; sketch of fine, 236 ; 
strength momentarily centred in, 237. 
Arminian heresy, 5, 44. 
Armstrong, Dr., essay by, on puerperal 
fever, 9, 135,136. 
Arnold, Dr., of Heidelberg, 9, 86. 
Arnold, Sir Edwin, 4, 298. 
Arnold, Matthew, 10, 71. 
Arnold, Dr. Thomas, his definition of a 
priest, 8, 403. 
Arnold House, 10, 132. 
Arrowhead Village, scene of A Mortal 
Antipathy, 7, 35, 36; changes in, 297 
et seq. 
Arrowheads, Indian, 2, 245. 
Arrowsmith, 9, 222. 
" Ars Poetica " modernized, 4, 89. 
Arsenic, experiments with, 9, 61; eat- 
ing of, 255. 
Art, the contributions of realism to, 4, 
107; distinction between imaginative 
art and science, 108, 110; question 
between " art " and " nature " in the 
medical profession, 9, 181; definition 
of the terms of, 196. 
Artemis, the many breasted, of Ephe- 
sus, 8, 77. 
Arthur's Seat, Edinburgh, 10, 83, 85. 
Articulated sound, fascination of, 3, 46, 
47. 
" Artillery election," not to be counted 
with 'lection days, 8, 146; 10, 33. 
Artisans, means of, for defending be- 
sieged city, 9, 435. 
Artistic nature, frankness of, 2, 221; 
6, 220. 
Artists, apt to call in stimulation for 
their intellects, 1, 187, 191; method 
of securing portrait, 2, 191; need 213 
freedom from disturbance, 3, 100; 
their idiosyncrasies, 102. 
Asclepiades, 9, 65. 
Ascutney mountain, 6, 143. 
Ases, the, and the Ifs, 4, 121, 122. 
Ashburnham, Lord, possessor of the ring 
of Thothmes III., 3, 111. 
Ashmole, Dr., 9, 354. 
Asia, prophets of, 8, 206. 
Asiatic modes of thought, 8, 309. 
" Asides " of the Autocrat, 1, 201. 
Aspect of things changes entirely in a 
single generation, 3, 328. 
Assafcetida for hysterics, 6, 171. 
Assessors, Heaven's, 1, 92. 
Assimilable elements, a medicine con- 
sisting of, unwholesome food, 9, 201, 
204, 263. 
Assimilation of ourselves to external ob- 
ject of interest,. 2, 156 ; further illus- 
tration of, 190. 
Assize, the last grand, 4, 313. 
Association of ideas, 1, 78; " laws of," 
8, 267 ; mystery of unconscious men- 
tal action exemplified in, 285,286. 
Associations, early, 5, 157. 
Asthma, 9, 413 ; 10, 10-12 ; cure for, 11. 
Astrology, 9, 33 ; in Boston, 367. 
Astronomer weighing Uranus or Nep- 
tune, 1, 276. 
Astruc, criticism of the Pentateuch by, 
8, 417 ; 9, 298, 366. 
Asylum, The. See McLean Asylum, 1, 
247. 
At the Pantomime, 4, 198. 
At the Turn of the Road, 4, 288. 
Atavism in religious beliefs, 8, 422. 
Athanasian creed, 4, 258; 5, 412; an 
incubus on the Anglican Church, 8, 
420. 
Athenaeum Club, 10, 198. 
Athenaeum picture gallery, 7, 2. 
Athletes, liability of, to consumption, 8, 
230. , 
Athletics, languishing condition of, 1, 
171. 
Athos, Mount, monks of, 3, 106. 
"Atlantic Monthly," first appearance of 
The Autocrat in, 1, iii. ; pun on, 55 ; 
The Professor came out in, 2, ix.; 
Elsie Venner published in, 5, vii.; 
the author invited to become a con- 
tributor, 7, 9 ; founded at Z. Porter's 
inn, 8, 171. 
Atmosphere, moral, effects upon char- 
acter, 2, 242; theological, its change 
in thirty years, 4, 306 ; a slow poison, 
8, 373. 
Atmospheric reformers, women are 
born, 8, 215. 
Atmospheric rings, a woman's, 4, 286. 
Atragene Americana, 5, 101. 
Atrophy of heart, women subject to, 2, 
249. 
Attention long fixed on a single object, 
strange effects of, 3, 107. 
Atterbury, 9, 11. 
Attitude, religious, of old age, 4, 45. 
INDEX. 
Attraction, laws of, 3, 130; two prin- 
ciples of, 4, 283. 
Aubrey, quoted on Harvey, 9, 292, 293. 
Audacity in young girls, 2, 222. 
Audiences, intellectual average not high, 
1,140; " remarkably intelligent " ones 
much the same in all places, 141; 
kindness often shown by, to lecturer, 
142. 
August, 8, 156, 157. 
Augustan age, common motive and force 
in, 8, 84. 
" Auld Lang Syne," 6, 200. 
" Aunt Sally," 10, 32. 
Aunt Tabitha, 3, 87. 
Aurania, the, steamship, 10, 179, 181; 
entertainment on board, 181. 
Aurelianus, Cielius, 9, 65. 
Aureola (Halo), meaning of, 7, 244. 
Auscultation, first work on, in America, 
9, 355. 
Austrian ambassador, 10, 51. 
Authors, importance of jockeying to, 1, 
37; vanity of, 49; ashamed of being 
funny, 50; letters sent to, 69 et seq. ; 
they get tired of finding fault when 
they begin to grow old, 81; repeat in 
conversation what they have said in 
their books, 3, 206; compliments to 
authors, 207; fate of presentation 
copies of their books, 301; they should 
read friendly and unfriendly criticism, 
303; personality of, impossibility of 
concealing it, 4, 20 ; their pleasure in 
renewing relations with the public, 
22 ; blunders of, 156; difficulty of ad- 
mitting new authors as intimates after 
a certain period of life, 157 ; idiosyn- 
crasies of, 297; authors and their 
characters, 299, 300; character of 
some, quoted by Hahnemann, 9, 63; 
a new generation of, 10, 38; lonely 
feeling in the midst of a new genera- 
tion of, 39. 
Authorship, rewards of, 3, 160; penal- 
ties of, 4, 23; unsuccessful, pathos of, 
6, 291; lead-poisoning of, 9, 423. 
Auto-da-fe, the last, 2, 208. 
Autobiographical character of Our Hun- 
dred Days in Europe, 10, 182. 
Autocrat, works at carpenter's bench, 
1, 179 ; 2, 17, 18, 21, 22; 4, 304. 
Autograph-albums, 1, 6; 5, 394. 
Autographs, the author's, always gen- 
uine, 10, 25. 
Automatism: automatic principles in 
body, mind, and morals, wide range of, 
1, 85; automatic action of the mind, 
134; creative action of mind is auto- 
matic, 191; automatic action in morals, 
5, 227, 228 ; " automatic actions of the 
secondary kind " may be voluntary, 
8, 278, 281; and crime, 322-360; a 
glance at, 329. See also Heredity; 
Responsibility; Unconscious Mental 
Action; Will. 
Autumn, 5, 420 ; 8, 161-173; leaves, 
cause of change in color, 165. 214 
INDEX. 
Averages, their awful uniformity, 1, 
140 ; close law of, 2, 166; 3, 130 ; hu- 
man, steadiness of, 221 et seq. ; 5, 
272; and law - two dominant words 
of our time, 9, 180. 
Aversions, personal, indulgence in, 3, 
Avicenna, 6, 222. 
Avis, character in Over the Teacups. 
See Delilah. 
Avon, the, 10, 92, 99, 126. 
Axe and block, ghastly literature of, 8, 
266, 267. 
Babbage's calculating machine, 1,9. 
Babel, new tower of (Eiffel tower), 4, 
104. 
Babies, old, 1, 154; 5, 322; badness of, 
6, 257. 
Babinet, M., his prophecy of the destruc- 
tion of the earth, 8, 425, 426. 
Baby's fingers, 3, 51. 
Baccius, Andreas, 6, 222. 
Bachelder, Rev. Stephen, 4, 37. 
Bachelors, have late in life a grand-pa- 
ternal instinct, 6, 47. 
Back Bay, Boston, 1, 164. 
Backbones, cartilaginous, 4, 121. 
Backgammon, life is like to most men, 
6, 238 ; good throws at, 361. 
Bacon, Miss Delia, insane attempt of, 
10, 95. 
Bacon, Lord, 9, 6, 7, 179 ; on action of 
the heart after death, 201; on man 
and nature, 292; on our opinion of 
God, 400. 
Bacon, Roger, his study at Oxford, 10, 
81. 
Bacon's " Essays " at fifty guineas a 
sheet, 4, 8. 
Badlam, Miss Cynthia, second cousin to 
Miss Silence Withers in The Guardian 
Angel, 6, 9; her fears for Myrtle's 
career, 10; Nurse Byloe scrutinizes 
her closely, 12; her warnings to Myrtle 
as to evil ways, 79 ; watches Rev. Mr. 
Stoker and Myrtle, 166; calls on Mrs. 
Hopkins, 167 ; her mysterious interest 
in the twins, 109 et seq.; plots against 
Myrtle's interests, 332 et seq. ; Mas- 
ter Gridley calls on her, 345 et seq.; 
surrenders a paper, 352 et seq. ; her 
death, 423 ; her bequest applied to the 
benefit of the twins, 426. 
Baglivi, 7, 180 et seq. 
Baillarger, on cause of right-handedness, 
8, 268. 
Baillie, Dr., 9, 81. 
Bailliere, publisher of homoeopathic 
books in Paris, 9, 89. 
Baked beans unknown in Philadelphia, 
8, 70. 
Balaklava, Captain Nolan at, 2, 251; 
charge of the six hundred at, 9, 297. 
Ballad-mongering, 4, 85. 
Ballad poetry, accommodated to the 
rhythm of breathing, 8, 319. 
Ballet dancing, 3, 95, 96 : instructive in 
anatomy of the leg, 8, 191. 
Balloon, toy, 2, 108. 
Balloon-voyagers, 2, 228. 
Baltimore, called the gastronomic me- 
tropolis of the Union, 2, 84; sixth 
Mass, regiment in, 8, 7, 13 ; newsboys 
of, 48. 
Balzac, 7, 234, 235; his statement as to 
age when men are most dangerous to 
hearts of woman, 1, 149; his "Beau 
de Chagrin," 4, 72 ; 9, 373. 
Bambino, 3 , 308. 
Bancroft, George, 4, 27, 292 ; his com- 
ment on Calvin, 3, 184; on Jonathan 
Edwards, 8, 361, 362, 399; son of a 
clergyman, 411. 
Bangor, Maine, named after hymn of 
that name, 6, 87. 
Bank of Benevolence, Mrs. Howe's, 10, 
172. 
Banner and Oracle. See State Banner 
and Delphian Oracle. 
Banshee, 6, 80. 
Barbarisms in medicine, 2, 105; in law, 
106; in religion, 106. 
Barbeyrac, Charles, 9, 281, 343. 
Barbier's satirical lines on Napoleon's 
tomb, 10, 173. 
Barclay, Mr., 10, 83, 85. 
Bard, The, horse, 10, 36, 82. 
Barnes, Phinehas, 8, 249. 
Barnum, P. T., 2, 165; 3, 127; 10,91. 
Barrators, common among doctors as 
well as lawyers, 9, 392. 
Barron, Dr., on puerperal fever, 9, 122. 
Barry, Martin, 9, 250. 
Bartholinus, Thomas, 9, 341. 
Bartlett, Elisha, 9, 292,374, 384. 
Bartlett, Sidney, 4, 27. 
Bartolozzi's peppery burin, 2, 29. 
Barzillai, his condition at eighty, 4, 26, 
33. 
Base ball, distinctively American, 1, 36 
n. ; importance of, 10, 93. 
Basil's Cave, Andover, 8, 257. 
Baskerville edition, of Virgil, 2, 61; of 
Addison, 5, 198. 
Basket, huge, of the Manuscript reader, 
6, 303. 
Basle, Dance of Death at, 2, 266. 
Bath, Eng., 10, 105-107 ; Grand Pump- 
Room Hotel, 105; old Roman baths, 
106 ; shops in, for slender purses, 106; 
spoken of by Macaulay, 107 ; number 
of visitors, 107; abbey church sculp- 
tures, 107. 
Bath, convenience of the, one great ad- 
vantage of city life, 8 , 228. 
Battle of the Standard for liberty to each 
soul, 2, 78. 
Battlefields, all alike, 8, 13; Antietam, 
29; centripetal and centrifugal fore* 
of, 29; relics of, repulsive, 42. 
Battles, the great vivisectors, 9, 289. 
Baudelocque, on puerperal fever, 9,106, 
123,165. INDEX. 
215 
Baxter, Richard, on conversion, 6, 162. 
Beach, Dr., 10, 181. 
Beacon, at Great Malvern, ascent of, 10, 
102. 
Beacon Street, door-plate in August, an 
eye rayless as, 1, 65 ; latitude of, 8, 
138. 
Bean, the Rev. Didymus, mentioned in 
Elsie Venner, 5, 44, 61. 
Bear Hill, in The Guardian Angel, 6,19. 
Bearding the world, 5, 10. 
Beaumont, Dr., his experiments on 
Alexis St. Martin, 8, 218. 
Beauties, running the gauntlet of years, 
1,160; vulgar, their virtuous indigna- 
tion at being looked at, 194. 
Beauty, Divinity taking outlines and 
color, 1, 113; human, 2, 283; of New 
England girl, 5, 71; the perfect sort 
attained only by repose, 124 ; a luxury 
monopolized by rich, 124, 125 ; carries 
repulsion as well as attraction with it, 
125,126; a terrible fact, 7, 246. 
Becquerel, 5, 305. 
Bed bug, called a "flat-pattern live 
timekeeper," 1, 112. 
Bed-time, false modesty in regard to, 1, 
208. 
Bee, architecture of, 2, 241; parasites 
of, 3, 76 ; peculiar tastes of, 8, 158. 
Beecher, E., theory of the moral world, 
8, 328. 
Beeches, 10, 191. 
Beehive, giant, planing-mill compared 
to, 3, 325. 
Beesly of Everton, 8, 303. 
Beggarly, Mrs., 9, 341. 
Being, great end of, 2, 1, 4. 
Belgium, a bowling alley for kings' can- 
non-balls, 8, 23. 
Belief: cherished beliefs like ancient 
drinking-glasses, 1, 15; those in which 
we are trained, indelible,3,327 ; those 
of rigid theologians soften in their 
later years, 4, 39; constitution has 
much to do with, 5, 317 ; divorced 
from character, 8, 308 ; not to be con- 
founded with evidence, 9, 108; old, 
still alive, 367. 
Belknap, Jeremy, honored historian, 8, 
409. 
Bell, the inventor, moving in parallel 
path with other inventors, 8, 84. 
Bell, Sir Charles, 9, 293. 
Bell, John, as a medical writer, 9, 225. 
Bell-glass, fatal experiment of society 
in placing young woman under, 1, 
305. 
Bellamy, Dr., prophecy of, about the 
year 1866, 8, 407. 
Belle Poule, La, 6, 270. 
Belles, ball-room, their coquetries, 6, 
260. 
Bellingham, Spencer Perceval's assassin, 
5, 226. 
Bellows, John, the antiquarian, 1, 33 n.; 
10, 40, 116, 196. 
Belmont spring water, 10,12. 
Bemerton, England, 10, 110, 125; 
George Herbert's church at, 127. 
Bend Or, a Derby winner, 10, 22, 33. 
Benedict, Joel, quoted on prophecy of 
Dr. Bellamy, 8, 407. 
Benevolence, its practice by impostors, 
o R7 
Benicia Boy, 1, 173. 
Benjamin Franklin, the landlady's son 
in The Autocrat and The Professor, 1, 
12 ; called B. F. or Frank, 57 ; hie 
French exercise, 58; another French 
exercise, 136 ; his addition to the bride- 
cake, 311; other mention, 53, 87,116, 
135, 246 ; 2, 4, 21, etc. See also Doc- 
tor B. Franklin. 
Benjamin of Tudela, 10, 182. 
Bennett, John Hughes, 9, 295, 297. 
Benson, Edward W., Archbishop of Can- 
terbury, 10, 73. 
Benson, Mrs., at Lambeth Palace, 10, 73. 
Bentham's logic against ghosts, 2, 189. 
Berengarius, the anatomist, 6, 141; 9, 
411. 
Beranger's lines on England quoted, 10, 
193. 
Beresina, the, old soldier's saying about, 
10, 206. 
Berkeley, Bishop, his treatise on tar- 
water, 8, 418 ; 9, 12. 
Berkshire County, Massachusetts, 1, 
235,245,265. 
Berkshire Mountains, 2, 245. 
Berlin, University of, 9, 406. 
Berne, jump of Weinzapfli's horse at, 1, 
281. 
Bertrand, Dr., on the convict prisons of 
France, 8, 345. 
Berwick on Tweed, 10, 6. 
Best, one can't be all the time trying to 
do one's, 1, 278. 
Best man in a fight, 5, 26. 
Bethesda, pool of, stirred by an author, 
4, 10. 
Beverly, Massachusetts, oak at, 10, 48. 
Beverly Farms, large oak at, 1, 288 n. 
Bezoar, East Indian, 9, 340, 341. 
Bible, a seeming defence of right to 
have three wives derived from, 2, 5; 
skepticism afraid of new translations, 
7 ; resorted to from different motives, 
122 ; many people get their Scripture 
from Vinegar edition, 5, 326. 
Bichat, 4, 123; 8, 320 ; 9, 179, 222, 226, 
228. 
Bicycle, 1, iv., 168 n. 
Bidloo, 9, 411. 
Bifteck saignant, 10, 201. 
Bigamists, love-letters of, rich in poet- 
ical extracts, 4, 92. 
Bigel, Dr., 9, 99. 
Bigelow, George Tyler, 2,49; 4, 29. 
Bigelow, Henry J., 9, 439. 
Bigelow, Jacob, 9, 351, 433,435; " Mod- 
ern inquiries," 8, 144, 145, 183; on 
poisoning from eating partridges, 219, 
220; formula of, to obtain a long, 
healthy life, 234. 216 
INDEX. 
Biglow, W., Dr. Holmes's schoolmaster, 
8, 240. 
Bigot, the mind of, compared to the pu- 
pil of the eye, 1, 144. 
Billiard-ball, the Model of all the Vir- 
tues compared to, 2, 71. 
Billiards, 9, 376. 
Billings, John 8., catalogue of, 9, 406, 
407. 
Billionaire's easy method of planning for 
large party, 5, 86. 
Biography, cost of being its subject, 3, 
163 et seq. 
Birds which have no fear, 2, 96; sketch 
of solitary, 238; voices of, 5, 185; 
eggs of, 266; advent of, in spring, 8, 
142,144; of winter, 179. 
Blackbird, 10, 191. 
Canary, 1, 85 ; 2, 94; 6, 59. 
Crow, 1, 29. 
Cuckoo, 10, 50, 191. 
Heron, 2, 236. 
King-bird, 1, 29. 
Lark, 10, 191. 
Nightingale, 10, 191. 
Purple finch, 2,94. 
Rook, 10, 191. 
Sparrow, English, 3, 314. 
Starling, 10, 191. 
Birs Nimroud, 10, 123, 152. 
Birth, a second natural, 2, 243. 
Birthday, The Dictator's, 4, 290 et seq. 
Birthday books, author never refuses to 
write in, 10, 55. 
Birthday cake for author, 10, 181. 
Birthmark, 5, 278. 
Birth-year of author, and of Gladstone, 
Tennyson, Darwin, the same, 10, 44. 
Biscuit, called "crackers" in Boston, 
2, 169; seafoam, 10,201. 
Bishop, Bridget, 9, 358. 
Bishop, English, not ashamed that his 
son was a doctor, 8, 410. 
Black drop, Nature's, 4, 30,39. 
Black Hawk, anecdote of, 7, 6. 
Black powder, mystical remedy, 9, 280, 
330. 
Blackberry, 2, 187; an imitative fruit, 
8, 157. 
Blackstone, 3, 314; believed the moon 
to affect the insane, 8, 212. 
Blair's chronology, 3, 83. 
Blake, Mr., his "Jesse Rural," 1, 90. 
Blanket-shawl, 1,19. 
Blenheim, 10, 6. 
Blessed are those who have said our 
good things for us, 4, 10. 
Blessed Virgin, torturing-implement, 2, 
208; 10, 202. 
Blessing, propriety of asking one, at 
Col. Sprowle's party in Elsie Venner, 
5, 106, 107. 
Blind, mental action of the congeni- 
tally, 8, 269, 270. 
Blind spot of the eye, 4, 166. 
Blindness, said to be caused by sleeping 
in moonlight, 8, 212. 
Blitz, Signor, 1, 38. 
Blondes, two kinds of, 1, 183; "posi- 
tive " variety of, 2, 54, 222 ; the " neg- 
ative " variety, 222 ; spiritual transpa- 
rency of, 229 ; the boiled parsnip sort, 
6, 259. 
Blood, enormous number of swimming 
glands in, 2, 59; necessary to courage, 
and to successful love, 7, 235 ; fainting 
at sight of, 89, 236 ; corpuscles of, 8, 
192; 9, 238 ; wanted by whatever or- 
gan is at work, 230; change in that 
which goes to the brain after severe 
mental labor, 263; itself an organ, 266. 
Blood-letting, 9, 295, 325, 331, 428, 432, 
433. 
" Blooded " horse not same as " blood " 
horse, 1, 37. 
Bloody Mary, was hysterical, 6, 171. 
Bloomer costume, 2, 155. 
Blossoms of the Soul, title of Gifted 
Hopkins's manuscript poems, 6, 301; 
its fate at the hands of the Manuscript 
reader, 306 et seq. 
Blue vitriol, 9, 10. 
Blundell, Dr., on puerperal fever, 9, 
139, 140, 166. 
Blunders, clerical, in speech, pardona- 
ble, 1, 111. 
Blushing, 6, 358, 359; meaningless, 1, 
Boarders, peculiar, 2, 168. 
Boarding-house, the, in The Professor, 
arrangements of boarders in, 2, 21; 
fare in, 168 ; its limitations as to quan- 
tity, 169. 
Boarding-house fever, 3, 64. 
Boarding-houses, unprotected girls in, 
2, 223; their usual inmates, 3, 244; 
trials of keeping, 341. 
Boarding-schools have same general 
features, 6, 171. 
Boat race between the Algonquin and 
the Atalanta, in A Mortal Antipathy, 
7, 46-52. 
Boating, the Professor's pleasure in, 1, 
164; shape of his boat, 168 ; nearest ap- 
proach to flying, 168; greatest labor 
for muscles in, 169; boats on steam- 
ship, fearful possibilities suggested by, 
10, 16, 181. 
Bodleian Library, 10, 81. 
Body, human, only looked on as a tempo- 
ral possession, 2, 19 ; structure of, has 
suggested many modern contrivances, 
3, 322; management of, 8, 186-238; 
twelve chemical elements of, 189; 
geology of, 191; cells of, 192, 193; 
fibres and membranes of, 193, 194; 
decay and renewal of, 198-200, 266; 
exhalations of, 200 ; a soil capable of 
being improved, 216; the cook makes, 
the apothecary cobbles the, 217; re- 
spiration and pulse time-keepers of, 
315; alphabet of its organization, 9, 
229. 
Boerhaave, 5, 19; 9, 375. 
Boileau, Abbd, story of Pascal told by, 
7, 90. 217 
INDEX. 
Bois de Boulogne, 10, 176. 
Bolt Court, London, Johnson's house in, 
10, 154. 
Bombazine, a soubriquet for the Poor 
Relation, which see. 
Bon mots of the Seven wise men of 
Boston, 1, 124 et seq. 
Bonaparte, Prince Lucien, 9, 418. 
Bond Street, London, 10, 145. 
Bones, of nature, 8, 74; substance of, 
196. ■ 
Bonnet, M., his experiments with cin- 
chona, 9, 61. 
Bonneville de Marsangy, account of the 
Colonie penitentiare of Mettray, 8, 
354; on the case of Dumollard and 
capital punishment, 356. 
Boiminghausen, Okie's, 9, 414. 
Boo, word agreed upon for universal 
ejaculation, 1, viii. 
Book, a dead. See " Thoughts on the 
Universe." 
Book advertisement, trap to obtain, 3, 
302. 
Book-agent, 9, 422. 
Book-hunter, delights of the, 9, 410, 
411. 
Book-hunger, 4, 150. 
Book infirmary, should be attached to 
every library, 3, 25; the Master's, 
213. 
Book-miser, 9, 409. 
Book of Life, God opens it to doctors, 
5, 325. 
Book of the three maiden sisters, 2, 
230. 
Book-shop, Quaritch's, 10,146-149. 
Book-tasting, 4, 151 ; women in, 157. 
Bookworms, extravagance of, 4, 115; 
picture of a bookworm, 150. 
Books, of a man of family, 1, 22 ; sub- 
tle influence of, 23; candid hate for, 
62; society draws the virtue of best 
reading, 62; easy feeling in their 
presence, 132; sight of, sometimes 
hateful, 134; a woman's and a man's 
use of, 275 ; their greeting, 2, 29 ; old 
books, 210; fate of presentation cop- 
ies of, 3, 301; like leaky boats on a 
sea of wisdom, 302 ; rare, 4, 116; 10, 
148; lists of books, 4, 149; books in 
our libraries which we know by sight 
only, 159; dusting, 6, 370; intimate 
relations between, and their owners, 
7, 78; medical, 177 ; different sorts of, 
8, 352 ; evolution of, 9, 400 ; a scholar 
should not be in a hurry to part with 
his, 408 ; prices of, 149. 
Boot, cast-iron, 2, 207. 
Bootmaker, English, 10, 145. 
Border land of legitimate instincts and 
affections, 6, 151. 
Border lines of knowledge in some prov- 
inces of medical science, 9, 209-272. 
Border states, perilous condition of in 
American civil war, 8, 96. 
Border warfare between England and 
Scotland, 8, 107, 108. 
Bores, all men are, except when we 
want them, 1, 6; the same every- 
where, 279; may be good talkers, 3, 
301; a peculiarity of, 4, 83; special- 
ists may become, 156. 
Boscovich, on our knowledge of mat- 
ter, 8, 264. 
Bossuet, 8, 366. 
Bostock, Dr., his opinion of French 
medical treatment, 9,205; his " Phy- 
siology," 225. 
Boston, Thomas, indebtedness of Ed- 
wards to, for his descriptions of Hell, 
8, 385, 386. 
Boston, Seven wise men of, their sayings, 
1,124; like other places of its size, 126; 
drains a large water-shed of intellect, 
127 ; boating around, 164; walks in, 
165; picturesque spots in, 272, 273; 
the Little Gentleman's pride in, 2, 3; 
has opened turnpikes to free thought 
and speech, 3; early patriots in, 15; 
great macadamizing place, 16; has 
much of England about it, 45; the 
battle of the three-hilled against the 
seven-hilled city, 78; sunsets in, 82; 
thinking centre of the planet, 83; 
wealth and influence fairly divided, 
84; evil results of sneering at, 281; 
heart of the world under it, 301; its 
disfiguring monuments, 4, 104, 105; 
Brattle Street Church, 8, 6, 14; beau- 
tiful suburbs of, 75; fair bosom of, 
76 ; latitude of, 138; Frog pond on the 
Common, 138, 146 ; trees on the Com- 
mon, 139; Granary burial-ground, 163; 
old burial-grounds, 166 ; West Boston 
bridge, 178,181; percentage of phthisis 
in, 206 ; mortality in, from consump- 
tion, 9, 294; epidemics of small-pox 
in, 9,345,346 ; brightness of, remarked 
by Dickens, 10, 23; State House 
dome, 38; blessed centre of New 
England life, 66; provisions for its 
wealthy children, 204. 
Athenaeum, 7, 2. 
Back Bay, 1, 169. 
Chambers Street, 1, 272. 
Charles Street, 1, 273. 
Christ Church, 2, 307. 
Common, 1, 277 ; 2, 42, 316; 3, 313, 
315; duel on, 1, 239. 
Copp's Hill burying-ground, 2, 3, 306, 
316. 
Cornhill, 10, 145. 
Faneuil Hall, 2, 3. 
Essex Street, 1, 272. 
Franklin Place, 1, 272. 
Frog pond, 2, 3; 3, 314. 
Granary burying ground, 1, 239. 
Graveyards, 3, 329. 
Hancock House, 2, 42. 
King's Chapel, 10, 132. 
Montgomery Place, 10, 136. 
Myrtle street, 1, 165, 272. 
North End, 2, 3. 
Paddock elms, 1, 239. 
Park Street Church, 2,11. 218 
INDEX. 
Public Garden, 1, 273. 
Quincy Market, 2, 196. 
State House, 1, 125; 2, 55, 217; 4, 
308. 
Streets, 3, 324. 
West Boston bridge, 2, 2. 
Boston Athenaeum, medical collection 
in, 9, 398. 
Boston Daily Advertiser, quoted, 9, 418. 
Boston girl and New York girl, their 
conversation, 6, 269. 
Boston Natural History Society, 4, 16. 
Boston Public Library, medical collec- 
tion in, 9, 398. 
" Boston Recorder," 7, 4. 
Boston Theatre, accident at, 10, 31. 
Boswell, 1, 280; 10, 139, 154. 
Boteler, Dr., quoted on strawberries, 8, 
153; ] 0, 169. 
Botticelli, 10, 151. 
Bouillaud, 9, 428, 437. 
Boulogne, 10, 161. 
Boundary mark between certain classes, 
the napkin-ring, 7, 298. 
Bouveries, Earls of Radnor, 10, 121. 
Bowditch, Dr. H. I., 9, 296, 397. 
Bowie-knife, 1, 19. 
Bowing both ways at once, 10, 89. 
Box, its fragrance, 5, 437. 
Box, small tin, presented to author, 10, 
13; its useful contents, 16. 
Boxing, 1, 171; behavior of a gentle- 
man in a contest, 172; possible good 
effects of on clergy, 172. 
Boy, a healthy, finds nothing in com- 
mon with child of weakened vitality, 
2, 194 ; finds his materials of thought 
in very simple sources, 8, 251. 
" Boy Bishop," 10, 119. 
"Boy of Windermere," Wordsworth's, 
2, 160: 8, 18. 
Boyer, Baron, 9, 427. 
Boyle, Robert, 3, 216 ; 9, 187, 251, 354. 
Boylston, Zabdiel, first to inoculate for 
small-pox, 9, 347, 418. 
"Boys, The," the Professor dines with, 
1, 121. 
Boys, The, 2, 49. 
Bracelet, antique, 6, 186, 218, 241, 261, 
277, 312. 
Brackets used by the Autocrat, atten- 
tion called to, 1, 201. 
Bradford, Ruth, wife of Selah Withers, 
in The Guardian Angel, accused of 
witchcraft, 6, 24, 93. 
Bradley, Dean, tea with, 10, 30. 
Bradshaw, Mr. William Murray, an am- 
bitious but unscrupulous young man 
in The Guardian Angel, taken into 
partnership with Jacob Penhallow, 6, 
5 ; description of, 44 et seq. ; his plan 
of life laid out, 46; seen to abstract 
document from the Withers family 
papers, 57 et seq. ; begins to show an 
interest in Myrtle's affairs, 64; calls 
in Dr. Hurlbut professionally, 138; 
meets Clement Lindsay, 234 et seq.; 
introduces him to Myrtle, 244; de- 
cides to offer himself to Myrtle, 313 
et seq. ; calls upon Myrtle just as she 
has accepted Clement Lindsay, 390 et 
seq. ; tells his love to Myrtle, 397 et 
seq. ; in rage at her rejection of him, 
he destroys what he supposes to be a 
paper entitling her to a large fortune, 
401 ; enlists as officer in the Civil 
war, 401 ; Myrtle finds him mortally 
wounded, 418 et seq. 
Braham, anecdote of his forgetting a 
song, 2, 24. 
Brahmin caste of New England, not a 
conventional aristocracy, 5, 3 ; social 
type in colleges, 3, 4 ; productive of 
hereditary scholarship, 5 ; never has 
the saddle-leather skin, 286 ; count 
as men, 8, 9. 
Braid, Mr., on hypnotism, 6, 205. 
Brain, possibly a double organ, 1, 74; 
upper and lower stories of, 179 ; like 
clock, 185 ; stimulation of, 187 ; some 
which contain the ovarian eggs of 
future civilization, 195 ; possibility of 
running dry, 2, 22; close resemblance 
of different, 167; Byron's small brain, 
200 ; soul in core of, according to Des- 
cartes, 247; a wick of the lamp of life, 
260; like a tinder-box, 4, 14; action 
through space, 15 ; squinting, 96, 99, 
111, 114, 115, 162, 166, 204, 281, 282; 
6, 205 ; 8, 175; wanting in bilateral 
symmetry, 282, 283 ; crook in the, 6, 
247 ; a three-story, 6,117; how related 
to the heart, 7, 235; cells of, 8, 192; 
best time for work of, 230; neces- 
sary to thought, 263 ; change in blood 
that goes to, after severe mental labor, 
263; a double organ, 264, 267; may 
be inscribed with material records of 
thought, 264; must be fed, 265, 293; 
relative strength of the two halves of, 
268; vast amount of blood sent to, 
292 ; said to be lifted by every stroke 
of the pulse, 320 ; a good, not enough 
without a stout heart, 9, 429. See 
also Automatism ; Memory ; Mind; 
Thought; Unconscious mental action. 
Brain-force, laws of, 4, 16. 
Brain-tappers, 4, 12, 179. 
Brainard, mourning over himself, 8, 397, 
398. 
Brainey, Professor, his phrenological 
analysis of faculties, 2, 201. 
Branded shoulder of French servant, 1, 
106. 
Brant House, Harrisburg, 8, 64. 
Braowne, Arvilly, in Elsie Venner, 5, 
28. 
Brattle Street Church, cannon ball in, 
8, 6, 14. 
Bravery, Revolutionary, believed to have 
died out, 8, 10 ; of the working peo- 
ple overlaid, not smothered, 10. 
Brazer, Dr. James, 9, 303. 
Bread, and the newspaper, 8, 1-15; 
from English bakers' shops, not so 
good as American, 10, 200. INDEX. 
219 
Breadroot, the great industrial product 
of the planet Saturn, 4, 63. 
Bread-tree, as described in " Our Su- 
matra correspondence," 1, 119. 
Breakfast, least convenient time for 
writing, 10, 25; at St. John's Col- 
lege, Cambridge, 78; good one at 
York, 82 ; at Parisian Caf6, 1833, 174. 
Breakfast-Table Series, viz. : vol. 1, The 
Autocrat; vol. 2, The Professor; vol. 
3, The Poet; epilogue to, 3, 349. 
Breaking down, in young men and wo- 
men, 9, 297. 
Beathing, difficult in heart disease, 2, 
257. 
Breeding shows itself in one's religion, 
1, 312; gentle, lies in the wish to be 
agreeable, 2, 133; takes everything 
coolly, 142. 
Breschet, 9, 90, 91. 
Brewster, Jonathan, 9, 355. 
Bridget in The Autocrat, moved by sen- 
timent, 1,100; her wedding-present to 
the Schoolmistress, 1,313; insists that 
Little Gentleman was a Catholic, 2, 
309. 
Bridgeport, Connecticut, 8, 75. 
Bridges of Paris, 10, 175. 
Briggs, Mr., adventures of, compared 
with Mr. Pickwick's, 10, 162. 
Briggs, Abner, the bully of school in 
Pigwacket, in Elsie Venner, 5, 24; 
vanquishes Master Weeks, 25; is 
thrashed by Bernard Langdon, 37-39. 
Briggs, Richard, 4, 163. 
Briggs, Mr. and Mrs., in Elsie Venner, 
5, 92. 
Bright, John, a friend to the North in 
Civil war, 8, 99; 10, 86, 88. 
Bright people sometimes tiresome, 1, 6. 
Bright thought, salability of, 1, 27. 
Bright's disease, patient knows what it 
means, 9, 389. 
Brighton, England, 9, 296; 10, 132- 
135. 
Brinvilliers, Marchioness of, 2, 305. 
" British and Foreign Medical review," 
9, 403. 
British aristocracy, hostile to the North 
in civil war, 8, 97. 
British captain, struck by cannon ball, 
story of, 5, 391. 
British dogmatists, dynasty of, 9, 302. 
British Museum, catalogue of, 9, 405; 
how not to see it, 10, 151 ; Elgin 
Marbles, 152; sculptures from Nine- 
veh, 152; lesson learned from a visit 
to, 152; how to see it, 153. 
Britons once looked on as enemies, 10, 
184. 
Britons' stockades, 2, 245. 
Broad church, 2, 296 ; must have creed 
in the heart and not in head, 298 ; one 
finds what it means in war times, 8, 
11. 
Brodie, Sir Benjamin, 9, 161, 298. 
Broken Circle, The, 10, 111. 
Broken-Victuals Institoot, 5, 132. 
Bronze skin, 3, 67. 
Brook, mountain, 5, 45, 46. 
Brooke, Rev. Stopford, 10, 197. 
Brooks, John, 9, 345. 
Broomstick Train, The, 4, 226, 312. 
Broussais, 9, 186, 188, 205, 319, 429, 430. 
Brown, Professor Alexander Crum, 10, 
83. 
Brown, Dr. John, 9, 286, 293; 10, 83; 
his sister, 83. 
Brown-S^quard, 9,243, 293. 
Brown stone front, 6, 274. 
Browne, Miss Clara, in The Guardian 
Angel, 6, 273. 
Browne, H., of Amesbury, his opinion 
on Stonehenge, 10, 114. 
Browne, Simon, the man without a soul, 
dedication of his Answer to Tindal's 
" Christianity as old as the Creation," 
3, 215. 
Browne, Sir Thomas, a sentiment of 
his, 1, 93 ; quoted, 153. 
Brownell, Henry Howard, 4, 153; 
quoted, 9, 385. 
Browning, Oscar, 10, 78. 
Browning, R., 4, 41; his " Gramma- 
rian's Funeral," 133, 175 ; 10, 28, 37, 
40, 68, 86, 89; a vital element of Lon- 
don Society, 56. 
Brownson, O. A., 5, 324; teachings of, 
8, 419, 420. 
Bruce's Address, alteration of, 1, 47. 
Brummel, Beau, 10, 161. 
Bruno, Giordano, 4, 163. 
Brunonian stimulating treatment, 9, 
258, 261. 
Bryant, 2, 109; 4, 41, 247, 248 ; 7, 5; 
use of facts of observation by, 8,134. 
Bryant and May's safety-matches, 10, 
146. 
Bryce, Professor James, 10, 54. 
" Bub," abbreviation of Beelzebub, 3,7. 
Bucephalus Capensis, 5, 223. 
Buck, Jefferson, in Elsie Venner, 5, 97. 
Buckminster, J. S., son of a clergyman, 
8, 411. 
Buckwheat, "fragrant," 8, 107. 
" Budget, A, of Paradoxes," by Augus- 
tus De Morgan, 4, 161. 
Buenos Ayres, " the City of wholesome 
breezes," 5, 154. 
Buffaloes, 2, 236. 
Bugbee, Miss Rose, in The Guardian 
Angel, 6, 272, 287. 
Bullet going through glass without 
glancing, 5, 330. 
Bumble-bee, 9, 416. 
Bumps. See Phrenology. 
Bumpus and Crane, Messrs., their Phy- 
siological Emporium of phrenology, 
2, 196. 
Bun, 'lection, 2, 42; 8, 146; offered 
before dinner as a test of age, 57. 
Buncle, John. See John Buncle, 10, 
182. 
Bunker Hill, battle of, 10, 75; igno- 
rance concerning, 10, 92 ; monument, 
rocking of, 1, 286; monument, 3, 95, 220 
INDEX. 
148, 149, 166; 10, 194; man of the 
monument, 3, 151, 166. 
Bunyan, John, quotation from, 3, 276; 
anticipates Galton and the Professor, 
303 ; " Pilgrim's Progress," 6, 76 ; 
quoted, 8, 48, 388; his Christian a 
victim of melancholia, 8, 416; 10, 
186. 
Burdach, 9, 219. 
Burial grounds, change their outward 
aspect less than other places, 3, 329; 
old, in Boston, Watertown, Cam- 
bridge, and Dorchester, 8, 166; in 
Andover, 256, 257; in Boston, van- 
dalism in, 1, 239, 240. 
Burke-and-Hare business, 8, 44; 10, 65. 
Burnett, Waldo, 9, 299. 
Burning chamber, a party is Society's, 
Burning cross seen at night, 6, 91, 95. 
Burns, R., proposed alteration of line 
in his " Scots wha hae," 1, 47 ; cen- 
tenary, 2, 26; his friendship must 
have been a terrible thing, 241; quoted, 
4, 253; method of composing verses, 
8 , 286, 287 ; Dr. Holmes's verses on, 
314 ; influence of, on Scotch theology, 
431; haunts of, 10, 186. 
Burns, treatment of, 9, 68. 
Burnt toad, practice of giving as a 
remedy, 9, 262, 280, 331. 
Burroughs, George, 2, 262. 
Burroughs, J., on the coming of the dan- 
delion, 8, 143; enthusiastic descrip- 
tions of, 183. 
Burton's " Anatomy," quoted, 8, 334. 
Bush, Paul, 9, 320. 
Bushnell, H., theory of the moral world, 
8, 328. 
Bust of Liberty, in The Guardian An- 
gel, 6, 245 ; 251 et seq. 
Butcher, The, the Manuscript Reader so 
called, in The Guardian Angel, 6,304 
et seq. 
Butler, Lady Eleanor, 10, 186. 
Butler, W. A., 8, 351. 
Buttercups, 2, 231. 
Butterfly, image of the beatified spirit, 
1, 113. 
Butters, Rev. Mr., in Elsie Penner, 5, 
166. 
Button wood, 1, 153. 
Butts, Dr., a prominent character in 
A Mortal Antipathy: his characteris- 
tics, 7, 82 et seq.; studies the his- 
tory of antipathies, 83, 87, 88 ; reads 
paper before the Pansophian Society, 
166 et seq.; calls on Miss Tower, 186; 
Maurice Kirkwood becomes his pa- 
tient, 202 et seq.; his reflections upon 
Kirkwood's story, 240 et seq. ; his let- 
ter to Mrs. Kirkwood, 296; his letter 
to Mrs. Butts, 301. 
Byles, Mather, facetiae of, 8, 409. 
Byloe, Nurse, in The Guardian Angel, 
6, 7 ; defends Myrtle's character, 11, 
15 ; her art of handling the young, 28; 
sent for to take care of Myrtle, 28; 
grows watchful of influence of Dr. 
Hurlbut over Myrtle, 139. 
Byron, Lord, 4, 49, 86; his line about 
"striking the electric chain," 1, 78; 
" Edinburgh Review's " attempt to 
put down Master George Gordon, 296; 
his small brain, 2, 200; his deformity, 
278 ; quoted, 10, 17, 74. 
Cabalistic sentence, 4, 164. 
Cabalistic teachers, belief of, 9, 33. 
Cabinet desk, discovery of a secret 
drawer in, 2, 91. 
Cabinet, mysterious, in The. Professor, 
contents of, 2, 304. 
Cabinet, of the United States, theft and 
perjury in, 8, 86. 
Cabot, Mr., on birds, 8, 179, 183. 
Cacoethes scribendi, 4, 93. 
Cache, children instinctively make a, 1, 
204. 
Caddice-worm, 3, 211. 
Cadenus, captivating Stella and Vanes- 
sa, 2, 89. 
Caesars, 6, 222. 
Caf6 Anglais, Paris, 10, 175. 
Caf6 Procope, Paris, 10, 166-168. 
Caffe Pedrocchi, Padua, a mausoleum 
called a place of entertainment, 8, 
64. 
Cake, varieties of, 6, 109 ; birthday, for 
author, 10, 181. 
Calais, 10, 7; associated with Sterne, 
161. 
Calamities grow old rapidly in propor- 
tion to their magnitude, 1, 31; recol- 
lection of, returns freshly after first 
sleep, 32; act like a stain, 8, 4; im- 
pressions of great, 4. 
Calculating, Babbage's machine for, 1, 
8; least human of qualities, 9. 
Caleb, the son of Jephunneh, 4, 25, 34. 
" Caleb Williams," 6, 275. 
Calef, Robert, burning of his book on 
witchcraft, 2, 8 ; 8, 414; quoted on 
the clergy, 8,413, 414. 
Calhoun, J. C., 4, 45; 8, 83. 
Call him not old, whose visionary brain, 
1,174. 
Callouses, 2, 259. 
Calmet's Dictionary, 6, 371. 
Calomel, 2, 112 ; 9, 275. 
Calton Hill, Edinburgh, 10, 83. 
Caltrops, 1, 295. 
Calumet, owned by Autocrat, 1, 102. 
Calvin, in a state of religious barbarism, 
2, 106 ; criticised by Bancroft, 3, 184; 
preface to his Institutes, 9, 310. 
Calvinism, 6, 17 ; 8, 380. 
Cam River, 10, 71, 77. 
Cambridge, England, visit to, 10,71-73 ; 
rooms in Trinity, 71 ; relationship 
with, 72; second visit, 74-79 ; degree 
of Doctor of Letters, 75; demonstra- 
tive students, 76; cordial reception 
at, 76; extract from Latin speech, 76; 
leaves delightful impression, 77; the 
gathering of boats, 77; the river, 77; INDEX. 
221 
library of Trinity College, 77 ; King's 
College chapel, 77; dinner at Vice- 
Chancellor's, 78 ; hospitalities, 78; 
breakfast at St. John's College, 78 ; 
verses from "Lines of Greeting" to 
author by Mr. Heitland, 79. 
Cambridge, Massachusetts, flats of, 1, 
170 ; in the author's boyhood, 7, 25, 
26; arsenal guarded by students, 8, 
12; East, chimneys of, 77 ; Commence- 
ment at, 158-161; old burial ground 
at, 166; appearance of, and of Cam- 
bridgeport in 1820, 240 ; daughter of 
Cambridge in England, 10, 72. 
Cambridgeport, appearance of in 1820, 
8, 240; Port school, 240-243. 
Camden, William, 10, 98, 103. 
Camel, 2, 236. 
Campbell, Dr., cases of puerperal fever, 
9,157 et seq. 
Campbell, Thomas, misquotation of, 1, 
71; his " Gertrude of Wyoming," 8, 
49. 
Camperdown, Lady, 10, 41. 
Campo Santo, 7, 28. 
Canal, spinal, 9, 243. 
Canal boats, mighty passion to be cap- 
tain of one, 8, 21. 
Canary birds, 1, 86 ; 6, 59. 
Candidates, trial of, for pulpit, 5, 473, 
474. 
Candles in railroad cars, 8, 52. 
Candlestick, seven-branched, 3 , 332. 
Candor liable to degenerate into weak- 
ness, 9, 2. 
Canker worm, 8, 151; its omega-like 
shape, 152. 
Cannibalism, 3,150 ; literary, 4, 23. 
Cannon, story of British captain struck 
by cannon-ball, 5, 391; firing, to raise 
bodies of the drowned, 6, 15. 
Canoe, white, in A Mortal Antipathy, 7, 
53. 
Canoe Meadow, in Berkshire mountains, 
2, 245; 5, 266; 10, 77. 
Cant or slang, worse than punning, 1, 
256. 
Cantabridge, three maiden sisters at, 2, 
230 ; arrowheads from there, 245 ; mys- 
terious young stranger in, 7, 60. 
Canterbury, Archbishop of (E. W. Ben- 
son), 10, 73. 
Canute, King, 3, 187, 267. 
Cap, spinster's, of the lasciate ogni spe- 
ranza pattern, 6, 346. 
Capacity, most of us overrate our, 4, 312. 
Cape Ann, the magnolia on, 2, 244. 
Capital punishment. See Punishment. 
Capitalist, in The Poet, his economics, 
3, 40; treated by Dr. B. Franklin, 
253 ; his unexpected generosity, 346. 
Capsheaf girls, in The Guardian Angel, 
6, 289. 
Capsheaf, Miss Victoria, 6, 312. 
Capsulae suprarenales, 3, 68. 
Captive, who preserved his reason by 
means of a pin, 6, 74. 
Caput mortuum, 3, 281. 
Caravan hastening over desert, dying 
compared to, 2, 276. 
Carbon as fuel in human economy, 1, 
155. 
Carbonate of lime as prepared by Hah- 
nemann for medicine, 9, 44. 
Cardanus, 6, 222. 
Cardinal flower, 8,156. 
Caricatures in "Punch," 10, 42. 
Carlyle, Thomas, 3, 265 ; 7, 17, 88,177; 
his " Characteristics," 1, 55; on Bos- 
well, 280; his picture of an editor, 4, 
10; smoking with his mother, 33 ; 
clotted English of, 9,302; 10,136-138; 
his house at Chelsea, 136,137, 140; on 
Coleridge in "Life of Sterling," 139; 
his meddling with our anti-slavery con- 
flict, 140; his wife, 140. 
"Carmen," Marie Roze in, 10, 73. 
Carpenter, Miss, belief of, in regard to 
criminals, 8, 345. 
Carpenter's bench, Autocrat's, 1,180. 
Carpet in " Arabian Nights," wished for, 
10, 160. 
Carriages, of friends, 10, 28; waiting 
for, after a party, 45, 46. 
Carstairs, William, tortured, 8, 395. 
Cartilage, 9, 229; fibro-cartilage, 230. 
Casaubon, preface of, 9, 310. 
Cashmere shawl, old, 1, 312. 
Casper, Dr., his statistics of phthisis, 8, 
206. 
Cassia, the Doctor's mare, in Elsie Ven- 
ner, 5, 137, 138. 
Caste, Brahmin, in New England. See 
Brahmin caste. 
" Castle of Otranto," 6, 275. 
Castles, Ruskin's aversion to a country 
without, 3, 11. 
Casuistical divinity, 6, 162. 
Cats : superannuated cat, her enviable 
lot, 4, 34; antipathy for, 5, 443; 7, 
64, 242. 
Catalepsy, 2, 237. 
Catalogues, literature of, 10, 146; 
Quaritch's, 148,149. 
Catamount, 6, 19, 125. 
Caterpillar, alluded to by Miss Rossetti, 
8, 153; racing with a canker-worm, 
153 ; on Tennyson's estate, 10, 191. 
Cathedrals, dream of one, 5, 408-410; 
flowers of stone from aerolites as 
seeds, 8, 84 ; glorify a town, 9, 399. 
Chester, 10, 19, 20. 
Salisbury, 10, 108, 109, 118, 119,121. 
Wells, 10, 186. 
Cato, chief speaker in " De Senectute," 
1, 156, 158 ; learned Greek when old, 
159 ; thought of learning to play the 
fiddle, 163. 
Cattle-sense of those content to be led 
in spiritual matters, 5, 254. 
Catullus, his story of the cockney Ro- 
man, 3, 324. 
Cause, a great, makes great souls, 6, 
415. 
Cavendish, Lady Edward, 10, 42. 
Cavern, sunless, under road, 2,179. 222 
INDEX. 
Cedar Lake, in A Mortal Antipathy, 7, 
36. 
Cedar of Lebanon, 10, 189. 
Celebrations, American and English, 
4, 272 et seq. 
Celebrities of to-day all look alike, 3, 
103. 
Celebrity, a literary, experiences of, 7, 
139 140. 
Celibacy, 4, 68 ; 6, 325 ; 7, 245. 
Cells, of the human body, 8,192, 193 ; 9, 
228,233 ; necessity of supplying proper 
materials for, 252. 
Cemeteries. See Burial grounds. 
Centenarians, well-known, 4, 26. 
Central church, Boston, spire of, 10, 
193, 194. 
Central Park, 8, 74 ; to be compared, not 
with Boston Common, but with su- 
burban scenery of Boston, 75; Cen- 
tral Park eccentric, 75. 
Centrifugal principle of separation of a 
family, 5, 152. 
Cephalonia, the, 10, 13. 
Cerebral action, spasmodic, not alto- 
gether an evil, 1, 189. 
Cerebral induction, 4, 15. 
Cerebral strabismus. See Squinting 
brain. 
Cerebration, passive, 3, 316. 
Cerebricity, 4, 15, 166. 
Certificates of recommendation like os- 
trich eggs, 6, 17. 
" C6sar Birotteau," 7, 234, 235. 
Chadwick, James R., 9, 398. 
Chair, fantastic, 6, 182, 184. 
Challenge offered to homoeopathic phy- 
sician in Paris in 1835, 9, 62. 
Chamber, the Little Gentleman's, the 
Professor's entrance into, 2,255 ; solu- 
tion of the mysteries in, 307-309. 
Chambered Nautilus, The, 1, 97 ; verse 
of, copied for Princess of Wales, 10, 
56. 
Chambers, the oarsman, died of con- 
sumption, 8, 230. 
Chambers, John, bishop, 9, 320. 
Chambers Street, Boston, 1, 272. 
Chameleons, human beings are all, 8, 
199. 
Chamouni, 1, 267. 
Chambre Ardente, 6, 94. 
Champion of aggressive liberty, it is 
said, ought to reach the same gallows 
as the arch-traitor, 8, 89. 
Champion of the Heavy Weights, 1, 56. 
Champlain, Lake, malaria about, 8,207 ; 
9, 324. 
Champs Elysdes, 10,176. 
Chancery, court of, 2, 106. 
Changes in methods of medical treat- 
ment, 9, 175, 258 et seq. 
Channel, English, passage of, 10, 161, 
178. 
Channing, 2, 16; his Baltimore dis- 
course, 117. 
Chaos, precedes artistic creation, 6,221. 
Chapin, W. D., 9, 406. 
Chaplain, the, 8, 28-43. 
Character, negative virtues lead to 
emaciation of, 1, 262; must have a 
weak spot or two before we can love 
it, 2, 72; study of, as by triangulation, 
90; genius should marry, 287; its 
force in life, 288; affected by soil, 3, 
21; sudden development of, 306; 
shaped by surrounding conditions, 4, 
40; influenced by diet, 185; the mo- 
ther's, more important to most chil- 
dren than the father's creed, 247. 
" Characteristics," Carlyle's, 1, 55. 
Characters, development of, by writers, 
4, 5; confusion of, in the reader's 
mind, 53. 
Charitable institutions, establishment 
of, 9, 350. 
Charity of the old for the failings of 
others, 4, 46. 
Charles I., his death warrant, 10, 52, 
53; opening of his coffin, 96. 
Charles II., of England, 9, 4. 
Charles Martel, 8, 107. 
Charles River, boating on, 1, 164; has 
a voice full of meaning, 2, 246; either 
Hiddekel or Euphrates, 8, 153; not 
more real than the Avon, 10, 132. 
Charles Street, Boston, 1, 273. 
Charlestown Navy Yard, 1, 206; lofty 
chimneys of, 8, 76. 
" Charley," friend of " the Captain," 8, 
51, 70. 
Charming by serpents, 6, 190, 191, 205 
et seq. See also Rattlesnakes. 
Chartier, Alain, kiss given, 2, 268. 
Chasse-cafe, 10, 207. 
Chatterton, 2, 241. 
Chatwood's safes, 9, 288. 
Chaucer, compared to a pear, 1, 83; 
quoted, 8, 302 n., 376 ; 9, 376. 
Chauncy, Charles, both doctor and min- 
ister, 8, 406 ; 9, 329; sons of, both 
doctors and ministers, 9, 329. 
Check book, Autocrat's experience with, 
2, 22. 
Cheerfulness, desirable in a doctor, 2, 
143; in a clergyman, 144; its part in 
the attainment of long life, 4, 182. 
Cheeses, old, cathedrals resemble, 10, 
20. 
Chelsea, England, 4, 278; Carlyle's 
house at, 10, 136, 137, 140. 
Chelsea beach, gathering of animals on, 
2, 164. 
Chelydra serpentina, 6, 125. 
Chemical school of medicine, good dona 
by, 9, 319. 
Chemist's shop, library compared to, 2, 
25. 
Chemistry, animal, 8, 187-190; of eggs, 
187-189; its contributions to our 
knowledge, 9, 212; debt of medicine 
to, 274 ; there was none 250 years ago, 
281; apt to spoil on one's hands, 372. 
See also Allotropism. 
Cheshire cheese, 10, 20. 
Chess, played by masters of the game, 1, INDEX. 
223 
64; players of, evenly matched, 2, 
167; life a game of, 4, 66; 6, 
238. 
Chester, 10, 18, 19; daisies at, 19; 
cathedral, 19, 20. 
Chester and Lancaster counties, the 
England of Pennsylvania, 8, 51. 
Chesterfield, Lord, quoted as to Bath, 
10, 107. 
Chevreul, Michel Eugene, 4, 27. 
Cheyne, Sir John, his bones, 10, 120. 
Cheyne Walk and Row at Chelsea, 10, 
136. 
Chichester cathedral, spire of, 10,118. 
Chickweed, one of the first spring flow- 
ers, 8, 139. 
Child in French hospital, sweet voice of, 
1, 216. 
Childhood, impressions of, 2, 186-189 ; 
preservation of the sensibilities of, 
6, 209; brings its inspiration from 
God, 8, 92. 
Children, as reared, superstitious and 
spiritual cowards, 1, 204 ; instinctive 
reserve, 204; superstitious observ- 
ances of, 205; unfulfilled promises 
made by, 207 ; first act of wrong, 209; 
their disgust for heaven, 2, 185; in- 
difference to earthly things, 193; such 
are like windfalls, 194; disgust ex- 
cited in healthy childhood by instances 
of early spiritual development, 194, 
195; directness of logic, 209; aged 
features in some, 239; modified by 
the soil of the region in which they 
are born, 3, 20, 21; their likeness to 
animals, 82; some who form friend- 
ships with ophidians, 5, 220, 224, 397; 
easy to criticise other people's method 
of dealing with, 271 ; at first purely 
selfish, 321; hard to hold them ac- 
countable for inherited tendencies, 
322, 323; of Ann-Street and Five- 
Points, 324; a personal equation in 
their tempers, 421; theory that all 
their motives and instincts are radi- 
cally wrong, 6, 30 ; may be whipped 
into obedience, not into virtue, 8, 
306; cruelty of, 307, 308 n. ; killed by 
drinking hot water from spouts of 
tea-kettles, 327 ; congenitally crimi- 
nal, 337, 338; Jonathan Edwards on 
the nature of, 393; of clergymen, 411; 
creed of clergymen's, 421; their ten- 
dencies early betrayed, 9, 245; com- 
plexion of English, 10, 22; wealthy, 
provision for, in Boston, 204. 
China ware, Mr. Nightingale's collection 
of, 10, 116. 
"China," the hymn, a cry of despair, 
6, 80. 
Chinese, not in a condition to listen to 
modern civilization, 8, 325,326; carv- 
ers, 388; punishment of, 10, 89. 
Chipmunk, 10, 148. 
Chiron, M. D., 5, 139. 
Chloroform, effect on the Professor, 1, 
295 ; a few whiffs of, secure a visit to 
the world of death with perhaps no 
return ticket, 8, 265. 
Choice, exercise of, includes the moral 
universe, 8, 301. 
Cholera, 9, 72, 352. 
Chomel, 9,431. 
Christ, 1, 287 ; his fondness for talking 
at meat, 2,32; loved healthy as well as 
sickly children, 195 ; life full of senti- 
ment, 313; Jewish estimate of, 8, 47 ; 
his sepulchre not in Palestine, 117. 
Christ church, Boston, 2, 307. 
"Christabel," Coleridge's, quoted, 2, 
208 ; 5, 220, 225. 
Christian, prince, 10, 35, 89. 
Christian, princess, 10, 89. 
Christian equality alone can prevent 
social divisions, 2, 134. 
Christian heathenism, 4, 250. 
Christian optimism, 8, 430. 
Christian pessimists, 8, 425, 431; favor- 
ite tunes of, 6, 80; natural antagonists 
of, 431, 432. 
Christian sects, should be polite to each 
other, 4, 196. 
Christians, widely different in the North 
and South, 8, 105. 
Christianity, compared to an ark, 2, 
218; slow work launching it, 219 ; full 
of sentiment, 302. 
Christopher, Saint, of Paris, 1, 88. 
" Chronological History of New Eng- 
land," by Thomas Prince, 3, 121. 
Chryso-aristocracy, American, weak 
point in, 1, 260. 
Church, Benjamin, 9, 345. 
Church, of Saint Polycarp, 2, 211; of 
the Galileans, its simple worship, 213; 
impossibility of a universal, 296 ; com- 
pared to a garden, 296. 
Church door, human skin nailed to, 
1, 108. 
Church-going, its humanizing effect, 3, 
193. 
Churchill the poet, quoted, 5, 224. 
Cicero's " De Senectute," 1, 150; a leis- 
urely performance, 156; imaginary 
report of it delivered as a lyceum 
lecture, 157. 
Cid, Chronicle of, rare edition of, 10,149. 
Cider, useful for dyspepsia, 8, 224. 
Cigars, 1, 102; 2, 137. 
