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 PKESBYTER IGNOTUS. 
 Copyright by Xotmnn. Boston. 
 
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 TRAVEL-PICTURES 
 
 
 TWO SERIES 
 
 ^<^ 
 
 By 
 
 'TRESBYTER IGNOTUS" 
 
 (William Harman van Allen, S.T.D., L.H.D., D.C.L., 
 
 Rector of the Church of the Advent. Boston) 
 
 Wis 
 
 Reprinted from 
 "The Living Church" of 1909 and 1911 
 
 mm 
 
 Milwaukee, Wis. 
 
 THE YOUNG CHURCHMAN CO. 
 
 1912 
 
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 co:miti pkimo 
 
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 D. D. VAIsT ALLEN, LITT. D. 
 
 HV]SrC LIBELLVM DEDICAT 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/travelpicturestwOOvana 
 
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 CONTENTS 
 
 ^^^'i^^ 
 
 Preface 
 
 First Series. 
 
 I. — I'axdey. Isle of Saints . 
 
 II. — ^Xetherland .... 
 
 in. — Walcheren .... 
 
 IV. — From Vianden to Eciiternach 
 
 V. — Einsiedelx .... 
 
 A' I. — St. Gall axu Appexzell 
 
 \' 1 1 . — Chur and ] > iechtex stei X 
 
 VIII. — Gandria 
 
 IX. — Flanders and Zeelaxd 
 
 Second Series. 
 
 I. — The Voyage, and Grasmere 81 
 
 II. — Shropshire, the Welsh Border, and Caldey . . 03 
 
 III. — Lincolnshire, Ely, Rotorua, and Hertfordshire . 104 
 
 IV. — Of England in Generai 115 
 
 V. — An Impression of York 123 
 
 VI. — Walcheren Once More . 132 
 
 \'rr. — Veere and Willemina 140 
 
 A' III. — A Dutch CiixVTEau 152 
 
 IX. — Ostende and Nuremberg Kil 
 
 X. — Munich and the Danube 171 
 
 XL — Vienna and Salzburg ISl 
 
 XII. L\NSBEUCK: THE GlIOST OF SCHLOSS WeIHEEBURG . 181) 
 
 XIII. — The Dolomites and Cortina 197 
 
 XrV. — A Flight Through Switzerland 206 
 
 XA^. — Back to the North Sea 217 
 
 XA"I. — Good Old England 228 
 
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 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
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 Frontispiecp: : The Author 
 
 Guest-House Oratory, Benedictine Monastery, Isle of Cahley 
 
 St. David's Church, Cakley 
 
 A Bruramagen Lad, Cakley 
 
 The Abbot Judging the High Jump . . . 
 "Oldest Inhabitant," Isle of Cakley . 
 
 Redberry Bay, Cakle.y 
 
 Tlie Village Church, Veere, Holland . . 
 Tiny Peasant Maids of Walcheren 
 
 The Lookout on the Dyke 
 
 (;)kl Harbour Tower, Veere 
 
 "Willemina, My Special Favourite, and Four 
 
 Maids" 
 
 Vianden: The Bridge and the Castle 
 Vianden : View from tlie Biltclien Road 
 
 The Crucifix of Roth 
 
 Echternach Abbey. Luxembourg .... 
 Slirine of St. Willilnord, Ecliternach Abbey 
 
 A View of St. Oallen 
 
 Martinstol)el 
 
 Types at Appenzell 
 
 Byzantine Altar (A. D. 500), Cathedral, Chur 
 Cathedral and Episcopal Court, Chur 
 
 Schloss Liecliten,stein 
 
 Clandria and the Lake of Lugano 
 
 The Rhine-Fall 
 
 The Schiller Bell, Schafl'hausen . 
 
 The Road to Rest 
 
 Coming from Church : Oostkapelle . 
 
 Other 
 
 Small 
 
 26 
 
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 ILLUSTRATIONS ix 
 
 Wostliove: The BisliG])'s Palace 72 
 
 Yvonne and Claire 73 
 
 Knitters in the Sun 74 
 
 Zoiitelaiule : St. Willibrord's Town 75 
 
 Grasmere 87 
 
 Easedale Tarn, Grasmere 89 
 
 Grasmere Parish Church 91 
 
 Valle Crucis: West Wall 95 
 
 Dormitory and Garth, Valle Crucis 101 
 
 Tea in the Garden 105 
 
 A Maori Salutation 112 
 
 Allison 112 
 
 York Minster .125 
 
 The Shambles, York . 127 
 
 Bishopthorpe, Palace (if the Archbishop of York .... 129 
 
 "Greeting. ]\lijnheer" 133 
 
 Tlie Harbour at Veere . 135 
 
 The Water-Place 141 
 
 Digna. the Carpenter's Daughter 145 
 
 Willemina in Her Doorway 147 
 
 Wilhehnina and Martina with the American Domine . . . 149 
 
 A Dutch Chateau: "The Castle of the Beeches" .... 153 
 
 Church Tower, Woudrichem . 156 
 
 Amersfoort 157 
 
 A Dutch Darby and Joan 160 
 
 Yvonne and Sinionne 163 
 
 .\ Beguine at Ostende 164 
 
 'llie Market, Nuremberg 167 
 
 Statue of Bavaria, Munich 173 
 
 vfunich Cathedral 175 
 
 Diirnstein 179 
 
 Parliament Buildings and City Hall, Vienna 183 
 
 ]\larble Fountain. Cathedral Square, Salzburg 186 
 
 Salzburg and the Fortress 187 
 
 Innsbruck from Schloss Weiherburg 190 
 
 St'hloss Weiherburg, Innsbruck 192 
 
 A Tirolese Meadow . 194 
 
 The Golden Balconv. Innsbruck 196 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 Pa> 
 
 A Dolomite Glen 
 
 Pordoi, Dolomite Road 
 
 Two Little Ampe/.zd Maids 
 
 A Street in Gandria 
 
 The Rhone Glacier. Fnrka 
 
 A ^^ista of Fribonry 
 
 The Cathedral, Freihuri; 
 
 The Cathedral. Treves 
 
 H. R. H. Marie Adelaide. ( 
 
 Three Walcheren Grace 
 
 Cornelia's Homestead . 
 
 Kathje Milking . . 
 
 A Hertfordshire Lane 
 
 Tlie Farmhouse, Littlemoi 
 
 A Kentish Maid 
 
 Addison's Walk. Oxford 
 
 Laud's Porch, St. Mary the Vira 
 
 irand 
 
 Duche 
 
 in's, Oxford 
 
 s of Luxerabours 
 
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 PREFACE 
 
 These letters from abroad were written ciiri-enfe ralaitio 
 for The Living Clinrch, with no thought of their ever taking- 
 more permanent shape. Scribbled in country inns by candle- 
 light, in the green privacy of ancient forests, or on my knee 
 in railway carriages, they are, for the most part, hasty im- 
 pressions which wonld lose all their flavour in revision. So 
 I let them stand as they are, personalities and all, now that they 
 are gathered into book-form, only asking the reader not to com- 
 l)lain because he finds the result neither a Baedeker nor a 
 scientific treatise. 
 
 Some travellers record all their annoyances, dwell in detail 
 on every disenchantment, and, wherever they go, carry about 
 an atmosphere of censorious unsympathy. Why, then, do they 
 travel ( Friendliness begets friendliness, the Greek proverb 
 well says; and no land will unveil its beauty to such visitors. 
 But let a man shun the crowded cosmopolitan cities, let him 
 traverse leisurely tlie oiicn country with its inispoiled people, 
 whether by Dutch canal or Alpine torrent, and I promise him 
 dtdiglits such as tliose other wanderers knew when Outre ^ler 
 was all a region of wizardry, and every inn-window a magic 
 casement. 
 
 If I write enthusiastically of foreign friends, high and low, 
 grown-up and little, it is becaus(> I have always found ready 
 courtesy, swiftly responsive afl'ection. unfailing honesty and 
 helpfulness, ungrudging hospitality, and am bound to bear 
 my witness, however inadequately. W(^ have still much to 
 learn from older nations; and we must lav aside that blind 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 satisfaction with everything American, which has cloaked too 
 many of ns in bygxme years, and be willing to profit by contact 
 with them. They tell a tale of Father Taylor, the famous mis- 
 sionary to sailors in Boston, that, as he lay dying, one who 
 watched said soothingly: "It's all right. Father Taylor; you 
 will be with the angels soon." And Father Taylor answered 
 faintly, but with a twinkling eye : "I don't care much about 
 angels; I like foil's!" The phrase sums up a wholesome i^hilos- 
 ophy of life. Peoijle are more than mountains, or rivers, or 
 cathedrals and art-galleries ; and I hope that these sketches, 
 filled with memories of little children, may help a little in the 
 good work of an international Democracy, which some day, 
 please God, shall bring all the nations into one friendly fellow- 
 ship. WlLLlA.M IIaRMAX VAX AlLEX. 
 Rectory of the Advent, Boston, 
 Lammas Day, 1012. 
 
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 CALDEY, ISLE OF SAINTS 
 
 Til EKE is ahvajs a spell about the thoiiiiiit (»f an 
 island. \o some of us tlioir names are musical as 
 those of continents lU'ver can be: Colonsaj, Aran, lona, 
 Corsica, Tahiti, Xantucket, Paumanok, Barbados — it 
 matters not in what seas they are; white witchcraft broods 
 over them all. And one does not wonder that religious of 
 manj sorts have chosen island-shrines to be in some special 
 sense holy ground, "comj)assed by the inviolate sea." Off 
 Pembrokeshire, in Wales, there lies such a sacred isle, fra- 
 grant with the incense of Religion for thirty generations, 
 and now, after four centuries of desolation, once more 
 given back to God and His C^hurch : (Jaldey, Island of the 
 Prophets, House of God, Abode of the Servants of God — 
 so the name is variously interpreted. And all these inter- 
 pretations are fulfilled there to-day, as the good Bene- 
 dictines under Abbot Aelred's crosier keep the Holy Pule 
 established long ago by the saint of the thorns and roses. 
 I had known something of the (Community for six or 
 seven years, had welcomed the young Abbot to America 
 at the time of his ordination by the Bishop of Fond du 
 Lac in 1904, and had visited him at Painsthorpe the year 
 following. So it has been a special ])leasure to see what 
 
 <YV?ZWYV^f| 
 
God hath wrought at Caldey, and to enter (so far as a 
 guest may) into the life and spirit of the place, locus 
 heiiedictus indeed, where I still linger, almost ready to 
 
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 '4 
 
 G UEST-IIOUSE OEATOKY, 
 BENEDICTINE MONASTERY^ ISLE OF CALDEY. 
 
 say, Haec requies mea in saecidum saecidl; hie habitabo 
 qiioniam elegi earn. 
 
 Physically, the island is extraordinarily interesting 
 and beautiful, with colours and outlines varied far beyond 
 what its size would lead one to expect. Seven miles round, 
 
 
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CALDEY, ISLE OF SAINTS 
 
 indented by many bays, sheltered on the north by gray 
 limestone cliffs and on the south by old red sandstone, 
 there are rolling upland corn-fields ; breezy pastures 
 where sheep and cattle feed ; sand-dunes covered with 
 coarse grass ; a veritable forest of gorse taller than a man's 
 head, and imj^enetrable — except where Brother John's bill- 
 hook has carved out a tangled maze of truly scholastic 
 intricacy; a sheltered valley where cottages lie close hid- 
 den ; coppices and spinneys that echo to the voices of many 
 song-birds; fish-ponds full of immemorial carp; mighty 
 headlands falling sheer to the high tide ; and, above all, 
 the wheeling, calling gulls, descendants, perhaps, of those 
 that, in the legend, saved the baby-saint from drowning, 
 along this very Welsh coast. By day the merry voices of 
 the orphan lads from St. Benet's Orphanage in Birming- 
 ham, now encamped above the village, are heard as they 
 splash mightily in the sea ; the farmer's five sweet-faced 
 little daughters beam shyly at the visiting priests from 
 the Guest-House. Homeric laughter resounds from 
 Drinkim Bay, where the amphibious do most resort; and 
 always the monastery bell utters its tinkling Oremus 
 fratres at the appointed times. Enchanted, truly ! One 
 sits contemplative among the heather, book unnoticed, let- 
 ters unwritten, any desire for further travel hushed (no 
 small matter, that, to a restless American, victim of the 
 "strenuous life"!). Then the bell calls for Vespers, and 
 one hurries across the tiny stream, up past the ancient 
 village church (built, they tell us, fourteen centuries ago), 
 opens the gate to let the gracious Lady Abbess of Mailing 
 enter first, and presently finds himself in the tiny tempo- 
 
 
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rary chapel of the C^ottage-Moiiastery. It is microscopic: 
 all the other guests, except a Miriield Father and the 
 transatlantic visitor, climb a vertical ladder into a sort of 
 balcony ; and in the stalls below one finds it hard to bestow 
 himself without encroaching. Would that the £1,500 the 
 Abbot needs to finish the chapel adjoining, whose walls 
 are already half-way up, might come speedily ! 
 
 But, small as it is, the service is reverent and stately, 
 and the plainsong exquisitely rendered. Adoremus in 
 aeternum Saiictlssimum 8acram,entum. they all utter, 
 monks, oblates, and guests ; and then the office goes on, 
 with incense at the Magnificat, and Salve, Regina at the 
 end, upsoaring in that poignant aspiration of filial love 
 which has been our rightful inheritance ever since "Behold 
 thy Mother" was spoken from the (-ross: clemeiis, pi a. 
 dulcis Virgo Maria! 
 
 Evensong follows in the village church close by, the 
 English words falling with yet more blessed cadence on 
 our ears than the Latin ; then dinner at the Guest-House, 
 with the conversation veering swiftly from tariff reform 
 to limericks, from Scott Holland's latest sermon to the 
 relative merits of Ostende and Boulogne, wnth a lapse into 
 pure nonsense now and then, rebuked by a voice from the 
 far corner (a lay voice, entendii) learnedly discoursing 
 of "three double swings" and "vesper lights," until one 
 queries audibly whether out of a "spike" it would be 
 possible to make a nail in a sure place ! Then a walk on 
 the velvet turf beyond the round-towered oratory, in the 
 light of such a sunset as even Capri cannot show, with 
 liiffh discourse of sacred thino's before Him Who maketh 
 
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 CALDEY, ISLE OF SAINTS 
 
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 ST. DAVID S CHUKCH, CALDEY. 
 
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8 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 the outgoing of the evening to praise Him, until "the 
 Angelus at Compline doth sweetly end the day" — at least 
 for the monks. The rest of us return to the common- 
 room and tell ghost-stories, until the Warden's gentle voice 
 warns us midnight approaches. So the day passes at 
 Caldey, where the age of faith has returned. 
 
 But another aspect appeared on Bank Holiday, speak- 
 ing eloquently of what made 
 England "Merrie England," 
 l:)efore ever the blight of sor- 
 did Protestantism had given 
 ashes for beauty and forbidden 
 men to serve the Lord with 
 gladness : the Patronal Festi- 
 val, the Pattern, the Kirmesse. 
 St. Samson the Abbot's Day 
 falls on July 28th; but very 
 wisely its observance has been 
 transferred to the following 
 Monday, Bank Holiday. There 
 were many early Masses, and 
 at 9:30 all the jDopulation of 
 the island gathered, thronging the tiny church, for High 
 Mass and a sermon by the Abbot. The service was 
 reverent and hearty, free from constraint and fussiness 
 and pose ; the congregation sang everything, a monk at 
 the organ leading ; and I shall not forget the lilting, 
 heart-stirring singing of ''Hark, the sound of holy voices" 
 to "Aberystwith," or the dear simplicity of the small 
 sandalled acolytes, as they curled up on the altar-steps 
 
 A BEUMMAGEN LAD^ 
 CALDET. 
 
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wliile the Abbot preached of love as the essence of 
 Christian living, and pictured a community wherein all, 
 from the last to the first, should grow to be saints because 
 they loved as brethren. 
 
 After lunch came the sports down by the sand-dunes, 
 
 
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 THE ABBOT JUDGIXG THE HIGH JUMP. 
 
 
 villagers, visitors from Tenby, and fishermen, all partici- 
 pating. The Abbot, mitre and crosier laid aside, was 
 master of the revels, with that sunny boyishness and 
 hilarity which captivates all that feel its charm. All the 
 monks assisted, and the guests looked on with amused 
 appreciation at the potato race, the high jump, and the 
 
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 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 other feats of strength and skill. I fear the amateur 
 status of the prize-winners was hopelessly lost, for I heard 
 a pleasant chinking when the prizes were awarded ; l;)ut 
 what matters that ? Tea followed, in the monks' garden, 
 for everyone, including tangle-haired, three-year-old Vera 
 Louisa, who informed everyone from Mr. Waud's 
 
 shoulder, that she ''was doin' 
 to have tea wid de monks." 
 Everything was devoured — - 
 even the prize cakes and loaves 
 of the morning's competition 
 — by the hungry company. 
 Caldey air is prodigiously ap- 
 petizing, even as Caldey soil 
 is fertile : witness the monster 
 vegetables, and the lovely flow- 
 ers on exhibition after Mass. 
 
 At 7 Solemn Evensong was 
 sung in the village churi-h, 
 thronged even in the porch, 
 and further, with a sermon 
 by an American visitor, who 
 talked of what the heavenly 
 citizenship meant, in that we 
 were followers of St. Samson and of all the l)right com- 
 pany who reign with Christ. And later, when darkness 
 had closed down, fireworks dazzled the children, balloons 
 soared upward, and the three little girls who sat on my 
 knees said, "Dear St. Samson must ho pleased ; we've kept 
 his birth-day so happily." 
 
 OLDEST INHABITANT, 
 ISLE OF CALDEY. 
 
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Yea ! Who shall doubt that Caldey was compassed 
 about that day with a great company of witnesses ? St. 
 Illtyd, St. David, St. Paul de Leon, St. Gildas, St. Dubri- 
 cius, "the high saint," all rejoiced with St. Samson, their 
 fellow. St. Joseph of Arimathea looked down, St. Bene- 
 dict beamed ap]3roval, Our Lady joyed with her children, 
 
 KEDBERKY BAY^ CALDEY. 
 
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 and the King of Saints, Whose delights are with the sons 
 of men, poured out His grace upon those who hailed Him 
 Mirahilis in Sanctis Suis. 
 
 It was one thousand three hundred and eighty-four 
 years ago that St. Samson, born a child of vows, first saw 
 the light, regnante Arthuro Rege. Yet still his name 
 survives, a power for good, in both Britains, nowhere more 
 honored than here, where he ruled in wisdom and holiness. 
 And none who visits Caldev ari2:ht will fail henceforward 
 
12 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 to add to Jbis litanj, Sancte Samsone, ora pro nobis, nor 
 to breathe a prayer for those who carry on St. Samson's 
 work, the true Opus Del, in the isle beloved. 
 
 7^ 
 
 
 

 
 II. 
 
 NETHERLAND 
 
 IT is impossible to find any parallel for HoUaud. I 
 think of Lincolnshire, with its long, low pastures ; of 
 Hampton Meadows, on the jSTew Hampshire coast, where 
 the farmers gather the hay from the salt marshes, in 
 '^gundalows" (gondolas, be it understood) ; of the malarial 
 ex]3anse of the Montezuma marshes, where little has 
 changed since the Iroquois paddled their canoes through 
 its reedy channels. But all comparisons fail ; Holland is 
 unique. "God made the rest of the world; but we Dutch 
 made our own country for ourselves," they say; and when 
 one goes for miles over rich green fields that lie sixteen 
 feet below seadevel, or hears men discuss calmly the 
 draining of the great Zuider Zee, which will add fourteen 
 hundred square miles of arable land to the kingdom, one 
 understands what they mean. Napoleon, seeking justifi- 
 cation for his attempted annexation of Holland to France, 
 described the Low Countries as "the alluvial deposits of 
 French rivers" ; but he had only a partial understanding 
 of the case. I like better the splendid answer of the 
 Dutch Ambassador to Berlin, at the great review of vic- 
 torious German troops returning from conquered France. 
 It was o-enerallv believed that Bismarck cast covetous eves 
 
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 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 Oil Holland; and bis invitaTion to the Dutch Ambassador 
 to assist at tlie review bad tlie nature of a veiled tbreat, 
 wbicb the Dutebinan did not fail to understand. Keai- 
 nient after regiment passed by; and to Bismarck's inquiry ji | fl 
 the Dutchman answered each time: "Fine troops, but ^^F^ 
 they are not tall enough." When the criticism had been 
 passed upon the Emperor's bodyguard itself, Bismarck lost 
 patience and said, "What does your Excellency mean by 
 that remark V "I mean," said the Ambassador calmly, 
 "that we can flood our country twelve feet deep !'' And 
 they would have done it, too, as they did in the days oi 
 William the Silent, had it been necessary. 
 
 Yesterday was Queen Wilbelmina's twenty-ninth 
 birthday, and everybody celebrated. The smallest chil- 
 dren wore orange sashes and garlands ; the Dutch tri- 
 colour, surmounted by orange pennants, flew from all the 
 buildings ; a fine array of troops paraded along the famous 
 Araliel>aan with its triple rows of lindens ; and fifty 
 thousand people crowded the Vredenburg, the great open 
 square in front of our hotel, to hear military music and 
 see the fireworks at night. Whoever calls the Dutch 
 "■phlegmatic" or lacking in enthusiasm, does not know 
 them : it was a passionate demonstration of national ])rido, 
 and loyalty to the sweet representative of the House of 
 Orange. And if it seemed a little absurd to credit the 
 young wife of Duke Henry of Mecklenburg-Schwcrin with 
 all the good deeds of her far-off ancestors ; if one might 
 have desired something else by way of government for 
 the land where their High Mightinesses the States-General 
 first showed the world what a federal republic could do: 
 
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NETHERLAND 
 
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 still, there was a touch of idealism and roniauce about it 
 all which was not luipleasing. 
 
 To-day, all has settled down to its wonted course; 
 canal-boats are poled leisurely along the Oude Gracht ; the 
 tish-market is crowded; tiny, crowded tram-cars jingle 
 along the crooked streets ; wooden shoes clang on the spot- 
 less brick j^avement; white-capped housemaids work as 
 they never do in America, alas ! And the grey Cathedral 
 tower looks down from its three hundred and thirty-eight 
 feet much as it did nearly three centuries ago when an 
 ancestor of my own set sail from Utrecht in the Gilded 
 Beaver, for IvTew Amsterdam and Beverwyck. The tower 
 stands alone ; for back in the seventeenth century a hurri- 
 cane blew down the nave of the church, which has never 
 been rebuilt. An ojDen square separates the tower from 
 the choir and transepts, which were patched up after the 
 ruined nave had been cleared away ; and when one enters, 
 and sees how hideous pews and whitewash deface and 
 degrade all that is left, one could almost wish that the 
 destruction had been complete. The line old cloisters con- 
 nect the church with the university, which is a year 
 younger than Harvard, and has seven hundred and iifty 
 students. Utrecht used to be a walled city ; but the old 
 fortifications have given place to handsome boulevards and 
 promenades, adorned with flowers and trees ; and as I 
 looked down on the red-tiled roofs of the city, from th(^ 
 tower, it was enriched with a broad green cincture that 
 testified to undisturbed peace, such as old times seldom 
 knew. 
 
 Nine miles away lies the little town of Zeist, j(»ined 
 
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 i,-v7iNAA^^y7 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 to Utrecht bv a street-car line ; and J wish you could make 
 that journey! The road is paved all its length Avith brick, 
 and lined with magnificent rows of moss-covered beeches ; 
 hundreds of black-and-white cattle pasture in the vividly 
 green fields; country-houses more homelike than those of 
 England are set among wonderful flower-beds, on every 
 side ; and there is not a trace of poverty or uncleanliness 
 all the way. The Dutch roads put an American to shame ; 
 for the worst of them are macadamized as well as our 
 state roads, while the principal highways are paved their 
 whole length, even in the open country. And everywhere 
 stretch stately lines of trees, relieving the monotony of 
 the wide, level pastures ; while the brown sails of vessels 
 aj)pear unexpectedly on all sides, moving along the net- 
 work of canals. 
 
 More old-world costume survives here than anywhere 
 else in Western Europe, I think. We went over to the 
 Island of Marken from Amsterdam, the (^ther day, and 
 found a community of perhaps two thousand people, as 
 separate and distinct in dress, customs, and all else save 
 language, as if it belonged to a different planet. The men 
 are fishermen, and wear vast, voluminous knee-breeches, 
 double-breasted jackets, round caps, coloured stockings, and 
 (of course) wooden shoes; but the women are even more 
 peculiarly attired. If a mere man may attempt to describe 
 such things, they wear dark skirts, with In-ight aprons, a 
 "body" of striped calico, with dark over-sleeves coming 
 above the elbows, and a sort of breast-plate (is "plastron" 
 the correct name?) of brilliantly figured calico. Their 
 hair is clip]H'd, except for a pair of long curls which hang 
 
 m 
 
 ^'{fC 
 
 wvyr? 
 

 in front of the ears ; and a close tnrban covers the head, 
 straight ''bangs" alone appearing from nnder it. All the 
 islanders are connected by marriage ; and there is in con- 
 sequence a very general family resemblance. I never saw 
 so many vast, cavernons, rongh-hewn months in my life 
 as there: the whole lower jaw seems to fall away when 
 they are opened. Across the Gouw Zee, a few miles away, 
 lies Volendam, another fishing village on the mainland, 
 where the costnmes, though just as strange, are quite 
 different. Every village boasts its own peculiar pattern 
 of head-dress for the women, often made of silver-gilt, tit- 
 ting closely to the head and with lace caps to cover it ; and 
 an expert can readily identify each by the cut of the lace, 
 or the shape of the metal. In this, as always, the women 
 are much more conservative than the men ; while the upper 
 and middle classes dress in that ugly and commonplace 
 fashion which a prosaic civilization prescribes for all its 
 victims, whether .in Holland or America. 
 
 I have journeyed lately through Guelderland, along 
 roads which very few foreigners ever travel. Beyond 
 Zeist and Driebergen a steam-tramway runs across 
 country, right through the lovely village streets, and by 
 the bank of the Rhine to Arnhem. It is quite hilly, with 
 long stretches of moorlands, purple with heather ; ever- 
 greens diversify the beech forests ; the air is more bracing ; 
 and I fancied T saw a finer cast of countenances among 
 the people. It has always been a problem where our 
 American ]')('n])l(' got their ide;i of the village, with 
 
 .^^l 
 
 ''^5^V~^^\'^\D(5'V"^.r^'='j£^''v''^ff-^^^ 
 

 FRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 detached houses each in its own garden and lawn, and all 
 embowered in shade. It certainly did not come from the 
 British Isles, nor from France or Germany ; and, as I 
 rejoiced in the exquisite beauty of the little communities 
 of Guelderland, I was glad to acknowledge another debt 
 of gratitude to Holland. 
 
 I'm not writing a chapter out of a guide-book ; sc* I 
 spare you details. But I wish you could have seen the 
 splendid church tower at Rhenen, erected in a memorable 
 year, 1492. The Dutch churches, however, are very dis- 
 appointing inside. Built, for the most part, of brick, and 
 intended for the glorious worshijD of the ancient ( Iiurch, 
 they are now marred and defaced in a way to hreak one's 
 heart. Religious bitterness raged here fearfully during 
 the long wars with Spain, when Alva's men and the 
 Iconoclasts vied with one another in atrocities ; and the 
 churches all suifered. The "Reformers" broke down the 
 carved work of God's House with axes and hannners, as 
 the Psalmist had foretold of them : all the beauty of fresco 
 and inlay was obscured under hideous whitewash ; and 
 now the aisles, transepts, and chancels are desolate waste 
 places, used for luml)er-rooms, while oidy the naves, clut- 
 tered with high-backed pews and dominated by gigantic 
 pulpits, are used on Sunday. All the rest of the week the 
 churches are locked u}). It is no wonder that of hite years 
 there has been a marked reacti<in t(»\vards the ( *atholicism 
 of the only kind common here; for Dutch Calvinism is 
 colder and more dreadful than any form known in 
 America since the nineteenth century began. But this is 
 not a theological treatise, either, I must remind mvsclf. 
 
 Cr^'V"^ 
 
M 
 
 From Ariilieni I caiiic by train to The iiagiic, surely 
 one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, and ( at least 
 since 1899 and the Peace Congress) one of the most 
 famous. It is not veiy large, having onlv al)out two 
 hundred and thirty thousand inhabitants ; but as the seat 
 of the Dutch Court and Parliament, and as the home of 
 the new International Tribunal which Carnegie's millions 
 are to house so handsomely, it has a special importance, 
 while the unspeakably beautiful forests on either side, 
 the lovely country-seats, the rich meadows, and the fresh 
 breezes from the Xorth Sea, only two miles away at 
 Scheveningen, all combine to make it preeminent among 
 Dutch cities. Our sea-coast has nothing comparable wuth 
 the splendid boulevard at Scheveningen; and even Marble- 
 head and Gloucester at their quaintest are not so odd and 
 old-time as the fishermen's quarter there. To the south 
 lies Delft, famous for its blue faience, and as the burial- 
 place of the great Prince of Orange, William the Silent. 
 I stood by his grave to-day, in the '"^ew Church'' (so 
 called because it was built in 1396, a century later than 
 the ''Old Church" of Delft), and afterwards visited the 
 Prinsen-hof, where the bullet-marks on the wall show 
 where he was assassinated in 1584. ^orth of The Hague 
 is Leiden, which the Spaniards besieged so long in vain. 
 You remember, perhaps, that when the Spanish soldiers 
 mocked the valiant defenders as "cat-eaters" because of 
 the extremities to which lack of food had brought them, 
 the burgomaster answered : "Yes, we eat eats, and are 
 willing to eat dogs and rats, if need be. When they are 
 gone, we will cut otf our left arms and feed on them, so as 
 
to be strengtbeued a little longer for tbe defence of 
 Leiden!" And wben, at last, tbe discomfited Spaniards 
 fled, and William tbe Silent offered Leiden wbatever re- 
 ward it desired for its gallantry, tbe men of Leiden, in- 
 stead of asking for a remission of taxes, demanded tbe 
 foundation of a university. 
 
 We journey soutbward from bere, into tbe least fre- 
 quented and most primitive province of tbe iSTetberlands, 
 Zeeland, ancient borne of tbe Sea-Beggars. If balf tbe 
 promises tbey make concerning it are fulfilled, I sball bave 
 mucb to sbare witli you all. 
 
 Till tben, Dag, Mljnhecren. as we say in Holland. 
 
^^;s<)ypsssro^ 
 
 
 vyim 
 
 III. 
 
 WALCHEREN 
 
 
 ^ TF one has found an enchanted land, so that he can 
 
 ^' A thenceforth say Ef ego in Arcadia ri.ri. ought he to 
 
 0r;; _ kee]) the secret (.)f its existence for a ]:)eculiar possession, 
 
 
 THE VILLAGE CHURCH^ VEERE, HOLLAND. 
 
 or rather to initiate others, that they, too, may travel that 
 
 way and rejoice with him ? Of course, on high social 
 
 grounds, there is no doubt that the second course is prefer- 
 
 r-(;>-'"' able or<1iuarilv; luit the charm is so fiigiti\"('. and so much 
 
 iwmMif^ 
 
 ^^^S^'^^s-'^^^^r^^^^'S^'^^^&^^^^V^ 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 of the joj lies in that it is "a garden enclosed," that one 
 onght to consider carefnllv what he does. 
 
 For example, I told yon alxnit Lnxendjonrg ; and no 
 harm has resnlted, becanse the readers of The Liring 
 CJinrcli are a select company: I never wonld have dared 
 to point ont the road that leads to Vianden and peace, in 
 the colnmns of a daily paper. So, now, I propose to share 
 another secret with yon ; and, if ever we meet, we shall 
 have a pass- word to exchange, whispered so that the pro- 
 fane vnlgar shall hear no syllable of it. It is WalcJiereii. 
 
 I write from a qnaint old towered inn overhanging an 
 Xy^ arm of the N^orth Sea, and guarding the harbour-month (_)f 
 Veere. Once, when Veere was a prosperous city, with 
 'l/^ eighty vessels clearing daily, and all the wool trade of 
 Scotland with the continent centered here, there was a 
 second tower on the other side of the harbour, with ware- 
 houses and palaces clustered round it ; and the two towers 
 were the device on Veere's arms. But as, years before, 
 Kampon, Veere's predecessor, just across the water on 
 the next island, had disap^Dcared in a night, some new- 
 yawning abyss swallowing it up, so half of Veere van- 
 ished likewise; and since then the Kampveersche Toren 
 has stood solitary, watching over a glorious past, with only 
 a few fragments left to show what greatness once was here. 
 A few artists frequent it, since Boughton discovered it 
 thirty years ago; now and then a Frenchman, who has 
 j2^, read Henri Havard's Heart of Holland, finds his way 
 here. But the "tripper" is happily al:)sent ; the Cook's 
 tourist knows it not ; the loud-voiced, hurrying, money- 
 ffettino' Philistine who makes one blush for his native land 
 
 r^^n 
 
 i 
 
 rsjv^,''^/yop^jsAAA^i''r''T"nf^^SAAA^"*' 
 
 )Y?..T 
 
 r-^.s.-A.A y V7 >y\/\A/ynr- 
 

 «.j M'^i Vf--. 1^ • IXT ■>,'^.;^,^.^-'^ ''^^''>{-'^i^.^ ■'""!' T' 
 
 
 OS 
 
 WALCHEREN 
 
 23 
 
 ^ 
 
 TINY PEASANT MAIDS OF WALCHEREX. 
 
 wyvr 
 
 in'ri<vy>^on;w)v?2r(\yv:)::^n 
 
 t?l 
 
 .•;d 
 
 03 
 
 fiS 
 
 
 
24 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 liiiJs nothing t(» draw him here (])i'ais(' the saints, and 
 specially good St. AVillibrord, ^Vpostlo (_)f Waleheren I ). 
 And one can meditate serenely, with no other distnrhance 
 than the sweet salntations <:»f tiny peasant-maids who l)l<is- 
 som round like flowers, in the loveliest costume ever de- 
 signed to retrieve Mother Eve's transgression. (I daren't 
 undertake to describe it ; l)ut Willemina, my special fa- 
 V(>nrite shown here in the midst of fonr other small maids 
 on their way t(_» school, wears it irresistibh^ ) 
 
 Veere is the consummation of Waleheren, as Wal- 
 eheren of Zeeland, and Zeeland of the whole King<lom. 
 Yon may renieml>er the Frenchman who reasoned thus: 
 "France is the hrst nation of the world; Paris is the chief 
 city of France; the Eitz is the l)est hotcd in Paris; Suite A 
 is the most nmguifieent in the Eitz ; I occupy Suite A : 
 rrgo. I am the central figure of the world." Well, I am 
 almost tempted to follow his logic, as I look from the 
 Toren out on magnificent dyke-girdled wheat-fields, red- 
 roofed villages, embowered in trees, each clustercfl round 
 the (diurcli that names it : Aagtekerke, St. Agatha's 
 (Jhurch ; Biggekerke, St. Bega's ; Boudewijnskerke, St. 
 Baldwin's, and the others ; stately avenues leading up to 
 country-houses where some of Holland's most illustrious 
 families dwell; fragments of the great Forrt Saiis Pitie 
 that once covered the island, now left like hits of Broce- 
 liande, and, over all, that low-hanging sky mantled with 
 pearly clouds, the inspiration and the despair of painters 
 since Vermeer's tiuie. 
 
 I, too, des])air of making you feed, by mere words, 
 anvthinii' of the extraordinar\' fascination of this bewit(di- 
 
 '■ii-ivn 
 
|^\>Ti;:^?^>y^^rT]i^'i^^ 
 
 WALCHEREN 
 
 
 mi^i 
 
 iiig isle; it is as if yolialciniia, the sea-godtlcss, whom 
 the Ronians worslii])])(Ml licrc*, bad left a spell round her 
 ancient hannts ; or rather, as if St. Willilirord, when he 
 
 hronght fresh water from the 
 de])tlis of the sand-dnnes close 
 l)v the sea at Zontelande in an 
 unfailing supply that serves 
 to-day, had invoked a blessing 
 super aquas refectionis every- 
 wbei'e in the island he con- 
 \'erted twelve centuries ago. 
 bike pious ^Eneas, much 
 tosse*! al)out on land and on 
 the dee^), I have seen nniny 
 countries and have entered 
 syrapatheticalh' into the lives 
 ()f their people ; but none com- 
 ])ares with this in the irresist- 
 ible force of its appeal. A 
 Harvard don, writing to me 
 just now from the Idistering 
 asphalt of Paris and the end- 
 less, soul-wearying galleries of 
 the Louvre, has the im]ierti- 
 nence to sympathize with me 
 
 TUK nooKOl'T OX 
 THE DYKE 
 
 over being "among the drear v. 
 
 dark dunes of desolate Tlolland !" Yet, while he is poring 
 over acres of canvas splotched by hunuin hands with col- 
 ours that have fadecl or are fading, and trying to see what 
 some lono'-dcad artist thouu'lit he saw, I ha\'c all about mc 
 

 26 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 ta^J/^ in God's own breeze-swept galleries, ever-changing pietnres 
 ^(Y^ of His painting, and living figures that glow with whole- 
 some beauty and goodness. I had rather have my lookout 
 here from the Toren than all Paris; and tiny Jannetje, 
 lis])ing Ons Yadcr ;it iii\- knee, is iiKirc (difviiii:' societv 
 
 
 OLD UARBOUE TOWER, VKEKK. 
 
 than all the University Presidents that ever invented new 
 religions. 
 
 Put what is Yeere like, do you ask? Two buildings 
 dominate it: one the vast fourteenth-century church, a 
 veritable cathedral for size, now quite desolate and empty 
 except for two apse-chapels thrown into one and used for 
 the Iveformed congregation's assend)ly ; the other the 
 /S7ar//////.v. or city-hall, its ex(iuisite, fragile minaret rising 
 in a sort of arabes(|iie abo\'e the I'ich Sixteenth-century 
 Gothic of its front. The minster is silent; but every 
 halfdioiir ihe old, old carillon in llie Shullnns tower riid<les 
 
 il^, 
 
 mm 
 
 
 '^^^^^■c^. 
 
 
 ^'- iNrv\.-,/v-; ■m'rwvAo /V7"^r''fw\.-v/v^ f^/vs a/'K' ^r■'"■g~-^1rvv^. vv7 r- 
 
m 
 
 f^ 
 
 ^A- 
 
 ^v 
 
 ':<z^f-^^^<::rr"T^'!^t^'^^''/'r/^'^'"T'V(^:■~^'^^fYvr7iT 
 
 WALCHEREN 
 
 forth the melody of ^'Ehi feste Burn 1st ansev Gott." 
 (Yesterday it sounded just at the Elevation, in the tiny 
 Roman chapel on the quay!) 
 
 Little else is left of the ancient grandeur ; two or 
 three splendid crow-stepped house-fronts show Ikjw the 
 merchant-princes used to live ; and in the tiny museum :^R/W 
 
 the stately custodian displays the famous silver-gilt cup, i^v 
 adorned with repousse work, which Maximilian of Bur- '-^T 
 gundy gave to Veere four centuries ago, and which ^^ 
 millionaires have striven in vain to carry off for collec- ^ 
 tions. But there are red-tiled roofs so steep that the gulls Tjirc 
 cannot perch on them ; old brick cottages whose hues are 
 richer than the reds of Venice ; a little harbour full of 
 brown-sailed fishing boats, whose masters stalk along the 
 quay in sea-boots and silk hats. There are gardens over- 
 flowing with flowers ; a great windmill flaps its arms 
 giant-like, till one syiii])athizes with Don (Quixote; the 
 learned Welerwaardc Ilccr Domine and his charming wife 
 put their perfect English at the disposal of the ('n(iuiring 
 stranger ; and the children are everywhere, with shining 
 faces and waving hands and such ready friendliness that 
 one wants to be Briarciis and embrace them all. Whether 
 they knit patiently at the stockings which the saljofs wear 
 out so fast, or dance in a ring on the beach "with woven 
 paces and with waving arms," or stand in ra])t sea-ward 
 gaze on the dykes, they are always ad()ral)le. Some day 
 a little book will appear, about real f«»reign children T 
 know, with pictures of Simonne and Bianca and Mar- 
 guerite and Ailisdu, and all my s])eeial favourites: very 
 likelv its cliniiters will first see the liii,'ht here. And I 
 
 it 
 
 ^-■Vii5 
 
 ^^^o^'\;^i^^J=^i:^^V?^t 
 
r'--YrT:'^''-m, 
 
 28 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 wai'u \i)\\ that, place au.v princesses being law, so that 
 II. II. II. Marie Adelaide of Luxembourg shall come first, 
 my tiny peasant-maids of Veere shall follow close after 
 her. I supjDOse trifles please me disproportionately ; so I 
 acknowledge that the pleasantest sensation of this whole 
 summer has been to find myself remembered and hailed 
 by name as l)e A inefilcacmsche Heer l)(>}niite by radiantly 
 smiliijg ('hi'istiiia and Pieternelhi and Kathje and fifty 
 more. 
 
 There is nothing to do in Veere: I mean, you have not 
 to draw up a sight-seeing programme each night and 
 wearily fulfil it the next day. But time never hangs 
 heavy. There are the l)oats to watch, with their fares of 
 fish; good old S('hi])])('rs plies l)ack and forth in his ferry- 
 boat from ivToord-Beveland ; a yacht juits in, flying the 
 British ensign; Johanna Goedl»l<:)ed, aged twelve, is ready 
 to discuss the relative merits of peasant-girls' costumes 
 and burgher-girls' garments like those she wears — a trifle 
 consciously; the queer old Englishman who haunts the 
 place has some Int of newly-discovered history to impart ; 
 the light and shadow on the polder change magically ; 
 and, after dinner, when l)risk and kindly Martina lu'ings 
 tea u]> on the flat roof of the tower, and the little company 
 holds high converse, with the firmament for cloth-of-estate, 
 the Schouwen light flashing each minute to remind us 
 that we are almost out at sea, one looks back over a day 
 whose every hour has been filled to overflowing, yet with 
 neither satiety nor fatigue at the end. 
 
 Prociil, pj'ocid esfe. profanl! If any of you can not 
 be content with sim])le things, or yearn for excitement. 
 
 
 ^^^ 
 
s.-v\ yv^ ^r-"^ — yvy^/sA./yi rNfvyv/wrr-TTir^rs'vyv^ ■^T"^^^^A■yV7 f 
 
 \rr(mm\ 
 
 3CS^V^<^ 
 
 WALCHEREN 
 
 29 
 
 
 
 
 ''WILLEMIXA, :\IY i^PECIAL FAVOUKITE, A:yD FOUR OTHEK 
 SMALL MAIDS." 
 
 '^^Vi 
 

 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 keep away from my sanetuarx. It is ijo place for the 
 iiiisympatbetic, the coldly critical, or the superior. Only 
 the childlike ought to go to this paradise of children; for 
 they only have the open vision and the open heart. But 
 they, coming from whatsoever burdens of labour or whehn- 
 ing seas of anxiety to rest a little here, will ever afterward 
 have a joyous memory, can always think exultantly of 
 Zeeland's proud motto, set beneath its device of a swim- 
 ming lion: Liictor ef Emevgo, "I struggle and emerge." 
 
 More of Walcheren another time. Just now the 
 English Captain calls me to the tower-smnmit, where we 
 shall discuss American humour, the influence of Japanese 
 art on English ])aiuters, modern ]iiinor ]ioets, and our 
 favourite sweetmeats. 
 
 ']mt~r't^t\C^/vi"~T-'^>j^i\\r^^ ^^^'^A^^ r 
 
V^f '';•)" 
 
 ^# 
 
 FROM VIANDEN TO ECHTERNACH 
 
 THE clavs of pilgrimages are not over; I have just 
 made one. For though a battered Panama and an 
 umbrella took the place of the hat with scallop-shell and HJOI 
 staff, it was none the less a religious journey to the shrine ^^ 
 of a great saint, Willibrord, A^jostle of the Low Countries ^J 
 and of Luxembourg. ^ 
 
 '"Ah," jou say, "here come the inevitable jSTether- 
 lands." To be sure ; we haven't finished with Walcheren 
 yet : I hope to return there in another letter. But this 
 tells of far dilfereiit scenes, among wooded hills and 
 castled crags, where the air is crisp and bracing, and the 
 streams make a joyful noise as they flow, and one can 
 almost see Rosalind and Celia, with the melancholy 
 Jacques, and all the rest of that goodly fellowship, down 
 the dell ; for it is the veritable Forest of Arden, where still 
 the red deer rove and the long aisles of the woodland 
 stretch mysteriously into regions of blended ronumce and 
 history. If I should once begin to eidarge on the legends 
 and associations of the Ardennes, there would never be an 
 end: so I must go on at once with my pilgrinurge. 
 
 'Idiere was a heavy white fog this morning, when I 
 came down to breakfast at a l)ai'baroiisl\- carlv hour, in the 
 
 <i/"x7' 
 
 1^^^.^- 
 
 3r^;M 
 

 32 
 
 
 WTaTHT^T 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 ^ 
 
 cozy Hoii'J (Ics I'j'i niiKjci-s at N'iaiulcii: hut ii'ood Picar, the 
 cheery huullord, r('il('rat(<l, // fml hcmi /I'lnps, iii((i/infi,que, 
 M. I'Ahhe! And so it ])r(>\-('(l. 1 said ,iiiH»(ld)ye to Mile. 
 Bertha, La h'nsr <Ji's A nlc niics. cast a l(M»k iqnvard to 
 
 wdicrc the in i 12,' h t y 
 castle, cradle of the 
 Honsc of Orange, was 
 just a]>])('ariiiii' ini its 
 throne through the 
 vnist-wreaths, and gave 
 the Avnrd to the coach- 
 man. AVe started, with 
 a crack of the lash, up 
 ihe hillside road, un- 
 der the carved figures 
 of Faith, Plope, and 
 ( diarity lieneath their 
 cano])y in the living 
 I'ock (memorials of an 
 ancient altar to the 
 three Xorns, they 
 say), i»ast the Idack- 
 a n d - wdi i te l:)oundary 
 ])ost, with its Kdiu;/- 
 rclrJt PreussetK and in 
 h\'e minutes fV>nnd 
 ourselves l)y the ancient (^anmandery of the Knights 
 Templar at lu>th. The house has been remodelled 
 into a comfort al)le dwelling not nnlike some old Eng- 
 lish maniu'-honse in East Anulia; hut the cha])el is now 
 
 
 -^ 
 
 VIAND EX. 
 THE BRIDGE AND THE CASTLE. 
 
rPF'ri^o^'''?^ rr'O^T^r 
 
 ^nii 
 
 
 /g?v^,-^<;.-> 
 
 
 Qi-- \ •<:: 
 
 1^^- 
 
 ^^ t 
 
 
 FROM VIANDEN TO ECHTERNACH 
 
 ii 
 
 
 1^ 
 
 
 33 
 
 . MB 
 
 -J fefss^rs 
 
 .IU4 
 
jYVV>-7- 
 
 r 
 
 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 the parish church of Koth, and stands under the shadow 
 of a magnificent linden, twenty feet in girth, planted 
 by St. Willibrord himself when he evangelized these 
 regions. Its doors are carved with the Templar cross, 
 above which appears the cross of the Hospitallers ; for, 
 after the suppression of the Templars, Roth was bestowed 
 upon the younger order. . . , 
 
 But there are yet more venerable traditions. Part of 
 the foundation is Roman work ; there is a round apse at 
 the end of the north aisle, with strange arcading outside ; 
 and they say that an underground passage leads from 
 beneath the altar, three miles, to the ruin of another castle. 
 On the north side of the churchyard stands a very old 
 st(»ne cruciiix, with a life-size figure, wonderfully dignified 
 and ])athetic in the appeal of its outstretched arms. I 
 am glad they placed it there, where, according to old use, 
 the bodies of the unbaptized and the excommunicate were 
 buried, as if to bear witness to the infinite and eternal 
 power of the C-ross. "In the ])lace where the tree falleth, 
 there it shall lie," is doubtless a true saying; but who 
 knows what the Carpenter of jSTazareth may do with that 
 tree ? 
 
 For seven miles, from Roth to Wallendorf, we were 
 in Prussian territory. The villages are desolately squalid, 
 far worse than those across the river in Luxembourg, with 
 vast embankments of l^arnyard manure in front of each 
 house, and dirty-faced, red-eyed children playing in the 
 filth. But the country is ln'avenly. Scarlet poppies 
 flamed in the midst of the still unripened oats, rich 
 meadows were yielding their second crop of hay, lilack 
 
 Hfs.\r\ .■^ .'\^i 
 
 T^^-Ofvyy, 
 
 ':K'm 
 
 ^^u^ 
 

 Yr^:{v<YnX 
 
 FROM VIANDEN TO ECHTERNACH 
 
 35 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 
 
 ^^ - "^ 
 
 S^A^ 
 
 THE CRUCIFIX OF ROT II. 
 
 
 znn'r^YV'}7.r<^^'Vi<?npf~ 
 
 'LjJ;< 
 
36 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 cattle grazed contentedly, watche<l <,>\er l)y shockdieaded 
 peasants with expressionless faces, and everywhere the 
 forests of birch, beech, and e"\'ergreen clapped their hands 
 fi>r joy in the chill freshness of the morning breeze. 
 
 By the bend in the road a mossy cross told where a 
 murder had Ijeen wrought, generations ago, and Ijesought 
 a Eequicscat for the victim — aye, and for his red slayer, 
 too, who perhaps knew not what he did. Further on, a 
 battered, crudely carved crucitix bore on its front the 
 wdiole of the In Prlnctplo cval Vcrhinti. with the date 
 1(303. How incredildy old that would seem at h<:)me ; 
 how of yesterday here ! 
 
 Wayside shrines had oiferings of lield-flowers before^ 
 them, to testify that into the dull lives of these hard- 
 \vorked, heavy-faced peasants shines the sunlight of the 
 great Ho})e which alone makes life worth while, because^ 
 l:)y it a door is 0}>eucd into heaven. Ah, 1 luul rather bo 
 •Johann Bauer, on his l<iiees l)ef(»re the ]»icture of GJod 
 Incarnate, worshi])]»ing Ilim \\'\\\\ lo\ing faith, and ask- 
 ing the prayers of His blessed Mother and all other saints, 
 here on this forest-road of the Ardennes, than any con- 
 ceited University Brcsidcut, "doctored" a huudriMl times, 
 frostily self-compbicent, and preaching a uew religion of 
 surgery and science, with neither comfort nor inspii-atioii. 
 
 (Jrossing the Sure \)\ the old bridge, nwv tinds himself 
 back in the Grand-Duchy, and rejoices accordingly. 
 Thereafter, on either side of the river, are traces of the 
 Bonian occu]^ation to delight arclupologists. Thus, a 
 pleasant \'ill;i at ]]olleudorf has iu the wall of a look-out 
 
 ^B 
 
 ■.rsA^/l/y^hj f~-V] 
 

 a^ 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^T 
 
 
 ^ v^ 
 
 
 FROM VIANDEN TO ECHTERNACH 
 
 tower l»v the i!,ar«]cii a fraii'iiU'iit of sculpture, rescued 
 
 ■ . ' . . . .... -^ 
 
 fretni The river, with an illea;ib]e Latin inscription; the '. : :' 
 
 lignre is that of a fishtn-nian, trident in hand, with his ^^7^ 
 
 basket over his shoulder, and shows uot a little realism. ' | 
 
 Further on, high up on the hillside iu a dense thicket of ~^J% 
 
 evergreens, stands an altar \o Diana, l)earing this h'gend 
 
 plain to see : 
 
 Deae Dianae 
 
 Q. Postvmivs . Poteiis 
 
 V. S. 
 
 There are rcdiefs on the base, bnt s(_) weather-worn as 
 to be liarelv visible. One likes t(_) l)(die\'e that the pious 
 lionian wdio nuide an offering, fV)r his sours health, to 
 Diana, \-irgin goddess of the chase, here in these sweet 
 sylvan hainits fifty generations agC), found the unknown 
 God not unmindful of his piety, and because he wor- 
 shipped, albeit ignorantly, has long ag<5 reached the goal 
 he sought. 
 
 Xot far away,, at IJerdorf, is a little village church 
 where the altar is ]>uill out of the car\-ed stones of a iionian 
 altar — a mystery, indeed, setting forth truths far deeper 
 than the villagers a|»])r(dieud, while Hercules, ^Minerva, 
 duno, and A])ollo hold u]) the niensa for the Pnre ()l)latiou. 
 
 .Vs the road bent sharply, twin spires ai)])eared in 
 the distance: it was the Abl)ey of Echteruach. The ri\"er- 
 bank was liue(l with washerwomen, on their knees, scrub- 
 bing iu the stream itself, pounding the garments on ilat 
 stones, and then s])readiug them out on the grass to 
 bleacdi and dry — a familiar sight to Kuro])ean travellers, 
 but one whicli always strikes me freshly as a note of 
 foi-eiun wavs. ( I wonder wliether clothiuo,' so cleansed 
 
 •^^.^.'^^f-^ 
 
 M 
 
 ^1%s3K>€>S^fcc 
 
 ^s5^^?%^'V'^§?-li<^VV^.i5i'V\^ 
 
s.y\'^./>-7 rvy>/i/ 
 
 ^^yYf:^i 
 
 38 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 would be reallv freslier than what comes home from a 
 steam laundry, redolent of Javelle water!) 
 
 In ten minutes we were clattering through the bright, 
 clean, narrow streets of Echternach. Luncheon'!' It must 
 wait ; our first l)usiness here is within the minster. .Vnd 
 so we crossed the tiny market, its loth-century Puh/sIiiIiI . 
 or town-house, contrasting oddly with the modern shops l>y 
 its side, turned the corner, and st<t])])ed at the abbey gates. 
 On either side are the vast luiildings that once sheltered 
 the Benedictine monks who carried on St. Willibrord's 
 work; l)ut, alas! there is no more a mitred Al)bot of 
 Echternach, holding lordshi]) over all this region, and 
 on earth are only menioj'ies of all those holy men who 
 fought the good tight here uruler the liule given from 
 Monte Cassino. I know not to what uses the old monas- 
 tery is put now; I lia<:l not the heart to ask. But the 
 uiiuster stand'^ much as it was in the thirteenth century, 
 when (lothic euricliuients were added to au originally 
 Romanesque church of two hundred years earlier, the 
 successor of that actually built by St. Willibrord himself. 
 Idle inlci'ior tlauies with red, gold, au<l blue everywhere 
 on the walls; pillars and columns which alternate in the 
 su])port of the roof are blazing with C(dor in a fashion 
 rather trying to eyes uuaccustouied. I]ut at the end of 
 the centre aisle, Ixd'ore the high altar, exquisitely white 
 and delicate, is the shrine of our Saint, the pearl for 
 which this casket was made. Through the marl)le tracery 
 is seen the ancient stone coffin where all that is mortal 
 of St. Willibrord has rested since his death, A. D. ToO. 
 