Ciliary muscle, 9, 249. 
Cinchona, experiments of M. Double 
and M. Bonnet with, 9, 61; claims to 
the credit of introducing, 443. 
Ciphering hand-organ, calculating ma- 
chine called, 1,9. 
Circe, a, who turns her victims into 
lambs, 4, 217, 238. 
Circle about intellect, 1, 266. 
Circumstances, conviction of having 
been in precisely the same before, 8, 
299. 
Citadel of belief, the fewer its out- 
works the better, 3, 319. 
Cities, esteem in which each is held by 
its inhabitants, 1, 126; charms of 224 
INDEX. 
smaller ones, 128; leaking of nature 
into, 273; American, comparisons of, 
2, 84-87; gain to health from life 
in, 3, 278 ; provincialism of, 4, 277 ; 
excitements of, 5, 160, 161; places to 
mature beauty of all kinds, 303, 304 ; 
advantages of large, for seeing much 
disease in a little time, 9, 373. 
Citizen, a good enough term for any- 
body, 4, 222; simple preventive 
against injustice to, 8, 110; difference 
between a good and bad, 110. 
City of wholesome breezes (Buenos 
Ayres), 6, 154. 
Civil war of 1861. See American civil 
war. 
Civility a Christian virtue, 4,195 et seq. 
Civilization, future, the ovarian eggs of, 
carried by half a dozen men, 1, 195 ; 
as influenced by clergy, 2, 8; in dan- 
ger of seniie dementia, 11 ; confront- 
ing of two civilizations, 36; necessi- 
ties of modern, 283; power of, over 
natural forces, 3, 271; a foundling 
hospital, 4, 54; crowds out supersti- 
tions, 254, 255; state of medicine an 
index of, 9, 313; old, deeply buried, 
10, 106. 
Clairvoyance, 6, 394 ; 7, 177; 8, 18, 
270. 
Clams, effect of, on the Pilgrims, 9, 315; 
thanks offered over a dish of, 321, 322. 
Clarendon Park, 10, 110. 
Clark, Dr. John, 9, 195, 326, 327, 343. 
Clark, William, his epitaph, 2, 306. 
Clarke, Dr. Edward H., 7, 15-17. 
Clarke, James Freeman, 2, 49; 4, 28, 
29, 30, 34, 68, 196. 
Clarke, Dr. Joseph, on puerperal fever, 
9, 156; and the Dublin hospital, 294, 
364. 
Clarke, Pitt, typical example of the 
union of doctor and clergyman, 8, 
406. 
Clarke, Samuel, on free will, 8, 378. 
Class of 1829, Harvard College, 4, 28; 
10, 111. 
Class-teaohing, only way of, 9, 299. 
Classes, spiritual standard of different, 
2, 121. 
Classics and modern literature, 4, 158. 
Claude Lorraine, 10, 127, 170. 
Clay, Henry, silver tones of, 8, 83. 
Cleaveland, Prof., meteorological record 
of, 8, 175,183. 
Cleopatra, 4, 284. 
Clergymen, rarely hear sermons, 1, 
29 ; many of their patients not only 
fools and cowards, but also liars, 86 ; 
their part in civilization, 2, 8 ; respect 
expressed for, 104; should be cheer- 
ful, 144 ; varieties of, 3, 16, 17 ; char- 
acteristics of, 125; Perkinism en- 
dorsed by many, 9, 25, 26. See also 
Ministers, Priests. 
Clerks in "stores,'' 5, 174. 
Cleveland, Father, 4, 26. 
Clever people do not hate each other,!, 3. 
Clift, Mr. William, 10, 4, 7. 
Clifton, England, 9, 296. 
Climacteric, the grand, 4, 30, 38. 
Climate, influences of, produce new pat- 
terns of humanity, 1, 171; to be cut 
according to your constitution, 265; 
effect on hospitality, 302; American, 
predisposes to morbid religious excite- 
ment, 6, 155; of New England, trying, 
8, 206, 207 ; problem of, in medicine, 
9, 296 ; of Massachusetts, 320-322; of 
England, 10, 187, 204, 206. 
Clinical teaching, 9, 273-311. 
Clock, compared with the brain, 1, 185; 
at Andover Seminary, 287 ; the Terri- 
ble, Number Five's story of, 4, 169; 
an old-fashioned, 6, 34. 
Clodius, 6, 266. 
Clopton, Sir Hugh, 10, 94. 
Closet, in old house, 1, 78; contents of 
old, 6, 77. 
Clothing, well enough understood by 
men, 8, 226, 227. 
Clowns, melancholy people, 2, 312. 
Club-foot, 2, 9. 
Clubs, benefits of, 1,63; of London, 10, 
198. 
Coale, Dr., 9, 416. 
Coarse people, 3, 275; in the profes- 
sions, 2, 263. 
Coat, constructed on a priori grounds, 1, 
67; a scholar's, 6, 113. 
Cobbe, Frances Power, 10,41, 56. 
Cobra, 5, 223. 
Cocaine, 4, 251. 
Cock, man who looked like a, 5, 222. 
Cockney, Roman, 3, 324. 
Coffee, its depressing effects, 1, 246, 
248 ; exhilaration of the morning cup 
of, 4, 6 ; effects of, in excess, 8, 224. 
Coffin, Admiral Sir Isaac, 2, 52. 
Coffin, Long Tom, 5,139. 
Coincidences, 1, 73, 75 ; 2, 56; curious 
instance of, 4, 13, 18, 19, 304; be- 
tween manners and speech of anti- 
quity and those of our own time, 3, 
323 ; periods of, continual, 8, 17, 18 ; 
illustrating alleged plagiarisms, 45, 
287, 288; of match-box of Drs. Holmes 
and Thompson, 45; of Dr. Holmes's 
name, 45 ; in medical practice, 9, 75; 
between great political and intellectual 
periods and the appearance of great 
medical reformers, 177. 
Coins, 3, 111; 7,154 et seq. 
Coke, Sir Edward, limit of amount of 
sleep, 8, 231. 
Cold-blooded creatures, 1, 130. 
Cold feet, a good sign when writing, 1, 
7. 
Cold in summer, persons in easy circum- 
stances suffer from, 1, 265. 
Cold seeds, the four great, 9, 280. 
Cold snap, 8, 177, 178. 
Coleridge, Lord and Lady, 10, 89. 
Coleridge, advised literary men to have 
a profession, 1,179 ; 8, 231; " Christa- 
bel " quoted, 2, 208 ; 5,220, 225; quot- 225 
ed on Newgate Calendar, 3, 263,265 ; 
" Genevieve " quoted, 6, 316, 389 ; 7, 
233, 246; " Ancient Mariner " quoted, 
7,91 ; 8,202 ; " 2Eolian Harp " quoted, 
8, 287 ; " Remorse " quoted, 8, 355; 
silver speech of, 9, 302; what he says of 
Johnson, 10, 139 ; his conversation as 
reported by Dibdin, 139; De Quincey's 
admiration of, 139; Carlyle's portrait 
of, 139. 
Colet, Louise, 7,137,138. 
Coliseum, 1, 280. 
College boys. See Boys, The. 
College tricks, 2, 58; college libraries 
fated to burn up, 62; college dormi- 
tory, strange breach in walls of, 187; 
college theatricals, 4, 17 ; two social 
types in American colleges, 6, 314. 
Collier, the artist, 10, 151. 
Collins, Mr., the English Paganini, 10, 
5. 
Colman farm in Deerfield, large elm on, 
1, 288. 
Colonial exhibition, 10, 155. 
Color, effect of, on health, 8, 210, 211. 
Color-blindness, moral, 8, 380. 
Colored regiment. See Negro regiment. 
Combe, George, 9, 245. 
Combination Room, Cambridge, Eng- 
land, 10, 78. 
Combinations, chemical, law of, 9, 215. 
Come ! fill a fresh bumper, -for why 
should we go ! 1, 48. 
Comedians, melancholy people, 2, 312. 
Comets, 1, 24 ; 8, 357. 
Comfort, essential to enjoyments, 1, 
265; provisions for, on board ship, 10, 
13, 14. 
Comic papers, 8, 286. 
Commencement, 8, 158-161; and other 
celebrations, 4, 272 et seq. 
Commodores of the last generation, 5, 8. 
Common, Boston, 1, 277; 2, 42, 316 ; 
duel on, 1,239; as a place for studying 
the heavens, 3,313; tradition regard- 
ing one of its paths, 315. 
Common-place people sometimes have a 
deep inner life, 3, 204, 205. 
Common-place, the wish to be remarka- 
ble is, 1, 290. 
Common sense, 1, 14 ; 5, 396 ; watchful- 
ness of, 2, 89; and science, 3, 120. 
Commons boarders at Harvard College, 
a trick of, 2, 58. 
Communications received by the Auto- 
crat, 1, 289. 
Communications, military, of far more 
importance in America than in Eu- 
rope, 8, 23. 
Communion, admission of unconverted 
persons to, 8, 392. 
Companionship in worship, 4, 258. 
Company on board ship, 10,14. 
Comparative theology as necessary as 
comparative anatomy, 3, 149. 
Comparison, the Autocrat relinquishes 
claim on a clever one, 1, 145; of mer- 
its in American cities, 2, 86. 
INDEX. 
Compensation, an instance of, in the 
sensibility accompanying early decay, 
2, 195; system of, in the distribution 
of talents and instincts, 8, 313. 
Complementary aspect of objects in 
poetry and art, 1, 181. 
Complexions, fresh, 2, 45; of English 
children, 10, 22. 
Compliments, some advice in regard to 
paying them, 3, 208. 
Compositions, girls', 6, 70. 
Compromisers trying to curve the 
straight lines of eternal law, 8, 81. 
Compton, Lady William, 10, 97, 98. 
Compton Wynyate, an interesting Eng- 
lish mansion, 10, 97, 98. 
Conceit, is to character as salt to ocean, 
1, 9; as natural as centre to a circle, 
10 ; the audacious sort always impos- 
ing, 10 ; makes people cheerful, 10. 
Concert at Lady Rothschild's, 10, 46. 
Condescension, graciousness mistaken, 
3, 55. 
Condie, Dr., on puerperal fever, 9, 124, 
143. 
Confederate prisoners. See Prisoners, 
Confederate. 
Confederate states, cold calculation of, 
8, 94 ; allies of, in the North, 96; con- 
dition of, in 1863, 101; " unanimity " 
of, 102; Unionists in, 103; fanaticism 
for slavery in, sincere, 105; highest 
culture in, 106 ; Southerners the Sara- 
cens of the 19th century, 106. 
Confessional not unknown in Protestant- 
ism, 6, 160. 
Confessor, sphere of, 9, 364. 
Confidence, the way to obtain, to da- 
serve, 9, 383. 
Congenital inheritances. See Inherited 
tendencies. 
Congenital sinfulness, 5, 256. 
Congestion of the portal system, 9, 389. 
Congregational singing, 2, 215; imper- 
fections of, 216. 
Congregationalists, history of, in New 
England, 8, 404; national council of, 
in 1865, 408. 
Congress boots made for author in Lon- 
don, 10, 145. 
Connecticut Medical Society, 9, 20. 
Connecticut valley, 1, 244. 
Conscience, its approval or disapproval, 
2, 209; paralysis of, 3, 268; a sick, 
5,169; may be unscrupulous, 170; not 
to be reasoned with, 317 ; a tender, 
supported by the trembling knees of 
a weak intelligence, 8, 81; impossi- 
ble to prevent the uprising of, against 
a great wrong, 93. 
Conscious life the aim and end of crea- 
tion, 3, 105. 
Consciousness, one latch-key of, fits 
many doors, 4,10; area of, 11; modu- 
lated or musical, 8, 271, 272. 
Consciousness, Dual. See Dual con- 
sciousness. 
Conservation of force, 9, 217. 226 
INDEX. 
Conservative, a bad sort portrayed, 2, 
15. 
Consistent people apt to contradict 
themselves, 2, 34. 
Consolations of religion, 2, 292; of old 
age, 4, 46. 
Conspirators painted of dark hue, 2, 
229. 
Constitution, early collapse of in Ameri- 
can female, 1, 43; should decide one 
In choosing summer residence, 265 ; 
meaning of, 8 , 203-206. 
Constitution, frigate, proposed demoli- 
tion of, made the subject of an early 
poem by the author, 7, 8. 
Constitution of the United States, the 
North fighting for, 8, 116. 
Consumption, called " White plague of 
the North," 6, 140 ; tendency of nuns 
toward, 8, 2; relative mortality from, 
in various cities, 206; seems to be 
arrested by a vegetable diet, 218; lia- 
bility of athletes to, 230; Giles Fir- 
min's treatment of, 9, 283; mortality 
fro n, in Boston, 294; Sydenham's 
treatment of, 344; Massachusetts 
doctors on, 352. 
Contagion, in sickness, 2, 119; carried 
by physicians, 9, 195. See also Puer- 
peral fever. 
Contemplation, necessary conditions of, 
3, 106. 
Contentment, 1, 268. 
Continuations almost always sag a lit- 
tle, 4, 307. 
Contracts, written in blood, 2,189. 
Contradiction, may turn a good talker 
into an insufferable bore, 3, 301; per- 
petual, a pelting hail-storm, 4, 281. 
Contraria contrariis, in medicine, 9,318. 
Controversy, equalizes fools and wise 
men, 1, 114. 
Conundrums indulged in at Boarding- 
house, 1, 251. 
Conversation, a serious matter, 1, 5, 
6; prevailing faults of, 10 ; spoiled by 
certain kinds of argument, 10 ; a code 
of finalities necessary to, 11; com- 
pared to Italian game of mora, 15; 
shapes thoughts, 27 ; Blair-ing of, 40; 
should not be too literal, 52 ; one of 
the fine arts, 52; compared to chess- 
playing, 64; depends on taking things 
for granted, 64; ruts and grooves of, 
65; instance of the veneered sort, 
143; with a stranger, 2, 30 ; mechan- 
ical talk of pretty women, 30; women 
can keep their minds detached from 
their talk, 31; skirmishing at begin- 
ning of, 35; easiness in, 139 ; common- 
place character of ordinary, 3, 246; 
in mixed company should be sugges- 
tive rather than exhaustive, 4, 6; 
" symphony concert " of, 52 ; at Lon- 
don dinners, 10, 199, 200. See also 
Talking. 
Conversationalist, discomfort of being 
thought one, 3,44. 
Conversazione and fSte in the parish of 
St. James Maryleboue, 4, 274 e< seq. 
Conversion, unconsciousness of, in some 
cases, 6, 162; its paroxysmal charac- 
ter, 194. 
Convert to an old faith, is shaky in parts, 
6, 418; cannot enter into its work- 
ing conditions, 456. 
Convicts, pine for tobacco more than for 
freedom, 8,225; prisons for, in France, 
345. 
Conway, the actor, 4, 284. 
Conybeare, Mrs., daughter of Mr. Her- 
komer, 10, 80. 
Cooke, Elisha, 9, 345. 
Cookeson, William, of All-Souls Col- 
lege, his autograph, 1, 87. 
" Cool as a cucumber," a Galenism, 9, 
318. 
Cooper, Miss, " Rural hours " of, 8, 
134; on skunk-cabbage, 139 ; on buck- 
wheat, 157 ; on autumn leaves, 165 ; 
interesting walks of, 183. 
Cooper, the actor, 3, 329. 
Cooper, Sir Astley, 9, 202. 
Cooper, J. Fenimore, 7, 5. 
Cooper, Rev. Dr. Samuel, 7, 21; 8, 
406, 408 ; 9, 205. 
Cooper's crazy wife, The, of Dorchester, 
9, 357. 
Copland's Medical Dictionary, 9, 104, 
111, 171. 
Copley, paintings of, 1, 20 n.; 2, 183 ; 
7, 3, 21; portrait of the merchant- 
uncle, and great-grandmother, 21 ; 
dressing-gown affected in his pictures, 
186. 
Copp's Hill burying ground, 2, 3, 306, 
316. 
"Copperheads," loathsomeness of, 8, 
109,110. 
Corain, Captain, and his sinking ship, 3, 
171. 
Coral-reef island, if inhabited by one 
man, pretty woman would appear 
upon, 2, 51. 
Corey, Giles, 10, 45. 
Corinna Institute, in A Mortal Anti- 
pathy, 7, 36. 
Corn, English and American definition 
of, 10, 144. See also Indian corn. 
Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi, 2, 288. 
" Corner Bookstore," 4. 150. 
Cornhill, Boston, 10, 145. 
" Corpus Juris Civilis," Elzevir edition 
of 1664, 6, 59. 
Correggio, 10, 170. 
Correspondence, The Dictator's, 4, 136 
et seq., 306, 309 et seq. 
Correspondents, curious letters received 
by authors from, 1, 69 n. 
Corrosive sublimate, 9, 275. 
Corvisart on frequency of heart diseases 
in French revolution. 8, 2. 
Cosmetic (Mrs. Allen's), 2, 79. 
Costume of young girl, 6, 370. 
Cotton, John, quoted on Gov. Win« 
throp, 9, 330 ; theocracy of, 355. INDEX. 
227 
Coughs, ingratitude of, 2, 132. 
Counsellor, character in Over the Tea- 
cups, 4, 51; relates his legal experi- 
ence with love letters, 91; " stirs up " 
the Young Doctor, 123 ; wishes to live 
until he is eighty, 190,192; asks Num- 
ber Five's advice, 240. 
Counterparts, of people in different 
cities, 1, 138; precise, not necessary 
for marriage, 2, 287. 
Counting on time, excites nervousness, 
2, 255. 
Country, eye for, possessed by military 
men, 3, 105. 
Country boys, apt to betray their early 
ways of life, 2, 44; in college, 5, 3, 
4 ; make the best horsemen outside 
of cities, 149. 
Country doctors, 5, 20, 21 ; 9, 173, 352, 
353, 374. 
Country life, some dangers of, 3, 278. 
Country people, with nothing to do, fall 
into bad habits, 5, 82. 
Coupon bonds, 4,72, 73. 
Courage dependent upon blood, 7, 235. 
Courbet, 10, 173. 
Courier maid, an androgynous person- 
age, 10, 12. 
Courses of reading, 4, 149. 
Courtesies, needful to the old, 6, 18. 
Courtier, time of day with the, to his 
sovereign, 9, 407. 
Courting, make-believe, 4, 136; of wo- 
men, often a surprise to their rela- 
tives, 5, 270. 
Cousin, on Hartley, 8, 378. 
Cow, will eat fish, 8, 217. 
Cowbells, recalled the tinkling of wine- 
glass, 1, 78. 
Cowardice, may call for lenient judg- 
ment, 5, 253; how related to centre 
of inhibition, 7, 235. 
Cowley, his " Chronicle," 6,214; quoted 
on the English walnut, 8, 264, 265. 
Cowper, 1, 184; poem on his mother's 
portrait, 281 ; lines on the " Royal 
George," 281; quoted, 2, 183; his 
mental neuralgia, 3, 101; his despair 
when dying, 4, 251; quoted, 253; 5, 
203 ; 7, 177 ; silence of, 8, 84 ; Taine 
on, 397 ; 10, 166, 186, 203. 
Crabs, Miss, teacher in Apollinean In- 
stitute, in Elsie Venner, 5, 166, 428. 
"Cracker," word used in Boston for 
biscuit, 2, 169. 
Cradock, Matthew, on the antimonial 
cup, 9, 341. 
Craigenputtock, Emerson at, 10, 138. 
Crane, Mrs., and her daughters, in Elsie 
Venner, their arrival at the Sprowles' 
party, 5, 91. 
Crane, Ada Azuba, in Elsie Venner, 5, 
91. 
Crane, Mahala, in Elsie Venner, 5, 91; 
enjoys herself at party in an old 
green de-laine dress, 95. 
Cranks, 4, 161. 
"Cranford," Mrs. Gaskell's, 10, 107. 
Crazy people, most of them found where 
the battle of intelligence is fought, 2, 
218. 
Cream, maxims regarding, 5, 301, 302. 
Creamer, Mrs. Blanche, in Elsie Venner, 
5, 291 ; a tumble-to-pieces, Greuzeish 
looking blonde, 301; her revenge on 
the widow Rowens, 310-312. 
Creation, Usher's precise date of, 2, 113, 
210; conscious life its aim and end, 3, 
105; artistic, preceded by chaos, 6, 
221. 
Creative action of mind is automatic, 1_ 
191. 
Creative power demands freedom from 
disturbance, 3, 100. 
Creatures, an Eden of humped and 
crooked, 2, 236. 
Creed, the Autocrat's, consisting of two 
first words of the Paternoster, 1, 89; 
a child's, 2, 210; all have much in 
common, 216 ; of the heart, 298 ; the 
father's, of less importance to most 
children than the mother's character, 
4, 247 ; growing out of a narrow, 247 ; 
the Athanasian, 258; of supposed 
medical society, 2, 111, 112; usually 
inherited, 8, 420; the Athanasian, an 
incubus in the Anglican Church, 420; 
ill-bred to throw his father's in a 
man's face, 422; ought to expect 
changes in, 425; many demand revi- 
sion, 433. 
Creme de noyau, 5, 55. 
Crichton, The Admirable, 10, 124. 
Crickets, evening, memory of, 1, 212. 
Crime, which is not sin, 5, 220; only 
one step below indifference to conse- 
quences, 7, 267; harvest of,'the fruits 
of sin, 8, 86 ; and automatism, 322- 
360; must be studied calmly, 325 ; the 
most frightful, may be without any 
moral character whatever, 336; in- 
herited insanity a predisposing cause 
of, 338; age a cause of, 339 ; sex and 
intoxication causes of, 339, 340; 
strange instances of, hand in hand 
with devotion, 340; usually runs in 
the blood, 343; guilt of, depends 
wholly on the question of self-deter- 
mination, 347; preventive treatment 
of, 347-349 ; in punishing, we do not 
punish sin, 360. 
Criminal, position of instinct, law and 
theology with reference to the, 8, 
322-325 ; absence of emotion in the, 
332; is devoid of ordinary moral in- 
stincts, 333, 334 ; his religious pro- 
fessions of small account, 340; treat- 
ment of the, 344-348; undisturbed 
condition of, in cities, 348, 349 ; Irish 
system of treatment of, 353, 354; 
rights of the, 359, 360. 
Criminal practices in sexual relations, 
9, 295. 
Crinoline, of Otaheite, 1, 19. 
Crippled souls, 1, 219. 
Criticism, too much should not be made 228 
INDEX. 
of flaws and overstatements, 1, 51; 
softening influence of hospitality on 
critical spirit, 115; patience under, 2, 
vi. ; based on personal feeling, 3, 85; 
needlessness of much of it, 152 ; that 
which falls upon the critics them- 
selves, 153; private criticism, 153 el 
seq. 
Critics, the chips left after authors were 
manufactured, 2, 25; their painful 
duty of reminding author of the de- 
cline of power, 26; the gratification 
afforded them by an old author, 4, 
22; their food, 23. 
Crockett, incendiary, 8, 352. 
Crooked Footpath, 2, 102. 
Croserio, Dr., 9, 90, 93. 
Cross, a burning, seen at night, 6, 91,95. 
Crotalus durissus. See Rattlesnakes. 
Crow pursued by king-bird, 1, 29. 
Crowninshield, Francis Boardman, 2,49. 
Crows' ne^ts, 2 , 222 ; 5, 266. 
Crucifix, ivory, 2, 304. 
Crusaders' monuments, 10,119,153,154. 
Cruveilhier, 9, 437. 
Crystalline lens, change in form of, 9, 
249. 
Crystallization, forms of, 9, 214. 
Cuckoos, resemblance of Americans to, 
3, 10; heard at Windsor, 10, 50 ; of 
the poets, Wordsworth's lines on, 52; 
double note of, 191. 
Cullen, 9, 262, 379. 
Culpeper, Nicholas, 9, 342, 414. 
Cumming, Dr., 9, 302. 
Cumulative effect of certain remedies, 
9, 264. 
Cunningham, Dr. George, 10, 79. 
Cupid, statuette of, taken for " statoo 
of deceased infant," 1, 109. 
Cure, real meaning of the word, 4, 189; 
9, 308. 
Cures, wonderful, statements concern- 
ing, of little value, 9, 70. 
Curie, Dr., 9,81, 92, 93. 
Curiosity, invariable in mature females, 
2, 252; resembles fear, 255; indirect 
ways of gratifying, 6, 59. 
Currents of thought, stratification of 
the, 4, 166 ; and counter-currents in 
medical science, 9, 173-208. 
Curtin, Camp, visit to, 8 , 57, 58. 
Currie, Dr. William, 9, 384. 
Curtis, Benjamin Robbins, 1809-1874, 2, 
50; 4, 28. 
Curtis, George William, 7, 10. 
Curve, of health, 4, 187 ; of life, 7, 84. 
Cushing, Caleb, 5, 150. 
Cushing, William, his index to the 
"North American Review," 9, 402, 
403. 
Cushion, feather, of the kind which 
feels like a nest of young kittens, 
6,8. 
Custard, 5, 110. 
Customs, modern, antiquity of many, 
3, 322. 
Cutis ®nea, 3, 67. 
Cutler, Manasseh, manifold accomplish, 
ments of, 8 , 409. 
Cutler's Phi Beta Kappa poem, 8, 8. 
Cutterr, Alminy, in Elsie Venner, 5, 28; 
warns Mr. Langdon the schoolmaster, 
34. 
Cuvier, 3, 240 ; 5, 318 ; 8, 358; 9, 120; 
10, 178. 
Cuyler, Dr., chief army hospital in. 
spector, 8, 62. 
Cycles, thought moves in, 1, 73. 
Cyclopaedia, man who was well read up 
in first volume of one, 1, 143. 
Cymon and Iphigenia, 4, 285. 
Cynics, 4, 148. 
Cyrus, pride of, in trees he had planted, 
1, 159. 
Daemons, 3, 127. 
Dagger, three-bladed, 6, 216. 
Daguerre, moving in parallel path with 
other inventors, 8, 84. 
Daguerreotype gives features one par- 
ticular look, 2, 191. 
Dahomey, king of, his female body- 
guard, 7, 40. 
Dairy, products of the, antipathy of a 
famous family in New England to, 7, 
88. 
Daisies, 2, 234 ; 10, 19, 124, 191. 
Dalhonde, L., 9, 347. 
Dalhousie, Lady, 10, 37. 
Daltonism, mental, 8, 312; frequent ex- 
istence of, 337. 
Damnation, infant. See Infant damna- 
tion. 
Dana, R. H., Sr., 7, 5. 
Dana, R. H., Jr., as a school-boy, 8, 241. 
"Dance of Death " at Basle, 2, 266. 
Dancing, 3, 97 ; discussed by Colonel 
Sprowle and Deacon Soper, in Elsie 
Venner, 5 , 95, 96; one of Elsie Ven- 
ner's wild dances, 147, 357. 
Dandelion, 2, 231. 
Dandies, their uses, 1, 257 ; have pluck, 
258; distinguished ones, 259. 
Danforth, Dr., 9, 309. 
Danger, slight sense of, an agreeable 
stimulus, 5, 55 ; a good counter irri- 
tant, 276. 
Dante, on the neutral angels, 8, 118; 
theology of, 368 ; his " Paradiso " 
quoted, 374. 
Danvers, Whittier's favorite tree at, 10, 
69. 
D'Arblay, Madame, 10, 89. 
Darden, Miles, the fat man, 8, 229. 
Dark, its effect upon tadpoles, 2, 242. 
Darley, F. O. C., illustrations by, 8,125- 
128. 
Darley, Helen, over-worked teacher in 
Apollinean Institute, in Elsie Venner, 
5, 49,68,123 ; her attractiveness, 125; 
Silas Peckham's undervaluation of, 
128; tortured by neuralgic conscience, 
169 et seq. ; Langdon's sympathy for, 
229, 230; her appearance at widow 
Rowen's tea-party, 305 ; Dudley Ven- INDEX. 
229 
ner finds her interesting, 308 et seq. ; 
talks with Langdon about presenti- 
ments, 361 et seq.; goes to take care 
of Elsie, 431; Dudley Venuer tells 
his love, 467; Peckham's attempt to 
squeeze down her salary, 474 - 479; 
married to Dudley Venner, 483, 484. 
Darshour, pyramid of, 9, 230. 
Darwin, Dr., 2, 82. 
Darwin, Charles, 10, 44. 
Darwinism, 3, 82,83, 305 ; 5, 94 ; 10, 2. 
Davenport, John, quoted, 9, 334. 
David, tomb of, 3, 332 ; 4, 26, 33 ; 5, 
257 ; his Psalms hold the flavor of re- 
membered frailties, 6, 121, 123. 
" David Elginbrod," Macdonald's, quot- 
ed, 8, 167. 
Davidson, Lucretia and Margaret, 1, 
184; effect upon one of them of the 
Binging of Moore's melodies, 3, 313. 
Davis, George Thomas, 2, 49 ; 4, 29. 
Davy, Sir Humphry, experience of, with 
nitrous oxide gas, 8,284. 
Dawkins, W. Boyd, 10, 183. 
Day, of rich experience to author in 
England, 10, 51. 
" Day Dream," Tennyson's, quoted, 8, 
287. 
" Day of Doom," Wigglesworth's, 8, 
304 n. 
" De Senectute." See Cicero. 
Deacon's Masterpiece, The, 1, 252. 
Dead book. See " Thoughts on the 
Universe." 
Dead, The, interest in their destiny, 2, 
107 ; may have a secondary, yet self- 
conscious life within the personality 
of living descendant, 6, 22, 94. 
Deadheads apt to have lively appetites, 
3, 281. 
Dead man's hand, swelling cured by, 2, 
246; as a cure for wens, 9, 360. 
Dead-Man's Hollow, in Elsie Venner, 5, 
101, 141, 465. 
Deaf-mute child, 2, 229. 
Deafness in right ear of sporting men, 
10, 58. 
Dean, Emma, Squire Dean's daughter, 
in Elsie Venner, 5, 51. 
Dean, Dr. John, 9, 241, 242. 
Death, compared to a black steamtug, 
1, 94; first experience of, 209, 210; 
of Latin tutor, 2, 65; idea of rest in- 
separable from, 2, 276; making ready 
for, 291-293; presence of, 304 ; per- 
haps a prolonged unconsciousness, 5, 
390-392 ; caused by fright, 7, 91 ; de- 
finition of, 8, 201; growth and mus- 
cular action after, 201, 202 ; euthana- 
sia a right of civilized humanity, 237. 
Death-bed literature, 2, 291; death-bed 
pictures, 5, 296. 
Death-warrant of Charles the First, 10, 
52, 53. 
Deborah, less agreeable than Queen Es- 
ther, 2, 136. 
Decade, every one a defence of the 
next, 4, 36. 
Decay of active powers welcomed by 
some, 4, 39. 
December, a warm day in, 8, 135. 
Decillionth dilution of a scientific proof, 
9, 392. 
Declaration of Independence, meaning 
of, 2, 295. 
Decussation of the pyramids, 9, 243. 
Deductive reasoning, suspicious in med- 
icine, 9, 276. 
Deer-stealer's fate, 1, 282-284. 
Deerfield, elm on Colman farm at, 1, 
288. 
Defeat may be a gain, 8, 118, 119. 
Deformity, idealization of, 2, 236 ; life- 
long suffering from, 263, 265, 301. 
Degeneracy, of American youth, 1,170; 
in families, 8, 204, 205; tendency to, 
205, 206; theory of, as applied to 
American life, 9, 199. 
De Gray, Lady (Gladys Herbert), 10, 
46. 
Degree at Cambridge, 10, 76; at Edin- 
burgh, 84; at Oxford, 87, 88. 
Dejazet, M'lle, the actress, 3, 329. 
Delacoste's, Madam, fashionable school 
for young ladies, in The Guardian An- 
gel, 6, 265; account of, 268 et seq. 
De Lacy, Miss Euphrosyne, in The Guar- 
dian Angel, 6, 270. 
Delilah, the hand-maiden, character in 
Over the Teacups, 4, 61; forgets her 
place, 143; a mystery about her, 199; 
how she got her name, 200; her song, 
202; her attractiveness, 224; the 
Young Doctor's admiration for her, 
225, 241; at the " exhibition," 268 ; 
her engagement to the Young Doctor 
becomes known, 270. 
Delphi, and a Pythoness in every human 
breast, 8, 286. 
Delusions, medical, 9, 1 et seq. 
Dementia senilis, 5, 473. 
Demetz, M., on the " Maison paternelle," 
8, 354. 
Demonstrator, a good, 9, 425, 426. 
De Morgan, Augustus, 4, 161 et seq.; 
203; "Budget of Paradoxes" of, 9, 
415. 
Denner, 9, 220. 
Dentists, 2, 112; new horrors associ- 
ated with chair of, 4, 17. 
Depolarization, of religious thought, 2, 
6 ; of sacred books, 117. 
De Quincey, his " Opium-Eater " quoted, 
2, 238 ; his admiration of Coleridge, 
10, 139. 
Derby day, 10, 6, 31; emptiness of Lon- 
don on, 1, 35; Commencement day 
compared to start at, 95; of year 1834, 
32, 33 ; Gladstone's impression of, 31; 
Dore's exclamation at, 31 ; the horses, 
33; the race, 35, 36 ; recollections, 
40 ; weather, 39, 187. 
Dermestes lardarius, 3, 93. 
De Sauty, 2, 26. 
Descartes, his location of the soul, 2, 
247; " Principes " quoted, 8, 294; his 230 
INDEX. 
idea of lower animals and man, 329; 
on motion, 9, 217; library of, 400. 
Deserter, recognized by sudden order 
given him by officer, 1, 107. 
Desor, Mr., pamphlet of on dryness of 
atmosphere, 8, 207. 
Despair, discipline of, 4, 151. 
Despine, Prosper, notice of "Psycho- 
logie naturelie " of, 8, 331-360 ; quot- 
ed on the sleep of criminals, 334 ; his 
examination of murderer, 341, 342 ; ex- 
amples of moral color-blindness to be 
found in his "Psychologic naturelie," 
380. 
Deterioration, physical. See Degen- 
eracy. 
Determination. See Will. 
Deus ex machina, 8, 302. 
Development, sudden, in some charac- 
ters, 3, 306. 
Devil, lent to the lawyers by theology, 
8, 324; Jonathan Edwards's opinion 
371. 
" Devil's footsteps" in pastures, 2, 187. 
Devil's Sonata, Tartini's, 2,308 ; 8, 283. 
Devizes, woman struck dead at, with a 
lie in her mouth, 1, 281; 10, 186. 
Devonshire House, 10, 42. 
Devotion, hand in hand with crime, 8, 
340. 
Devotions, good management in closing 
the day with, 8, 231. 
Devout disposition and weak constitu- 
tion, correlation between, 3, 303. 
Dewberry, 2, 187. 
De wees, Dr., opposed to the doctrine of 
the contagiousness of puerperal fever, 
9, 106, 123, 131, 146. 
Dexter, Lord Timothy, 4, 231 et seq. ; 
5, 14. 
Diagnosis, the Professor's, of the Little 
Gentleman, 2, 258. 
Diamond burned by Number Five, 4, 
144, 146. 
Diaphragm, moral effects of disease 
above and below, 2, 293 ; laughter, 
epilepsy of the, 8, 19. 
Diary, pathetic minuteness of a, 2,232 ; 
of the author's daughter, while in 
England, 10, 9; extracts from, 47, 
51, 57, 78, 89. 
Dibdin, conversation of Coleridge as 
reported by, 10, 139. 
Dickens, his "Pickwick Papers," 6,275; 
author's estimate of. 8, 313( 314 ; re- 
marked brightness of Boston, 10, 23. 
Dictator, The, character in Over the 
Teacups, 4, 24; his discourse on the 
" Peau de Chagrin," 72 et seq. ; inter- 
prets Number Seven's abridged history 
of the world, 117 ; his feeling in regard 
to English blood, 176 ; gives advice as 
to the attainment of long life, 181; 
he turns preacher, 244. 
Dictionaries, English, "Webster's Una- 
bridged," 2, 40 ; rivalry of various, 44 ; 
French and English, by John Bellows, 
10, 40. 
" Didadascalos, Our dear," Lowell so 
referred to, 1, 23. 
Dido, 2, 61. 
" Dies Irae," key-note cf, 8,307 ; quoted, 
311. 
Diet, its influence on character, 4, 185; 
all-importance of, 9, 297. 
Digby, Sir Everard, story of his head 
speaking after decapitation, 8, 265. 
Digby, Sir Kenelm, quoted, 5, 223 ; on 
consumption in London, 8 , 206; Ida 
cure for fever and ague, 9, 354, 381; his 
Sympathetic powder, 8,279 ; 10, 58. 
Digby, Sir Kenelm, a descendant, 10, 57. 
Digestibility, relative, of various sub- 
stances, 8, 218-220. 
Digestive system, legislates largely for 
our habits, 8, 315; 9, 237. 
Dighton Rock, inscription on, 1, 246. 
Digitalis, 9, 264. 
Dilutions, doctrine of, in homoeopathy, 
9, 42, 52 et seq. 
Dimensions, three, ideas handled as if 
they had, 1, 85. 
Dinely, Fathergone, 9, 317. 
Dinely, William, lost in a snow-storm, 
9, 317. 
Dinners, wine a specific against dull, 2, 
32; at Lady Harcourt's, 10, 24 ; the 
full-blown flower of social life, 27 ; at 
American minister's, 37, 50; Sir Wil- 
liam Harcourt's, 43; Archdeacon Far- 
rar's, 57 ; Literary Club, 62 ; at Mr. 
Lowell's, 66 , 67 ; Sir Henry Thomp- 
son's, 68 ; political matters not talked 
of at, 75, 200; at Vice-Chancellor 
Jowett's, 78, 89 ; with Dean of Salis- 
bury, 121; in Paris, 174 ; dinner par- 
ties like those at home, 199 ; conver- 
sation at, 200. 
Diorama, seen by Autocrat, of Mont 
Blanc, with two figures in foreground, 
1, 267. 
Diphtheria, 9, 348. 
Diploma, effect of time on size of, 9, 
373. 
Disappointments, reliefs from, 6, 249. 
Discipline of despair, 4, 151. 
Discobolus, 2, 283. 
Discussion, fear of, 2,109 ; gain in free- 
dom of, 3,185; discussions, religious, 
worth and dangers of, 187 et seq.; of 
great questions, necessary in a repub- 
lic, 8, 80; right of free, 89. 
Disease, long illness, the real vampirism, 
1, 202; dismantling process of, 2,130; 
8, 249; a manifestation of the vital 
processes, 3, 305; advantages of a 
mortal, 4, 183; as to curing, 189; 
moral views of, changing, 5 , 323; a 
result of depressing moral influences, 
8, 2, 3; egotism in, 28; querulous- 
ness in, 82 ; influence of light in, 209; 
of color in, 211 ; of the moon in, 212 ; 
prevailing over a wide region, attribu- 
ted to epidemic influence, 9, 113; 
prevailing in a single locality to local 
cause,113; natural course of, ignorance INDEX. 
231 
concerning, 9, 76; remedies for, more 
eagerly sought than causes of, 195 ; a 
penalty, 197, 198; sometimes a con- 
genital incapacity for life, 200 ; French 
superior to English and Americans in 
prescribing for, 204; poison-cure, doc- 
trine of, 9, 256, 257, 262, 266; change 
in the character of diseases, 260; 
rhythms of, 273 ; interpretation and 
treatment of, throw much light on su- 
perstitions, 314; it is Flagellum Dei 
pro peccatis mundi, 359 ; sensitiveness 
and fastidiousness of, 386 ; a large pro- 
portion get well of themselves, 434. 
Dislocation of the lower jaw common 
among the inhabitants of Saturn, 4, 
65. 
Disorganizing conceptions, 8, 383, 384. 
Disraeli, 4, 194; 8, 275. 
Dissection, dangers encountered in, in 
post-mortem examination of patients 
who have died of puerperal fever, 
9, 160, 161, 162; popular prejudice 
against, 416, 417. 
Distinctions, social, 2, 134 ; 3, 57. 
Distribution, of manhood, 8, 10, 11 ; of 
talents and instincts, 8, 313. 
Disturbance, nervous, 7,83,215; peri- 
ods of, minds bewildered in, 8, 78. 
Diversities, as social beings, depend 
largely on physical conditions, 8, 315. 
Divine image, each age shapes the one 
it worships, 4, 40. 
Divine right of kings, Napoleon gave 
death blow to, 10, 174. 
Divinity student, in The Autocrat and 
The Professor, usually addressed by 
the Autocrat on more abstruse topics, 
1, 1; admires power of seeing analo- 
gies, 83 ; asks Autocrat for his creed, 
88; reads over the Schoolmistress's 
shoulder, 135 ; his interest in School- 
mistress's sister, 218; asks about love 
at first sight, 220; his wedding-present 
to the Autocrat, 311; prays with the 
Little Gentleman while dying, 2, 302; 
finally engaged to marry the sister of 
the Schoolmistress, 309. 
Dixwell, John, one of the regicide 
judges, 10, 53; his descendants in 
America, 53. 
Doctor, the Young, character in Over 
the Teacups. See Young Doctor. 
Doctor B. Franklin, in The Poet, his 
education, 3, 38; he is consulted by 
the Poet, 64; his office, 65; the ex- 
amination, 66 ; treats the Capitalist, 
253. 
"Dr. Oliver," an inherited prescrip- 
tion, 9, 336. 
Doctor's Paradise, streets with only one 
side to them, 5, 19. 
Doctor's wife, duty of, 7, 93. 
Doctors, old doctor's list of books sug- 
gested for relief of persons with 
broken kneepans, 1, 157 ; childish 
fear of a, 2, 69; should always in- 
spire hope, 143; old, preferred to 
young, 3, 118; young doctors start 
with much professional but little prac- 
tical knowledge, 123; doctors in this 
country have less culture than law- 
yers and ministers, 126; doctors in 
earlier days, 305 ; family, 4, 124 ; old 
Egyptian, 128 ; successful, 5,19 ; coun- 
try doctor, 20, 21; 9, 173, 352, 353, 
374 ; appears at a distance as a wheel- 
animal, 5, 139; his sulky, 139, 140; 
believe and trust in God more than 
other people, 5,315 ; not atheists, 319, 
320; lenient with human nature, 322, 
323 ; the best-natured people, 325; 
God opens Book of Life to, 325; where 
an able young one ought to settle, 482, 
483 ; nature studied by, from above 
downwards, 7, 81; choice of, 8, 232, 
233; so-called " schools " of, 234-238; 
have given the clergy more trouble 
than other laymen, 414; called athe- 
ists, 414; piety and charity of, 415; 
intimate relations which should exist 
between ministers and, 415,416; many 
know more about theology than medi- 
cine, 417; motives imputed to, for op- 
posing medical delusions, 9, 19, 35; 
their ability not to be tested by the 
degree of mortality among their pat- 
ients, 73; their readiness to accept 
new doctrines, 98; country, 173, 352, 
353, 373; their greatest duties, 184; 
errors to which they are subject, 185 ; 
scholastic and bedside teaching of, 
273-311; business of, 274; who do 
not practise, 297; a disadvantage to 
young, to have any accomplishment 
outside of profession, 298, 384; phy- 
sicians, 312-370; relations of those of 
Massachusetts with those of the Old 
World, 312; union of callings among 
early Massachusetts, 317 ; great names 
among Massachusetts, 317; were often 
clergymen, 319, 320, 329, 330; part 
taken by, in sanitary movements, 352 ; 
share of, in the Salem witchcraft 
delusion, 357, 358; sphere of, 364; 
faith of, 365, 366; young, know the 
rules, old, the exceptions, 377; old, 
knows patient's family, 377; char- 
acter requisite for successful, 383; 
genius not requisite in, 384 ; personal 
habits of, 386; professional odor of 
old-fashioned, 387 ; punctuality a req- 
uisite in, 387; should have weather- 
gauge of patient, 387 ; face of, should 
be impenetrable, 388 ; phrases of 
shrewd, for their patients, 389; firm- 
ness indispensable to, 389 ; principles 
on which to choose, 390,391; welcome 
any remedy proved to be useful, 391; 
relations of, with each other, 392,393 ; 
a part of their business they are apt 
to forget, 433, 434. 
Doctors of divinity, many people quali- 
fied to be, 1, 29. 
Doctrinal finalities, no air-tight reser- 
voir, 2, ix. 232 
INDEX. 
Doddridge's " Life of Colonel Gardiner," 
6, 95. 
Dog-days, 8, 155. 
Dogmas, little heard of in war times, 8, 
11. 
Dogmatists, the three, Johnson, Cole- 
ridge, Carlyle, 3, 262 et seq.; 9, 302 ; 
10,138. 
Dollar, as an armorial bearing, 6, 268. 
Domesday book, 10, 65, 66. 
"Don Quixote," 6, 275 ; recommended 
by Sydenham to medical students, 7, 
162, 167, 168 ; 9, 293, 354. 
Donatello, shrine ascribed to, 10, 156. 
Donkey preferred to the horse in a forest 
landscape, by Gilpin, 10, 61. 
Dorcas, death of, 2, 233. 
Dorchester, pudding-stone at, 2, 256; 
old burial ground at, 2, 263 ; 8, 166. 
Dore, Gustave, characterizes the Derby 
as brutal, 10, 31, 36. 
Double, M., his experiments upon cin- 
chona, 9, 61. 
Double consciousness. See Dual con- 
Double^star^ 3, 73, 139, 317, 346. 
Doubt, spiritual, 3, 148; age of, 194. 
Doughnut, genteel form of, 6, 231. 
Douglass, Dr. William, simple remedies 
of, 9, 320; quoted, 346; on inocula- 
tion, 347 ; on remedies, 348. 
Douw, Gerard, 10, 170. 
Dowdyism, an expression of imperfect 
vitality, 2, 136. 
Dowler, Dr., on muscular action after 
death, 8, 201, 202. 
Dragon, fire compared to, 2, 158. 
Drainage, effect of, upon bills of mor- 
tality, 9. 259. 
Drake, J. Rodman, 7, 5. 
Dramatic element in Frenchmen, 8, 350, 
354. 
Dramatis persona?, usefulness of, 4, 53. 
Draper, Professor, his theory as to the 
photographic nature of vision, 9, 249. 
Drawing, early childish efforts of Iris, in 
The Professor, 2, 69 ; Number Seven's 
plan for teaching, 4, 82. 
Drawing-book of Iris, 2, 173, 184; dis- 
closures of its contents, 228. 
Drayton's " Poly-Olbion," 4, 133. 
Dream, Number Five's, 4, 56. 
Dream-chemistry, 4, 67. 
Dreams, like broken mosaics, 4, 68; 
dreams idealize and render fascinat- 
ing, 286 ; personality often doubled 
in, 8 , 282, 283. 
Dress-suit, full, only a gentleman en- 
durable in, 5, 103. 
Dresser, Dr., his inventions, 10, 144. 
Drinking glasses, which spill contents if 
set down, 1, 15. 
Drinking habit is oftenest a punishment, 
1, 190. 
Drinking-trough, shrine of saint used as, 
10, 156, 157. 
Drinks, 8, 220-225. 
Droll, authors dislike to be called, 1, 49. 
Dromedary, 2, 236. 
Drowned, firing artillery to raise the, 
8, 9. 
Drowning, panorama of past lives seen 
in, 8, 299. 
Drudgery of writing, 3, 299. 
Drugs, bad things, 2, 12; now and then 
save life, 8,233; effect of, upon healthy 
persons as studied by Hahnemann, 9, 
58, 66 ; we have unlearned the habit 
of constant use of, 9, 435. 
Drunkenness, non-alcoholic, 6,158. See 
also Intemperance; Intoxication. 
Drury Lane Theatre, 10, 41, 73, 74. 
Dry belly-ache, 9 , 282. 
Dry crying, 2, 76. 
Dryden, quoted, 10, 4. 
Dual consciousness, 4, 154, 165; 3, 81, 
206, 207, 227, 243 ; 6, 356; 8, 280, 
282, 283. See also Plural personality. 
Dublin hospital, 9 , 294, 364. 
Dudley, Honorable Thomas, Esquire, 
builder of Dudley Mansion, in Elsie 
Tenner, 5, 142. 
Dudley House, in London, 10, 59. 
Dudley, Lady, 10, 59. 
Dudley Mansion, residence of the Ven- 
ners, in Elsie Venner, 5, 141-145; its 
treasures, 197, 198; in moonlight, 
334. 
Duel of Benjamin Woodbridge, 1, 239. 
Duelling, French quotation concerning, 
4, 151. 
Duff, Mrs., the actress, 2, 329. 
Duges, opinion of, as to the contagious- 
ness of puerperal fever, 9, 106, 165. 
Dull faces fatal to lecturer, 1, 141. 
Dull people. 2,290 ; solacing effect of, 1, 
6, 61 ; 8, 268; sometimes make safest 
doctors, 9, 300. 
Dulness of life, on the planet Saturn, 
4, 65; in any ideal state of society, 
67. 
Du Maurier, 10, 67. 
Dumollard, murderer. 8, 44, 341 ; Bon- 
ville de Marsangy on the case of, 356. 
Dunhams, the, in Elsie Venner, 6, 102. 
Duplicates met in London, 10,196. 
Dupuytren, 8, 209 ; 9, 427. 
Dusting books, 6, 370; a woman's way 
of, 1, 275. 
Dutch method of weighing furs with the 
Indians, 8, 62. 
Duty, the hardest, bravely performed, 
becomes a pleasure, 5 , 438; of accept- 
ing good fortune when it defrauds no 
one, 3, 293. 
Duval, Claude, 1, 294. 
Dwight, Josiah, humorous anecdotes of, 
8, 410. 
Dwight, Timothy, 7, 5 ; his " Greenfield 
Hill," quoted,'8, 137. 
Dwight, Wilder, 8, 17, 24, 25. 
Dyer, Mary, 9, 356. 
Dying, compared to moving, 2 , 276; 
much sagacity shown in patient's esti- 
mate of his condition, 277 ; testimony 
of the dying, to be received with cau- INDEX. 
233 
tion, 2 , 292 ; torturing the dying, for 
evidence in favor of certain belief, 
293; business of, better understood by 
Roman Catholics than by Protestants, 
4, 250; 5, 450. See also Death. 
Dynamization, Hahnemann's theory of, 
9, 419. 
Dynasty, the talking, 3, 263, 265 ; 9, 
302; 10, 138. 
Dyspepsia, mental, 4, 148; and hypo- 
chondriasis, their influence, as shown 
by Carlyle and Cowper, 7, 177, 178; 
helped by cider, 8, 224. 
" E pur si muove," 8, 377. 
Ear-rings, 2, 99. 
Early piety, instance of, 2, 67. 
Ears, stopping and unstopping, 5, 97. 
Earth, sweet smell of fresh, 2, 265. 
Earthquake, to launch the Great East- 
ern, 1, 72; superstitions about, 9, 
355. 
East Indian lady, 10,56; her children's 
salaam to the Princess Louise, 57. 
East wind, 8, 151, 206; 10, 39. 
Eating, readiness for, at any hour, a test 
of youth, 2, 57. 
Eaton Hall, seat of the Duke of West- 
minster, 10, 20; its stables, 21. 
Eau mbdicinale, 8, 237. 
Eberty, G. F. F., his " Stars and the 
Earth " referred to, 1, 265. 
Eblis, Hall of, 1, 247. 
" Ecce Homo," publication of, 8, 407, 
408. 
Eccentrically formed animals, 2, 236. 
"Eccentrics," mostly of the male sex, 
4, 281. 
" Ecclesiastical History of England," 
Dr. Harpsfield's, 9, 4. 
Ecclef echan, 10, 138. 
Eclecticism, spirit of, 9, 2; literature 
of, 415. 
Eclipse, the racer, portrait of, 10, 40. 
Economist, the brig, brief parley with, 
10, 200. 
Economy, epidemic, 8, 1; everything 
sacrificed to, 208. 
Ectopia cordis, 2 , 259. 
Edelweiss, 5, 185. 
Eden, an, of humped and crooked crea- 
tures, 2, 236. 
Edgeworth, Miss, children educated on 
her "Frank," etc., 8, 172; her 
" L'Amie Inconnue," 10, 197. 
Edinburgh, fascination of, 10, 6,7, 83; 
degree of LL. D. at, 84 ; speech at, 84; 
former rambles in, 85; Salisbury crags, 
85. 
" Edinburgh Review," its attempt to put 
down Byron, 1, 296. 
Editors, appeals to their benevolence, 
1, 293; most of them get callous, 
294; as pictured by Carlyle, 4, 10. 
Education, most of our people have had 
a professional, 1, 28; begins through 
the senses, 117; towards the beauti- 
ful is mainly through women, 5, 172 ; 
often only a wearing conflict of alien 
lives, 6, 29; theological, should in- 
clude pathology and toxicology, 3, 
304 ; 8, 417 ; through the pretentious 
intellect to the humble accuracy of 
instinct, 9, 376. 
Edwards, Jerusha, 8, 365. 
Edwards, Jonathan, the elder, laymen's 
commentary on the preaching of, 2, 
114; his creed might have softened 
with age, 4, 40; and children, 249 ; on 
hatred of God for mankind, 252; his 
call was to study-work, 6,18; essay on, 
8, 361-401; one of the two Americans 
of his time with a European reputation 
as a scholar, 362; parallel between, and 
Pascal, 363-366; personal appearance 
of, 363; not witty, but could be satiri- 
cal, 364; greatly influenced by women, 
365; born with Scriptural texts la- 
tent in his thinking marrow, 367; 
his mother, 367; faith of, 367, 368; 
his "Work of redemption," "God's 
chief end in creation," " Nature of 
true virtue," 373 ; on " Freedom of 
the Will," 374-382; condensed state- 
ment of, quoted, 375; quoted on 
" Original Sin," 382 ; indebtedness of, 
to T. Boston, 385-387, 395; " Treatise 
on the religious affections," 387, 388 ; 
exegetical treatises, 388, 389 ; life of, 
short and melancholy, 389 ; belonged 
in Scotland, not to New England, 
394 ; an unpublished manuscript of, 
said to be in existence, 396, 426-430 ; 
an habitual sufferer, 396; influence 
of, on religious opinion, 424-426. 
Effluence, correlative of influence, 7, 
244. 
Egg-pop, on holidays in Boston, 2, 3. 
Eggs, ovarian, of future civilization, 1, 
195; the Creator's private studio, 3, 
106 ; chemistry of, 8, 187-189. 
Egotism, in disease, 8, 28 ; essence of, 
147. 
Egotist, the great original American, 4, 
232. 
Egypt, obelisks of, 3, 149; antiquities 
of, 4, 100 ; doctors of, 128 ; 9,412; as 
a health resort, 296. 
Ehrenbreitstein of the Chesapeake, 8, 
95. 
Ehud, 2, 119. 
Eidolon, no more harm in, than in Ima- 
go, 8, 404. 
Eiffel tower, 4, 104. 
Eighth Massachusetts regiment, the, 8 
10. 
Elbridge, coachman to the Venners in 
Elsie Venner, 5, 383-386. 
Elder, boiling oil of, for gunshot wounds, 
9, 270. 
Eleazar, Indian youth, 9, 329. 
Election bun, 2, 42 ; 8, 146. 
Election day, 8,146. 
Election sermon, 6, 387. 
Elective character of social position, 2, 
135. 234 
INDEX. 
Elective affinities. See Affinities, elec- 
tive. 
Electric light, burning but unconsumed, 
1, iv. 
Electricity, brain-cell power correspond- 
ing to, 4, 15; 9, 246; force stripped 
stark naked, 215. 
Elements, the, may pervert the moral 
nature, 5 , 435; chemical, of eggs, 8, 
189; of the human body, 189. 
Elgin Marbles, 10,152. 
Elijah, by brook Cherith, 6, 74. 
Eliot, Ephraim, 9, 348. 
Eliot, Jared, his Plato, 8, 409. 
Eliot, John, quoted, 9 , 277, 278, 328; 
under Mr. Greenland's mercurial min- 
istrations, 339, 340. 
Elginbrodde, Martin, epitaph of, 8,167. 
Elizabethan authors, common force in, 
8,84. 
Ellicott, C. J., Bishop of Gloucester and 
Bristol, 10, 41, 54. 
Ellsler, Fanny, 3, 95. 
Ellsworth, Colonel, 8,13. 
Elm, American, 1, 231; the Johnston 
elm, 233; at Springfield, 234; at 
Hatfield, Sheffield, West Springfield, 
235 ; at Pittsfield, Newburyport, Co- 
hasset, 236; compared with English 
elm, 237 ; Paddock elms, 239 ; at An- 
dover, Norwich, 287 ; at Deerfield, 
288 ; 3,19; great elm on Boston Com- 
mon, 313 ; 10, 81; American and Eng- 
lish, useful lesson of, 4, 38; has a 
soul, 5, 56; at Longfellow's house, 
10, 69 ; at Lowell's, 69; of New Eng- 
land, 81 ; one in grounds of Magda- 
len College, 81, 82; at Springfield, 81; 
comparison of those of Old and New 
England, 189,190; American not long- 
lived, 190 ; hint of a typical difference 
in the American and Englishman, 190. 
El pit, a boy christened Lord Pitt, called, 
2, 95. 
Elsie Tenner, illustrates author's theory 
of the will, 2, 35 n. See also Venner, 
Elsie (the character). 
Elstow, 10, 186. 
Elzevirs, 1, 87 ; 6,59; 9 , 409; 10, 148. 
Embryo, development of, 9, 250. 
Emeritus, professor, a title to be accept- 
ed but not longed for, 6, 265. 
Emerson, G. B., his " Report upon the 
trees and shrubs of Massachusetts," 
1,234. 
Emerson, R. W., 1, 2 n. ; 7, 5, 7; re- 
membered the time made by Flora 
Temple, 36 n.; sceptical of the exist- 
ence of a certain man, 245 n. ; recog- 
nized approach of age, 4, 38; on pie, 
186; on Christian intolerance, 195; 
held to literary traditions, 233 ; tri- 
bute of author to, 7, 17,18; his " Tit- 
mouse," quoted, 8, 179; son of a 
clergyman, 411; urges author to go to 
Europe, 10, 10 ; calls William and the 
Normans " twenty thousand thieves," 
66 ; his obligation to George Herbert, 
126; at Craigenputtock, 138; quoted, 
169. 
Emmons, N., 9, 292. 
Emotions, excited by sight-seeing, not 
those usually to be expected, 1, 279, 
280; have periods of incubation, 5, 
420 ; we live on our, 8, 1 ; heart-dis- 
ease caused by, 2, 3 ; clairvoyance of 
faculties in intense, 18; we have only a 
partial control of, 330. See also Dis- 
turbance ; Excitement; Feelings. 
Empiricism, 9, 275, 432. 
Encouragement to young writers, 3,159. 
Encyclopaedic information, instance of, 
1, 143. 
Encysted griefs, 6, 249. 
Endicott, Gov., Dr. Fuller's visit to, 9, 
325; sends bezoar to Gov. Winthrop, 
340. 
Enforced economies, 3, 296. 
Engagements, matrimonial, 2, 286. 
England, is one great menagerie, 1, 303; 
monarchs of, their touch supposed to 
cure scrofula, 9 , 3, 354, 413; fifty 
years ago (1834), 10, 1 ; first im- 
pressions of, 22 ; climate in May and 
June, 39, 56, 187 ; looting of, by Wil- 
liam's " twenty thousand thieves," 66; 
sympathy of, with slave-holding in the 
American Civil war, 184; twenty dif- 
ferent Englands, 187 ; soil of, 188; 
fossils, 188; relics of different peo- 
ples, 188 ; a Campo Santo, 189 ; de- 
sirable as a home for Americans, 203- 
205. 
England of Pennsylvania, 8, 51. 
English, the, their blood apt to tell well 
on the stock upon which it is engraft- 
ed. 4, 176; called by Napoleon a na- 
tion of shopkeepers, 8, 10; inferior 
to French in prescribing for disease, 
9, 204; country houses of, 10, 177 ; 
fists, 134 ; compared with New Eng- 
landers, 192 ; their feeling for the hat, 
193 ; B^ranger's lines on, quoted, 193. 
English girl, character in Over the Tea- 
caps. See Annexes, the two. 
English ladies, dear old, 10, 26-28; 106. 
" English Lands, Letters, and Kings," 
Donald G. Mitchell's, 4,133. 
English language, must be correctly used 
by public men, 1, 111. 
English sparrow, 3, 314. 
English universities, 9 , 277. 
English vitality, descending scale of, 9, 
199. 
English walnut, fair model of the hu- 
man brain, 8, 264, 265. 
English workmen compared with Con- 
tinental, 9, 288, 289. 
Englishman, lives and dies under pro- 
test, 2, 81. 
Enlistment, age of, among Romans, 1, 
151. 
Entertainments on first visit to England, 
10, 6. 
Enthusiasm, the source of all great 
thoughts and deeds, 6, 221. INDEX. 
235 
Environment, in restrictions of human 
will, 1, 86; of intellect, 266. 