 But, someone questions, who was he, and what s])ecial 
 
jT^'I — F~virA^r,''','''^~"'"-"i'''^!T 
 
 1^ 
 
 ''-i^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ■'yKf'ra 
 
 FROM VIANDEN TO ECHTERNACH 
 
 39 
 
 
 ECHTERA'ACH xVBBEY, LUXEMBOURG 
 
 •r2'^o-",-^-':^T" 
 
 S.V A A/y^ r^ys.^/yn ■<-~r--:!S\/\A/yi T~f-i'^y^'V^ r-<y\yyT!^ — ^C~T1tNVV'V'V?, ^^'V^'VV7 fl f_ 
 
T^' 
 
 ■S:^c 
 
 
 Wfff 
 
 40 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 concern have we with liinj, more than wilh any other 
 by-gone worthy of liis centnry 'i ]\Inch every \\'ay, I 
 answer. He was of that niai'x'clloiis group of English mis- 
 sionaries who, within a hiindiXMl years of iSt. Angnstine's 
 
 ^. 
 
 
 wm 
 
 SHRL.XK (_)K ST. WI LLl BKOKD. ECHTEKNACU A1;L5KV. 
 
 coming to Kent, were re]>ro(lu('iiig in the ?soi'th the 
 glorions work of the Keltic missionaries in eaiiier times. 
 Made first Archl)isho]) of Ktrecht, towards the end of the 
 seventh centurx', he was not eontent to settle down among 
 his ])nr])les in a i-egion ;ilrea<ly won to ( 'lii'ist ;ind the 
 
ssvm 
 
 ^T/ir, 
 
 m 
 
 ( 'liurcli Ity Iiiiiis(lf, hut, rctiu'iiini:' to Kiiiihiiid, cvd.'^sed 
 the Xortli kSca aii'aiii, hiiidiMl al Z(_>ul('hni(li', in Walclieroii 
 ( wlici'c his well siill supplies the vilhiii'c with water), ;ni<l 
 hcii'au the second ureat jieriod of his evaiiii(diziiiii', which 
 eiideil oidv after he had .seen the fruits of his al)uudaiit 
 lahonrs, aud had borne the care of all the churches in the 
 hinds he had won tor the Faith. 
 
 Ill our (hiv, when the ancient Old ('atliolic (diurch of 
 Ilolhind, with its l)ranches in Gernianv, iSwitzerhind, 
 Anstria, and France, is alfording a refnge for those llee- 
 ing from papal despotism, it is interesting to note that 
 the society recently foiMued to cultivate better acqnaintance 
 Ix'tween Anglo-( 'atholics and Old C-atholics bears his 
 name: the Society of St. AVillibrord. And I trust that 
 many who read this letter will desire to become members 
 of the American branch, and will connnnnicate with its 
 Honorary Secretary, at 2S Brimmer Street, J](.)ston. 
 
 I suppose that Echt(^rnach is most widely known in 
 connection with an extraordinary mediaeval snrvival. the 
 Dancing Procession on AVhitsun-Tnesday. Thousands 
 come from all the conntry ronnd ; invalids barely al)le 
 to move, or othei's interceding for their sick friends; 
 mothers 1)earing' delicate children in their arms; even 
 cripples ; and to the music of violins, dance through the 
 streets n]) to the abbey, where a solenni Tc Pcinii is sung 
 in the ])resence of the Bisho]). There are (/r()f('S(iii('ncs. 
 no doubt; Imt the foi (hi clifD'hoitiih'}- transfigures alb and 
 those who have seen it say that tears, rather than laughter, 
 are ]irovoked. 
 
 From Fchlernach to Tnxi mbonru' is a two hours' run 
 
 T^t^isn^/y] 
 
 S'V^ 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 on the Cheuiiii Vicinal, thivniiii a rri^i.ni iinicli siiiiniLT 
 and richer than the northern parr of the (Jraiid Duchy, 
 but not so picturesque. There the tln-ough trains from 
 Ostencle to Basel are reached; and I write this at forty 
 miles an hour, with my face set towards the ever-varying 
 yet still unchanging beauties of the high Alps. From 
 there, a fresh message, doubtless. Meantime, as the com- 
 plinediour draws near, Saiirfc WiUlhrorde. ova pro nobis! 
 
 §^ 
 
i^i'W-. 
 
 V. ' 
 
 EINSIEDELN 
 
 WE separated, gentle reader, by St. Willibrord's 
 shrine in Ecbternaeh, if I remember, with a 
 promise of some Alpine glimpses. Ah, if there were only 
 time and space to linger with yon in the nnspeakable 
 beauty of the ddniiiersee, with Niesen's ])yramid just 
 across the lake from my windows, and the sharp Stock- 
 horn exulting above the clouds, to the west, while Eiger 
 and Monch, and the ever-glorious Jungfrau, in their 
 eternal snows, shine resplendent eastward, to the sunrise, 
 or glow with matchless purple radiance at sunset I We 
 might go rowing together with Phyllis and Ruth, English 
 (diildren with voices sweeter than the Swiss honey one 
 has for breakfast, and great masses of fair haii-, and 
 delightful manners, such as are meet for the (diildren of 
 the clergy; or climl) u]), up to the green ])lateau of 
 Sigriswil, into its church a thousand years old, clean and 
 bare and desolate as an empty barn now, under the blight 
 of Protestantism ; or chat with small Frieda Stern, aged 
 eleven, the eldest of seven, and playing mother to all the 
 I'cst in the ])easantdionie by Aeschlen. while the real 
 mother lies ill, nnder two feather-beds by way of comfort. 
 We niiuht visit Sr. P)eatns' li'rotto, overhanging the lake. 
 
 
 
 ■ •:> 
 
 'MM 
 
 '#^S^y^:^vH<^\^iS^3^^^«S^ 
 
where ;iii aliiiosi lifelike iiiiaiie of the heniiH 
 ill iiie<lirati(iii, ;m<l tlie custoiliau opens a i'o('k-h( wii iirax'O 
 W'liei'e se\-eral sl;( letoiis repose in ronfiisioH, and remarks 
 casnalJy : "One of these is Heatns ; we don't know whieh/' 
 
 But the hake of Idinn is doulitless wcdl-known to 
 many of yon: |»ei'ha])s yon ha\'e e\-en lingered in the eool 
 arcades of the j^'arden hy Gnnten, which is my Swiss home, 
 with the malachite of the waters at your feet and gentle 
 sixteen-year-ohl Marguerite talking in fonr or fi\-e langna- 
 ges by yonr side. So, reluctantly, I turn away from all 
 that I'egion, to lake yon with me into less familiar corners 
 of this divinely })lanned playground foi' the civiliz((l 
 world. 
 
 C*om(% then, let ns' go on ])ilgrimage once more, this 
 time to Einsiedeln and St. Gallon. 
 
 I had heen sailing on the Lake of Lnzern all day, 
 lifting n]) my eyes nnto its mountains and praising God 
 for sncli s])lendonr of beanty; with a visit to Tcdbs cha])el 
 and t(t the great Tell Monnment at Altdorf l;)esides. (Of 
 Course yon beliex'e that legend, Avhich has become so mnch 
 a part of evt'ry Switzer's inheritance. 1 don't mean to 
 play modernist and argne that it is as good as true, 
 thongh it never happened: I really <]<» hold it for history, 
 Baedeker to the contrary notwithstanding. It is too good 
 not to be true!) But at live o'tdock I took train at 
 Fliielen, and, after tAvo changes, found mystdf at the end 
 of a tiny branch-liiie, in an am]»hitlieatrt'-vallev far abcive 
 the Bake of Ziirich, with the great bells of the Al)bey of 
 fr% Onr Lad\' of Binsiedeln boominu' out their call to lU'aver, 
 
 ■:J^'v'-iD 
 
EINSIEDELN 
 
 
 
 one aiiioiiu' the two lunidivd iliinisaiui pilgriius tliat cimif 
 rlici'c cverv year. 
 
 li was a l(iii,a,(r jouriicv than the two hours in a 
 comfoi'taMo railway carriaiiv ; I hcii'au to realize that, as 
 I looke<l r(.»mi(l luv exquisitely eleau. hare littk' room in 
 the llnli'l (hi Soh'il. and saw the eiaieitix over tlic l)e(h 
 with the holy-water stonp beneath it, and heard the 
 hearty .salutation of Phronie, the maid, "Griiss tloll," 
 whiidi echoes over all Geruian-Catholic Switzerland its 
 eheerful })iety. 1 was l)aek a thousand years and more, 
 with ( 'ount .Meiurad oi Sulgen, who l»uilt here a tiny 
 (diureh to sludter an image of onr J^(jrd in His AEotlier's 
 arms, with the Benedictine hermits (E'msiedler) who 
 gu.arde(l it after his death, A. 1 ). Sill, and with all that 
 long ])roeession of holy sonls which has marched np from 
 the Alpbach to the shrine, connnemorating the Incarnation 
 as they went. For here, though the glory of the Prince- 
 Ahhots has ])assed, and the sword is no longer l)orne with 
 the crosier, as it nsed to l)e hy Emperor Pndolf's decree 
 in 1274, the (dd spirit i-emains: whatever paste jewels 
 may he set therein, the hne gold <d' childlike, earnest 
 faith in God Incarnate, AVhose delights are among the 
 sons of men, shines bright and pnre. 
 
 After dinner I went across the great o])en place before 
 the Abl)ey, ])ast the Virgin's Fountain, (dind)ed tlu^ steps, 
 an<l went in. I'here. jusi inside rhe (fiors. is a lilack 
 markle cdiapel, enclosed in an ir(.»n grating: and within, 
 adorned Avith jewels and gorgeous vestiuents, is the inuige. 
 ] wish T eould honestly say I was moved to religious 
 feidinu'. i ac('( |)t the Seventh Ecumenical ("onncil, cv 
 
 i><y>'^4^ 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 ammo, and iihlior the Iconoclastic heresy fervently, as 
 savonring of Islam. Btit I ninst frankly own that, in 
 itself, this grotesqnely ugly doll, Mack with age and 
 preposterous in its attire, revolted nie ; and the conntless 
 ex votos hung round the shrine only added to the painful 
 impression. Still, when I saw the rapt faces of the 
 crowds that were kneeling in the shadowy minster, heard 
 the inarticulate murmur of their prayers, and saw the 
 endless stream of penitents going into the chapel of the 
 Confessionals, I remembered that God brings good even 
 out of the foolishness of men, moving mysteriously ; and 
 when I came out and saw the pilgrims solemnly drinking, 
 as if in some sacramental rite, from each of the fourteen 
 jets that stream out of the Virgin's Fountain, I forgot 
 to be critical, and drank too ! 
 
 The Abbey buildings are vast and baroque, erected 
 early in the eighteenth century upon old foundations, and 
 as bad architecturally as one would expect from that 
 period. Interiorly, the abbey church suggests St. Peter's, 
 Rome : and one who dislikes that monstrous private chapel 
 of the Western Patriarch as heartily as I do, could hardly 
 utter a severer criticism. But when I entered it Sunday 
 morning at nine, for the sermon which ]u'ecedes the High 
 Mass at 9 :30, and found it packed to the doors with 
 thousands of eager listeners, it seemed very much holier 
 than St. Peter's ever did. The preacher was a young 
 Benedictine, in his black habit (the (U-iginal of the black' 
 preaching-gown so dear to old-fashioned Evangelicals), 
 and he extolled God's goodness in ordaining the salvation 
 of the world by beinc; bom of a woman, accordino- to 
 
 ^WJ2 
 
rf' 
 
 
 the licsli. Tlicu Ctiiiic a diiiiiiticMl, sratcdv cclchrarioii of 
 the llolv ^Mysteries, a l»('ar<l('(| monk celebrating, with the 
 jjropei' ministers; and when I went out, an honr hiter, 
 over my arm the necessary camp-chair provided by all 
 the inns for their guests, I was conscious that Einsiedelu 
 is indee(l holy ground. 
 
 The abbey stands three thousand feet above sea; and 
 back of it is a hill, with pastures and forests, seven 
 hundred feet higher. As I clindjed it, the spell of sanctity 
 was on every living creature ; even the young colts, usually 
 shyest of farm-ereatures, came up to a stranger's hand 
 in the friendliest fashion, and the doves perched on the 
 horses' shouhhn-s, as of old on St. Francis' arms. Far 
 below stretched a peaceful valley, whence rose the melody 
 of the Ea)}z rlrs Yarhr.<i: and as the sun reached the 
 zenith, and the Aih/cIiis rang out from the abbey tow^ers, 
 1 was gratefnl to Onr Lady of Kinsiedeln for having 
 brouiiht me there. - 
 
 ^••^■^ XT '^^Crf'-'' v" 
 
 D(^ 'V '^0£>' ^ '\:oir'&-<^'if ^fe^'VSG*' V '^»C^ V ^:CCi' XT 
 
?^^^7^-^ 
 
 mm 
 
 ^ty<g 
 
 VI. 
 ST. GALL AND APPENZELL 
 
 JOT^I^XK^'I^'(i IV.mi Einsicdeln to St. (lallcii, one 
 ]);i-->(s llic liiulit at Ziirirh, distvessiiiiiiy iiKxlcrn in 
 its s1ji)\\' (iiiail( iv^, hut a-; iiKMlia/val as cuie jlcimIs, if oiilv lie 
 kni)A\-^ w'lici-c ii> wandi r — thonii;h, alas! with ass(K'ia,ti()ns 
 sadly (liiF(i'(iit from those of Einsiedeln. Fi-oiu my six- 
 hnndi-(';l-y( ai'-old cast hk nt in the Hotel of the Sword I 
 looked out aci'oss llic ( iik raid Limniat to the (li-ossin iiiislcr, 
 eight centnries old, aii<l now revered by some as the plaee 
 where Zwiiiuli miiiistirid error till his d( atli. lint there 
 are (jiiaiiit old sireets winding ronnd the Liiideuhof. 
 where n:>lhiuu' 1km ehauuc(l for thrt e liiiiidre(l yenrs, if 
 one lniow-< wIk re lo fiixl them: and I modestly acknowl- 
 edge an iiistiiiet foi' such ([narters that iie\'( r faifs me. 
 However, cities in summer are no ])lace for a pilgrim, 
 if they he l>iu and Imstling and self-coiHcions ; so 1 hur- 
 ritd away as fast a^ 1 cordd ti) St. (ralh n, o\'er!ookini;' 
 Lake CNaistanee : 
 
 "(iiii 1(11111(1 with I'uggt'ct iiKiiuitaiiis 
 The fair L;ikp Constance lies: 
 in licv hliic lifuit reflected ' 
 
 Sliiiie hack file starry sl^ies." 
 
 The SAveetest \'oice 1 (-\'( r heard ns( d to recite those 
 verses to me thirt\- \( ars a^n; and now it sinu's the new 
 
 c^-V^(^V^c 
 
 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 y^^X 
 
 Vae 
 
 song ''where, beyond these voices, there is peace.' 
 mihi, dvmidium animae ■meae! 
 
 But, at first, St. Gallen is almost disappointing. I 
 don't quite know what I expected; perhaps to see good 
 old Irish St. Gall wath his pet bear, as in the picture I 
 cherished of him ; at any rate to find crowds of quaintly 
 
 dressed peasants in the streets. 
 Instead of which, a thriving 
 town devoted to embroideries, 
 v'ith Broadway addresses on 
 half the factories and shops ; 
 until I penetrated into the 
 (Jathedral Close, and found 
 myself in the library where the 
 treasures are kept. 
 
 There are no relics of St. 
 (Jail; the Huns burned them, 
 and it is perhaps not matter 
 f(>r lamentation. But there 
 are wonderful old MSS., some 
 of them, in Irish i]lumination 
 (Hcofficc scrlpfa. the catalogue 
 says ) , going back almost to his 
 time, as those of you who have read Eldcpliard will remem- 
 ber ; and in a case adjoining is a magnificent collection of 
 German Bibles, all dating before Martin Luther's birth! 
 When I poiiit(Ml rhat out to the sweet old woman who 
 showed me about, she was in an ecstasy of delight. Luther 
 did not discover the Word of God to the Germans, despite 
 the Protestant delusion to that effect. 
 
 MARTIIsSTor.KL. 
 
 i^"vVi2 
 
wvyv? 
 
 vfYvr? 
 
 Here, too, as at Eiiisicdi'ln, the wuefnl eigiilecntli 
 century liad its way arebitectiirally ; and the abbey itself 
 was suppressed at the l)eginning of the nineteenth, though 
 the ('athedral remains. But it was really on anotlier 
 errand that I eanie to St. Gallon. When I was a child, a 
 certain tale that I read in a tiny book my grandmother 
 gave me had a profound eli'ect on my imagination. It 
 told how a good monk, jSTotger by name, a thousand years 
 before, saw a man, working on the top of a high clifl", 
 lose his balance, fall to the bottom, and be dashed to 
 pieces; and was so moved by that dreadful sight that he 
 composed at once the wonderful prayer which tlirilU 
 every heart at a burial : Media vita in movie sumiis; ''In 
 the midst of life we are in death." Well, that gorge is 
 the Martinstobel, four miles out of St. Gallen, towards 
 Rorschach : and I came to see it. 
 
 The road winds peacefully on through orchards and 
 rolling pastures, with prosperous farmsteads on either 
 hand, and the lake shimmering in the distance (much 
 more pastoral, this eastern Switzerland by the Bodensee, 
 than the central regions) ; and I rather wondered whether 
 the gorge I sought could be near by. Suddeidy, a curve 
 led down a wooded slope to where a narr<:)w iron bridge 
 spans a chasm a hundred feet deep, whose walls are 
 vertical rock down to the pebbly stream at the bottom. 
 It is nothing amazing: 1 know fifty such gorges in Xew 
 York and Xew Engbnid. Switzerland is full of horrid 
 ])r(^ei])ices, a fall from which would be far more dranuitic 
 — though no more fatal I But perhaps it is all the more 
 appropriate that the good monk jSTotger should ha\'e 
 
 ,^^ 
 
 ^^y^<S 
 
 i^^xJ^Q:^' ^ 
 
 -^ 
 
 'fM 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 uttered ;i universal sentiment in the presence of sudden 
 death, here rather than in some more picturesque phice. 
 For death is death, wherever it comes; and of whom may 
 we seek fVir succour in tluit houi', save of Him Whom all 
 mountains ninl hills praise, even their stones crvino- ^Vlle- 
 luia^ 
 
 I knelt to place a camera in position for some pic- 
 tures. A motor-car whirled hj, a diligence rattled past 
 from Heiden, a peasant drove his cart across ; no one 
 know the association of the gorge but myst'lf. When 1 
 tried to exphdn it to the woman at the farm al)ove, who 
 gave me a glass of milk, she said, "Ja. jti. llcrrscltdfi ." and 
 went her way. But I shall not forget: and I lio]»c Messed 
 jSToto'er knows, and is jdeased. 
 
 ddiere is a ])((Mdiar thrilling delight, to a person of 
 academic habits and ncccssai'ily conventioual manners, in 
 sallying forth buldly and alnuc, off the beaten ti-ack : no 
 one kno^vs him, he kunws no one; his rank and distinc- 
 tions, be they what they may, are of not the slightest 
 value ; he has no fussy courier to rely on, no trusted com- 
 rade Avitli \vli(»m to counsel. He must literally "g<t it 
 alone," in a new world: and, to be honest, L know a man 
 whose constant ejaculation under such circumstances is 
 Joe Gargery's "^Yot larx!" All this is api'opos of A|»- 
 penzell. I never knew anyone to go there; older ti'a\'idlers 
 rather scouted my ])urpose; Swiss friends intimated it 
 would 1)0 uninteresting. And yet, 1 had ratliei' rexdsit 
 A])penzell-inuer-Rlio(len than Milan; I bad rather see that 
 quaint old liathaus, A\-ith its dai'k cells in the attic, and 
 
 \r-^\ 
 
 
ST. GALL AND APPENZELL 
 
 
 ;;AC 
 
 1 
 
 
 its rows of painted Lanclaminans back to the fifteenth cen- 
 tnrj, than Buckingham Palace ; I prefer the Inn of the 
 Lion, with its carpetless bedi"o<^ms and its fonr-hundred- 
 year open-beamed eating-hall, to the Carlton, all crim- 
 son and gold, or the Tonraine, or the St. Regis. Every- 
 one to his taste, yon say: so be it. ''Me for Appenzell," 
 in our vernacular. 
 
 Appenzell is the most purely democratic canton in the 
 most democratic of all states. It was divided into two 
 distinct parts, Appenzell-inner-Rhoden, and Appenzell- 
 ausser-Ehoden, the first Eoman Catholic, the second Prot- 
 estant, in 1597: the total area is only one hundred and 
 sixty square miles, with a population of seventy thousand. 
 I speak here of Inner-Phoden, with its ca]iital, Appenzell, 
 a village of four thousand people far up above St. Gallen, 
 where all the voters of the canton meet out-of-doors, on an 
 April Sunday, and deliberate on public affairs. The 
 sweet-voiced little daughters of the Pathaus janitor made 
 friends with me at once, as I sat under its round arches, 
 and showed me all its treasures before I had been in the 
 village an hour. Everywhere the people saluted me, like 
 one of themselves, stranger as I was, with "Gri'iss Goit" : 
 everywhere the children ran up confidently, Avith a hand 
 outstretched to take mine in friendliest comradeship. And 
 when, in the morning, I heard a sound of many voices, 
 and looked out to see the whole village marching in ]iroces- 
 sion from the parish church to the Franciscan KJ osier, 
 saying thc> Posary as they went, with the gentle old 
 Pfarrer bringing up the rear (the custom every Tuesday), 
 I woiulered whether Arcadia were perhaps close by. (Per- 
 
 'S^ 
 
 w^ 
 
u 
 
 haps you know the^ tale of the Denver woman, coming to 
 Boston for the first time, who heard, as she drew near 
 its sacred precincts, a strange, rnstling noise coming in 
 at the Pnlhuan window. She asked the porter what it 
 was, only to learn "It's the Boston folks turning the leaves 
 of their Brownings, ma'am." AVell, I love Browning; 
 but that Tuesday morning in Appenzell, or again yester- 
 day by the Walensee when a whole trainload from Ein- 
 siedeln passed me, all reciting the Pater Nosfrr, the Ave 
 (f^ Maria, and the Credo, I wondered whether perhaps Swit- 
 zerland could not teach Massachusetts even yet!) iijiiiji 
 There is a distinctly different type of feature and col- fS<yY}2, 
 ouring in Appenzell; much more l)lack hair, much more 
 beauty of face and figure than in Ziirich, say, or pjern. 
 And I shall always remember the curly-haired Annette, 
 five-year-old burden-bearer, who walked hand-in-hand with 
 me trustingly all the length of the town, a load of fire- 
 wood in the basket bound on her tiny back; and, when the 
 turbulence of our own great cities deafens me once more, 
 my heart will hear and respond to her lisping "(iriiss 
 Goft.'' up among the luouutains that chister r<:)und Sentis, 
 in A])]M'nzeller-land. 
 
 Tf-Ci'V)^ 
 
VII. 
 
 CHUR AND LIECHTENSTEIN 
 
 WE were S2:)eaking, a inontli ago, of the fascination 
 that islands have for some of ns, apropos of 
 (Jaldej. Well, there are places, seen on the map, the look 
 of whose name bewitches, quite independent of any actual 
 association : Drontheim, Yucatan, Palembang, Moosonee, 
 Xorth Berwick Law, Bikaneer, Tallapoosa, St. Kitts, and 
 a hundred others ; I have never visited any of them, uKjst 
 likely never shall ; l)nt I feel drawn their way without 
 knowing why. 
 
 But here is a place out of the same list, which, ac- 
 tually seen, is even more fascinating than I had fancied : 
 (Jhur, capital of Graublindcn, Curia RJiaetorwm nineteen 
 centuries ago, when the Romans set their ineffaceal)le 
 stamp upon the eastern Alps. The hurried traveler 
 knows it only as the junction for the Albula railway to 
 St. Moritz ; but it is much better worth a visit than many 
 places vastly more frequented, if one cares for antiquities, 
 particularly of the ecclesiastical sort. ]\Iountains encircle 
 it, densely clothed with evergreen, snowy summits appear- 
 ing in the distance ; the Bhine flows a mile away, enriched 
 by the influx of the l^lessur ; and high up on a shelf of 
 rock, commaudinii' the vnllcv, ou the verv site of the 
 
 
 ^^M 
 
«^»«™ 
 
 CHUR AND LIECHTENSTEIN 
 
 57 
 
 cSrf&Z? 
 
 '^¥^ 
 
 ?%2 
 
 <3r^3%s 
 
 
 
 .i:"V^ 
 
 5YZAXTIXE ALTAK (a. D. 500), CATIIEDEAL, CHUR. 
 
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 c^ v"'^(i*''Tj'-<5oosy V '■^j^Sy'^jii^V^ia 
 
 a 
 
 V -^0=^ XT ^C^ V^ 
 
Jioiiiaii cMnip, is the Episcopal Court, with the Cathedral 
 of St. Lucius, the pahicc, the school and scniiuarv, aud the 
 quaiut old IlofkeUercl where I have beeu lodgiug. I do 
 not recall any such group of buildings with ancient, nie- 
 diieval, and modern so intimately mingled. In the (Cathe- 
 dral, where now men drink of the water of lif(% the 
 sacristan shows one the well out of which the legionaries 
 quenched their thirst before ever St. Lucius had evan- 
 gelized the Rhaetians ; and there are bits of pre-Christian 
 masonry in the crypt. There is a Byzantine altar, rich 
 with rope-work ornamentation, in the south transe]:)t, which 
 dates from about A. D. 500; au<l the main body of the 
 church is at least seven centuries old. Xortli of the 
 Cathedral is a Koman tower ; and another tower, to the 
 west, shelters the exquisite old dining-room where guests, 
 more or less distinguished, have eaten ever since the dawn 
 of the sixteenth century. 
 
 There is still a sharj) religious division between the 
 literally Ilir/h Churchmen of the Episcopal ( *ourt and 
 their Protestant neighbors down in the valley : for nearly 
 four hundr(^d years the two sections of the city have ke])t 
 their old character, just as in Llolland a solidly "Re- 
 formed'' village confronts another where the Pa])acy is 
 venerated jieni. con. The sacristan of the (Cathedral, 
 showing me its treasures this morning, pierced through 
 the superficial disguise of a blue cravat and a green 
 Tyrolese hat, with a direct challenge: I'jsiic Sarrrdos, 
 ])()iniin'':' And when 1 denied not, lii' elmekled, and re- 
 lapsing into German, said, "I can always tell: it's sonie- 
 thino- about the face!" Thereafter, he dwelt even more 
 
 r" rn 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 lovingly on the relics displayed for niy edification : the 
 skull and larger bones oi St. Liicins, the Irish nnssi(»nary 
 ^vho founded the see in the second century, all covered 
 with jewels, even the eye-sockets twinkling with ghastly 
 emerald and ruby eyes ; and fragments of other skeletons, 
 torn from the decorous concealment of mother earth and 
 now shown forth indecently, in gold and crystal caskets. 
 That part of the treasury was unspeakably revolting : apart 
 from any question as to the spuriousness of the relics, I 
 couldn't help thinking of Mr. Venus and his sweetheart, 
 in Qui- Miifiiol Friend, who "didn't wish to be regarded 
 in that bony light." 
 
 There are other objects much better worth considera- 
 tion: charters signed l)y (Jharlemagne and his sons; 
 splendid old vestments and altar-vessels ; wonderful 
 archaic carvings ; and over all, an atmosphere of genuine 
 piety, such as befits a region Christian for eighteen 
 hundred years uninterruj^tedly. 
 
 But I must set down, while they are fresh in mind, 
 impressions of a tiny state even more fascinating than 
 Les Grisons, and wholly one side the current of travel. 
 Out-of-the-way places always draw me ; and for years I 
 have had it in mind to visit the Sovereign Principality 
 of Liechtenstein, which lies north of Chur. So yesterday 
 I set off on foot from Sevelen, in the Rheintal, to enter 
 that Paradisal region, where eight thousand people, free 
 from taxes, from military burdens, and from the com- 
 j)lexities of urban civilization, dwell under the benign 
 and paternal rule of Fursf Johann II. von und zu Liecht- 
 enstein. It sounds a little like the delicious domain of 
 
 
 ^"y 
 
 
Priuce Otto, as Stevenson painted it ; and the first vision 
 of the great Schloss beetling over the town from its crag 
 half-waj up the mountain In-ings to mind that other castle, 
 so convenient for murders, described in Terence O'Rourhe, 
 Gentleman Adventurer, a really thrilling ''shocker" which 
 I hope you have all read. 
 
 The Rhine, hurrying down to the Bodensee, is crossed 
 by a long covered wooden bridge : at the west end Switzer- 
 land guards herself from invasion by a single soldier 
 with his family ; opposite, Liechtenstein is equally de- 
 fended. But there was a strange ceremony necessary, if 
 one would set foot on Flirst Johann's sacred soil. The 
 way was barred, except for a two-foot space, Avhere a shal- 
 low tin vessel rested, inch-deep Avith some aromatic liquid. 
 I started to step over this; but the guard said, "]!^(>, no, 
 sir, that will never do : you must walk through it, dipping 
 both l)0(»ts well in." It's ill arguing with a sentry; but 
 I am still wondering whether it was a sort of sacramental 
 rite, or if they hope thus to keep out the microbe of repub- 
 lican institutions ! 
 
 Vaduz, the capital, is a long, white village, snuggled 
 close round the l)ase of a Avooded mountain. Dominating 
 it and the east bank of the Rhine for miles, the ancient 
 castle of the Princes hangs almost in air, white, venerable, 
 magnificent. The road winds a long way up to the castle, 
 through dense forests of liirch and beech and evergreen, 
 overlooking vineyards hanging heavy with purple grapes, 
 and fields gay with meadow-saffron, like those Fra Angel- 
 ico ]>ainted for his Paradise. Attained at last, one looks 
 straight dowu on Vaduz, and sees rank on rank of the 
 
s 
 
 ■^\ 
 
 Swiss mountains i-isiiii^' westward and southward until 
 the snow-sunnnits blend indistinguishahlv with the clouds. 
 The castle, alas ! is closed for repairs ; the Prince is in 
 Vienna, at court ; but his brother, who acts as Regent, is 
 encountered driving" swiftly down the mountain — a tine- 
 looking man, with a noble head, to whom the villagers 
 are devoted. 
 
 There is no poverty in Liechtenstein; and that uiiudi 
 more than compensates for there being no millionaires. 
 Its deep valleys are not disturbed by the hoot of the 
 locomotive; a pastoral people is content to remain so, 
 fearing God, honouring the Prince, untroubled by tourists 
 — they never had had an American before at the Lion! — 
 and preserving "the constant custom of the antique world." 
 Ah, if only one could carry away from the tri])le summit 
 of Die Drel Sclnorsteni some balsam that coidd soothe 
 overwrought nerves and lu'ing peace to aching brains in 
 the midst of our turmoil ! 
 
 
GANDRIA 
 
 IF some one were to challenge me abruptly : "Name the 
 most beautiful place you have seen this summer," the 
 word coming automatically to my lips would be "Gan- 
 dria/' And yet few travellers would recognize the name, 
 fewer could gloat over the memory of a visit there. It 
 is one side the main courses of globe-trotting Americans ; 
 unfashionable, simple, primitive, exquisite. 
 
 I left Chur reluctantly, journeyed by the incredibly 
 beautiful Albula railway to St. Moritz, visited all the 
 Engadine, descended the Maloja Pass in a dream of 
 delight, revisited Como, and crossed from Menaggio to 
 Porlezza, en route for Lugano. This series of Reisehilder 
 would grow endless if I tried to do justice only to those 
 stages of travel named above. So I content myself with 
 recounting them. But I cannot hurry past Gandria ! 
 
 The little steamer from Porlezza sailed westward over 
 the beryl-colored waters of the Lake of Lugano, into en- 
 chantment. The mountains round about were unreally 
 beautiful, like visions raised by wizardry. The castles 
 crowning inaccessible crags, the ancient churches whose 
 frescoed outer walls showed dim saints in faded glories, 
 the villas seated by the water's ed^'e, washino; white feet 
 
 
in the lake, all glowed with the radiance of fairyland. Was 
 
 it a painted curtain in yonie prodigious theatre '. Or had 
 
 my own fancy created and projected it all, combining frag- 
 
 \\ ^ ments of ]3ictnresqne recollections, out of art and literature 
 
 ^'^■&fzJ and travel, kaleidoscope-fashion, into one great mosaic of 
 
 1 supernal heanty !' As I wondered, we turned northward 
 
 GANDEIA AND THE LAKE OF LUGANO. 
 
 to the Swiss bank, and Gandria came in sight. My heart 
 thrilled with instant recognition ; I had never seen it 
 before, nor heard of it, yet this was my dream-to^vn, 
 familiar even in its strangeness : "the place I long had 
 sought." I was not long in deciding: and soon I sat at 
 home on the balcony of the Seehof, basking in the Sep- 
 tember sunshine, with a panorama absolutely uiatchless 
 on every side. 
 
Picture to yourself au almost vertical mountaiu-side, 
 clothed with viuevards, olive-orchards, aud stately cypress. 
 'No road traverses it ; but a narrow foot-path is cut into 
 the rock or winds by the very margin of the lake. A 
 great crag, the Kock of Gandria, juts out abruptly, shelter- 
 ing a little town that clings and clambers up from the 
 
 water in a tangle of red roofs, 
 Avliite walls, twisting rougii- 
 ])aved vicoli too strait to be 
 called streets, where never 
 horse-hoofs have s o u n d e d. 
 ( 'liti'-dwellers these Gandrians 
 uiight almost name them- 
 selves ; and yet patches of gar- 
 den glow with flowers on every 
 side. The cleanly, cheerful 
 inn overhangs the water, so 
 that, feasting on repasts of 
 which the food on the table is 
 oidy a small ])art, one can 
 watch the fish swimming about, 
 waiting patiently for the 
 crumbs they ex]ject as their 
 share, and hear the ])leasant 
 plash as the stalwart young seminarian, black-cassocked, 
 with a blue tassel to his biretta, rows back from the other 
 side of the lake, standing to his oars and facing the bow. 
 
 Idle tiny foot-path back of ihc inn tunnels its way 
 under houses, with arches ont of the crannies in which 
 lizards dart back and forth. It turns sliarj) corners, nar- 
 
 TllE lailNE-l-'AI-L. 
 

 1 e I 
 
 TT" 
 
 '\,*l n 
 
 
 n::^ 
 
 " ''!< 
 
 rows so that a full-sized man grows tliouglitfiil ai 
 2)ossibility (if being imprisoned, then \vi(h'ns out into a 
 microscopic ptazzeffa. Sitting in the cool shade of a deep 
 door-way is a radiantly smiling young girl, whom the 
 camera captures before she is aware of it. But she smiles 
 again on the forest iere, and allows another ])icture to be 
 made, once reassured that it is not for a picture-postcard. 
 Black-haired, black-eyed, soft-voiced, thoroughly Italian 
 though native Swiss, I salute you, little Thea Giandxiuiui, 
 blossoming in my memory as one of the flowers of 
 (landria ! 
 
 The streets of Lugano are crowded with a cosmopolitan 
 multitude. Echoes of "The Merry Widow'' are heard 
 from the opera h<»use, and the croupier croaks his im- 
 varying "Faifes ros jcux, le jeu est fait, rleii iie ra plus.'' 
 in the Kursaal. Motor-cars and tramways and Paris 
 gowns and ear-rings do all they can to spoil the glory of 
 the lake and the mountains rising round it. But Gandria, 
 au hour's walk away, is still Arcadian, unsophisticated, 
 ineffaljly virginal. I dream of returning sometime, un- 
 hurried, serene, to sit pensive on the balcony of the SeeJiof 
 and watch the panorama pass from dawn till dusk, at 
 })eace in the midst of beauty which my experience knows 
 not how to parallel. 
 
 It was less than a day's journey from Lugano, liy the 
 St. Gotthard Tunnel, to the very opposite side of Switzer- 
 land, Schaftliausen, a picturesque imperial city only con- 
 federate with Switzerland for three or foui- centuries, and 
 preserving a <j,reat deal of its media'vai character still. 
 Those who \'isit Schaftliausen are supposed to come chiefly 
 
 '"rri 
 
for tlio sake of the Uliiue-fall ; but, to be frank, I found 
 less to interest me there, where the Rhine drops down less 
 than a hundred feet under Schloss Laufen, than in the 
 carved and painted house-fronts, encrusted with ornamen- 
 tation, the old fortress commanding the city, and the 
 eleventh-century minster where, though all else has been 
 laid waste, the ancient l)cll is reverently preserved, M'ith its 
 
 inscri}»tion that ins}>ired Schil- 
 ler's "Song of the Bell" : 
 "]ir(is coco, niocfiios j)Ja)i(/o, 
 fiili/uca fcait(/o." 
 
 But I remember with most 
 delight the long Avalk at sun- 
 set, along the left bank of the 
 Bhine, with rustling l)eech- 
 woods and vineyards alternat- 
 ing. The road ascended stead- 
 ily from Laufen; and I had it 
 (piite to myself until I came 
 ii])on a peasant-mother and her 
 tive children, all working in 
 a narrow field of potatoes be- 
 tween the highway and the forest. They weren't like my 
 marvellous Walcheren peasant-folk, beautiful and radiant 
 and sunny ; but they had a charm of their own, shy, serious, 
 pale faces l)rightening into timid, friendly smiles when 
 they found that the Herrschaft could speak their language 
 and liked children. They were not crushed by their bur- 
 then into something like mere animalism, as the peasants 
 of eastern Europe so often seem to be; and we got to be 
 
 THE SCHILLKR, BELL, 
 SCHAEFHAUSEN. 
 
ill 
 
 
 -^^ra 
 
 GANDRIA 
 
 69 
 
 good friends, little Hedwig Sigg and her small brothers 
 and sisters, before I hurried on past Flurlingen, across 
 the Rhine to my inn. After all, people are better than 
 castles, or cathedrals, or cataracts ; and I never cease to 
 wonder and praise God that, for all it's a fallen world, 
 so much of His image shines out from the human creatures 
 He has made. 
 
 ■^- ■ y^ 
 
mm 
 
 FLANDERS AND ZEELAND 
 'ERE is the last of these travel-letters, which have 
 made _yoii sharers of my EiirojK'aii recollections, at 
 'ast ill part, this sniiimer. ISTow, safe home and at work 
 
 again, my mind turns 
 back to the last days of 
 a long and ex^inisitcly 
 \'ari('(l journey, aiul I 
 tind myself living over 
 Low ( *onntries ex])eri- 
 eiices with ])eciiliar de- 
 light. 
 
 We stopped, last 
 time, at Schaffhausen. 
 Picture, thereafter, a 
 liasly journey l)ack t(i 
 I he Thunersee, and then 
 a glim])se of the I>lack 
 Eorest, with Freihurg 
 for a starting-point and 
 warm-hearted German 
 friemls for comrades. 
 Ah, how gorgeous the 
 cost nines, how sjdendid 
 THE EOAD TO KEST. tile old miiistcr, how re- 
 
 1 
 
 -.3 
 
 S 
 
 I 
 
 ■25 
 
 
 ' \r <^ci<iy''J'^3^j'^:iiy XT '•<3^ xi' ^Sv>'SQs^'^ ''~io^'#S(is^' xi' "^ci^ V '■ 
 
 ' -IJ-' ^iOCrf-- -J ■^iSQi^'V <53C>-"\r'^^ 
 
FLANDERS AND ZEELAND 
 
 freshing the balsain-perfiuned air from ilic piuc-wdod 
 Treves next, with its snperl> Roman rnins, so vast tliat n 
 is amazing how few traveHers see them; the viiic-clnd 
 valh'v of the Moselle; the Ardennes oiu-e more; and ilu'ii, 
 the Netherlands I I like to think of lielgium and Holland 
 together, despite the rude divorc(^ of 1830. A common 
 language, eonnnon traditions, even the meinorv (»f famih' 
 qnarrels, nnd\e them seem one ])('o])|c, thouiih now nndcr 
 two governments; and 
 art and architecture 
 have so nianv points 
 of identity that no di- 
 vision other than an 
 ;irl)iti'arv one can l)e 
 nuidc. 
 
 A little visit to 
 Ghent first, under the 
 ])leasantest guidance : 
 l/( iK'/ifc t'^unoiuie.'thh'- 
 teen-year-old daughter 
 of M. le C^apitaine- 
 (.'omnian<]ant D., of 
 the forces garris(»ning 
 the ( 'itadel, is (piite an 
 old friend, and her de- 
 lightful parents knew 
 how to nuike the glo- 
 rious past of Ghent 
 seem alive once more. 
 Thirteen centuries old, 
 
 ,^xr'\SDC=i''x/^ 
 
 V ^40(i#' Xr ^J^WvJ-'iJCi^ y ^-"=:"^S!i*'' V ^^DCiJ-' -_r ^SOC:^' -J' "-'^Oirf' V ^iO 
 
Lirtliplace of Charles ^"., adorned with magnitieent 
 churches, and gnarding, in the (Cathedral of St. Bavon, as 
 its chiefest treasure, "The Adoration of the Immaculate 
 Lamb," by the l:)rothers Van Eyck, Ghent is well worth 
 seeing; but I own that the charming family life of my 
 Belgian friends there interested me UKu^e, even, than the 
 gloomy majesty of the old Castle of the Counts of Flan- 
 
 mm 
 
 WEST no V 
 
 TJIK BISHOP S PALACE. 
 
 ders. M. le Commandant was one of the first party of 
 explorers to traverse the Congo, thirty-five years ago. If 
 only the Congo had been left in hands like his, there would 
 be no need for reform of abuses, I am sure. 
 
 Kext, to Bruges, an hour away, for another visit to a 
 Belgian household. One has not seen a country who 
 knows nothing of its home life. I wish I could show you 
 that stately patrician house on the Eue Baudouin Osten, 
 built in 1400, where a famous Belgian scientist spends 
 
n — g--r|CSv^A/r7r^^•^ 
 
 :::^'^/'i^<^ cr io. 
 
 :-^ 
 
 O^ 
 
 ;^i? 
 
 ^v€ 
 
 FLANDERS AND ZEELAND 
 
 his serene and godly old age, in an atmosphere of radiant 
 hospitality and nnatfeeted, simple kindness snch as makes 
 a traveller feel no stranger nnder that roof. Here, too, 
 is another military household; for the daughter is wife 
 of an oihcer of high rank, splendid to see in his uniform 
 and decorations ; and Yvonne and Claire, the little daugh- 
 ters, are friends of Simonne and of me. Everyone going 
 
 to Bruges sees the 
 Belfry, the Chapel 
 of the Sacred 
 Blood, the J\lem- 
 lings in the hospi- 
 tal, and the tombs 
 of Charles the 
 Bold and Mary of 
 Burgundy ; and all 
 are well worth see- 
 ing. But very few 
 gain entrance to 
 the wonderful lace- 
 school of the Sis- 
 ters of the Assump- 
 tion, sheltered in an old, old, peaceful convent whose 
 weathered red brick cloisters show medallions of Maxi- 
 milian and Mary, its founders. A habitation of peace, 
 indeed ; and gentle old Soeur Leonie, standing between my 
 little companions to be photographed in one of the hushed, 
 snnny quadrangles, was the very impersonation of une 
 honne Religieuse. Bnif/es la morte. they call it; ah, no; 
 so long as charity and piety reuiain, with courtesy and 
 
 yVOXXE AND CLAIRE 
 
 I?' wl'''7,'^'''v1t2'^'>r'f!l'^'' 
 
■dJ'<- 
 
 74 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 li<>s]»iriilit_v to strauiivrs, .Bruges will be alive far more 
 
 ti'iily than many a I>al)ylon, city of confusion and gree(l. 
 
 I5nt 1 mnst hurry on for a farewell picture of Wal- 
 
 (-hcrcii. All through the suiumer, even aiuong the Alps, 
 
 1 had been singing : 
 
 "My lieart's in tlie Xetheil;ind,s. my lu'art is not liere : 
 My heart's in the Netherlands, with Willcniina dear. 
 With Willeniina Wouters, and Jannetjc and do; 
 ^\v lieart it is in \\'al(dierpn. wlicrcNcr I nia\' yo.'' 
 
 M 
 
 ci^xr~^' 
 
 KMTTEKS IX THE SUA'. 
 
 Whcrtd'ore, sa\'iug the 1)est for the hist, I l)et()olv: uiysclf 
 once more to _M iddclhurg, across the Scheldt, and walked 
 thence, eagerly, impatiently, along those wonderful roads 
 to rest, every ste]> taking me out of our great busy world 
 into a sweet, ohi-fashionccl Kden where onc^ almost discerns 
 nnf alien hnman nature E\ervwhere 1 met familiar faces, 
 smiling ont from under coif or round hat, with cheerful 
 greetings and wa\'ing hands. The sky was pearly, like 
 
 3 
 

 ^m 
 
 FLANDERS AND ZEELAND 
 
 75 
 
 1^ 
 
 mM 
 
 the inside of a shell; the ail' was pleasantly salt; the 
 great white farm-wagons hnnlxTcd hy on their blue 
 Avheels ; and Ldiu/r Jan rained down ni(dod_v fi'oni his 
 never-failing carillon, '"llonie again/' I exnlted, forget- 
 ting a niinnte that my home lay across the Atlantic and 
 conscions only that T w^as once more in my own \Valch(n"eii. 
 At ()ostka])elle they were jnst coming ont of chnreh. 
 these good ( 'ah'inistic ])easants, the men hi-st, then the 
 
 31 
 
 ^^ 
 
 zoutej.a^;de : st. willibroed s tow'x. 
 
 '^SIjM women and children. Xo vacant seats there, barcdy 
 
 ^^y^ standing-room foi" late-comers; and the very fiedds ])nt on 
 
 i| I j! a Snnday look, to harmonize with the /rci-lr-l'lcrf of the 
 
 ])easants. Beyond lay Westhove, shidtei'ed hy the dnnes, 
 
 :^.- ^.: embowered in wondrons l)oskages of l)e<'(di and hiridi whose 
 
 "' ' -"^ age is beyond reckoning, and girdled with a moat now as 
 
 in the brave old days when it was the smnmer-])alaee of 
 
 the Bishops of AFichbdlnrrg. The /h'rronni/c Kcrlr made 
 
 ^^ 
 
 T^fyVKiWyy? 
 
 
 :^>^ 
 
short work of Bisliop.s, alas I but Slot Wostliove still stands, 
 its courts echoing to the happy voices of scores of orphans 
 and waifs housed there now. 
 
 ^"istas of purple and emerald shadows stretch bound- 
 lessly, it ai3pears ; but one comes at last to the high dunes, 
 and Domburg, C^ity of the Temple, snuggled in behind 
 them, jjeaceful and sedate, with its Roman bridge and a 
 thousand Roman relics of the day when ISTehalennia was 
 worshipped here. The fishermen profess to show one, 
 not far out from shore, Avhite marble ruins under the sea, 
 where once the Roman city stood. Let antiquarians puz- 
 zle over it if they will: for me, the crash of the surf 
 suffices, wdth the merry voices of the children as they 
 dance in rounds along the beach. A living peasant-child 
 is worth all the antiquities under the earth, me judice. 
 
 There is a wonderfully comfortable inn on the Dom- 
 burg dunes, unpretentious but renowned. Two German 
 roj'alties were there incognifi when it sheltered me, to- 
 gether with Dutch gentlefolk and a few Germans and 
 Belgians — no Americans or English. And there I rested, 
 in the fullest sense of that word, mind and body at j^eace, 
 in an ideal atmosphere. 
 
 Across the fields some miles away lies Westkapelle, 
 with the highest dykes in Holland, and its strange little 
 colony of J^orwegians, who have kept their blood unmixed 
 and their racial ty]ie through several centuries. Beyond 
 that, the dunes rising ever higher, Zoutelande hides: a 
 fairyland village, all red-roofed cottages immaculately 
 clean, with wheat-fields coming up to the churchyard. 
 The streets are actuallv lower than the sea outside; but 
 
^-^^^ 
 
 still the miraculous well of good St. Willibrord furnishes 
 fresh water unfailing to the villagers, albeit not one is 
 left to invoke the A230stle of Walcheren. The Protestant 
 pastor, entering the village church, steps upon a stone 
 bearing a carved chalice and paten, with the name of the 
 last priest to lift up holv hands in that sanctuary. But 
 it is idle to mourn, when Janna Dingmans and Klazina 
 Wondergem are knitting in the sun, making the stockings 
 which wear out so fast in the wooden shoes, and ready 
 to exchange sweet civilities with their American Domine- 
 friend of the year before. We climb the dunes together, 
 at sunset. The children dance gaily in the bright level 
 beams that gild the Scheldt, touch the tower of the old 
 abhey at Middelburg with fire, and bring out of obscurity 
 the mighty bulk of the ancient minster at Veere, far across 
 the island. One last look over the dreamy, enchanted 
 meadows ; the warm clasp of tiny fingers ; "Good-bye, dar- 
 ling little friends ; don't grow up till I see you again, 
 please God." Ah, though I write in a metropolitan rec- 
 tory three thousand five hundred miles from Walcheren, 
 it seems very near and unspeakably dear. When time and 
 space have ceased to be, I want to claim its peace and 
 purity and the joyanee of its children for ]iart of my 
 heaven. 
 
 jrTT!^:<y)^m> 
 
m^Mi^m^ 
 
 
 i^ 
 
 i 
 
 SECOND SERIES 
 
 1911 
 
'mm 
 
 WHAT hiase idiot ever said that one ocean voyage 
 is nnieli like another ? I have made not a few, 
 and every one has an individuality of its own, standing 
 out clearly in my memory: most of them perpetual joys 
 in the recollection, none of them marred by the memory 
 of mal de mer, but all of them different. The last one 
 has its proper character ; and though it has become his- 
 tory already, it is in a special binding of its own. 
 
 It was blistering when the good old Gaelic steamed 
 down the harbor that brilliant Monday afternoon, bearing 
 Sebastian and me, with two hundred other first cabin 
 passengers, and uncounted "human warious" in the steer- 
 age. The hot wave with which July began had just 
 reached the seaboard ; indeed, it followed us more than 
 half-way across, though its power was mercifully re- 
 strained. But as we passed the old fort on the island, 
 where the dearest figure of all waved a farewell salute, 
 a breath of freshness came to us from the open sea, as if 
 to soften the pain of parting ; and the days that passed 
 all too quickly more than fulfilled that first promise. 
 Balmy airs, seas glassy-smooth, only a little fog, and mar- 
 vellously good society, made it a memorable voyage. May 
 
I attempt some thumb-nail sketclies of my fellow-passen- 
 gers ? 
 
 There A\'ere, first, two or three "])ersonally eoii(ln('te(r' 
 parties, eliuging together in the fellowshi]) of a common 
 dependenee. (Small room for individuality, when one is 
 chained to a wdieel ! ) llien three professors, learned, il- 
 lustrious, yet all the more heartily entering into shutHe- 
 board, renuaubering how sweet it is to unbend at the 
 proper tinu'. C^ambridge, Ann Arbor, Annapolis, are the 
 richer for men so wisely simple. Of ])arsons, not a few. 
 Several genial brethren of the Latin obedience, who, after 
 a day or so of ceremonial garb, followed the pattern set 
 them by the American })riests and jippeared in mufti — 
 much the cooler in conse(|uence, and none the less re\'ereud. 
 One of them was an Italinn, L'oiikiiki di lionia. he boasted; 
 full of humour, a little (lis]»osed to feel llial the Modernists 
 ha<l had too severe treatment, and smiling sardonically 
 when Infallibility was mentioned, but with all the X'nlgate 
 at his tongne's end to nuiintain the I'apal sense <d' Tii es 
 Pciriis. Another was Irish, and greatly interested in 
 hearing a C^atholicity maintained that was not Konian, 
 Imt studi(»iisly declining controversy, he sai<l ; while a 
 thii'd had been lu'ought u]» a Methodist, and was, in con- 
 secpience violently ultramontane. Of ()ur o\vn I forl)ear 
 to speak. School-girls in alMindance (alas! too many of 
 them the "Daisy Millei'" type that rasps one's uer\-es. and 
 makes "the American x-oiee" a ])ro\'ei'b of i'e])n>a(di) ; men 
 of affairs, some (d' them illnstratiug extraordinarily that 
 combination of busim^ss acumen and wide iutcdlectual 
 sympathy which is so rare and so admii'able; a well-known 
 
 
luiisiciaii, whose ironic liuiiioiii' kc]il liis t;il)lc in a continnal 
 ripple of appreciation; a eharniinij,' girl-gTaduate, gra- 
 cious and simple and swiftly responsive, hearinii,' lier lau- 
 rels and lier learning lightly, but with a face set toward 
 that "dear city of C^ecrops," where still the wdse gather 
 from roinid the globe to search for the secret of .Vthenian 
 culture. (She, inc judice. had fonnd it already.) Oh, 
 it w\as a goodly company that sat on the Gaelic's decks 
 and made friends. T, who have nnudi to reniend)er in a 
 singularly happy life, shall never f(n'get the discussions 
 wdiich settled the affairs of Europe, fought over all the 
 battles of the Ch'omwellian Rebellion, solved the social and 
 industrial ])rol)lems of our own Tiepublic (or seemed at 
 the moment to do so), and gave, besides, that keenest of 
 intellectual delights, to w^atch the self-revelation of strong 
 and well-stored minds. There were academic personages 
 by the dozen, cumbered with letters after their names 
 ("small l:»y fJcf/i'ccs:" some malicious person might have 
 quoted) ; but it is no reflecti(Ui on them to say that the 
 cleverest ])artici])ant in all those tournaments of wit Avas 
 a banker wdio had never had a term in colleg(\ (Of 
 course, he had lived his life in Boston, wdiich nuiy ])artly 
 account for it. Perhaps you know the story wdiich 
 trickled out from the House of Bishops years ag(i, when 
 the name of a newly-elected Bishop w^as under c(msidera- 
 tion. "He is not a university graduate, T note,'' said one 
 of the older prelates; "is he intellectually ecjuipped for so 
 hiiih an office?" To wdiich the discerning Bishoj) of 
 jMassachusetts is said to have replied : "Well, he has li\-ed 
 for many years in Boston" — and was unable to linish his 
 
 ^^ 
 
 CsS^ V <^:^' ^J ■ 
 
 ' "U ~^ i^' XT '<iCiO^ 
 
 •j3^<*gQ-5' TT vaos^ -J" "-sacs' V --iOOi^' •0"^(iS^ 1 
 
iutended tribute, for the episcopal mirth that accepted his 
 fragmentary utterance as final ! ) 
 
 So, too, the moonlit evenings were memorable, when 
 the children of all ages below eighty gathered round to 
 hear ghost-stories from a priest who makes the occult a 
 specialty, and can freeze your blood with tales of mystery, 
 all certified authentic and told with convincing conviction. 
 Even the concert Avas not stupid ; and a verse out of one 
 of the songs, "A Child's Prayer," has run in my mind 
 often since, because of its sweet directness : 
 
 "Mother smacks me when I'm naughty, 
 Father scolds me when I'm bad: 
 But if You'll just please forgive me, 
 I shall be most awf'ly glad." 
 
 All good things come to an end, on sea or land, how- 
 ever; and one fine morning Ave landed in Liverpool. 
 An express train carried most of the uuAvise direct to 
 London. 'Not that to leave Liverpool as fast as possible is 
 unwise ; but that going straight up to toAvn is, Avhen all 
 the real England Avaits — the England of lovely lanes Avith 
 blossoming quickset hedges, of gray church-toAvers rising 
 above thatch-roofed cottages, and mysterious forest-glades 
 that survive to shoAv Avhat Broceliande must have been ; 
 of rosy old men and Avomen standing by gates that open 
 into Fairyland, and sAA^ee't-voiced, modest, friendly chil- 
 dren so gentle and loving that one recalls the comment on 
 St. BonaA^enture : "In Brother BonaA^entura, Adam seems 
 never to have fallen" ; the land Avhere every day at mid- 
 afternoon the tea-table magically spreads itself in some 
 garden nook, and Avandering Americans who don't speak 
 
 W^ 
 
tbruiigli their noses liiid hospitable hands beckoning al- 
 ways throngh doorways that swing wide. Of that Eng- 
 land he knows nothing who knows only London, Dr. John- 
 son to the contrary notwithstanding, ^ay, more, the 
 English themselves do not know it as well as we who are 
 at home there and yet sufficiently detached to be objective 
 in our enjoyment of it. 
 