Epicures, old people have a right to be, 
4, 184. 
Epidemic economy, 8,1. 
Epidemic of thinking, 3, 269. 
Epigaea repens, first spring flower, 8, 
139. 
Epigram, nothing harder than to forgive 
the sting of an, 4, 306. 
Epilepsy, nitrate of silver for, 2, 105; 
8,190; 9, 441; of the diaphragm, 8, 
19; vegetable diet good for, 217; ar- 
tificial production of, in animals, 9, 
243; hoof of a horse prescribed for, 
262. 
Epilogue to the Breakfast-table series, 
3, 349. 
Epitaphs, who writes ? 8, 166; quoted, 
166,167 ; at Andover, 257; one by Ben 
Jonson, 10,119 ; one at South Downs, 
134. 
Epithets, follow isothermal lines, 1,114. 
Epsom, Derby day at, 10, 6, 31-37; 
special train for, 34 ; grand stand, 35 ; 
luncheon, 37 ; windy gusts at, 39, 206. 
Equality, 1, 20 ; and the quality, 2, 133; 
only an ideal Christian equality can 
prevent social divisions, 134 ; political 
and social, of the inhabitants of Sat- 
urn, 4, 62, 63. 
Equation, eye for, 3, 105. 
Equilibrium, human beings cannot long 
rest in state of, 2, 275. 
Equinoctial storm in Elsie Venner, 5, 
459 et seq. 
Erasmus, his "Colloquies," 1, 87; his 
" Naufragium," 88; portrait of, by 
Holbein, 10, 127, 128,196. 
Erasistratus, 9, 177. 
Error, removed from the mind grad- 
ually, 9, 108. 
Errors, to which physicians are liable, 
9, 185, 186,198. 
Erysipelas, connection of, with puerperal 
fever, 9, 147, 149, 154, 155, 163, 164, 
169, 170. 
Esquimaux, morning call on, 1, 302. 
Esquirol, 9, 78,79. 
Essex County, 2 , 244. 
Essex Street, Boston, 1, 272. 
Esther before Ahasuerus, 1, 308 ; 2, 
136; 6,123. 
Eternal punishment, 4, 244 et seq.; 8, 
383 et seq. See also Infant damnation. 
Eternity, remembering one's self in, 1, 
201. 
Ether, a few whiffs of, a ticket to the 
world of death and return, 8, 265; 
Dr. Holmes's experience with a dose 
of, 283, 284; of the physicists, 373; 
discovery of, 9, 349, 350. See also 
Anaesthetics. 
Euphrasia, prescribed for disease of the 
eye, 9, 360. 
Europe, aristocracy of, hostile to the 
North in Civil war, 8, 98; first visit 
to, 10, 3-6; risk of the trip in ad- 
vanced years, 206; benefits of visit to, 
207. 
Eustachius, 9, 412. 
Evans, John, on the antimonial cup, 9. 
341. 
Eve, moral responsibility of, 5, xii.; as 
embodying creative idea of woman, 6. 
193. 
Eveleth, the Rev. Ambrose, in The Guar- 
dian Angel, 6, 5, 194. 
Eveleth, Cyprian, in The Guardian An- 
gel, 6, 13; starts in search of Myrtle, 
20, 64; his friendliness for Myrtle, 197 
et seq. ; interrogated by Gifted Hop- 
kins as to his poetic qualities, 206 et 
seq. ; marries Bathsheba Stoker, 428. 
Eveleth, Olive, in The Guardian Angel, 
6, 36 ; Myrtle's letter to her at her 
flight, 62 ; her religious character, 193, 
194 ; married to Dr. Hurlbut, 419. 
" Evenings at Home," 4, 206, 207. 
Everett, Edward, quotation from the 
" TEneid," 4, 9; quoted on melons, 8, 
161; son of a clergyman, 411. 
Everlasting, the herb, emotions evoked 
by its smell, 1, 76 ; 2, 187. 
Evidence, not to be confounded with 
belief, 9,108. 
Evil, dreadful business of being a prophet 
of, 3, 252; moral, not an entity but a 
condition, 8, 307; responsibility of, 
328 
Evil eye, 5 , 212, 219, 223, 224 ; 7, 65, 67. 
Evil words, man's vocabulary terribly 
retentive of, 4, 109. 
Evolution, process of, reversed, 4,125; 
doctrine of, 255; moral, in children, 
8, 307, 308 n. ; iconoclastic doctrines 
of, 328. 
"Ex pede Herculem,"the remark of a 
dull person, 1, 110. 
Examinations, worth of, 9, 372. 
Excitement, effect of, on nervous sys- 
tem, 8, 12. See also Disturbance; 
Emotions. 
Exclusiveness, Puritan, 4, 194; has its 
conveniences, 10,141. 
Execution of Holloway and Haggerty, 
2, 188; 10, 44. 
Exercise, pleasure of, 1, 167; not easy 
to lay down rules for, 8 , 228-230. 
Exhalations of the human body, 8, 200. 
" Exhibition " at a young ladies' school, 
4, 263 et seq. 
Exhibiting one's self, authors have the 
right of, 1, 303. 
Existence, previous state of, 1, 73, 74 ; 
every stage of, has its trials and con- 
solations, 4, 37 ; infinite, the one mir- 
acle, 9, 219. 
Experience, a fowl which cackles oftener 
than it lays eggs, 1, 271; not always 
the basis of medical prescriptions, 9, 
175; meaning of, 375. 
Experts, our pride in the superiority of, 
3, 243 ; meaning of the word, 9, 375. 
Explanations, bad between lovers, 6, 
230. 236 
INDEX. 
Explosion, ratio of violence of, 8,102. 
Exposure, relative ability of the sexes 
to endure, 8, 214, 215; Prof. Harris 
quoted on woman's endurance of, 227 ; 
required to make images permanent, 
10, 104,196. 
Expressions which fix a man's position, 
1, 106; mere expressions indicative of 
lack of breeding, 109. 
Extermination, divine impulse of, 5, 
168. 
External conditions valued too highly, 
3, 296. 
Extravagance of bookworms, 4, 115. 
Eyam, Devonshire, 10, 186. 
Eye, for an equation, 3,105; for country 
possessed by military men, 105; blind 
spot of the, 4, 166 ; adjustment of, to 
different distances, 9, 249 ; evil. See 
also Evil eye. 
Eyebrows, line between the, 3,52. 
Eyelids of ophidians immovable, 6, 209. 
Eyes of a cripple, 2, 88; varieties of, 5, 
179 ; of rattlesnake, 209. 
" Eyes and No Eyes," 4, 206,207. 
Eyesight, failing, unusual remedy for, 1, 
173. 
Eye-water, heirloom in the Winthrop 
family, 9, 335. 
Faber, Peter John, 3, 27. 
Faces, negative, in audience, 1, 141 ; 
that of doctor and diplomatist should 
be impenetrable, 388 ; some women's 
a revelation of a great secret, 2, 178; 
influence of a girl's face, 181; we have 
different ones for different persons, 
191; analysis of, in ancestral ele- 
ments, 193; face or figure, which the 
more attractive, 204; sketched on 
borders of drawing-book, 238. 
Facsimile of each of us to be found 
somewhere, 3, 36. 
Facts, not allowed at the table by the 
Autocrat, 1, 5; arc bullies, 55 ; men 
of, 142; remote, collision of, 2, 56; 
as mental food, 3, 174 ; reluctance to 
accept those which throw doubt upon 
cherished beliefs, 185; the patrimony 
of cheats, 9, 29; surest way of ac- 
quiring, 287, 372. 
Faculties, clairvoyance of, 8, 18, 270. 
Fagan, Kitty, house-servant at the Pop- 
lars in The Guardian Angel, 6,8; res- 
cues Myrtle from garret, 32; welcomes 
Myrtle back to the Poplars, 119; con- 
fides to Master Gridley about Brad- 
shaw's designs, 328 et seq.; listens to 
conversation between Bradshaw and 
Cynthia Badlam, 331. 
Fainting, 7, 234; at sight of blood, 89, 
236; at sight of any object of a red 
color, 89, 92. 
Fair, English, properly conducted fight 
at, 2, 52. 
"Fair Maid of Perth," chieftain in, 5, 
253. 
Fairweather, Reverend Chauncy, the 
minister of the liberal church in Elsie 
Venner, 5, 63-65; begins to grow dis- 
satisfied with liis own belief, and to 
turn longingly towards Catholicism, 
250-254; called on by Rev. Dr. Honey- 
wood, 254 - 259; forgets selfishly to 
consider Elsie's request for prayers, 
401-411; consults Dr. Kittredge pro- 
fessionally, who prescribes spiritually, 
401-407; his dream, 408-410; in his 
own pulpit, 413 et seq. ; calls upon the 
dying Elsie, 449-451; becomes a Ro- 
man Catholic, 473. 
Fairmount, Pa., 8, 71. 
"Fairy Queen," Spenser's, 6, 203. 
Faith, means self-trust, 2, x.; is self-re- 
liance, 93; stronger in women than in 
men, 3, 186; the strength and weak- 
ness of women, 5, 391; is the man in 
tempestuous times, 8, 79; true, and 
true philosophy ought to be one, 312 ; 
seen to end in child-murder, 394 ; the 
kind which breeds heroes better than 
an unbelief that leaves nothing worth 
being a hero for, 404 ; different meth- 
ods of instilling required by different 
persons, 419; restless ones under every 
form of, 420, 421. 
Fall of man, doctrine of the, 4, 252; 
belief in, fading away, 8, 398 ; at the 
bottom of religious difficulties, 401. 
Fallopius, 9, 279, 412, 423. 
False quantity, fatal mis-step for public 
men, 1, 110. 
False sentiment, 3, 136. 
Falsehoods, old, squirming when they 
are turned over, 1, 113. 
Falstaff quoted, 10, 26. 
Fame, struggle for, usually ends in noto- 
riety, 1, 290 ; desire for, 3, 160, 163; 
the penalty of, 161, 162 ; short cut to, 
4, 86. 
Familiarity in speaking of public char- 
acters, 4, 236. 
Families, vicissitudes of old, 5,11, 12; 
centrifugal principle of, 152; deteri- 
oration of certain, 8, 204, 205. 
Family, man of, 1, 20. 
Family doctors. See Doctors. 
Family portraits, those necessary to a 
man of family, 1, 21. 
Family silver, 5, 198. 
Fancies, beliefs frighten less than, 2, 
162. 
Fandango, Moorish, danced by Elsie 
Venner, 5, 147. 
Fantasia., 3, 61. 
Faraday, 8, 312 ; 9, 215, 217. 
Farmer's Almanac, 6, 85; 8,163. 
Farming, defect of, in New England, 9, 
277. 
Farr, on contagiousness of puerperal 
fever, 9, 104, 111 ; on contagiousness 
of small-pox, 133. 
Farrar, Archdeacon, 10,53, 57 ; guide at 
Westminster Abbey, 59, 61; sermon, 
73. 
Farringford, visit to Tennyson at, 10,68. INDEX. 
237 
Fascination, of spoken sounds, 3, 46, 
47; arts of, used by ministers, 6, 158. 
See also Charming; Evil Eye; Rattle- 
snakes. 
Fashion, intensely alive, 2, 136, 150 ; an 
attempt to realize art in living forms, 
151; foolish talk about, 152. See also 
Society, 
Fashionable life, misery of semi-provin- 
cial, 6, 256. 
Fashionable people, vocabulary of some 
very, 8, 274. See also Society. 
" Fast train and ' slow ' neighbor," the 
author's motto in railroad travel, 8, 
19. 
Fasting for forty days, stories of, 10, 
119. 
Fat, microscopic examination of, 8,192. 
" Fat " in printing, 6, 290. 
Fat man, 2, 132. 
Fate of books given by authors to their 
friends, 3, 301. 
Father, creed of, less important for 
most children than the mother's char- 
acter, 4, 247. 
Fauna of England, 10,191. 
Fay, Frank B., of Chelsea, 8, 38. 
Fear, resemblance of nervousness to, 2, 
255; power of, 3,127; fear, supersti- 
tious, not easily banished, 328 ; as a 
restraint in religion, 4, 258; the gate 
of, easily opened by love, 7, 246. 
Features, immovable, characteristic of 
humorists, 6, 227. 
February, a warm day in, 8,135; 14th 
of, 135. 
Fechter, his belief as to genius of 
Rachel, 7, 243. 
Feeble-minded children, rhyming as an 
amusement for, 4, 80. 
Feeders for the mind, 3, 80. 
Feeding-establishments, odious, 5,171. 
Feeling, that we have been in same cir- 
cumstances before, 1, 73; explana- 
tions of it, 74, 75 ; between England 
and America, 10, 184, 203. 
Feelings, each person has front-door 
and side-door to, 1, 128 ; keys to, 129. 
See also Emotions. 
Feline character of sea, 1, 264. 
Felton, President of Philadelphia, Wil- 
mington & Baltimore R. R., 8, 72. 
Females. See Women. 
Femineity, does not like muliebrity, 5, 
126. 
Ferns, 5,141 ; 6, 88; maiden hair, 5, 46. 
Fernelius, 9, 279, 375. 
Ferry-boats, Chelsea, 2, 289. 
Fever, sick man nourished by, 8, 1 ; 
diet in, 9, 268 ; Sydenham's treatment 
of, 344. See also Malaria. 
- puerperal, the contagiousness of, 9, 
103-172; belief that it is sometimes 
carried from patient to patient by 
medical assistance, 112, 131; the al- 
leged laws of contagion deduced in 
other diseases not to be cited in this, 
113; not a common disease, 113; all 
forms of, not equally contagious, 132; 
contagion of, not always followed by 
the disease, 133; may be produced 
and modified by many causes besides 
contagion, 133; series of cases of, in 
Massachusetts, 146 et seq. ; its con- 
nection with erysipelas, 147, 149, 154, 
155, 163, 164, 170; precautions to be 
taken by practitioners in cases of, 
168,169; additional authorities on both 
sides of the question, 165, 166, 169 
et seq. 
- typhoid, 7, 203 et seq.; 261 et seq. 
Fiacres, drivers of, 10, 162, 163. 
Fibres, of the body, 8, 193; involuntary 
muscular, 195 ; must be exercised, 202. 
Fichte, story of, 9, 406. 
Fiction, physiological basis of, 5, vii., ix. 
"Field, The," quoted, 10, 31, 33. 
Field of thought, 8, 269. 
Fields, James T., 1, 21 n. 
Fielitz, Dr., 9, 83. 
Fifth Avenue Hotel, 10, 182. 
Fifty years make everything old-fash- 
ioned without charm of antiquity, 
7, 2. 
Fight, between a Marylander and a 
butcher, 2, 51 ; well-conducted fight 
at English fair, 52; all of us have a 
little speck of, 152; between John 
and the Koh-i-noor, 279. 
Fighting-boy of school, his paleness 
before contest, 2, 268. 
" Fighting Gladiator," 2, 236. 
Figure or face, which the more attrac- 
tive, 2, 204. 
" Fils de Saint Louis, monte au ciel," 
8, 404. 
Fincelius, 5, 222. 
Finch, purple, in cage, 2, 94. 
"Fingering Slaves," Wordsworth's, 9, 
366. 
Finnegass, Henry, Esq., in The Pro- 
fessor, 2, 313. 
Fire, compared to a dragon, 2, 158. 
Firebugs, political, 3, 3. 
" Fire-hang-bird's Nest," Myrtle Haz- 
ard's room in The Guardian Angel, 
6, 22, 431. 
Fire-places, open, comfort of, 8, 182; 
healthfulness of, 208. 
Firmin, Giles, 9, 278-283, 328. 
Firmness, an indispensable quality in a 
doctor, 9, 389. 
First old age, an infant's life has char- 
acter of, 2, 66. 
First scholars, 7, 174. 
Fisher, landscapes by, in Athenaeum 
Picture Gallery, 7, 3. 
Fisher, Dr., of Beverly, 9, 307. 
Fisher, Prof., on original sin, 8, 383; 
on the need of candor in dealing with 
religious inquiries, 400. 
Fishes, in sunless cavern, 2, 179 ; trans- 
parency of small kinds, 229; one 
which stopped the leak in Captain 
Corain's ship, 3, 171; in Mammoth 
Cave, 9, 373. 238 
INDEX. 
Fishing, through the ice, 8,180, 181; an 
emotional employment, 181, 182. 
Fists, rotary motion of, 2, 18 ; English, 
10, 134. 
Five-Points children, 5, 324. 
Flagroot, 8, 140. 
Flat-Head Indian pappooses, 5, 392. 
Flattery, more agreeable when acted 
than when spoken, 2, 136 ; woman's 
subtle method of, 137 ; of abuse, 202. 
Flaubert, 4, 106 et seq. 
Flavor, nothing knows its own, 1, 55. 
Flaying of Danish pirates, 1, 107. 
Fleet, companions in life compared to a, 
1, 94. 
Fleet Street, 10, 154. 
Fleury, Louis, his experiments in homoe- 
opathy, 9, 61, 81. 
Flies, house, 3, 244 et seq. 
Flint, Professor Austin, 9,122. 
Flirting, 4, 136. 
Floating-island, 5, 110. 
Floor, effect of scraping, with chair, 
1, 50. 
Florence, 2, 85. 
Florida, as a resort for consumptives, 
9, 296. 
Flournoy, J. J., his dissertation on the 
marrying of three wives, 2, 5. 
Flower, Charles E., 10, 91, 94. 
Flower, Mrs. Cyril, 10, 37, 56. 
Flower, Edgar, 10, 94. 
Flower, Professor W. H., 10, 67. 
Flower-de-luce, 6, 81; 8, 148, 149. 
Flowers, poets' fondness for, 1, 228; in 
church, 2, 214; sketches of, in draw- 
ing book, 234; in old garden, 248 ; old- 
fashioned, 5, 60; the earliest spring, 
8, 139-143 ; wild, 10, 191. 
- and plants, namely: - 
Ailanthus, 8, 155. 
Alder, 8, 140. 
Anemone, 8, 142. 
Aster, 8, 161. 
Atragene Americana, 5, 101. 
Azalea, 8, 154. 
Bdellium, 5, 142. 
Blackberry, 2, 187. 
Bloodroot, 8, 142, 143. 
Box, 5, 142, 437. 
Buckwheat, 8, 159. 
Buttercup, 2, 231; 8, 142. 
Cardinal flower. 8, 156. 
Chickweed, 8, 139, 143. 
Columbine, 8, 142. 
Cowslip. 8, 143. 
Crocus, 8, 145. 
Daffodil, 4, 207 ; 8, 143. 
Daisies, 2, 234 ; 10, 19. 
Damask rose, 1, 227, 229. 
Dandelion, 2, 231; 8, 143. 
Epigaea repens, 8, 139, 154. 
Everlasting, 1, 73. 
Fern, 5, 46, 141; 6, 88. 
Flower-de-luce, 6, 81; 8, 148, 149 
Golden-rod, 8,161. 
Hepatica, 8, 139, 142. 
Hollyhock, 8, 148, 155. 
Honeysuckle, 2, 248 ; 8,154. 
Houstonia, 8, 143. 
Hyacinth. 8, 148, 149; 10, 18; blue. 
1, 228, 229. 
Larkspur, 8, 148. 
Laurel, 6, 88. 
Lilac, 1, 228, 229 ; 5, 143 ; 8,145,146. 
Lily, 8, 63. 
Lily of the valley, 4, 226. 
Lupin, 8, 148. 
Maidenhair fern, 1, 46. 
Marguerite, 4, 209. 
Marigold, 8, 162. 
Marsh marigold, 8, 142. 
Mignonette, 2, 182. 
Morning glories, 4, 293; 6, 73; 8,162. 
Peony, 8, 148. 
Phlox, 8, 142. 
Pond-lily, 8, 143, 153. 
Primrose, 10, 18. 
Rose, 8, 146, 148, 149, 150, 153. 
Saxifrage, 8, 142, 143. 
Shad-flower, 8, 142. 
Skunk-cabbage, 8, 139,141. 
Succory, 8, 154. 
Sunflower, 8, 150. 
Tulip, 8, 148. 
Valerian, 1, 70. 
Violet, 8, 142, 143, 144. 
Wheat, 4, 209. 
Witch-hazel, 8, 140. 
Yellow lilies, 6, 88. 
Zinnia, 8, 162. 
Floyer, Sir John, 9, 413. 
Fluid as typifying the mobility of re- 
stricted will, 2, 34. 
Fly-paper, 8, 5. 
Flying, boating near approach to, 1,168. 
Flying Childers, 10, 40. 
Flynt, Henry, 5, 27. 
Fog at sea, 10, 181. 
Fog whistle, 10, 181. 
Foliage, grotesque shapes of, 5, 266. 
Folly often teaches wisdom, 2, 13. 
Fontanelle, women influence men as it 
were by pressure on, 1, 222. 
Food, and longevity, 4, 184; our first 
and last, is air, 8, 199; elements to be 
supplied in, 203 ; amount and nature 
of, 215-220 ; digestibility of various 
substances of, 218-220 ; definition of, 
9,197 ; definition of aliment, 255; pre- 
sumption in favor of, 265; its part in 
medical curative treatment, 267 ; Eng- 
lish and American compared, 10, 200, 
201. See also, Air ; Nitrogen ; Pigs' 
feet; Pork ; Tripe ; Vegetarians ; 
Veal; Venison. 
Foot, function of, in walking, 8, 123. 
Forbes, Sir John, 9,182. 
Forbes, John M., called Lord of the 
Manor at Naushon, 1, 39 n. 
Force, intellectual products not in the 
category of physical. 8 , 293; what 
changes the form of, 294; conserva- 
tion of, 9, 217 ; nature of, 218, 235. 
Forces of nature, development of, 4, 31; 
warfare of man with, 54. INDEX. 
239 
Foreign correspondence in newspapers, 
1, 117. 
Foreign language, peculiar delight in 
reading a, 8, 350. 
Foreknowledge, divine, 8, 302. 
"Forest Scenery," by William Gilpin, 
4, 27, 213. 
Forests, built up mainly from air-cur- 
rents, 2, 67. 
Forestus, 9, 65. 
Forget, we must get before we can, 9, 
300. 
Forgotten, pleasure of being, 3, 161. 
Fork, trick of impaling meat with, at a 
Commons-table, 2, 58. 
Formulae, as a substitute for character, 
9, 367. 
Forrester, Miss Letty, in Elsie Venner, 
5,234 et seq.; her prettiness, 302,303; 
feels subtle influence of Elsie, 309 et 
seq. ; engaged to Bernard Langdon. 
485-487. 
Fort Hill, sliced down, 8, 160. 
Forty days' fasting, stories of, 10,119. 
Foster, Birket, his pictures of English 
landscape, 10, 22. 
Foster, John, of Brighton, 3, 14. 
Fothergill, Dr. John, Franklin's en- 
comium of, 10, 157. 
Fothergill, Dr. J. Milner, 10, 157. 
Foucault's grand experiment, 10, 165. 
Foundlings, planetary, 4, 40, 54, 55. 
Fountain, genius compared to, 2, 288. 
Fourscore, the Mont Blanc of, 4, 27. 
Fourteen-syliable verse, 8, 317. 
Fourth of July, author's oration on, 
Boston, 1863, 8, 79; the day remem- 
bered by the author in England, 10, 
94. 
Fowls, fondness of, for sunlight, 8, 210. 
Fox, the fasting man, 10, 119. 
Fox, Rev. Jabez, of Woburn, 3, 13. 
Fox, Dr. Wilson, 10, 199. 
Fox-fire, 6, 95. 
Foxglove, 2, 261. 
Fra Angelico, two faces by, 2, 178. 
Frailties of the rich, 3, 296. 
Framingham, Mass., 8, 76. 
France, attitude of, toward the North 
in Civil war, 8, 100; 10, 178; the 
France of Louis Philippe, 10, 1; from 
Boulogne to Paris, unattractive, 161. 
Francis, Dr., 9, 141. 
Franklin, Benjamin, quoted, 1,124, not 
ashamed to be born in Boston, 2,15 ; 
ballad by, mentioned, 306; his look, 
3,6; as referred to, by Dr. Johnson, 
265; one of the two Americans who 
established a European reputation as 
a philosopher, 8, 362; his encomium 
of Dr. John Fothergill, 10, 157. 
Franklin, " Sir Ben," 8, 64. 
Franklin, Benjamin, the Landlady's son 
in The Autocrat. See Benjamin Frank- 
lin. 
Franklin, Dr. B., the Landlady's son in 
The Poet. See Doctor B. Franklin. 
Franklin, Governor, William, 9, 23. 
Franklin-place, Boston, front yards in, 
1, 272. 
Frankland, Sir Harry, 10, 121. 
Freaks of nature. See Monstrosities. 
Frederick, Maryland, in 1862, 8, 25, 26; 
natural beauty of, 47. 
Freedom, in America and England, 2, 
81; religious and political must be 
maintained, 125; freedom from dis- 
turbance demanded by creative power, 
3,100; freedom of discussion in scien- 
tific questions, 182; gain in, 185; 
of thought, Boston's influence for, 2, 
3; as related to the convictions of 
others, 3, 307; in politics always gen- 
erates a new type of religious char- 
acter, 8, 310 ; of speech, 9, 206. 
- of the will. See Will. 
Freeman, the " American giant," 8,230. 
Freeman, Rev. James, 4, 196. 
Freemasonry, 2, 298. 
Freethinker, a term of reproach in Eng- 
land, 2, 81. 
French, the, their dramatic way of put- 
ting things, 8, 350, 354; we learn 
wonderful things of ourselves in their 
books, 351; their ingenuity in twisting 
English, 352 ; superior to English and 
Americans in prescribing for disease, 
9, 204; criticisms on their surgical 
practice, 205. 
French and English Dictionary, Bel- 
lows's, 10, 40. 
French institute, obduracy of, 9, 49. 
French language, study of, 1, 57 ; the 
Landlady's son's exercise in, 58, 136; 
as taught in Apollinean institute in 
Elsie Venner, 5, 49. 
Frenchman, the eccentric, 3, 225. 
Frere Jacques, 9, 366. 
Friendship, does not authorize disagree- 
able things to intimates, 1,51; friends 
shown up by story-writers, 61 ; a per- 
son learns his own progress in noti- 
cing that of others, 93; a calm, clear 
mind the best basis for, 131; intel- 
lectual companionship not necessary 
to, 131; unexpected, the result of 
sympathetic disposition, 3, 154; no 
time for, among naturalists, 249. 
Fright, death caused by, 7, 91. 
Frog pond, 2, 3,281 ; 3,314 ; 8,138,146. 
Frogs, 6, 88 ; adapted by nature for the 
purposes of the physiologist, 8, 195; 
nervous system of, 196. 
Front and side doors to feelings, 1, 128. 
Frost, the first, 8, 162. 
Froude, as to Bloody Mary's hysterics, 
6, 171. 
Frozen limbs, treatment of, 9, 67. 
Fruit, intellectual green, the United 
States a market for, 1, 261; " mourn- 
ing " fruit, 307 ; early loss of, compen- 
sated, 10, 169. 
Fuel, carbon for, in human economy, 1, 
Fuller, Dr., of England, a Perkinist, 9, 240 
INDEX. 
Fuller, Margaret, her eyes, 5, 101; as a 
school-girl, 8, 241-243. 
Fuller, Dr. Samuel, 9 , 325. 
Fuller's " Holy War," 2, 235 ; its title- 
page, 4,117. 
Fulton, Robert, moving in parallel path 
with other inventors, 8, 84. 
Funny, authors and actors ashamed of 
being, 1, 50. 
Furrows, three, on forehead, the result 
of three dogmas, 6, 124. 
Future life, solemnity commonly thought 
essential to idea of, 1, 92. 
Future of human race, vision of, 6, 406. 
Future punishment. See Punishment, 
future. 
Gaffarel, 5, 223. 
Gaffield, Mr., experiments of, on the ef- 
fect of sunlight on glass, 8, 210. 
Gager, Wm., 9, 325. 
Gahs, the Boarding-house lighted with, 
2, 317. 
Gainsborough, 10, 47 ; his Blue Boy, 54. 
Gairdner, Professor, 10, 197. 
Galen, 5, 315; 9, 178, 251; story of, 7, 
232, 252 ; psalm of praise of, 8, 415; 
medical system of, 9, 318 ; Moliere, sa- 
tirized system of, 319 ; Galenists were 
herb-doctors, 319. 
Galileo, 9 94; in Cathedral of Pisa, 10, 
166. 
Galiots, Amsterdam, 8, 58, 59. 
Gall, Dr., on modern therapeutics, 8, 
307. 
Galton, Francis, 3, 303 ; 8, 397; 10, 
151, 196. 
Galvani, noticed the twitching of frog's 
legs, 8, 378. 
Galvanic signals, velocity of, 8, 272. 
Galvanism, origin of, 7, 242. 
Gambetta, his fiery youth, 10, 168. 
Gambling, fostered by horse-racing, 1, 
34 ; not republican, 34. 
Gambrel-roofed house, 2, 188, 230; 7, 
22 ; the Poet's recollections of, 3, 10 
et seq.; its unpretentiousness, 12; its 
tenants, 13, 18; its clerical visitors, 
14; its trees, 19; its garden, 20 et seq.; 
its outlook, 22 ; its cellar, 23; its gar- 
ret, 24; the old books of the garret, 
26; its historic associations, 28; its 
later use, 28; its romances, 29; its im- 
provements, 30 ; 4, 100 ; description 
of, 7, 23, 29,30,31; destruction of, 23. 
Garden, the hired-man's, in Elsie Ven- 
ner, 5, 137 ; a terraced, 142; old- 
fashioned, 8, 147-150. 
Garden parties, formidable, 10, 56 ; one 
at Kensington Palace, 56, 57, 187,206; 
at Stratford-on-Avon, 98, 99. 
Gardiner, Colonel, miraculous appear- 
ance seen by, 6, 95. 
Gargoyle, 5,410. 
Garibaldi. 8, 100. 
Garret, old, awfulness of, 6, 31. 
Garrick, 5, 224. 
Garrison, W. L., 8, 83. 
Garter of J. Howell, 9, 9. 
Gaskell. Mrs., her "Cranford," 10, 
107. 
Gasparin, Count, a friend to the North 
in Civil war, 8, 99. 
Gaspings for Immortality, 4, 88. 
Gastric juice, 9, 237. 
Gavarret, 9, 431. 
Gay, Dr. George H., 8, 17. 
Gay, John, 10, 59. 
Geddings, Dr., 9, 416. 
Geese, for swans, 1, 273; flying south, 
8, 169. 
Gellius, Aulus, quoted, 9, 287. 
Genevieve, St., sarcophagus of, 1, 280; 
8, 64; 10, 164. 
"Genevieve," Coleridge's, 6, 316, 317, 
389 ; 7, 233, 246. 
Genius, a weak flavor of, not agreeable 
to common people, 1, 3; geniuses 
may admire each other, 3 ; types of, 7; 
its advent a surprise, 54 ; tendency of, 
to stimulation, 187; must be demon- 
strated, 290, 291 ; end of, when its 
special affinities are worked out, 2, 
25 ; a union of strength and sensibil- 
ity, 223; compared with talent, 240 ; 
should marry character, 287 ; wife of, 
compared to tug invisibly drawing tall 
ship, 289; truthfulness is essence of, 
290; hereditary, 4, 90 ; the strange, 
divine, dread gift of, 6, 100 ; the last 
triumph of the gift of, 319 ; in clus- 
ters, rarely a single star. 8, 84; not 
necessary in a physician, 9 , 384. 
Genius for religion, 3, 128. 
Gentility, humanity comes before, 2, 
145 ; pretensions to, 153; heroism is, 
8,8. 
Gentleman: few gentlemen are ruined 
by drinking, 1, 190; the face of a, 
193; a congenital incapacity for being 
a, 219 ; misuse of word, 2, 144; what 
constitutes a, 204 ; alone endurable in 
full dress, 5,103 ; indifference of a, to 
gossip of inferiors, 277 ; signs of a, 7, 
54, 55, 76. 
Gentry, mansion-house sort of, in Elsie 
Venner, 5, 102. 
Geology, 5, 318; of the human body, 8, 
191; objects of, 10,188. 
George III., 10, 184. 
George IV., 10, 96. 
Gerard, Herball of, 9, 280. 
Gerhard, Dr., on contagion, 9, 119. 
Gericault's " Wreck of the Medusa," 
10, 16, 170. 
German women, sweet voices of, 1, 215. 
Germany, welcomed the practice of 
Paracelsus, 9, 319. 
" Gertrude of Wyoming," 8, 49. 
Ghosts, Bentham's logic against, 2,189; 
false, 257; no opportunities for, in 
modern houses, 3, 23; of boyhood, 
met on revisiting old haunts, 254-259; 
Mme. de Steel's feelings with regard 
to, 429; lacking at English country, 
house, 10, 98. INDEX. 
241 
Giant, Irish, 10, 67, 68. 
Gibbon's story of the monks of Mount 
Athos, 3, 106. 
Gibraltar of the Gulf, 8, 95. 
Gideon, test of, 4, 122. 
Gift-enterprises, Nature fond of, 1, 55. 
Gigmanity, 10, 141. 
Gil Blas, and the Archbishop, 1, 51; 
quotation from Introduction to "Gil 
Blas," 199. 
Gilbert, the French poet, quoted, 1, 
185. 
Gilman, Arthur, the architect, 1, 21 n.; 
10, 194. 
Gilmour, Mr. David, 10, 196. 
Gilpin, Rev. William, a set of his works, 
1, 231 ; his orange-juice landscapes, 
232 ; story from his " Forest Scenery," 
4, 27 ; his study of trees, 213 ; thought 
the donkey more picturesque than a 
horse in a landscape, 273 ; 10, 61. 
Gingko tree, 1, 277. 
Girardet, 10, 170. 
Girls, fall of two girls from a gallery in 
a church, 1, 280; 10, 165; a beautiful 
girl is a terrible fact, 2,176; influence 
of a girl's face, 181; strange audacity 
often blended with delicacy in young 
girls, 222; unprotected girls in board- 
ing-houses, 223; depths of their na- 
ture, 228; revelations of soul of a girl 
through her poems and drawings, 229- 
240 ; souls of young, 6, 73; attractive 
costume of, 370; beauty of, in New 
England, 7, 50; education of, 172 et 
seq. ; hysteria of, 1.94, 221, 322 ; grass 
makes, 8, 51. See also Women. 
Giving up on account of age, not to be 
thought of, 1, 162. 
Gladiators, unwinking, 5, 209, 332. 
Gladstone, 4, 34,136, 292 ; said to think 
himself too old to cross the ocean, 10, 
9 ; at Epsom races, 31 ; his military 
aspect at Lady Rosebery's, 44; his 
speech on the Irish question, 63, 64. 
Gladstone, Mrs., 10, 43. 
Glands, vascular, 9, 238. 
Glasgow, 8, 387 ; 10, 7. 
Glass, change of color in, by sunlight, 
8, 210. 
Glass-blower anticipated by Nature, 9, 
233. 
Glendower, Owen, 9, 382. 
Gloucester, England, 10, 41. 
Gloucester and Bristol, bishop of, 10, 
54. 
Gloucester, Mass., men of, and the 
devils, 9, 355. 
Glove-maker's sign, Autocrat's childish 
fear of, 1, 205. 
God, human life as compared to, 2, 10; 
opens the Book of life to doctors, 5, 
325; the God of Edwards not a trinity 
but a quaternity, 8, 368 ; often pic- 
tured as Moloch, 414 ; of the physi- 
cian, 9, 365. 
Gods of the heathen, servants of to-day, 
3, 271. 
Goethe, pictured thought of, 8, 282. 
Gold, the charm and power of, 3, 255 
et seq. ; the " innocent sin-breeder," 
6, 218. 
Gold piece hung about the neck of scrof- 
ulous persons, 9, 3. 
Goldback, a greenback of no value with- 
out a, 9, 404. 
Golden blonde, the, at school, 8, 241. 
Golden book of Venice, 2, 86. 
Goldenrod, Mrs. Midas, in The Poet, her 
visits to The Lady, 3, 55; her likes 
and dislikes, 294. 
Golden rule in matters of religion, 4, 
197. 
"Golden Treasury," 10, 52. 
Goldsmith, 7, 177 ; 10, 35,133,154, 155, 
162 ; his " Madam Blaize " borrowed 
from the French, 2, 231; his old sol- 
dier, 8, 10. 
Gondolas, Venetian, uniformly black, 5, 
103. 
Gooch, Dr., on puerperal fever, 9, 137, 
138. 
Good-breeding easily adjusts itself, 5, 
304, 305. 
Good-bye, the Dictator's, 4, 314. 
Good manners, worth of, 3, 58. 
Good Samaritan, 3, 306. 
Good time going, A, 1, 223. 
Goodwood cup, 1, 34. 
Gooseberry fool, young talent compared 
to, 1, 261. 
Gordon, Dr., of Aberdeen, Scotland, 9, 
103, 134, 135, 166, 221. 
Gorgeana, capital of Province of Maine, 
10, 121. 
Gorges, Sir Thomas, 10, 120, 121; asso- 
ciations with his name, 121. 
Gorton, Samuel, 9, 334. 
Goschen, Mr., 10, 51. 
Gospel, of Saint Petroleum, 3, 40; of 
dread tidings, 8, 384, 432. 
Gosse, Mr. Edmund, 10, 53; at Cam- 
bridge, England, 71. 
Gosse, P. W., argues for the existence 
of the sea serpent, 8, 168; his belief 
with respect to fossil skeleton, 168, 
311. 
Gossip of inferiors, indifference of gen- 
tlemen to, 5, 277. 
Gould, Dr., report of, on Transatlantic 
longitude, 8, 272 ; 9, 443. 
Gould, Miss Hannah F., 7, 8. 
Gower, Lord Ronald, 10, 53. 
Gown, academic, splendor of, 10, 87. 
Graaf, de, 9, 412. 
Gracchi, the, 2, 288. 
Grace before meat in England, 10, 78, 
130. 
Grace of God not private property, 3, 
327; grace opposed to nature in the 
scholastic theology, 3, 304. 
Graciousness mistaken for condescen- 
sion, 3, 55. 
Graduates, college. See " Boys, The." 
Graduates from the Academy of love, 4, 
243. 242 
INDEX. 
Grafted trees, 3, 165. 
Grammar, higher law in, 1, 40. 
" Grammar of assent," Newman's, 1, 
14. 
Granary Burying-ground, 1, 239, 240; 
elms of, torn up, 8, 163. 
Grand Assize, the last, 4, 312. 
Grand climacteric, 4, 30, 38. 
Grand manner, 3, 334. 
Grand-paternal instinct in bachelors, 6, 
47. 
Grand Pump-Room Hotel, at Bath, 10, 
105. 
Granville, Lady, 10, 28. 
Granville, Lord, 10, 31. 
Grape, wild, 9, 321. 
Grass makes girls, 8, 51. 
Gratiolet, on the development of the 
brain, 8, 268. 
Grauvogel, 9, 414. 
Gravel, clean, an anodyne, 2, 265; gravel 
walks, rents in nature's green gar- 
ment, 8, 149. 
Graves, Dr., of Dublin, 9, 298. 
Gravestones, transplanting of, 1, 239. 
Graveyards. See Burial grounds; Gra- 
nary. 
Gray, Asa, 9, 439; 10, 183. 
Gray's " Elegy," 7, 167. 
Grayden, James, the driver, 8, 28^43. 
Great Britain, attitude of, toward the U. 
S. in the Civil war, 8, 97; commentary 
on British institutions, 98,99; border 
warfare of England and Scotland, 107, 
108; bears an income-tax of 10 per 
cent, in the Napoleonic wars, 111. 
Great Eastern, cost of the. 1, 72. 
Great fire in London, 10, 154, 179. 
Great Malvern, 10, 101, 102; ascent of 
the Beacon, 102. 
Great men, not commonly great schol- 
ars, 1, 132; all schools have some who 
are destined to be, 8, 250. 
Great names, authority of, in religious 
opinions, 8, 423-426. 
Great organ in Boston Music Hall, 3, 95. 
Great secret, a, intimations of, in many 
persons, 2,177 ; it is not the secret of 
love, 180. 
Great Teacher, the, 2, 32. 
"Greek Anthology," 6, 203. 
Greek young men, beauty of, 2, 283. 
Green, Mrs., in Elsie Kenner, 5, 114, 
115. 
Green fruit, intellectual, United States 
a great market for, 1, 261. 
Greene, J. S. C., 9, 425. 
Greene, Nathaniel, 8, 10. 
" Greenfield Hill" of Timothy Dwight, 
8, 137. 
Greenland, Mr., 9, 340. 
Gregory the Great, his pun on Saxon 
children, 10, 23. 
Gregory, Dr., on contagion, 9, 118. 
Gridley, Byles, M. A., a retired school- 
master and college professor in The 
Guardian Angel, 6, 2 ; his study, 39, 
108, 141; his character, 138 et seq.; 
his wisdom, 40, 41; the father of a 
dead book, 42, 43 ; his capacity for 
seeing out of the back of his head, 55; 
finds Myrtle, 112 et seq.; warns young 
Dr. Hurlbut about Myrtle, 140 et seq.; 
warns Myrtle from the Rev. Mr. Sto- 
ker, 175 et seq. ; helps Myrtle to go to 
the city to school, 263 et seq.; invites 
Gifted Hopkins to go with him to pub- 
lisher, 293 et seq. ; his appearance at 
Mrs. Ketchum's party, 317 et seq.; 
compels Cynthia Badlam to surrender 
a paper, 352 et seq.; comforts Susan 
Posey as to her lost love for Clement 
Lindsay, 372 et seq. ; is asked to take 
charge of the Withers property for 
Myrtle, 414 ; comes to live at The Pop- 
lars, 423; Myrtle calls him her Guar- 
dian Angel, 431. See also " Thoughts 
on the Universe." 
Grief, having been love once, may be 
love again, 5, 470; griefs which are 
never put into words, 194, 195, 249. 
Grierson, Col., 8, 102. 
Griesselich, Dr., 9, 83. 
Grisi, 10, 5. 
Groom, Yorkshire: his fight with sopho- 
more, 2, 53. 
Grosvenor House, pictures at, 10, 54. 
Grotius, Hugo, quoted, 8, 115. 
Ground-bait, literary, 1, 38. 
Groups, facts most easily acquired in, 
9, 287. 
Growth, process of, in human body, 8, 
198. 
Grysant, physician and pope, 9, 320. 
Guano, 9, 372. 
Guarnerius violin, 2, 308. 
Guelph spine and neck, 10, 89. 
Guerin, Maitre, quoted on sleep of as- 
sassin, 8, 334. 
Guest, undesired, 5, 156. 
Guibourt, 9, 79. 
Guides, queer notions of, 8, 63, 64. 
Guido Reni, 10, 170. 
Guillotine, abolition of, advocated, 8, 
265. 
Guilt, heritable, doctrine of, 3, 268. See 
also Automatism ; Heredity ; Imbe- 
ciles, moral; Original sin; Responsi- 
bility ; Sin. 
Guinea-worm, its burrowing compared 
to intemperance, 1, 188. 
Gulf-stream, 2, 14. 
Gull, Sir William, 10, 27. 
Gulliver, 2, 247. 
Gun-shot wounds, as treated by Part, 
9, 270; treated with water, 270. 
Gunn, Richard, toys of, 8, 160. 
Gwyllyn, David Ap, 3, 325. 
Gymnotus, 3, 45. 
Gynophobia, account of a case of, 7, 
230 et seq. 
Gypsies, averse to civilization, 5, 317. 
Habits, a mask of age, 1, 155; an ap- 
proximation of animal system to the 
organic, 155; formation of, ought to 243 
INDEX. 
be special characteristic of age, 156; 
force of, 4, 27 ; the crutch of old age, 
37 ; take place of self-determination, 
5, 252 ; of doctors, 9, 386. 
Hackett, Horatio B., as a school-boy at 
Andover, 8, 248. 
Hadfield, would-be murderer of George 
III., 5, 226. 
Hadrian, Emperor, 4, 45. 
Hagen, Prof. H. A., 9, 439. 
Hahnemann, Samuel, 9, 41 et seq.; char- 
acter of some of the authors quoted 
by, 63; misquotations of, 65; vender 
of secret remedies, 98; his inability 
to weigh the value of testimony, 185; 
his theory of " dynamization," 419; 
bust of, 10, 101; disciples of, 172. 
Hailes, Joseph, "the spider," the mus- 
cles of, 8, 229; died of consumption, 
230. 
Hair, variety of, 2, 80. 
Hair-cutting, associated with cutting 
grass and rum, 8, 154. 
Hair-spring of watch, meddling with, 2, 
43. 
Hale, Edward Everett, 4, 9. 
Hale, Sir Matthew, sanctioned convic- 
tion for witchcraft, 8, 423. 
Half-knowledge, 9, 407. 
Half-time allowed to college students, 
5, 16. 
Halford, Sir Henry, 3, 102 ; 10, 96. 
Hall, Bishop, on the election of a wife, 
3, 304 ; 6, 195. 
Hall, Marshall, 5, 227. 
Hall, Robert, on Jonathan Edwards, 8, 
362; read and re-read the " Freedom 
of the Will," 374. 
Hall-mark of silver, 1, 308. 
Hall of Eblis, in " Vathek," insane asy- 
lum compared to, 1, 247. 
Halle, John, the Halle of, 10, 122. 
Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 4, 41 ; 7, 5. 
Haller, as quoted by Dr. Laycock, on rec- 
ord on the brain, 8, 299; quoted on 
Abbas, 357, 358 ; on vis insita of the 
muscular fibre, 9, 240 ; at a disadvan- 
tage by being a poet, 298 ; would have 
admired Dr. Billings's catalogue, 406. 
Halley, and the law of gravitation, 8, 
84. 
Hallucinations, caused by religious stim- 
ulants, 8, 416. 
Halo, meaning of, 7, 244. 
Hamilton, Lady Claude, 10, 47. 
Hamilton, Sir Wm. R., his period of in- 
cubation in discovery of quaternions, 
8, 281, 282. 
" Hamlet," quoted, 8, 275; 9, 376. 
Hammond, Dr. William A., favored im- 
portation of light wines, 8, 223; on 
the use of tea and coffee, 225; quoted 
on the relations of brain and mind, 
262, 263. 
Hammond, Governor, 8, 105. 
Hancock, Goodman, 9, 337. 
Hancock house, Boston, 2, 42. 
Hand, wooden, a glove-maker's sign, 
Autocrat's fear of, 1, 205 ; influence 
of a cold, damp, 2, 71 ; of dead man 
cures swellings, 246; 9, 360. 
Handwriting of persons with squinting 
brain, 4, 204. 
Hanging, not the best use to which the 
criminal can be put, 8, 345. 
Hanging-point, the only fixed standard 
of punishments, 8, 324. 
Hangman's stone, various legends of, in 
England, 1, 282 et seq. ; 10, 6, 119. 
Hannibal, 3, 300. 
Happy Valley, in " Rasselas," 6, 77. 
Harcourt, Lady, 10, 24, 28, 42, 179. 
Harcourt, Sir William, 10, 43; rooms at 
Cambridge, 71. 
Harford, Canon, sermon of, in West- 
minster Abbey, 10, 29. 
Harlan, Dr., rejected the notion that 
the moon caused insanity, 8, 212. 
Harpsfield, Dr., 9, 4. 
Harris, Dr., of New York, on inherited 
crime, 8, 343. 
Harris, Thaddeus Mason, D. D., 3, 15. 
Harris, Prof. William T., quoted on the 
habit of women of opening car win- 
dows, 8, 214; quoted on woman's meth- 
ods of clothing, 227 ; on closing the 
day with devotions, 231. 
Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, description 
of, 8, 63; Brant House at, 64. 
Harry, a handsome Marylander in The 
Professor, 2, 51 ; his fight with 
butcher on muster-day, 52. 
Hartford, 1, 244 ; 8, 76. 
Hartington, Lord, 10, 42. 
Hartley, David, on reflex actions, 8, 277, 
278,378; 9,248. 
Hartmann, Dr., of Leipsic, 9, 83. 
Hartshorn, spirits of, uses of, 6, 344. 
Harvard College, Memorial Hall, 1, 
20 n. ; burning of Calef's book in 
yard, 2, 8 ; 8, 414 ; Samuel Adams at 
Commencement, 41; trick at Com- 
mons-table, 58 ; mysterious mark in 
wall of dormitory, 187 ; Harvard hall, 
3, 10; Massachusetts hall, 10 ; Hol- 
den, 10; Class of 1829, 4, 28; 10, 
111; Commencement as it was, 272; 
growth of, 7, 27 ; students guard the 
Cambridge arsenal, 8, 12 ; Commence- 
ment, 158-161; ugliness of "Univer- 
sity building," 246 ; founding of the 
Medical school, 9, 349; two medical 
libraries of, 398; growth of medical 
faculty, 421; the author, professor at, 
for thirty-five years, 10, 7, 79. 
"Harvard Lyceum," quoted, 8, 166. 
Harvey, William, 3, 106; 9, 94, 97, 179, 
222, 292, 412. 
Hastings, Henry, his robust longevity, 
4, 27. 
Hastings, battle of, 10, 65. 
Hat, the vulnerable point of the outer 
man, 1, 177; anecdote of a Leghorn 
straw, 177; shabby gentility betrayed 
by, 178 ; the ultimum moriens of re- 
spectability, 178; on wrong side fore< 244 
most, 242 ; on one side, a sign of exu- 
berant vitality in a mature man, 8,62 ; 
English feeling for the, 10, 193. 
Hatfield, large elm at, 1, 235. 
Hathaway, Anne, cottage of, 10, 97, 
130. 
Hatred, 1, 219. 
Haughton, Prof., quotation of, from 
" Medicine in Modern Times," 8, 262. 
Haunted house, fear of, 2, 162. 
Havelocks, 8, 116. 
Haven, Bishop Gilbert, quoted, 8, 413. 
Haverhill, Mass., visited, 8, 252. 
Haweis, Rev. H. R., 4, 273 et seq. ; 10, 
11, 28, 41, 54. 
Hawthorn, in Windsor Park, 10, 49. 
Hawthorne, 1, 2 n.; "The Marble 
Faun," 5, x.; "The Scarlet Letter," 
7, 7; 8, 18; day of his burial, 145 ; 
squashes described by, 149; illumi- 
nated the memory of Dr. Swinner- 
ton, 9, 358 ; letter to Longfellow, 10, 
203. 
Haygarth, Dr., 9 21; story told by, 
concerning Perkmism, 27 ; his success 
in its practice, 36, 78 ; early advocate 
of vaccination, 96. 
Haying time, smell of rum in, 8, 154. 
Hayley, first part of this century suf- 
fering from the song of, 8, 84. 
Hays, Catharine, burnt at Tyburn, 1, 
33 n. 
Hayward, George, 9, 353. 
Hazard, R. G., on freedom of the will, 8, 
302, 378. 
Hazard, Captain Charles, father of Myr- 
tle in The Guardian Angel, 6, 26. 
Hazard, Myrtle, heroine of The Guar- 
dian Angel, advertisement for, 6, 6 ; 
shut in garret to break her will, 31; 
finds her uncle Malachi hanging dead, 
34; depressing influences upon her, 
78; steals from The Poplars by night, 
85 et seq. ; vision seen by her of her 
dead ancestors, 91-95; rescued from 
drowning by Clement Lindsay, 104; 
returns home with Master Gridley, 
118 ; becomes hysterical, 131 et seq. ; 
comes under spiritual fascinations of 
Rev. Mr. Stoker, 159 et seq.; Master 
Gridley warns her, 175 et seq.; her 
revery, 180 et seq.; her religious char- 
acter, 195; her three admirers, 212 et 
seq. ; meets Clement Lindsay for sec- 
ond time, 244; he idealizes her in a 
bust of Liberty, 252 et seq. ; early ex- 
periences at the city school, 268 et 
seq. ; her strange part in the tableaux, 
278 et seq.; at Mrs. Ketchum's party, 
311 et seq. ; meets Clement Lindsay 
there, 324 ; return to Oxbow Village, 
325 ; Clement Lindsay calls upon her, 
382; accepts Lindsay's affection, 388 
et seq.; William Murray Bradshaw 
offers his love and is rejected, 396 et 
seq. ; receives the news that the 
Withers property is settled in her fa- 
vor, 412 et seq. ; married to Clement, 
INDEX. 
and then accompanies him to the front 
in Civil war, 417 et seq. 
Head, Sir Francis, speaks of showers 
parting on the Cordilleras, 8, 46. 
Head, erectile, men of genius have, 1, 
7; double walls of, unfavorable to 
phrenology, 2, 199; grows as the in- 
tellect expands, 8, 289. 
Headache, acquires dignity if called 
cephalalgia, 3, 127; reflex, 4, 129; 
varieties of, 5, 69; caused by bad air, 
8, 213. 
Healing art. its professional hardness, 
2, 263. See also Medicine. 
Health, how to preserve, 4, 186 ; curve 
of, 187. 
Health resorts, 9,296. 
Hearing, nerve of, 4, 98 ; 8, 271. 
Heart, should not grow cold with age, 
1, 174; inscriptions on, 246; wild, 
hidden under decorum, 2, 94, 158; 
full of combustibles, 159 ; our hearts 
held to our homes by innumerable 
fibres, 247; women subject to atrophy 
of, 249; displacement of, 259 ; a wick 
of lamp of life, 260; creed of, 298 ; 
how influenced by the emotions, 7, 
232; mechanism of its action, 234 ; its 
relation to the brain, 235 ; power of 
Col. Townsend to suspend its action, 
237 ; action of, after death, 8, 201; 
palpitation of, caused by tea, 224; ac- 
tion of, involuntary, 329. 
- disease of, 2, 251; difficult breathing 
in, 257 ; caused by emotion, 8, 2 ; by 
over-exertion, 230. 
Heart-hunger, 4, 217. 
Heart-starvation, 4, 309. 
Heat, artificial, necessary to human be- 
ings raised under glass, 8, 208; ani- 
mal, production of, 9, 239. 
Heathen, goodness of, 2, 121. 
Heathenism, Christian, 4, 250. 
Heaven, assessors of, 1, 92; to reach 
port of, we must sail and not drift, 
93; voices of, 217 ; inward disgust 
for, in children, 2, 185; an experi- 
ment, 4, 35 ; its way of putting ques- 
tions to mortals, 8, 15; books of, kept 
by double entry, 305. 
Heberden, William, 9, 311. 
Hecquet, Dr., 9, 299. 
Hedges, 10, 22. 
" Hedging," the only safe rule in prophe- 
sying, 8, 12. 
Heitland, Mr., his poem of greeting to 
Dr. Holmes, at St. Jolin's college, 
Cambridge, 10, 79. 
Hell, of the church is the Tartarus of 
the heathen w'orld, 4, 254; as con- 
ceived by Edwards, 8, 384, 399. 
Helmholtz, 9, 217. 
Helminthia, one of the twins in The 
Guardian Angel, 6, 53. 
Helmont, Van, 9, 279. 
Hemlock, 1, 264, 286 ; 5, 47, 187. 
Henchman's apothecary shop, 2, 231. 
Henniker, Lord, 9, 23. INDEX. 
245 
Henry, Matthew, quoted on the effect 
of troubles, 8, 306 n. 
Henry, Patrick, accents of liberty of, 8, 
84. 
Hepatica triloba, one of the first spring 
flowers, 8, 139. 
Heraclitus, Carlyle compared to, 10, 
140. 
Herb-doctors are Galenists, 9, 319. 
" Herball," of Gerard, 9, 280. 
Herbert, George, 3, 110; residence of, 
10, 110, 125-127 ; Emerson's obliga- 
tions to, 126; his little chapel, 127. 
Herbert, Gladys (Lady Lonsdale and 
Lady de Grey), 10, 46. 
Herbert family, 10, 119. 
Herbs : the smell of everlasting, 1, 76; 
bundles of, in old closet, 78; em- 
ployed by Gov. Winthrop, 9, 332 ; Sir 
W. Temple's list of helpful, 361. 
Hercules, 2, 89. 
Hereditary genius, 4, 90. 
Hereditary instincts. See Inherited ten- 
dencies. 
Hereditary scholarship of Brahmin caste 
of New England, 5, 5. 
Heredity, some qualities not easily ac- 
counted for by, 2, 68; its develop- 
ment, 3, 166 ; hard to hold child ac- 
countable for inherited bad qualities, 
5, 322, 323 ; moral character of, 304 ; 
now discussed, rather than predesti- 
nation, 327 ; certainty of, 344; we rec- 
ognize, 380. See also Automatism; 
Guilt; Responsibility; Sin ; Will. 
Heresy, master of ceremonies of burn- 
ing for, easy to find in any city, 1, 
33; a word fallen into disuse, 2, 118; 
does not sound so dangerous com- 
ing from pretty lips, 6, 163. 
Heretics, 2, 208 ; 5 , 320. 
Hering, Dr., 5, 225 ; 9, 71. 
Heritable guilt, doctrine of, 3, 268. 
Herkomer, Hubert, 10, 80. 
Hero, every one is the, of his baptism, 
wedding, and funeral, 9, 420. 
Heroic treatment of disease, 9, 257. 
Heroic verse, in relation to rhythm of 
respiration, 8, 317. 
Heroic will, the, 2 , 205. 
Heroism of fashionable people, 2, 140 ; 
is gentility, 8, 8. 
Herons, 2, 236. 
Herophilus, 9,177. 
Herring's, " Plenipotentiary," 5, 296; 
10, 6, 33, 40. 
Herring's safes, 9, 288. 
Herschel, his discovery of Georgium 
Sidus, 3, 218 ; his telescope, 219; 10, 
6; apology of, 8, 269. 
Herschell, Lady, 10, 86. 
Herschell, Lord Chancellor, 10, 37, 86. 
Hester Prynne, Hawthorne's, 8, 18. 
Hey's saw, 9, 326. 
Hezekiah's advice, 2, 23. 
Hicks-Beach, Sir Michael, 10, 63. 
Hidden soul, the. See Unconscious 
mental action. 
| Hieta picra, 6, 296. 
| Higginson, Francis, saying of, 2, 250; 
on Massachusetts climate, 9, 322,323 ; 
death of his children, 323. 
Higginson, Mary, the first of the Pil- 
grims to die at sea, 9, 323. 
Higginson, T. W., author of "Saints 
and their Bodies," 1,163 ; his "April 
Days," 8, 139, 143, 183. 
High Church service, responses in, 3. 
128. ' 
Highlands, the, of Scotland, 10, 7. 
Hildanus, Fabricius, 9, 6, 375. 
Hildreth, Richard, son of a clergyman, 
Hill, Ann, her remarkable cure, 9, 36. 
Hill, Pres. Thomas, experiences in wood 
and meadow, 8, 140-142. 
Hillard, G. S., quoted, 8, 249. 
Himrod's asthma cure, 10, 11. 
Hingham boxes, 2, 299. 
Hippocrates, the Oath of, 6,141,142; 9, 
311, 383, 394; first aphorism of, 7, 
172; on the doctrine of medicine, 8, 
233; an " Old School " physician, 236; 
his effect on medical knowledge, 9, 
177; stated case on side of Nature, 
181; his "Aphorisms," 410. 
Hippodamoio, genitive of an honorable 
epithet, 10, 21. 
Hippolytus and Phaedra, picture of, in 
the Luxembourg Gallery, 7, 4. 
Hiram, name written on old piece of 
paper, 2, 93; uncouthness of name, 
95. 
Hired-man, the New-England, 5, 134- 
138. 
" Histoire naturelle des b®tes ruminans 
et rongeurs, bipedes et autres," 1, 
59. 
Histology, 9, 353, 422. 
" Historic of the Holy Warre," Fuller's, 
its title-page, 4, 117. 
History, abridged, of two worlds, Num- 
ber Seven's, 4, 117. 
History, why it repeats itself, 8, 379. 
Hoar, Leonard, both doctor and minis- 
ter, 9, 329. 
Hobbes, simile of, on freedom of the 
will, 8, 377. 
Hogarth, 10, 149,151. 
Hodge, Dr. Hugh L., on the non-conta- 
giousness of puerperal fever, 9, 103, 
109, 110, 116, 124, 127, 171. 
Hodges, Dr., 9, 210. 
Holbein, portrait by, of Erasmus, 10, 
127,128. 
Holden Chapel. See Harvard College. 
Holding the tongue, significance of, in 
women, 3, 300. 
Holland, Lady, 10, 41, 57. 
Holland, Sir Henry, 10, 10. 
Hollow beneath a road, 2, 179. 
Holloway and Haggerty, execution of, 
2, 188; 10, 44. 
Hollyhock, 8, 155. 
Holme castle, 10, 103; meaning of 
"holme," 103. 246 
INDEX. 
Holmes, Mr., Queen's Librarian at Wind- 
sor Castle, 10, 48, 147. 
Holmes, Rear Admiral Charles, 10, 4. 
Holmes, Oliver Wendell, steel portrait, 1 
(frontispiece); anecdote of two meet- 
ings with Mrs. Sigourney, 8 n.; his 
mother carried out of Boston during 
the siege, 8,6,26 ; alleged plagiarism, 
of, 45; Phi Beta Kappa poet at Brown, 
52, 53; coincidence in name, 54; one 
string of ancestors of Batavian origin, 
58 ; his father pastor of a church in 
Midway, Ga., 60; Phi Beta Kappa 
poet at Yale, 73; Fourth of July 
orator at Boston, 1863, 78-120; the 
garden, at Cambridge, 147-150 ; quotes 
himself, 156 ; reminiscences of school- 
days, 239-259; meets ghost of boy- 
hood at Andover, 254-259 ; delivers 
Phi Beta Kappa oration at Harvard, 
1870, 260-314; experience of, with a 
dose of ether, 283, 284 ; quotes from 
his poem on Burns, 314 ; delivers vale- 
dictory address at Bellevue hospital, 
1871, 9, 370; quotes from his lecture 
on the medical profession in Massa- 
chusetts, 381; reminiscences of his 
study in Europe and work as professor, 
420-440; studied law for a year, 423; 
first visit to Europe, from 1833 to 
1835, 10, 3; rapid sketch of trip, 
3-8 ; second trip in 1886, 9 ; liable to 
asthma at sea, 10; arrival at Liver- 
pool, 18 ; at Chester, 19, 20 ; at Lon- 
don, 23-37, 40-68; at the Epsom races, 
31-37; admits to a feeling of loneliness 
in the newer generations of authors, 
38, 39; visit to Windsor, 47-50; re- 
ception by Dr. Holmes and party in 
London, 54,55 ; visit to Westminster 
Abbey, 59-62; to House of Commons, 
63-65 ; visit to Tennyson, 68-71; to 
Cambridge, 71-73; second visit, 74-79; 
received degree of Doctor Litt., 75, 76 ; 
first visit to Oxford, 79-82 ; to Edin- 
burgh, 83-85 ; receives degree of 
LL. D. at Edinburgh, 84; second visit 
to Oxford, 86-90; decree of D. C. L. 
at Oxford, 87, 88 ; Stratford-on-Avon, 
90-101; professor at Harvard College 
for thirty-five years, 99; Great Mal- 
vern, 101-105; a week at Bath, 105- 
107 ; Salisbury, 108-132 ; Stonehenge, 
110-115; has read forty poems at meet- 
ings of his class, 111 ; to Brighton, 
132-135; to Carlyle's house in Obel- 
sea, 136-140 ; again in London, 141- 
160; visit to Quaritch's book-shop, 
146-149 ; to British Museum, 151-153; 
to Paris, 161-178; visit to house in 
which he lived as student, 163 ; fare- 
well reception at Liverpool, 180; arri- 
val home, 182. 
Holmes, Oliver Wendell, Jr., the Cap- 
tain in My Hunt after the Captain, 8, 
i., 16-77. 
Holmes house in Cambridge. See Gam- 
brel-roofed house. 
Holy-stoning the quarter-deck, 8, 109. 
Holyoake, Ann, an ancestor of the With- 
ers in The Guardian Angel, burnt 
by Papists, her portrait, 2, 23, 417; 
her influence over the family, 23; vis- 
ion of, 93. 
Holyoke, Dr., 2, 8; 4, 26, 184 ; 8, 134, 
183 ; 9, 283,284, 306, 348. 
Holyrood Palace, 10, 83. 
Home, poets want a, 2, 246; associations 
with, 247 ; lack of permanent homes 
in America, 3, 11; remembrances of. 
10, 113; homes of England, 116 ; few 
such in America, 116 ; safe arrival at. 
182. 
Homer, 3, 47 ; 4, 74, 75; quoted on 
woman's logomachy, 8, 292; had a 
slower respiration than Anacreon, 
319; birthplace, 9, 287. 
Homer, Jonathan, his external resem- 
blance to Voltaire, 3, 15. 
Home-sickness, 8, 245. 
Homesick in Heaven, 3, 32. 
Homesickness, possible hereafter, 10, 
168. 
Homo caudatus, 4, 155. 
Homo unius libri, 4, 140. 
Homoeopathic pills and prescriptions, 
4, 187. 
" Homoeopathic Times," quoted, 9, 419. 
"Homoeopathische Rundschau," quoted, 
9, 415. 
Homoeopathy, 2, 12; Miss Vincent's 
opinion about, in A Mortal Antipathy, 
1, 284 ; 9, 39 et seq.; its hostile atti- 
tude to the medical profession, 39; 
its doctrines as stated by Hahne- 
mann, 42 et seq. ; present condition 
of belief, 48; want of relation be- 
tween these doctrines, 51 ; examina- 
tion of their proofs, 58 et seq.; homoeo- 
pathic treatises and journals, 74; two 
public trials of, 78 et seq.; homoeo- 
pathic literature, 84 ; its present con- 
dition, 85 et seq. ; its probable disap- 
pearance, 98 ; considered as a reac- 
tion, 181, 206; the basis of some of 
its medicines, 187 ; early form of, 9, 
279; long encysted, 301 ; parody of 
mediaeval theology, 391 ; fantastic, 
414; fading out, 415,418,419; pseudo- 
logical insanity, 419 ; a theory of uni- 
versal poisoning, 442; traces of, still 
survive in Europe, 10, 101. 
Homoousians and Homoiousians, 8, 11. 
Hone, fine-grained, 10, 202. 
Honey, impossibility of completely emp- 
tying jug of, 1, 17. 
Honeysuckle, 2, 248. 
Honey wood, Reverend Doctor, in Elsie 
Venner, of strict theology, but of 
broad nature, 5, 61, 62; thinks over 
his sermon on depravity, 233 et seq. ; 
his enlightened sermon preached after 
talk with Old Sophy, 247 ; discusses 
theology and other matters with Dr. 
Kittredge, 313-328; consoles Elsie 
while dying, 452 et seq. INDEX. 
247 
Hood, investment of candidate for de- 
gree at Edinburgh with, 10, 84. 
Hooke, Dr., and law of gravitation, 8,84; 
on number of ideas the mind is capa- 
ble of entertaining, 274. 
Hooper, Bishop, burning of, 1, 33 n. 
Hoosac Tunnel, 1, 25 n. 
Hope, Dr., on heart disease, 8, 230. 
Hope, a terrible thing to take away, 9, 
Hopkins, Ammi, deceased husband of 
Mrs. Hopkins in The Guardian Angel, 
6, 2; some of his sayings, 170. 
Hopkins, Mrs., mother of Gifted Hop- 
kins in The Guardian Angel, 6, 2; 
visits the Rev. Mr. Stoker's study 
with Susan Posey, 152; speaks her 
mind, 167 ; makes her son and Mas- 
ter Gridley ready for their visit to 
city, 295; consents to change of names 
for the twins, 426. 
Hopkins, Gifted, the village poet of 
Oxbow in The Guardian Angel, 6,20; 
an account of the growth of his poeti- 
cal genius, 200 ; experiences remarka- 
ble emotion at sight of Myrtle, 201; 
Master Gridley's practical advice, 203; 
recites his verses to Clement Lindsay, 
228; discovers that he loves Susan 
Posey, 240; consults Master Gridley as 
to publishing his poems, 290; their 
visit to the publisher, 298 et seq.; his 
appearance at Mrs. Ketchum's party, 
318 et seq. ; tells Susan Posey of his 
love and resolves to devote his poetic 
genius to his country in the Civil war, 
386; baptism of their baby Byron Ten- 
nyson Browning Hopkins, 421. 
Hopkins, Mark, baccalaureate sermon 
of, 8, 45, 46. 
Hopkins, Samuel, 2, 16. 
Hopkins, Wealthy Amadora, deceased 
daughter of Mrs. Hopkins, in The 
Guardian Angel, 6, 52. 
Horace, 3, 323 ; quoted, 6, 58, 203 ; 8, 
118, 311, 335 ; his "Ars Poetica," 4, 89. 
Horatiis, M. de, 9, 79. 
Horner, Dr., 9, 121. 
Horse - chestnut trees, 1, 272 ; one at 
Rockport, 289 n.; 10, 190. 
Horse-chestnuts for rheumatism, 9, 368, 
381, 382. 
Horse-mackerel, taken for sea-serpent, 
2, 257. 
Horse-subduer, and hero synonymous, 5, 
150 ; an honorable epithet, 10, 21. 
Horse-trading, 5, 287. 
Horsemen, the best outside of cities are 
country-boys, 5, 149. 
Horses, love of the Autocrat for, 1, 34; 
trotting, not racing, is a republican in- 
stitution, 34 ; race-horses encourage 
gambling, 37; "thoroughbred " should 
not be called " blooded," 37 ; costly 
fodder of saddle-horses, 166: friski- 
ness of, on cool morning, 2, 14; two 
sent to Massachusetts by Admiral 
Coffin, 53; close average of fast time 
in trotters, 166 ; list of official records, 
166 n.; Norman breed, 236; switch- 
tailed kind, 5, 286; pictures of fa- 
mous, 296; look of biting horse, 6, 
160; shrewdness of men who live 
with, 8, 63; health of, 227 ; anecdotes 
of revival of apparently obsolete im- 
pressions in, 300; those at Eaton Hall, 
10, 21, 22 ; at Epsom, 33, 36; pic- 
tures of, 6, 33, 40; figure of white 
horse on hillside at Westbury, Eng- 
land, 108; public horses of Paris not 
comparable to those of London, 163 ; 
of London, 192; England the paradise 
of, 191,192. See also Rarey. 
- famous, viz.: - 
Bard, The, 10, 36, 82. 
Bay Middleton, 10, 33. 
Bend Or, 10, 22, 33. 
Boston, 5, 296. 
Crucifix, 10, 33. 
Dexter, 1, 36 n. ; 2,166 n. 
Don John, 10, 33. 
Eclipse, 1, 34 ; 10, 40. 
Ethan Allen, 2, 166. 
Flora Temple, 1, 36 n.; 2, 166. 
Flying Childers, 10, 40. 
Goldsmith Maid, 2, 166 n. 
Iroquois, 10, 40. 
Lady Suffolk, 1, 36n.; 2, 166; 5, 296. 
Little John, 1, 34. 
Maud S., 1, 36 n.; 2, 166 n. 
Ormonde, 10, 33, 36, 40. 
Peacemaker, 1, 34. 
Plenipotentiary, 1, 34 ; 10, 6, 33, 40. 
Prospect, 1, 34. 
Queen of Trumps, 10, 33. 
Revenge, 1, 34. 
Hospital department of a library, 4,301. 
Hospitals, unjust grounds of judgment 
concerning, 9, 73; great, the true 
centres of medical education, 9, 374 ; 
of Paris, 427^138. 
Hospitality, at Naushon, 1,40 ; is a mat- 
ter of latitude, 302. 
Hot day, phenomena of, 1,302. 
Hot-water bag, indispensable at sea, 10, 
14. 
Hotel, arrival at, 6, 67. 
Hotel clerk, 8, 20, 53, 65; 10, 21. 
Hotel Cluny, Museum of, 10, 170. 
H6tel de 1'Univers et des Etats-Unis, 1, 
126. 
H6tel des Invalides, 9, 427 ; 10, 174. 
HOtel Dieu, 9, 427, 431. 
Hotels: Brady House, Harrisburg, 8, 53; 
Brant House, Harrisburg, 64; Conti- 
nental, Phila., 21, 71; Eutaw, Balti- 
more, 23, 24, 48; Fifth Avenue, N. Y., 
73; Herr House, Jones House, Harris- 
burg, 52,62; U. S. Hotei: at Frederick, 
26, at Harrisburg, 55; Porter's Inn, 
Cambridge, 171; Davenport's Tavern, 
Cambridge, 244; Mansion House, An- 
dover, 254. 
Hottentots, 5, 323; peculiar hair of, 
2, 80. 
Houbraken, print by, 2, 29. 248 
INDEX. 
Houghton, Lord, 10, 44, 59, 185. 
Hour-glass, 4, 100. 
Housatonic River, 1, 244 ; 10, 77. 
House on fire, 2, 158. 
House, gambrel-roofed. See Gambrel- 
roofed house. 
House of Commons, 10, 63-65. 
House-cleaning, 9, 411. 
House-flies, 3, 244 et seq. 
Houses: one at Cambridgeport, built by 
Irishman, with his own hands, 1, 19; 
those with second story projecting, 
127 ; dying out of, 241 ; 7, 22; shape 
themselves to our natures, 242; when 
they become homes. 242; noisiness of 
an old house, 6,333 ; old, in New Eng- 
land, 10, 19; wooden, a better kind 
of wigwam, 20; old, at Tewksbury, 
England, 103. See also Gambrel- 
roofed house. 
Houyhnhnms, as man-tamers, 1, 227; 
10, 192. 
Howard, the philanthropist, temper of, 
8, 35. 
Howe, Dr. 8. G., 9, 352 ; on the mental 
action of the congenitally blind, 8, 269, 
270. 
Howe, Mrs., her Bank of Benevolence, 
10, 172. 
Howell, J., 9, 9. 
Hue's anecdote of Chinese gentlemen, 
2 30. 
Huckleberries, 1, 230, 308 ; 8, 157. 
Hudson River, opening of, for travel ;n 
the spring, 8, 137,138; closing of, the 
official seal of winter, 178. 
Hufeland, 9, 375. 
Hugh of Evesham, 9, 320. 
Hughes, Thomas, 10, 108. 
Hugo, Victor, 10, 186. 
Huldy and Zekle, 10, 49. 
Hulks of enslaved intelligences, 6, 252, 
253. 
Hull, Massachusetts, how a line of Pope 
is quoted there, 1, 128. 
Huma bird, anecdote of, 1, 8. 
Human averages, tolerable steadiness 
of, 3, 221 et seq. 
Human beings, to tell whether one is 
young or old, 2, 57; raised under 
glass, 3, 278. 
Human body. See Body, human. 
Human life. See Lives, human. 
Human nature, apologies for, 3,20 ; per- 
version of its tendencies, 5, 236. 
Human race, future of, 6, 406. 
Humane society in heaven, 4, 257. 
Humanity, America has a different one 
from Europe, 2, 122; comes before 
gentility, 145; tenderness for, 217; 
revival of, 3, 305; virtues of, 306 ; of 
more importance than any belief, 327 ; 
normal state of, 8, 206 ; rights and 
dignity of, 309; tested by theology in 
a scholastic vacuum, 324; laws of, 
379. See also Man. 
Humanizing effect of church-going, 3, 
193. 
Humility, taken for granted as existing 
in every sane being, 8, 310. See also 
Self-abasement. 
Humor, lack of, in philanthropists, 8, 
34; in New England ministers, 409, 
410. 
Humorists, remarkable for their im- 
movable features, 6, 227. 
Hunger, book, 4, 150. 
Hunt, Mr. Holman, 10, 40. 
Hunt, Dr. William, of Philadelphia, 8, 
23. 
Hunter, John, 9, 116, 293, 414. 
Hunting in couples, instructive, 10, 
151. 
Hurlbut, Dr. Fordyce, in The Guardian 
Angel, 6, 5 ; affords relief to Myrtle's 
hysterics, 133; his growing power 
over her character, 135 et seq. ; is 
warned by Master Gridley as to this 
influence, 140 et seq. ; married to Olive 
Eveleth, 419. 
Hurlbut, Dr. James, intemperance of, 
9, 386. 
Hurlbut, Dr. Lemuel, the medical pa- 
triarch of Oxbow Village in The Guar- 
dian Angel, 6, 5, 16; makes a pro- 
fessional visit on Myrtle, 127; his 
death, 419. 
Hurry, vulgar to be in a, 2, 139. 
Husbands, and wives, grow to look alike, 
2, 156; the sort of men women take 
for, 157 ; husband of a woman of genius 
must be a true, not a great man, 290. 
Hutchinson, Mr., on proportion of in- 
spirations and heart-beats, 8, 316. 
Hutchinson, Ann, 3, 224 ; 9, 356. 
Huxley, his definition of thought, 8,262 ; 
on volitions, 303 ; quoted on popular 
ignorance of hygienic laws, 9, 379. 
Hyacinth, 1, 228, 229 ; 10, 18. 
Hyacinth Cottage, residence of Widow 
Rowens, in Elsie Tenner, 5, 295. 
Hyde Park, England, 10, 140, 141. 
Hydrocyanic acid. 9, 264. 
Hydrophobia, 10, 171, 172. 
Hydrostatic paradox of controversy, 1, 
114. 
Hydrosudopathy, 9, 99. 
Hygiene, 8, 186-238 ; necessity of favor- 
able hygienic conditions in disease, 9, 
203. 
Hygienic map, 9, 296. 
Hygrodeik, 6, 157. 
Hymn, depressing, 6, 80-82; a more in- 
spiriting one, 87. 
Hymn of Trust, 2,282. 
Hyperbola, 2 , 237. 
Hypnotism, 5, 205. 
Hypochondriasis, 5, 170; 8, 397; and 
dyspepsia, 7, 177. 
Hypocrisy of kind-hearted people, 4, 
310. 
Hyrtl, on right-handedness, 8, 268. 
Hysteria and hysterics, 5, 69, 71, 194, 
221, 322 ; 6, 129, 131 et seq. ; valerian 
in, 1, 70; shows reciprocal converti- 
bility of laughter and tears, 90; wo* INDEX. 
249 
men apt to be hysterical when there 
is a young minister round, 6, 171; 
of the intelligence, 286; moral per- 
versions of, 339; the physic-practis- 
ing clergyman's idea of, 9, 358. 
Hysteric ball, 2, 96. 
I Like you and I Love you, 4, 144. 
" I love you," 2,180 ; 5, 472. 
I'm the fellah that tole one day, 1, 296. 
I-My-Self-and-co, 4, 166. 
Ice cream, looked upon with awe, in 
rural places, 5, 113 et seq. 
Iceberg, slight effect of sun on, 2, 288. 
Iced water and ice-cream, English no- 
tions about, 10, 28. 
Ichaboe, a nursery of female loveliness, 
8, 52. 
Iconoclasm, only way to get at truth, 
2, 117. 
Ideal state of society, life dull in, 4, 67. 
Ideas, worthy of repetition, 1, 7 ; rapid 
maturity of, 31; handled as if they 
had three dimensions, 85; difficulty 
of transmission does not imply lack 
of, 2, 25; interpenetration of, better 
than mere courtesy, 36; transplanted, 
3, 146; association of, by their acci- 
dental cohesion rather than by their 
vital affinities, 289; spores of, 8,46; 
association of, 267 ; easy to calculate 
the number of possible, in a lifetime, 
274 ; remembered ones smuggle them- 
selves in as original, 287; novel ones 
must meet the weight of vested opin- 
ions, 325 ; we have only a partial con- 
trol of, 330. 
Identity and resemblance, distinction 
between in Homoeopathy, 9, 69. 
Idiocy, congenital, no disqualification 
for writing poetry, 4, 78. 
Idiosyncrasies, of artists, 3, 102; of 
writers and speakers, 4, 297. 
Idiot, the prize, 4, 112. 
Idiotic area in the brain, 4, 12, 156,166. 
Idolaters, we are all more or less, 8, 308, 
404. 
Idolatry, all but immortal, 9, 367. 
Idols of the market, must be treated as 
stocks and stones by the anthropolo- 
gist, 8, 325. 
Ifs, the, and the Ases, 4, 121, 122. 
Ignorance, men and women who hate to 
admit, 4, 156; often cured by pain, 
8, 306; presumption of, 312 ; science 
the topography of, 9, 211; ignorance 
and knowledge, points of contact 
between, in medicine, 212,237 ; a sol- 
emn and sacred fact, 382 ; reaction of 
the public's, on itself and medicine, 
416; what the ignorant ignorantly 
decide to be, 417. 
Ignorance of what people do not want 
to know, chair to teach, 8, 258. 
Ik Marvel, 4, 133. 
Ill health gives a common character to 
all faces, 8, 249. 
Illative sense, 8, 312. 
Illness. See Disease. 
Imagination, poetic, of two kinds, 1, 
184 ; man in bondage to his, 8, 404; 
less to work on in the New World, 
10, 131. 
Imaginative art and science, distinction 
between, 4, 108, 110. 
Imbeciles, moral, 5, 227, 228; simply 
obey the impulse of their desires, 8, 
333 ; as innocently acting out their 
inherited tendencies as a rattlesnake, 
336; suffer under the gravest of in- 
herited calamities, 337, 344 ; predis- 
posing causes of, 338 ; Drs. Ribot and 
Lucas on, 358. 
Imponderables move the world, 1, 136. 
Impressions, that same thing has hap- 
pened before, 1, 73, 74; enormous 
number of, 2, 58; of childhood, 186- 
189; periods of vivid, and of con- 
tinual coincidences, 8, 17, 18 ; effect 
of a strong one upon the mind, 9, 37, 
first one never to be repeated, 10, 23, 
187. 
Impromptu poems, 1, 17. 
Improvisators, we are all more or less, 
8, 289. 
"In Memoriam," Tennyson's, 6, 223; 
quoted, 8, 432. 
Inborn idiosyncrasies. See Heredity. 
Incapacity, congenital, for life, 9, 200. 
Incendiaries, two, hanged in Boston in 
1836, 8, 351, 352. 
Incendiarism, a specialty of young per- 
sons, 8, 339. 
Incunabula, 9, 400. 
Independence and Union, two bard 
words to spell, 2, 41. 
Independence, American literary, 4, 
233 et seq. 
Index society, 9, 405. 
Indexes, 9, 402-405. 
India, conflict of races in, 1, 66. 
India-rubber, 3, 322. 
Indian corn, beauty of, 8, 168 ; 10, 144. 
Indian Ridge, Andover, beauty of, 8, 
258. 
Indian summer, 6, 164 ; 8, 165, 166. 
Indians, American, caltrops set for, 1, 
295; only a provisional race, 2, 83; 
no individuality in their history, 245 ; 
called " Screeching Indian Divells " 
by our forefathers, 5, 43; afraid of rat- 
tlesnakes, 45; congenitally averse to 
civilization, 317, 318 ; their limitations, 
323; pappooses, 392; place of their 
powwows, 89; not in a condition to 
listen to modern civilization, 8, 326; 
dug up the bones of their ancestors 
when they moved, 361 ; pestilence 
among, 9, 314, 315; at Hatfield, 338. 
Indifference to consequences, next step 
above inclination to crime, 7, 267. 
Individual personality of each one may 
not be the sole tenant of his corpo- 
real frame, 6, 22. 
Individuality, good breeding does not 
overestimate, 2, 140; none in history 250 
INDEX. 
of Indians, 245; is to be maintained, 
5, 254. 
Induced current of thought, 8, 292. 
Induction, false, from genuine facts of 
observation, 9, 186; electrical, 216. 
Inequality, the one thing dreaded by the 
inhabitants of Saturn, 4, 63; of races, 
the corner-stone of the new-born 
(Southern) dispensation, 8, 87. 
Infallible book, an, dangerous to intel- 
lectual virility, 8. 388. 
Infant damnation, Romanists and others 
fear, 8 , 304 n. ; Edwards and Wig- 
glesworth on, 372; Edwards quoted 
on, 393. 
Infants, sinfulness of, 9, 360. 
Infidels, not plenty, 6, 320. 
Infinite and finite, 6, 404. 
Infirmary, for invalid books, 3, 25; the 
master's, 213. 
Infirmity, is sometimes a help to holy 
living and to poetry, 1, 184 ; liable to 
leave injurious effects on the race, 2, 
20. 
Influence, correlative of effluence, 7, 
244. 
Ingleby, Mr., on puerperal fever, 9, 
159, 160, 164. 
Inheritance of the world belongs to the 
phlegmatic people, 3, 41. 
Inherited beliefs stronger with many 
than the evidence of the senses, 8,311; 
persistence of, 422. See also Beliefs. 
Inherited instincts. See Heredity. 
Inherited tendencies. See Heredity. 
Inherited prescriptions, 9, 335, 336. 
Inhibition, centre of, 7, 235, 236, 246; 
cowardice and unsuccessful love, how 
related to, 235. 
Injection, minute, in the study of anat- 
omy, 9, 227. 
Injustice, to the citizen, simple preven- 
tive against, 8, HO. 
Innovations, not natural to the old, 10, 
3. 
Inoculation, introduced in America by 
C. Mather and Z. Boylston, 8, 418; 
for small-pox, 9, 345-347, 362, 363. 
Insane, recollections of the, at McLean 
Asylum, 1, 247 ; bad men should be 
treated as, 5, 228 ; the worst cases 
are those diseases of the moral sense 
not considered as insane, 400. 
Insanity, the logic of an accurate mind 
overtasked, 1, 42 ; great amount of, 
wherever the battle of intelligence is 
fought, 2, 218; not always an unal- 
loyed evil, 6, 73; caused by sudden 
mental shock, 7, 91 ; Miss Vincent's 
notions about, in A Mortal Antipathy, 
161 et seq. ; influence of the moon on, 
8, 212 ; the state of mind at the mo- 
ment of awaking from sleep or from an 
anaesthetic is, 284; many criminals 
come from families tainted by, 338; 
most atrocious crimes committed in a 
state of moral mania, 347 ; literature 
of, 351; not a sufficient reason against 
discipline, 356; called possession, 357. 
See also Imbeciles, moral. 
Insect life disturbed by turning a stone, 
1, 112. 
Instantaneous photographs, 8, 124. 
Instinct, more divine than reason, 2, 
241 ; position of, with reference to the 
criminal, 8, 322, 323, 336, 337 ; still 
moves as it did in Cain, 357 ; humble 
accuracy of, 9, 37 ; our knowledge 
concerning, still in its infancy, 247. 
Instincts, mystery of the permitted 
crushing out of, 1, 304; theory that 
all childish, are wrong, 6, 30 ; have a 
basis beyond the reach of will, 8, 261; 
the great spring of human action, 332. 
Insurance offices, how they might make 
money, 4, 184. 
Intellect, average, of five hundred per- 
sons not very high, 1, 140; circles 
drawn about, 266; in a woman should 
travel to lips through the heart, 2, 
147; no fusion of, likely, 297; varieties 
of, 3, 43 ; our knowledge concerning 
the, still in its infancy, 9, 247; in 
training, 376; pretentious claims of, 
376. See also Brain ; Mind. 
Intellectual bankruptcy, cant or slang 
the blank checks of, 1, 256. 
Intellectual invalids, 3, 17. 
Intellectual irritation produced by rub- 
bing against other people's prejudices, 
3, 6. 
Intellectual life of race gains nothing 
from unquestioning minds, 3, 270. 
Intellectual man, his composition, 1, 62. 
Intellectual myopes, 8, 268. 
Intellectual opium-eating, 3, 99. 
Intellectual over-feeding, 4, 148. 
Intellectual productions not in the cat- 
egory of force as defined by physicists, 
8, 293. 
Intelligence, general diffusion of, 3, 302. 
Intemperance, should be met with 
proper weapons, 1, 188; the habit is 
oftenest a punishment, 190; more 
common to poets and artists, be- 
cause body and mind have previously 
flagged, 191; lassitude, languor, and 
vacuity of mind precede, 192 ; in a 
doctor partakes of homicide, 9, 386. 
See also Intoxication. 
Intercommunication, perpetual, effects 
of, 8, 7. 
Interests, incompatibility of, a sufficient 
warrant for social separation, 7, 299. 
Intermittent, poetical, 1, 248. 
Intermittent fever. See Malaria. 
Interpenetration of ideas, better than 
mere courtesy, on, 2, 36. 
Interrupted literary work, supposed 
case of, 3, 8. 
Interviewing one's self, 3, 1. 
Intoning prayers, by anti-papal clergy- 
men, 5, 314. 
Intoxication : one may become intoxi- 
cated with music, poetry, or love, 1, 
189; some forms of alcoholic exalta- INDEX. 
251 
tion apparently a benefit, 189; as a 
recreation among the inhabitants of 
Saturn, 4, 65; offers to the weak brain 
a Brahma's heaven, 8, 222 ; effect of, 
on memory, 296, 297 ; cause of crime, 
339, 340. 
Invalid vampires, 4, 183. 
Invalides, HOtel des, 9, 429; 10, 174; 
dome of, 4, 308. 
Invalidism, certain persons born to, 8, 
204; the normal state of many organi- 
zations, 9, 200. 
Invalids, intellectual, 3, 17 ; occupation 
of, 6, 75. 
Inventions, recent, anticipated in the 
human body, 3, 322. 
Inventive power the divinest of facul- 
ties, 1, 238. 
Investigations, psychological, 4, 16. 
Invincible ignorance, Catholic doctrine 
of, 5, 456. 
Invita Minervd, 4, 314. 
Invitations to author, in England, 10, 
24, 58 ; issued by him in London, 55. 
Involuntary actions. See Automatism; 
Unconscious mental action. 
Io, 5, 169. 
Ipecacuanha, 9 361, 387. 
Iphigenia and Cymon, 4, 285. 
" Ira furor brevis est," 8, 335. 
Isomerism, 9, 216. 
Isomorphism, 9, 216. 
Ireson, Floyd, 3, 323. 
Iris, 1, 71. 
Iris, character in The Professor, daugh- 
ter of the Latin tutor, a description 
of, 2, 54; her story told by the Pro- 
fessor, 60-73 ; John's summary of her 
character, 169; her drawing-book, 
173; the Marylander tells his love to 
her, 315. 
Iris, her Book, 2, 226. 
Irish giant, the, 10, 67, 68. 
Irish servant, good manners of, 2, 143. 
Irish system of prison reform, 8, 353, 
354. 
Irishman's house at Cambridgeport built 
by himself, 1,19. 
Irishmen, regiment of gallant, 8, 11. 
Iroquois, winner of Derby, 10, 40. 
Irving, Edward, 3, 183. 
Irving, Henry, at Lyceum, 10, 30. 
Irving, Washington, 4, 278 ; 7, 5 ; quo- 
tation from, regarding New York 
streets, 3, 324; his emotions on see- 
ing Mr. Roscoe, 10, 52. 
Island, The. See Naushon. 
Isopodic societies, 4, 64. 
Isosceles, one of the twins in The Guar- 
dian Angel, 6, 53. 
Issues of to-day, discussion of, proscribed 
within easy remembrance, 8, 326. 
Italy, 2, 245; her attitude toward the 
North in Civil war, 8, 100. 
Itch, 9, 45, 49, 57, 82. 
Itch-insect, 9, 289. 
Ithuriel, 1, 189. 
Itinerary, motive for, 10, 184. 
" Ivanhoe," 6, 247 : regarded as a sin- 
ful work by Deacon Rumrill in The 
Guardian Angel, 376. 
Jackson, Andrew, predicts the revolu- 
tion caused by slavery, 8, 85; a hater 
of secession, 96 ; oath of, 115. 
Jackson, Dr. Janies, 9, 303-311, 351, 
438, 441; 10, 197; carried two 
watches, 308, 387. 
Jackson, James, Jr., 9, 425. 
Jackson, John B. S., 9, 351. 
Jackson, Dr. Samuel, 9, 145, 146, 164. 
Jacob's ladder of poetic fame, 6, 204. 
Jacquemier, a disbeliever in the conta- 
giousness of puerperal fever, 9, 123. 
Jacques, Frere, 9, 366. 
Jahr's Manual, 9, 48. 
James I., King of England, 7, 236 ; 9, 
9 ; his fear of a naked sword, 5, 222. 
James, Henry, 10, 66. 
James, William, 4, 166. 
Janin, Jules, 4, 42. 
Janson. See Jenson. 
January thaw, 8, 178. 
Japanese, the, wrap small-pox patients in 
scarlet, 8, 210; anticipated Europe in 
a rude regional anatomy, 9, 224. 
Japanese exhibition in Boston, 10, 156. 
Japanese figures with points for acu- 
puncture, 3, 121, 122. 
Jaques, Colonel, the cattle-breeder, 5, 
324. 
Jarvis, Charles, 9, 345. 
Jarvot, murderer, 8, 340. 
Jaundice, as a token of affection, 1,133. 
Javelli, Leon, 8, 228. 
Jaw, lower, dislocation of, common 
among the inhabitants of Saturn, 4, 
65. 
Jeddo, moat at, 2, 11. 
Jefferson, Thomas, 4, 233; foresaw the 
danger of slavery, 8, 85. 
Jeffries, Dr. John, 9, 349; on poisoning 
from eating partridges, 8, 219. 
Jenkins, Henry, 4, 26. 
Jenkins, Mr. Livingston, in The Guar- 
dian Angel, 6, 276; praises Myrtle, 
284. 
Jenks, Dr., on Scott's indebtedness to 
Matthew Henry, 8, 385. 
Jenner, 9, 94, 96, 97, 116. 
Jenson, Nicholas, 6, 370. 
Jerky minds, 1, 6. 
Jerusalem governs Massachusetts, 8, 
310. 
Jerusalem chamber, 10, 30. 
Jettatura. See Evil eye. 
Jewelry, a mother's, 2, 99. 
Jewett, C. C., 9, 416. 
Jews, fable of their sweating gold, 2, 
163 ; prejudice against, 4, 193 et seq. ; 
their estimate of the Christ, 8, 47; 
their horror of the New Testament, 47. 
Jews-harp, 6, 208. 
Jockeying in literature, 1, 37. 
Joe, a handsome Marylander, in The 
Protestor, 2, 51. 252 
INDEX. 
Joerg, Professor, 9, 64. 
John, St., Gospel of, quoted, 9, 381. 
John and Thomas, their dialogue as six 
persons, 1, 53. 
John de Ketam. See Ketham. 
John of Gaddesden, attends the son of 
Edward II. in small-pox, 8, 210. 
John, the young fellow called, in The 
Autocrat and The Professor, his il- 
logical appropriation of peaches, 1, 
54 ; his tremendous conviction about 
smoking, 73; surmise as to age of a 
pie in boarding - house, 79 ; circu- 
lates puns and conundrums, 251 ; eats 
mourning fruit in memory of School- 
mistress, 307 ; presents wedding flow- 
ers, 312 ; invites the Professor to his 
room, 2, 165 ; his fight with the Koh- 
i-noor, 279; his wife and baby, 316. 
"John Buncle," 10, 182. 
Johnny, That Boy's friend, in The Poet, 
his first appearance, 3, 281; his family 
history, 283. 
Johns, the three, personalities to be con- 
sidered in one individual, 1, 53. 
Johnson, Edward, on the health of the 
Pilgrims, 9, 322. 
Johnson, Samuel: his use of adjectives, 
1, 85 ; disappointed because one of his 
pamphlets was unattacked, 114; put 
beginning of life's decline at thirty- 
five, 151; a superstitious weakness of, 
205; and the poor young woman, 280; 
his estimate of scientists, 3, 263; what 
he might say on receiving a cable- 
gram, 264; his reference to Franklin, 
265; his indebtedness to Morhof, 4. 
160 ; carried to Queen Anne, 205 ; 9, 
3; date of his birth and death, 7, 20; 
bond of relationship between him and 
the author, 21, 22 ; quoted on reading, 
8, 270; dream of contest of wit of, 
282; on the doctrine of necessity, 302; 
on free will, 377; and the orange-peel, 
9, 308; quoted, 10, 80; definition of 
word "hood," 84; his harsh opinions 
about Americans, 138; Coleridge on 
his bow-wow manner, 139; statue in 
St. Paul's, 150; places in London iden- 
tified with, 154; Boswell's "Life" 
dear to all, 154; portrait, 196. 
Johnston elm in Rhode Island, 1, 233. 
Joke-blindness, 3, 247. 
Jokes, old, in travelling, 1, 278. 
Jones, E. Burne, 10, 67. 
Jones, Herbert, of Monmouth, 5, 224. 
Jonson, Ben, epitaph by, 10, 59, 119, 
120. 
Jordan, Sarah, afterwards wife of Col- 
onel Sprowle, in Elsie Venner, 5, 82. 
Jordan, Te.kel, in Elsie Venner, 6, 82. 
" Jordan," the hymn, 6, 87. 
Jouffroy, 10, 166 et seq. 
Jourdain, M., 4, 77, 78 ; 8,122, 425. 
Jowett, Dean, 10, 86, 89, 90. 
Judaea seems to have a yearning for 
New England, 8, 310. 
Judas, Leonardo's picture of, 2, 229. 
Judgment, standard of, 1, 14. 
Judgments, hasty, regarding facts not 
within every-day experience, 7, 33. 
Judicial intellects, achromatic, 8, 268. 
Jukes family, 8, 343. 
July, Fourth of, 10, 94. 
June, beauties ot morning in, 1, 170; 
of 1859, 6, 84 ; beauty of night in, 88; 
a shawl on her shoulders and a cold 
in her head, 8, 150; Seventeenth of, 
why memorable, 10, 75. 
Justice, a rare virtue, 2, 149 ; respect of 
good man for, 150; human conception 
of, 3, 270; has a technical meaning 
when applied to the Supreme Being, 
8, 304 ; and law, 324 ; the fourth per- 
son in Jonathan Edwards's quaternity, 
368, 395. 
Juvenile poems, 1, 18. 
Kaimes, Lord, attacked by Edwards, 8, 
381. 
Kane, Dr., use of coffee and tea in his 
expedition, 8, 225. 
Kant, his idea of time and space, 1, 
266; on the will, 8 , 377, 378; satir- 
ized by Julius Muller, 377. 
Karoli, Count, the Austrian ambassador 
to England, 10, 51. 
Karr, Alphonse, 7, 137. 
Katydid, 8, 158. 
Keats, 1, 184; 6, 203 ; his " Lamia," 2, 
163 ; 5, x., 213, 220, 225; his " Endy- 
mion," 3, 306 ; his " Grecian Urn," 
4 302. 
Keble's "Christian Year," 1, 311. 
Keeley's motor, 10, 28. 
Keller, Helen, 4, 140 et seq. 
Kellogg, Clara Louise, 10, 181. 
Kellogg, Elijah, 3, 15. 
Kennebec River, opening of, in the 
spring, 8, 138. 
Kensal Green cemetery, 10, 179. 
Kensington Palace, 10, 56, 187. 
Keren-Happuch, 6, 263. 
Ketam. See Ketham. 
Ketchum, Mrs. Clymer, in The Guar- 
dian Angel, 6, 36, 268; calls on 
Myrtle, 284; her party, 309 et seq. 
Ketham, Johannes de, 6, 141; 9, 411, 
433. 
Keys to the feelings, 1, 129. 
Kidder, Bishop, and his wife killed by 
falling chimney, 10, 186. 
Kimball, Dr., of Lowell, 9, 266. 
Kindness, pitying, is a bitter sweet, 4, 
191. 
King, Dr., on puerperal fever, 9, 140. 
King's Chapel, Boston, 10, 132. 
King's College Chapel, Cambridge, 10, 
77. 
King's evil, 4, 205. See Scrofula. 
Kirby's " Wonderful Museum," 4, 17. 
Kirkwood, Maurice, the leading charac- 
ter in A Mortal Antipathy, his soli- 
tary way of living, 7, 54 et seq. ; res- 
cues a student from drowning, 60; 
is invited to attend the meetings of the INDEX. 
253 
Pansophian Society, 73, 118; his con- 
trol over horses, 74, 117, 142; his 
books, 79, 80; paper supposed to be 
written for the Pansophian Society 
by, 96 et seq. ; is interviewed, 154 ; is 
attended by Dr. Butts in a severe ill- 
ness, 202; story of his life, 207 et seq. t 
is rescued by Euthymia Tower from 
death by fire, 270; she visits him 
daily during his convalescence, 277 
et seq. ; becomes her accepted lover, 
282 et seq. 
Kiss, a stolen one meditated, 2, 267; 
memorable ones, 268; Iris, in The 
Professor, kisses the Little Gentle- 
man when he is dying, 302; called 
the twenty-seventh letter of the al- 
phabet, the love labial, the limping 
consonant, which it takes two to 
speak plain, 5, 390. 
Kittredge, Dr., the old physician in 
Elsie Venner, his knowledge of 
women, 5, 98; his advice concerning 
Elsie, 193 et seq.; his library in his 
head, 210; talks with Langdon about 
Elsie, 211 et seq. ; discusses theology 
and other matters with Rev. Dr. Hon- 
eywood, 313-328; his talk with old 
Sophy, 347-354; drives Richard, after 
his assault on Langdon, beyond the 
limits of the State, 377, 378; pre- 
scribes spiritually to Rev. Mr. Fair- 
weather, 401-407; his theory of Elsie's 
life, 445. 
Knee, 8, 123. 
Kneeland, Dr., 9, 210; on the conta- 
giousness of puerperal fever, 9, 122, 
170. 
"Knickerbocker's history," Irving's, 
quotation from, regarding New York 
streets, 3, 324. 
Knife, as an instrument for conveyance 
of food, 2, 142. 
Knights, called " prize-fighters with 
iron pots on their heads," 2, 135; of 
Labor, too unfortunate, 4, 219 et seq. 
Knocking a man down, difficulty of 
carrying out the threat, 2, 279. 
Knot-grass, 2, 235. 
Knopp, Nicholas, 9, 328. 
Knowledge, cannot be confined by pro- 
fessions, 2, 15; its specialization, 3, 
265; its advance, 267; pursuit of, 
difficult, 307 ; some, on every subject, 
impossible, 4, 149; ways of gaining 
knowledge, 152; condensation of, 157 ; 
the best part of our, 9, 211; and ig- 
norance, points of contact between 
in medicine, 212, 237; systematic, 
involves much that is not practical, 9, 
284-291, 372; what is not wanted dies 
out, 373. 
Knox, Robert, groaning in 1850 over the 
battle of Hastings, 8, 357; his " Races 
of Men," 9, 198; 10, 65; asked au- 
thor to breakfast, 10, 6. 
Kob-i-noor, a vulgar character in The 
Professor, who wears a large dia- 
mond (?) pin, 2, 4; his fight with 
John, 279 ; leaves the boarding house 
in disgrace, 311. 
Kolliker, 9, 240. 
Kopp, Dr., 9, 86. 
Kuyper, Jan, 2, 29. 
"L. B.," 2, 9, 20. See also Leah. 
La Berge, de, 9, 441. 
Labor, subdivision of, a triumph of civ- 
ilization, 6, 311. 
Laboring classes, a suggestion for, 3, 
299. 
Laboulaye, a friend to the North in Civil 
war, 8, 99. 
La Bruyfere, a character of, who threw 
his wine into the backgammon-board 
and swallowed the dice, 8, 281. 
Lacenaire, criminal, 8, 341. 
Lachapelle, Madame, 4, 131. 
Ladies, on the streets, leave their virtu- 
ous-indignation countenance at home, 
1, 195 ; of " the quality " preferred, 
2, 136; misuse of word, 144 ; young 
ladies have taken place of young wo- 
men in domestic service in New Eng- 
land, 5, 135 ; grand old, of London 
society, 10, 26-28 ; old English, 106. 
Lady, The, in The Poet, her history, 3, 
54 ; her friendship for Scheherezade, 
85 ; her letter to the Poet, 187 et seq.; 
her acquaintance with the Register of 
Deeds, 196; her growing interest in 
him, 289; this intimacy explained, 
289; her good fortune, 292. 
Lady-boarder, with autograph - book, 
1. 6. 
Lady Suffolk, mare, 5, 296. 
Lady's portrait with sword - thrusts 
through it, 2, 188. 
Laennec, 2, 249 ; on consumptive ten- 
dency of nuns, 8, 2. 
Lake, a, as a refuge and place of rest, 
7, 100, 251. 
Lallemand, on alcohol, 8, 221. 
Lamb, Charles, 7, 33 ; 8, 149. 
Lamb tavern, 3, 344. 
Lambeth, 10, 73. 
"Lamia," Keats's, 2, 163; 5, x., 2, 3, 
220, 225. 
La Monnoye's " Monsieur de laPalisse," 
2, 231. 
Lancaster county, Pennsylvania, fertil- 
ity of, 8, 51. 
Lancet, change in opinion concerning its 
use, 9, 259, 260. 
Land, first sight of, a relief, 10,17. 
Landlady, in The Autocrat, the story of 
her life, 1, 53, 73; the pathos of her 
story, 80; weeps, 107 ; her surprise at 
the Autocrat's love for Schoolmistress, 
304; makes bride-cake, 311; in The 
Professor, 2, 21 ; critical remarks on 
Iris, 97,98; anxiety at the appetites of 
her boarders, 169; on marrying for 
money, 204, 205; tries to quiet the 
Little Gentleman's tongue, 206; as 
seen through a window, 318; in The 254 
INDEX. 
Poet, personal appearance, 3, 37 ; her 
family, 38 ; her fitness for matrimony, 
38, 39 ; fame of her house brought su- 
perior people, 48; her mistake regard- 
ing complementary colors, 140 ; char- 
acter of her conversation, 252 ; prob- 
able characteristics of her deceased 
husband, 253; her reminiscences, 283; 
tells the story of the Lady's good for- 
tune, 290 et seg. 
Landlady's daughter, in The Autocrat, 
pen-portrait of, 1, 16; says "Yes?" 
18 ; plays the accordion, 57, 307; in 
The Professor, is thought to favor the 
company of the Koh-i-noor, but after 
his thrashing by John she discards 
him, 2, 311 ; is to marry a young un- 
dertaker, 312. 
Landon, Letitia, 1, 306. 
Landscape, stillness of, in Indian sum- 
mer, 6, 164; revolving, from railroad 
train, 8, 20; of England and New 
England, 10, 22. 
Lang, Andrew, 10, 67. 
Langdon, Bernard C., the young school- 
master in Elsie Venner, one of the 
" hereditary scholars " of the Brahmin 
class of New England, 5, 7; school- 
master at Pigwacket, 27 ; vanquishes 
Abner Briggs, 37-39 ; first appearance 
at the Apollinean Institute, 49; at 
Colonel Sprowle's party, 103 et seg.; 
plans to protect and help Miss Darley 
in her work, 169 ; his effect upon the 
girls in the Institute, 174-176 ; goes 
up on the mountain, 185 et seg. ; Elsie 
saves him from rattlesnake, 190, 191; 
determines to solve mystery of Elsie, 
204 ; procures some rattlesnakes, 206 
et seg. ; talks with Dr. Kittredge about 
Elsie, 211 et seg.; is armed by doctor 
against Richard Venner, 217 ; feels a 
sense of impending danger, 365-368 ; 
lassoed by Richard, 369, 370 ; his feel- 
ings with reference to Elsie, 396-399 ; 
Elsie asks him to love her, 422, 423; 
visits her just before her death, 446- 
448 ; wins the love of Letty Forrester, 
486-487. 
Langdon, the Reverend Jedediah, grand- 
father of Bernard, in Elsie Venner, 5, 
11. 
Langdon, Samuel, 3, 28. 
Langdon, Wentworth, Esq., father of 
Bernard, in Elsie Venner, 5, 11; typ- 
ical of " slackwater gentry," 11, 13. 
Language, plasticity of spoken, 1, 28; 
the blood of the soul, 2, 41; grows 
out of life, 43 ; compared to a watch 
with hair spring, 43; its ineffective- 
ness at times, 181 ; management of, 
in poetry, 3, 98; its inadequacy for 
expression of spiritual ideas, 183; in- 
exactness of, 217 ; difference in use of 
English, with Americans and English, 
10, 143,144. 
Languor, beliefs and fancies take advan- 
tage of us in hours of, 8, 282. 
Lansdowne House, 10, 29. 
Larch, 5, 141. 
Lark, emotions on neither seeing nor 
hearing, 10, 115 ; on Salisbury Plain, 
191. 
Larned, Miss, story of Josiah Dwight 
quoted from, 8, 410 ; story of Zepha- 
niah Swift quoted, 411, 412. 
Larrey, Baron, 9, 427. 
Larvae, spiritual, Roman Catholics com 
sidered as, 2 , 242. 
Lasso, used by Richard, in Elsie Venner, 
5, 265, 332 et seg., 351. 
Last Blossom, The, 1, 161. 
Last Leaf, The, mentioned, 10, 38. 
Latch-key of consciousness, 4, 10. 
Latent caloric of character, 2, 288. 
Latent consciousness. See Unconscious 
mental action. 
Latham, Dr., 9, 286. 
Latin, familiar language of prescrip- 
tions, 9, 394 ; speech in, at Cambridge, 
England, quoted, 10, 76. 
Latin tutor, mentioned in The Autocrat, 
who wrote eclogues on a hot summer 
in town, 1, 262; the father of Iris, 
in The Professor, his selection of her 
name, 2, 60-62 ; his wife, 63 ; death, 
65. 
Latreille, Pierre Andrd, 3, 240. 
Latter-day Warnings, 1, 24. 
Laudanum, overdose of, 2, 105. 
Laudator temporis acti, 4, 31. 
Laughter turns the machinery of sensi- 
bility, 1, 90. 
Laugh, a grand, elemental, 2, 17; the 
mob-law of the features, 72 ; of a girl, 
138; the epilepsy of the diaphragm, 
8, 19. 
Launching of the ark of Christianity, 
2, 219. 
Law, barbarisms of, 2, 106 ; a coarse 
tool, not a mathematical instrument, 
8, 323 ; attitude of, toward the crim- 
inal, 323, 324, 336, 337; comes to us 
from a set of marauders, 357. 
Law and average - two dominant words 
of our time, 9, 180. 
Lawrence, Abbott, met in London, 10, 
142. 
Laws governing mind and body, 1, 71. 
Lawyers, unsympathetic, 3, 124; half 
learn a thing quicker than members 
of any other profession, 6, 138. 
Lay-sermon, gives the parallax of thought 
and feeling, 2, 7 ; punishment of me- 
chanic for preaching one, 115. 
Layard, 9, 404 ; 10, 28, 152. 
Laycock, Dr., on the possible number of 
ideas in a life-time, 8, 274; anecdote 
of cavalry horses quoted from, 300. 
Layers of habitual thought, 4, 11. 
Layman, the, rights of, out of the pew, 
8, 413 ; right of, to call attention of 
the clergy to errors, 422. 
Lead, the only metal found on the plane* 
Saturn, 4, 62. 
Lead-poisoning, of authorship, 9, 423. INDEX. 
255 
Leah, the witch ancestor of the Little 
Gentleman in The Professor, 2, 261; 
her portrait, 262. See also L. B. 
"Lear" quoted, 10, 14. 
Learned quadrupeds, 8, 91. 
Learning, surest and easiest way of, 9, 
287, 372. 
Leaves, autumn, cause of change in color 
of, 8, 165. 
Leaving a room, difficulty of, 1, 17. 
Lebanon, cedar of, 10,189. 
Lebrun, Charles, figures of, 10, 42. 
Lechmere, Sir Edmund, 10, 105. 
Lechmere, Judge Richard, royalist, his 
house at Cambridge, 10, 105. 
Lechmere's Point, now East Cambridge, 
10,105. 
Lecky, on beliefs and fancies in hours 
of languor, 8, 282. 
Lecture-room literature, 9, 194. 
Lecturers, grooves in their mind, 1, 65; 
get homesick, 142 ; attacks upon, 303. 
Lectures, trials of delivering, 1, 43; fre- 
quently delivered ones the best, 139 ; 
ought to be of common interest, 140 ; 
imaginary report of one, in time of 
Cicero, 157 ; lecturing by literary peo- 
ple, 303; exhaustion of ideas by a 
scholar when lecture is half delivered, 
2, 24; supposed effect of adverse 
criticism of, by Ananias and Shimei, 
120; value of in medicine, compared 
with bedside teaching, 9, 273. 
Lee, Dr., on the Homoeopathic hospital 
at Leipzig, 9, 85, 86; on puerperal 
fever, 104, 140. 
Leech, widow, in Elsie Venner, 5, 107, 
114, 298. 
Leete, Graciana, 9, 334. 
Leete, William, 9, 334, 339. 
Leeuwenhoek, 9, 226. 
Left-handed people, the right half of 
the brain the strongest in, 8, 268. 
Left-handedness, moral, 3, 222. 
Leghorn-straw hat, anecdote of, 1, 177. 
Legs in walking, 1, 72. 
Leibnitz, observation of, 1, 1 ; on un- 
conscious mental action, 8, 276, 278; 
on his " 1'Sne de Buridan," 374, 375 ; 
simile of, of magnetic needle and the 
will, 377 ; on motion, 9, 217. 
Lemaire, Charles, murderer, 8, 341, 
342. 
L'Enclos, Ninon de, 1, 189; 4, 284. 
Leo-Wolf, Dr., 9, 86. 
Leonardo's picture of Judas, 2, 229. 
Leptandra Virginica, 9, 341, 342. 
Le Sage, introduction to " Gil Blas," 
quoted, 1, 199. 
Letter, to aspiring young man, 1,289; to 
the Professor, expressing fear as to 
his opinions, 2, 104; case of lady who 
used only one page in writing a, 204; 
one picked up at Antietam, 8, 42. 
Letters, sent to authors, 1, 69 ; Red re- 
public of, 3, 10. See also Love-let- 
ters. 
Lettsom, Dr., 9, 96. 
Levelling process, 3, 4, 5. 
Leverrier, 8, 84. 
Leviathan. See Great Eastern. 
Lewis, Dr. Winslow, 9, 425, 426. 
Leyden jar, 5, 118. 
Liability of misjudging our fellows, 3, 
255. 
" Liberal " denominations, 8, 421. 
" Liberator, The," 8, 85. 
Liberty, battle for spiritual, 2, 78; often 
a burden on a weak man, 5, 252 ; bust 
of, in The Guardian Angel. 6, 245, 
251; the true mother of the Union, 8, 
80; champion of aggressive, should, 
it is said, reach the same gallows as 
the arch-traitor, 89 ; worth paying for 
as well as fighting for, 111; Sam. Ad- 
ams's words on, 115. 
Liberty to dislike us accorded a certain 
number of people, 3, 333. 
Librarian, the old, in A Mortal Antipa- 
thy, 7, 57, 78, 79, 131. 
Librarian, qualities of a good, 9, 416. 
Libraries, a sort of mental chemist's 
shop, 2, 25; college, fated to burn 
up, 62 ; book infirmary should be at- 
tached to, 3, 25 ; use of, in many fine 
houses, 209; how they should grow, 
211 et seq. ; the Dictator's, 4, 159; its 
hospital department, 301; are tem- 
ples, 9, 396; nests that hatch scholars, 
399; the standing armies of civiliza- 
tion, 406; of scholars, 409; of the 
Old World gradually coming to the 
New, 410; must exercise the largest 
hospitality, 411; every book in, wanted 
by somebody some time, 413. 
Licetus, Fortunius, his " De Mon- 
stris," 5, 232; 9, 280. 
Lichens, eat the names off gravestones, 
8, 46. 
Lie, like a sphere, easy to roll, 1, 116; 
for first real lie woman should be ten- 
derly chloroformed, 270; monument 
to woman struck dead for telling a, 
281. 
Liebig, justifies the use of tea and coffee, 
8, 224; his theory of the production 
of animal heat, 9, 239. 
Life, a tremendous thing, 1, 59; has 
more of humanity than books, 134 ; 
may be analyzed into fifteen periods, 
153; varied experience in, 275 ; hu- 
man, measured by life of tree, 286; a 
great bundle of little things, 2,1; get- 
ting into the pith and core of, 10; 
the truest lives cut with many facets, 
33; only the edge of the ocean of 
existence, 107 ; obstacles in, 179 ; as a 
mighty sculptor, 193; in New Eng- 
land may be lean and impoverished, 
244; better adjusted to wants of men, 
249 ; three wicks to lamp of, 260 ; op- 
portunities in America for large, noble 
life, 284; the dying not in condition 
to judge fairly of, 293; conscious, the 
aim and end of creation, 3, 105 ; full- 
ness of, to the poet, 107 ; chances of, 256 
INDEX. 
better in cities than in towns, 279; its 
accidents confounded with life itself, 
296; the naturalness of clinging to it, 
4,35 ; some people get more than they 
want, 35; the struggle for, 55; a game 
of chess, not of solitaire or checkers, 
65; dullness of, on the planet Saturn, 
65 ; a, petit verre, 292; second or frac- 
tional, of the dead in the living, 6, 
94, 219; life is like backgammon to 
most men, 238; an ideal one, for 
an American, 7, 31; curve of, 84; 
noble only when held cheap by the 
side of honor, 8, 77 ; general facts of 
physical, 197, 207 ; definition of, 201; 
prologue, five acts, and possible after- 
piece of, 313; nothing that a man 
will not do or suffer to save his, 9, 
378, 379. 
Light, necessary to health, 8, 209. 
Likes and dislikes, metaphysics of, 3, 
71; ground of, 333 et seq. 
Lilac, 1, 228, 229 ; 8, 144, 145. 
Lilies, yellow, 6, 88. 
Limbs, human, weight of, 8, 123,124. 
Lime, carbonate of, as prepared by 
Hahnemann for medicine, 9, 44. 
Limitations, human, 5, 321. 
Lincoln, Abraham: his letter of June 
12th, 1883, 8, 109 ; speech of, at Get- 
tysburg, 9, 396. 
Lindens, 10, 189. 
Lindsay, Charles Hazard, infant son of 
Clement and Myrtle Hazard Lindsay, 
in The Guardian Av gel. 6 , 429. 
Lindsay, Clement, in The Guardian An- 
gel, receives letter from Susan Posey, 
6, 96; realizes that he has grown 
away from his early love, 101; rescues 
Myrtle from drowning, 104 et seq. ; 
Master Gridley approves of him, 117 ; 
the story of his mistaken love, 219; 
his artistic nature, 220 ; his visit to 
Susan Posey, 225 et seq.; meets Myr- 
tle for second time at party, 244; re- 
solves to fight down his love for Myr- 
tle by hard work, 249 ; meets Myrtle 
for third time at Mrs. Ketchum's, 
324 ; gives Susan Posey back her free- 
dom, 374; tells Myrtle of his love, 
388 et seq. ; enlists in Civil war, 410 ; 
married to Myrtle, 417 ; makes a bust 
of Master Gridley, 431. 
Line between the eyebrows, 3, 52. 
Lines to a Pretty Little Maid of Mam- 
ma's, 4, 154. 
Links of Forth, 10, 6. 
Linwood, Miss, her needlework, 2, 183. 
Lion, leaden, at Alnwick, 1, 281; 10, 6. 
Liqueur, glass of, after dinner, 10, 207. 
Lisfranc, Dr., 9, 325, 427, 428. 
Listener, a good, 2, 17. 
Liston, thought himself a tragic actor, 
1, 91 ; as Paul Pry, 10, 5. 
Lists of books, 4, 149. 
Literary adviser, confidential, much ex- 
pected of him, 3, 158. 
Literary cannibals. 4, 23. 
Literary celebrity, 7, 139, 140. 
Literary Club, London, 10, 62. 
Literary correspondence, 4, 137 et seq. 
Literary aspirants, difficulties of dealing 
with, 3, 155 et seq. 
Literary independence, American, 4, 
233 et seq. 
Literary people, dangerous for them to 
indulge sense of the ridiculous, 1, 91 ; 
Coleridge advised them to have a pro- 
fession, 179 ; 8, 231; mechanical em- 
ployment a relief to, 1, 180; amiable 
relations between, 2, 75. 
Literary pickpockets, 1, 51. 
Literary police, 3, 152. 
Literary roughs with brass knuckles, 3, 
275,346. 
Literary teapot, 1, 62. 
Literature, "jockeying" in, 1,37; re- 
spect for conventional reputations in, 
38; unripe state of American, 261; 
the contributions of realism to, 4, 
105 ; tendencies in American, 110; 
modern literature and the classics, 
158 ; homoeopathic, 9, 84 ; of the lec- 
ture room, 194; a small matter to the 
struggling world, 10, 93. 
Little Boston, a nickname of the Little 
Gentleman, which see. 
Little Gentleman, a cripple, in The Pro- 
fessor, who actively defends Boston 
and Boston ways, 2, 3,4, 15, 16; mys- 
terious noises in his room, 161; at- 
tempt of Professor to visit his room, 
186 ; his dying hours, 301-306 ; his 
burial-place, 306, 307. 
"Little King Pippin," 2, 231. 
Live folks only dead folks warmed over, 
6, 129. 
Liver, riding good for, 1, 166; and giz- 
zard of chicken never mistaken, 309 ; 
its sugar-making faculty, 9, 238. 
Liverpool, 10, 18, 23, 180. 
Lives. See Life. 
Living, convenience of, in Old World, 
10, 204. 
Living Temple, The, 1, 175. 
Livingston, Edward, quoted, 8, 345. 
Llangollen, Vale of, 10, 186. 
Lloyd, Dr., 9, 438. 
Local influences, how greatly they affect 
the human organization, 3, 277. 
Localism, dwarfing to mind, 2, 87. 
Lochiel rocked in cradle when old, 1, 
82. 
Locke, John, as physician, 9, 343, 344, 
366. 
Locke, William, letter of, in Massachu- 
setts Archives, 9, 338, 339. 
Locker, Frederick, 10, 62, 68. 
Locomotive pedal, 1, 168 n. 
Log, heaving the, compared to noting 
one's progress by friendships, 1, 94. 
Logic, use of, 1, 14; of a restored pa- 
tient, 9, 380, 381. 