 All England is not like that, of course. There are 
 hideous factory towns, and vulgar Suburbia, and un- 
 speakably gray and squalid slums such as our cities can- 
 not match, thank God; there are acres of deadly British 
 respectability, peopled by British matrons and snobs of 
 other sorts; and even in the country the public-house is 
 the dragon of present days, with no St. George ! 
 
 But my England, that I love ineffably, swells over the 
 Sussex downs and the chalk hills of Kent, lies in the dales 
 of Westmorland or among Worcester orchards, stretches 
 round the Wrekin. (not forgetting Little Wenlock!), ex- 
 pands in the wide fields of Hertfordshire and over the 
 Yorkshire Wolds, blushes among Devon lanes, fades away 
 in the misty distances of the Fens, and nestles close where 
 sweet Thames runs softly. And always the centre of it 
 is that venerable Mother that renews her youth like the 
 eagle's, older though she is than the realm itself ; drugged 
 and robbed in bygone days, threatened to-day with fresh 
 violence and contumely by that base confederation of 
 Babylonians, Moabites, and Hagarenes wherein Recusants, 
 Dissenters, and Infidels all have their part, but still 
 august, virginal, humble, and faithful, true Spouse of 
 Christ for English-speaking folk in every land — the 
 
 
 ■:i^''v''%cc^\"'^~f=- 
 
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 ■~\r''%^c^\j 
 
 
Church of Alban, of Aidan, of Chad and Bedc and Hilda, 
 of Dnnstan and Beeket and Kol>ort Grossetete, of John 
 Ball and Langland, of Andrewes and Hooker, of Land 
 and the Rojal Martyr he fortified so that out of weakness 
 came strength sufficient to lay down his life for the wit- 
 ness of Jesus ; the ( 'hurch of Ken and Wilson and the 
 Wesleys, of Pusej and Keble and jSTeale, of Hannington 
 and Patteson, of Kingsley and IMaurice, of Lowder and 
 Mackonochie and Dolling — yes, and the Church of Gore 
 and Winnington-Ingi'ani and Lang to-day. 
 
 Forgive this Homeric catalogue, but my heart burns 
 within me when I muse. Good old Enoland ! 
 
 It was not to London that Sebastian and 1 turned 
 our feet, you may be sure, after the adieux had all l)een 
 sj^oken, and the jiromises to meet again had l)een made. 
 
 We saw the new Cathedral rising on its height, its 
 steel skeleton speaking of a true modernism even as its 
 exquisite Lady Chapel, completed, witnesses to the ancient 
 Faith ; we paid our respects to "Dante's Dream" and 
 "Sponsa do Libano" in the Walker Gallery (joying to lind 
 close by a marvellous glimpse of our own Walcheren, 
 "La Vie Paysanne," by Cecil Jay Hitchcock), and then 
 hurried northward to the Lakes, terra inror/niia to us both, 
 except on the pages of books. 
 
 What a contrast a few hours made I We left ugly 
 scpiare miles of lousiness, tempered with an Orangemen's 
 row (for it was July 12th that we landed), and found our- 
 selves under the shadow of Scat Sandal, where Grasmere 
 
 "S^ 
 
reflects the crags and forests that encircle it, in such com- 
 fort as only a really good English inn can give. 
 
 "Whoe'er lias travelled life's dull round. 
 Whate'er his stages may have been, 
 Must sigh to think he still has found 
 His warmest welcome at an inn." 
 
 So Shenstone wrote, was it not ? on a pane of the ''Red 
 Lion" at Henley : excuse ever since for very, very long 
 bills. I can't make the sentiment mine ; and yet I think 
 I understand it. To take mine ease in mine inn : that is 
 much, indeed. And I pay a debt when I praise the 
 Prince of Wales Lake Hotel, by Grasmere. Try it some 
 time, if you want joy and peace. 
 
 There are many lakelets in that country (the largest 
 of them small enough, judged by our standards, and none 
 so lovely as those aquae refectionis that gem Central J^ew 
 York or Wisconsin). But at Grasmere one has the best 
 of all the Lake Country, without the travail of eland )ering 
 over naked mountain-sides and through breathless, blister- 
 ing passes. Keswick is too crowded and too "unco guid" ; 
 besides, the mountains are not at hand there. Windermere 
 is cluttered with villas ; and Trout]:)eck, charming as it is, is 
 a little remote. But Grasmere is ideal. A clean village on 
 a tiny stream, the Rothay, which mirrors the tower of the 
 ancient parish church ( kSaxon work there, they say) ; there 
 are high hills on every side, with narrow valleys widening 
 out into fertile dales overhung by precipices. The lake 
 itself is very small, no more than a pond, but it reflects the 
 forest above it and the stern outlines of the mountains ; and 
 to drift on its surface in the lone: northern twilio-ht, talk- 
 
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 '"■'i^ 
 
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 <Syu25 
 
 THE VOYAGE, AND GRASMERE 
 
 89 
 
 
 OH 
 it 
 
 
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 mm^^ 
 
iiig of liigii tilings with cougciual fonirutk'.s, while the 
 breeze acros.s the hay-lields hrings watts of incense sweeter 
 than any thnrifer of earth knows, is a memorable delight. 
 
 Wordsworth is l)uried in the ehnrchvard, close to the 
 little stream ; and many people who cannot see nature 
 except as described on printed pages, go to Grasmere with 
 a volume of his poems in their hands and spend all their 
 time identifying allusions. A very profitless occupation, 
 like that of the silly people who devote themselves on 
 mountain-tops to the ''panoramas" that tell you the names 
 of distant peaks, instead of tilling their vision with the 
 splendour of the actual prospect. I shall enjoy Words- 
 worth more, in my own library, for having visited the 
 scenes of which he loved to write ; but I had something 
 better to do there than pore over books. Just to lie lentus 
 in umbra on the hillock that rises abruptly from Squire 
 Cowperthwaite's meadows on the Keswick Road, breath- 
 ing the hay-harvest breeze and watching the mowers at 
 their rhythmic task, was soul-filling. And when Phyllis, 
 the dear small daughter of the Lancrigg gardener, divided 
 the season's last box of strawberries with me by the bank of 
 Dead Man's Pool (gruesomely incongruous name for a 
 veritable Diana's bath), and guided me up Sour-Milk 
 Force to the solemn isolation of Easedale Tarn, I was 
 ready to let all poets wait till autumn and live my po<4ry 
 for the time. 
 
 Sunday morning at early Mass there was a good 
 assembly of the faithful. But at half after ten came the 
 tragic example of a persevering tradition. Besides the 
 summer visitors, the parish congregation consisted of a 
 
few families of the neighhc Hiring gcntrv, the shopkeepers 
 of the vilhxge, the shepherds and farm labourc^-s of the 
 region, and the chihlreii. For them, Morning Prayer 
 dragged its slow length along: the Psalter snng to utterly 
 iri'ational Anglican chants, two long lessons, which re- 
 
 GKAiSMEKE PARISH CHUKCIl 
 
 quired close attention if they were to be at all understood 
 by the hearers, Te Deiun and Bciwdtctiis. and the prayers 
 — altogether, just under an hour. Followed a sermon by 
 a dear old priest from India, who told the shepherds that 
 the progress of the Brahmo and Arya Somaj was pro- 
 foundly sigiiiticant, and that the Sudras and outcastes w^ere 
 especially susc('])tible to Moslem influence. (I wondered 
 
 :^>^^^^^ 
 
what the shej^herds got from it, true as it was!) Then 
 the children, the shepherds, and most of the rest of the con- 
 gregation solemnly departed, tired enough intellectually 
 if thej had tried to follow all that had gone before, even as 
 was the little company that remained for the Lord's own 
 Service, which is the common people's service, too. Oh 
 for the day when monastic offices of every degree of com- 
 j^Iexity shall 1)0 duly subordinated, and our Eucharistic 
 Lord shall be lifted up everywhere, drawing all men 
 unto Him I 
 
v^ 
 
 SHROPSHIRE, THE WELSH BORDER, AND CALDEY 
 
 WE were talking of England in general, and of the 
 Lake Conntry in particular, last time I wrote, 
 and |)erliai3S you smiled at my enthusiasm. Well, let it 
 be so. I repudiate indignantly the accusation of being 
 Anglomaniae, l:)nt I rejoice in confessing myself Anglo- 
 phile. And that in no blind, indiscriminate admiration, 
 but with all due allowances for the unlovely and the blame- 
 worthy; still the fact stands that every visit to England 
 makes me love her better, so that I feel I have a kind of 
 dual citizenship, and look at the Union Jack with a per- 
 sonal pride of possession only second to what thrills me 
 when the Flower-flag of the Great Republic blossoms for 
 me against an alien sky. 
 
 Travelling once across Bavaria, my neighbour was a 
 charming English school-girl, daughter of an army officer 
 in Guernsey, who talked of many things with the delicious 
 simplicity that only Bacl'fisch possess. 
 
 "Isn't it absiTrd V she said ; "they won't let you snap 
 a kodak anywhere near the old fortifications on Guern- 
 sey." 
 
 "Afraid of spies," I said. 
 
 "'Yes ; but they might let English and Americans, even 
 if they do keep out Germans." 
 
 ;^^3^ 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 "You are wvx kind to put us in," I answered. 
 
 "Oil, but Americans are British subjects, aren't they ?" 
 
 I repressed a smile, and explained that that matter 
 had l;)een settled in a contraiv sense some four generations 
 ago. 
 
 "Well, if they aren't, it's all the same thing. They 
 are just like our own people, and we never could have a 
 war, could we ?" 
 
 "God forbid!" I answered, from a full heart. 
 
 (Jnce upon a time, in the dark ages when our school 
 histories held up "the Bridish" ( as the small boys always 
 called them) to our hatred, and congressmen twisted the 
 Lion's tail, with one eye on the watching A. O. IT. vote; 
 when, on the other side, shops in Regent Street bore a card 
 in their windows, "American custom not desired" ; an 
 ill-lu'cd Englishwonuin said to an American visitor: "Oh, 
 you know, we all love Americans, though we detest 
 America" ; to whom came the swift retort : "Tveally ? 
 With US it's the other way: we love England and detest 
 the English!" 
 
 All that, thank God, is changed now ; and though ig- 
 norance, and prejudice that rests on it, still survive in 
 spots, there is in effect an Anglo-American understanding 
 which is, I believe, the greatest factor in the world's peace 
 to-day. And the American traveller in England finds him- 
 self welcomed with a cordial hospitality that must stimulate 
 his best efforts to repay on his o^vn side the Atlantic. 
 
 I wish I could write frankly and intimately about 
 recent English experiences of mine ; but The Living 
 Church is read there as at home, and one must not turn 
 
 c^\/^. 
 
rnmpmi^ 
 
 'mumsft:^mfM 
 
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 SHROPSHIRE, THE WELSH BORDER, AND CALDEY 95 
 
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 VALLE CRUCIS^ WEST WALL 
 
 :^^^^^c2^'c^^'^^V^^' 
 
his gracious hosts and dear friends into "copy" without 
 leave. Still, a few impressions may j^ass unidentified, 
 though I vouch for the essential accuracy of all except 
 names. 
 
 Some of the pleasantest memories of the summer 
 are associated with a solid, red-brick Georgian mansion, 
 standing near to the street in an ancient market-town close 
 by the A¥elsh border. A beautiful garden opens behind it, 
 full of roses and box hedges and children, and watched 
 over by the square tower of the parish church. Town and 
 church alike are named after the holy British king who 
 was slain in battle near by; and devout folk to this very 
 day go to drink from the wishing-well that sprang up 
 where his body reposed in a little dingle sheltered from 
 heathen search. Some wishes made there do come to pass : 
 I know, for two years ago I wished that I might return 
 again another year ! 
 
 The good doctor has succeeded to a practice held by 
 his father and his grandfather before him ; and in all the 
 countryside no man, not even Lord Vyrnwy himself, is 
 more respected and Ijeloved. It needs two motor-cars to 
 cover his field — fortunately for his guests, since he can 
 use only one at a time. And what is jollier than to explore 
 unfamiliar regions, with Madame or Cecily for a guide ? 
 To whirl at twilight along mysteriously winding roads, 
 fragrant with the exquisite scent of linden blossoms, past 
 some ruined castle whose moat serves now as the village 
 duck-pond ; through tiny nameless hamlets where the cot- 
 tagers come to the doors and wave friendly greetings ; 
 pausing five minutes at a Rommany cauq^ to exchange 
 
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 SHROPSHIRE, THE WELSH BORDER. AND CALDEY 97 
 
 a Kuslifo divviis with the snake-eyed Romaniehals gathered 
 round the camp-lire ; then swooping past a little mere and 
 down a long vista of overarching trees beyond the Hall, 
 until at last, as the shadows deepen and the fragrance of 
 the bracken grows more powerful, we find ourselves back 
 at Brook House door, with Jack and Monica and Philip 
 to welcome us, and supper hospitably spread ; who would 
 not prefer that to all that Piccadilly or Park Lane can 
 offer? 
 
 One day we devoted to Valle Crucis, by Llangollen, 
 and its neighborhood ; Plas Kewydd, where the singular 
 old ladies of Llangollen made their home ; Glyndwf rydwy, 
 haunted by memories of Owen Glyndow^er ; the fragment 
 of Dinas Bran's castle that shows for a landmark ; Chirk 
 Castle, for generations the seat of an ancient family, ''long 
 descended and still descending," but just now alienated 
 from the name by reason of extravagance and improvi- 
 dence ; the village near by, where only this very year the 
 parson sent word to the congregation assembled on a week- 
 day morning that there would be no service, as he was oft" 
 to the hunt (I tell this tale as it was told to me) ; and so 
 back in time for the very centre of all English social life, 
 Tea. Pro avis et focis, translated into English, means, 
 'Tor tea and plum-cake, with thin bread-and-butter" ; and 
 it is not a bad translation. 
 
 ■sm 
 
 TA^ 
 
 ^.>r& 
 
 -5^ 
 
 Valle Crucis is not so commonly visited as Tintern 
 or Rievaulx or Fountains ; but it is every bit as beautiful, 
 in its Welsh valley, with the barren mountains behind and 
 before, a barn-yard at its gate, but, within, all the lovely 
 
 .^'vvy7 
 
 cJK?%i^'tT?;^\?'^^-%'^' 
 
sadness that rli rills one in sacrod places laid waste, bnt not 
 degraded fnrther. When one sees an insolent modern 
 mansion bnilt by sacrilegions hands in the midst of 
 monastic rnins, or, worse vet, the very walls that sheltered 
 lives of nndi\dded prayer and service turned now to com- 
 mon jiurposes, that is intolerable ; it is like a call to battle, 
 nntil one remembers Who has said, ''Vengeance belong- 
 eth nnto Me, I will recompense." But at Valle C^rucis, 
 the west and east walls are almost perfect, except for the 
 glass ; the abbots sleep before the mound that shows where 
 the high altar stood ; the dormitory is habitable, and tables 
 stand in the refectory — spread, alas ! not with such aliment 
 as the Holy Rule allows, l)ut with picture-postcards. In 
 the fish-pond gigantic carp splash as of old, and the east 
 window is reflected ; while just at the edge of the cloister- 
 garth gushes u]i a spring of such exquisite coolness and 
 sweetness that one is never satisfied with drinking from 
 it. Tu the midst of a land l)lighted by the dulness and 
 vulgar ])o]itics to which Dissent has come, it is a comfort 
 to 1)0 reminded how things used to be, under St. David's 
 patronage, among the Ivymry, and how, please God. they 
 shall be again, Satan and Lloyd-George to the contrary 
 notwithstanding. 
 
 One day, returning from that marvel of engineering 
 skill. Lake Vyrnwy, the vast artificial lake which supplies 
 Liverpool with water, we stopped for tea at the rectory of 
 a remote Welsh parish. It stands just under a vertical 
 hillside; and its cool water comes d()\\m from a cave in 
 the mountain where some British saint (unhappily name- 
 less at the moment ") was wont to retire. Lhe tinv villafije 
 
SHROPSHIRE, THE WELSH BORDER, AND CALDEY 99 
 
 in the valley is wholly Welsh ; and its two hundred inhaln- 
 tants turn to the rector as guide, counsellor, medical and 
 legal adviser in all their troubles. Yet half of them go to 
 a Calvinistic chapel. The income of the "living" is some- 
 thing like £120, I believe, according to Crockford; and 
 this is typical of the AVelsh Church, concerning which 
 Mr. Asquith said once, years ago, in a phrase far truer 
 than he realized : "The Church in Wales has laid up 
 treasure here on earth ; but we will show her that she has 
 it where thieves break through and steal !" 
 
 Another afternoon we watched a function typically 
 British, and full of interest every way for observant and 
 sympathetic Americans ; a fete at a country-house, in hon- 
 our of the Territorial Volunteer l^urses — perhaps I haven't 
 their precise title, but it was something like that. Failing 
 conscription, the Government is encouraging a territorial 
 army, i.e., local volunteers measurably well drilled and 
 equipped, to be called on in need ; and, side by side with 
 that, is developing a body of trained nurses ready for field 
 work should war come. Both ideas are admirable, even 
 from the peacemaker's viewpoint; and this was the occa- 
 sion when certificates were to be presented to the ladies 
 who had passed examinations as nurses. Major-General 
 Sir Dominic George, K.C.B., a veteran of the South Afri- 
 can war, arrayed in all his glory, erect and so suspiciously 
 slender that I heard a whisper of "stays," was the hero 
 of the occasion, and spoke quite as well as soldiers usually 
 do. (I made a picture of him while he paused, one hand 
 extended, trying to think of a word!) Boy Scouts were 
 the guard of honour ; there were races and oames, and 
 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 various entertainments in the handsome old house itself. 
 Everybody who had sixpence was there ; and all the world 
 danced merrily on the lawn, to the music of "What's the 
 Use of a Pair o' Kilts V and "Yip-i-ady-i-ay." It was 
 jolly and picturesque and semi-feudal, so to speak ; that is, 
 no one forgot who was who, nor introduced any modern, 
 levelling ideas. I smiled at one feline amenity : "Who's 
 that little girl in white V I asked a new small friend of 
 mine. "Do you mean the mincing minx with the curls ?" 
 came the reply ! 
 
 In the very heart of the town, back of the church, is a 
 lovely meadow park, with fine trees, where sheep pasture 
 and children play ; and I shall not soon forget an hour at 
 sunset, with eight little friends all undcn- ten. They had 
 been reading Scott and Dickens, those dear, rosy, flute- 
 voiced children, and remembered, too, what they had read. 
 But they were as eager for stories told viva voce as any 
 youngsters at home ; and, by way of reward of merit for 
 one's exercise of his small talent in that direction, escorted 
 me to church in a sort of revolving galaxy. Ah, English 
 children of every class and condition are adorable ! 
 
 
 Adieu to Shropshire for the nonce. Of Caldey I 
 have written at length heretofore, so I barely record a 
 second visit to that holy isle. Just now it is in a sort of 
 transition stage, with much building in progress and corre- 
 sponding confusion and upset. There were more people 
 about, too, as sightseers ; and one lost a little of the old 
 peace. The new cha]^el is ample and dignified, and I was 
 fflad to sav a Mass at one of the secular altars, accc^rding 
 
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 SHROPSHIRE, THE WELSH BORDER, AND CALDEY 101 
 
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 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 to the American Rite. But I iiiiist own quite frankly 
 that the eft'ect of the Latin Office and Liturgy (despite 
 Archbishop Temple's allowance of both) seems to me alien 
 and artificial. To find Mr. Riley's Guide to Those Attend- 
 ing High Mass Abroad in the gallery, as an aid to intelli- 
 gent worship on the part of visitors, was only less objec- 
 tionable than to see, lying beside it, a volume prepared for 
 use in congregations of the Papal Obedience attached to 
 Roman Benedictine chapels in Enghnid. Cui hono? In 
 a college, where Latin is a second mother tongue, the case 
 is diif erent ; but I believe there are no university men at 
 Caldey, ludiappily, except one or two of the Oblates, and 
 Latin seems a sort of tour de force, a phonograph pei'form- 
 ance, disedifying and exotic. I hope that, under the wise 
 guidance of some episcopal visitor, two or three anomalies 
 may eventually be corrected ; for, apart from them, it is 
 all so good that one looks for things better yet to come. 
 
 Why write at all ( )f London ? It is too overwhelm- 
 ing ! I know it fairly well ; and whenever I am there, I 
 long inexpressibly for the country. It is a pleasure, I 
 acknowledge, to be greeted by the old head waiter who 
 rememl)ers one's name and asks after the family ; to deal 
 with the ecclesiastical tailors who make hoods for all the 
 universities in the empire and who never expect to be paid 
 until long after one's return to the land of one's OAvn bank 
 account ; to lunch at the Savoy, and dine at the Savage 
 Club, in scintillating society; to pay one's devoir to Ecce 
 Ancilla Domini! and King Cophetua in the Tate Gallery; 
 and to have tea in Kensington Gardens, close to Peter 
 
 >iJ5k^,_-.-; 
 
 r^^y V '^::0'i^ V ■<^5'<75<i5>' V 'i:o^'J'^^ V <i:i><^ V s:i2c::i^ V x^O^^' V '^Q;£>' v' '<:0<::^' '\f ^^^ 
 
Pan's lioiuid Pond. Bnt rlie beat of the waves on the 
 Kentish shingle is better, or the rush of the oncoming tide 
 across Dvmchnrch Sands, where Pollyoolj and the Lnnip 
 were wont to plav, according to their veracious biographer. 
 To sit in the long green avenue of shade they call "The 
 Ladies' Walk," which stretches from the Marina to quaint 
 old Hythe itself (one of the Cinque Ports, though fallen 
 from its glory), is better than to ride in a London motor- 
 bus or drive in Potten Row. There is a grand old church 
 at Hythe, almost unique in the great elevation of the 
 chancel; and it did me good to hear, one bright July 
 Sunday, a sermon to a congregation that thronged it, on 
 the absurdity of demanding "a new Christianity," as if 
 historic facts like those of the Apostles' Creed could change 
 with the passage of centuries into something dilferent from 
 what they were at the beginning. 
 
 I still have York to write about, and Lincolnshire, aud 
 one or two other places; but I must leave them till the 
 next time, I see, lest you grow weary. Meanwhile, as I 
 sit on the little terrace of the tiny inn at Gandria, penning 
 these w^ords while the sunset glow fades on Monte Salva- 
 tore, and Lake Lugano darkens from aquamarine or 
 emerald to the deep green of the jade in my own signet, 
 and look up at the incredible, shadowy outlines of the 
 mountains beyond Oria (poor Fogazzaro's villa ) and San 
 Mamette, with the echo of sweet voices murmuring Tici- 
 nese Italian close by, England seems far ofF, it is true, 
 but very dear aud homelike — ojir Eughiud, who s])eak the 
 English tongue and have God's C^atholic aud A])ostolic 
 Church in Eno-land for our nursins; mother. 
 
 rn 
 
 
 ^sM^r^^m 
 
LINCOLNSHIRE, ELY, ROTORUA, AND HERTFORDSHIRE 
 
 IWlvITE from among the highest Alps, whose glisten- 
 ing summits smite the skv, apparently inaccessible, all 
 aivjnnd me. And so, by the law of association of con- 
 traries, my mind turns back to Lincolnshire and its wide, 
 dreamy expanses where sky and meadow and stnbble-field 
 blend imperceptil)ly, with a wind-mill or a church-spire 
 on the horizon to help one realize distances. In the midst 
 of it is the ancient citadel of Lincoln, city of British, 
 Romans, Saxons, and jSTormans, its acropolis still partly 
 enclosed with Roman walls, and crowned with the most 
 gloriously suggestive and inspiring ecclesiastical building 
 in all England. Architects tell me its west front is a 
 defect ; but it seems to me worthy to mark the very 
 entrance into 'New Jerusalem. Surely, too, the angel-choir 
 is matchless. And when one takes situation and all into 
 the reckoning, with the great names that flash gemlike 
 from its walls, Hugh, and Grossetete, and King, equal to 
 either, it is with hushed voice and reverent step that one 
 climbs the steep ascent, past the Jew's House, and through 
 the arched gateway into the Close. 
 
 Lincoln is on the main line of American travel through 
 England ; and, I regret to add, the hotels show it in their 
 
 ^^ 
 
wretched service. Our fellow-crniiitrynieii have an un- 
 happy art of spoiling English inns : they tip extravagantly 
 and unintelligently ; they are democratic at the wr(jng 
 time ; and one feels the difference as soon as he returns 
 from l;>y-ways into the beaten track. The "White Hart" 
 at Lincoln is as odious as the "Imperiar' at Ilythe is 
 admirable, or the Saracen's Head at Southwell, in its own 
 fashion. But one forgets pett}^ discomforts when he stands 
 in the (Jathedral lil^rary before one of the original copies 
 of Magna Charta and reads: Ecdesia Ajiglicaiia libera sit, 
 with John's signature scrawled at the bottom. Renegade 
 Englishmen indeed they must be, and forgetful of all that 
 chapter in their country's history, who ( like the absurd 
 "Mgr." Benson in his newest delirium of the future) 
 would put once more the freedom of the island-realm at 
 the feet of the Roman Pontiff, as John laid down his crown 
 for Pandolf to spurn, and dream that there can be harmony 
 between our blessed liberty wherewith Christ hath made 
 us free and the doctrine of slavery which Boniface taught 
 in the Unara Sanctmn, and which his successors have even 
 dared to enlarge ! 
 
 There are many places worth a visit in the region one 
 can survey from the Cathedral towers. Epworth is not 
 far away : a name that can never be heard without a thrill 
 of pain at the recollection of the colossal stupidity which 
 ecclesiastical dignitaries showed towards the Wesleys and 
 the Methodist Revival. The old story has repeated itself 
 often enough since : let Boiling's name serve for one illus- 
 tration. But such launders are not a unique possession 
 of the Church of Enoland. The comuiuuiou which could 
 
 mi 
 
 SM^ 
 
LINCOLNSHIRE, ELY, ROTORUA, AND HERTEORDSHIRE 107 
 
 do iiotbiiig with Tyrrell except curse him, which hounded 
 Fogazzaro to his grave, and is goiug as far as it dares to 
 disgrace the illustrious Duchesne to-day, is at least as 
 infatuated as ever they were who feared John AVesley's 
 white heat of fervour, or suspected Dolling of being ^'un- 
 safe" because the common people heard him gladly. 
 
 So, too, Boston is only an hour away, the famous 
 Stump reflected in the mirror of the Witham. Very dif- 
 ferent from its great namesake is the quiet little market- 
 town gathered round St. Botolph's mighty fane ; and yet 
 one glows as he recognizes familiar place-names all around, 
 Lynn and Waltham and many another, and thinks of the 
 courage that went to the founding of the new Boston over- 
 seas — courage none the less admirable because associated 
 with a decadent creed of despair, and political doctrines 
 in which liberty had as little place as Calvin allowed to it 
 in all creation. 
 
 Journey in another direction, still within sight of 
 Lincoln's towers, and you find yourself at Newark-on-Trent 
 ( where King John did the one creditable act of his reign : 
 I leave you to look that up !), and within walking distance 
 of Kelham, the College of the Sacred Mission, where 
 Father Herbert Kelly's idea continues to work, and work 
 well, too, if one may judge by a hasty visit. It was there, 
 three years ago, that the sunniest and most adorably boyish 
 of American Bishops made a visit, first of transatlantic 
 prelates so to honour the place, and endeared himself to the 
 lads by talking exactly like an American in an English 
 book, "guessing" and "cal'lating" and all the rest, for some 
 time before thev discovered that he was "havino'' them ! 
 
 : .rv\/yn 
 
 V^tt:?^ V "^^(^ V '^C?' v^<5^ v\^ 
 
Bj the way, the beds at Kelham are made of Belgian 
 blocks, cut rough-ashlar fashion: if they were only of 
 asphalt, one wouldn't mind the hardness so much for the 
 sake of the smoothness. (This is inferential, I confess: I 
 judge wholly by the impressions made upon myself.) 
 
 Plalf-way between Lincoln and Boston a fragment of 
 masonry rises abruptly, like an isolated crag transplanted 
 from some Alpine gorge. It is all that remains of Kirk- 
 stead Abbey ; though a chantry chapel survives, just out- 
 side the old enclosure, almost perfect but pathetically 
 neglected and altogether disused. Across the fields the red 
 mass of Tattershall C-astle appears ; and northward one 
 sees the bright new village of Woodhall Spa, where rheu- 
 matic folk resort for iodine baths and other refreshments. 
 And at the third apex of a triangle one could describe, 
 stands a little, peaceful Dissenting chapel, with a beautiful 
 manse adjoining it, sheltered in its own lovely garden, 
 and standing far back from the roads. It is not the Church 
 of England alone that is "endowed" in England, though 
 sacrilegious robbery is less shy of announcing its purposes 
 in connection with her possessions. And here is an 
 endowed chapel, two centuries old, with very few specifi- 
 cations except that its "godly minister" must always be 
 "of the dissenting persuasion." Presbyterian it was at its 
 beginning; but by the downgrade that English and Swiss 
 and ISTew England Calvinism have known, it has become 
 Unitarian. Years ago tiny l)aby fingers threw open the 
 manse doors to me; and ever since I have joyed in a real 
 friendship, centering about Beryl and Boy, l)ut including 
 
LINCOLNSHIRE, ELY, ROTORUA, AND HERTFORDSHIRE 109 
 
 the elders as well. The high mark of the hot wave, that 
 England knew as well as America, came while we w^ere 
 there ; and we sat all that day in the garden's green retreat, 
 passive physically, but mentally active enough, since we 
 discussed all imaginable themes, from ]^ew England Trans- 
 cendentalism to the reasons for the slow progress of 
 definitely republican ideas in England, with an occasional 
 lapse into polemics, that always ended irenically. But 
 one very clear conclusion was reached : that those English 
 ('hurchmen, clerical or lay, who hold themselves aloof 
 from non-Churchmen of any shade of ^Nonconformity, d<» 
 infinite harm to the Church's cause by their spiritual 
 snobbery. That must be very ill-grounded orthodoxy 
 which cannot meet heresy socially for fear of compromising 
 itself; and the Apostolic Church needs to do something 
 else to prove its apostolicity besides passing by on the 
 other side. 
 
 The Strand seethed and simmered with heat and n<:»ise 
 and the smell of motor-buses one August afternoon, when 
 Sebastian and I had just come up from Kent. We had 
 seen the tailor and the banker, the only visits of obligation 
 at that time ; and each looked at the other with an identi- 
 cal resolution — to flee ! Yes, but where ? That was not 
 hard to decide, and ten minutes later found us in a taxi 
 bound for Liverpool Street and Ely. What a contrast ! 
 The dear, sleepy little to^\m perched on its hillock in the 
 midst of the Fens, with naught to disturb its silence 
 except the chiming of the Cathedral bells: how peaceful 
 it seemed after midmost London's ceaseless roar! There 
 
 ■}^=^^' ^t^\y ■*:flC 
 
ITITh 
 
 is a peculiar charm about Ely : its pathos, as one looks at 
 the marred west front where one tower has fallen, or 
 notes how the stone is crumbling away in so many places ; 
 its incomparable octagonal lantern, the only Gothic dome 
 in existence, some one has said ; its wide meadows, the 
 sheep pasturing under the very walls of the deanery ; the 
 old-world bedesmen in their livery ; the reverent intelli- 
 gence of the vergers (0 si sic omnes!) and the beauty of 
 the services, all coml^ine to set Ely quite apart. 
 
 Evensong came that day after sunset. The Bislio]) 
 himself assisted; and we noted with delight the quaint 
 ceremonial with which he and his chaplain separated from 
 the rest of the ministrants, at the west end, when service 
 was over. Then the verger (I remembered him from other 
 years) let us wander about in the deepening shadows as 
 we would, till the magic spell deepened too, and we seemed 
 monks of Ely, listening for the plash of Tving (hint's oars. 
 
 Then we passed out, wandered roiiiul the ( 'lose and 
 under the arched gateway by the sch»»i»l, looked enviously 
 through the l>rightly lighted windows of a darling little 
 fifteenth century lialf-timl)ered house close by the ]iarish 
 church, and betook ourselves to our inn and to our writing. 
 
 I must not forget a swift journey Eon don atforded 
 to the South Seas. Ever since I read Pierre Eoti's Baraliu, 
 they have had a fascination for me, albeit unha]')])ily too 
 far oft" to be visited in the flesh ; and Bishop Selwyn's 
 Life gave me a special liking for the Maoris. So, when 
 I fouud that a veritable Maori village had been trans- 
 ]>laute(l to She])herd's Bush aud the White City, 1 hurried 
 
^f- 
 
 LINCOLNSHIRE, ELY, ROTORUA. AND HERTFORDSHIRE 1 1 1 
 
 out as fast as possible, ignoring all the valuable informa- 
 tion about the British Empire, so graphically displayed 
 all over the place, and going straight to them. Fifty 
 native ^ew Zealanders, under the management of a reall}' 
 remarkable ]\Iaori woman, Maggie Papakura, had conu; 
 over from liotorua, chief and all ; and there they were, 
 dwelling in houses like their own, practising their arts, 
 and singing and dancing admirably. One could not help 
 imagining, as he recalled his Herman Melville, that the 
 dances were somewhat modified t(j suit a new en\'ir<)n- 
 ment; but they had the rhythm and swing and grace <>i' 
 folk-dancing everywhere, and the singing was magnificent. 
 Two small Maoris took jiossession of me titstaiilcr: one 
 was nine, the chief's granddaughter ; the other, her bosom 
 friend, ten. Let me record their names here : Kapc Kape 
 and Fe Kaliu — sturdy brown youngsters, who spoke Eng- 
 lish almost perfectly, and chattered like two very agreeable 
 magpies. It pleased them to be photographed ; and Kape 
 Kape said, ''O do take us rubbing noses!" So here they 
 are, for your delight, saluting one another more aiifiquo. 
 and chuckling as they do so. 
 
 Fine people, these big brown brothers ! Did you ever 
 hear how, in the last Maori war, when they w^ere besieg- 
 ing a British fort, the return fire stopped ? They sent a 
 white flag to ask the reason, and learned from some very 
 much disgusted Englishmen that the ammunition was ex- 
 hausted. "Oh, that's all right," came the reply, 'Sve will 
 declare a truce until you can send and get a fresh supply !" 
 Sportsmanlike, what ? 
 
 It was in that same war that they were uns])eakably 
 
 m, 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 shocked by an English attack on Sunday. "Yon taught ns 
 that Sunday was a holy day," they said, "and yet yon 
 make war on that day, when, in its honour, we had laid 
 aside our arms !" 
 
 A MAOKl SALl'TA'riO.X. 
 
 A1L18(^.\. 
 
 One day stands out quite by itself in my English 
 memories of the summer. Down in Hertfordshire, not far 
 from Hatfield, is a sleepy little town, with one long street 
 of rose-red In-iek, weatherbeaten into almost Venetian tints. 
 Far at one end, across a meadow and through a green 
 tunnel of shade, stands the ancient flint church, surrounded 
 
LINCOLNSHIRE, ELY, ROTORUA, AND HERTFORDSHIRE 
 
 with beeches and lindens and yews. The country round 
 about is essential England: not ruggedly picturesque, nor 
 monotonous, but gently varied : meadows and undulating 
 stubble-fields and pastureland, with clusters of chimneys 
 against the sky, showing where a farmhouse lies perdue, 
 splendid hedges, and an atmosphere of peace brooding over 
 the landscape. But all there to be seen is for me but the 
 setting of a single jew^el: Allison! 
 
 Allison lives in a seventeenth century house, with 
 delightful rooms, broad and low and irregular, and Avith 
 the right sort of books and pictures everywhere. There is 
 a lovely garden, with tennis-courts, and a summer-house, 
 and roses growing over trellises, and delicious shady nooks 
 where easy-chairs say as plainly as can be, "Come and sit 
 in us, you and Allison both !" And so sitting, one forgets 
 London, an hour away, and all the rush and burthen of 
 modern life ; for the gates have opened and let us through 
 into fairyland, and we have the fairy princess herself for 
 comrade. 
 
 Three years ago Sebastian and I were going down from 
 Oxford to Henley, regatta-week, in the little steamer. At 
 Wallingford a five-year-old child came on board with her 
 governess, looked the ship's company over with a serenely 
 appreciative glance, and then came and sat down by us. 
 "What an intelligent child!" I whispered to my com- 
 panion. Thereupon she proceeded to justify that tribute, 
 not only by her discretion in choosing her neighbours, but 
 by the most altogether charming conversation I ever heard 
 from a child: it was really conversation, too, not prattle 
 or monologue. Presently she smiled confidingly : '^I think 
 
 ^^Mi 
 
 
 
MM 
 
 I should be more eoiiif y on your kuee." She was, and so 
 was I! As we progressed, she said: "ril tell you what 
 I think : I think you're two very funny gentlemen" — but 
 then, fearing she might have wounded our sensibilities, she 
 hastened to add, "and I like funny gentlemen." 
 
 We parted at Goring, sworn friends, with kisses and 
 tears and smiles ; and that two hours' chance meeting with 
 Allison gave me not only an enchanting memory, but a 
 houseful of altogether delightful friends. Of the grown- 
 ups, decorum requires that I should not speak, except to 
 say that Ailison comes honestly Ijy her charm. But there 
 is Leslie, twelve years old, keen on cricket, whirring past on 
 his wheel like a new sort of angel ( for angels are mes- 
 sengers, of course), and with his heart set on engineering. 
 (Perhai:>s he will come to America some day, to study.) 
 And Enid, too, a little older, but still a child in her sim- 
 plicity and frank sweetness and love of stories. The 
 whole three have come out of a l)ook, Fanl (did Fuonineffa. 
 or TJie Would-Be-Cioods : and I think they are among the 
 dearest people I kno^v in all England — which is saying 
 much ! 
 
 '^W^ 
 

 
 IV. 
 
 OF ENGLAND IN GENERAL 
 
 IT is as hard to stoj) writing about England as it was 
 actually to leave ! We bad dreamed of Norway and 
 Sweden, of Sclileswig and even of Petersburg; but why 
 wander so far afield, a summer like this, when all England 
 was a garden full of sunshine, and the rains had forgotten 
 how to fall ? So we lingered ; and so I must still set down 
 recollections that come back to me vividly present even 
 here in my beloved Oberland, by the Thunersee. 
 
 Everyone everywhere talked politics, until Parliament 
 adjourned. Would the Lords surrender? Had Asquith 
 guarantees ? Who would take a puppet peerage if worse 
 came to worst ? Those questions echoed on all sides ; and 
 often American opinions were asked, with the thought that 
 the judgment of a detached on-looker might be unpreju- 
 diced at least. I have seen in American papers the triumph 
 of Mr. Asquith's Parliament Bill acclaimed as a victory 
 for the cause of progress and freedom ; but, frankly, I 
 venture to doubt whether true freedom, based on law, has 
 been advanced in the slightest by putting absolute ]>(nver 
 into the hands of a partisan majority in the House of 
 Commons. It means single chamber government, with no 
 checks or revisions ; and few despotisms are more terrible. 
 
 Vi?'^ 
 
 
mmrrmm 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 With us, a. bill, after ^^assiiig the popular chamber, must 
 also pass the Senate. It must then receive the President's 
 approval, or, failing that, be passed again by a two-thirds 
 majority in both houses. And even then, should the 
 Supreme Court declare it unconstitutional, it goes to the 
 rubbish-heap. 
 
 jSTow, in England, the King's veto is wholly obsolete; 
 since there is no written constitution, the courts cannot 
 rule an act of Parliament unconstitutional ; and the new 
 Parliament Bill takes away every vestige of real authority 
 from the House of Lords. A grave condition, surely ; 
 and one who looks at Mr. Asquith, Mr. Lloyd-George, and 
 Mr. Winston Churchill must wonder not a little whether 
 such a triumvirate ought to be trusted with al)solute 
 power. 
 
 Of course every one, even Lord Lansdowne, acknowl- 
 edges that the House of Lords needs reconstruction. It 
 has all the defects of our Senate, with none of its virtues, 
 and then some defects of its own. There is no glamour of 
 !N^orman blood and long descent about the "Beerage" ; the 
 presence of Jewish bankers is certainly a change from 
 Plantagenet days ; indubitably titles are bought and sold 
 in a fashion so shameless as to put our senatorial scandals 
 quite into obscurity ; and the wicked selfishness which 
 refused to let land bear its proper share of taxation and 
 resented increased liquor taxes, because land and "the 
 Trade" are so largely controlled by the nobility, was evi- 
 dence that some change must come. But I believe Mr. 
 Asquith's change is for the worse ; and I honoured Lord 
 Huah Cecil in the Commons and Lord Halifax and the 
 
l^^^^^J^ 
 
 ^Ci^ xr <aos>' V ^« ^'-~q^ Xf ~<:d^K'^^ V ^<oQ:i> V^c 
 
 OF ENGLAND IN GENERAL 
 
 117 m^. 
 
 - 1 Duke of iSTewcastle in the Lords, with the other irrecon- 
 
 cilables, who opposed it to the hist. Yet, if such a scene 
 ^r^, of frenzied disorder as marked ]\Ir. Asquith's declaration 
 ir"|~|l of j)olicy in the Commons had, by any incredible chance, 
 ^^ByCr occurred in our Congress, the Saturday Re r lew would 
 -^^'yr have sneered elaborately at American barbarism ; and 
 when I looked down from the gallery during the Chan- 
 cellor's speech in defence of payment of members, and ^ 
 saw Austen Chamberlain and several other members loll- 
 ing on the front benches with their feet on the table where 
 the mace rests, at least as high as their heads, I thought 
 of how such indecent vulgarity would be frowned on in 
 any American legislative body, and wondered ! 
 
 That same speech, by the way, was a marvel. I do 
 not admire or respect Mr. Lloyd-George : I believe him a 
 dangerous demagogue of a most jDci'nicious type. But I 
 never heard a better presentation of a case, nor a more ^^ 
 complete and overwhelming summary of answers to all ob- 
 jections. It was a triumph of art, used, as I think, on the 
 right side then, but equally availalde on the wi-ong. I 
 heard of a good old Dissenting deacon in Wales who re- 
 nounced Dissent and Liberalism together at the last elec- 
 tion when he heard Mr. Lloyd-George say, in the chapel 
 itself, that whoever voted the Conservative ticket ought ^\7%, 
 to have his ris;ht hand withered ! 
 
 Happily, it is not very far from the Houses of Par- 
 liament to the Tate Gallery; and what a rest it is to stand 
 before King Cophefaa and the Berjgar-Maid, or Ecce 
 Ancilla Domini! Some of the pictures there delight me 
 
 ^S^ 
 
more than any "old masters" (certain Botticellis ex- 
 ce])ted). Three years ago I had been spending all the 
 afternoon there, and came out, absolutely in need of the 
 society of children. The Millbank Gardens were full of 
 them — all dirty, alas ! But at the very end sat a dear lit- 
 tle ten-year-old, playing mother to a baby sister: immacu- 
 late, though her pinafore was mended and her hat some- 
 thing of an heirloom. We fell into conversation directly, 
 of a personal sort. Alice, I learned, was the daughter of a 
 BajDtist Bible-woman ; she loved stories, but only if they 
 were true or had a moral — which had, I thought, a dis- 
 senting flavour ; her brother was in Saskatchewan, and her 
 father was dead; and she lived in Landseer Buildings, just 
 ])a('k of the Gallery. We hit it off, I may say, rather well, 
 and have been friends ever since — though T rememlier 
 her niiive horror at my 'Agoing to a monastery" once, when 
 she walked with me to St. Edward's House, Westminster, 
 and her fear that something might happen to me there, 
 only partly allayed by the sight of the smiling Cowley 
 Father who let me in. Alice and I visited the Tate Gal- 
 lery together this summer on her fourteenth birthday. 
 She knew all the pictures a])preciatively, understood why 
 she like<l some more than others, and was altogether as 
 sympathetic a companion as one could ha^'e desired. Ah, 
 it is not alone in "the u]iper classes" that one finds charm 
 and couii'enialitv. 
 
 I am saving York for a special letter all by itself, as 
 befits a metropolitical see ; and there are many other 
 places, up and down the realm, fr(^m iSTewcastle to the 
 
OF ENGLAND IN GENERAL 
 
 Isle of Wight, about which I should like to say much but 
 which, alas ! I must pass over. If I could make you feel 
 the charm of Hursley on a bright Sunday morning, with 
 the spirit of the Christian Year and Lyra Innoceiifium 
 still blessing the place ; or transcribe the old-world charm 
 of Sussex, where red-roofed villages hide themselves in 
 Ashdown Forest, only to be revealed to sympathetic search ; 
 or show you Bemerton, across the fields from Salisbury, 
 still fragrant with the memory of holy George Plerbert, 
 the rectory that he built still standing, over the way from 
 the tiny old church, it would be worth the trying. Even 
 to go (jut to Hampton Court together might not be tedious ; 
 and to visit East Gr instead, where the most wonderful 
 and inspiring of English Churchmen in the last generation 
 lived and died (John Mason ISTeale, of course), and see 
 Sackville College and St. Margaret's C-onvent once more, 
 would be unmixed delight. But these and fifty others 
 must wait till another summer ; while, instead, I record 
 some general impressions of travel in England, such as 
 American travellers utter among themselves, "talking 
 things over" on the steamer's deck homeward l:)ound. 
 
 Railway travel costs about the same in England as in 
 America, comparing third-class with ordinary day-coach 
 rates. The railway stations are usually better than ours, 
 and more convenient — those in London, and s]3ecially 
 Charing Cross, being notable exceptions. One great point 
 is that the platforms are on the level of the carriages, with- 
 out that long stej) up which is so exasperating in our sta- 
 tions ; and it is an inexpressible comfort to find cheerful, 
 civil, honest, and oliliging porters everywhere, who do 
 
 S'^C 
 
 V "^o^ V ^«o^ V ■■^i^' V ^iio i^' \? ^5-;5feci^' tr '^Qssiscs^' V ■•<oQi^ v xsc*'' XT -ioti^' v' '<soQ*' Xr' ^o;^' u 
 

 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 their work well and expect small tips. (If ever you of- 
 fered a black jDorter at the Grand Central Station any- 
 thing less than a quarter, you will appreciate the contrast.) 
 
 The trains themselves, however, are not so comfortable 
 as ours, on the whole. Leaving out the "stopping trains," 
 so-called, with the old-fashioned carriages where each com- 
 partment is separate from all the others, even the cor- 
 ridor coaches are badly ventilated; and to sit vis-d-vis to 
 a stranger, in that limited space, knees almost touching, 
 is altogether too intimate. If you can have a whole com- 
 partment to yourself, or to yourself and your own com- 
 panions, it is very jolly. But the desperate endeavours to 
 find a vacant place in a crowded train make our open day- 
 coaches seem desirable, and our Pidlman cars, Avith chairs 
 reserved, ideally luxurious. 
 
 Broadly speaking, every public servant in England is 
 polite and obliging. ( There are exceptions, of course : the 
 young women at hotel desks, for example, cultivate the 
 most wanton insolence, even as in Dickens' day the attend- 
 ants at railway restaurants seem to have been of the same 
 type — witness, "Mugby Junction.") The pleasant voices 
 have much to do with it, I think. If I were president 
 of the l^ational Educational Association, I would urge on 
 my fellows in that august body the cultivation of the 
 speaking voices of their pupils as inlinitely more im|)or- 
 tant than any text-book subject in the school curriculum, 
 More than most people, perhaps, I am affected by the 
 (piality of voices; and sweet, well-modidarcd tones of sales- 
 men, and cabmen, and waiters are vei'v agreeable after the 
 
 
 rwv2:2 
 
 

 wm 
 
 m^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 C^V -iv 
 
 
 harsh, snorting, nasal utterances too often heard from 
 American lips. 
 
 English hotels are not so thoroughly equipped as ours 
 with modern conveniences, I staid at a grand new hotel 
 in London, w^hich made a great point of having running 
 hot and cold water in its bedrooms, but had left out the 
 telephone which even third-class houses at home put into 
 every room. So, the lifts are small and slow ; and there 
 are still places where you are expected to walk down, and 
 only ride up. But the service is generally good ; and at 
 the best London hotels the food is admirable and much 
 cheaper than in houses of similar grade with us. In the 
 country one misses fruit and a variety of vegetables ; and, 
 while English tea is always good, there are very few Eng- 
 lish people who know anything about drinkable coffee. I 
 wonder why ! 
 
 One ancient grievance Americans must suffer is the 
 lack of American news in the English papers. The best 
 of the English dailies are poor enough, compared with our 
 best ; and in them one looks in vain for more than the j!^ew 
 York stock-market reports, a lynching in Alal)ama — or 
 Pennsylvania, perhaps, alas ! — and a divorce in the smart 
 set. It is exasperating, really, and inexcusable in these 
 days. So I must acknowledge that the English Church 
 weeklies seem inferior to ours, mechanically and by the 
 standard of interest. They lack illustrations, and the 
 paper on which they are printed is poor stuff" ; while the 
 enormous space allotted to political matters of a partisan 
 sort, and to discussions as to whether a silk chalice-veil 
 
 V '-OO- V ^:3if-' u -OQ 
 
comes under the (3riiaiiients Riibric (>r not, seem dispro- 
 portionate. 
 
 Of English people 1 have already said much, mostly 
 in praise and affection. I think they are slower every 
 way than Americans; that is one reason why it is such a 
 delightful rest for an American t<> go to England. They 
 think of themselves as cold and unemotional ; hut my ex- 
 perience shows them (once the ice is broken) as far 
 warmer and more sentimental, in the good sense, than we 
 are, usually. They still condescend to the rest of man- 
 kind, unconsciously, no doubt ; but they are only more open 
 about it than other peoples, who all have the same idea of 
 their own superiority to every other race. Even Ameri- 
 cans are not wholly free from it, I fear ; though all except 
 the nearly extinct "spread-eagle" variety are tactful enough 
 not to display the feeling inopportunely, while Englishmen 
 have need to cultivate tact beyond almost all else they need. 
 
 However, when all is said, they are our nearest neigh- 
 bours, if one reckons proximity by ideals, not by kilo- 
 meters: they are the most satisfactory, if also sometimes 
 the most exasperating, peo])le in the Eastern Hemisphere. 
 So I end as once before: (lood old Eiiiiland! 
 
 ^:?^ 
 
I PROMISED a glimpse of York before we should cross 
 the Channel together : so here it is. Bnt as yon read it 
 yon will realize that it was prepared for English eyes 
 first. Sebastian and I were bidden to ''the Residence" by 
 the most hospital )le and enthnsiastic <»f Cathedral clergy, 
 early in Angust ; and when we made onr departure it was 
 proposed that "An Impression of York" be written for 
 the Diocesan Gazette by one of the American visitors. Of 
 course one had to suppress much he woidd have liked to 
 say, for fear of being too personal. But, as it stands on 
 the English pages, you shall have it, with certain pictures 
 from mv own camera added. 
 
 ~s<ym 
 
 m'-^ 
 
 AN IMPRESSION OF YORK. 
 
 When one sees the hurrying traveller point his kodak 
 at the vast front of some august Cathedral for a snap- 
 shot, the incongruity brings a smile. Painters and etchers 
 have toiled long to reproduce adequate pictures of that 
 mighty fane ; and here is one who hopes to succeed with 
 a lens, a film, and one-hundredth of a second ! But, after 
 all, though a sna]>shot does not equal the artist's picture 
 produced with laborious exactitude and sympathetic vision, 
 
 '^^^v'-^^sy^c 
 
 x.r'V'jseiyV^^ 
 
 X.?\3s''?.4c 
 
 :cs'-' V^isci*' xr '<sdq^ v "^cs^ 
 
it has a certain value oi its own, for the maker of it at 
 least; and sometimes the camera shows details that the 
 painter overlooks ; all of which is an apology for this arti- 
 cle, written by command of a hospitable dignitary. 
 
 Mark Tapley comments upon the name of Xew York 
 as doubtless given because it was so exactly unlike Old 
 York ! (Jne reason why Americans flock to Old York is 
 that it is so different from what we have at home. A walled 
 city, with Roman remains, where a castle still shelters 
 soldiers ; narrow streets whose anti(pie house-fronts incline 
 towards each other as if bent beneath the weight of years ; 
 a ruined abbey ( which one of our great architects calls the 
 most ideal in England) ; and a thousand memories evoked 
 by the mere name, from British Evrauc down to White 
 Rose times, and the holy martyred sovereign who bore so 
 long the title Duke of York: America has nothing like 
 that. But to an American Catholic, York is the Minster 
 chiefly, seat of the northern Metropolitan ; and his feet 
 carry him there first ni all, even as he thinks of every- 
 thing else in relation thereto. Years ago I made my 
 flrst visit to York, kneeling in the choir Ix'tween the two 
 dearest and best of comrades; and as we walked round 
 the walls in the sunset glory, it was always towards the 
 Minster that we turner I our faces, conscious of our own part 
 in it as iidieritors of the faith of Paulinus and Wilfrid, 
 of William and Wolsey. When a civil vicar opened the 
 gate of his garden and showed ns that there were Roman 
 tiles l)uilt up in that ])ortion of the wall which enclosed it, 
 we envied him his aiu/idum cum, lihro more than his liv- 
 ing; and it was ])leasant at night, lodged in Petergate, to 
 
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 AN IMPRESSION OF YORK 
 
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 125 
 
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liear the Minster bells sounding the hours and to fancy 
 what ears had heard that melody since first it ])egan to 
 peal. In memory of that lirst visit, a large picture of the 
 (Cathedral hangs in my entrance hall, with an old print 
 of St. Margaret's, Walmgate, for companion ; and in 
 dreams I see the red-tiled roofs of the ancient city and 
 its encircling walls. 
 
 But it is quite a different point of view to find oneself 
 at home inside the Residence garden ; to look out from 
 bedroom windows upon the great central tower in the glory 
 of early morning; and to note a recognizing gleam in the 
 verger's eye as he shows one to the same stall day by day. 
 While I I'oiirrange my memories of a happy week, I find 
 certain pictures standing out most clearly. Verus decanus 
 incessii patuit. The grave, sweet, reverent stateliness of 
 that gracious and venerable figure, for a generation pre- 
 siding among his brethren under the crossed keys of St. 
 Peter, is not to be forgotten, whether seen crossing the 
 greensward, or worshipping at the altar, or delighting his 
 guests with recollections of all the notables for half a 
 century at the Deanery dinner table. Our Deans for the 
 most part are hustling young men, wIk) combine a dozen 
 executive functions, and have small leisure for study. It 
 must be so; and yet one envies the (dder order a little. 
 
 But mere tradition is not always admirabl(\ When 
 David put the Ark of God u])on a cart he was following 
 the tradition of Philistia ; but he should have gone further 
 back to the "Ornaments Rubric" of Mosaic times. So, I 
 confess, I m(»urn a little at High Matins as the most con- 
 spicuous (not the chief) service, whether on week-days 
 
 
 mm 
 

 
 AN IMPRESSION OF YORK 127 
 
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 THE SHAMBLES^ YORK. 
 