Loisne, M., parting of the streams on 
the Alps elaborated by, 8, 46. 
Lombardy poplar, 3, 19 ; 10, 191. INDEX. 
257 
London, a nation of itself, 4, 278; stop- 
ping place of author in, during his sec- 
ond visit to England, 10, 24 ; round of 
social engagements in, 24, 25, 56; 
grand old ladies of London society, 
26-28; professional friends met in, 
27 ; receptions attended, 28, 29, 37, 
43, 54 ; official receptions, 43, 44; din- 
ners, 37, 43, 50, 57, 62, 66, 68; parks, 
140,141; social geography, 141; shops, 
144, 145, 149; Quaritch's bookshop, 
146-149; time needed to study it, 155; 
a place of mysteries, 157; a day's 
activity in, 159; multitude of objects 
of interest, 159; no one person knows 
it, 160 ; return to, 178; author's last 
visitor in, 179 ; weather in, 187; small 
stature of people, 192 ; the gentlemen 
well dressed, 193; clubs, 198. 
" London Morning Post " quoted, 10, 
33. 
Londoness, octogenarian, 10, 26. 
Lonely feeling in midst of new genera- 
tion of authors, 10, 39. 
Long, John St. John, 9, 94, 414. 
Long path, on Boston Common, 1, 277; 
of life, 277, 304, 313. 
Long Tom Coffin, 5, 139. 
Longevity, examples of : Moses, Caleb, 
Henry Jenkins, Thomas Parr, Dr. 
Holyoke, Father Cleveland, Colonel 
Perkins, Lord Lyndhurst, Josiah 
Quincy, Sidney Bartlett, Von Ranke, 
Chevreul, Henry Hastings, Benja- 
min Peirce, James Freeman Clarke, 
B. R. Curtis, George T. Bigelow, 
George T. Davis, 4, 25-29; Gladstone, 
33; Metastasio, Bryant, Longfellow, 
Halleck, Whittier, Tennyson, Brown- 
ing, 41; Madame Saqui, 42 ; Theo- 
phrastus, 190; Mrs. Thrale, 284; Ban- 
croft, 292; prescription for, 183 ; as 
affected by food, alcohol, and tobacco, 
184. 
Longfellow, 1, 2 n. ; 4, 40, 41 ; 7,5 ; his 
"Evangeline," 8, 69; elms at his 
house, 10, 69; his house, 105; bust 
in Westminster Abbey, 60, 205. 
Longford Castle, 10, 116,121,127 ; won- 
derful steel chair at, 128. 
Longings which are like a skulking pro- 
cession ,f bloodless murders, 6, 151. 
Lonsdale, Lady, 10, 46. 
Looking-glasses, none on the planet Sat- 
urn, 4, 64. 
Lord Lovel's grave, 2, 267. 
Lord of the Manor at Naushon (J. M. 
Forbes), 1, 39 n. 
Lorne, Marquis of, 10, 51. 
Lorraine, Claude, 10, 127, 170. 
Lorraine, Mrs. Felix, 6, 55. 
Lothair, Disraeli's, quoted, 8, 275. 
Louis XIV., anecdote of, 3, 185 ; 4,168. 
Louis Napoleon, 9, 215. 
Louis Philippe, 4, 223 ; 10, 1, 161, 177. 
Louis, Dr. Pierre C. A., 9, 220,431-433 ; 
his name a dim legend in Paris, 10, 
164. 
Louise, Princess, 10, 34, 51; garden- 
party by, 56. 
Louvre, Gallery of the, 10, 155, 169, 
170; its danger from mob, 177. 
Love, should be rich and rosy, 1, 43 ; a 
calm, clear mind the best basis for, 
131; intellectual companionship not 
necessary to, 131; first experience of, 
210; all men love all women, 220 ; 5, 
104; at first sight, 1, 221; capacity 
for, is a congenital endowment, 270; 
solubility of, in speech of men and 
women, 271; finally in store for all, 
305; the universal experience, 2, 93; 
women's choice in, 159; at certain age 
ail excitements run to, in women, 160; 
is the one secret most women have to 
tell, 180; indications of, 285; not es- 
sential that all pairs should be " born 
for each other," 286; the flower of 
young love, 4, 147 ; or loves ? 301; art 
of, may be read in Encyclopaedia under 
title Fortification, 5, 181; a second 
consciousness, 274; study of, like that 
of meteorology, 282 ; beneficent effect 
of a second love, 283, 284; women 
know its mecning, 469; and religion, 
paths at fork of the road which every 
maiden travels, 6, 163; first love to 
the young an unprecedented phenom- 
enon, 220 ; works strange transforma- 
tions in young women, 387 ; the real 
world is within to those who love, 
411; the master key that opens the 
gates of fear, 7, 246; unsuccessful, 
how dependent upon the centre of in- 
hibition, 235. 
Love-cure believed in by women, 3, 272. 
Love-labial, a kiss the, 5, 390. 
Love-letters, remarkable sameness in, 4, 
91; those of bigamists and polygamists 
rich in poetical extracts, 92 ; those of 
women, 92. 
Lovering, Professor, 8,183. 
Lovers, as talkers, 3, 95 ; their vocabu- 
lary, 4, 91; explanations bad between, 
6, 230. 
Loving cup presented to the author, 4, 
42. 
Lowe, Mr., quoted on English univer- 
sities, 9, 277. 
Lowell, James Russell, 1, 23 n. ; 7, 5, 
9; 10, 66, 67, 86, 183, 199; son of a 
clergyman, 8, 411; elms at his home, 
10, 69. 
Lowell, John, on blooming of fruit trees, 
8, 145. 
Lower jaw, dislocation of, common 
among the inhabitants of Saturn, 4, 
65. 
Loyalty of English, not understood by 
Americans, 2, 36. 
Lucas, Dr., on moral imbeciles, 8, 358. 
Lucerne, Bridge at, 2, 266. 
Lucretia, 2, 60. 
Lucretius, wicked pleasure spoken of 
by, 8, 178. 
Ludicrous, the, a divine idea, 1, 92. 258 
INDEX. 
Lunatics, " dreadful depravity of," 8, 
311. See also Insanity. 
Luncheon, a convenient affair, 10, 25; 
those attended by author during his 
visit to England : at Mrs. Bloomfield 
Moore's, 28; at Lord Rosebery's, 29; 
at the Derby, 36; at Mrs. Pfeiffer's, 
40; at Lady Camperdown's, 41 ; with 
Mr. Peel, the Speaker of the House of 
Commons, 53 ; at Bishop of Gloucester 
and Bristol's, 54 ; at Mrs. Cyril Flow- 
er's, 56 ; at Newstead Abbey, 57 ; at 
Cambridge, 75, 89. 
Lungs, one wick of the lamp of life, 2, 
260. 
Lunites, 4, 59, 60. 
Lusus naturae, 8, 358. 
Luther, preaches the same gospel as 
Zwiugli, 8, 84; his way of repeating 
Pater Noster, 115; compared with Ve- 
salius, 9, 178. 
Luxembourg gallery, 7, 4. 
Luxor, obelisk of, 10, 1, 176. 
Lycanthropy, 6, 222. 
Lyceum Theatre, London, 10, 30. 
Lying is unprofitable, 1, 117. 
Lynch-law, the result of instinct, 8, 322, 
323 ; Latin motto for, 323. 
Lyndhurst, Lord, 4, 27. 
Lyric conception hits like a bullet, 1, 
98. 
M. S. M. A. = Member of the Society of 
Mutual Admiration, 1, 5. 
Ma'am Allen, nickname for the Koh-i- 
noor in The Professor, 2, 79. 
Macadam, Mrs., 10, 7. 
Macalister, Professor and Mrs. Alexan- 
der, 10, 74, 78. 
Macalister, Dr. Donald, 10, 74, 78. 
Macaulay, on simultaneous intellectual 
movement, 8, 85; mouthable lines of, 
10, 71; quoted about Bath, 107. 
Macaulay-flowers of literature, 1, 13. 
MacCormac, Dr., 9, 297. 
Macdonald, G., epitaph in "David El- 
ginbrod," 8, 167. 
Macedonia's madman, 4, 74. 
Machpelah, Cave of, 3, 331. 
Mackay, Charles, dinner to, on his de- 
parture from America, 1, 222. 
Mackellar, Mrs., 10, 135. 
Mackenzie, Dr. Morell, 10, 198. 
Mackintosh, Sir James, 5, 228; recog- 
nized the ability of Jonathan Ed- 
wards, 8, 362; on Bishop Berkeley, 
9, 11. 
McLane, Robert M., minister to France, 
10, 163. 
McLean Asylum, 1, 247. 
Maconochie, Captain, inventor of the 
Irish system of treatment of crimi- 
nals, 8, 353 ; does not condemn pun- 
ishment as such, 356. 
McShane, Father, priest, in Elsie Ven- 
ner, 5, 251, 252, 259. 
" Madame Blaize," 2, 231. 
' Madame Bovary," 4, 106. 
Madder, artificial, 9, 421. 
Madeira wine, 2, 123; 6, 111. 
Maelzel: his automaton Turk, 2, 16; 4, 
38 ; wooden children of, 8, 122. 
Magdalen College, Oxford, 10, 81; 
great elm at, 82. 
Magendie, 9, 437. 
Magistrates, likely to grow cruel, 8, 
346. 
Magnetism, in iron, 8, 294, 295. 
Magnetism, animal, 6, 133 et seq. 
Magnolia on Cape Aim, 2, 244. 
Mahogany, old, 5, 144. 
Mahomet, Bible of, 8, 88. 
Maiden-hair fern, 5, 46. 
Maidens, pretty English, 10, 124. 
Maine, produces a large proportion of 
our natural nobility, 3, 276 ; amount 
of snow in, in winter, 8, 136. 
Maison d'Or, La, 4,172. 
Maison paternelle, 8, 354. 
Majority, vote of, in spiritual matters, 
5, 253, 407 ; rule of, 9, 207. 
Malaria, in New England, 8, 207 ; 9, 
324; Sir K. Digby's cure for, 354, 
381. 
Malcolm, Capt. Daniel, his grave on 
Copp's Hill, 2, 3, 306. 
Malebranche, 9, 11. 
Mall, the telescope in the, 4, 305. 
Malpighi, 9, 412. 
Malpractice, 9, 417. 
Malvern, abbey church of, 10, 104. 
Mal-vitalization, 9, 295. 
Mal-volition, to rate gravity of, by its 
consequences, is sensational material- 
ism, 8, 305, 306; liabilities incurred by 
a, to be measured on a finite scale, 
306; scale of equivalents between, 
and physical suffering, 306, 307. 
Mammoth Cave, blind fishes in, 9, 373. 
Man, as man, so thought of in America, 
2, 36; a symbol worshipper by 
nature, 117; study of, 3, 183, 184, 
268 ; it needs a new terminology, 307 ; 
natural man, 234; martyrdom of, 4, 
54 ; his warfare with natural forces, 
54 ; a wheel with two spokes, 8, 129 ; 
raised under glass, 206, 208; primitive 
condition of, 212 ; as looked at by Ed- 
wards, 369, 370 ; born with conserva- 
tive or aggressive tendencies, 419; a 
sporting as well as a praying animal, 
10, 6. See also Humanity. 
Man of family, preference for, 1, 20. 
Man of letters, in The Poet, 3, 52 ; his 
air of superiority, 151; leaves the 
boarding house, 202. 
Man of the Monument (Bunker Hill), 
3, 151, 166. 
Man without a soul. See Browne, 
Simon. 
" Man-taming extraordinary " (from 
Houyhnhnm Gazette), 1, 227. 
Mandans, Indians, extirpated by small- 
pox, 9, 315. 
Mangetus, 9, 412. 
Manhood, of American aristocracy, not INDEX. 
259 
sufficiently manifest, 1, 260; occiden- 
tal, based on self-respect, 3, 270 ; ori- 
ental, based on self-abasement, 270; 
8, 309; distribution of, 8, 10, 11; 
time to assert itself, 112. 
Maniere de prince, 10, 35. 
Manifestations, spirit, 6, 24. 
Mankind, two divisions of, 4, 120 et seq. 
Manly art of self-defence. See Boxing. 
Manners, a few points of, taken up, 2, 
139 ; among the highly bred, 140 ; 
vulgar, 142 ; of royalty, 10, 35. 
Mansion-house, in Elsie Venner, 5, 57 ; 
gentry, 102. 
Mantis religiosa, 3, 239. 
Manufacture of poetry, 4, 84 et seq. 
Manuscript reader. See Butcher, The. 
Manuscript is to type what fresh dande- 
lions are to boiled, as to bulk, 6, 291. 
Map, outline of, on wall, 1, 243; sani- 
tary, needed of every State in the 
Union, 3, 280; hygienic, usefulness 
of, 9, 296. 
Maple, 5, 46. 
Marathon, mound at, 10, 195. 
" Marble Faun," Hawthorne's, did not 
suggest Elsie Venner, 5, x. 
Marblehead, people of, like the Phaea- 
cians, 3, 323. 
Marbles, holes for playing, made by 
choir boys in Westminster Abbey, 10, 
61; game of, 93. 
Marcet, Professor, on the influence of 
the moon on weather, 8, 212. 
March, six weeks' sleighing in, 8, 136. 
Marcus Aurelius, a dandy, 1, 259. 
Mare Rubrum, 1, 122. 
Margaret of Scotland, her kissing Alain 
Chartier, 2, 268. 
Marigold, smell of, 1, 76. 
Marjolin, 9, 90, 437. 
Mark Twain, 10, 103. 
Marmontel, 10, 166. 
Marriage, difficulties in the way of, for 
a young man, 2, 170; for money, 
Landlady's opinion of, 204; chances 
for happiness in, 4, 176; is jumping 
overboard, 6, 287. 
Marriage service, vulgar alteration in, 2, 
145. 
Married maid-of-all-work, a wife called 
a, 1, 43. 
Marseilles, the Autocrat once quaran- 
tined at, 1, 180. 
Marsh, Dr., of Wethersfield, wig of, 8, 
407. 
Martha's faith, that of languid thinkers, 
8, 83. 
Martin, Dr., 9, 188. 
Martin, Hannah, school girl, in Elsie 
Venner, 5, 76. 
Martineau, Dr., 10, 197. 
Martyrdom of man, 4, 54. 
Mary, Bloody, was hysterical, 6, 171. 
Mary, Queen of Scots, cabinet of, 4, 16. 
Maryland, scenery and people of, 8, 31, 
32. 
Marylander, the, in The Professor, grad- 
ually becomes the lover of Iris; his 
looks, 2, 45; tells his love, 315. 
Marylanders, two manly specimens of, 
2, 51. 
Mascagni, 9, 411, 423. 
Mascarene, Elizabeth, an ancestor of 
the Venners, in Elsie Venner, 5,145, 
182. 
Mask, a, of no advantage to a writer, 
4, 20. 
Mason, George, on the effects of slavery, 
8,85. 
Mason, Dr. John M., 4, 196. 
Massachusetts, Protest of Province of, 
8, 85 ; would like to colonize Jerusa- 
lem, 310; medical profession in, 9, 
312-369 ; climate of, 320-322. 
Massachusetts General Hospital, 9, 398. 
Massachusetts Hall. See Harvard Col- 
lege. 
Massachusetts Medical Benevolent So- 
ciety, 9, 174. 
Massachusetts Medical Society, Poem 
written for, by author, 1,225; as a rep- 
resentative of the medical profession, 
8, 234; addressed by author, 9, 206- 
208 ; founding of, 349 ; members of, 
398. 
Massasoit, nursed by Edward Winslow, 
9, 189. 
Massey, Edmund, preached against in- 
oculation, 9, 347. 
Master, The, in The Poet, his prejudices, 
3, 6; his originality, 41; his exper- 
iments, 174 et seq.; his library, 210 
et seq. ; his book infirmary, 213; his 
book, 221; his ambition, 262; his physi- 
ological observations, 277 ; his reasons 
for having written books, 319 et seq. ; 
begins to tell the story of his life, and 
to disclose the central fact in the 
Order of Things, 337 et seq. ; is inter- 
rupted by the Landlady, 339. 
Master and servant, 7, 249, 286. 
Master George Gordon. See Byron. 
Mastigophori, the whip-holders, 3, 274. 
Masury, Mr., quoted on art of house- 
painting, 8, 211. 
Match-boxes, coincidence connected 
with, 8, 45 ; luminous, 10, 202. 
Matches, 10, 146. 
Matchless Mitchel. See Mitchel. 
Materia medica, results if it were de- 
stroyed, as now used, 9, 203,444. See 
also Drugs; Medicines. 
Materialist: his conception of the brain, 
8, 262; has worked strange confusion 
in the moral world, 301. 
Maternal instinct, 1, 304. 
Maternity, woman borrows half her 
tenderness from, 8, 91; bed of an- 
guish of, smoothed by anaesthetics, 
238. 
Mathematical ability lacking in many 
strong minds, 3, 104. 
Mathematics tends to breed despotic 
way of thinking, 1, 9, 56. 
Mather, Cotton, his " Magnalia " quoted, 260 
INDEX. 
1, 67,299 ; quoted, 2,115 ; 3,14,327 ; 
on the splenetic maladies in New Eng- 
land, 6,15<>; and the demons of Glou- 
cester, 8, 371; on a person who was 
burned to death, 386; helped to in- 
troduce inoculation for small-pox, 418; 
agency of, in the witchcraft delusion, 
423; on the Indians, 9, 314; medical 
work left in manuscript by, 320; on 
the content of the Pilgrims, 321, 322; 
on sons of C. Chauncy, 329; on Leptan- 
dra Virginica, 341 ; used Spigelius's 
Anatomy, 343; and inoculation for 
small-pox, 346, 347 , 362, 363; letter 
of, on witch-marks, 347; r6sum6 of 
his medical writings, 359-363 ; on origi- 
nal sin, 360 ; slave of, 362, 363. 
Mather, Increase, orders Calef's book to 
be burnt, 2, 8; 8, 414; on comets, 3, 
224 ; agency of, in the witchcraft de- 
lusion, 8, 423. 
Mather, Katharine, 9, 342. 
Mathers, grave of the, 2, 306. 
Mathews, Charles, the elder, 10, 5. 
Matrimonial mesalliances, 1, 215 ; 5,18; 
6 249. 
Matter, Mind and, 8, 262-264; called 
frozen force, 264. 
" Maud," Tennyson's, difficulty of read- 
ing aloud, 8, 318. 
Maupassant, 4, 251. 
Mausoleum, a rich man builds a, and 
calls it a place of entertainment, 8, 
64. 
May, in England, 10, 37, 39. 
May-day, as shrill as a step-mother, 8, 
144. 
Mayerne, Dr., 9, 10. 
Me-Number-One and Me-Number-Two, 
4, 154. 
Mean man, a, 5, 427. 
" Measure for Measure," quoted, 7, 232. 
Meat-pie, inland term for mince pie, 5, 
97. 
Meccas, various, of medical students, 9, 
438, 439. 
Mechanical employment, a relief to lit- 
erary men, 1, 180. 
Mechanical talk of women, 1, 30. 
Mechanism, in thought and morals, 8, 
260-314; that part of mental and 
bodily life independent of volition, 
261. See also Automatism. 
Mecklenburg resolutions, 8, 85. 
Medford rum, 7, 275, 276. 
Mediator, a comfort to humanity, 8, 403. 
Medical accuracy not to be looked for in 
the unprofessional public, 9, 70, 71. 
Medical Christianity, 9, 383. 
Medical delusions, 9, 1 et seg. 
Medical journals, 9, 193. 
Medical libraries, 9, 396-419. 
Medical literature, much in, unfit for 
public reading, 7,177 ; quoted by early 
physicians, 9, 342, 343 ; little, in Mas- 
sachusetts in 18th century, 350 ; low 
ebb of English, in 17th century, 354; 
living and dead, 400. 
Medical mind, American, tendencies ol 
the, 9, 192, 193. 
Medical profession, author's wish to 
meet, in London, 10, 55. 
Medical school, business of, 9, 276. 
Medical society, creed of a, supposed, 2, 
111. 
Medical specialists, 4, 125 et seg. 
Medical students, some suggestions to, 
9, 107 et seg. 
Medical superstitions, 9, 380. 
Medical terms, definition of some, 9, 
196. 
Medicated novels, 3, 26; Elsie Venner 
called one, 5, ix. ; 8, 358. 
Medicine, errors of, 2,11-13; barbarisms 
in. 105 ; ministers' opinion about, 110; 
effect upon the sympathies, 263 ; and 
theology, 7, 81; the honest truth 
about, 8, 233-238; study of, perhaps 
tends to produce disbelief, 414; 
changes in the practice of, 9,175, 256, 
258, 266 ; influenced by the conditions 
of society, 177 ; scholastic and bed- 
side teaching of, 273-311; debt of, to 
chemistry, 274; appropriates every- 
thing of the slightest use to disease, 
289; in Massachusetts, 312-370; state 
of, an index of civilization, 313; great 
names in the Massachusetts profes- 
sion of, 317; two principal schools of, 
in the New World, 318, 319; relation 
between, and theology, 319, 320, 358, 
364-367; specialties in, 352; marrow 
of, 363; materializing influences of 
the practice of, 366; great hospitals, 
true centres of instruction in, 374; 
the community is hopelessly ignorant 
in regard to, 379; the most difficult of 
sciences, 384; reforms in, 435; posi- 
tive and negative facts in, 435, 436. 
See also Disease; Fevers; Galen; 
Hippocrates; Homoeopathy ; Patients ; 
Perkinism; Sympathetic powders; 
Weapon ointment. 
Medicines, mode of preparation of, as 
described by Hahnemann, 9, 42; de- 
mand for, by the public, 186; as tricks 
to make money, 191; those which 
hurt a well man, likely to hurt a sick 
one, 201. See also Drugs; Materia 
medica. 
Mediocrity, genius an insult to, 2, 241; 
often given to a thougnt by publicity, 
3, 344; its pleasure in having its su- 
periors brought within range, 4, 22 ; 
much verse stamped with, 313 ; mag. 
nificent constituency of, 5, 272. 
Medlar-tree, 10, 79. 
"Medusa. Wreck of the," Gericault's, 
10, 16, 170. 
Meerschaum, its process of coloring, 1, 
101; as a relief from trouble, 6, 249. 
Meetinghouse-Hill at Dorchester, 2. 
256. 
Meeting-houses, New England, 5, 61 
62. 
Meetings, mysterious, 2, 56. INDEX. 
261 
Meigs, Dr. Charles D., on the childbed 
fevers, 9, 103, 109, 110, 115, 118, 119, 
121-125, 127, 144, 171. 
Melancholia, Taine quoted on, 8, 397 ; 
caused by religious stimulants, 416. 
Melanchthon, his gentleness, 6, 19. 
Melusina, Elsie Venner compared with, 
5, x. 
Melville, Major, subject of the author's 
The Last Leaf, 7, 8. 
Member of the Haouse, character in The 
Poet, 3, 1; his native place, 7. 
Membrane, nictitating, developed by 
theological students, 7, 81. 
Memorials of places, appropriateness of, 
10, 195. 
Memory, appealed to quickly through 
smell, 1, 75; curiosities of, 3, 219; 
pleasures of, 328 ; pleasures of, to the 
old, 4, 46 ; retentive of evil images, 
109; duration of associated impres- 
sions on the, 8, 275, 276; Pepys on a 
person of wonderful, 276 ; problem of, 
connected with the mechanical rela- 
tion between thought and structure, 
296; is it a material record, 297 ; effect 
of age, disease, a blow, or intoxication 
on, 296, 297; material record of, illus- 
trated by microscopic photography, 
298, 299; much more recorded by, 
than we take cognizance of, 299; re- 
vival of obsolete impressions, 300; rec- 
ord of, often perishes before the organ, 
301; gains by rhythmical association, 
9, 288 ; pleasing task of reviving, 10, 
163, 168. 
Men, self-made, 1, 19; grow sweeter in 
disposition as they mature, 81; like 
pears, 82 ; all men love all women, 
220; 5,104; life adjusted to wants of, 
2, 249 ; those who have eye for horse- 
flesh also have one for women, 5, 287 ; 
those who are far from modest often 
blush easily, 359. 
Men of science. See Science. 
Menagerie, England is one great, 1, 303. 
Mental action. See Mind. 
Mental ballast, 3, 321. 
Mental cud is sometimes lost, 8, 267. 
Mental dynamometer, 8, 276. 
Mental dyspepsia, 4, 148. 
Mental experience differs little in dif- 
ferent people, 4, 10. 
Mental obliquity. See Squinting brain. 
Mental soprano, barytone, and basso, 2, 
37. 
Mental squint. See Squinting brain. 
Mental suffering, danger a counter-irri- 
tant for, 5, 276. 
Menzel, 9, 2. 
Mephistopheles, 5, 176. 
Mercury, use and abase of, 9, 255 ; in 
medicine, 348 ; C. Mather on, 361. 
Mercy, has a technical meaning when 
applied to the Supreme Being, 8, 304. 
Mermaids, 2, 257. 
Merrimack River, 8, 251, 252. 
Merriman, Dr., case of puerperal fever 
occurring in the practice of, 9, 160, 
161. 
Merritt, Mrs., 10, 31. 
Mesalliances, matrimonial, 1, 215; 5, 
18 ; 6, 249. 
Messiah of a new revelation, woman is 
a, 2, 125. 
Metallic taste of articles written at so 
many guineas a sheet, 4, 8. 
Metallic tractors, 9, 15. •* 
Metastasio, 4, 41. 
Metropolis must drain lesser places of 
talent and wealth, 1, 127. 
Mettray, reform schools of, 8, 345 ; Co- 
lonie penitentiaire at, 354. 
Mexican war of not much importance, 
8, 6. 
Michael, Grand Duke of Russia, 10, 47. 
Microcosm, beginning of life in, 2, 257. 
Microscope, achromatic, the impetus 
given by its invention to the study of 
anatomy, 9, 224-228 ; compound, use 
of in medicine, recent, 422; not men- 
tioned when author was a student, 
10, 164. 
Microscopic photography, 8, 298, 299. 
Middle-aged female, in The Autocrat, 
offended at remarks, 1, 30. 
Middletown, Maryland, streets of, 8, 
35; wounded in, 35. 
Midsummer, 2, 225. 
Mignonette, 2, 182. 
Milan cathedral, 6, 260. 
Milburn, Rosa, in Elsie Venner, 5, 76; 
dances with Mr. Langdon, 104 et seq.; 
her beauty, 231. 
Mild may, Mrs., sister of Lady Harcourt, 
10. 28. 
Military men, held in small account in 
Northern States, 1, 260; record of 
young men of social position during 
Civil war proved worthy, 261; have an 
eye for country, 3,105. 
Millionism, green stage of, 1, 308. 
Milkmen, pumplike movement of their 
arms, 2, 156. 
Mill, John Stuart, a friend to the North 
in Civil war, 8, 99 ; suggests that the 
rebellion should not be too easily de- 
feated, 101. 
Millais, Sir John, 10, 57. 
Millennium, not very real, 8, 349, 350. 
Miller, Hugh, 10, 188. 
Millipedes. See Sowbugs. 
Milo of Crotona, 1, 159. 
Milton, compared to a pear, 1, 83; his 
season for writing, 2, 24 ; kisses given 
him, 268 ; his "Paradise Lost," 3, 91, 
92; believed the moon to affect insan- 
ity, 8, 212; quoted, 376,431; memorial 
window to, 10, 205. 
Mince-pie, called meat-pie, in rural 
places, 5, 97. 
Mind: classification of minds, 1,1; jerky 
ones fatiguing, 6; logical, 14 ; a calm, 
clear one best basis for love or friend- 
ship, 131; saturation point of, 133; au- 
tomatic action of, 134; healthy ones 262 
should let lowerfaculties haveexercise, 
181; one with thoughts, compared to 
circus-rider with horses, 2, 38; those 
with skylights, 3, 42; feeders for, 80; 
different ones move like the different 
pieces on a chess - board, 220 ; non- 
clerical, 257 ; as affected by age, 4, 
41 ; the unbalanced mind often fertile 
in suggestions, 96; where during un- 
con^iousness, 6 , 390-392; wretched- 
ness of one subject to the perpetual 
interference of another, 6, 74 ; bewil- 
dered in periods of disturbance, 8, 
78; must have pressure of duties to 
be healthy, 231; mechanism of, 260- 
314 ; and matter, 262-264 ; duality of, 
267, 268 ; resemblance of mental ac- 
tion to vision, 268; relation between 
mental action and space, 264-271; re- 
lation of mental action and time, 272- 
301; slang a sign and cause of mental 
atrophy, 275; duration of associated 
impressions a possible mental dynamo- 
meter, 276; mental action ordinarily 
automatic may be voluntary, 278 ; long 
interval of obscure mental action, in 
old persons, before a question is an- 
swered, 279 ; coefficient of mental ac- 
tion, 293; mental labor attended by an 
increased waste, 294; decay of, with 
age or disease, 296; condition of, un- 
der which horrid crimes are com- 
mitted, 322; qualities of those to 
which the incredible appeals, 9, 29, 
33; distinction between the vulgar 
and superior, 211 ; some are satisfied 
with the decillionth dilution of proof, 
392; argument with certain class of, a 
lever without a fulcrum, 392; 10, 
172. See also Automatism ; Brain; 
Consciousness; Intellect; Memory; 
Thought; Unconscious mental action. 
Mind cure, 10, 172. 
Ministerial veto allowed by Saybrook 
platform, 8, 411. 
Ministers: an old one on inattention in 
audience, 1, 30 ; emotion of an under- 
paid minister at surprise party, 2, 76 ; 
barbarisms among, 106 ; opinions about 
medicine, 110; should be cheerful, 
144; two signs by which it may be 
known if one is on a safe path, 6, 
157; health of. 8 , 397; take on the 
character of the popular lecturer, 
404 ; have furnished the highest type 
of character, 405; work of, not con- 
fined to their professional duties, 405, 
466; influence of, in politics, 406; 
aristocratic dignity of, in New Eng- 
land, 406, 407; were prophets, 407, 
408; humor in, 409, 410; good to 
have ancestors among, 410; famous 
sons of New England, 411; have been 
republicanized, 412 ; usually treated 
with more than respect, 413; intimate 
relations which should exist between 
physicians and, 415, 416 ; a wise one 
at the sick bed, 415 ; not prepared for 
INDEX. 
duties till something is known of bod- 
ily derangements, 417; hard for, to 
preach to unbelievers, harder, to empty 
pews, 418; creed of children of, 421, 
422 ; tried for heresy, 425 ; were often 
doctors, 9, 319, 320, 329, 330. See 
also Clergymen; Preachers ; Priests; 
Pulpit. 
Ministration, genius of, among women, 
2, 274. 
Minnesota, as a health resort, 9, 296. 
Minorities, rule of, 9, 207. 
Minstrels, Ethiopian, 8, 72. 
Mint, engine at the, 1, 32. 
Miracles, we have witnessed, 4, 31; 
said to be wrought by the Roman 
Catholic clergy, 8, 402. 
Misalliance. See Mesalliances. 
Misers, visions of, 3, 255 et seq. 
Misery, that we smile at, 3, 84; of semi- 
provincial fashionable life, 6, 256. 
Misfortune, professional dealers in, 1, 
33. 
Misjudgment, liability to, 3, 255. 
Misprints, 1, 49. 
Misquoting, a privilege of talking, 1,71. 
Missionaries of ablution, 3, 314. 
Mississippi River, 3, 335. 
Missouri, governor of, introduced ordi- 
nance for extinction of slavery, 1863, 
8, 90. 
Missouri River, 3 , 335. 
Mis-spelling of their names very hate- 
ful to people, 4, 311. 
Mistress, The, character in Over the 
Teacups, 4, 45; watchfulness over 
Delilah, 201, 224 ; her interest in the 
" exhibition," 265; her emotion, 268. 
Mitchel, Jonathan, 3, 326. 
Mitchell, Donald Grant, 4, 133. 
Mitchell, John K., 9, 439. 
Mitchell, Weir, expression borrowed 
from, 4, 28; his treatment of nervous 
exhaustion, 184. 
Mitchell's School atlas, poem worked out 
by the aid of, 8, 46. 
Mithra, 3, 326. 
Mitscherlich, 9, 292. 
Mizaldus, quoted, 5, 222. 
Mneme, river of, 10, 167. 
Model of all the Virtues, in The Profes- 
sor, of many but irritating excellen- 
cies, 2, 70; hatred expressed for her 
merits, 101; reasons why not lovable, 
146-149 ; returns to boarding-house, 
314. 
Modern customs, antiquity of many, 3, 
322. 
Modern houses afford no opportunities 
for ghosts, 3, 23. 
Modesty, false, about going to bed, 1, 
208 ; a Christian virtue, 4, 195 et seq. 
Modulated or musical consciousness, 8, 
270, 271. 
Moliere ; his satires on Galenism, 9, 319. 
Mollusk, spawn of, 2 , 257. 
Mompesson, Rev. Mr., and wife, 10, 
186. 263 
INDEX. 
Monadnock, Mount, 3, 345. 
Monarchy, tolerated in an immature 
state, 8, 79. 
Money, the corner-stone of American 
aristocracy, 1, 260 ; its transforming 
effects for good, 260; power of, 2, 
135; nothing earthly lasts so well, 
151; other things besides money-mak- 
ing and money-spending, 8, 112. 
Monks of Mount Athos, 3, 106. 
Monoliths, Egyptian, 4, 102 ; 10, 195. 
See also Obelisks. 
Monro, Dr., 9, 412. 
" Monsieur de la Palisse," of De la Mon- 
noye, 2, 231. 
Monstrosities, subject to laws, 3, 223; 
the Poet's fondness for, 229 ; fright- 
ened the New England fathers, 8, 357 ; 
9, 280. 
Mont Blanc of four score, 4, 27. 
Montaigne, on perturbing medicines, 9, 
339. 
Montefiore, Sir Moses, 4, 199. 
Montesquieu, quoted, 8, 395. 
Montgomery Place, Boston, 10, 136. 
Montmorenci, Constable of France, his 
armor, 10, 123. 
Monuments, Egyptian idea of, 4, 101 ; 
American, 102 ; some which deform our 
public grounds, 104; by "wretched 
widow," 10, 104; commemorating 
the great fire in London, 179 ; to Duke 
of York, 194; to Nelson, 194. See 
also Bunker Hill monument; Wash- 
ington monument. 
Moon, boy's idea of, 2, 109; as seen 
through the telescope by the board- 
ing-house party, 3, 137 et seq. ; life of 
its inhabitants, 4, 59; influence on 
human beings, 8, 211, 212 ; blindness 
caused by, 212. 
Moon-hoax of 1835, 3, 138. 
Moore, Ann, first woman to practise 
medicine in New England, 9, 317. 
Moore, Mrs. Bloomfield, 10, 28. 
Moore, Thomas, 3, 313. 
Mora, an Italian game, conversation 
compared to, 1, 15. 
Moral faculties influenced by poison of 
snakes, 5, 225. 
Moral hospital, a substitute for a plan of 
punishment, 8, 344. 
Moral idiots. See Imbeciles, moral. 
Moral imbeciles. See Imbeciles, moral. 
Mirai impossibilities, 8, 335. 
Moral influences, depressing, the cause 
of disease, 8, 2, 3. 
Moral insanity. See Imbeciles, moral. 
Moral left-handedness, 3, 222. 
Moral nuisances, 8, 90. 
Moral order of things, reason for be- 
lieving in, 3, 221. 
Moral parricide, 4, 248. 
Moral reflections, we often find our own 
anticipated by others, 3 , 325. 
Moral sense, defective, like lack of ear 
for music, 8, 81; may be paralyzed 
by passion, 335; congenital want of, 
shows itself very early, 337 ; zero of, 
341. 
Moral surgery, its brutality, 2, 114. 
Moral teratology, 3, 225. 
Morals, mechanism of, 8, 260-314; ma- 
terialism has wrought strange confu- 
sion in, 301. 
Morbid poisons, 9, 54. 
Morbus Addisonii, 3, 67. 
Mordvinow, Russian admiral, 9, 72. 
Morhof, Dr. Johnson's indebtedness to, 
4, 160. 
Morley, John, on eternal punishment, 
4, 253 ; 8, 384. 
Mormon gospel, 8, 88. 
Morning after a party, 6, 115; 8, 213. 
Morning-glory, 6, 73. 
Morrissey, John, 3, 45. 
Morristown revolt, 8, 102. 
Mortality, degree of, among patients, 
not a fair test of physician's ability, 
9, 73. 
Morton, Thomas, on the water of Massa- 
chusetts, 9, 321; on Dr. Fuller's visit 
to Gov. Endicott, 325. 
Mosaics, broken, dreams like, 4, 68. 
Moses, in remarkably good condition 
for a man of his age, 4 25. 
Mother's Secret, A, 2, 127. 
Mothers, memory of an old man of a 
young mother, 2,183; apron strings of 
American mother made of India rub- 
ber, 285; hardships of, 3, 340 ; their 
virtues ripen late in their children, 4, 
47; their influence, 247 ; a true one 
forbids her babe to be split in halves, 
8, 80. 
Motion, theories of, 9, 217. 
Motives, choice of, 2, 35 n. ; connection 
of, with determination, 8, 329. 
Motley, John Lothrop : poem in his 
honor, 1, 26; his mot on luxuries of 
life, 125; memories of, 7, 14; on the 
attitude of Europe in Civil war, 8, 
98 ; named for his grandfather, 411. 
Motor, Keeley's, 10, 28. 
Motor impulse, time in transmission 
of, along the nerves, 8, 272-276. 
Mount Auburn, first tenant of, 8, 167. 
Mount Holyoke, 5, 42. 
Mount Tom, 5, 42. 
Mountain, The, in Elsie Venner, 5, 41; 
its gloomy influence, 43, 53; Rattle- 
snake ledge, 43, 141; Dudley Venner 
wanders over its sides, 275, 276 ; the 
mountain-slide on, after Elsie's death, 
463-166. 
Mountain-slide, the gradual healing of 
a sorrow compared to new vegetation 
over, 5, 280. 
Mountains, and seashore, comparative 
merits of, 1, 263 ; influence of, 6, 42; 
the dateless pyramids of New Eng- 
land, 8, 256. 
Mourning fruit, 1, 307. 
Mouse, technical term in pugilism, 2, 
280. 
Mouth, a man makes his own, 5, 178. 264 
INDEX. 
Movement, variations in the rapidity of, 
9, 246. 
Moving from a house compared to dy- 
ing, 2, 276. 
Mowing, 6, 261. 
Moxa, 9, 289. 
Mucilage pencil, 10, 202. 
Mueller. See Muller. 
Muffins, English, 10, 201. 
Mug, memory of a bitten, 1, 200. 
Muggletonian sect, 2 , 294. 
Muhleubein, Dr., 9, 74. 
Mulberry mark, 6, 223. 
Mulder, his doctrine regarding protein, 
9, 237. 
Mules, government, serviceableness of, 
8, 32, 33. 
Muliebrity, 1, 216 ; 5, 126. 
Mulier, a pun on, 4, 304. 
Muller, Johannes, followed Hartley, 8, 
378. 
Muller, Julius, on Kant, 8, 377; on 
original sin, 383. 
Muller, Max, 10, 79, 89, 90. 
Munneche, Dr., of Lichtenburg, 9, 77. 
Munroe, Nathaniel, musical powers of, 
8, 171. 
Murderers : their pious frame of mind at 
death, 2, 292; Dumollard, 8, 44, 341, 
356; Jarvot, 340; Lacenaire, 341; Le- 
maire, 341, 342. 
Musa, 1, 249. 
Muscarium, home for house-flies, 3, 
244 et seq. 
Muscles, time of decline of muscular 
powers, 1, 156; rowing gives most 
labor to, 169; important ones, 5, 32 ; 
involuntary action of, 8, 195; action 
of, after death, 201, 202 ; must be ex- 
ercised, 202; contraction of, 9 , 240; 
ciliary muscle, 249; excessive devel- 
opment of, 4, 181. 
Muse of poetry, 1, 99, 249. 
Music, its effect upon emotions and intel- 
lect, 1, 132; the unfathomable mys- 
teries of, 4, 95 ; affectation in the ap- 
parent enthusiasm of many for, 97 ; 
education necessary to understand the 
more complex kinds of, 97; conditions 
into which it may bring a sensitive 
nature, 98; can be translated only by 
music, 98; the Volapiik of spiritual 
being, 99; a moral safety valve, 6, 
341,419 ; depressing sort, 6, 80 ; inde- 
finable, 8,271; no vocal, ispopularthat 
is not written with strict reference to 
the rhythm of respiration, 319 ; those 
with no ear for, should speak carefully 
of, 394. 
Music-baths good for the soul, 4, 97. 
Music-pounding, 3, 62. 
Musical faculty has a little brain of its 
own, 4, 98. 
Musical hullabaloos, 4, 94. 
Musician, the, character in Over the 
Teacups, 4, 52. 
Musicians, strange motions of, 1, 85. 
Musk-deer, 2, 287. 
Musquash Hollow, in The Guardian An- 
gel, 6, 19. 
Mustang, Richard Venner's, in Elsie 
Venner, 6, 158, 162; shot dead by 
Langdon, 370, 380. 
Mustard, largely advertised in England, 
10, 187. 
Mutual admiration, Society of, approval 
of, 1, 2, 4. 
My friend the Poet. See Poet, My friend 
the. 
My hunt after " The Captain," 8,16-77. 
My Lady Bountiful, 2, 231. 
" My three companions," paper received 
by Pausophian Society in A Mortal 
Antipathy, 7, 96. 
Myopes, intellectual, 8, 268. 
Myrtle Street, Boston, discovery of, 1, 
165 ; garden in, 272. 
Mysteries, common everywhere, 2, 257. 
" Mysteries of Udolpho," 6, 275. 
Mysterious Scandinavian, 7, 60-62. 
Mystical remedies, 9, 332, 333, 335. 
Nahant, 1, 265. 
Nahum, a prophecy of, 4, 216. 
Names, uncouth, 2, 95; of civic dignita- 
ries, on walls and tablets, 9, 397; 
magic of, 10, 80. 
Napier, Sir Charles, 7, 222. 
Napier, Dr. R., 9, 354. 
Napkin-ring, the, boundary-mark be- 
tween certain classes, 7, 298. 
Napoleon, consoled the Parisians by 
gilding the dome of the Invalides, 4, 
308; called the English a nation of 
shopkeepers, 8, 10; his power of 
sleeping at any time, 231; Table-talk 
quoted on his control over his mind, 
299; modernizing the political world, 
9, 179; his mind furnished with draw- 
ers, 408; exhumation, 10,96; tomb of, 
173, 174; Barbier's satirical lines on, 
173. 
Narrow church, 2, 298. 
Nasal twang, 5, 128. 
Nash, Beau, 10, 107. 
Nash, Lonson, sees sea-serpent in 1817, 
8, 166, 167. 
National Gallery, London, confused im- 
pressions of, 10, 151. 
National hymn, our, 4, 29. 
National Medical Library at Washing- 
ton, 9, 406. 
National sins, Providence punishes, by 
national calamities, 8, 86. 
National thought and feeling, tidal move- 
ment of, 8, 83, 84. 
National type of humanity, 1, 171. 
Nationality of the Two Annexes, in Over 
the Teacups, 4, 83. 
Natural forces well under control of civ- 
ilization, 3, 271; warfare of man with, 
4, 54. 
Natural man, 3, 234. 
Natural nobility, 3, 276. 
Natural selection, is the conservative 
principle in creation, 2, 19. 265 
Naturalists, have no time for friendships, 
3, 249. 
Nature, is fond of " gift-enterprises," 1, 
55; the amen of, is always a flower, 
229; leaking of, into cities, 273; fer- 
tile in variety, 2, 80; in her mysteri- 
ous moods, 164; makes no leaps, 167 ; 
and grace, 3 , 304; study of, its diffi- 
culties, 3, 307; her anodyne, 4, 30; 
development of the forces of, 31 ; as a 
nurse, 55; supplied the models for the 
pyramid and obelisk, 101; deals wisely 
with the old, 294; pitiless yet pitiful, 
295; grotesques of, 5 , 266; method 
of healing, 320 ; 414; 9, 46; those 
whom she loves, 6, 209; how studied 
by the physician and the theologian, 
7,81 ; hips and elbows and other bones 
of, 8, 74; sanitary commission of, 90 ; 
programme of, in the seasons, 132, 
133; three classes of observers of, 
133; her answer to man's questions, 
158; the end of the show of the sea- 
sons, 184, 185; a word and a blow 
with, when her laws are insulted, 228; 
most trusted physician, 233; course 
of, in dismantling a human counte- 
nance, 249, 250 ; laws of, 262 ; Jona- 
than Edwards's notion of, 392; pro- 
lific and ambidextrous, 420; antici- 
pates the plasterer in flbro-cartilage, 
9, 230, the glass-blower in the forma- 
tion of cells, 233; Sydenham's belief 
concerning, 268; a caricaturist, 10, 
42 ; fond of trios, 138; does not care 
to mend old shoes, 183. 
- and Art, questions between in the 
medical profession, 9, 181; definition 
of the terms, 196. 
Natures, changed by foul surroundings, 
8, 86; defective and ill - balanced, 
most subject to force of habit, 226; a 
good physician, best confessor of ner- 
vous, over-sensitive, 416. 
Naushon island, 1, 39. 
Nautilus, pearly and paper, 1, 97. 
Nautilus, The Chambered, 1, 97. 
Navy Yard, Charlestown, 1, 206; 2, 3. 
Neaera, 1, 105. 
Nebuchadnezzar, 10, 152. 
Nebular theory, 3, 180. 
Necessity, abrogates all rules, 8, 115; 
Dr. Johnson quoted on, 302; one thing 
to prove in terms, and another to ac- 
cept as an article of faith, 303; in 
spite of the logic of argument for, we 
believe ourselves free, 381. See also 
Automatism ; Philosophy; Will. 
Needlework, Miss Linwood's, 2, 183. 
Negative facts, proper interpretation of, 
9, 130. 
Negative veracity, 8, 164. 
Nego quia probatum est, 8, 303. 
Negroes, their passion for ornament, 5, 
201; age of old black women hard 
to tell, 238 ; first regiment of, 1863, 
8, 91; good service of, as soldiers, 
118. 
INDEX. 
Neighbor Walrus, his garden, 2, 248. 
Nelson monument, 10, 194. 
Nerve, olfactory, connection of, with 
brain, 1, 77; of hearing, 4, 98; 8, 
271; that runs to the pocket, 9, 409. 
Nerve centres, torture for the, 3 , 346. 
Nerve fluid. See Nervous system. 
Nerve force. See Nervous system. 
Nerve-playing, artists in, 1, 129. 
Nerve-tapping, 1, 6. 
Nervous system, disturbance of, 7, 83, 
215; 8, 2; anatomy of, 194-196; con- 
nection of thought and emotion with, 
262; time in transmission of sensation 
and motor impulse, 272-276; investi- 
gations regarding, 9 , 241, 246; singu- 
lar relations between electricity and 
nerve force, 246. See also Semilunar 
ganglion. 
Nervous woman, a doctor's knowledge 
of, 5, 98. 
Nervousness, its resemblance to fear, 2, 
255. 
Nest, the world has a million roosts for 
a man, but only one nest, 1, 142. 
Nettle-rash, caused by eating strawber- 
ries, 8, 220. 
Neurin, 9, 284. 
Neutrality, of Great Britain in our Civil 
war, 8, 97 ; there is none for a true 
American in Civil War, 117. 
Nevins, Dr., 10, 18. 
" New American Cyclopaedia," man who 
was well read up in first volume of, 1, 
143. 
New England, women of, 2, 148; large 
number of crazy people in, 217 7 effect 
of its moral atmosphere upon sensitive 
characters, 242 ; life in, has an insuffi- 
cient flavor of humanity, 245; its air 
better than Old England's ale, 250; 
the aristocracy of, 5, 13; seaport 
towns of, 14; Cotton Mather's account 
of splenetic maladies prevailing there, 
6,156 ; climate of, trying, 8, 206, 207 ; 
always had a yearning for Judea, 310 ; 
soil of, does not " laugh when tickled 
with the hoe," 406; dignity of the 
clergy of, 406,407; share of the Math- 
ers in religious history of, 423 ; mala- 
ria in, 9, 324; old houses in, 10, 19; 
landscape of, 22; geological objects 
in, 188. 
"New England Magazine," first efforts 
of The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Ta- 
ble appeared in, 1831-32, 1, vii. 
New Englanders, many of them hard 
and unimaginative, 2 , 245; demoral- 
ized if self-respect is gone, 5, 135 ; 
feel at home in London, 10, 205. See 
also Brahmin caste of New England ; 
Hired-man; Yankee. 
New Hampshire, a queer sort of State, 
5, 134. 
New Haven, 8, 75. 
New Ironsides, 8, 22. 
New Jersey, a double-headed suburb, 
8, 21. 266 
INDEX. 
New Portfolio, The, first opening of, 
7, 1. 
New World, double proportion of oxy- 
gen in its air, 6, 221; vocabulary of 
the, 8, 172; quietly buying many of 
the treasures of the Old, 9,410; keeps 
imagination on scanty diet, 10, 131. 
New York, compared to Venice, 2, 85 ; 
something higher demanded of it, 86; 
streets of, quotation from Knicker- 
bocker's history regarding, 3, 324; 
everybody that lives in, feels that lie 
owns it, 8, 74; Central Park, 74, 75; 
arrival at, from England, 10, 181. 
New York girl and Boston girl, their 
conversation, in The Guardian Angel, 
6, 269. 
" New York Mirror," 7, 4. 
New Yorkers, peculiar pronunciation of, 
2, 142; two, their reminiscences, 3, 
330. 
New Zealander, Macaulay's, 9,410 ; 10, 
94. 
Newbury, doctors of, 9, 326-328. 
Newburyport, 5, 14. 
Newgate calendar, 3, 222, 265. 
Newgate ordinary, 5, 226. 
Newman, John Henry, his " Grammar 
of Assent," 1, 14; quoted on uncon- 
scious or semi-conscious mental ac- 
tion, 8, 276 ; phrase quoted, 312. 
News-boys of Baltimore, wailing tones 
of, 8, 48. 
Newspapers, lying in, 1, 117 ; 8, 89 ; in- 
dispensability of, 8, 1, 6 ; comic, 286. 
Newton, Sir Isaac, his speech about the 
ocean, 1, 84; his mathematical power, 
3, 105; inspiration of, 5, 318; and 
law of gravitation, 8, 84; time-rela- 
tion of the sense of vision illustrated 
by, 275; Swift quoted on, 279; com- 
mentaries of, on the Prophecies, 389 ; 
statue of, 10, 62 ; engraving of, 72. 
Newton, John, 4, 251. 
Niagara, a giant's tongue, 4, 214. 
Niepce, moving in parallel paths with 
other inventors, 8, 84. 
Night, noises in, 2, 163; beauty of, 6, 
88. 
Nightingale, Mr., his collection of 
" china," 10, 116. 
Nightingale, Mrs., Roubiliac's monu- 
ment to, 4, 171; 10, 62, 120. 
Nightingale, Florence, her saying about 
music, 3, 62; quoted on necessity of 
light to health, 8, 209 ; on color in re- 
lation to disease, 211; the noblest 
daughter of the healing art, 9, 181; 
quoted on deterioration in families, 
199 ; her skilful nursing, 299. 
Nightingales, 10, 179. 
Nile, 4, 100. 
Nineveh, 10, 123; sculptures from, 152. ! 
Ninth son of a ninth son, 9, 5. 
" Nishmath Chajim," C. Mather's, 9, 
362, 366. 
Nitrate of silver for epileptics, 2, 105 ; 
8, 190 ; 9,188, 441. I 
। Nitre, 9, 332. 
Nitrogen, its uses on the planet Saturn, 
4, 61, 62, 65 ; supplied by food, not by 
respiration, 8, 216. 
Nobility, natural, 3, 276 ; certain titles 
of, 4, 219, 222; untitled, which has 
the dollar for armorial bearing, 6, 
| 268. 
Nobleman, subterranean palace of, 10, 
158. 
Noises in the night, 2, 163. 
Nolan, Captain, at Balaklava, 2, 251. 
Nonagenarians, well-known examples of, 
4, 26. 
Non-alcoholic drunkenness, 6, 158. 
Noose, a fearful weapon, 6, 332. 
Norman horse, 2, 236. 
Normans, in England, 10, 66. 
North, The, valor of, 8, 10; and South, 
no difference of race in, 10, 36, 102, 
103 ; acquiescence of, 88 ; fanaticism 
of, fixed the dye of slavery, 88; moral 
uprising of, in 1861, 93 ; virtue and 
manhood of, 100; material power of, 
103; Southern estimate of, 107 ; wealth 
of, 112, 113; fighting for existence, 
116. 
" North American Review," 9, 402. 
Northampton, Marquis of, his mansion 
Compton Wynyate, 10, 97. 
Northampton, Mass., elm at, 1, 235 ; 
meadows of, 244; experience of, with 
Jonathan Edwards, 2, 114; 8, 391- 
394 ; natural beauty of, 5, 42. 
Northeasterly winds less disagreeable 
than southeasterly, 10, 39. 
"Northern Magazine," 1, 120. 
Northern mudsills, 8, 107. 
Northerners. See North, The. 
Norton, Charles Eliot, 8, 411; 10, 183, 
185. 
Norwalk, railroad disaster at, in 1853, 
8, 75. 
Norwich, large elms at, 1, 287 ; should 
be called Norridge, 288. 
Nose-ring, 10, 57. 
Nostrum, 9, 336. 
" Notes and Queries," quoted, 1, 282 n.- 
284 n. 
"Nothing to Wear," Butler's poem of, 
8, 351. 
Notoriety, cheap way of acquiring, 4, 
86. 
Notre Dame, Paris, 10, 170. 
Novels, every human being has stuff for 
one in three volumes, 1, 59; first one 
usually drawn from experience, 60 ; 
medicated, 3, 26; 5, ix.; 8, 358; 
fate of, 3, 112; dangers of, 6 , 376; 
"Some experiences of a Novelist," a 
paper, 7, 108. 
Noxious agents, 9, 201, 442. 
Noyes, John B., 8, 57 
Nuisances, moral, 8, 90. 
Number One. See Dictator, the. 
Number Five, character in Over the Tea~ 
cups, 4, 48 ; her tact, 50; her dream, 
55 et seq.; her voice, 78; her treat- INDEX. 
267 
ment of Number Seven, 96; her visit 
to the Professor's laboratory, 144; her 
popularity, 167 ; reads the story of 
the Terrible Clock, 169 et seq. ; dis- 
cusses the two Annexes with the Tu- 
tor, 175; her friends also her lovers, 
238; her readings with the Tutor, 
242, 262; her affections a kind of Gi- 
braltar, 266; growing intimacy of 
Number Five and the Tutor, 284. 
Number Seven, character in Over the 
Teacups, an ingenious man with a 
brain like a tinder box, 4, 14; the 
seventh son of a seventh son, 53; his 
plan for a new social arrangement, 68 ; 
his opinion of poets, 75-79; his plan 
for teaching drawing, 82 ; his opinion 
on music, 94 et seq.; his squinting 
brain, 99; his plan for improving the 
race, 111; his abridged history of two 
worlds, 117; he discourses on cranks, 
161; talks about himself and his hab- 
its, 205 et seq.; a poet who does not 
write poetry, 217 ; his opinion about 
churches, 258; talks of poetry, 279. 
Numerical system of Louis, in medi- 
cine, 9, 432. 
Nuns inclined to consumption, 8, 2. 
Nursery, America a new, for the race, 
2, 83. 
Nutrition, a catalytic process, 9, 240. 
O. T., a boy familiar to the Autocrat's 
childhood, 1, 207. 
Oak : the horizontal direction of its limbs 
indicates supremacy, 1, 232; large one 
at Beverly Farms, 288 n. ; 10, 48; 
a foliated atmospheric crystal, 2, 67 ; 
oaks at Windsor, 10, 48, 189. 
Oath of Hippocrates, the. See Hippo- 
crates. 
Oatmeal or pie as a national food, 4, 
185. 
Obelisks, Egyptian, 3, 149 ; 10, 1, 176 ; 
Nature's anticipation of their form, 
4, 101; building an obelisk, 193; 10, 
195. See also Monoliths. 
Obituary, premature, 4, 135. 
Objective projection of intuitions in 
exalted nervous conditions, 6, 94. 
Obliquity, mental. See Squinting brain. 
Obscure perceptions. See Unconscious 
mental action. 
Observation, different methods of inter- 
preting, 9, 114; false induction from 
genuine facts of, 186. 
Observatory, visit of the boarding-house 
party to, 3, 131 et seq.; description 
of, 133; solemnity of, 134. 
Observer, a mere, too fond of facts, 9, 
384. 
Obsolete impressions, in nervous young 
women, in the dying, and in animals, 
8, 300. 
Obsolete self-determination, 8, 307. 
O'Bvrne, the Irish giant, 10, 67, 68. 
Occasional poems, 4, 269, 270. 
Occasional talkers, 3, 266. 
Occidental, the, manhood of, based on 
self-respect, 3, 270; demands of, 8, 
309. 
Occupation necessary to health, 8, 231. 
Ocean, two men walking by, 1, 83 ; mys- 
tery of, 6, 26; ocean breeze, 77 ; what 
it says to the dweller on its shores, 
7, 97 ef seq.; its sullen indifference, 
251; solitude of, 10, 15. 
Ocean cable literature, 2, 26. 
Octavia on hearing Virgil's verses, 3, 
312. 
October, 8, 162. 
Octogenarian, how to become one, 4, 
181 et seq. 
Octosyllabic verse, fatal facility of, 8, 
316; correspondence of accent in, 
with heart pulsations, 320. 
Odors, memory appealed to quickly 
through, 1, 75 ; power of, in reviving 
old memories, 7, 24, 25; of various 
flowers, effect of, in some cases, 89 ; 
of apples, disagreeable to some per- 
sons, 88, 89; diffusion of, 9, 55; of 
drugs on old doctors, 387. 
" Odyssey," 3, 323. 
Official smile, 8, 67. 
Old age, forty-five is the starting-point 
of, 1, 151; Dr. Johnson held that it 
began at thirty-five, 151; sign of, 
between eyebrows, 152; gentle and 
gradual in its approaches, 153 ; fifty 
is the childhood of, 154; formation of 
habits a mark of, 155; new occupa- 
tions taken up, 159; its effects on beau- 
ties, 160; no giving up because of, 162; 
the disease of old age, 163 ; neglected 
pleasures then in reach, 163 ; boating 
a good exercise for, 163 ; use of specta- 
cles in, 173; the heart should not grow 
cold in, 174 ; an infant's life has the 
character of a first, 2, 66 ; appearance 
of, produced by a few lines in face, 
192; the Professor's paper on, 4, 24 
et seq. ; its tranquillity, 30 ; its cheer- 
fulness, 33 ; its privilege, 34 ; habits 
its crutches, 37; like an opium-dream, 
39; its religious attitude, 45; its mem- 
ories, 46; its charity for the failings of 
others, 46; Wordsworth's picture of, 
in " Matthew," 48 ; its tender melan- 
choly, 192; a pair of spectacles its 
saddle, 295. See also Age ; Longevity. 
Old age of the world, the latest days 
are: the idea to be found in Lord 
Bacon, Roger Bacon, Seneca, Pascal, 
Hobbes, Tennyson, etc., 8 , 287, 288. 
" Old Blue," 4, 31. 
Old Catholics, 8, 407. 
Old Gentleman opposite. See Venera- 
ble Gentleman. 
Old house, fear of, 2, 162. 
Old Ironsides, 8, 96. 
Old Man, theological term for certain 
human qualities, 6, 17. 
Old Man, The, dreams, 1, 68. 
Old men, poetry not dead in, 1, 100; 
distinction between being called an 268 
INDEX. 
old man and the old man, 148; a per- 
son startled when he first hears him- 
self called an old man, 154; first chil- 
dren of, 2, 66; tears of, 4, 30 ; old 
men know the exceptions, young men 
know the rules, 9, 377; on the plat- 
form at public meetings, 411. 
Old people, are monsters to little ones, 
3, 14 ; worth of their reminiscences, 
169 ; their feeling that they have out- 
lived their usefulness, 4, 36; have a 
right to be epicures, 184; nature's 
wise dealings with, 294; do not lose 
their vanity, 295 ; need courtesies, 6, 
18; long interval of obscure mental 
action in, before answering a question, 
279. 
Old Probabilities, no priest could hold 
his own against, 8 , 327. 
Old Song, The, 7, 85. 
Old World, and New, comparison of their 
types of organization, 1, 236; evi- 
dences of the past in, 2, 245; air of, 
good for nothing, 249; its system one 
of intellectual locks and canals, 295; 
convenience of living in, 10, 204. 
Old World folks, American feeling about, 
2, 35 ; seem childlike, 36. 
Olfactory nerve, connection of, with 
brain, 1, 77. 
Oligarchy, tolerated as a convenience in 
an immature state, 8, 79. 
Oliphant, Laurence, 10, 67. 
Oliver, Dr. James, 9, 336,404. 
O'm, sacred word of Hindoo mythology, 
2, 7, 241. 
Omens of childhood, 1, 205. 
Omnibuses, Parisian, 4, 157. 
" One-Hoss-Shay," The Wonderful, 1, 
252. 
One-man system of teaching, 9, 286. 
One, two, and three story intellects, 3, 
43. 
Onion, a communicative vegetable, 8, 
148. 
Open fire-places, 8, 182, 208. 
Opening of the Piano, The, 2, 73. 
Ophidians, cannot move eyelids, 5, 209 ; 
their friendship with human beings, 
220, 224, 397 ; frightful malignity of, 
225. See also Rattlesnakes. 
Opinions, asked for, when praise is 
wanted, 1, 294 ; of more value than 
arguments, 2, 116; if unattacked, be- 
neath contempt, 119; right to hold 
one's own, defended, 123, 124 ; should 
be freely expressed, rarely defended, 
9, 271. 
Opium, 9, 200, 202, 348 ; Dr. Gallup's 
opinion of, 259; in delirium tremens, 
264. 
Opium-dream, old age like, 4, 39. 
" Opium-eater, The," DeQuincey's, 2, 
238. 
Opium-eating, intellectual, 3, 99. 
Opium of the heart, foxglove called, 2, 
261. 
Opposition, success impossible without 
it as fulcrum, 6, 276; spirit of, to 
science, 9, 97 ; a good mordaut, 272. 
Oracle, fine thing to be an, 1 142. 
Orange-juice landscapes, Gilpin's, 1, 
Orator, inspiration of the, 8, 288. 
Orchids, pink, 10, 47. 
Order of Things, the Master's specialty, 
in The Poet, 3, 41. 
Organic tendencies. See Inherited ten- 
dencies. 
Oriental, the, manhood of, based on self- 
abasement, 3, 270; modes of thought 
of, 8, 309. 
Original sin, congenital sinfulness, 6, 
248, 256 et seq. ; we hear little of, 8, 
327 ; Jonathan Edwards on, 372, 382 ; 
Julius Muller and Prof. Fisher on, 
383; C. Mather quoted on, 9, 360. 
See also Automatism ; Heredity ; Im- 
beciles, moral; Responsibility ; Sin. 
Originality, editors anxious to get, 1, 
Orion, nebula of, 2, 78. 
Ormonde, winner of the Derby, 10, 33, 
36 ; picture of, 40. 
Ornaments, personal, as reminders of 
the New' Jerusalem, 3, 295. 
Orthobrachians, 4, 64. 
Osgood, David, 3, 14; 6, 18; carried 
politics into his pulpit, 8, 406 ; anec- 
dote of his parish, 408. 
Osgood, James R., 10, 158. 
Otis, Dr. G. W., 9, 426. 
Otis, James, 2, 15. 
Ottenheimer, Phillip, 8, 47. 
" Our Sumatra correspondence," 1,117. 
Outworks to the citadel of belief, the 
fewer the better, 3, 319. 
Ovarian eggs of future civilization, 1, 
195. 
Overcome Family, their roles in the af- 
fecting scene called the " Surprise 
Party," 2, 76. 
Over-feeding, intellectual, 4, 148. 
Over-medication, 9, 184, 185, 200, 203, 
206. 
Overstatements, occasional, to be treated 
calmly, 1, 51. 
Overvaluation of one's self, 4, 112. 
Owl, 6, 88. 
Oxbow Village, the scene of The Guar- 
dian Angel, 6, 1; war fever in 1861 
in, 385 et seq. 
Oxbow Invincibles, 6 , 385. 
Owen, John, pays a dollar for a red 
pond-lily, 8, 153. 
Oxford, visit to, 10, 79-82; Bodleian li- 
brary, 81; trees in grounds of Magda- 
len, 81,82 ; second visit to, 86-90; de- 
gree conferred by, 87, 88; academic 
dress at, 87; luncheon at All Souls, 
89. 
Oxford Street, London, 10, 145. 
Oxygen, its use on the planet Saturn, 4, 
65; double proportion of, in New 
World air, 6, 221. 
Oysters, fine social distinction between INDEX. 
269 
" shell-oysters," and the pickled va- 
riety, 5, 109; the sad oyster, 8, 159, 
160 ; acceptable on board ship, 10,14. 
Ozymandias, statue of, 10, 117. 
Padded cells for would-be suicides, 1, 
186 
Paddock Elms, 1, 239 ; 8, 163. 
Paddy, liability of using the word before 
Irish gentlemen, 2, 95. 
Paduasoy, 2, 262. 
Paganini, 10, 5. 
Paget, Minnie Stevens, 10, 47. 
Paget, Sir James, 10, 27, 41. 
Pail of water, memory of a white-pine, 
1, 200. 
Pain and disease, the accidents of a 
settled order of things, 5, 320. 
Palaces are artificial caverns, 10, 20, 
48. 
Palais Royal, 10, 174; shops, 175. 
Palate bone, 9, 284. 
Paleness of fighting-boy before contest, 
2, 268. 
Palgrave, Mr., 10, 52. 
Palgrave, Francis Turner, 10, 52. 
" Palladium Spagyricum," P. J. Faber's, 
3,27. 
Palmerston, once a dandy, 1, 259. 
Pancreatic fluid, 9, 238. 
Panem et Circenses, 8, 1. 
Panic silences, 4, 84. 
Panorama, internal, in a spinster's mind, 
6, 347 ; of past life seen when drown- 
ing, 8, 299. 
Pansophian Society, in A Mortal Anti- 
pathy, q, 38, 94 et seq. ; Secretary of, 
etc., 94, 106, 117, 127 ; papers contrib- 
uted to, 96, 108, 133, 166. 
Pantheon, Paris, 10, 165. 
Panther, sea compared to, 1, 264. 
Pantopathists, 8, 234. 
Panvini, Dr., his experiment in a hospi- 
tal at Naples, 9, 78. 
Paolo, Kirkwood's servant, in A Mortal 
Antipathy, called Paul, 7, 50 et seq. 
Papin's digester, 2, 149. 
Pappooses, 5, 392. 
Parable, of Pharisee and Publican, 3, 
335 ; of Eden, 8, 367. 
Parabola, 2, 237 ; the vital, 7, 84. 
Paracelsus, remedies of, 9, 319; was a 
sot, 387 ; introduced the use of mer- 
cury, 443. 
Parallax, of thought given by lay ser- 
mons, 2, 7 ; terrible, between the 
period before thirty and that after 
threescore and ten, 9, 436. 
Parallelisms in animal and vegetable life 
of Old and New World, 1, 237. 
Paralysis, partial, scraping of the toe in, 
8, 127 ; crossed, of sensation, 9, 244. 
Parang, murderer, 8, 340. 
Parasite, South American, 4, 92. 
Pard, Ambroise, 4, 189; 9, 63, 225, 269, 
279, 365,375, 411. 
Parenthesis about the mouth in old age, 
1, 150. 
Paris, dinners at the Trois Freres in, 1, 
78 ; " good Americans when they die 
go to," 125; church of St. Etienne 
du Mont in, 280; hospitals and physi- 
cians of, in 183-, 9, 427^38 ; visit of 
author to, 10, 161-178; in the dead 
season, dull and torpid, 162, 177; 
Place VendSme, 162, 173; visit to 
former haunts, 163, 164, 166; Cafd 
Procope and its frequenters, 166-168; 
pictures in the Louvre, 169,171 ; mu- 
seum of the H6tel Cluny, 170; Notre 
Dame, 170; seen in life's morning and 
in its twilight, 174; restaurants, 174, 
175; Palais Royal shops, 175 ; bridges, 
175; three objects always to be met 
on the Pont Neuf, 175; Champs 
ElystSes, 176; Bois de Boulogne, 176; 
Place de la Concorde, 176; ruins of 
the Tuileries, 177. 
Parish, Elijah, carried politics into his 
pulpit, 8, 406. 
Parishioners, not the property of their 
ministers, 8, 421. 
Parisian omnibuses, 4,157. 
Park, Edwards A., said to have unpub- 
lished manuscripts of Jonathan Ed- 
wards, 8, 428. 
Park, Mungo, 7, 260. 
Park Street church, 2, 11. 
Parker, Theodore, took down the bars 
to new pastures, 8, 420. 
Parkman, Francis, son of a clergyman, 
8, 411. 
Parkman, Dr. Samuel, 9, 210. 
Parks in London, 10, 140,141. 
Parliament, Houses of, 10, 52 et seq. 
Parlors, front, 5, 58. 
Paroxysms, emotional, often the basis of 
religious character, 6, 194. 
Parr, Thomas, 4, 26; 10, 10. 
Parricide, moral, 4, 248. 
Parry, Sir Edward, 9, 176. 
Parson Tirrell's Legacy, 1, 297. 
Parsons, T. W., on election days, 8, 
146. 
Partridge, cause of poisoning, 8, 219, 
220. 
Party, one given by Colonel and Mrs. 
Sprowle, in Elsie Venner, 5, 85-117; 
giving one is a formidable matter, 87; 
is a trial chamber of society, 94; so- 
lemnity at, 108; the morning after, 
118 et seq.; dainties brought away 
from, by guests, 122, 123 ; a London, 
the most formidable thing about it is 
getting away from it, 10,45. See also 
Tea party. 
Pascal, story of, told by Abbd Boileau, 
7, 90, 92 ; quoted on transmissible re- 
sponsibility, 8, 303, 304 ; treated of 
the duties of the Supreme to a depend- 
ent being, 305; parallel between, and 
Jonathan Edwards, 363-366; greatly 
influenced by women, 365; one of the 
noblest sayings of, 369; melancholy 
of, 10, 166. 
Pason, Samuel, 9, 337. 270 
INDEX. 
Passengers, fellow, to Europe, 10, 15. 
Passing bell, 5, 454. 
Passions, power of, 1, 132; secret, 2, 
91; the pale ones the fiercest, 268; 
those which whirl victims to their 
doom, 6, 143; moral sense may be 
paralyzed by, 8, 335. 
Passive cerebration, 3, 316. 
Past, photographs of the, 1, 242, 243; 
effect of the, 2, 246. 
Pasteur, visit to, 10, 171; his patients, 
172. 
Patch, Samuel, 4, 156; 6, 175. 
Patent medicines, 8, 235. See also 
Quack medicines. 
Path, the Long. See Long path. 
Pathological piety, 3, 303. 
Pathology, as part of theological educa- 
tion, 3, 304; of Giles Firmin, 9, 279, 
280. 
Patients, apt to be fools and cowards, 
1, 86; not the property of doctors, 8, 
421; 9, 390; how to obtain, 9, 371; 
shrewd doctor's methods of dealing 
with, 389; good, 390; what they 
rightfully expect of a doctor, 434. 
Patin, Guy, 9, 441. 
Patronizing manner, 6, 243. 
Patti, 10, 46. 
Paul, or Paolo, Kirkwood's servant, in 
A Mortal Antipathy, 7, 56 et seq. 
Paul Veronese, 10, 20. 
Paulus jEgineta, 5 , 222. 
Pavements, healthfulness of, 5 , 303. 
Payne's " Home, Sweet Home," 10, 76, 
96. 
Peabody, George, 10, 205. 
Peaches, dried, 1, 78; hot-house, 10, 
98; their perfection as fruit, 169. 
Peake, the Widow, in Elsie Venner, 5, 
140, 455. 
Pear-tree, moral, 8, 147; high-bred, 
147. 
Pears, men as they mature are like, 1, 
82; city-grown, 5, 303; a cheek hav- 
ing the tinge of a seckel pear, 6, 25. 
Pearson, Eliphalet, 3, 13, 18. 
"Pean de Chagrin," Balzac's, 4, 72; 
9, 373; of State Street, 4, 73. 
Pebble, value of, 1, 84. 
Peckham, Silas, and Mrs., principal and 
matron of the Apollinean Institute, 
in Elsie Venner, 5, 47, 48; at Colo- 
nel Sprowle's party, 92; his nasal 
twang, 128; makes Colonel Sprowle a 
bid for the remnants of evening party, 
131-133; wants to claim Richard's 
dead horse, 379; reluctantly permits 
Helen Darley to visit Elsie, 427-430; 
tries to squeeze down Helen Darley's 
salary, 474-479; has to leave town, 
484. 
Peculiarity, tendency to touch upon an- 
other's, 2, 94. 
Pedal locomotive, 1, 168 n. 
Pediculus melittse, 3, 74, 75. 
Peel, Mr., Speaker of House of Com- 
mons, 10, 52, 53. 
Peine forte et dure of a London recep- 
tion, 10, 45. 
Peirce, Benjamin, 1, 2 n. ; 2, 49 ; 4, 28; 
8, 147 ; 9, 285. 
Peirson, Dr., of Salem, 9, 132, 142, 404. 
Pelvis, deformed, 9, 295. 
Pemberton, the Rev. Eliphalet, the sen. 
ior pastor in The Guardian Angel, 6, 
16; his noble presence and stern creed, 
17 ; announces the return of Myrtle, 
124; receives present of slippers from 
Myrtle, 335; goes to help announce to 
Myrtle the decision of Court in her 
favor, 407 et seq. ; grows young again, 
424. 
Pembroke, Earl of, 10, 110, 123, 125. 
Penance, materialism of doctrine of, 8, 
306, 307. 
Pendulum, Foucault's experiment with, 
10, 165 ; Galileo's conception of, 166. 
Penhallow, Jacob, a lawyer in The Guar- 
dian Angel, takes Mr. William Murray 
Bradshaw into partnership, 6,5 ; Mas- 
ter Gridley gives him important paper 
in regard to Withers estate, which 
Bradshaw had improperly withheld, 
357 et seq. ; announces the decision 
giving the bulk of the Withers estate 
to Myrtle, 412 et seq. 
Pens, stylographic, 4, 298; quill, steel 
and gold, drink too often, 299. 
Pentateuch, first discerning criticism of, 
by Astruc, 8, 417, 418. 
Penzance, 9, 296. 
Peonies, 2, 248. 
People who are too glad to see us, 3, 
334. 
" People's Perennial and Household In- 
quisitor," in A Mortal Antipathy, 7, 
132; correspondent of, 132 et seq. ; his 
interviewing, 132-140; undertakes to 
interview Kirkwood, 144. 
Pepper, astonishing effects of, as re- 
ported in "Our Sumatra Correspon- 
dence," 1, 118. 
Pepys, 8, 276 ; 10, 179. 
Pequawkett Centre, in Elsie Venner, 5, 
22, 23. 
Perceptions, easy to calculate the num- 
ber of possible, in a life-time, 8, 274. 
Perceval, Spencer, 5 , 226. 
Percival, James G., 7, 5. 
Percy, Lord, arm-chair in which he used 
to sit, 2, 188. 
Percy lion at Alnwick, 1, 281; 10, 6. 
Pericles, age of, common motive and 
force in, 8, 84. 
Perier, Madame, her memoir of her 
brother Pascal, 8, 365. 
Peril escaped, makes a great story-teller 
of a common person, 3, 266. 
Periodicals, of greatest use to doctors, 
9, 401; uselessness of, without in- 
dexes, 402-405 ; writer tn, appears, as 
it were, in his shirt-sleeves, 404 ; dan- 
gers of exclusive reading of, 408. 
Periods of disturbance. See Disturb, 
bance. 271 
Periods of vivid impressions. See Im- 
pressions. 
Perkinism, 9, 15 et seq. 
Perkins, Colonel, of Connecticut, 4, 26. 
Perkins, Dr. Benjamin Douglass, 9, 18, 
Perkins, Dr. Elisha, 9, 17 ; 10, 58. 
Permanent homes, lack of, in America, 
3, 11. 
Personal aversions, indulgence in, 3, 333. 
Personal equation, 8, 272; in relation to 
reading poetry, 318 ; moral, 379. 
Personal incidents touch our sensibili- 
ties, 1, 280. 
Personality, of the poet, 3, 109; of the 
writer, impossibility of concealing it, 
4, 20; plural, 166; as many as eight 
personalities said to have existed in 
single female, 6, 22 ; each one's in- 
dividual, may not be sole tenant of 
his corporeal frame, 22; often doubled 
in dreams, 8, 282, 283. 
Peruvian bark, 9, 348, 366. 
Perverse moral choice. See Mal-voli- 
tion. 
Perversity, occasional paroxysms of, 4, 
Peschier, homoeopathist, of Geneva, 9. 
90. 
Pestilence, among the Indians, prob- 
ably small-pox, 9, 315. 
Peter the Great, frightened when an 
infant, 7, 90; overcame his terror at 
the sound of wheels on bridge, 90, 
214. 
Petit, J. L., 9, 437. 
Petit verre, 4, 291, 292 ; 10, 207. 
Petroleum, the light furnished by the 
rocks of Pennsylvania, 1, iv.; Saint, 
gospel of, 3, 40. 
Pbtroleuses, 10, 178. 
Pettenkofer, 9, 413. 
Pettingill, Miss Susy, in Elsie Venner, 
5, 97. 
Petty tyrants, 8, 86, 93. 
Pews and pulpit, relation of, 4, 248. 
Peyer's patches, 9, 238. 
Pfeiffer, Mrs., 10, 40. 
Phacueidoscope, 9, 249. 
Phseacians, resemblance of, to Marble- 
headers of Ireson's day, 3, 323. 
Pharaohs, 6, 222. 
Pharisee and Publican, lesson of parable 
of, 3, 335. 
Pharmacopoeia, of Giles Firmin, 9, 280; 
of the 17th century, 331-333 ; the Col- 
lege, 354. 
Phelps, Mr., American minister to Eng- 
land, 10, 28; introduced the author 
to Prince of Wales, 34; dinners at his 
house in London, 37, 50, 51. 
Phelps, Mrs., 10 51, 57. 
Phi Beta Kappa Society, dinners of the, 
4, 9; Emerson's oration before, 233; 
ribbons of the, 10, 87. 
Philadelphia, main features of, 2, 84; 
approach to, by water, 8, 22 ; the na- 
tives pretend to know one street from 
INDEX. 
another, 50 ; Quaker element in, 70; 
agreeable impressions of the outside 
of, 70, 71; characteristics accounted 
for by geographical position, 71; Up- 
per Ferry Bridge, 71. 
Philanthropist, the, in My Hunt after 
" The Captain," 8, 29-43. 
Philanthropists, practical, 8, 34, 35; hu- 
mor in, 34; hardest task of philoso- 
phers and, 328. 
Philipse house, Yonkers, 5, 144. 
Phillips, hanging of, 2, 3. 
Phillips, Grenville Tudor, curious coin- 
cidence concerning, 4, 18. 
Phillips, Wendell, uses image of The 
Two Streams, 8, 46; masculine Cas- 
sandra, 83. 
Phillips Academy, Andover, reminis- 
cences of, 8, 243-253; revisited in 
1867, 253-259. 
Phillips & Sampson, 7, 9. 
Philomathean Society, banquet at Liv- 
erpool, 10, 180. 
Philosophers, class of, who exhibit a 
small truth bandaged to look large, 
Philosophy, true, and true faith ought 
to be one, 8, 312 ; hardest task of, and 
philanthropy, 328. See also Auto- 
matism ; Brain; Environment; Ideas; 
Intellect; Mind; Necessity ; Phys- 
iological psychology; Psychology ; 
Senses; Time and Space; Unconscious 
mental action ; Will. 
Phlebotomy. See Blood-letting. 
Phlegmatic people, inheritance of the 
world belongs to them, 3, 41. 
Phosphorescence, 5, 305. 
Phosphorus, smell of, 1, 75 ; relation of, 
to thought, 7, 235; chemical changes 
in, 9, 214. 
Photographs, of the past, 1, 242; give 
features one particular look, 2, 191; 
development of, 6,180; instantaneous, 
8, 124 ; microscopic, illustrate the 
alleged material record of memory, 
298, 299. 
Phrases, of shrewd doctors, for patients, 
9, 389; odd phrases, see Words and 
Phrases. 
Phrenology, visit to Emporium, 2, 195 ; 
result of examination, 197; short lec- 
ture on phrenology and its resem- 
blance to a pseudo-science, 197; its 
truth cannot be proved, by reason of 
the structure of head, 199 ; cases which 
prove nothing, 200 ; the world's debt 
to, 5, 226, 227 ; the first phrenological 
picture made, 6, 141; a mistake of, 7, 
125 ; a pseudo-science, 9, 244. 
Phryne, 1, 10. 
Phthisis. See Consumption. 
Phyllum siccifolium, 3, 240. 
Physalia, 1, 97 n. 
Physician in " Arabian Nights," his pre- 
scription, 6, 181. 
Physicians. See Doctors. 
Physiological psychology, growth of, 8, 272 
INDEX. 
329 ; Ribot on, 358 ; has taken up the 
problem of the will, 378. 
Physiology, laws of, not altered by re- 
publicanism, 3, 276; its progress by 
aid of the microscope, 9, 231; its 
largest truth, 232; importance of, 375; 
changes in methods of teaching, 421, 
422. 
Piano forte players, manners of, 1, 85. 
Pichegru, General, amount of sleep of, 
8 231. 
Pickwick, Mr., 10, 162. 
" Pickwick Papers," 6, 274, 275. 
Picnics, sufficiently depressing, 8, 219. 
Pico della Mirandola, 10, 124. 
Picts, 10, 114. 
Pictured thought, 8, 269. 
Pictures, death-bed, 6, 296; in the Bos- 
ton Athenaunn Picture Gallery, 7, 3 ; 
at Blenheim, 10, 6; Grosvenor House, 
54 ; one of lady, by Reynolds, 85; at 
National Gallery, 151; those at the 
Louvre recalled, 169, 170. 
Pie, the Young Fellow's surmise as to 
age of, 1( 79; the Autocrat eats too 
large a piece, 80; desponding poetry 
resultant therefrom, 81 ; as a national 
food, 4, 186. 
Pied piper of Hamelin, 5, 10. 
Pierce, Ruth, struck dead at Devizes 
with lie on her lips, 1, 281 ; 10, 186. 
Pierpont, John, 7, 5. 
Pierrepont, Sarah, wife of Jonathan Ed- 
wards, 8, 365. 
Piety, pathological, 3, 303. 
Pig, annual tragedy of the, 7, 25. 
Pig's feet, digestibility of, 8, 218. 
Pigeon, Master, schoolmaster at Pig- 
wacket, in Elsie Venner, 5, 26, 27. 
Pighogg, Churrergeon, 9, 317. 
Pigment, dark, of certain animals, 2, 
229. 
Pigsty, artistic, called Porcellarium, 6, 
382. 
Pigwacket Centre, 5, 22-24; district 
school of, 24. 
" Pilgrim's Progress," 6, 76 ; quoted, 8, 
48, 388 ; mental condition of Christian 
in, 416. 
Pilgrims of Plymouth, we have a right 
to be proud of the clergy of, 8, 404, 
405; condition of the country on arri- 
val of the, 9, 314-316; their experi- 
ence with clams, 315; mortality of, 
tlie first winter, 316; glance at the 
conditions of, 320-324; graves of the 
dead levelled, 325; dealing of, with 
quackery, 328; their stern life took 
the nonsense out of, 363. 
Pillar, The Hangman's. See Hangman's 
stone. 
Pin, reason of captive preserved by 
means of a, 6, 74. 
Pindar, his odes were occasional poems, 
4, 270. 
Pinel, Dr., 8, 212; 9, 389. 
Pinkney, William, appearance when 
pleading, 1, 7. 
Pinnikle, Mrs., of the Apex family, in 
The Guardian Angel, 6, 289. 
Pinnikle, Miss Rhadamantha, 6, 312. 
Pinxter Blumejies, 8, 154. 
Piorry, 9, 437. 
"Pious and painefull," 2, 146. 
Piozzi, Madame, 3, 186, 325 ; 4, 243, 284. 
Piper's " Trees of America," 1, 236. 
Pirates, Danish, skins of, nailed to 
church doors, 1, 107. 
Piron, 10, 168. 
Pisa, Galileo in Cathedral of, 10, 166. 
Pitch-pine Yankees, 3, 276. 
Pitid, H6pital de la, Paris, 10, 164. 
Pittsfield, Massachusetts, 10, 77. 
Pius IX., believed by many to have pos. 
sessed the evil eye, 7, 65. 
Place de la Concorde, Paris, 10, 176. 
Place Vend6me, Paris, 10, 45, 162, 173. 
Plagiarism, disgust for, 1, 146; uncon- 
scious, 4, 153; supposed cases of, 8, 
45, 46; innocent, 287, 288. 
Plague, a word used very vaguely, 9, 
315. 
Plainness of speech and manners, 2, 
145. 
Planchette, 9, 368. 
Planetary foundlings, 4, 54. 
Planing-mill, resemblance to a bee-hive, 
3, 325. 
Plantagenet razor, 10, 16. 
Plantain, 2, 235. 
Plants, cultivation of, 9, 253. 
Plaster of Paris, called " calcined min- 
eral of Lutetia," 2, 29. 
Plasterer anticipated by nature, 9, 230, 
233. 
Platform, apostolic old men on the, at 
public meetings, 9, 411. 
Pleasure, of being forgotten, 3, 161; of 
finding one's own thought expressed 
by another, 4, 10. 
Pleasures of memory, 3, 328; to the old, 
4, 46. 
Plenipotentiary, winner of the Derby in 
1834, 10, 6; picture by Herring, 5, 
296 ; 6, 33, 40. 
Pliny, his "Natural History," 5 , 209; 
his horror of quackery, 9, 191. 
Plotinus, 7, 167. 
Pluck, dandies have, 1, 258. 
Plural personality, 4, 166. See also 
Dual consciousness. 
Plutarch, his anecdote of profligate, 8, 
332. 
Plymouth, Pilgrims of. See Pilgrims of 
Plymouth. 
Po, crossing the, 1, 279. 
Pocahontas, Myrtle takes the part of, 
in The Guardian Angel, 6, 279 et seq. 
Pocasset, in The Guardian Angel, 6. 
20. 
Pocket, not needed by an honest person, 
4, 64; nerve that runs to the, 9, 409. 
Pocket-book delusion, 1, 207. 
Poe, Edgar A., 2, 281. 
Poems, changes introduced in one of 
Autocrat's to suit teetotallers, 1, 47; 273 
each has a soul and body, 99; in 
?reen state until long kept and used, 
01; parts should be knit together in 
absolute solidarity, 104; post-pran- 
dial kind, 222 ; each one represents 
a great expenditure of vital force, 3, 
97, 98; unpublished, 4, 87; occasional, 
269, 270 ; unwritten better than writ- 
ten, 10, 99. See also Poetry; Poets; 
Rhymes; Verse. 
Poet, My friend the, on suddenness of 
lyric conception, 1, 98; his opinion of 
rapidly growing towns, 128; a brief 
poem by, 174; the Autocrat's relation 
with the Professor and the Poet, 178 
et seq. ; would have liked woman's 
praises, 183; his dread of anniversa- 
ries, 222 ; poem by, 223. 
Poet, a kind-hearted, modest, genial, 
hopeful, (Charles Mackay) 1, 222. 
Poet, The, at the Breakfast-Table, 4, 
307. 
Poetaster who has tasted type is done 
for, 1, 293. 
Poetic muse, 1, 249. 
Poetic nature, the real, 6, 209. 
Poetical impulse, external, 1, 99. 
Poetical reputation, desire for, 4, 74. 
Poetry, a luxury, not a necessity, 3,100; 
a matter of heart-beats, 4, 41; con- 
tagious, 50 ; attenuated volumes of, 
76; everybody can learn to make, 77 ; 
taught in twelve lessons, 78; its man- 
ufacture an important industry, 84 et 
seq.; true poetry the ashes of a burnt- 
out passion, 85, 92, 279; common in 
love letters, 92; unrhymed and un- 
versed, 6, 208 ; critical test of, by 
the stop-watch, 8, 318; popular, al- 
ways written with reference to 
rhythm of respiration, 319; asso- 
ciated with English scenery, 10, 49, 
50. 
Poets, love verses while warm from 
their minds, 1, 101; moods of, 180; 
compared to a hand-organ, 181 ; their 
stock of tunes limited, 182; water lily 
the type of the poet's soul, 182; 
women first to appreciate, 183; poets 
as creators not frequent, 183; two 
kinds of, 184; excess of sensibility in, 
185; apt to call in stimulation for in- 
tellect, 187 ; more prone to this abuse 
because mind and body have pre- 
viously flagged, 191; never young in 
a sense, 2, 239; flight unerring like 
that of goose, 240; find material 
everywhere, 244; want a home, 246; 
their inner nature, 3, 11 ; their know- 
ledge of the subjects with which they 
deal, 72, 73; those who never write 
verses the best talkers, 94; treated as 
privileged persons, 99; all real ones 
are artists, 100 ; concessions should be 
made to their idiosyncrasies, 101; 
personality of, 109 ; their fondness for 
reading their own compositions to 
others, 202; their non-clerical minds, 
INDEX. 
257; length of life among, 4, 40; they 
should exalt the idea of manhood, 49; 
Number Seven's opinion of, 75; the 
best poets not always appreciated at 
once, 88; unsuccessful, 88; Horace's 
counsel to, 89; think themselves dif- 
ferent from common folks, 89; one 
would not make rhymes while his 
house was burning, 279; nor declaim 
a versified proposal to his Amanda, 
280; depreciated, 6, 204; capable of 
divided affection, 214; as natural ob- 
servers, 8, 133, 134 ; mental attitude 
of, while writing, 286; classified by 
Akenside, 295; the natural antago- 
nists of religious pessimists, 431; are 
fond of trees, 10, 70; understand their 
own poetry, 70; stained windows in 
honor of, 205. 
Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey, 
10, 59-62. 
Point d'Alencon, 6, 311. 
Poison-cure doctrine of disease, 9, 256, 
257, 262, 266. 
Poisoners, painted of dark hue, 2, 229. 
Poisoning, from eating partridge, 8, 219, 
220; from lobsters, clams, mussels, 
mackerel, 220. 
Poisons, morbid, 4, 54; which may 
cause human beings to manifest pecu- 
liarities of lower animals, 5, 219, 224, 
225; girl fed on, 222 ; mineral, 9, 367. 
Poissardes of the French revolution, 10, 
178. 
Poisson: his " Th^orie du calcul des pro- 
babilit^s " has a fishy flavor, 8, 147 ; 
author's recollection of, 10, 167. 
Police, literary, 3, 152; Turkish cadi's 
methods might be infused into the 
management of, 8, 349; of London, 
polite, 10, 192. 
Polish lance, 1, 19. 
Political firebugs, 3, 3. 
Political freedom in America is owing 
to Protestantism, 5, 253. 
Politicians, worn-out, 5, 165; as doc- 
tors, 9, 345, 384; a lady's dog the bit- 
terest one the author met in England, 
10, 200. 
Politics, common people of New Eng- 
land will not stop talking, 2, 118; 
Americanized, 207, 208; as a trade, 
8, 81; influence of the clergy on, 
406 ; the muddy sewer of, 9, 384 ; not 
talked of at dinners in England, 10, 
75, 200. 
Polkommet, Lord, his way of preparing 
for a judicial decision, 8, 290. 
Pollard's Tahvern, in Elsie Venner, 5, 
65,85. 
Pollock, Mrs., finds author a secretary 
in England, 10, 25. 
Pollok, Robert, 6, 206. 
Polyandry a normal condition of the 
church, 6, 17. 
Polygamists, love-letters of, rich in por 
etical extracts, 4, 92. 
"Poly-Olbion," Drayton's, 4,133. 274 
INDEX. 
Polyphysiophilosophical societies, 1,136. 
Pomfret, Connecticut, religious conflict 
in, 8, 411, 412. 
Ponce de Leon, memory is like the foun- 
tain of, 10, 168. 
Pond-lily, 1, 182; a red, 8, 153. 
Ponsonby, Miss, 10, 186. 
Pont Neuf, Paris, three objects always 
to be met on, 10, 175. 
Pooh-Poohs, tribe of, 8, 326; common- 
sense as represented by one of the, 
351. 
Pool, Miss Bella, in The Guardian An- 
gel, 6, 270. 
Poole's " Index," 9, 403. 
Poor Gentleman, part often played by 
the Autocrat, 1, 43. 
Poor Relation, in The Autocrat and The 
Professor, takes offence, 1, 30; leaves 
table suddenly, 86, 101; her decorum 
about "retiring," 208; doubts the 
Autocrat, 262; wedding-present given 
by, 311; 2, 21. 
Poor relations, social attentions to, 2, 
140. 
Pope, quotation from an epistle of, to 
Addison, 3, 111 : his lines on London 
monument, 10, 179. 
Popgun, That Boy's, its first appear- 
ance, 3, 63 ; its last appearance, 236; 
its efficiency, 237. 
Poplar, a tall, 1, 232; Lombardy, 3, 19; 
10, 191. 
Poplars, The, home of Myrtle Hazard, 
in The Guardian Angel, 6, 6, 21. 
Poppy-water, 9, 361. 
Population, of earth-born intelligences, 
2,107 ; our native, not increasing so 
rapidly as formerly. 9, 294. 
Porches, provocative of civilities, 1,302. 
Pork, the only merchantable article a 
Hebrew is never known to seek profit 
from, 6, 272; digestibility of, and 
prejudice against, 8, 218. 
Porphyro and Madeline, 7, 234, 235. 
Porpoises, 10, 15. 
Portents, 9, 356. 
Porter, Dr., of Andover, face "fes- 
tooned " in wrinkles, 8, 249. 
Porter, Dr., of Conway, prophecy of, 8, 
408. 
Porter, Zachary, " Atlantic Monthly " 
founded at his inn, 8, 171. 
Portfolio, the first, opened more than 
fifty years ago, 7, 2; the second 
opened in 1857, 11. 
Portland, 5, 14; 8, 110; getting too 
prosperous, 5, 15. 
Portraits, those necessary to a man of 
family, 1, 21 ; in literature drawn too 
faithfully 61; portrait by Titian of 
young man, in Louvre, 193; a lady's 
portrait with sword-thrust through it, 
2,188; one's own, apt to be a surprise 
to him. 190 ; artist's method of secur- 
ing, 191; resemblances in, to various 
relatives, 192 ; that of Leah the witch, 
262; of ancestors seen in a vision, in 
The Guardian Angel, 6, 91-95; of Ju- 
dith Pride, 182, 183; by Reynolds, 10, 
54, 85, 151. 
Portsmouth, how not to pronounce, 1, 
288; Rockingham House in, 6, 15. 
" Portuguese Sonnets," 2, 223. 
Posey, Susan, In The Guardian Angel, 
6, 3, 51 ; her letter to Clement Lind- 
say, 96; Master Gridley warns her not 
to receive alone the ministrations of 
the Rev. Mr. Stoker, 145 et seq.; 
visits his study with Mrs. Hopkins, 
152 ; receives Clement Lindsay, 227 
et seq. ; dusts Master Gridley's books, 
369; he comforts her in regard to her 
lost love for Clement Lindsay, 373; 
Lindsay gives her her freedom, 374; 
she and Gifted Hopkins tell their love, 
386. 
Position. See Social position. 
Possession, demoniacal, 5, 396 ; 8, 357. 
Possumus quia posse videmur, 8, 381. 
Post-prandial poems and speeches com- 
pared to pulling up flowers by the 
roots, 1, 222. 
Potato: small ones always get to the 
bottom, 1, 291 ; excitement of dig- 
ging, 8, 169; eye of, 210; potato ball, 
9, 275 ; in England, 10, 201. 
Pott, Percival, 9, 413. 
Potter, the ventriloquist, 4, 77. 
Potter, Paulus, 2, 29. 
Poultry Cross, Salisbury, England, 10, 
122. 
Poussin, 10, 170. 
Powwows, Indian, 6, 89. 
Powders, sympathetic. See Sympathetic 
powders. 
Power, creative, demands freedom from 
disturbance, 3, 100; feared only when 
it cannot be mastered, 271. 
Powers, active, decay of, welcomed by 
some, 4, 39. 
Practical men, mistake of, 9, 176. 
Praise, writers given to, as they mature, 
1, 81. 
Prayer, folly of, in a shipwreck, 1, 88; 
for the dying, 2, 303; remarkable 
gift at, owes much force to a strong 
animal nature, 6, 121; no doctrine of, 
an excuse for not using all natural 
means, 9, 364. 
Preacher, a dull, from hearing no ser- 
mons might lapse into heathenism, 1, 
29; has his hearer's head in chancery, 
413. See also Clergymen; Ministers ; 
Priests; Pulpit. 
Preble, Fort, twenty buccaneers lodged 
in, by Portland men, 8, 110. 
Precedents : when old ones fail, we must 
make new, 8, 115. 
Preface, difference between first and 
second, 2, viii. ; three great ones, 9, 
310. 
Prejudices, their value, 3, 6 ; intellec- 
tual irritation produced by rubbing 
against other people's, 6. 
Prelude, 1,296. INDEX. 
275 
Pre-natal influence, 5, x. 
Prentiss, Dame, 1, 200 ; 8, 239. 
Preparation-jar, doctor's, the true mon- 
umentum tere perennius, 5, 215. 
Prescriptions, medical, not always 
founded on experience, 9, 175; as 
heirlooms, 335, 336; familiar Latin of, 
394. 
President of the United States, 2, 115; 
supposed case of one who is not a gen- 
tleman, 141; every American-born hus- 
band is a possible, 5, 172. 
President's Old Arm-Chair. See Par- 
son Turell's Legacy. 
Press, the great gland of the civilized 
organism, 4, 148; impossibility of 
keeping up with the, 151. 
Presumptions, half our work in life is to 
overcome, 4, 284; of vast importance 
in medicine and law, 9, 202. 
Previous state of existence, 1, 73, 74. 
Pride, Judith, a beautiful ancestor of 
Myrtle Hazard, in The Guardian An- 
gel, 6, 15; marries " King David " 
Withers, 25, 93 ; portrait of, 182, 183; 
her bracelet, 186, 218, 241, 261, 277, 
312, 315. 
Pride, false, in a woman, 1, 271; spirit- 
ual, warning against, 3, 336. 
Priesthood, its teaching through igno- 
rant centuries, 4, 40. 
Priestley, Dr., 4, 155; 10, 27, 29, 55, 
73, 171, 199. 
Priests, notions of human destiny de- 
rived from, 5, 325; ministers and, 3, 
125; 8, 402; dead for the Protestant 
world, 402; Dr. Arnold's definition of 
a, 403; power of a, in sorrow, suffer- 
ing, and death, 403. See also Clergy- 
men; Ministers. 
Primroses, 10, 18, 124, 191. 
Prince, Rev. John, opposed to comets, 
8, 357 ; early student of science, 409; 
attacked Prof. Winthrop on the sub- 
ject of earthquakes, 9, 355. 
Prince, Thomas, 3, 121. 
Prince-Rupert's drops, certain literary 
celebrities compared to, 1, 38. 
Princes, making persons feel at ease a 
special accomplishment of, 10, 35. 
See also Albert Edward; Albert Vic- 
tor; Christian. 
"Princess, The," Tennyson's, quoted, 
8, 292. 
Princesses. See Christian; Louise; 
Wales. 
Princeton College, Scotch theological 
thistle always flourished at, 8 , 394. 
Principle, maintained against obvious 
facts, 1, 56; dying for, higher than 
scolding for, 2, 121. 
Prior, Matthew, breathed more quickly 
than Spenser, 8, 319. 
Prisoners, companionship found by, in 
a flower or an insect, 6, 75; Confed- 
erate, 8, 36, 37, 58-61; unfair to 
make speeches to, 59. See also Crim- 
inal. 
Prisons, defects of, 8, 345; reform oft 
353-357. See also Crime ; Criminal. 
Private journal, extracts from the Auto, 
crat's, 1, 246. 
Private property in thought, 3, 303. 
Private theatricals, 1, 43. 
Privileged class of gentlemen and ladies, 
inevitable, 2,134. 
Prize-fighters with iron pots on their 
heads, knights called, 2, 135. 
Probabilities provided with buffers, 1, 
56. 
Prodigal son, sermon on, 2, 117 ; conso- 
lation of the parable, 302. 
Professions, Coleridge advised literary- 
men to have one, 1, 179; 8, 231; dig- 
ging a moat round their corporations, 
2, 11; knowledge cannot be limited 
by, 14; the learned, 105; a master of 
one, must have learning, 9, 400. 
Professor, The, at the Breakfast-Table, 
some verses by, 1, 26; on hiring an 
earthquake, 72; gets abused, 81; let- 
ters from autograph hunters, 90; his 
detection of youth who broke his night 
lamp, 108; returns home from a gath- 
ering of "the boys," 120; irritable at 
being called an old man, 148 et seq. ; 
his paper on old age, 150-174; de- 
scribes his boating, 163 et seq.; his 
fleet, 164; his boat, 168; the Auto- 
crat's relations with the Professor and 
Poet, 178 et seq.; his poem The Two 
Armies, 225; his house, 241-243; his 
poem The Deacon's Masterpiece, 252; 
under chloroform, 295 et seq.; other 
mention of, 194, 195, 196; appears as 
character in Over the Teacups, 4, 24; 
talks about music, 98; Delilah cuts 
his hair, 201; his personality, 306 et 
seq. 
Professor, The, in Elsie Venner, his unea- 
siness in regard to wording certificate 
for Bernard Langdon, 5,16 et seq.; his 
letter to Langdon in regard to curious 
cases of moral perversion, etc., 221- 
228; his advice to Langdon to strike 
for best circle of practice, 482, 483. 
Professor's Story, The, original name of 
Elsie Venner, 5, vii. 
Professors, tend towards conservatism, 
2, 14; a good thing to get rid of old, 
9, 423; chair of, an insulating stool, 
426; of medicine in Paris, 427-437. 
Profligate, a, made virtuous by a fall, 8, 
332. 
Prologue to private theatricals, 1, 45. 
Pronunciation, peculiar, in New York, 
2, 142. 
Proof-sheets, caution about, 1, 49. 
Prophecy, the best sort of, 8, 13; of 
New England ministers, 407, 408; of 
M. Babinet on the destruction of the 
earth, 425, 426. 
Prophet of evil, dreadful business of be- 
ing, 2, 252. 
Proposal, woman's premonition of com- 
ing, 6, 323. 276 
INDEX. 
Proprieties of life, as observed by Anglo- 
Saxons in tlie XIXth century, 8, 67. 
Proselytes, cause of reproaches, 8, 419. 
Protein, Mulder's doctrine concerning, 
9, 237. 
Protest of the Province of Massachu- 
setts, 8, 85. 
Protestantism, no rest for it until it 
gives up its legendary anthropology, 
2, x.; the having no woman to be wor- 
shipped makes it unpoetical, 178; 
the'business of dying not so well un- 
derstood in, as by Roman Catholics, 
4, 250; America owes its political 
freedom to, 5, 253; largely a matter 
of race, 317 ; its false shame in regard 
to spiritual needs of the sick, 450 ; its 
failure to provide for those who worry 
about their souls, 6, 29; the confes- 
sional not unknown in, 160 ; it means 
"none of your business," 404; the 
priest is dead for, 8,402; a long pro- 
cess to republicauize, 404 ; many com- 
partments in the fold of, 419; vital 
division of, 430, 431. See also Reli- 
gion ; Roman Catholic Church. 
Prout, Dr., 9, 215. 
Proverbs, remembered by their jingle, 
9, 287. 
Providence, Rhode Island, high tide at, 
in 1815, 8, 164. 
Provincialism, city, 4, 277; deprovin- 
cializing effect of war on, 8, 10 ; Con- 
tinental, as bad as that of Coos coun- 
ty, 11. 
Provisional races, aborigines called, 2, 
82. 
Psalmody, depressing, 6, 80; of Scot- 
land, 10, 86. 
Pseudo-science, definition of, 2, 197; 
not wholly a lie, 198. 
Psora. 9, 45, 49, 57, 82, 391. 
Psychology, investigations in, 4, 16; 
moral, 8, 359. See also Philosophy; 
Physiological psychology. 
Psylli, 5, 225. 
Public, addressed as if it were an au- 
thor's private correspondent, 7, 12; 
ignorance and prejudices of, 9, 416, 
417. 
Public Garden, Boston, 1, 273. 
Public opinion, the Autocrat's receipt 
for regulating, 1, 115. 
Publicity often gives a thought medio- 
crity, 3, 344. 
Publisher, Gifted Hopkins's visit to, in 
The Guardian Angel, 6, 298 et seq. 
Pudding-stone, 2, 256. 
Puerperal fever. See Fever, puerperal. 
Puffing, anonymous, 2, 75. 
Pugilistic encounter, 2 , 279. 
Pugilists are " stale " soon after thirty, 
1, 156. 
Pugin, 10, 122. 
Pulpit, spiritualism as a Nemesis of the, 
2, 13 ; and pews, relation of, 4, 248 ; 
8, 402-433. See also Clergymen; Min- 
isters ; Preacher. 
Pulse, distinguished by its rhythmical 
character, 8, 315 ; possible influence 
of, on accent, 319; coincidence be- 
tween, and number of steps in a min- 
ute, 320. 
"Punch," 10, 42, 201. 
Punch, whiskey, 2, 132. 
Pundit, his awe of word O'm, 2, 7. 
Punishment, scale of, in law, 8, 324; 
Despine argues against capital, 345; 
too severe, less likely to be inflicted 
than moderate, 345, 346 ; secondary, 
355, 366. 
Punishment, future, 4, 245 et seq. ; 8, 
414. 
Puns, 1, 11; Macaulay quoted on, 13 ; a 
kind of wit, 50 ; an indignity to the 
understanding, 251 ; specimens of, 
251, 252; cant or slang worse than, 
256. 
Pupil of the eye, simile of the mind of 
the bigot to the, 1, 144. 
Purgatory, doctrine of, among New 
England Protestants, 4, 244. 
Puritan exclusiveness, 4, 194. 
Puritans, we have a right to be proud 
of the clergy of, 8, 404, 405. 
Purpose, need of a strong, 8, 115. 
Put not your trust in money, but put 
your money in trust, 1, 49. 
" Putnam's Magazine," 7, 10. 
" Putney," the hymn, 6, 81. 
Pyramids, preferable to railroad village, 
2, 246 ; model of, furnished by Na- 
ture, 4, 101 ; common motive in 
builders of, 8, 84 ; of Darshour, 9, 
230; decussation of, 9, 243. 
Pythoness, in Low'ell Street, 9, 367. 
Pyx, a quartz, 4, 164, 165. 
Quack medicines, demand for, 9, 186. 
See- also Patent medicines. 
Quackery, dropped in real danger, 8, 
232; danger in employing, 237 ; the 
vulgar ones become atrophied, 9, 301; 
the Pilgrims' way of dealing with, 
328 ; all but immortal, 367 ; of our 
own time, 368. 
Quadrupeds, learned, 8, 91. See also 
Animals. 
Quaker element in Philadelphia, the, 8, 
70. 
Quality, the definition of, 2,133; qual- 
ity-ladies preferred, 136. 
Quantity, false, the use of a, a fatal mis- 
step for public men, 1, 110. 
Quaritch, Bernard, his collection of rare 
books, 4, 115; visit of author to his 
shop, 10, 146-149; extracts from his 
catalogues, 148, 149. 
Queen of Sheba, 3, 322. 
Queens of England. See Anne; Bloody 
Mary ; Victoria. 
Queenstown, 10, 18. 
Querulousness in disease, 8, 28. 
Questions, submitted to the Professor, 2, 
203; tendency of aged or disordered 
persons to repeat, 8, 296; old, inci- INDEX. 
277 
dentally settled in the course of new 
investigations, 9, 242. 
Quetelet, meteorological tables of, 8, 
134,184. 
" Qui a bu, boira," 8, 340 ; 9,424. 
Quincy, Josiah, 1772-1864, 4, 27. 
Quincy Market, 2, 196. 
Quinnepeg Pond, in Elsie Venner, 5, 47. 
Quintain, riding at the, 2, 120. 
Rabelais, 10, 128. 
Rabelais Club, 10, 59, 198. 
Rabies humana, a Parisian distemper, 
10, 172, 173. 
Race of life, 1, 95 et seq. 
Races, higher, sympathies go with, 1, 
66; recognized inequality of, the cor- 
ner-stone of the Southern dispensa- 
tion, 8, 87. 
Rachel, ophidian head of, 5, 225; Fech- 
ter's estimate of, 7, 243; her magnet- 
ism, 244. 
Racing, not republican, 1, 34; records 
of, 36. See also Derby; Horses. 
Rack, 2, 207. See also Torture. 
Radcliffe, Dr., 9, 386. 
Radnor, Earl of, 10, 121. 
Railroad, intoxication of travel on, 8, 
18; magnetizing effect of travel on, 19; 
cars, gambling on, 52; cars lighted by 
candles, 52 ; danger from women who 
will open windows, 214; inspector at 
station trying the wheels and irons, 
260, 261. See also Telegraph; Travel. 
Railroad village, attractiveness of, 2, 
246. 
Ramsbotham, Dr., 9 111, 132, 138, 164, 
166. 
Ranke, Leopold von, 4, 27. 
Raphael, author, as a child, believed 
him to be superhuman, 1, 204; early 
death of, 2, 157; his " Santa Apol- 
lina," 178; paintings of, mentioned, 
7, 19, 48 ; disinterment of, 10, 96. 
Rarey, M. Despine borrows a lesson 
from, 8, 346; his method with in- 
tractable horses, 9, 389. 
Raspail's proof-sheets, 1, 25. 
" Rasselas," less interesting to the young 
than "Vicar of Wakefield," 6, 77; 
recommended to medical students of 
a philosophical turn of mind, 7, 168 
et seq. 
Rat, impulse to kill, 5, 168. 
Rathbone, Fred, dealer in Wedgwood 
ware, 4, 13, 17 ; 10, 18, 21. 
Rats, Les, des Salons a lecture, 1, 58. 
Rattlesnake ledge, in Elsie Venner, 5, 
43 et seq., 141; Langdon's visit to, 188- 
191; buried in mountain-slide, 464. 
Rattlesnakes, 5, 43 et seq. ; number of 
rattles indicate age of victims killed, 
44; Bernard Langdon, in Elsie Venner, 
charmed by one, 190, 191; Langdon 
procures some to study, 207 et seq. ; 
their significance in Nature, 208 ; pre- 
served specimen, 215 ; all animals are 
panic-struck at sight of, 223; influ- 
ence of jtheir poison over moral facul- 
ties, 225; their connection with the 
mystery of Elsie's life, 434, 435; not 
ill-meaning citizens of the universe, 
8, 336. 
Razor, the Plantagenet, 10, 16; the 
Star, 16, 17, 202. 
Read, T. Buchanan, uses image of the 
two streams, 8, 46. 
Reader, the Autocrat would have one to 
read for him continually, 1, 63. 
Reader, manuscript. See Butcher, the. 
Readers, every writer of individuality 
may expect to have one, 3, 36, 37; 
those who have no libraries of their 
own, 209 ; new generation of, 10, 38. 
Reading, slackens strength of feeling, 1, 
133; for the sake of talking, 134; dif- 
ference between a man's and woman's, 
275; courses of, 4, 149; Dr. Johnson 
quoted on, 8, 270 ; peculiar pleasure 
of reading in a foreign language, 350. 
See also Books. 
Ready-made clothing, a poem compared 
to, 1, 67. 
Realism, its contributions to literature, 
4, 105; to art, 107 ; accusations to be 
brought against, 109. 
Rebel prisoners. See Prisoners, Con- 
federate. 
Rebellion, War of the. See American 
Civil war. 
Receptions, attended in London, 10, 28, 
29, 37, 43 ; official, 43, 44; crowds at, 
44, 45; reception given by author and 
family in London, 54. 
Recognition, grades of, illustrated by 
supposed meeting of thermometers 
and barometers, 10, 142, 143. 
Recollections, small store of, essential 
to identity hereafter, 1, 209. 
Record Office, English, 10, 56. 
Red pond-lily, 8, 153. 
Red republic of letters, 3, 10. 
Red sorrel, 3, 22. 
Rees's Cyclopaedia, 9, 402, 403. 
Reflex action of the brain. See Uncon- 
scious mental action. 
Reflex headache, 4, 129. 
Reflex vision, 9, 248. 
Reform club of London, 10, 198. 
Reform schools, 8, 345. 
Reformers, their danger is from the 
flattery of abuse, 2, 202; bitterness 
towards, 8, 90 ; office of, 90. 
Regent's Park, London, 10, 140, 141. 
Regicides, John Dixwell, one of the, 10, 
53. 
Register of deeds, in The Poet, his daily 
life, 3, 60; his investigations, 168; 
discussion as to whether he is a super- 
fluous person, 170 ; his interest in The 
Lady, 289; the intimacy explained, 
289 et seq. 
Registrar-General, of England, 9, 104, 
111, 169. 
Regulus, returning to Carthage, 2, 122. 
Reid, Dr., on moral imbeciles, 8, 337. 278 
Relatives, opinions of, as to a man's 
powers, are of little value, 1, 54; apt 
to hate each other, 5, 151. 
Relics of battlefields repulsive, 8, 42. 
Religion, one's breeding shows itself in 
his, 1, 312; its currency consists of 
polarized words, 2, 6 ; should belong 
to the common people, 107 ; science 
not an enemy of, 113; women more 
religious than men, 124, 209 ; time for 
it to be Americanized, 207 ; genius for, 
3, 128; not an intellectual luxury, 
190; need of, 193 et seq. ; does not 
rid a man of his natural qualities, 304; 
springs from sentiments, 8, 91; what 
we want in, 401. See also Creed; 
Clergymen ; Ministers ; Priests ; Prot- 
estantism ; Roman Catholic church ; 
Sermons; Soul; Spiritualism ; The- 
ology ; Will. 
Religious attitude of old age, 4, 45. 
Religious character, emotional parox- 
ysms often the basis of, 6, 184. 
Religious discussions, worth and dangers 
of, 3, 187 et Nf. 
Religious excitement, American climate 
predisposes to, 6, 155. 
Religious opinions, difficulty of holding 
one's own, 2, 92; each man has some 
peculiar to himself, 297. 
Religious professions, of criminals of 
small account, 8, 340. 
Religious spirit, 2, 212. 
" Remarkable judgments," quoted from 
Cotton Mather, 2, 115. 
Rembrandt, 2, 29. 
Remedies, uncertain effect of, 6, 130; 
more eagerly sought than causes of 
disease. 9, 195 ; those employed by 
Gov. Winthrop, 330-335; by Dr. Oliver, 
336, 337 ; manuscript list of. 339; per- 
turbing, 339 ; four great, 348 ; none 
which have been proved to be useful 
rejected by doctors, 391. See also Dis- 
ease ; Doctors; Drugs; Medicine; 
Medicines. 
Reminiscences: display of minus quan- 
tities in those of old people, 4, 33. 
" Remorse," Coleridge's, quoted, 8, 355. 
Repeating one's self, 1, 7, 8. 
Repetition, liability of, in writing, 4, 8 ; 
propriety of, 9 ; self-repetition of star- 
tling news in the mind, 8, 4. 
Reply, not equivalent to an ansiver, 9, 
81. 
Reporters, how they make up their re- 
ports, 3, 3. See also Newspapers. 
Repose, idea of, inseparable from death, 
2 , 276; necessary to production of 
beauty, 5, 124. 
Republic of letters, Red, 3, 10. 
Republicanism, does not alter the laws 
of physiology, 3, 276; levels in re- 
ligion, 8, 411. 
Republicans, the only true ones in the 
solar system are the inhabitants of 
Saturn, 4, 62. 
Reputation, conventional literary, 1,38; 
INDEX. 
living on reputation of reputation one 
might have made, 61 ; poetical, desire 
for, 4, 74 ; old, prized in the country, 
5, 165. 
Resemblance and identity, distinction 
between, in homoeopathy, 9, 69. 
Resistance, Sam. Adams's word, 2, 41. 
Respectability, the hat the ultimum 
moriens of, 1, 178. 
Respiration, work done in, 7, 261; effect 
of exercise on, 8, 229; only partly 
under control, 261, 329 ; distinguished 
by rhythmical character, 315 ; natural 
rate of, 316. 
Responses in High Church service, 3, 
128. 
Responsibility, for imperfect volition, in 
Elsie Venner, 5, ix., x., xii.; moral, 
limits of, 225, 226; of the deformed, 
physically and mentally, 247, 248 ; un- 
due sense of, 6, 78 et seq., 409; trans- 
missible, moral chaos began with the 
idea of, 303-306; transferable, accept- 
ed by theology, 325 ; tendency to limit 
the range of moral, 328. See also Au- 
tomatism ; Crime ; Heredity; Sin; Un- 
conscious mental action ; Will. 
Responsum Raphaelis, 9, 354. 
Rest. See Repose. 
Retiarius, 6, 332. 
Retina, the, and its brain, 9, 247. 
"Retiring," at night, etiquette of, 1, 
208; 6, 339. 
Revere, Dr., 8, 27. 
Revere, Paul, 8, 10. 
Reverence, spirit of, should be cultivated 
in young people, 3, 195 ; should be- 
gin with self-respect, 270 ; unanalyz- 
ing instinct of, 9, 181. 
Reverie, state of, creative genius allied 
to, 1, 191 ; encouraged by tobacco, 8, 
226. 
Reversed current in flow of mind, 2. 
147. 
" Review of Reviews," 4, 151. 
Revival of humanity, 3, 305. 
Revivals of religion, under Edwards, 8, 
389, 390. 
Revolution, American. See American 
Revolution. 
Revolutions are not made by men in 
spectacles, 9, 378. 
Revolving supernumeraries, in a stage 
show, people like, 8, 73. 
Rewards of authorship. 3, 160. 
Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 2, 29; 10, 47 ; his 
" Mrs. Siddons as Tragic Muse," 54 ; 
picture of lady by, 85; portraits by, 
151. 
Rheumatism, wrapping in a wolf-skin 
for, 9, 280 ; carrying horse-chestnut 
for, 369, 381, 382. 
Rhode Island, trees in, 1, 233; green- 
ings, 8, 163, 164. 
Rhymes, 1, 18; habit of chewing on, 
292; paucity of the language in, 3, 
72, 73; 4, 80; as a narcotic, 3, 99; 
and clever writing, capacity for, often 279 
mistaken for extraordinary endow- 
ment, 155; are iron fetters, 4, 79; 
rhyming as an amusement for feeble- 
minded children, 80 ; not the private 
property of a few noted writers, 84 ; 
cool off a man's passion, 280; bur- 
dens and restrictions of, 313 ; Gifted 
Hopkins's, 6, 200; a common form 
of mental weakness, 7, 292 et seq. 
See also Poems; Poetry ; Rhythm; 
Verses. 
Rhythm, is a tether, 4, 79; of respira- 
tion and pulse, 8, 315, 316; relation of 
that of verse to respiration, 316; of 
disease, 9, 273. See also Poems ; Po- 
etry ; Verses. 
Ribera, Joseph, 4, 107. 
Ribot, Dr., on moral imbeciles, 8, 358. 
Rich people, more apt to be agreeable 
than others, 2, 133 ; their refinement 
and delicacy, 135 ; frailties of, 3, 296; 
sons of, 8, 148 ; restlessness of, 231, 
232. See also Society; Wealth. 
Richard III., 9, 389; 10, 120. 
Richardson, G. W., 2, 49. 
Richardson, H. H., the architect, 10, 
194. 
Riche, Sir Nathaniel, 9, 341. 
Richerand, 9, 436. 
Riches. See Wealth. 
Ricord, the Voltaire of pelvic literature, 
9, 255, 437. 
Ridiculous, sense of the, dangerous for 
literary man to indulge in, 1, 90. 
Riding, expense of, 1, 166; gives the 
pleasure of governing another's will, 
167 ; graceful, 5, 149, 181, 182; makes 
men imperious, 150. See also Horses. 
Riedesel, Baroness, Hessian prisoner in 
Revolution, 10, 105. 
Riffelberg, Mark Twain's ascent of, 10, 
103. 
Rigby, Dr., on puerperal fever, 9, 159, 
162, 164-166. 
Right and wrong, standards of, not uni- 
formly applicable, 5, 246; eternal 
struggle between, 8, 14. 
Right-handedness, cause of, 8 , 268. 
Right of reentry released, case of, 3, 
293. 
Ring, once property of a Salem witch, 
2,9; one found by Thaddeus M. Har- 
ris, D. D., 3, 15; ring of Thothmes 
III., 111. 
Riolanus, 9, 95. 
Rip Van Winkle, 6, 275. 
Ritchie, Mrs. Anne (Thackeray), 10, 
40. 
River, like a soul, 6, 74; its solace to 
Myrtle, in The Guardian Angel, 75; 
what it says to its human companions, 
7, 99; its egotism, 251. 
River of Life, dreamed of by the dying, 
2, 277. 
Rivers, Lord, 9, 23. 
/l Roba di Roma," Story's, 7, 65. 