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or Sundays. Admirable as a monastic exercise, it is too 
 complicated, too long-drawn, demands too much intellect- 
 ual attention ever to be a service for the people. A long 
 selection from the Psalter (specially when sung to Angli- 
 can chants that the congregation can never learn) and two 
 long lessons, with the canticles and the anthem, put a 
 strain upon the attention even of the clergy. What, then, 
 of the average layman, literate or otherwise 'i It is much 
 that the daily Eucharist has its place at the Minster and 
 in so many parish churches under its shadow ; but what 
 a cause for joy when the choir shall be crowded at the 
 Lord's own Service, and the Pure Offering be offered with 
 all the proper accessories of glory and beauty ! 
 
 Americans are sometimes reproached as too utilitarian ; 
 unjustly, I believe, since, more than any other visitors to 
 England's shrines, they are moved by the sentiment of 
 the place. But dulce and utile can be comluned; and we 
 do grieve when we find them separated. I confess that it 
 seemed a pity to find the glorious nave of the Minster so 
 little used, except as a show-place of ancient glass and 
 carving ; and I wondered whether the C*athedral clergy 
 might not take turns, twice a day, in telling something 
 of the spiritual significance of all to the crowds of visitors, 
 making the circuit of the nave, and ending with an appeal 
 that those who visit the material fabric should seek to be 
 upbuilt in the spiritual edifice, which is God's building. 
 
 Almijst more than the Minster the old parish churches 
 moved me. St. Margaret's, Walmgate, set amid such 
 poverty as my own country knows not auywdiere ; Holy 
 Trinity, Goodramgate, almost deserted, yet with a sunny- 
 
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 AN IMPRESSION OF YORK 
 
 129 
 
 
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 faced little girl pluyiiig on the hit of gra.s.s that .shows 
 green among the tumbling tombstones, and kneeling with 
 me in ready, confident friendship, Ix'fore the altar within; 
 Holy Trinity, Micklegate, St. Martin-cum-Gregory — those 
 and others stand out vividly in my memory. Yet more 
 clearly 1 recall the ride in the Sunday afternoon peace 
 over to Xun-Monkton, the remote little village, with its 
 deserted mansion (haunted, so they told us, by the 
 murdered Cavaliers whose execution its giirden saw ) and 
 its exquisite thirteenth century chtirch, so admirably pre- 
 served as to be, not a monument of something dead and 
 buried, but a living centre of spiritual forces. Perhaps 
 for the first time in all its seven hundred years, it echoed 
 to American voices from lectern and pul])it. The preacher 
 will not forget the occasion, whether the hearers remember 
 his sermon or not. So, too, stands out the walk across 
 green fields to Bishopthorpe, the cheerful ferrywoman 
 volunteering much information about " Ms Grace," and 
 the young footman reciting his tale with special emphasis 
 upon the romantic history of that Archbishop who was a 
 tailor's son, and "whose father got money enough together 
 to get him ordained" ! 
 
 English people have a habit of dispraising themselves 
 as cold and formal and reserved. Some of them may be; 
 but those I know are all of the other sort, and York added 
 many to my gallery of warmdiearted, coi-dial, unconven- 
 tional English acquaintances. (Perhaps they reserve all 
 their austerity for one another, and show their best selves 
 to Americans; though I confess it is a little daunting to 
 be told: 'Tveallv, I should never have thouu'lit vou were 
 
 :^'V^ 
 
 ■■'^"i 
 
 '^Kfm 
 
 
ail American; you doiTt talk tlii'(jugii vour nose!'' As if 
 ^^yv)^ one were to say: "I should never have taken you for an 
 Engiishinaii ; you don't drop your h'sl") But only my 
 im]3ression of York has been demanded, not my im|)res- 
 sion of York's inhabitants, so I forbear. Be sure, how- 
 ever, that the stream of American visitors bears back to 
 the Great Republic memories of every courtesy shown, 
 every hospitality offered, with the hope of returning them 
 when you atford the op})ortunity ; and all such ]>ersonal 
 relations of friendliness help much to strengthen that 
 Anglo-American understanding which, please God, shall 
 become the greatest force in the world for peace and 
 justice and order and freedom. 
 
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 i^a^'' {y\s<ii^V^<:::^ '-J 'io'^V^-- 
 
VI. 
 
 WALCHEREN ONCE MORE 
 
 FlvOM Quoenboro' to Flushing is a short day's sail; 
 the jjrettj advertisement on half the hoardings in 
 England shows a fine old salt spanning the distance with 
 ontstretched arms. Yet it is really a longer jonrney than 
 from Boston to San Francisco, even if jon connt in a 
 retnrn trip by the Canadian Pacific. For the traveller 
 l)asses into a land where everything seems different : archi- 
 tecture, costume, language, mode of life, cookery, religion. 
 Even the long avenues of wind-blown trees that stretch 
 along the dykes and beside the polders still have character- 
 istics of their own, as in Hobbema's famous picture of 
 Middelharnis ; and the pearly lustre of the low-hanging 
 clouds in the radiantly diff'used sunlight is unlike what 
 one sees elsewhere. For Netherland itself is unique ; and 
 Walcheren is the veritable quintessence of the Low 
 Countries, "the Fleart of Holland," as TTenri Havard 
 called it forty years ago. I have just finished reading the 
 newest book on that inexhaustible theme, Mr. D. S. Mel- 
 drum's Home Life in HoUand; and because he neglects 
 Zeeland almost altogether, it lacks flavour. The beauty 
 and wonder and picturesqueness of Dutch life, as T know 
 it, are missing; and one chokes with statistics. If I could 
 
 
<i^v''-i^ 
 
 WALCHEREN ONCE MORE 
 
 133 
 
 only translate into words that inexpressible charm which 
 broods over nij enchanted isle ! Mine, I call it, in a sort 
 of spiritual proprietorship ; for if appreciation is in some 
 sense appropriation, no land-owner there, from the high 
 well-and-nobly-born Graaf van Ter Hoog'e to the smallest 
 peasant in his hocrdrry has a title more valid than that I 
 
 carry in my heart. 
 
 Sebastian and I once 
 worked out an ideal ])lau for 
 the Golden Age: to go as 
 friendly ambassadors from 
 America, convert the Dutch 
 Queen to Old Catholicism ( the 
 Dutch remnant seeming to 
 lack missionary enthusiasm), 
 and for our reward, to be 
 made, one the Prince-Bishop 
 of Walcheren, with Slot West- 
 hove for palace, the other Ab- 
 bot of Middelburg, the old 
 abbey being rescued from base 
 uses and restored to holy Ee- 
 ligion. A fair dream, indeed; 
 and yet perhaps the good Cal- ^ 
 vinistic country-folk would not 
 be so cordial as they are now to 
 "the American Domines" ; the 
 tiny hocriniietjes might be 
 afraid of empurjded prelates 
 'greeting, muxheek/' and run away and hide. 
 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 whereas now the paved country roads resoinid Avith the 
 clatter of the Idompen as they flv to welcome ns. Iso, 
 perish the thought: preferment would l)e too dearly bought 
 that meant forfeiting their fritaidship. 
 
 I have written of Walcheren heretofore ; l>ut I trust 
 a twice-told tale will not weary you. There is infinite 
 variety in the [)lace itself. Every bend in the road shows 
 a fresh picture such as ^^ermeer alone of masters might 
 have hoped to paint ; every village in the zone that girdles 
 the island with je^vels has its own special beauty; every 
 hour of the day gives a different effect to the meadows 
 that stretch so far and peaceful, the line of sand-dunes 
 north and west against the horizon, the clusters of trees 
 round the farmhouses, the vivid green of the hedges. 
 Lange Jcui. the mighty spire of the abbey in Middelburg, 
 and the Groofc Kerlc of Veere, vast even in its desolation, 
 like some prehistoric monster turned into masonry, are 
 the only unchanging features. -N^ay, more, every peasant 
 child smiles with an altogether individual charm, and 
 clasps one's hand with a peculiar, trusting comradeship ; 
 and the grave farmers touch their hats, not as a mechanical 
 civility, 1)ut with real human recognition of a friend, ac- 
 tual or potential. 
 
 They tell a story of a saintly American priest who, 
 after a visit to an English monastery, crossed over to 
 Erance, but wrote back to the Superior that he found Paris 
 very dull after (Jowley ! Reversing that, Sebastian and I 
 rejoiced unspeakably, and found Walcheren very gay after 
 London. The steamer touched the dock at Elushins;; we 
 
 

 
 WALCHEREN ONCE MORE 
 
 135 
 
 
 
 
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 (^X/"^f^ ^''^^■^V'^l^ V"^^ V -^IlJ'^' -i -^ot^ •J^'^ v' -^cs^ U x^ac:^' V~^ 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 ^\^ 
 
 K4 
 
 jDassed the customs formalities ; and a few minutes later 
 found us in the electric tram bound for the island-capital. 
 Progress, alas ! has come in the last two years, and laid 
 its sacrilegious hand upon the old steam-tram that used 
 to enter Middelburg, with the conductor walking in front 
 of the engine to insure a moderate speed. But there sat 
 opposite us a group of sweetly chattering meisjes, arrayed 
 in the blessed peasant-dress ; and I heard a murmured 
 "Thank Heaven and St. Willibrord!" Presently we 
 stopped under the exquisite tower of the Gothic City Hall, 
 so rich and fanciful as almost to rival that in Brussels. 
 The carillon from the abbey pealed out its joyous snatch 
 of "La Fille de Mme. Angot" to welcome us back; we 
 hurried past Den Boer's irresistible bookshop on the 
 market-place and good Jacques Frank's windows, blazing 
 with such gold ornaments as enrich the peasant-dress by 
 exquisite filigree, and were presently safe in the ample 
 garden of the Grrand Hotel. jSTo vulgar modern "Maison 
 du premier Orclre" this, as you might suppose from its 
 title, but a grave, stately patrician house of the seventeenth 
 century, very little altered, and most hospitable. How 
 good it was to sit outside over our coffee, the air misty 
 with the bells that struck the hours, and realize that Veere 
 was only four miles away ! It was a true home-coming ; 
 and neither of us felt alien there. 
 
 
 The steamboat for Rotterdam starts at a most un- 
 seasonably early hour, and reaches Veere in thirty minutes. 
 But one compensation for a hurried breakfast was to see 
 all the housemaids in town l)usy al>out the srlioonmal'liery. 
 
T-;- 
 
 
 
 the "cleaning' up" with which every Dntch dav begins. 
 "To polish Tip the handle of the big front door" (if one 
 may recall a long-forgotten tag from "Pinafore") does not 
 half express all that it means. Wonderfnl brass sqnirts 
 send water np to the windows at the top of the honse ; 
 and bare-armed servants from Goes and Kloetinge and a 
 dozen other villages scrnb and rub and mop and splash 
 and wipe and dry and dust and straighten in a fashion to 
 put the best of our housewives to the blush, — meanwhile 
 never spattering the immaculate starched whiteness of their 
 caps, nor failing to smile cheerfully at the Uitlander who 
 stops in admiration. "Spotless Town" has ceased to 
 appear among our advertisements! Indeed, I forget what 
 soap or patent cleanser it exploited. But at eight of an 
 August morning, all Middelburg deserves the title. 
 
 We had scarcely taken our places aft on the little 
 steamer when a charming Dutch family appeared by our 
 side : Mynheer with a crested signet, Mevrouw altogether 
 in the mode de Paris, two handsome sons of 17 and 15 
 and an adorable thirteen-year-old daughter, shyly uncon- 
 scious of her neighbours, at first anyhow. Directly the 
 whistle blew, conversation began, in irreproachable idiom- 
 atic English. The gentlemen were English, evidently? 
 American instead ; how interesting ! Since they were 
 bound for Veere, they must be artists ? lio one else ever 
 went there to stay. We pleaded not guilty, and declared 
 our names and stations, adding that we had been often to 
 Veere and were returning to see our friends, the children 
 there. Eollowed much animated talk over a pocketful of 
 my photogra]')hs (some of which you have seen here), 
 
 M 
 
 ^J K^C^ V S^!i^' V ^C^S^'V ^SDS 
 
 
tliirteeii-year-<»l<l Frciile ^largot forgetting her shyness in 
 pleased exehunatioiis. We reached the hjck — too soon, for 
 the first time ! As we rose, a hospital)le voice declared : 
 "Ah, you must come and visit ns at onr country-place 
 near Utrecht. Promise ! It's well W(»rtli seeing, and we 
 ^vill take you everywhere. When can you C(»me, next 
 week V 
 
 ''But you don't know us at all," I expostulated ; 
 '\surely, you don't mean the invitation seriously?" 
 
 "Yes, we do; promise that you will come, honest 
 Injun !" 
 
 The cabalistic phrase was p(jt('nt ; we pr(_»mised, made 
 a hasty farewell to our nev/ friends whose names we had 
 scarcely time to learn, and leaped ashore. ( At this point 
 I ought to write, "To l)e continued in our next" ; for that 
 in^utation opened magic doors into unknown regions, of 
 which I hope to tell you much another time.) 
 
 llow familiar it all looked! There was Zandyk, a 
 tiny village stretching along the VeerscJte Weg with its 
 story-and-a-half cottages from "La Maison de Haute J\Ion- 
 taigne" at one end almost to the old earthworks of War- 
 wick's fortifications ; Zandyk, home of Willemina and 
 Janna, of Betje, Uigna, and Koos, of Gilles and Pieter, 
 Willeni and Bram and Lein. In front t(»wered the huge 
 church, mighty in its melancholy, the exquisite little foun- 
 tain for rain-water nestling in its shadow; and over by 
 the harbor rose the slender arabesque of the (^itv Hall, a 
 veritable minaret, cloud-kissed and poiguautly l)eautiful. 
 Br('athless, we hurried acr(»ss the lields, as if the vision 
 miiiht fade like a uiirauc Ix'fore we coidd reach it. It 
 
"^"r'' 
 
 WALCHEREN ONCE MORE 
 
 "•(►()d to 1h' tr 
 
 M}]\ no; the brown sails 
 of the Ariiemiiiden fishing-boats filled the haven as of old ; 
 the stately gendarme in bine nniforni salnte<l us with 
 friendly recognition beaming in his eve, even as his [)eauti- 
 fnl danghter knew us, too, and called a cheery greeting 
 from the Stadfoidcia as we passed; the chimes tinkled 
 ''Ein. feste Bur;/ isf lotser Gott" with the same nnin- 
 tended ritards that I watched for years ago; and when 
 presently we sat in the great round room of the Toren 
 overlooking the salt water, and ate and drank what brisk 
 and kindly Martina set before ns, each looked at the other 
 with joy unspeakal)le, and said, ''We're here again!" 
 
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 ' ^c=*' V ^^s--^sc^\r ^sv&c^ \i '~^ci' v ^a^ V 
 
VII. 
 
 VEERE AND WILLEMINA 
 
 H( )\V hriiiiit the sun shone, that glorious Sunday morn- 
 ing when Oastel drove over from Veere to fetch us, 
 liag and baggage, from the (comparatively) metropolitan 
 spk-ndonrs of the Grand Hotel to the more congenial sim- 
 plicity of our own town ! The Grermans, even the Luther- 
 ans, who have small reverence for saints, always call the 
 blessed Hungarian j^rincess that made Thuringia famous, 
 "Darling Saint Elizabeth." Well, I say, "Darling Veere," 
 and never name it without some word of love and ]n-aise. 
 We jolted over the klinker, past the toll-gate, beyond 
 the lines of old fortifications, now turned into smiling 
 parkways, and were presently on the Veersche Weg, wind- 
 ing, shady, magical, as if Freya or ISTehallenia had put a 
 charm of happiness upon it for all who wend there with 
 child-like hearts. Clusters of trees in the fields show where 
 farm-houses are hidden, everyone imiuaculately clean, with 
 its herd of l)lack-and-white cattle grazing near by, its 
 well-sweep, its steep-roofed barn, and its notal)le array 
 of brass or copper milk-cans, blue china, and silver or 
 pewter. The big f aiuily Bible is the greatest treasure ; 
 but every dweller in the house has his own — small, thick, 
 sometimes with antique gold or silver clasps, and read 
 
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 VEERE AND WILLEMINA 
 
 141 
 
 mm 
 
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 TPIE WATEE-PLACE. 
 
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(Icvoutlv. ( 'i)iis('(iiieiitl V, tile \v;iv was llii'(>in;i'(| wirli faini- 
 lies cbiircliwai'd honiid, and ou font; for (whatever iiiav 
 be the cDiiditioii in other parts of Holland) yonr Wal- 
 cheren hori- is a devont adherent of his Calvinistic Kcr/r, 
 J / ciTonnde or Ucrcjoiincci-dc. and crowds tlie white- 
 washed, gloomy sanctuaries to the doors. "Snn day-go-to- 
 meeting chithes'' are a reality, too: the finest gai'ments are 
 called Kcrl' Klcci- : am! the little mai<ls walk daintily in 
 leather s]ip])ers with silver hnrkles, sahufs laid aside, and 
 with wonderfnl gold and ])eai'l ]ien<laiits hanging hy iheii- 
 temples; even as their fathers and lirothers are unwoiite(|ly 
 brave in coats and hats suhtly siigucstive of Spain, and 
 with golden Inittons at tlieii' throats, woi'th a month's 
 wages or more, Avhile their motliers rustle in silken a|>rons, 
 with a few extra ])etticoats for grandeni'. 
 
 What a joy to be greeted hy everyone! E\-( n wdiere 
 we saw nnfamiliar faeces, there \vas always the same (dieer- 
 ful "Ihuj. M i/n/ircr," with perhaps a "Ph'asant weather, 
 Sii','' for what George Borrow calls ''the sele of tlie day''; 
 and the children never failed to wave salutations, ])erhaps 
 a litth' subdued by the Sabbath stillness. Past the Cafe 
 Veldzicht and the bench marking the crossway which leads 
 to Cornelia van Wallenbitrg's farm, we hurried through 
 Zandyk — al>solutely deserted, all its ]io]udation already at 
 the Honse of God — came to the Inddge, l)etween magnifi- 
 cent green hedges, ]>ansed not at the desolate mightiness of 
 the huge old chnrch, but pnlled n]) on the (^)uay in fi-ont of 
 "De Hoop'' Baker Rouw's hospital)le liome. The (piaint 
 old Toren has only fonr bed-rooms; and those are usually 
 hlled to o\'ei'flowinii- with artists and easels. But two 
 
p^^[fT ^_ 
 
 ^<2< 
 
 ^A^C-'V 
 
 VEERE AND WILLEMINA 143 
 
 minutes ti'diii the liarhiiui'-iiiDurli. fnciiia,' the l)i'()\vii-sailc(l 
 tisliing-boats that steal out loiiii lieforc dawn on their quest, 
 nij good friend lionw opens his doors to travellers. One 
 enters through the bakery itself, fragrant with all numner 
 of appetizing odotirs. \"rotiw R(»tiw beams a gentle wel- 
 come, Katlije smiles widely (a, missing tooth or so, such 
 as one expects at seven, eni[)hasizing her smile), and 
 presently one is established as a paying guest: item, one 
 clean bed-room, sini])ly furnished; item, breakfast in true 
 Dutch fashion, eggs, cold meats, cheese, Itrown ])read and 
 white, hone\'-cake, luscuits and marmalade or jam, with 
 excellent cotf ee ; item, mid-day dinner, Avith famous 
 2)astries, to neglect which wounds the professional pride 
 of our host; item, tea set out like a regtdar meal, at -1- or 'y ; 
 item, supper, which is dinner minus one or two courses; 
 item, the use of the old-fashioned comfortable front room 
 on the level of the street, in common with one German 
 artist, one from Australia, and two from England ; all for 
 2i^ gulden a day, say a dollar! It isri't gilded luxury ; i)ut 
 who would be Lucullus or Vitellius ^ ^fvsidf, T hate your 
 Persian ap})aratus. 
 
 How can one narrate the inetfable ^ Life at \"eere 
 is perpetual peace, to those that love ])eace; intinitcdy 
 varied, like the play of light and shade on the strong cur- 
 rents sweeping through the A'eersche (iat towards the open 
 sea, but as little to be re])ro(lnced by brush or ])i'n. The 
 vulgar globe-trotter seldom tiuds himself so far from 
 "(^ook's Tourist Agency"; and there is nothing to keep 
 him should he come. But there is a veritable pageant of 
 
 ??fe,r-3";; 
 
 S'\f^ 
 
life for the open eye and the young heart. Down at the 
 ferry Mynheer Schippers phiys the part of a colossal, kindly 
 Charon, taking travellers of every sort over to Kanipeland. 
 The broad-beamed Arnemidden fishermen saunter up and 
 down the quay in their sea-boots, while the cabin-boys 
 wash the dishes on deck. The learned Domino passes, 
 book under arm, saluted even by the sternly uncompromis- 
 ing schismatics of the Gereformeerde sect, who call him a 
 ^'Moderate," or something equally terrible. Yrouw Dob- 
 belaar clatters round the cw-ner with a dish of green beans, 
 looking, with her rosy, withered, smiling old face under 
 her mutch, as if some Dutch picture of the seventeenth 
 century had come alive. 
 
 In the sewing-school one sees forty children learning 
 the art of the needle (too much neglected with us, alas!), 
 and is cruel enough to hold up a bag of chocolates as a 
 lure. The pleasant teacher, in her Tholen flowing cap, 
 nods acquiescence, and her young disciples take a lu'ief and 
 informal recess, to their own delight and mine. After 
 school-hours the snuill boys hang over the harbour railing 
 and catch })rodigious crabs that hide between the stones 
 of the ri])ra]i work. Meanwhile the other children have 
 crossed over to where one or two angles of the old fortifica- 
 tions jut out into the sea, and are bathing, in the scantiest 
 of costumes, with abundant splashing and shrieking and 
 innocent merriment. A dozen artists work silently at their 
 easels, resolved on doing their best, though ready to ac- 
 knowledge that the mystic charm eludes capture. iVnd 
 meanwhile the American Domine wanders here and there, 
 camera in hand, with an escort of honour on all sides, a 
 
 i 
 
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 VEERE AND WILLEMINA 
 
 
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 r)2 
 
 \J vi)^ \?^ 
 
 -,Csi' 'U ^S?;'?«c=^ V ■<::iO£;' U 
 
dozen little girls who chirrup iuei'i"il_y in tones so sweet 
 that he fancies C^.")tton Mather must he wrong, and the 
 language of heaven is not Hebrew l)ut Zeeuwsch. Digna 
 Yerton is the flower of the new little friends: Digna. 
 ten-year-old daughter <;»f the village carpenter. For the 
 sake of One Who wrought in wood in Nazareth town, all 
 carpentry is hallowecl hy a cleanly benediction; and Digna 
 is so gentle, modest, imiocent, loving, that she would have 
 been a tit playmate for the lad That learned His trade in 
 Joseph's slio]). The famous American ]>a inter whose house- 
 l)oat is uioored at Veere approved her as the fairest of 
 my little Hock ; and she may adorn an ini]>erial gallery 
 some day, all unknowing. 
 
 But old friends must not l»e forgotten; and chiefly, 
 Willemina. She is eleven now, and must work; so, all 
 day long, at the end of wheat-harvest, she and hci- brother 
 gleaned after the reapers, picking u]i every head of wheat 
 that had fallen, till hci' apron was (piite full. Back- 
 breaking work, at l»cst; but her smile was shyly sunny. 
 She lifted herself u]) to greet me, and there was never a 
 word of coni])laint that she could not join the frolicsome 
 ])arty as heretofore. Tt w^as she whose waving hand, 
 three years ago, beckoned me into the magic regions of 
 Zeelandish (diild-life, and I can never be sufficiently grate- 
 ful to her. 
 
 There are other AA^illeminas, though. The name is 
 very conniion among the loyal peasantry. And one who 
 comes to mind innne<liately is now ten years old, the eldest 
 of four sisters. They live on the home farm of a great 
 nobleman's estate, bv Kondekerke, where Mvnheer Dekker. 
 
Li 
 
 m 
 
 VEERE AND WILLEMINA 
 
 147 '$^ 
 
 ^i^ 
 
 fYAV'' 
 
 '3 
 
 ^te 
 
 
 
 
 wille:mixa ix her dooeway. 
 
 

 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 their father, is head farmer ; and I wish you could see the 
 exquisite neatness and propriety of everything within and 
 without the farm-house. One reaches it either across the 
 lields by a path so sheltered as to be almost a tunnel of 
 shade, or else up the long lane from the highway, under 
 over-arching elms and beeches. Either way is perfect; 
 and when the four little figures stand arm-in-arm (the 
 baby brother by their side) looking to see who comes, or 
 run pelting down the road to greet the well-known figure 
 of their friend from over-seas, it is lovelier than any scene 
 in The Bluebird. Indeed, when they escorted me half- 
 way to the further gate, and then returned, reluctant, turn- 
 ing at every step, to wave valedictions, the gracious, rosy 
 little people, in the old-world dress of the Nieuweland 
 fashion, were dream-figures, almost too good to be real. 
 
 One bright Saturday, their mother brought the two 
 older children into town, to lunch with me, in all their 
 bravery of bright-colored bodices and neckerchiefs, coral 
 necklaces, and gold head-ornaments, fairy-like caps, ample 
 store of petticoats down to their ankles, and adorable 
 smiles. Roses just plucked could not have been sweeter 
 and fresher. They courtesied duly, and with proper dig- 
 nity ; then, dimpling, each took an arm and marched 
 with me to a book-store, unconscious of any wondering 
 glances, serene and self-possessed. We found Hans Chris- 
 tian Andersen's immortal fairy-tales translated, happily, 
 and something else to go with it ; both were inscribed, in 
 imperfect Dutch, with sentiments which made them beam 
 delightedly on one another and on the donor ; and then we 
 sat down to their first iahle d'hote. You would have sup- 
 
 rrT~?i 
 

 <^^ 
 
 ^wm 
 
 v'-^ 
 
 ^-^^t? 
 
 ^"^ 
 
 01 
 
 
 VEERE AND WILLEMINA 
 
 149 
 
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 ^X^ 
 
 m 
 
 
 WILIIELMINA AND MARTINA WITIF Til K A .M KKK'AiV DO.MINE. 
 
 
^^'Vrn 
 
 
 150 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 posed they bad been bruugbt np at court I Xever a faux 
 pas; two daintier little paragons never left Titania's circle. 
 And wben we bad linisbed, and I asked, "Had von a good 
 time ^" Wilbelmina answered, "Ileerli/l-, Mynheer!" 
 
 ^ 
 
 T)(>nd)nrg nestles bebind its dnnes, amid its tangled 
 (_»ld trees ; cberisbing its Roman antiqnities, proud of 
 C^armen Svlva's affection for it, and affording tbe best 
 batbing on tbe I^ortli Sea. Westkapellc bears tbe berce 
 waves beat against tbe bigbest dykes in Holland, and pre- 
 serves its own distinctive ISTorse type nnminglcd. Zonte- 
 lande, ]3iggekerke, Meliskerke, Serooskerke, Aagtekerke, 
 all are nnbelievably pictnresqne, clean, bidden away. In 
 tbe fields by Arnemniden and l^ienweland fisber-girls toil 
 blitbely among tbe beans and tnrnips. Higb abo\'c tbe 
 river stretcbes tbe magnificent road on tbe dyke-to]) to 
 ^C^- ^"ronwepolder, tbonsands of gulls baunting it; and Oran- 
 jezon shelters in tbe forest near to tbe eastern end of tbe 
 dnne-cbain. 
 