Robert, of the multitudinous buttons, 
10, 73,135. 
INDEX. 
Roberton, Dr., on puerperal fever, 9, 
124, 132, 138, 139, 158. 
" Robinson Crusoe," 6, 76. 
Robinson, Dr., of Andover, 3, 332 ; 8, 
257. 
Robinson of Leyden, 2, 174. 
Roby, Joseph, 1, 245 n. 
Rockingham House, Portsmouth, New 
Hampshire, 5, 14. 
Rockland, the scene of Elsie Venner, 5, 
41, 55. 
Rockland Fusileers, in Elsie Venner, 5, 
287. 
" Rockland Weekly Universe," newspa- 
per, in Elsie Venner, 5, 158, 165, 220, 
363. 
Rockport, Massachusetts, horse-chest- 
nut at, 1, 289 n. 
Rodgers, Professor William B., 9, 248. 
Rogers, Samuel, 3, 330; 4, 157, 264, 
270. 
Rolfe, Benjamin, shot by Indians, 8, 
252. 
Roman baths, at Bath, 10, 106. 
Roman Catholic chapel, in Elsie Venner, 
5 , 64, 150. 
Roman Catholic Church, its adherents 
looked upon by Protestants as spirit- 
ual larvee, 2, 242; its consolations, 
291; its members understand how to 
die better than Protestants, 4, 250; 
8, 403; its membership largely a mat- 
ter of race, 5, 307; Brownson's faith 
in, 324 ; 8, 420; Dr. Kittredge's opin- 
ion of, in Elsie Venner, 5, 406, 407; 
its doctrine of invincible ignorance, 
456; recognizes the class whose en- 
grossing thought is their own welfare, 
6, 29. See also Protestantism; Reli- 
gion. 
Romance, materials for, in boarding 
house, 2, 94. 
Rome, age of enlistment in ancient, 1, 
151; the world's mistress in her stone 
girdle, 280 ; battle of three-hilled city 
against seven-hilled city, 2, 78; active 
mind of century tending either to 
Rome or Reason, 123; age of, 245; 
evacuation of, by the French in 1876, 
8, 406. 
Romulus, 2, 82; and Remus may have 
imbibed wolfish traits, 5, ix. 
Room, difficulty of leaving a, 1, 17. 
Roosts, the world has a million for a 
man, but only one nest, 1, 142. 
Roscoe, William, Irving's emotion on 
seeing, 10, 52. 
Rose, The, and the Fem, 4, 118. 
Rose water, homoeopathically used, 9, 
66. 
Rosebery, Lady, reception by, at For- 
eign Office, 10, 43-47. 
Rosebery, Lord, 10, 29, 34. 
Roses, 1, 227, 229 ; 8, 146,148,149, 150, 
153; antipathy for, 5, 443. 
Rossetti, Miss, alludes to caterpillars in 
her poems, 8, 153. 
Rothschild, Lady, 10, 37, 46. 280 
INDEX. 
Roubiliac, his monument to Mrs. Night- 
ingale, 4, 171; 10, 62, 120 ; busts by, 
77. 
Rouget de 1'Isle, 4, 86. 
Rousseau, J. B., 10, 166. 
Rousseau, Jean Jacques, effect of the 
past upon, 2, 246. 
Rowens, Major Beeri, deceased husband 
of the Widow Bowens, in Elsie Ten- 
ner, 5, 286. 
Rowens, Widow, in Elsie Venner, her 
tea party, 5 , 286-328; her charms as 
a widow, 288, 289; feels that she could 
be induced to be Mrs. Dudley Venner, 
289 et seq. ; her library, 296, 297 ; be- 
comes Mrs. Pickins, 484. 
Rowing. See Boating. 
Roxbury pudding-stone, 2 , 256. 
Royal Academy exhibition, 10,151. 
Royal College of Physicians, London, 9, 
20. 
Royal College of Surgeons, 10, 67. 
" Royal George," Cowper's, 1, 281. 
Royal touch, 9 , 3, 354, 413. 
Royce, Professor, 4, 16. 
Roze, Marie, in " Carmen," 10, 73. 
Rubens, 10, 170. 
Rubila, a secret remedy, 9, 335. 
Rubinstein, 10, 55. 
Rudolph, the headsman, 1, 46. 
Rue, antipathy for, 5, 443. 
Ruffian, stage, at boarding-house table, 
in The Autocrat, 1, 53. 
Rukers, Thomas, maker of steel-chair, 
10, 128. 
Rule, Scotch gardener, 8, 148. 
Rum, offensive misuse of the word, 1, 
190 ; old Medford, 7, 275, 276 ; smell 
of, in haying time, 8, 154. 
Rumford, Count, his "Of the Pleas- 
ure of Eating," 8, 363. 
Rummel, writer on homoeopathy, 9, 76. 
Ruinrill, Deacon, in The Guardian An- 
gel, 6, 147, 149; entertains Clement 
Lindsay as a boarder, 225 et seq. ; re- 
turns " Ivanhoe " as a sinful work, 376. 
" Run down," different meanings of the 
phrase, 7, 82. 
Rush, Dr. Benjamin, 7, 172; 9, 180, 
181, 192, 292, 384. 
Ruskin, his aversion to a country with- 
out castles, 3, 11; 10, 131; too ill 
to receive author, 10 , 90, 185; St. 
Ruskin read with reverence, 127. 
Russell, incendiary, 8, 351. 
Russell, Mr., American consul at Liv- 
erpool, 10, 18, 180. 
Russell, Henry Sturgis, 2, 166. 
Russia leather, smell of, in nice books, 
1, 23. 
Russian ambassador, author occupies his 
seat in House of Commons, 10, 65. 
Rustic fence, best thing between Phila- 
delphia and New York, 8, 72, 73. 
Ruth, 6, 123. 
Rutter, Dr., on puerperal fever, 9, 123, 
124, 143. 
Ruysch, Dr., 9, 227. 
Sabbath, Puritan, 1, 212 ; word misused 
for Sunday, 2, 312. 
Sabbath-day pressure, 6, 20. 
Sabbath face, mournful suggestions of, 
2, 215. 
Sacrifice that may be demanded by the 
Civil war, 8, 14. 
Saddle, the true seat of empire, 5, 150. 
Saddle-leather, preferable to sole leath- 
er, 1, 166. 
Saddle-leather skin, 6, 286. 
Saint Anniversary, the patron saint of 
America, 8, 361. 
Saint Anthony the reformer, 2, 202. 
Saint Botolph's daughter, 8, 75. 
Saint Etienne du Mont, church of, in 
Paris, 1, 280; 10, 164. 
Saint-Hilaire, G.: his " Teratology," 8, 
358. 
Saint Martin, Alexis, with an accidental 
side-door to his stomach, 8, 218. 
Saint-Martins-in-the-Fields, 10, 194. 
Saint Paul's Cathedral, epitaph of Wren 
in, 9, 396; effect of dome of, 10, 150. 
Saint Petroleum, gospel of, 3, 40. 
Saint Valentine's day, 8, 135. 
Sainte - Beuve thinks science has de- 
stroyed faith, 8, 401. 
Sainte-Foix, 10, 166. 
Saints, three among women to one 
among men, 2,121 ; the greatest, may 
be a sinner that never got down to 
hard pan, 6, 355. 
" Saints and their Bodies," paper by 
T. W. Higginson, referred to, 1, 163. 
Sal volatile, its uses, 6, 344. 
Salaam of East-Indian children, 10, 57. 
Salamanders, human beings are all, 8, 
199. 
Salem, mean annual temperature, 8, 
134 ; Village, 10, 130; witchcraft, see 
Witchcraft. 
Salesman, character in The Poet, 3, 60; 
why he does not talk more, 204, 205. 
Salic law, 6,369. 
Salisbury, England, a week in, 10, 108- 
132; Cathedral, 108, 109, 118, 119, 
121, 129, 130-132; Close, 108, 109, 
113, 121, 122; epitaph on native of, 
110; spire, 117,118,131; monuments, 
119, 120 ; formerly unhealthy, 122 ; 
memories of week in, 131,132. 
Salisbury Crags, 10, 85. 
Salisbury Plain, 10, 111; larks of, 191. 
Salmon, Dr., 9, 414. 
Salt fish, constant diet of, compared to 
fixity of opinions in some people, 2, 
93. 
Sampson, Deborah, 6, 76. 
Samson, carving of, under pulpit, 10, 
164. 
Samson's Ribs, part of Salisbury Crags, 
10, 85. 
Sanborn. F. B., on prison reform, 8,353, 
354, 356. 
Sanchez, Father Thomas, 1, 252. 
Sanctorius, 9, 413. 
Sanctum, a doctor's, 5, 215. 281 
INDEX. 
Sandys, Dr., 10, 78. 
Sanitary map of every State in the 
Union needed, 3, 280. 
Sanitary science, 9, 352. 
Santorini's laughing muscle, 1, 194. 
Sappho, 3, 110. 
Saqui, Madame, 4, 42. 
Saracens, Southerners the, of the 19th 
century, 8, 106. 
Sargent, John, 10,151. 
Sarum, Old, England, 10, 110, 111, 122, 
123. 
Satisfaction, in theology, 8, 371. 
Saturation-point of individual minds, 9, 
392. 
Saturday Club of Boston, 1, 2 n., 63; 
7, 10; 10, 2, 62, 133. 
Saturn, its appearance, 4, 60; atmos- 
phere, 61; metals, 62; great indus- 
trial product, 63; women, 63; govern- 
ment, 62, 63; no looking glasses there, 
64; perfect equality there, 62, 65 ; its 
reformers, 64; life somewhat dull in, 
65; dislocation of the lower jaw com- 
mon in, 65; recreations in, 65. 
Saturnians, 4, 62-66. 
Saul, 5, 170. 
Saunders, Cortland, 8, 68, 69. 
Saurin, 10, 166. 
Savage, Thomas, number of doctors in 
his "Genealogical Dictionary," 9, 
316, 317. 
Savary, his " Letters on Egypt," 5, 225. 
Savate, French method of boxing, 2, 
53. 
Saving one's bright thoughts, 1, 27. 
Savonarola, subject of poem at Oxford, 
10, 89. 
Saxon race still trodden down by Nor- 
mans, 10, 66. 
Saybrook platform, ministerial veto al- 
lowed by, 8, 411. 
Sayings, old, not to be trusted, 4, 176. 
Saymore, Mrs., in Elsie Venner, frees 
her mind as to the Sprowle family, 5, 
84. 
Scale of measurement, among Americans 
and English, 10, 143, 144. 
Scandinavian of mysterious origin, 7, 
60-62. 
Scarabee, in The Poet, 3, 49; receives a 
visit from the Master and the Poet, 
238 et seq. ; absorption in his studies, 
244; his resemblance to his beetles, 
248 ; prefers spiders to men, 250; his 
gift to Scheherezade, 348. 
" Scarlet Letter," Hawthorne's, 7, 7; 
8, 18. 
Scars, change little through life, 8, 298. 
Scenery, English, poetical association 
with, 10, 49, 50. 
Schehallion, 6, 323. 
Scheherezade, in The Poet, her personal 
appearance, 3, 52; her stories, 53 ; her 
unfriendly critics, 83; she looks at the 
double-star, 140; her sympathy for the 
Young Astronomer, 141; the lessons in 
astronomy, 234 el seq.; her conspiracy 
with That Boy discovered, 236; change 
in her manner, 297 ; effect of absence 
of mind upon her stories, 300; effects 
of the Young Astronomer's poem upon 
her, 313; abandons story-writing, 346. 
Schenckius, 9, 410. 
Schliemann, 10, 152. 
Schneider, Mr., teacher in Apollinean 
Institute, in Elsie Venner, 5, 166. 
Schoeubein, 9 , 292. 
Scholars, great men not commonly great, 
1, 132; scholar's coat of one, 6, 113; 
first scholars, 7, 174; one should not 
be in a hurry to part with his books, 
9, 408; library of one, 409. 
Scholastic teaching, 9, 273-311. 
School-girl's letters, superlatives in, 8, 
361. 
Schoolhouse, New England, 5, 29, 30. 
Schoolmistress, in The Autocrat, turns 
pale at a remark of Autocrat, 1, 32; 
appears to blush, 107; her valuation 
of truth, 117; the Divinity Student 
reads over her shoulder, 135; Autocrat 
notices her paleness, 202; says " bed- 
time " and not " retiring," 208; kisses 
the keepsake of the Old Gentleman op- 
posite, 211; praised by John the young 
fellow, 219; Autocrat's first walk with, 
239; he writes pensively, 246-248; the 
Autocrat's last walk with, 270-277; 
she promises to walk the Long path 
with Autocrat, 277; sensation among 
boarders at her choice, 304; like Queen 
Esther, 308; her wedding-presents, 
311; given away by the Old Gentleman, 
313; referred to in The Professor, 2, 
309. 
Schoolmistresses, 10, 41, 42. 
Schwann, his theory of cell-formation, 
9, 232. 
Science, certainty of, has no spring in 
it, 1, 56; grand airs of, 179; not the 
enemy of religion, 2, 113; and com- 
mon sense, 3, 120; the disturbing 
facts of, 180 et seq.; change cf feeling 
regarding these facts, 181; free dis- 
cussion of, 182 ; humility of, 185; Dr. 
Johnson's estimate of scientific men, 
263; and imaginative art, distinction 
between, 4,108,110; is knowledge, 5, 
318 ; Nature loves men of, 6, 209; at- 
titude of modern, 8, 310; the thought 
of God discovered by man, 331; men 
of, the natural antagonists of religious 
pessimists, 431; scepticism of, 9, 181; 
the topography of ignorance, 211; the 
piece-meal revelation of the plan of 
creation, 251; as an aid to medicine, 
274-277, 289, 290; medicine the most 
difficult, 384. 
" Science mousseuse," 8, 274. 
Scientific men. See Science. 
Scientific periodicals, value of, in inverse 
ratio to their age, 9, 401. 
Scientific wrappers, 3, 123. 
Scotland, 10, 6, 7, 85, 86 ; psalmody of, 
86. See also Edinburgh. 282 
INDEX. 
Scott, Thomas, his " Commentary," I 
6, 233, 235; portrait of, 376; his in- 
debtedness to Matthew Henry, 8, j 
385. 
Scott, Sir Walter, confused with Thomas, 
the commentator, 6, 225 et seq., 233, 
235, 247 ; his " Ivanhoe " regarded as 
a vicious work, 376; his " Antiquary," 
10, 113. 
Scottow, J., quoted, 9, 324. 
Scraping floor with chair, effect of, 1, 
50. 
Scribblers, anonymous, 2, 118 ; feed on 
each other, 4, 24. 
Scrofula, cure of, by royal touch, 9, 3, | 
354, 413. 
Scudder's pond, 8, 153. 
Sculpin, a nickname for the Little Gen- 
tleman, which see. 
- the fish described, 2, 2. 
Sculptor, ancient, 6, 253. 
Scurvy, 9, 267; effect of, on the Pil- 
grims, 9, 323. 
Sea, odors of, 6,77 ; always busy withits 
own affairs, 8, 256; anxiety at, un- 
avoidable, 10, 15. 
Sea-anemones, 2, 145. 
Seabury, Samuel, 9, 341. 
Seafoam biscuit, 10, 201. 
Stances, 10, 172. 
Seaport towns of New England, 5, 13, 
14. 
Sears, J. Montgomery, 10, 179. 
Sea-serpent, 8,167, 168; horse mackerel 
taken for, 2, 257. 
Seashore compared with mountains, 1, 
263. 
Seasons, The, 8, 132-185. 
Seckel pear, cheek having the tinge of, 
6, 25. 
Second childhood, counterpoised by a 
first old age, 2, 66. 
Second natural birth, 2, 243. 
Second sight, 2, 250. 
Second thought, 8, 289. 
Secondary lives, 6, 94, 219. 
Secretary, young lady, procured for au- 
thor while in England, 10, 25. 
Secrets, verse a proper medium for, 1, 
60 ; any one's is open, if waited for 
long enough, 2, 90 ; intimation of a 
great, among many persons, 177 ; it is 
not the secret of love, 180. 
Sectarianism, banished by war, 8, 11. 
Sectional divisions, Washington warns 
against the danger of, 8, 85. 
Sects, exchanges between, should hap- 
pen often, 8, 419; bearing of, toward 
each other, 4, 196. 
Seed, Southern, in Northern soil, 2, 
242. 
Seed-capsule of thought, 1, 200. 
Selborne, England, 10, 104,186. 
Self-abasement, Oriental, 3, 270 ; 5, 
247 ; 8, 309. 
Self-assertion, ladies have little, 2, 136. 
S "If-consciousness, 1, 193. 
Self-deception possible at threescore 
and ten, 4, 31 ; a system of, the dis- 
grace of medicine, 9, 265. 
Self-depreciation, 4, 112. 
Self-determination. See Will. 
Self-esteem, audacious, is imposing, 1, 
10. 
Self-forgetfulness, 6, 150. 
Self-government, the natural condition 
of adult society, 8, 79; meaning of, 
92. 
Self-inspection, perpetual, leads to spir- 
itual hypochondriasis, 8, 397. 
Self-interest, 7, 272. 
Self-love, 7, 138. 
Self-made men, 1, 19; 9, 407. 
Self-quackery, 9, 12. 
Self-repetition. See Repetition. 
Self-respect the basis of reverence and 
Occidental manhood, 3, 270. 
Self-torture, 5, 170. 
Self-trust, faith means, 2, x. 
Self-unconsciousness of individuals and 
of families, 1, 55. 
Self-valuation, 4, 112 ; 8, 233. 
Selfishness, disguised, as a part of doc- 
trine of depravity, 5, 258; children 
at first purely selfish, 321; care for 
one's own welfare hereafter, is a 
supreme form of, 6, 30. 
Semilunar ganglion, 8, 27, 55. 
Seminaries, called young-lady-factories, 
2, 239. 
Seminary clock, at Andover, 1, 287. 
Senate-chamber of the United States, 
violence in, 8, 86. 
Senile dementia, 6, 473 ; of civilization, 
2, 11. 
Sensation, time in transmission of, 8, 
272-276. 
Sense of superiority to our fellow-crea- 
tures, 3, 273. 
Senses, education begins through the. 1, 
117 ; condition of, in excitement or 
trouble, 8, 18, 19. 
Sensibility, excess of, in poets, 1, 185. 
Sentiment, for flowers, 1, 229; de- 
fended, 2, 124; Christianity full of, 
302 ; Christ's life animated with, 313. 
Sentimental journeys must be made 
alone, 8, 254. 
Sentimentality better than affectation of 
superiority to human weakness, 3, 
136. 
Sentiments, as motives of action. 8, 91. 
Separation, social, incompatibility of 
interests a sufficient warrant for, 7, 
299. 
September gale of 1815, 8,163, 164. 
Sermons, effect upon hearers, 1, 29; one 
projected by Autocrat, 8C, 174; hear- 
ers of, entitled to opinions on theology, 
2, 111; a few famous, 117 ; one on 
the dangers of beauty, by Mr. Stoker, 
in The Guardian Angel, 6, 124; his 
famous sweating, fainting, and con- 
vulsion-fit ones, 158. See also Lay 
sermons. 
Serpents. See Snakes. INDEX. 
283 
Servants, one of the serviceable, red- 
handed, broad - and - high - shouldered 
type, 1, 99; in former days, 7, 249, 
285, 286. 
Servetus, name of, might call up un- 
pleasant recollections, 8, 417; came 
near anticipating Harvey, 9, 179; 
damaged by fire, 366. 
Serving-man, New England, 5, 134-138. 
Sets in fashionable girls' school, 6, 268. 
Seven-branched golden candlestick, 3, 
332. 
Seven wise men of Boston, sayings of, 
1, 124. 
Seventeenth of June, why memorable 
to author, 10, 75. 
Seventh son of a seventh son, 4,53, 205; 
9, 5. 
Sewall, Mr., vice-consul at Liverpool, 
10, 18, 180. 
Sewall, Samuel, 3, 14. 
Sex, shows itself in the moral perver- 
sions of hysteria, 8, 339. 
Sextons, cheerful people, 2, 312. 
Shabby gentility betrayed by the hat, 1, 
178. 
Shadoof, 4, 207. 
Shaftesbury, Earl of, his description of 
Henry Hastings, 4, 27 ; cured by 
Locke, 9, 344. 
Shakers, 4, 68. 
Shakespeare, a Folio copy of, with flakes 
of pie-crust between leaves, 1, 79; 
reading of, by different minds, 133; 
on the effect of the moon on the in- 
sane, 8, 212 ; " Hamlet " quoted on 
slang, 275 ; " Macbeth " quoted on the 
memory, 297 ; "Hamlet" quoted, 9, 
376; "Henry IV." quoted, 382 ; men- 
tions cuckoo, 10, 50 ; house at Strat- 
ford, 91, 130; Memorial buildings, 94; 
new epithets applied to, 95 ; why his 
remains are not disturbed, 95, 96 ; 
First folio, 149. 
Shaving made easy by Star razor, 10, 
16, 17, 202. 
Shawl, blanket, 1, 19. 
Shawshine River, 8, 251, 258. 
Shearer, Deacon, in Elsie Venner, 5, 
326, 474, 484. 
Sheep-stealer's fate, 1, 282-284. 
Sheffield, Massachusetts, elm at, 1, 235. 
Sheldonian Theatre, Oxford, 10, 88. 
Shell, murmur of, 6, 77. 
Shell-fish, very minute eggs of, 2, 257. 
" Shell-oysters," 5,109. 
Shelley, quoted, 2, 239 ; 10, 18. 
Shelter, most rudimentary forms of, 8, 
180. 
Shenstone,quoted, 3,328; his "Warm- 
est welcome at an inn," 8,20; epigram 
of, 10, 69. 
Shepard, Thomas, feared for the future 
welfare of unborn babes, 8, 304 n. ; 
teaching of, quoted, 308. 
Shepherd of Salisbury Plain, 10, 111. 
Shimei, as critic of supposed lecture, 2, 
120. 
Shimmanses of Boston, 10, 73. 
" Shipman " of Chaucer, 9, 376. 
Ships, Autocrat's fear of, 1, 205; prom- 
ise of one to him in boyhood, 207; 
one drawn by tug, compared to hus- 
band and wife, 2,289 ; of war, cost of, 
8,8. 
Shipwrecks, men are cowards in, 1, 88. 
Shirley, James, 3, 110. 
Shock, serious effects of sudden, 7, 92. 
Shoes, cost of, in war times, 8, 60. 
" Shoo-fly," some notes of, borrowed 
from Beethoven, 8, 287. 
Shop, displaying perennial articles for 
sale, 2, 231. 
Shop-windows, in London, 10,144, 145; 
in Paris, 175. 
Shopping, 10, 159. 
Shortening weapons lengthens bounda- 
ries, 1,19. 
Shovel, Sir Cloudesley, 4, 296. 
Shrewdness of men who live with horses, 
8, 63. 
Shrine of female saint, 10, 156. 
Shriver, General, of Frederick, 8, 25, 
48. 
Siamese twins, 3, 223 ; 7, 33. 
Sibyl, young daughter of Lord Rosebery, 
her letter to Queen Victoria, 10, 29. 
Sick, the, are sensitive and fastidious, 
9, 386. 
Sick rooms, conduct of the underbred 
in, 2, 144. 
Sickness. See Disease. 
Sidney, Sir Philip, 10, 124, 125; por- 
trait of, 126. 
Sierra Leone, life of native of, 1, 302. 
Sight, unusual remedy for failing of, 1, 
173. 
Signatures, doctrine of, in medicine, 9, 
360. 
Sigourney, Mrs., 1, 8. 
Silk dress, dried-leaf rustle of, 6, 152. 
Silliman, Professor, 4, 16. 
Silver, family, 5, 198 ; nitrate of, for 
epilepsy, 2, 105; 8, 190 ; 9, 188, 441. 
" Silver threads among the gold," 
Italian version of, 4, 123. 
Similia similibus curantur, 9, 42, 51. 
Similitudes and analogies, infinite ocean 
of, 1, 84. 
Simonides, 3, 110. 
Simultaneous intellectual movement, 8, 
84. 
Sin, has many tools, 1, 125; first act of, 
209 ; an old, dead, in secret drawer of 
soul, 2, 91; a function, not an entity, 
3, 306, 307; congenital sinfulness, 6, 
248, 256 el seq.; Doctor Kittredge's 
view of, in Elsie Venner, 324; fruit 
of, is a harvest of crime, 8, 86 ; in 
punishing crime we do not punish, 
360; the subject of justice, 369. See 
also Automatism ; Guilt; Heredity; 
Imbeciles, moral; Original sin; Re- 
sponsibility ; Will. 
Sincerity, dangers of, 2, 30. 
Singers, immediate triumphs of, 3, 113. 284 
INDEX. 
Singing, congregational, 2, 215 ; imper- 
fections of, 216; in the head, 5, 240. 
Singletary, Jonathan, witness in the 
witchcraft delusion, 3, 326. 
Sismondi, 4, 253. 
Sixth Massachusetts Regiment in Balti- 
more, 8, 7,13. 
Sixth sense, in women, 2, 266. 
Skeleton, in the Harvard Medical School, 
9, 424. 
Skin, human, nailed to church doors, 1, 
107; piece of, determines the perpe- 
trator of mischief, 108; saddle-leather 
sort common in Englishmen, 5, 286. 
Skipping stones, 10, 159. 
Skull, fractured, cured by prayers and 
plasters, 9, 358. 
Skunk, pleasant reflections awakened by 
far-dilfused effluvium of, 7, 24, 25. 
Skunk-cabbage, Miss Cooper quoted on, 
8, 139 ; President Hill quoted on, 141. 
Slang, worse than punning, 1, 256; the 
blank checks of intellectual bank- 
ruptcy, 256; sometimes useful, 257 ; 
a sign and cause of mental atrophy, 8, 
275. 
Slavery, an organic disease of the na- 
tion, 8, 83; most pernicious effect of, 
85; the only cause of division of the 
country, 87 ; legitimate effect on the 
whites, 88 ; fanaticism of Southerners 
for, sincere, 105 ; the mother cause of 
lesser antagonisms, 117. 
Sleep, blessedness of, in grief, 8, 4, 5; 
proper amount of, 231 ; of criminals, 
334. 
Small-pox, patient suffering with, 
wrapped in scarlet, 8, 210, 211 ; an 
amiable man rendered quarrelsome by, 
332 ; inoculation for, 418 ; subject to 
irregularities and caprices in its trans- 
mission, 9, 107 ; apparent insensibility 
to virus of, 118; contagion only one 
of the co-efficients of, 123; Farr's 
statement with reference to, 133; goes 
through same periods of increase and 
diminution as puerperal fever, 133; 
havoc caused by, among the Indians, 
315; inoculation for, 345-347. 
Smalley, G. W., renders valuable aid to 
the author in great crowd, 4, 276; 10, 
45 ; at dinner at Mr. Lowell's, 66. 
Smell. See Odors. 
Smelt, 8, 181. 
Smibert, 2, 262. 
Smile, the terrible, peculiar to self-con- 
scious persons, 1, 193; those that 
make wrinkles and not dimples, 3, 
84; without reference to the real feel- 
ing, 3, 44; official, 8, 67 ; of a Boston 
doctor, worth five thousand dollars a 
year, 9, 388. 
Smith, Dr. Edward, on alcoholic drinks, 
8, 221, 223. 
Smith, Mr. and Mrs. Goldwin, 10, 132. 
Smith, Isaac, poorhouse parson, 3, 16. 
"Smith, Captain John, Rescue of," a 
tableau, 6, 278 et seq. 
Smith, Nathan, 9, 350, 374. 
Smith, Samuel Francis, 2, 50. 
Smith, Samuel Stanhope, 3, 166. 
Smith, Soden, curator of the South Ken- 
sington Museum, 10, 157. 
Smith, Sydney, surgical operation pro- 
posed by, 1, 48 n.; his sermon on 
Duties of loyalty, 91 ; his remark 
about a false quantity, 110; contri. 
vance in his pasture, 3, 6; anecdotes 
of, 10, 54, 68. 
Smith, William, the Yorkshire anti, 
quary, 10, 196. 
Smith, William, LL. D., his " Diction, 
ary of the Bible," 8, 417, 418. 
Smithfield fires, are all out, 5 , 326. 
Smithite, Smith is always a, 2, 297. 
Smithson, James, 10, 205. 
Smoking, dangers of, 8, 225, 226. 
Smoky quartz color of running brook, 
5, 46; of a girl's eyes, 51. 
Smollett, 7, 177. 
Smyth, Egbert C., 8, 427. 
Smythe, Miss Florence, in The Guardian 
Angel, 6, 272. 
Snakes, intimacies between human be- 
ings and, 5, 207, 224; charmers of, 
225. See also Ophidians ; Rattle- 
snakes. 
Snap in middle of head, 5, 206. 
Snap-weed, seed-capsule of, 8,90. 
Snapping turtles, 1, 195. 
Sneaking fellows, to be treated with a 
certain tenderness, 1, 219. 
Snelling, W. J., his " Truth, a Gift for 
Scribblers," 7, 5 ; his anecdote of 
Black Hawk, 6; his treatment of 
N. P. Willis, 6 ; his estimate of con- 
temporary authors, 8. 
Snelling, Dr. William, fined for cursing, 
9, 327, 328. 
Snuff-taking, 1, 77. 
Snowstorms, date of earliest, 8 170; 
old-fashioned, 175; averages of, 175- 
177. 
Soap, perfumed, 2, 98. 
Social compacts, end of, 8, 79. 
Social distinctions, 3, 57. 
Social position, consciousness of, makes 
people gracious, 1, 271; intensely real, 
permanent, and engrossing, 2, 134; 
elective character of, 134; settled 
mostly by women, 134; division of 
scholars in school according to, 6, 
268. See also Society. 
Society d'observation medicate, 1, 2 n. 
Socititds polyphysiophilosophiques, 1, 
136. 
Society, tries to grind lives to single 
flat surface, 2, 33 ; high society con- 
tains much real equality, 140 ; hero- 
ism in, 140 ; its love for abundant vi- 
tality, 150; has place for every form of 
talent, 285; ideal state of, life dull 
in, 4, 67; puts its maidens on trial 
in ball-room, 5, 94; vocabulary of 
very fashionable, 8, 274; the greatest 
need of, at present, 349; must pro- INDEX. 
285 
tect itself against the criminally dis- 
posed, 359; conditions of, their influ- 
ence on medicine, 9, 177. See also 
Rich ; Social position ; Wealth. 
Society for the propagation of intelli- 
gence among the comfortable classes, 
2, 56. 
Society of Acclimatization, Paris, 10, 
176. 
Society of Mutual Admiration, 1, 2, 4. 
Socrates drinking the hemlock, 2, 122. 
Soil, its effect on character, 3, 21; of 
England, not worn out, 10, 188. 
Soldiers' graves, 1, iv. 
Solemnity at evening party, 5, 108. 
Solitary confinement, evils of, 8, 345. 
Solomon, 2, 214; temple of, 3, 332. 
Solstice, summer and winter, 8, 136. 
Somnambulism, 8, 280, 281. 
Somnambulist boarder, 2, 168. 
Song for a temperance celebration, 2, 
33. 
Songs which bring tears, 4, 95, 97. 
" Songs without Words," 6, 208. 
Soper, Deacon, in Elsie Venner, 5, 92; 
expresses liberal views as to dancin', 
95, 96; over-indulges in ice-cream, 
115-117 ; his caution in regard to 
Richard Venner, 376, 415. 
Sophy, faithful servant, in Elsie Venner, 
5, 146 ; her suspicion of Richard Ven- 
ner, 201, 202 ; consults Rev. Dr. 
Honeywood about Elsie, 238-244 ; ex- 
presses her fears of Richard to Doctor 
Kittredge, 345-354; tells mystery of 
Elsie's birth, 434; dies on Elsie's 
grave, 464. 
Sorrel, red, 3, 22. 
Sorrow, ornamental, of widowhood, 5, 
288. 
Sortes Virgilianse, 5, 176. 
" Sortie of Gibraltar," Trumbull's pic- 
ture, 7, 3. 
Soul: souls grown white in holy duties, 
1, 202; crippled, 219; has a series of 
envelopes, 241; those of women long 
for atmosphere of affections, 305; 
must look for truth with own eyes, 
2, 6 ; its being of an infinite, instanta- 
neous consciousness, 10; a little secret 
drawer in, 91; conception of how one 
appears, 131; thinks to know the body 
it inhabits, 190; disquiet in, 217; need 
of transplanting some souls, 243; ac- 
cording to Descartes, is in the core of 
the brain, 247 ; surrendering itself to 
spiritual dictatorship, 5, 253; tuning 
of two souls to each other, 274 ; where 
is it during unconsciousness, 390-392; 
loving one's own, too well, 415, 416; 
those of young girls, 6, 73 ; compared 
to river, 74; no age in, 177; a book, a 
child of the, 292 ; a great cause makes 
great souls, 475; man without a soul, 
see Browne, Simon. 
Sounds, their suggestiveness, 1,211,212; 
strange effects of, on some persons, 7, 
89. 
South Downs, England, 10, 133; its 
mutton, 133; its ancient church, 134. 
South Kensington Museum, 10,156,157. 
South Mountain, battlefield of, 8, 37. 
Southerners. See Confederate states. 
Southey, 9,409. 
Scwbugs, as a medicine, 9, 333, 361, 
362. 
Space and time, 1, 266 ; 7, 26. 
Spagnoletto. See Ribera, Joseph. 
Sparring. See Boxing. 
Sparrow, English, 3, 314. 
Spartan boy and the fox, 9, 388. 
Spasmodic cerebral action not clearly at 
evil, 1, 189. 
Speakers, idiosyncrasies of, 4, 297. 
Specialists, conceit of, 1, 9; are like 
coral insects, 3,78; their limitations, 
79; their value, 82; medical, 4, 125 et 
seq.; 9, 352; do not be bullied by, 4, 
148; they may be bores, 156; near- 
sighted, 8, 268; prefer monthly or an- 
nual periodicals, 9, 401; read early 
medical records, 412. 
Specifics, result of the destruction of 
all, 9, 184 ; Dr. Gould's hope of find- 
ing, for every disease, 443 ; benefits 
obtained from the proper use of a few, 
202, 444. 
Spectacles, 1, 173; remarkable powers 
of reflection of, 6, 56. 
Speech, odious tricks of, must be got rid 
of, 1,110; seat in the brain of the fac- 
ulty of, 8, 270 ; freedom of, 9, 206. 
Speeches, little value of dying, 2, 292, 
293 ; Gladstone's speech on the Irish 
Land Bill, 10, 63, 64; one demanded 
of author, at Cambridge, England, 76, 
77 ; one at Edinburgh University, 84. 
Spencer, Herbert, 8, 85. 
Spenser, Edmund, 6, 203; breathed 
more slowly than Prior, 8, 319. 
Spermaceti, 9, 332. 
Spider, the Scarabee's favorite, 3, 244. 
Spigelius, giant folio of, 9, 279, 411 ; 
copy of his " Anatomy " in Boston 
Athenaeum, 342; made the liver his 
perpetual memorial, 412. 
Spinal cord, 9, 243; irritation of, 389. 
Spinney, three Misses, in Elsie Venner, 
5, 92; elegant manner of eating frost- 
ed cake, displayed by the eldest, 108. 
Spires, rocking of, 1, 285; of Tewkes- 
bury Abbey Church, 10, 103, 118; of 
Salisbury Cathedral, 117; deflection 
of, 118; of Strasburg Cathedral, 117; 
of Chichester Cathedral, 118. 
Spirits of hartshorn, its uses, 6, 344. 
Spiritual consolation, desire for, not to 
be ignored in the sick, 5, 449. 
Spiritual dictatorship, 5, 253. 
Spiritual doubts, 3, 148. 
Spiritual nature, an endowment like a 
musical ear, 8, 394. 
Spiritual pathology, 3, 306. 
Spiritual pride, warning against, 3, 336. 
Spiritual standard of different classes. 
2, 121. 286 
Spiritual transparency of golden-blondes, 
2, 229. 
Spiritualism, undermining accepted 
ideas, 2, 12 ; as a Nemesis of the pul- 
pit, 13; has made the destiny of the 
race a matter of common reflection, 
107 ; as a reaction, 9, 181. 
Spiritus vini Gallici, 8, 47. 
Spit-balls, 5, 25, 30. 
Spoken language, plastic, 1, 27. 
Spontaneous generation, experiment in, 
3, 175 et seq. 
Spores of ideas, 8, 46. 
Sporting man, the virtues of a, 1, 37; 
deafness in right ear of, 10, 58. 
Sprague's "Annals," stories in, 8, 409, 
410. 
Spring, 8, 132-150; astronomical begin- 
ning of, 135; earliest flowers of, 139- 
143; advent of the birds in, 142, 143. 
Spring has come, 1, 197. 
Springfield, Massachusetts, large elms 
at, 1, 235; 10, 81; a city among vil- 
lages, a village among cities, 8, 76. 
Sprowle, Colonel Hezekiah and Mrs., in 
Elsie Venner, give an evening party, 
6, 85-117; the morning after, 118 et 
seq.; Colonel shows anger at Silas 
Peckham's thrift, 132,133; other men- 
tion of, 376, 377, 379. 
Sprowle, H. Frederic, youngest son of 
Colonel Sprowle, 5, 80, 89; performs 
interesting experiment with his ears, 
97. 
Sprowle, Miss Matilda, daughter of Col- 
onel Sprowle, 5, 83. 
Sprowle, T. Jordan, eldest son of Colo- 
nel Sprowle, 6, 85, 88, 298. 
Spurzheim, 9, 221,245. 
Squinting brain, 4, 96, 99, 111, 114, 115, 
162, 166, 204, 281, 282, 299 ; 6, 205 ; 8, 
175. 
Squirming when old falsehoods are 
turned over, 1, 113. 
Squirrels eat snakes, 8, 217. 
Stable, aromatic, ammoniacal atmos- 
phere of, 5, 385. 
Stael, Madame de, feelings of, about 
ghosts, 8, 429. 
Stafford, Edward, manuscript letter of, 
9, 330, 331 ; sovereign remedy of, 331, 
355. 
Stage army, people compared to super- 
numeraries in, 8, 73,240. 
Stage ruffian, character in The Auto- 
crat, 1, 53. 
Stafford House, 10, 53. 
Stain, action of, on the Book of life, 8, 
4. 
Standard of judgment, 1, 14; of right 
and wrong, not uniformly applicable, 
5, 246. 
Standish, NTiles, his defeat of the Indi- 
ans, 9, 190; his sword, 10, 123, 124. 
Stanley, Dean, 10, 185. 
Stanley, Lady, 10, 41. 
Stanlev, Lord, quoted, on prison reform, 
8, 354. 
INDEX. 
Stanley, Edward, the surgeon, 10, 7. 
Stanley, Hon. Lyulph, 10, 41. 
Staples, Philip, in Elsie Venner, 5, 229. 
Star-dust, 3, 179. 
Star-of-Bethlehem flower, 2, 247. 
Star razor, 10, 16, 171, 202. 
Stars, double, 3, 73, 139, 317, 346; nurs- 
ery legend concerning, 307 ; in a June 
night, 6, 88. 
Stars and stripes, 2, 87. 
" Stars and the Earth," Eberty's, re- 
ferred to, 1, 265. 
Startling news, self-repetition of, in the 
mind, 8, 4. 
Starvation the natural end of tutors, 2, 
62. 
Starvation-diet of letting alone, 9, 393. 
"State Banner and Delphian Oracle," in 
The Guardian Angel, 6,1; Byles Grid- 
ley comments on issue of, 3-6, 228 et 
seq.; extracts from, 228 et seq., 416, 
419 et seq. 
State House, Boston, the hub of the so- 
lar system, 1, 125; covers less ground 
than St. Peter's, 2, 55; view from, 
217 ; when a man attacks the, there is 
not much left for him, 281; dome of, 
4, 308; 10, 38. 
Statistics: function of statisticians, 8, 
133; tables of, discussed instead of Di- 
vine foreknowledge, 326; work of, 9 
180. 
" Statoo of deceased infant," statuette 
of Cupid mistaken for, 1, 109. 
Stearns, Charles, of Lincoln, 3, 14. 
Stearns, Samuel H., master at Phillips 
Academy, Andover, 8, 247. 
Stebbins, Aliel, the Doctor's hired- 
man, in Elsie Venner, 5, 134-138; 
reports to the Doctor his observa- 
tions of Richard Venner, 343, 344; 
foils Richard's attempt to dispose of 
Langdon, 370-376 ; appropriates Rich- 
ard's saddle and bridle, 378; parleys 
with the Venners' coachman, 383- 
386. 
Steel chair at Longford castle, 10, 128, 
201. 
Steel instrument of torture, 10 , 202. 
Steeple of Central Church, Boston, 10, 
193, 194. See also Spires. 
Stephen, Leslie. 10, 67. 
Stephens, Alexander H., 4, 19 ; 8, 87. 
Stereoscope, deceptions of, 3, 219. 
Sterling Castle, 10, 6. 
Sterne, 10, 7 ; Calais suggestive of, 161. 
Stethoscope, wrong end used by wTise- 
looking doctor, 3, 118. 
Stewart, Dugald, recognized the ability 
of Jonathan Edwards, 8 , 362. 
Stiles, Ezra, his copy of Plato, 8, 409. 
Stillness, vulgar persons cannot pre- 
serve, 2, 139. 
Stimulation, 6 , 249. 
Stoker, Bathsheba, daughter of the 
R»v. Joseph Bellamy Stoker, in The 
Guardian Angel. 6, 12; her appear- 
ance, 13; her devotion to her mother, 287 
149 et seq.; her religious character, 
194 ; marries Cyprian Eveleth, 428. 
Stoker, the Rev. Joseph Bellamy, junior 
pastor, in The Guardian Angel, 6, 3; 
surprise party at his house, 4; his 
excessive interest in Susan Posey, 98 ; 
his sermon on the Dangers of Beauty, 
122; Master Gridley warns Susan 
against going to his study alone, 145 ; 
his invalid wife, 147 et seq. ; his in- 
tense spiritual interest in the pretty 
members of his flock, 147 ; Mrs. Hop- 
kins and Susan visit him, 152; his 
three sensational sermons, 158 ; begins 
to exercise his fascinations upon Myr- 
tle, 159 et seq. ; Myrtle is warned from 
him by Master Gridley, 175; receives 
a curt note from her, 191; preaches 
his convulsion-fit sermon, 192 ; is se- 
riously injured by falling of sounding- 
board, 420; tenderly cared for by his 
wife, 424 et seq. 
Stokes, Professor Sir George G., 10, 75. 
Stomach, involuntary motions of, 8, 
195; and the tongue, 9, 189. 
Stone, Col. W. L., 9, 287, 288. 
Stone, in a field, effect of overturning, 
1, 111; with whitish band, 2 , 247 ; 
a large, to keep wolves from graves, 
263 ; 8, 166. 
Stone cutter, Number Seven's respect 
for a, 4, 215. 
Stonehenge, 10, 110-114; The Broken 
Circle, a poem on, 111-113; litera- 
ture of, 113, 114; probable way in 
which the large stones were moved at, 
114. 
Stoops, charms of, 2, 224. 
Store-room, dark, 2, 188. 
Storm, equinoctial, in Elsie Venner, 
5, 459 et seq.; September gale of 
1815, 8, 163, 164. See also Snow- 
storms. 
Story's " Roba di Roma," 7, 65. 
Story-writing for support, 3, 53. 
Stoughton University, in A Mortal An- 
tipathy, 7, 36. 
Strabismus, cerebral. See Squinting 
brain. 
Stranger, who came with the young fel- 
low named John, in The Autocrat, his 
remark about Boston State House, 1, 
125; attentive to Landlady's daugh- 
ter, 307. 
Strangling, one cannot accomplish by 
force of will alone, 8, 261. 
" Strap," the word suddenly spoken to 
suspected deserter, a means of recog- 
nition, 1, 107. 
Strasburg, Cathedral at, rocking of spire 
of, 1, 285 ; 10,117 ; statue of, in Paris, 
176. 
Stratford on Avon, 10, 6, 60; visit to, 
91-97 ; some boys questioned about, 
92, 93 ; Shakespeare Memorial build- 
ings, 94; hot days at, 187. 
Stratification of the currents of thought, 
4,166. 
INDEX. 
Strawberry, 8, 151, 153, 154, 220; 10. 
169. 
Streets, of Boston and New York, 3, 
324 ; in England, 10, 192. 
Striking-in of thoughts and feelings a 
bad symptom, 1, 134. 
Strong, the, hate the weak, 2, 19. 
Struggle for life, 4, 55. 
Struldbrugs, Swift's account of, not very 
amusing reading for old people, 4, 36. 
Stuart, Gilbert, his paintings, 1, 22 j 
7, 3. 
Stuart, Moses, striking figure of, 8, 
249. 
Stupidity often prevents insanity, 1, 42 
Stylish women, 2, 155. 
Stylographic pens, 4, 298. 
Submission to intellectual precedent, 5, 
417. 
Submit, epitaph of, at Dorchester, 8, 
166. 
Success impossible without opposition 
as a fulcrum, 6, 276. 
Succory, 2, 234. 
Sue, Eugene : " chourineur " in his 
"Mysteries of Paris," 8, 340. 
Suffering, professional hardness to, 2, 
263; may cure ignorance, does not 
change the moral nature, 8 , 307. 
Sugar-bowl, the poetical, 4, 75, 93, 117, 
119, 285. 
Suicide, feelings which conduce to, 1, 
186; averages of methods of commit- 
ting, 2, 166; as a recreation among 
the inhabitants of Saturn, 4, 65; fam- 
ily of a suicide, punished, 5, 228; 
rarely carried out by those who have 
a natural outlet of verse, 6, 232; the 
number to commit, under given con- 
ditions may be predicted, 8, 327 ; in- 
duced by religious excitement, 390, 
416. 
Sulky, a doctor's, 5, 139 ; its meaning, 
140. 
Sullivan, John, his charm of manner, 1, 
21 n. 
" Sumatra correspondence, Our," 1,117. 
Summer, persons in easy circumstances 
suffer from cold in, 1, 256; descrip- 
tion of, 8, 150-161. 
Summer residence, comfort essential to 
enjoyment of, 1, 265. 
Summer schools, 9, 287. 
" Summons, a, for sleepers," sermon, 
quoted, 2, 117. 
Sumner, 1, 2n. 
Sumter, Fort, in 1861, 6, 385 ; 8, 94, 95; 
meaning of the attack on, 114, 116. 
Sun, slight effect of, on iceberg, 2, 288; 
course of, through the signs of the 
zodiac, 8, 135; rising and setting of, 
in Boston, 135, 136; chemistry of its 
light, 210 ; benefit of sun-bath, 209, 
212, 213. 
Sun and Shadow, 1, 41. 
Sunday, Autocrat shows his respect for, 
1,174. See also S ibbath. 
Sun-day Ilymn, 2, 319. 288 
INDEX. 
Sunflower, and yellow birds, 8,150 ; her 
passion for her god, 209. 
Sunsets in Boston, 2, 82. 
Superfluous people, 3, 170. 
Superior men not debarred from admir- 
ing each other, 1, 3. 
Superiority to our fellow-creatures, sense 
of, 3, 273. 
Superlative, American love of the, 4, 
104 ; in school-girls' letters. 8, 361. 
Superstitions, of children, 1,205; author 
confesses to have, 2, 186; no logic 
in, 270 ; not easily banished, 3, 328; 
crowded out by civilization, 4, 254, 
255; medical, 9, 187,188,206, 380,442 ; 
light shed on, by the prevailing treat- 
ment of disease, 314; possible influ- 
ence of the union of theology and 
medicine on, 320. 
Surface-Christianity, good breeding is, 
2, 133. 
Surgeon, hardness in a, 2, 263 ; a tender- 
hearted one, 264. 
Surgery, moral, its brutality, 2, 114; 
invokes the aid of all mechanical arts, 
8, 313 ; specialties in, 352; in the 
Civil war, 352 ; extraordinary success 
in, achieved by Lawson Tait, 10, 99, 
100. 
Surprise-party, 2, 75; 6, 4. 
Susquehanna, the, 8, 49. 
Sutherland, Duke of, 10, 53, 54. 
Su warrow, 5, 216. 
Swans, taking one's geese for, 1, 273; 
stately, 2, 236. 
Swanwick, Miss Anna, 10, 40. 
Sweating gold, fable of the Jews', 2, 163. 
Swedenborg, if be did not bring a new 
revelation, infused new life into the old 
ones, 8, 308; his doctrine of " corre- 
spondence," 9, 408. 
Swellings cured by dead man's hand, 2, 
246 ; 9, 360. 
Swift, author unconsciously hits on an 
idea of, 1, 146; as Cadenus, 2, 89; 
mischance of reading some of his po- 
ems, 4,109; outraged decency, 7,177 ; 
quoted on witty sentences, 8, 275 ; on 
Sir Isaac Newton, 279, 280 ; "Journal 
to Stella " quoted, 284 ; quoted on his 
own genius, 296. 
Swift, Zephaniah, struggle of, against the 
powers of the clergy, 8, 411, 412. 
Swimming glands in blood, 2, 58. 
Swinburne, his epigram on Carlyle, 10, 
139. 
Swinnerton, John, 9, 357. 
Swords, Roman and American, 1, 19; 
naked, King James's fear of, 5, 222, 
223. 
Sydenham, recommended Don Quixote 
to medical student for professional 
reading, 7, 162, 167, 168 ; 9, 293, 354, 
399 ; applied Hippocrates' doctrine, 
8, 233, 234; an "old school ''physi- 
cian, 236; his probable diagnosis of 
case of Christian in " Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress," 416; his prescriptions, 9, 268; 
and the Pharmacopoeia, 281; quoted, 
292 ; what he did for medicine, 343, 
344; works of, thrown away on Cotton 
Mather, 359; prescription of roast 
chicken, 363; still authority on male 
hysteria, 413. 
" Syllabus of errors," 8, 407. 
" Sylva Novanglica," book desired with, 
that title, 1, 236. 
Symbols, reverence for, 2, 292 ; a com- 
fort, 5, 254. 
Sympathetic powder, Digby's, 9,8 et sea., 
206, 279; 10, 58. 
Sympathy, of surgeons compared with 
that of theologians, 2,263 ; brings un- 
expected friends, 3, 154. 
" Symphony concert " of conversation, 
4, 52. 
Symplocarpus. See Skunk cabbage. 
Symptoms, cultivation of, 4, 187. 
Synod of Boston, 1680, 8, 368. 
"Syntax, Dr.," may have been written 
to make fun of Rev. Wm. Gilpin, 1, 
231. 
Systematic knowledge, involves much 
that is not practical, 9, 284-291, 372. 
Tableaux at Madame Delacoste's school, 
in The Guardian Angel, 6, 278. 
Tablets, story of the boy devoted to, 8, 
182, 183. 
Tadema, Alma, 10, 67. 
Tadpoles, effect of dark upon, 2, 242. 
Taglioni, 3,95. 
Tail, a giant's, 4, 154, 155. 
Tailor, English, 10, 145. 
Taine, quoted on Cowper. 8 , 397. 
Tait, Lawson, his great services to sur- 
gery, 10, 99, 100. 
Talby, Dorothy, 9, 356. 
Talent, a little, makes people jealous, 1, 
3; and genius compared, 2, 240; so- 
ciety has place for every form of, 285. 
Talipes varus, 2, 9. 
Talkative, Mr., his place in society, 4, 
156. 
Talkers, the real, with fresh ideas and 
good warm words, 1, 143; apt to say 
unwise things, 2, 18; the best are 
poets who never write verses, 3, 94; 
lovers as, 95 ; occasional talkers, 266; 
good talkers apt to be bores, 301; 4, 
83. 
Talking, uselessness of, with some wo- 
men, 2, 274; its value in helping us 
find out ourselves - not other people, 
3, 2; it should be governed by the 
way in which others will understand 
it, 4 ; conditions of good, 45; philoso- 
phy of, 46; without words is half the 
conversation of women, 6, 9; one of 
the two accomplishments common to 
mankind. 8, 121; talking machines, 
122 ; persons who do the most, do not 
always think most, 289. See also Con- 
versation. 
Talking dynasty, 3, 263 et seq. ; 9, 302. 
Tamaracks, 6, 88. INDEX. 
289 
Tar-baby, in the negro legend, 9, 422. 
Tar water, Bishop Berkeley's, 9, 12 et 
seq. 
Tarantism, Tarantula, 7, 178 et seq. 
Tart, national with English, 10, 201. 
Tartarus of the heathen world, the hell 
of the church of to-day, 4, 254. 
Tartini's "Devil's Sonata," 2,308; 8, 
283. 
Tassels, concealed in some households, 
in brown linen bags, 5, 86. 
Taste, nerve of, has no immediate con- 
nection with brain, 1, 77. 
Tastes, natural, have a basis beyond the 
reach of will, 8, 261. 
Tate, Nahum, eulogy of his masterpiece, 
8, 294. 
Tate and Brady, 10, 86. 
Taylor, Bayard, 3, 325. 
Taylor, Jeremy, his tolerance, 3, 191; 
quoted on constant decay and renewal 
of the body, 8, 199, 200, 266; quoted 
on theophobia, 305; quoted on godly 
fear, 398. 
Taylor, Rebecca, 9 , 306. 
Tea, influence of the afternoon or even- 
ing cup of, 4, 7 ; effects of excess of, 
8, 224 ; afternoon, a necessity in Lon- 
don life, 10, 25 ; a cup of, at the right 
moment, 26 ; strength of, in England, 
28; served at theatre, 68. 
Teachers, the dullest of, 9, 288; inter- 
course of, with students, 393, 394; 
special gift of those born for, 425; 
those of one's youth outgrown, 10, 
164. 
Teacups do not hold so much as coffee- 
cups, 4, 21. 
Teakettles, death of children from drink- 
ing hot water from spouts of, 2, 166 ; 
8, 327. 
Tea-party, at Widow Rowens's, in Elsie 
Venner, 5, 286-328 ; the seating at the 
table, 299, 300 ; maxims for, 301, 302. 
Teapot, literary, 1, 62; history of one 
which belonged to Instructor Flynt, 4, 
iii. 
Tea-table, an overloaded, 5, 301. 
Tears, and laughter, 1, 90 ; old men's, 4, 
30 ; caused by music, 95,97 ; the sweet 
tribute of feminine sensibility, 6, 366. 
Teeth, 2, 46; article of a supposed med- 
ical creed concerning, 111. 
Teetotalism, tweaking the nose of, 4, 
292. 
Teetotaller's changes introduced in one 
of the Autocrat's poems, 1, 47. 
Telegraph and railroads, the nerves and 
muscles of the country, 8, 7. 
Telepathic toothache, possible existence 
of, 4, 17. 
Telescope, in the mall on Boston Com- 
mon, 4, 305 ; Herschel's, 10, 6. 
Temperance, excess better than hypoc- 
risy, 2, 33 ; and longevity, 4, 184 ; the 
first necessary habit of a doctor, 9, 
386. See also Intemperance ; Intoxi- 
cation; Teetotalism; Wine. 
Temperance celebration, song for, 2, 33. 
Temperature, healthy degree of, 8, 208; 
clothing should be adapted to sudden 
changes of, 227, 228; of Windsor Cas- 
tle at 65°, 10, 48. 
Temple, Sir W., favorite herbs of, 9, 
360. 
Temple, the, London, 10, 153,154. 
Temple bar, London, 10, 150. 
Tempora mutantur, etc., amendment of, 
8, 175. 
" Ten Great Religions," J. F. Clarke's, 
4, 196. 
Tendencies, inherited. See Heredity. 
Tennent, Rev. Wm., trance of, 2, 178. 
Tenniel, 10, 67. 
Tennyson, as an example of longevity, 
4, 41, 292; his " Day Dream," quoted, 
287; his " Princess," quoted on wo- 
man's logomachy, 292; his " Walking 
to the Mail," quoted, 308; difficulty of 
reading his "Maud" aloud, 318; his 
" In Memoriam," 6, 223; quoted, 432; 
the greatest lay-preacher, 432; some 
of his contemporaries, 10,44; visit to, 
68-71. 
Tennyson, Mr. and Mrs. Hallam, 10, 69, 
71. 
Tennyson, Lady, 10, 68, 69. 
Teratology, the science of monstrosities, 
3, 223 et seq. 
Terburg, 10, 170. 
Terence, quoted, 6, 174. 
Terms, medical, definition of some, 9, 
196. 
Ternham, Nicholas de, 9, 320. 
Terrible Clock, The, Number Five's 
story of, 4, 169. 
Terrible people, women take to, 6, 159. 
" Terrible Tractoration," 9, 20. 
Terror, The. See Vincent, Lurida. 
Terror, death from, 7, 91. 
Terry, a detective, in Elsie Venner, 5, 
162. 
Terry, Ellen, 10, 30. 
Testimony of the dying to be received 
with caution, 2, 292. 
Tewkesbury, excursion to, 10, 103; its 
Abbey church, 103, 118. 
Thacher, Dr. James, his biography of 
doctors, 9, 352. 
Thacher, Thomas, both doctor and min- 
i Qt"PT* Q QOQ 
Thackeray, 6, 226; 10, 35, 107. 
Thames, Britons' stockades in, 2, 245; 
Embankment, 10, 136, 159. 
Thanks after meat in England, 10, 78, 
130. 
Thanksgiving, 8, 154, 169, 170. 
That Boy, in The Poet, 3, 7 ; his method 
of interrupting a tiresome conversa- 
tion, 63; his conspiracy with Sche- 
herezade discovered, 236; his friend 
Johnny, 281. 
Theatre-goers, their stories more vivid 
than those of men with other experi- 
ences, 3, 330. 
Theatricals, college, 2, 17. 290 
INDEX. 
Theft and perjury in the Cabinet of the 
United States, 8, 86. 
Theile, 9, 220. 
Theologians, their sterner beliefs soften 
in later years, 4, 39; Nature studied 
by, from below upwards, 7, 81. 
Theology, most people have had a pro- 
fessional education in, through hear- 
ing sermons, 1, 29; that which makes 
life hopeless is brutal, 42; recent great 
changes in Protestant, 2, ix.; compar- 
ative, as necessary as comparative 
anatomy, 3, 149; must be studied 
through anthropology, 183; education 
in, should include pathology and toxi- 
cology, 304; atmosphere of, its change 
in thirty years, 306 ; practitioners of, 
who like to treat morbid states of 
mind, 6, 144 ; and medicine, 7, 81; 9, 
319, 320, 358; development of the nic- 
titating membrane by students of, 7, 
81; little more than traditional an- 
thropology, 8, 324; lent the devil to 
the lawyers, 324 ; violates the law of 
homology, 325; whence its dogmas, 
357 ; giving place to anthropology, 9, 
417. See also Infant damnation; Pun- 
ishment, future; Religion; Transmis- 
sible responsibility. 
Theonomy, 9, 417. 
Theophobia, 8, 305. 
Theophrastus, 4, 190. 
Theories, usually in sets like chamber 
furniture, 8, 217 ; old, must get out of 
the way of the new generation, 9, 430. 
Theriaca Andromachi, 9, 282. 
Th6roigne de Merieourt, 8, 338. 
Thimble-riggers, 10, 32. 
Thinking, the epidemic of, 3, 269. See 
also Thought. 
Thinking-cell, an egg the best form for, 
3, 105, 106. 
Thirst, in torture, 2, 305. 
Thirty-nine articles, summarily disposed 
of, 8, 420, 421. 
This is it (a prologue), 1, 45. 
Thomas, Edith, 4, 206. 
Thomas, Francis, 2, 49. 
Thompson, Dr., of Middletown, 8, 33, 
44,45. 
Thompson, Sir Henry, 10, 68. 
Thompson, Rev. William Hepworth, 10, 
72. 
Thomson, Alexander, 9, 220. 
Thomsonism, 9, 367, 414, 415. 
Thoreau, mentions houses buried by 
snow, 8, 175; recognizes the necessity 
of shelter in winter, 180 ; on pickerel 
fishing, 181; in his hovel at Walden, 
183. 
Thornton, Abraham, claims wager by 
battle, 2, 106 ; 4, 13. 
Thornton, Arabella, Portia-like daugh- 
ter of Judge Thornton, in Elsie Ven- 
ner, 5, 102 ; her opinion of Richard 
Venner, 178-181; talked of as suitable 
second wife to Dudley Venner, 281. 
Thornton, Judge, in Elsie Venner, 5, 
102; advises Colonel Sprowle on a 
matter of propriety, 106, 107 ; talks of 
Richard Venner, 178-181. 
Thoroughbred, a, should not be called a 
"blooded " horse, 1, 37. 
Thothmes III., ring of, 3, 111. 
Thou, J. A. de, preface of, 9, 310. 
Thought, may be original though often 
uttered, 1, 7 ; saving bright thoughts, 
27 ; conversation shapes, 27 ; moves in 
cycles, 73 ; a real one knocks the wind 
out of somebody, 113; occasional de- 
sire to stop the wheels of, 186 ; uttered, 
is like an excretion, 196 ; seed-capsule 
of, 199; tlie excretion of mental re- 
spiration, 2, 24; runs in layers, 37; 
scheme of movement of three inde- 
pendent consciousnesses in one mind 
at once, 37 ; continuity of thought and 
action, 38 ; mind among thoughts com- 
pared to circus rider with horses, 38; 
a word the saddle of, 38 ; recurrence 
of same thoughts, 56; multitude of, 
compared with blood globules, 59; 
how one is helped to get at one's own, 
3, 1, 2; loss of its original form, 2; 
some kinds like the blind fishes in the 
Mammoth cave, 2; one feeds on an- 
other, 2 ; mediocrity often given it by 
publicity, 344; pleasure of finding 
one's own expressed by another, 4, 
10; attrition of, 11; stratification of 
the currents of, 166; does not flourish 
in inhospitable soil, 281; a fine flow 
of, checked by a goose-quill, 299; the 
best, done unconsciously, 6, 404 ; re- 
lation of phosphorus to, 7, 235 ; a boy 
finds his materials for, in simple 
sources, 8, 251 ; mechanism of, 260- 
314 ; flow of, like breathing, 261 ; ob- 
servation only extends to, as connected 
with the nervous system, 262, 263; 
mental cud sometimes lost, 267 ; have 
we a field of ? 269; worded thought, 
270 ; underground workshop of, 278; 
some never emerges into conscious- 
ness, 282; radical change in, produced 
by slight material cause, 284; devel- 
ops with the growing brain, 289; au- 
tomatic, continuous flow of, largely 
peculiar to the female sex, 290; in- 
duced current of, 292 ; not a physical 
force because it cannot be measured, 
295; perpetual metempsychosis of, 9, 
372. 
Thought-sprinklers, 1, 27. 
" Thoughts on the Universe," Byles 
Gridley's unsuccessful book, in The 
Guardian Angel, 6, 42, 43; quoted 
by William Murray Bradshaw, 50, 237; 
second edition suggested by publisher, 
298, 366; a "thought" for new edi- 
tion, 354; proposal for new edition, 
402 et seq.; specimens of some 
"thoughts" with notes of revision, 
404 et seq.; large-paper copy of, 430; 
occasional quotations from, 23, 174, 
175, 205, 291, 404-406. INDEX. 
291 
Thrale, Mrs. See Piozzi, Mrs. 
Thread of a discourse lost, 4, 297. 
Three Johns, The, 1, 53. 
Turee-hilled city, battle of, against the 
seven-hilled city, 2, 78. 
Three maiden sisters, the book of, 2, 
230. 
Three wrinkles, the, between eyebrows, 
5, 87. 
Three-story families, 5, 293. 
Three Words, The, 2, 180. 
Threshing old straw, 4, 10. 
Throat-distemper, 9, 347, 348. 
Thumb-nail used in measuring cloth, 6, 
207. 
Thumb screws, 2, 207. 
Thunderbolt, 8, 155, 156. 
Tiber, 2, 246 ; 3, 332. 
Ticknor, George, next door to being son 
of a clergyman, 8, 411. 
Tidal movement of national thought and 
feeling, 8, 83, 84. 
Tige, Abner Briggs's dog, in Elsie Ven- 
ner, 5, 35, 38. 
Tiles, pictured, 5, 144. 
Tilley, Edward, "sounded" with cold, 
9, 316. 
Tillotson, Archbishop, 5, 412 ; his opin- 
ion of the Athanasian creed, 8, 420. 
Time, threatens with the sand-bag of- 
tener than with the scythe, 4, 30; 
annihilation of, by great events, 8, 
13; the great physician, 233; relation 
of mental action and, 272-301; can- 
not be magnified, 9, 250. 
Time and space, 1, 266 ; 2, 39 ; 7, 26. 
Timid and doubting ones. See Weak 
souls. 
Tinnitus aurium, 2, 240. 
Tissues, rending, cry of, dear to woman's 
ear, 6, 347. 
Titian, his portrait of young man in the 
Louvre, 1, 193 ; his pictures at Blen- 
heim, 10, 6; his "Young Man with 
glove," 170. 
Titles, the Poet's passion for, 3, 274; 
American appetite for, 4, 222, 231; 
Americans shy of confessing the im- 
pression made by, 10, 21; sound of, 
pleasant, 121. 
" Titmouse," Emerson's, quoted, 8, 179. 
Titus, arch of, 3, 332. 
To the Eleven Ladies, 4, 43. 
Toads, remedy prepared from, 9, 262, 
280, 331. 
Tobacco, called the Great Vegetable, 1, 
101; its stain may strike too deep into 
character, 103; men tire of, 2, 137 ; 
and longevity, 4, 184 ; as a relief from 
trouble, 6, 249; and health, 8, 225, 
226. 
Tobacco-stopper, owned by the Auto- 
crat, 1, 102. 
Tocqueville, A. de, on slavery in the 
United States, 8, 85, 93. 
Tokens of regard, gratitude of author 
for, 1, iv. 
Tolerance, feeling of, 5, 168. 
" Tom Jones," 2, vi. 
Tomato, 9, 275. 
Tomcod, 8, 181. 
Tongue, the, and the stomach, 9, 189 ; 
tongue-scraper, 189. 
TonnelW, Dr., 9, 106, 123,163, 165. 
Too Young for Love, 4, 202. 
Toothache, telepathic, possible exis- 
tence of, 4, 17. 
Topping, Miss Berengaria, in The 
Guardian Angel, 6, 272, 287. 
Tornado, Great, of 1851, 8, 156; Sep- 
tember gale of 1815, 163, 164. 
Torquay, 9, 296. 
Torque, golden, worn by Elsie Venner, 
5, 99, 159, 358, 457. 
Torture, implements and methods of, 
2, 207 ; thirst excited by, 305; for 
the nerve-centres, 6, 346; an old- 
fashioned form of argument, 380; in 
witchcraft, by miniature figures, 8, 
95 ; steel instrument of, 10, 202. See 
also Rack. 
Torturing instinct, 1, 129 ; 2, 95. 
Tournelle, the, 8, 346. 
Tower, Euthymia, in A Mortal Antipa- 
thy, known as " The Wonder," 7, 41 ; 
her athletic feats, 41 et seq. ; grad- 
uates at the Corinna Institute, 77; 
contrasted with Lurida Vincent, 145 ; 
Dr. Butts calls upon her, 186 et seq. ; 
first meeting with Maurice Kirkwood, 
189; is eulogized to Kirkwood, who 
resolves to speak with her, 253 ; her 
leading characteristics, 254 et seq. ; 
her meeting with Maurice Kirkwood, 
261 et seq.; rescues Kirkwood from 
death by fire, 270 et seq.; visits him 
during his recovery, 278 et seq.; is 
engaged to become his wife, 282. 
Tower of London, encounter of the au- 
thor with baboon there, 10, 5, 150. 
Townley, Mr., 3, 213. 
Towns, esteem in which each is held by 
its inhabitants, 1, 126. 
Townsend, Colonel, his power to sus- 
pend the action of his heart, 7, 237. 
Townsend, Mr., 10, 67. 
Townsend, Solomon Davis, M. D., 2, 
264 n. 
Toxicology as part of theological educa- 
tion, 3, 304. 
Toy, French, directions for using gently, 
1, 80. 
Traceries in margin of drawing-book, 2, 
234. 
Tracts, religious, 2, 110. 
Training, effects of prolonged, 8, 230. 
Trains to dresses, vulgar misuse of, 2, 
154. 
Traitor at home, the, 8, 89. 
Traits, ancestral, in embryo, 6, 26 et seq. 
Trajan, column of, 10, 156. 
Trance, 2, 237; mostly peculiar to 
women, 238 ; instance of, 267. 
Transmissible responsibility, moral 
chaos began with the idea of, 8, 303 ; 
accepted by theology, 325. See also 292 
INDEX. 
Automatism ; Heredity ; Responsibil- 
ity; Sin; Will. 
Transmission of qualities. See Heredity. 
Transmutations, chemical, 9, 215. 
Transparency, spiritual, of golden- 
blondes, 2, 229. 
Transplanting, necessary for souls as for 
plants, 2, 243 ; of ideas, 3, 146. 
Transportation of criminals, 8, 345. 
Trap set by authors to get book-sellers' 
advertisements, 3, 302. 
Travel, certain principles to be assumed 
in, 1, 278 ; emotions excited by, not 
those usually to be expected, 280. See 
also Railroad. 
Travellers of advanced years, 10, 206, 
207. 
Travelling companions, 8, 19. 
Treadwell library, 9, 398. 
Treason, 8, 9. 
Trecothicks, the, in Elsie Venner, 5, 
102. 
Tree-wives, the Autocrat's, 1, 230, 233. 
Trees, in New England, 1, 230; en- 
dowed with life, but not with love, 
231 ; mother-idea embodied in each 
kind, 232 ; an immense one, 234; title 
of a desiderated work on, 236 ; queer 
shapes of foliage, 266; ages of, as 
shown by rings, 286 ; grafted, 3, 165 ; 
the real, live underground, 4, 212; 
their tails, 213 ; forest, 5, 67 ; always 
talking, 185 ; struck by lightning, 8, 
156; in England, 10, 22,189-191; the 
soothing companionship of, 69, 70; 
Tennyson's, 69, 189. See also Apple 
trees ; Beeches; Elm ; Hawthorn ; 
Hemlock; Horse-chestnut; Larch ; 
Lindens ; Lombardy poplar ; Maple; 
Oak ; Poplar; Tamaracks; White 
ash; Wild cherry; Willows; Wych- 
elm. 
" Trees of America," Piper's, 1, 236. 
Trepan, 9, 326. 
Trephine, 9, 326. 
Treviranus, 9, 226. 
Triads, adjectives used in, 1, 85. 
Trial by battle, 2, 106 ; 4, 13. 
Triangulation of characteristics of a 
family, 5, 271. 
Trifle, a confection, 5, 110. 
Trigamy, seemingly advocated in the 
Bible, 2, 5. 
Trilobites, 2, 94; 5, 238 ; 6, 275. 
Trinity College, Cambridge, 10, 77. 
Trinks, Dr., of Dresden, 9, 85. 
Trios, Nature fond of, 10, 138. 
Tripe, begged for by Katharine in 
" Taming of the Shrew," 8, 194, 195; 
digestibility of, 218. 
Tripod of life, the brain, heart, and 
lungs, 2, 260. 
" Tristram Shandy," 6, 275. 
Triumph of Song, one of Gifted Hop- 
kins's poems in The Guardian Angel, 
6, 302, 367. 
Triumphs, immediate, of singers, 3, 
113. 
Trivial indispositions, 8, 2. 
Trois Freres, restaurant in Paris, din- 
ners at, 1, 78. 
Trombone, playing the, with a book, 4, 
295. 
Tropics, recollections of, 6, 26. 
Trot, picture of a, 2, 165. 
Trotting horses. See Horses. 
True Knight of learning (toast to Mot- 
ley), 1, 27. 
Trumbull's " Sortie of Gibraltar," 7, 3. 
Trunk, arrival of, before a guest, 5, 
156; old, in garret, 6, 37, 360 ; old- 
fashioned, 295 ; its contents, 296 ; a 
spinster's, 352 et seq. 
Truth, primary relations with, 1, 14; 
compared to a cube, 116 ; each soul 
must look for, with its own eyes, 2,6 ; 
is tough, 109; iconoclasm, only way to 
get at, 117 ; private property in, 295; 
lost in its own excess, 4, 110. 
" Truth, a Gift for Scribblers," W. J. 
Snelling's, 7, 5 et seq. 
Tubercles, patient knows what it means 
to have, 9, 389. 
Tug, ship drawn by, compared to hus- 
band and wife, 2 , 289. 
Tuileries, ruins of, 10, 177. 
Tulpius, 9, 410. 
Tunes, dismal, 6, 80. 
Tuning of two souls to each other, 5, 
274. 
Tupper, his "Poems," 1, 16, 311; large 
sales of his " Proverbial Philosophy " 
in America, 261 ; Tupperian wisdom, 
271; a poet whom it is unnecessary to 
mention, 5, 58. 
Turk, Maelzel's, 2, 16. 
Turkish ambassador to England wins a 
pool at the Derby, 10, 37. 
Turner, 10, 151. 
Turtle, and his shell, 2, 28; snapping, 
6, 19, 125. 
Tussaud, Madame, 10, 178. 
Tutor, a, starvation his natural end, 2, 
62. 
Tutor, the, in Over the Teacups, 4, 49; 
a philosopher and a poet, 50; talks 
over the two Annexes with Number 
Five, 175 ; reads Italian with Number 
Five, 242, 262 ; their increasing inti- 
macy, 283 et seq. 
Tutor, the Latin. See Latin tutor. 
Twelve - syllable verse, unphysiological 
construction of, 8, 317. 
Twentieth century, we are only getting 
ready for, 8, 350. 
Twins, in The Guardian Angel, adopted 
by Mrs. Hopkins, Byles Gridley's 
fondness for, 6, 47, 97; named by 
Byles Gridley, 52, 53 ; their play with 
him, 108; Cynthia Badlam's myste- 
rious interest in, 169 et seq.; they re- 
ceive the benefit of the bequest left by 
Cynthia Badlam, 426; their name® 
changed, 427; baptized, 429. 
Twins, in the birth of thought, 2, 56. 
Twitchell, Dr., 9, 353. INDEX. 
293 
Twitches, which women give when they 
drive a horse, 5, 93. 
Two Armies, The, 1, 225. 
Two-story gentility, 5, 57, 58, 293. 
Two Streams, The, 2, 153; alleged pla- 
giarism in, 8, 45. 
Two-tined forks, persons born with, in 
their hands, 9, 429. 
Tyburn, awkward burning at, 1, 33. 
Tydeman, Bishop, 9, 320. 
Tyler, Jolin, 8, 32. 
Tyndall, 10, 2, 57. 
Types, of organization in Old and New 
World, 1, 237; of men and women, 
repetition of, met in England, 10,196. 
Typhoid fever, 7, 203 et seq., 261 et seq.; 
9, 266. 
Typhus syncopalis, 9, 203. 
Ugly Things, Old Sophy's expression for 
rattlesnakes, in Elsie Venner, 5, 354, 
434. 
Ulmus Americana. See Elm. 
Ultimum moriens of gentility, the hat is, 
10, 193. 
Ulysses, 3, 323 ; 9, 376. 
Umbrella in London and Paris, 10, 187, 
188. 
Unbeautiful women get more lovers than 
the beauties, 5, 126. 
Uncomfortable people, finally take spite 
against themselves, 2, 272. 
Uncommon sense, 5, 396. 
Unconscious cerebration. See Uncon- 
scious mental action. 
Unconscious mental action, Leibnitz on, 
8, 276, 278; Hartley on, 277, 278 ; in- 
stances of, 278-284; mystery of, ex- 
emplified in act of mental association, 
285,286; connection of motive and de- 
termination an expansion of the doc- 
trine of, 329; growth of knowledge of, 
378, 379 ; study of the individual re- 
duces his acts more and more to, 379 ; 
our knowledge concerning, still in its 
infancy, 9, 246. See also Automatism; 
Guilt; Heredity; Philosophy; Respon- 
sibility ; Sin ; Theology ; Will. 
Unconsciousness, where is mind or soul 
during, 5, 391, 392. 
Under the Violets, 2, 253. 
Underbred people, their conduct towards 
the sick, 2, 144. 
Underground workshop of thought, 8, 
273. 
Underhill, Captain, 9, 334. 
Undertaker, the young, a character in 
The Professor, 2, 312, 318. 
Undertakers, cheerful people, 2, 312. 
Undervaluation of one's self, 4, 112. 
Underwood, Dr., on diseases of children, 
9, 116. 
Underwood, F. H., consul at Glasgow, 
10, 84. 
Ungii'ted, the, in literature, 1, 292; the 
case of X. Y., a " cheaply - got - up 
yo th," 292. 
Unguentum armarium, 9, 6, 206. 
Unicorn's horn, 9, 341. 
Unintelligent Me, 9, 376. 
United Fraction of America, 8, 104. 
United States, one people in the whole 
country, 8, 10 ; political condition of, 
July 4th, 1863, 81; asked to commit 
suicide by the South, 94 ; resources of, 
111 ; an organic whole, 116. See also 
American Civil war ; American Revo- 
lution ; Confederate States ; North. 
Universities, English, 9, 277. 
University of New York, reports of the 
Regents of, 8, 184. 
University towns of England not to be 
compared, 10, 82. 
Unloved, great procession of the, 1, 305. 
Unprofessional experimenter in medi- 
cine, 9, 380. 
Unwise things apt to be said by talkers, 
2, 18. 
Unwritten answers to correspondents, 
4, 310, 311. 
Upham, C. W., of Salem, 9, 357, 358. 
Upper Ferry Bridge, Philadelphia, 8,71. 
Uranus, darkness beyond the orbit of, 
8, 84. 
Urn in which The Teacups put their un- 
signed poems, 4, 75, 93, 117, 119, 285. 
Usher, Archbishop, precise date of crea- 
tion given by, 2, 113, 210 ; 8, 132. 
Uwins, T., engraver, 2, vi. 
Vaccination, 9, 54, 69, 96, 349; 10, 172. 
Vagabonds : queer, old, rum - scented, 
good-for-nothing, lazy, story-telling, 
half-vagabonds, 5, 47. 
Valentine, Basil, 9, 366. 
Valerian, for hysterics, 1, 70; 6, 171. 
Vampires, invalid, 4, 183. 
Van Buren, 9, 287, 288. 
Van Deusen, Miss Matilda, afterwards 
Widow Rowens, in Elsie Venner, 5, 
288. 
Vandalism in burial grounds, 1, 239. 
Vanderpoel, Dr., 9, 255. 
Vandyke, 10, 123. 
Vane, Sir Harry, 10,121. 
Vanity does not die out of the old, 4, 
295. 
" Vanity of Human Wishes," Johnson's, 
quoted, 10, 80. 
Variety, Nature fertile in, 2, 80. 
Varolius, 9, 412. 
Vassall house, Cambridge, 10,105; Vas- 
sall tablet, Cambridge, 8, 161. 
" Vathek," Hall of Eblis in, 1, 247. 
Vatican council of 1870, 8, 407. 
Vaughan, Mrs., of Beverly, 10, 29. 
Vaughan, Petty, 10, 4, 7. 
Vaughans, the, in Elsie Venner 5,102. 
Vauxhall Gardens, 10, 5. 
Veal, a disturbing food to many, 8, 219. 
Vegetation, forcing its way into cities, 
1, 274; frozen interregnum in, 8, 
179; breathing process of, 200; food 
for, 202 ; fertilizer of the human body, 
216. 
Vegetables, in Galen's system, 9, 318. 294 
INDEX. 
Vegetarians, 8, 217, 218. 
Velocipedes, 1, 168 n. 
Velpeau, 9, 428, 429. 
VendSme column, 10, 173. 
Veneering in conversation, 1, 143. 
Venerable Gentleman, the, in The Auto- 
crat and The Professor, 1, 3 ; fond of 
common sense, 14; recalls poetry of his 
boyhood, 99; his white hat is rudely 
treated, 177 ; forgets his French, 178; 
fond of reminiscences, 208; displays 
a keepsake of early romance, 211; 
wedding gift from, of Cashmere shawl, 
312; gives Schoolmistress away, 313 ; 
mention of, 2, 21, 318. 
Venesection, 9, 258. See also Blood- 
letting. 
Venice, New York compared to, 2, 85. 
Venison, digestibility of, 8, 218. 
Vernier, Catalina, dead mother of Elsie, 
in Elsie Venner, 5, 148, 179, 434, 459. 
Vernier, Dudley, father of Elsie, in Elsie 
Venner, at Col. Sprowle's party, 6, 97 
et seq. ; his grief and care for Elsie, 
153, 154 ; his relation to his daughter, 
270-278 ; his lonesomeness, 279 - 284 ; 
tells his love for Helen Darley, 467 
et seq.; married to her, 483, 484. 
Venner, Elsie: physiological basis of 
story of Elsie Venner, 5, vii., ix.; 
supposed sources of, ix., x. ; not adapt- 
able to dramatization, x., xi. 
- the character: first mention of, 5,52 ; 
her appearance, 77, 78 ; at Col. 
Sprowle's party, 99 et seq.; her home, 
141-145; her strange habits, 146 ; her 
disappearances, 146, 147 ; one of her 
wild dances, 147; influence of Mr. 
Langdon upon her character, 184; 
saves Langdon from rattlesnake, 191; 
her strange perversions of character, 
192 et seq.; Old Sophy's anxiety for, 
241-244; her restlessness in the mid- 
summer, 261 et seq.; her room, 266- 
268 ; watches Langdon and Letty For- 
rester, 308 et seq. ; Sophy tells the 
Doctor that no one must marry her, 
349, 350 ; her method of revenge on 
Richard, 360, 361; goes to the school 
after the assault on Langdon, 393-399; 
attends church, 413-418 ; asks Lang- 
don to love her, 422, 423; her sick- 
ness, 424 et seq. ; Helen Darley comes 
to nurse her, 431 et seq. ; Sophy tells 
the mystery of her birth, 435; Lang- 
don visits her sick bed, 446 - 448 ; her 
death, 453, 454; her burial, 456-459. 
Venner, Richard, cousin of Elsie, in Elsie 
Venner, his childhood, 6, 150 - 153; 
returns on a visit, 155 et seq. ; gets 
restless, 159 et seq. ; begins to form 
plan to marry Elsie, 197 et seq.; ex- 
amines Elsie's vacant room, 264-268; 
grows jealous of Langdon, 267 et seq.; 
practises with lasso, 332-334; his jeal- 
ousy and plottings, 334-342; speaks 
slightingly of Langdon to Elsie, 360. 
361; tries to lasso Langdon, but is 
foiled by Abel Stebbins, 369 et seq. ; 
leaves the town forever, 377, 378. 
Ventilation, 8, 213, 214; 9, 195. 
Venus, transit of, 4, 305. 
Venus of Milo, 7, 235 ; 10,177. 
Veratrum viride, 9, 264, 265, 295, 296. 
" Verdant Green," 1, 257; 6, 88. 
Vernon, Fortescue, 3, 29. 
Veronese, Paul, 10,20. 
Verse, seeming antiquity of good verses, 
1, 31; unpublished, 40 ; 4, 87 ; the 
proper medium for secrets, 1, 60 ; ab- 
stinence from writing, the mark of 
a poet, 201 ; writers of, presumably 
inferior persons, 292; commonplace, 
quality of, 4, 77, 313 ; over-produc- 
tion of, 6 , 307; physiology of versifi- 
cation, 8, 315-321 ; relation of struc- 
ture of, to rhythm of respiration, 316; 
" fatal facility " of octosyllabic, 316, 
317 ; heroic, 317 ; fourteen-sy Hable and 
twelve-syllable, 317. 
Verses, to author at Cambridge Univer- 
sity, by Mr. Heitland, 10, 79; at annual 
meeting of class of 1829, 111. See also 
Poems; Poetry; Rhymes; Rhythm. 
Versipelles, 5, 222. 
"Vertical railway," 8, 74. 
Vertigo, caused by corned beef, 8, 219. 
Vesalius, 2, 29; 4, 123 ; 6,141; 9, 178, 
220, 279, 411, 412, 423. 
Vessels, collision of, 2, 56. 
Veto, ministerial, allowed by Saybrook 
platform, 8, 411. 
Viaticum, blessing of, unknown to Prot- 
estants, 8, 404. 
" Vicar of Wakefield," 6, 275. 
Vice, more contagious than disease, 8, 
345. 
Vicissitudes of old families, 6, 11 et 
seq. 
Victoria, Queen, exhibits herself to the 
public, 1, 303 ; as Princess, in 1834, 
10, 5; a child's letter to, 29; her 
birthday, 43 ; author invited to meet 
her at garden-party, 185. 
Vieille fille fait jeune marine, 6, 422. 
Vieussens, Raymond, 9, 221, 245. 
Villages, have the conceit of great towns, 
1,128; attractiveness of a railroad vil- 
lage, 2,246. 
Vincent, Lurida, in A Mortal Antipa- 
thy, her characteristics, 7, 40; cox- 
swain of the Atalanta, 47 ; stratagem 
by which she wins the boat-race, 51, 
52 ; graduates from the Corinna Insti- 
tute, 77 ; Secretary of the Pansophian 
Society, 94, 127,128; thinks of study, 
ing medicine, 104,125 ; resolves to dis- 
cover Maurice Kirkwood's secret, 
120; is convinced that Kirkwood is 
suffering from the bite of a tarantula, 
176 ; writes him a letter, 194; is dis- 
suaded from sending the letter, 199; 
letters to Mrs. Kirkwood, 283, 290; 
gives up the idea of becoming a doc- 
tor, 283; her views on homoeopathy, 
284 ; delivers a lecture on quaternions, INDEX. 
295 
291; engaged to a clergyman with a 
mathematical turn, 301. 
Vinci, Leonardo da, 9, 248. 
Vinegar Bible, many people get their 
Scripture from, 5, 326, 474. 
Violence in the United States Senate- 
chamber, 8, 86. 
Violins, their pores full of music, 1, 
103 ; fifty-eight pieces in, 104; a Guar- 
nerius, 2, 308. 
Viper, not so bad as a child in Edwards's 
theology, 4, 249; 8, 393. 
Virchow, his theory of cells, 9, 252. 
Virgil, 2, 61; 3, 312 ; 5, 176 ; 8, 369. 
Virginia adventurers, 10, 149. 
Virginia's death, 2, 60. 
Virtue, Jonathan Edwards's notion of, 8, 
373. 
Virtues, the negative, lead to emacia- 
tion of character, 1, 262 ; of common 
humanity, 3, 306. 
Virtuoso, 9, 409. 
Vis Platonica or Baconica, 8,295. 
Visceral conscience, 9, 337. 
Vision, resemblance of the act of intel- 
ligence to that of, 8, 268 ; time-rela- 
tion of the sense of, 275; reflex, 9, 
248; physiology of, 249. 
Visiting, breakfast least convenient time 
for, 10, 25. 
Visitors, ceremonial inclined plane for 
getting rid of, 1, 17. 
Visscher, Cornelius, 2, 29. 
Vitality, fashion full of, 2, 136; fond- 
ness of society for, 150; expended 
upon a poem, 3, 97, 98 ; excess of, 
334; the ascending and descending 
scale of, 9, 198. 
Vitriol, blue, 9, 10. 
Vocabulary, stirring up a writer's un- 
sanctified, 4, 8; the lover's, 91; Eng- 
lish and American compared, 8, 172, 
173 ; of some very fashionable people, 
274. 
Voice, generally disagreeable sound of 
American voices, 1, 213 ; sweet voices 
of German women, 215; muliebrity 
and femineity in, 216 ; of a little child 
in hospital, 216; in heaven, 217; 
people never hear their own, 217 ; po- 
tent influence of a child's, 2,45; mys- 
terious woman's voice heard in night, 
174; proves to be a violin, 308; influ- 
ence of, 4, 178 ; not under control in 
sudden and sharp sensations, 8, 330. 
Voiceless, The, 1, 306. 
Volapiik of spiritual being is music, 4, 
99. 
"Voleur," the branding mark of the 
galleys, 1, 106. 
Voltaire, called "wicked Mr. Arouet," 
2, 69 ; Jonathan Homer's external re- 
semblance to, 3, 15; his chapel, 193; 
compared with Erasmus and Rabelais, 
10, 128; mentioned, 72, 166, 168. 
Voluntary actions, automatic actions of 
the secondary kind may be, 8, 278, 
281; governed by impulses from ob- 
scure sources, 315; seeming contingen- 
cies of so-called, matters of certainty, 
326, 327 ; special actions to produce a 
certain effect are neither ordered nor 
noticed, 329, 330; apparent, in excep- 
tional natures, really automatic, 330. 
See also Automatism ; Mal-volition ; 
unconscious mental action ; Will. 
Voting, independent, 2, 207. 
Vox humana of the organ, 2, 308. 
Voyage across Atlantic, 10, 3, 11, 13-18. 
Voysey, Rev. Charles, 10, 197. 
Vulgar people. See Underbred people. 
Vulgarity, expressions of, 1, 28 ; mak- 
ing believe to be what you are not is 
essence of, 2, 154; every people has 
its own forms of, 4, 223. 
Wager by battle, 2, 106; 4, 13. 
Wagon, an old broken-down, 4, 208. 
Waking, pain of, in trouble, 8, 5. 
Wales, Prince of, 10, 34, 35, 46. 
Wales, Princess of, 10, 34, 46 ; the au- 
thor writes in her album, 55, 56. 
Walker, the hygeian humorist, reasons 
for not washing his face, 1, 192. 
Walker, Dr. James, 4, 34; 8, 363. 
Walking, arm against arm, 1, 18; action 
of legs in, 72 ; attractions of, 165; rid- 
ing and rowing compared with, 167; 
against the wind, 4, 187; physiology 
of, 8, 121-131; one of the two accom- 
plishments common to mankind, 121; 
machines, 122, 129-131; rhythm of, 
124; a perpetual falling with perpetual 
self-recovery, 127; one is shorter while 
walking than at rest, 128 ; impossible 
to walk in a straight line blindfolded, 
128 ; amount of, for exercise, 228, 229. 
"Walking to the Mail," Tennyson's, 
quoted, 8, 308. 
Wall-flowers, kindness to, 2, 140. 
Wallace, Dr. Clay, 9, 249. 
Wallop, Lady Camilla, 10, 86. 
Walpole, Horace, his story of Pope, 10, 
34. 
Walpurgis night 2, 164. 
Walrus, Neighbor, his garden, 2, 248. 
Walshe, Dr. Walter Hayle, 10, 157,198. 
Walton, Izaak, remark of, on the pike, 
8, 283 ; his " Life of George Herbert," 
10, 127. 
Walton's " Polyglot," 6, 263. 
War, is only organized barbarism, in 
opinion of many of the youth who en- 
listed in American Civil war, 6, 411; 
war-fever, 8, 3, 4; passion of Revo- 
lutionary times, 7; teachings of, 8 ; 
vices and virtues discovered by, 9 ; 
deprovincializing effect of, 10,11; the 
mint for coining the world's history, 
13; a just, the last link in a chain of 
impulses from God, 92; is a child that 
devours its nurses, 114 ; what it means, 
116; effect of, on doctors and sur- 
geons, 9, 363. See also American Civil 
war; American Revolution ; Confeder- 
ate States; Mexican war ; North. 296 
INDEX. 
War of 1812, 10, 184. 
War of Secession. See American Civil 
war. 
Ward, Mr., vicar of Stratford-on-Avon, 
both clergyman and physician, 8,406 ; 
9, 319, 320. 
Ward, Gen. Artemas, 3, 28; the old 
gambrel-roofed house, his headquar- 
ters, 7, 30. 
Wardian case, the atmosphere is a, 8, 
200. 
Ware, John, 9, 299, 351. 
Warfare of man with natural forces, 4, 
54. 
Wanning-pans, useful in the West In- 
dies, 4, 231. 
Warren, the two doctors, 9, 350. 
Warren, John C., 9, 252, 304, 421. 
Warren, Joseph, 2, 15; 3, 28; 7, 30; 
8, 13 ; 9, 350. 
Warrington, Dr., statements of, in re- 
gard to puerperal fever, 9, 145. 
Warwick, 10, 6. 
Washington, his " Farewell Address," 
2, 87 ; headquarters of, at Yonkers, 6, 
144; foresaw the danger of sectional 
divisions, 8, 85. 
Washington elm, 3, 19. 
Washington monument, 4,102,103; 10, 
195. 
Washington pie, 4, 186 ; 10, 201. 
Washington Societies, 2, 87. 
Wasp, sloop-of-war, expected return of, 
1, 206. 
Watch, meddling with hair-spring of, 2, 
43. 
Watch-paper, the Old Gentleman's ten- 
der memories connected with, 1, 211. 
Watching with the sick, 2, 272. 
Water, in the treatment of gunshot 
wounds, 9, 205, 270. 
Waterhouse, Dr. Benjamin, 5, 165; 9, 
309, 349, 438 ; 10, 157. 
Watering-pot, Number Five's, 4, 218. 
Waterlily, the type of the poet's soul, 
1, 182. 
Waterloo, Wellington's laconic descrip- 
tion of, 10, 55 ; mound at, 195. 
Watson's lectures, 9, 116. 
Watt, Mr., and Mr. Watts, confusion of 
names of these two gentlemen in Lon- 
don, 10, 158. 
Watts, Dr., 5, 57 ; 6, 207. 
" Watts and Select Hymns," 6, 202. 
Waves, remote sound of, 1, 213. 
We will not speak of tears to-night, 2, 
77. 
Weak, hated by strong, 2, 19. 
Weak constitution and devout disposi- 
tion, correlation between, 3, 303. 
Weak souls, we should try to judge them 
fairly, 8, 79; agitation of great ques- 
tions necessary to win over, 80. 
Wealth, durability of, 2, 151 ; foolish 
talk about, 152; rapid redistribution 
in America, 5, 21; obligations of, 7, 
32; proper purpose of, 8, 113. 
Weapon ointment, 9, 6-8. 
Weapons, nations to be judged by length 
of, 1, 19. 
Weather-gage of patients, 9, 287. 
Webb, Colonel, owner of Newstead Ab. 
bey, 10, 57. 
Weber, Messrs., on walking, 8, 122, 124. 
Webster, Daniel, Olympian brow of, 8, 
83; had to change size of hat every 
few years, 289 ; his comparison of him. 
self with other orators, 9, 396; par- 
ody of his speech about Hamilton. 
403. 
Webster, Noah, his " Unabridged " crit- 
icised, 2, 40; his spelling, 41; grati- 
tude owed him, 44. 
Wedding, spectators at, 9, 370. 
Wedding-presents to the Autocrat and 
Schoolmistress, 1, 311. 
Wedmore, Mr., 10, 153. 
Weeds, not too humble for artist's eye, 
2, 234. 
" Week in a French Country-House," 3, 
161. 
Weeks, Master, of Pigwacket Centre 
District School, in Elsie Venner: 
his unsuccessful struggle with Abner 
Briggs, Jr., 5, 24-26. * 
Weight, Englishman's and American's 
ways of estimating, 10, 143. 
Weinzapfli, his jump at Berne, 1, 281. 
Welch, Mr., of Pomfret, reply of, to Z. 
Swift's attack, 8, 412. 
Welfare, care for one's own, a supreme 
form of selfishness, 6, 30. 
Well, drying of, previous to mountain- 
slide, 6, 461, 462. 
Well-sweep, the old-fashioned, 4, 207, 
208. 
Wellington, his gentleness in later years, 
1, 82; said his dandy officers were his 
best, 258; his laconic description of 
battle of Waterloo, 10, 55. 
Wells Cathedral, 10, 186. 
Wens, cured by a dead hand, 9, 360. 
Wentworth, Miss Dorothea, married to 
the Rev. Jedediah Langdon, in Elsie 
Venner, 5, 11. 
Were-wolves, 5, 222. 
Werner, 9, 222. 
Wesley, John, 2, 110; 7, 196. 
West, Benjamin, 7, 3. 
West Boston bridge, 8, 178, 181. 
West India goods, 5, 81. 
Westbury, England, white horse on hill- 
side, 10, 108. 
Westminster, Duke of, Eaton Hall, seat 
of, 10, 20; his stables, 21; as winner 
of Derby, 32. 
Westminster Abbey, 10, 4, 29; visit to, 
in company with Archdeacon Farrar, 
59-61; Poets' Corner, 59, 60; im- 
presses one as overcrowded, 60; the 
dust of, 62. 
Westminster Catechism, 8, 432. 
What we all think, 1, 146. 
Wheat harvest, in New York, 8, 154. 
Wheatstone, moving in parallel path 
with other inventors, 8, 84. 297 
Wheel, an extraordinary product of gen- 
ius and skill, 4, 208 et seq. 
Wheelock, President, 6, 162. 
Whewell, Dr., 4, 164, 165. 
Whipping, may drive a child to obedi- 
ence, not to virtue, 8, 306; may, un- 
der certain conditions, be useful to the 
insane, 356. 
Whips, fascination of, for youth, 3, 273. 
Whiskey, Scotchman's usquebaugh, na- 
tionalized, 8, 223. 
Whiskey punch, 2, 132. 
Whisper, articulation without bleating, 
8, 122. 
White of Selborne, 8, 133, 183; 10,104, 
186. 
White, Kirke, 1, 185. 
White, Sir W. A., degree conferred on, 
at Cambridge, 10, 75. 
White ash, 5, 439; its effect upon Elsie, 
in Elsie Venner, 440, 443. 
White-man's foot, Indian name for plan- 
tain, 2, 235. 
White-pine Yankees, 3, 276. 
Whitefield said sermon was good for 
nothing until preached forty times, 1, 
139. 
Whitman, Walt, 4, 234, 235. 
Whittier, 4, 41, 292 ; 7, 5; influence of, 
on the inherited beliefs of New Eng- 
land, 8, 432; his " The Minister's 
Daughter," 432 ; favorite tree of, at 
Danvers, 10, 69. 
Whitwell's Cephalic snuff, 5, 165. 
Wibird, Mr., former partner of lawyer 
Penhallow in The Guardian Angel, 
6, 349. 
Wicks, three, to lamp of life, 2, 260. 
Widows, a woman marked by nature for 
one, 5, 288; easy-crying, take new 
husbands soonest, 6, 230; Indian 
summer of serene widowhood, 348; 
monument erected by a wretched, 10, 
104. 
Wife. See Wives. 
Wigan, Dr., his theory of the brain, 1, 
74; on duality of mind, 8, 267, 268. 
Wigglesworth, Michael, case of infants 
in his " Day of Doom," 8, 304 n.; 
quoted, 372; both doctor and minis- 
ter, 406 ; 9, 329. 
Wight, Isle of, 10, 68; luxuriance of, 
69; places of interest, 71. 
Wigs, of the New England clergy, 8, 
407. 
Wild, Miss Virginia, the second wife of 
Jeremy Withers, in The Guardian An- 
gel, said to have had Indian blood, 6, 
25. 
Wild cherry, 5, 47. 
Wild creature, a, dormant in each heart, 
2, 94. 
Wilde, Oscar, and wife, 10, 28. 
Wilkes, John, his saying about cutting 
out the handsomest man, 2, 89. 
Wilkins, Lieutenant, of the 20th Massa- 
chusetts, 8, 26. 
Wilkinson, Thomas, complained of, for 
INDEX. 
practising medicine contrary to law, 
9, 317. 
Will, compared to a drop of water im- 
prisoned in a crystal, 1, 86; limita- 
tions of, 89; misunderstandings in 
regard to its limitations, 2, 34; bias 
decides choice of, 35 n. ; steps from 
one moving thought to another, 39; 
who determines the self which is self- 
determining, 4, 312; lacks control of 
voluntary determinations, 5, 220, 225, 
226; habits take place of self-deter- 
mination, 252 ; all large views of 
mankind limit our estimate of its 
freedom, 317; doctors perceive its 
restraints, 323; limitation of self-de- 
termination of, 6, 131; seat of the, 
8, 271; freedom of, 302, 303; is any- 
thing but free, 327; connection of 
motive and, 329; test of free, 333; no 
proper exercise of free, in passion, 
335; the sense of duty a necessary 
condition for the exercise of free, 335, 
336 ; belief in free, will remain, 359; 
Milton's fallen angels puzzled over 
free, 376; similes of Hobbes and Leib- 
nitz on, 377 ; belief in the freedom 
of, itself a powerful motive, 381; our 
knowledge concerning the, still in its 
infancy, 9, 247. See also Automa- 
tism ; Guilt; Heredity ; Mal-volition ; 
Necessity ; Original sin ; Philosophy; 
Responsibility; Sin; Unconscious men- 
tal action; Voluntary actions. 
Will, making a, 6, 30. 
Willard, Samuel, 9, 356, 366. 
Willett, Henry, of Brighton, England, 
10, 18, 47, 90, 186. 
William the Conqueror, 10, 66. 
William III., 9, 3. 
William IV., 10, 5. 
Williams, Dr., on iritis, 9, 255. 
Williams, Colonel Elisha, 3, 331. 
Williams, Roger, practiced medicine, 9, 
329. 
Williams, Stephen W., 9, 352. 
W illiams the oculist, 9, 87. 
Willis, Dr., 9, 412. 
Willis, N. P., 1, 259 ; 4, 147; his resem- 
blance to Hippolytus in the picture of 
Hippolytus and Phaedra, 7, 4; the 
most prominent of the young Ameri- 
can authors about 1830, 5 ; quoted on 
east wind, 8, 151; found ale a kindly 
" thought-stopper," 223. 
Willow whistle, 8, 140. 
Willows, 1, 288 ; 10, 190. 
Wilson, Dr., of Harrisburg, 8 53, 54. 
Wilton, seat of the Earl of Pembroke, 
10, 110, 116; pictures at, 123, 124; 
sculpture at, 124; lovely maidens at, 
124; where Sidney wrote his " Arca- 
dia," 124. 
Wind, walking against the, 4, 187; 
voices of the, 6, 88; bloweth not 
where it listeth, 8, 327. 
Wind Clouds and Star-Drifts, 3, 144, 
172, 197, 230, 258, 285. 298 
INDEX. 
Windermere, 7, 104. 
Windsor, England, 10, 6, 47 ; the Castle, 
47 , 48; the Park, 48; cuckoo heard 
at, 50. 
Wine, of the ancients, 1, 66; a specific 
against dull dinners, 2, 32; its use 
should be open, 33 ; famous vintages 
of, 3, 102 ; lying delusion of, 5 , 278. 
Wink, called a palpebral spasm, 2, 14. 
Winning post of human life, a slub of 
white or gray stone, 1, 96. 
Winslow, Dr., 9, 412. 
Winslow, Mrs., descendant of Ann 
Holyoake, in The Guardian Angel, 6, 
23. 
Winslow, Edward, and Massasoit, 9, 
189 ; on the roses and grapes of Massa- 
chusetts in 1621, 321; on the climate, 
322. 
Winslow, Jakob Beniguus, mural tablet 
of, 1, 280. 
Winsor, Justin, 9, 416. 
Winter, 8, 175-185. 
Winthrop, Prof. James, 3, 224 ; 9, 355. 
Winthrop, John, Governor of Connecti- 
cut, medical practice of, 9, 330-335 ; 
an amateur practitioner, 337 ; his yel- 
low salve, 342. 
Winthrop, John, Governor of Massa- 
chusetts, 3, 224; medical entry in 
his Journal, 9, 313, 314; on scurvy 
among the Pilgrims, 323; doctor and 
lawyer, 330; sends for East-Indian 
bezoar, 340; his "Life and Letters" 
and his " History " cited, 356-358. 
Winthrop, John, F. R. S., 9, 335. 
Winthrop, Robert C., 10, 34. 
Winthrop, Theodore, and the Eighth 
Massachusetts regiment, 8, 10. 
Winthrop, Waitstill, 9 , 335. 
Wisdom, often learned by folly, 2, 13; 
leaks into books, 3 302. 
Wiseman, Cardinal, 9, 4. 
Wiseman, Dr., 9, 354, 413. 
Wit, its essence is in a partial and in- 
complete view, 1, 50 ; dangers of a 
reputation for, 91. 
Witch, portrait of, 2, 262. 
Witch-hazel, the first spring flower, 8, 
140. 
Witch Hill in Salem, 9, 230. 
Witchcraft, Calef's book on, 2, 8; sou- 
venir of, 9; repeal of statutes against, 
106; clergymen rejoicing in the delu- 
sion, 122 ; Salem, 3, 326 ; 9, 357 ; tor- 
turing b" miniature image, 8, 95; 
murders for, largely attributable to 
the clergy, 414 ; agency of the Math- 
ers in the delusion of, 423. 
Witches' Hollow, in The Guardian An- 
gel, 6, 88; vision seen by Myrtle in, 
91-95. 
Witch-marks, 2, 262. 
Withers, Jeremy, son of " King David," 
in The Guardian Angel, 6, 25; mar- 
ried again Miss Virginia Wild of In- 
dian ancestry, 25; his daughter be- 
came mother of Myrtle, 26. 
Withers, " King David," 6, 15; married 
Miss Judith Pride, a famous beauty, 
25. 
Withers, Major Gideon, father of "King 
David," 6, 24, 92. 
Withers, Malachi, 6, 1 ; son of Jeremy, 
25; his miserly traits, 27 ; hangs him- 
self in garret, 34 et seg. ; his estate set- 
tled in favor of Myrtle Hazard, 412 et 
seg. 
Withers, the Hon. Selah, founder of the 
Poplars, 6, 21; his wife, Ruth Brad- 
ford, accused of witchcraft, 24, 93. 
Withers, Miss Silence, her advertisement 
for her missing niece Myrtle, 6, 6; 
her appearance, 13 ; her wrong theory 
of bringing up a child, 30; sense of 
" responsibility " for Myrtle, 78 ; re- 
ceives calmly the decision of court as 
to Withers estate, 409; is happily 
wedded to an ex-missionary, 422. 
Withers Homestead. See Poplars, the. 
Wives, " married maids-of-all-work," 1, 
43; the marrying of three, seemingly 
advocated in the Bible, 2, 5 ; faithful 
little wire of a genius compared to 
tug drawing tall ship, 289; Bishop 
Hall prefers nature before grace in the 
election of one, 3, 304; 6, 195; pre- 
ferred at the piano rather than at the 
dissecting-table, 4, 225; wife of a 
worldly man, 6, 255; duty of a doc- 
tor's wife, 7, 93. 
Wolff, 9, 83. 
Wolseley, Lord, 10, 44. 
Wolverton, Lord, 10, 31. 
Wolves, great stone on graves to keep 
'■hem away, 2, 203 ; 8, 166 ; men with 
natures of, 5, 222. 
Woman's rights, 3, 246. 
Woman's voice, heard in the night, 2, 
174; proved to be a Guarnerius violin, 
308. 
Womanhood, youthful, a garden-bed of, 
4, 267. 
Woman-tamers, 5, 10. 
Women, advice to young, 1, 49; deli- 
cacy in dealing with, 80 ; excellent in- 
strument for a nerve-player, 129 ; their 
praise a poet's reward, 183; ill-bred 
ones morbidly sensitive to polite ad- 
miration of men, 194; all men love 
all women, 220 ; all women love all 
men, 221 ; to love one in particular 
we must first get her image through 
pinhole, 221; finest specimens attract 
those who can afford luxury of beauty, 
260; should be true as death, 271; 
wrong pride indicates low and bad 
blood in, 271; those who have weighed 
all life can give, 276; some are me- 
chanical talkers, 2,30 ; can keep their 
minds detached from their talk, 31; 
creation of, 50; judicial character 
not captivating in, 101; three saints 
among, to one among men, 121 ; the 
Messiah of a new revelation, 125; they 
uostly settle matters of social posi- INDEX. 
299 
tion, 135; intellectual process should 
not be too evident in, 147 ; brain-wo- 
men do not interest like heart-women, 
148 ; elegance of, 150 ; stylish, 155 ; 
the men whom they marry, 157 ; their 
choice of lo/e, 159 ; love-magnets, 160; 
their effect upon men, 177 ; faces some- 
times portray a great secret, 178; of- 
ten their one secret is "I love you," 
180; more religious than men, 209 ; 
effect of genius in, 241 ; subject to 
atrophy of heart, 249; immovability 
of some, 274 ; some good ones have no 
right to marry perfectly good men, 
287 ; happiness of marriage of women 
of genius with truthful, simple men, 
287 ; as listeners, 3,90; their desire to 
please, 91; in social life, 94; their com- 
passion for suffering, 141 ; need faith 
more than men, 186; power of adapt- 
ing themselves to changing standards, 
189 ; belief of, in the love-cure, 272 ; 
on the planet Saturn, 4,63 ; their love- 
letters, 92 ; as doctors, 131; 9, 299 ; 
as book-tasters, 4, 157; do not bear 
transplanting, 177 ; penetrating quality 
of the voices of many Northern, 178; 
their atmospheric rings, 286 ; educa- 
tion of, 288; they grow old in a more 
becoming way than men, 293 ; intoxi- 
cating effect of, 5, 104 ; over-woman- 
ized woman, 105 ; unmanageable kind, 
169; many tortured by a neuralgic 
conscience, 170, 171; often reject men 
because they love them, 181; have an 
instinctive tendency to use unlawful 
means to redress wrongs, 193 ; pathos 
of those who are unsought, 230,231; a 
woman always a daughter to man who 
loves her, 282 ; power of healing sor- 
row of an early love, 283 ; those to be 
feared who cannot find utterance in 
words or song, 341; flat - patterned 
kind, 342; their faith, 391; know the 
meaning of love, 469; talk without 
words is half their conversation, 6 
10; take to terrible people, 159 ; apt 
to be hysterical when a young minis- 
ter is about, 171; tell their love in 
many forms, 223; love the conquer- 
ing party, 230 ; to many, the most pa- 
thetic image in the world is of them- 
selves in tears, 267; decant their 
affection from old bottles into new, 
296; their premonition of coming 
proposal, 323; cry of rending tissues 
dear to their ear, 347; fondness of 
fashionable sort for discovering social 
diamond in the rough, 6, 285 ; fear of, 
by young men, 7, 245; ideals of, 259; 
of Maryland, compared with Yankees, 
8, 32; breast of, the cradle of pure 
and holy sentiments, 91; borrow half 
their tenderness from maternity, 92; 
conscientiousness of, 93 ; sacred office 
of, 112; endure exposure far better 
than men, 215, 216, 227; need more 
or purer air than men, 216 ; born 
atmospheric reformers, 216; law that 
governs clothing of, 227 ; automatic, 
continuous flow of thought peculiar to, 
289; logomachy of, 290-292; milk in 
veins of, sweetens acrid doctrine, 422 ; 
as advocates of Perkinism, 9, 27; 
breeding and nursing period of Amer- 
ican, 295; never know who are their 
contemporaries, 10, 44. 
Wonder, The. See Tower, Euthymia. 
Wonderful " One-Hoss-Shay," The, 1 
252. 
Wood, Charlotte Ann, school-girl, ir 
Elsie Venner, 5, 51, 71, 76. 
Woodbridge, Benjamin, grave of, 1, 
239. 
Woodchuck, 6, 88; one which used to 
listen to piano, 8, 271. 
Woodcock, Elizabeth, buried under the 
snow, 8, 175. 
Wooden houses, a better kind of wig- 
wam, 10, 20. 
Woods, Dr., of Andover, looked his 
creed, 8, 250. 
Woods, life in the, 5, 185 et seq. 
Wood-sleds, creaking of, on the snow, 
1, 212. 
Woodville, Dr., 9, 115. 
Woodward, Dr., on the influence of the 
moon on the insane, 8, 212. 
Wool, General, at Baltimore, 8, 24, 48. 
Woolner, busts by, 10, 77. 
Worcester, Massachusetts, 8, 76. 
Worcester's Dictionary used instead of 
Bible to take oath upon, 3, 8. 
Words, poetry of, 1, viii. ; plasticity of 
spoken language, 28 ; a word the sad- 
dle of a thought, 2, 38 ; worth of, 
41; words not looks win women, 89; 
mean little as compared to features, 
181; certain short ones like Japanese 
toys, 3, 89. 
Words and phrases. Namely : 
2Eolipile, 1, 118. 
^Estivation, intramural, 1, 263. 
" Allgermine Zeiturg," so printed in 
the " Banner and Oracle," 6, 3. 
Androgynous, 10, 12. 
Bathycolpian Here, 1, 71. 
Belluses, 5, 119. 
Bibliothecary, 10, 147. 
Blair-ing one's conversational style, 1, 
40. 
Blo'monje, 5, 110. 
BoOrays, 2, 185. 
Boiled-parsnip blonde, 6, 259. 
Bonnet, to knock hat over a man's 
eyes, 5, 332. 
Bread-basket, technical term in pugil< 
ism, 2, 280. 
Bulbous-headed fellows, 1, 7. 
C-spring shay, riding to heaven in a, 
6, 170. 
Calenture, 1, 245. 
Camphire, 6, 296. 
Carapace, 2, 28. 
Cherry-pictorial, 2, 132. 
Conversational soprano, 1, 214. 300 
INDEX. 
Crispations, 10, 117. 
Cuss, 2, 21. 
Cymbal, a genus of doughnut, 6, 231. 
Damsels (meaning damsons), 6, 231. 
Deodand, 1, 12. 
Donated, 6, 4. 
Down-East, 5, 13. 
Dynamometer, 2, 93. 
Edulcorated, 2, 62. 
Epeolatry, 2, 117. 
Eudiometer, 2,72. 
Freest (New York dialect for " first "), 
6, 269. 
Frflt-cake, 6, 121. 
Fust-rate, 1, 28. 
Geoponic eyes, 5, 166. 
Golden cheese, a million of dollars is a 
kind of, 6, 2. 
Great Vegetable, the, (tobacco) 1, 101. 
Haalth, 5, 92. 
Haousen, in New England, for houses, 
10, 160. 
Haow, 1, 110; 2, 44. 
Holme, 10, 103. 
Huckleberry districts, 6, 202. 
Humph ! 6, 16. 
Interpellations, 10, 88. 
Kerridge, 1, 109. 
Kiss-your-brother, no galvanism in, 5, 
389. 
Lady-baskets (crinolines), 1, 19. 
Lahcoon, 6, 299. 
Ligate, 9, 302. 
Loaned, for lent, 6, 90. 
Loggerheads, 5, 66. 
Luniversary, 1, 49. 
Lyceums, 6, 281. 
Marangs, 6, 110. 
Molasses, 1, 67. 
Millionocracy, 5, 2. 
Mistress Quicklyisms, 10, 38. 
Mizzourah, 1, 138. 
Molossa's (molasses), so spelt in Ma- 
ther's " Magnolia," 1, 67. 
Mouthable, 10, 71. 
Musdum, 2, 97. 
Musidora-ish, 6, 213. 
Natur' and Grace, 6, 226. 
Omniverbivorous, 1, 257. 
Palpebral spasm (a wink), 2, 14. 
Papaii, 6, 274. 
PStridges, 6, 120. 
Patulous fage, 1, 244. 
P'ddose, 6, 81. 
Pimpant, 2, 136. 
Pleasing vegetables, elms called, 1, 
236. 
Polyphloesboean, 1, 83. 
Popped, a hat sat down upon, 1, 178. 
Porcellarium, 6, 382. 
Port-chuck, an inhabitant of Cam- 
bridgeport, 1, 177 ; 8, 240. 
Psychometers, 6, 157. 
Pugil, 1, 77. 
Quadrumanous rough (a baboon), 10, 
5. 
Remember of, 1, 109. 
Saas-plates, 1, 308. 
Sahtisfahction, 1, 109. 
Screeching Indian Divell, 5, 43. 
Sense, all sorts of, but common sense, 
6, 40. 
Shooing hens, 2, 248. 
Slack-water period of prosperity, 5, 
Slippernoose, 5, 373. 
Snappin' turkles, 5, 384. 
Spine of the back, 6, 420. 
Spotting, through blinds, 5, 298. 
Squirt, college boy's term, 3, 252. 
Srub, 5, 111. 
Stoppin' at, 1, 109. 
Sternutation, 1, 118. 
Stillicidium, 1, 80. 
Straightened (said of the dead), 5,455. 
Straw in the bung-hole of the universe, 
2, 24. 
Super-septuagenarian, 10, 206. 
Tabullo (tableau), 1, 138. 
Thank-you-ma'ams, in the road of life, 
6, 170. 
Thunder-and-lightning women, 6,292. 
Tire of all creation straightened out 
for a crowbar, 1, 125. 
Understatement, slight habitual, 6, 9. 
Vaandoo, 5, 83. 
Verbicide, 1, 11. 
View, ability to pronounce, a test of 
Brahminism, 5, 482. 
White plague of the North (consump- 
tion), 5, 140. 
Woman, the, who " calc'lates" is lost, 
1, 49. 
Yallah dog, 5, 35. 
Yes ? a vulgarism in conversation, 1, 
18. 
Wordsworth, his " Boy of Windermere," 
2, 160; 8, 18; seems to have solved 
some of the great secrets of life, 180; 
his picture of old age in " Matthew," 
4, 48 ; use of facts of observation by, 
8, 134; "fingering slaves" of, 9 , 366; 
his lines about cuckoo, 10, 50,52; the 
region made sacred by, 186. 
Work, as a means of deadening the sen- 
sibilities, 6, 250. 
Work-knowledge is in the senses, 9, 
377. 
Working-people, bravery of, 8, 10. 
Works of art in the Professor's room 
enumerated, 2, 29. 
World, not yet ripe, 1, 24; the real, is 
within to those who love, 6, 411 ; the 
latest days are the old age of the, 8, 
287 n., 288 n. 
World & Co., 6, 261. 
World-tamers, 5, 10. 
Worship, companionship in, 4, 258; 
meaning of the word translated, 8, 
309. 
Worthylakes, grave of the, 2, 3, 306. 
Wounded, the, at Antietam, 8, 29,30; 
at Middletown, Md., 35, 36. 
Wounds, hoi by God's presence, 5, 316; 
treated with Weapon ointment, 9, 6 
with Sympathetic powder, 7. INDEX. 
301 
"Wreck of the Medusa," Gericault's, 
10, 16,170. 
Wren, Sir Cnristopher, and the law of 
gravitation, 8, 84. 
Wright, W. Aldis, 10, 75, 87. 
Wrinkles, cheapest coat-of-mail against 
Cupid, 2, 223; the three, between eye- 
brows, 5, 87. 
Writers are like lovers, 3, 35. See also 
Authors. 
Writing, with feet in hot water, 1, 7; 
like shooting with a rifle, 28 ; drudg- 
ery of, 3, 299; by the column, 4, 8; 
charm of, consists in its surprises, 
298. 
W rittle, William, murderer, 5, 224. 
Wrong, first act of, 1, 209. 
Wych-elm, 10, 81. 
Wylie, Sir J., on disease caused by lack 
of light, 8 , 209. 
Wyman, Dr. Jeffries, 3, 178; 10, 183. 
Yale College societies, 6, 270. 
Yankee appellations, 2, 95. 
Yankees, a band of gypsies, 2 , 246; 
pitch-pine and white-pine, 3, 276; 
personified in Silas Peckham, in Elsie 
Venner, 6, 48. 
Year 1809, birth year of Gladstone, Ten- 
nyson, Darwin, and the author, 10, 
44. 
Fes, we knew we must lose him, 1, 26. 
Yonkers, Philipse house at, 5, 144. 
York, Archbishop of, 10, 54. 
York, Duke of, monument to, 10, 194. 
York, England, fine breakfast at, 10, 
82; cathedral, 83. 
Yorkshire, 10, 6. 
Yorkshire groom, his fight with a sopho- 
more, 2, 53. 
Young, Edward, 4, 49. 
Young, Dr. Thomas, 10, 2. 
Young America, let him roll! 4, 238. 
Young Astronomer, the, in The Poet, 
devotion to his work, 3, 59; his lone- 
liness, 140; his poem, 144, 172, 197, 
230, 258, 285; gives Scheherezade as- 
tronomy lessons, 234 et seq.; changes 
his seat at the table, 235; tells Sche- 
herezade the story of Andromeda, 317. 
Young days, boasting aoout, 4, 32. 
Young Doctor, the, in Over the Teacups, 
4,51; talks about family doctors, 124; 
also about medical specialists, 128; his 
admiration for Delilah, 224; seeks ad- 
vice from Number Five, 240; his out- 
of-town patient, 261; takes the two 
Annexes to the " exhibition," 264; his 
engagement toDelilah becomes known. 
270. 
Young fellow. See John. 
Young Girl. See Scheherezade. 
Y oung-lady-factories, boarding-schools 
called, 2, 239. 
Young Lady, who has come to be finished 
off, 1, 10. 
Young men, letter of advice to one, 1, 
289; American, opportunities of, 2, 
283; beauty of Greek, 283 ; courage 
of, 5, 10 ; may get to highest level by 
ten years of unflagging labor, 20; rest- 
less when on their good behavior, 
158; young men know the rules, old 
men know the exceptions, 9, 377. 
Young people prefer the thoughts and 
language of their own generation, 4, 
7. 
Young surgeon, old physician, 3, 119. 
Young women. See Women. 
Youth, flakes off like button-wood bark, 
1, 153; degeneracy of American, 170; 
and age are something in the soul, 199. 
Youthful womanhood, a garden-bed of, 
4, 267. 
Zaehdarm, Philippus, 4, 27. 
Zekle and Huldy, 10, 49. 
Zend Avesta, quotation from, 3, 326. 
Zephyr, 10, 39. 
Zimmermann, his "Treatise on Soli- 
tude," 1, 6 n. 
Zipporah, practice of, 9, 313. 
Zodiac, signs of, sun passes through, 8, 
135; in almanacs, 186. 
Zola, 4, 107 et seq., 251; 7, 177. 
Zwingli, 8, 84.