 But Veere is best of all. Maximilian's Beaker is 
 empty now ; and yet tbey ponr from it a rare vintage of 
 marvellous potency. Qnafiing it, one forgets tbe turmoil 
 of modern life, tbe petty struggles for preeminence, tbe 
 '^^ quarrels and resentments, tbe vain ambition and frenzied 
 lust for pleasure. A vague melancboly pervades tbe air 
 on gray days, or at twilight, with tbe thought of old, un- 
 happy, far-off things — the crash oi Spanish arms, the great 
 calamity which sunk half the city in one night beneath tbe 
 waves, tbe pestilence that smote the English invaders ; and 
 one half expects to see tbe ghosts of the Scottish wool- 
 
 caS'WsDto^V^ii3( 
 

 
 VEERE AND WILLEMINA 
 
 151 
 
 merchant.s gathering round the d<:)orwav of the Scottish 
 House on the quay, or to meet some ancient ]\Iarchioness 
 of Yeere, stepped down from her niche in the Town Mall 
 facade. 
 
 But the sun rises gloriously over South Beveland ; the 
 hoerlnnetjes patter through the streets bound for school, 
 each face radiant with the same angelical innocence that 
 blessed John Wesley noted among Dutch children five 
 generations ago ; the brown sails flap in the west wind, as 
 the fishing-boats tack before the harbour-mouth; and the 
 
 chime tinkles out, "A mighty fortress is our God." 
 can be melancholy then ? Not I, in darling Veere ! 
 
 Wh(. 
 
 m 
 
 W4B 
 ^v-^ 
 
 mS' 
 
 
 
 c ' o-VciTii^ V<^cis^V^^c=^V^cs^'V^^a^'ij'^-7 
 
 iCiiS' V ^53<i:^ Xj^ "is;^^ X? "^Ci^ Xi' '^i:^ XT ^c:(^'^ 
 
EX(JEPT for certain eastern districts, in Gnelderland 
 and Linibnrg, all Ilolland deserves its name: it is 
 the Hollow Land, the jSTetlier-land, the Low Country, lying 
 below the sea-level, and walled round by sand-dunes and 
 sea-dykes. But it is none the less a land of many con- 
 trasts, circumdata varietate. ISTot in costumes only, nor 
 in features : the look of the landscape changes as one goes 
 from Zceland northward into Utrecht ; there is a ditf erence 
 in the architecture ; the dialect is not the same ; instead of 
 wind-bloAvn elms, wonderful avenues of secular beeches 
 stretch mysteriously into remote distances ; and there are 
 no longer the golden wheat-fields of Walcheren, but ampler 
 meadows where innumerable cattle graze, with crops of 
 beets and turnips for staples. Yet the Dutch character is 
 unchanged ; still the same sturdy independence, the same 
 love of home, the same gracious hospitality that gives all 
 those who profit by it a memory inefi'aceably delightsome. 
 As the big coronetted motor-car whisked us away from 
 Utrecht, past the majestic tower of the Cathedral, tragic 
 in its isolation, and out beyond the Maliebaan and the old 
 fortifications, towards the Castle of the Beeches, where 
 our charmino' chance accnuiiiiTaiiccs of the ]\[id(lelburg 
 
154 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 steamboat had bidden us, we were conscious of entering 
 upon a new experience, albeit we could have fancied our- 
 selves with lifedong friends. In the dark days of the 
 Cromwellian Rebellion, the son of a famous English poet 
 crossed over-seas to escape from Puritan tyranny into a 
 land of larger freedom than the "Commonwealth" afforded. 
 His descendants, disguised only by the addition of a Dutch 
 nobiliary particle, have intermarried with the most illus- 
 trious families of their adopted country and are now as 
 truly Dutch as any Knickerbocker family, after eight or 
 ten generations, is American. But they do not forget the 
 land and the tongue of their origin ; and ( fortunately for 
 stray American guests) as much English as Dutch is 
 spoken round their table, while the latest books and maga- 
 zines in the same language are at hand. I shall not forget 
 a family dinner-party of twenty covers, where, in honour 
 of the two American guests, all the conversation was in 
 our mother-tongue. Reverse the setting, and I fear we 
 could scarcely show ourselves so considerate. 
 
 The delightful eighteenth-century chateau is low, wide- 
 spreading, and homelike above all. An avenue of beeches, 
 two miles long, leads up to it from the highway ; and the 
 park in which it stands has wonderful vistas of the same 
 splendid trees stretching in every direction. Beyond are 
 wide moors full of game, cultivated fields belonging to the 
 home farm, and forests. The little village lies close to the 
 park ; and Mynheer is Burgemeester, the Queen's personal 
 representative, charged with all sorts of patriarchal func- 
 tions by the Government as well as with those belonging 
 to the lord of the manor. Tt is i>o(»d to see the beainina' 
 
l^S^Y^'^-'^f^fr^l 
 
 ^^^Trc^r\Y'^. Ki 
 
 A DUTCH CHATEAU 
 
 155 
 
 salutations lie receives from everyone ; good, too, to see 
 Frenle Margot wave a tiny hand with a "Dag, meisje," to 
 every little girl on the roadside, or to read the daily letters 
 IT'T''" addressed to the gracious, high, well-born Mevrouw by 
 b'^F^' the three old brothers who work the home farm, and who 
 sign themselves always, "Your affectionate boys." Feudal- 
 ism is out of date, the moderns tell us ; but it is infinitely 
 better, with its recognition of mutual duties and responsi- 
 bilities, than our hard, isolating individualism. 
 
 A French Roman Catholic Bishop from Japan once 
 visited the church whose unworthy Rector I am ; and as he 
 saw the marvellous carvings, the glory of the windows, the 
 costly loveliness of the vestments and the vessels, but also 
 the simplicity and severity of whatever had to do with the 
 congregation as distinguished from what had to do with 
 God's honour, he said, "M. le Cure, this is intelligent 
 splendour!" I liked the compliment, and, midatis mu- 
 tandis, I apply it to the Castle of the Beeches. Of vulgar, 
 flaunting, parvenu luxury, there was not a trace; but the 
 life there led seemed ideally domestic and peaceful, with 
 the graces of inherited culture and acquired wisdom. Four 
 splendid sons and one adorable small daughter make u]) the 
 family. One is at the university, studying law ; another 
 is a cavalry cadet at the Dutch West Point ; the younger 
 sons are still under tutors and governors ; and Margot 
 makes sunshine all over the ])lace, as is meet at thirteen. 
 (Anything more entrancing than her colloquial English, 
 with its occasional bit of slang, wonid be bard to imagine.) 
 The routine of life is, of course, imieli flie same as in an 
 American or Englisb eeiinri-y-lKjuse of e(pial dignity, but 
 
^a 
 
 witli less feverish excitement, less conscious effort after 
 amnsement. Sport takes a secondary place, as is right, 
 and there is more time for thought, for solid reading, and 
 f(;»r that art too much neglected among us, general con- 
 versation. It is not a 
 pension, which has in- 
 dependence for each 
 person living there, 
 but a Home; and I 
 loved it. 
 
 Motor-cars annihi- 
 late distance ; so we 
 saw all the country 
 round about under the 
 wisest g u i d a n c e : 
 Utrecht itself, seat of a 
 university and centre of 
 Dutch Old Catholicism, 
 with a history reaching 
 back to Roman times ; 
 Gorinchem, where the 
 martyrs witnessed a 
 good confession in the 
 time of Maurice of 
 Orange ; Woudrichem, 
 walled still, on the opposite bank of the Merwede, with its 
 massive brick church-tower ; Loevestein, the gloomy 
 twelfth-century island castle where Hugo de Groot, 
 Grotius, was imprisoned so long and delivered by his 
 brave wife's audacitv ; Hilversum, filled with handsome 
 
 CHUKCH TOWER. WOUDKIGIIEM. 
 
 
^^MTTJlWWWM^WJMV^MWM^Tll^J^^ 
 
 
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 ?V»c 
 
 A DUTCH CHATEAU 157 
 
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 ■''\r^ 
 
villas ill toi'inal li'ardciis, aii<l fa\'<»urit(' rcHiilciicc of Ani- 
 sterdain's elite; Zeist, with its AIoraA'ian eoloiiv ; Soestdyk, 
 home of the Queeii-]\J other, who seems still as well- 
 beloved as the Queen Regnant, Wilhelmina herself; 
 Leuzen, with the oldest church in all Holland; l^aarn, 
 environed with green; Heizen, (juaint tishing \'illagc 
 on the Zuider Zee; and IJnnschoten and Spakenbnrg, 
 further eastward on the same shore, wliei'c costumes have 
 not changed (they boast) since ( luirlemagne's time; 
 Amersfoort, with its beautiful gates and lowers, seat of 
 the Old Catholic Seminary; and many a trim little village 
 snugly settled among its dykes, by name unknown to me. 
 Speaking of the Old Catholics, it is a jjity that our 
 Dutch brethren of that Communion show so little mission- 
 ary zeal. Over and over I have spoken to Dutch friends 
 about the ancient Church of Holland, with its Archbishop 
 at Utrecht, his Suffragans and their clergy, and with a 
 vernacular Mass, as affording a haven of refuge from Cal- 
 vinism and Ultramontanism, only to l)e told: ''I never 
 heard of such a Church in our country!" The adherents 
 of the "Old Episcopal Clergy" are devout and earnest 
 people ; their services are reverent and beautiful ; and the 
 right Faith and the Sacraments have unquestionably been 
 preserved. But cui bono, unless to convert Holland? 
 Years ago, some Old Catholic from the ^vTetherlands hav- 
 ing made a disparaging comment upon the Anglo-(^atholic 
 Communion, Bishop Coxe smiled tinely, and quoted: 
 "Soror nostra parva. et nhera )io)i Jiahet" (Cant. .S:8). 
 Alas for the truth of it! ]Sr(nv, if ever, educated Protes- 
 tant Holland needs the C^atholic Reliiiion freed from 
 
 i^ 
 
 
^v- 
 
 Popei'v ; and lumiau (JaTlioiic llollaiid needs a city of 
 refuge from the mediaeval reaction of Merry del A"al and 
 the other obscurantists who speak through Pius's "infalli- 
 ble" lips. If only the Old Catholics would rouse them- 
 selves and evangelize St. Willibrord's regions, intinite 
 good might come. Perhaps they will ; even as our own 
 American Church broke away from aristocratic Toryism 
 into a sense of its national responsibility, and as the Scot- 
 tish Church, tired of living in the Jacobite past as a re- 
 sjDectable coterie of gentle-folk, is now doing glorious work 
 in the slums and among the crofters. Haste the day ! 
 
 The children of the peasants have laid aside any dis- 
 tinctive costume; they are (whether in consequence or 
 coincidentally) nothing like so attractive as mj ever- 
 beloved Zeeuwsch youngsters. But some of the old people 
 still preserve their ancient dress, and it sets them ad- 
 mirably. Mynheer's old carpenter and his wife, pictured 
 herewith, illustrate it ; such kind, rosy, wrinkled, sweet 
 old faces as they have ! In the fishing-villages there is 
 costume enough, rather Frisian in type, and not very 
 beautiful. The girls have three stages of style: up to 
 seven, from seven to fourteen, and above fourteen. Idie 
 men are still quarrelsome and ready with a blow or a 
 knife, as in old times when Karel de Keizer transplanted 
 them en masse where he thought they would be the least 
 trouble. But that border of the Zuider Zee is almost 
 wholly unvisited by travellers, and so keeps its proper 
 native flavour as few other regions can. 
 
 It was all incrediblv interestina; ; and vet, however far 
 
 -fi^vY^ 
 
 ^ 
 
we went, the best of it was the home-coming at dusk, with 
 the welcoming voices at the porch, the merry dinner-party, 
 with Margot at my side as an unfailing delight, and 
 Willem in his sober livery behind his mistress's chair, 
 directing the neat-handed maids in their service ; then the 
 bright drawing-room, and tea served, after the Dutch cus- 
 tom, which was English too fiftv vears ago; and sucli 
 
 c=^-u"^ 
 
 mm 
 
 A DUTCH DAEBY AND JOAN, 
 
 talk as one too seldom hears, till ten o'clock meant bed-time 
 for us all. O thrice, yea, four times blessed those fortu- 
 nate travellers whom St. Martin guided there! O me- 
 morable half-hour, which by a happy propinquity opened 
 magic doors to two wandering priests, and laid the founda- 
 tions of a lasting friendship ! Greetings over-seas, Chate- 
 laine of the Beeches, to you and your flock! Heaven 
 send I see you all again sometime soon ! 
 
 
 ^^if^^^i^ffi 
 
IT is not easy to stop writing abont Holland, when one 
 loves it. Bnt life is short ; and even the devoted lover 
 of the Low Country must lift up his eyes to the hills some- 
 times. Besides, a well-spent summer of travel ought to 
 divide itself fairly between seeing familiar scenes over 
 again (for the twentieth time, if they are dear and peace- 
 ful) and adding new regions of earth's beauty to one's 
 acquaintance. So, from the Castle of the Beeches I turned, 
 by a rather devious course, toward eastern Europe. But 
 first it was necessary to revisit Ostende, the finest bathing- 
 beach in Europe. 
 
 What a cosmopolitan crowd throngs the dyke north and 
 south of the cheerful little palace that Leopold built ! 
 Every national costume that survives in Europe, with some 
 from Asia and Africa, is displayed there ; and, even though 
 the levelling hand of the London or Paris tailor has done 
 its worst, it is as good as a lecture on comparative eth- 
 nology to stroll from one end to the other, eyes and ears 
 attent. Germans predominate, I think: indeed, up at 
 Blankenberghe, a few miles north, they have the whole 
 place to themselves practically. (And though some of 
 them are the disagreeable, bullying, overbearing, military 
 
 JJ 
 
 ^^^^■^i>C3\?^^x?^s 
 
 -1=s^'4)'^>?^(^'V^^V^c 
 
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 ^ 
 
 162 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 Prussian sui'r, that requires to be dealt with tiruily and 
 positively, there are others who are delightful. It is dan- 
 gerous to generalize, particularly in a disagreeable sense.) 
 But French, Dutch, Poles, llussians, Hungarians, Turks, 
 Arabs, Italians, Spaniards, all are to be found, with no 
 inconsiderable sprinkling of English and Americans, en- 
 joying the splendid sand and the pounding waves in 
 democratic good-fellowshi]>. It was three years ago that 
 Yvonne, (_^lairette, and Sinionne made friends with me 
 there; and a visit to l^uroix' would not be complete with- 
 out a glimpse of them all. 80 this summer, too, we met 
 again; and I heard all the news of the pensionnat. rejoiced 
 with eleven-year-old Claire on her first Communion, and 
 congratulated Yvonne u])on her first attempts at English 
 conversation — vastly better than my French, I must al- 
 low. Dear children they are, and a credit to the military 
 households where they have been brought up ! 
 
 The Belgian peasant is not so attractive as his 
 Dutch cousin, Arthur Sherburne Hardy's Wind of Des- 
 tiny to the contrary notwithstanding ; and very little 
 costume survives the cheapness of the ready-made cloth- 
 ing shops. But some of the old women wear a dress like 
 that of the Beguines of centuries ago ; and the clatter of 
 sahofs sounds pleasant across the flags of the market-place. 
 (Who that has read Ouida's Two Little Wooden SJioes 
 can ever forget it '''. ) And everywhere, I believe, from 
 China to Peru, a smiling face will find smiling faces, a 
 pleasant word Avill l)reak down barriers, a little kindly 
 consideration wull make friends. 
 

 
 OSTENDE AND NUREMBERG 
 
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 163 
 
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 WB 
 
 >^iU 
 
 
 C:^V"^ 
 
 YVONNE AND SIMONNE. 
 
 
 
 ^^^v 
 
 
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 164 ■- TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 But Osteiide was only an incident on a longer jour- 
 ney. There Selmstian and I parted, lie drawn to ISTor- 
 mandy by the attractions of a motor-tour, and I impelled 
 eastward, across familiar regions, in search of countries 
 yet unseen by me. All the way across Belgium and 
 Lux('ml)ourg was not a very long j(»urney, though I re- 
 gretted tliiit darkness had 
 closed in on us by Heristal, 
 and Aix-la-(^lia2:)elle was com- 
 [>letely hidden. But the glo- 
 rious spires of CV')logne stood 
 out against the midnight sky 
 superbly, while the city hum- 
 bled itself l)efore them as if on 
 its knees. And when, next 
 morning early, 1 took the train 
 for I^urendx'rg, the l)ri]liant 
 sunshine clothed everything 
 with splendour, and the Rhine 
 seemed worthy of all its tra- 
 <litions. 
 
 \ BEGUINE AT OSTENDE. 
 
 of the Continent, as if 
 
 It is the fashion to laugh 
 at the Government Railways 
 ours, privately owned, were 
 \astlv better. Ihit I take leave to doubt if we have any 
 giound for exulting. The German stations are much 
 hn( 1 than ours, there are fewer accidents, fewer delays, 
 and (once you learn the necessary regulations) fewer 
 aniKtvances. T do not like the compartment cars, I own. 
 
 
:iri 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 Aside from that detail, the German and Austrian roads 
 compare very well with ours : and the Swiss are much 
 bettor, with cheaper rates. The restaurant-cars, too, are 
 admirable and inexpensive ; and the officials of every sort 
 have a crisp, military courtesy which is refreshing. 
 
 The journey up the Rhine and across Bavaria to 
 Nuremberg is unbroken delight. Even the signs of domi- 
 nant industrialism cannot spoil the wonder of the river's 
 hilly banks, castle-crowned, the charm of the steep-roofed, 
 half-timbered houses set at every angle, the spell of 
 the old churches, the invitation of the valleys that wind 
 away into terra incognita, the peace of the rolling uplands 
 where rich meadows and fertile corn-land alternate with 
 forests, and the Bauer is the chief personage of his com- 
 munity. Perhaps I fancied it : but as we crossed the 
 Bavarian frontier, the landscape took on a gentler beauty, 
 and the people were friendlier than their northern neigh- 
 bours. There is far more difference between Prussian 
 and Bavarian than between Canadian and American ; 
 and the German Empire is not yet so perfectly fused into 
 one as to have obliterated very real distinctions between 
 Xorth and South Germany. The Wittelsbachs, sovereigns 
 of Bavaria, cannot help regarding the Hohenzollerns as 
 comparative 'parvenus among reigning families ; and the 
 blue-and-white Bavarian flag is universally displayed, 
 ^\diile one sees the German standard infrequently. They 
 tell a tale in Petersburg, that when at Czar Nicholas' 
 coronation a Bavarian ]n-ince was presented as "one of 
 the suite of Prince Henry of Prussia," there was a violent 
 burst of indignation from the Wittelsbach, who disclaimed 
 
 WM 
 
 -^^rD^ V -^^ 
 
aiij connection with Prussia and Prussians in the most 
 emphatic manner. And the incident is typical of the 
 
 general attitude. 
 
 Of ]^uremberg much has been written: "the Casket 
 of German gems," its people call it. But it can never be 
 praised too much. Girt still with its mediieval walls and 
 towers, the magnificent Castle topping all on its acropolis, 
 and divided 1)\' the Pegnitz, it must look to-day much as 
 it did when Peter Visscher and Adam Kraft worked at 
 their masterpieces, four centuries ago. There are electric 
 trams, to be sure, and better sewers than the middle ages 
 knew- ; but the modern buildings within the walls C( )nf orm 
 to the general type, and wherever you walk, it is into 
 enchantment. How they love flowers, these good Ger- 
 mans ! All the windows break out into a veritalde })ageant 
 of bloom, and every l)it of garden is coaxed to its utmost 
 capacity of flowering. If some unkind person says that 
 the worthy ]!*^urembergers know it pays to be picturesque, 
 the statement, though true, is no reproach; and only our 
 lazy indilference to the things that are more excellent 
 keeps us from making the same discovery. Such a market- 
 place as that which contains the Liebfrauenkirche and the 
 Schone Brunnen is as definitely related to the cost of 
 living as to the joy of lieauty. Ah, we Americans boast of 
 being practical; but we do not yet fully comprehend that 
 the utile is never so useful as when it blends with the didce. 
 
 The two most famous churches of ^N^nremberg, St. 
 Lawrence and St. Sebald, are both in Lutheran hands ; 
 
 rc\>r/^ 
 
 ^\f''- 
 

 168 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 wm 
 
 '^^ 
 
 ^'v'-^ 
 
 and thej, more reverent than Calvinists, have left most 
 of the glory and beauty of material things unharmed. 
 When I was a child I loved the exquisite verses of Long- 
 fellow — poet too much ignored hj a generation unworthy 
 his pure spiritual beauty : 
 
 "In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across broad meadow-lands 
 Rise the blue Franconian mountains, Nuremberg, the ancient, 
 stands. 
 
 Quaint old town of toil and traffic, quaint old town of art and song. 
 Memories haunt thy pointed gables, like the rooks that roTind them 
 throng: 
 
 >A'r7 
 
 Memories of the Middle Ages, when the emperors, rough and bold, 
 Had their dwelling in thy castle, time-defying, centuries old; 
 
 And thy brave and thrifty burghers boasted in their uncouth rhyme, 
 That their great imperial city stretched its hand through every clime. 
 
 mfn: 
 
 — f" 
 
 Everywhere I see around me rise the wondrous world of Art ; 
 Fountains wrought with richest sculpture standing in the common 
 mart ; 
 
 And above cathedral doorways saints and bishops carved in stone, 
 By a former age commissioned as apostles to our own. 
 
 In the church of sainted Sebald sleeps enshrined his holy dust. 
 And in bronze the Twelve Apostles guard from age to age their trust. 
 
 In the church of sainted Lawrence stands a pyx of sculpture rare, 
 Like the foamy sheaf of fountains, rising through the painted air. 
 
 Here, when Art was still religion, with a simple, reverent heart, 
 Lived and laboured Albrecht Diirer, the Evangelist of Art. 
 
 '^VYVYa 
 
 fu}^ 
 
 c^^ 
 
 Hence in silence and in sorrow, toiling still with busy hand. 
 Like an emigrant he wandered, seeking for the Better Land. 
 
 Emigravit is the inscription on the tombstone where he lies; 
 Dead he is not, but departed — for the artist never dies. 
 
02^ 
 
 Fairer seems the ancient city, and the sunshine seems more fair, 
 That he once has trod its pavements, that he once has breathed its air. 
 
 Here Hans Sachs, the cobbler-poet, hxureate of the gentle craft, 
 Wisest of the Twelve Wise Masters, in huge folios sang and laughed. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 
 Not thy Councils, not thy Kaisers, win for thee the world's regard, 
 But thy painter, Albrecht Diirer, and Hans Sachs, thy cobbler-bard. 
 
 Thus, Nuremberg, a wanderer from a region far away, 
 As he paced thy streets and courtyards, sang in thought his care- 
 less lay: 
 
 Gathering from the pavement's crevice, as a lloweret of the soil. 
 The nobility of labour — the long pedigree of toil." 
 
 Tliej came back to me, as I looked from the castle 
 tower over the red-roofed city ; and I remembered how, 
 when I used to read them, a little boy in New York, 
 ISTuremberg seemed so remote that I scarcely dared hope 
 to see it with my own eyes. Ah, if only I might have had 
 for companion that exquisite and gracious lady who first 
 taught me to love poetry, from whom I learned what was 
 in deepest sense my mother-tongue, and all that I know 
 of other languages as well, whose voice above my cradle, 
 reading Tlie Golden Legend, is my first of all memories, 
 how my joy would have been multiplied ! But these six 
 years she has known a City fairer than those of earth, 
 walking by the River of the water of life, clear as crystal ; 
 and we are lonely with an unassuaged loneliness. 
 
 Two memories are clearest when I think of Nurem- 
 berg. I went to the parish Mass in the Liebfrauenkirche 
 Sunday morning at 9 o'clock. Fourteenth-century Gothic 
 it is, lovely and pure, a true monuuiont of Christian Art 
 
 ■ '\f'-^Q:y' ty ^li^ V X»2^ Tj- \;a-^ ~j- \^(^ XT ^5?^"-ls<^ X/ ^isS^'/S&S^V ^ 
 
in general and in detail. Bnt it is also the centre of a 
 living faith. ISTot a place was vacant ; the aisles were 
 crowded when the Mass began — good-looking, wholesome, 
 honest folk of all social grades. The priest made his 
 Latin articulate and audible ; and the congregation shouted 
 the old chorales in such stirring and melodious ecstasy 
 as one only finds in Germany. There was real, loving 
 devotion there, the spirit of prayerful worship. (How 
 I wish the Wellesley professor who prates about "Prayer 
 as a survival of barbarism," in a recent Harvard Theolo- 
 gical Review, might have bent her stiff neck in that con- 
 gregation ! ) 
 
 Later in the day I visited the Burg, saw the Iron 
 Maiden and all the other devilish instruments of torture, 
 unwisely preserved for curious gaze, looked down into 
 the profundity of the castle well, gazed with mingled 
 emotion at the imperial suite, and paid my respects to all 
 the lions of the citadel. Then I sat down, under Cuni- 
 gunda's lime-tree, to meditate. But I was not left alone ; 
 a dear, rose-faced child of ten, with a veritable golden 
 fleece, came shyly to sit by me and make friends. We 
 talked of many things (she was clever enough to under- 
 stand my German!) — of her school, her home, her little 
 brother, her church: "I am Protestant, Herr Pfarrer," 
 she said with conviction. .Vnd ^svhen we parted, Sophie 
 and I, never to meet again in this life, I went down to 
 the Red Hen for my dinnta-, thinking how much more 
 interesting and wonderful is the soul of a child than all 
 the castles imperial j^ridc has ever l)iiil(l('(L 
 
MFjSTICH is as ditferent from Nuremberg as Milan 
 from Siena, or Cleveland from Charleston ; though 
 the differences are not precisely parallel, j^uremberg is 
 mediaeval ; Munich is modern. ]^uremberg is Gothic ; 
 Munich (except the Liebfrauenkirche and the Ilathaus ) 
 is Italian Renaissance chiefly. J^uremberg clusters round 
 a fortress, hill-enthroned; Munich spreads widely over a 
 plateau, with palaces and art galleries for its central 
 structures. Nuremberg is essentially Grerman ; Munich 
 is dominantly cosmopolitan. I like them both ; but 
 Nuremberg far more. Nuremberg lends itself to poetry ; 
 witness Longfellow's exquisite verses. Munich is a field 
 for fiction; as, for examples, Ilarni Lorrequer and Tower 
 of Ivory. The American and English colonies in Munich 
 are very large : students of music, painting, science ; 
 families living abroad so that the children may learn 
 foreign languages ; others attracted by the lower cost of 
 living; some few deliberately expatriated as a nuitter 
 of preference. There are also American and English 
 churches, our own worshipping in rented quarters pleas- 
 antly equipped, the English congregatiou iu a uew church 
 recentlv erected. Both do excellent work rcliiiiouslv and 
 
 
socially ; Lut one must regret that the priest of the English 
 church published an appeal for money in American news- 
 j)apers, entirely ignoring the American church and giv- 
 ing (inadvertently, perhaps) the impression that the sole 
 responsibility for English-speaking Churchmen in Munich 
 was his. 
 
 It is the fashion, I believe, to admire the vast build- 
 ings in Italian style which fill Munich's streets ; but I 
 must admit that they seemed to me cold, depressing, and 
 out of place as absurdly as a formal Italian garden is in 
 Connecticut. Something that smacks of the soil is far 
 better ; and the glorious new Rathaus, or the fine old 
 Cathedral of Our Dear Lady (so the happy German and 
 Dutch phrase always puts it) are worth them all. I 
 shall not forget a High Mass at the C-athedral, followed 
 by a Procession of the Blessed Sacrament, a class of first 
 communicants attending. There was an earnest, eloquent 
 sermon first of all — not a bad plan, that, and quite general 
 on the Continent. The great church was crowded to the 
 doors ; and the service following was so reverent, so un- 
 hurried, so decorously magnifical, that one felt quite at 
 home and scarcely noted that the words were Latin. It 
 might have been St. Mary the Virgin's or St. Clement's. 
 Roman Catholicism in Bavaria is not what it is in Rome, 
 or in Spain, or even in America. 
 
 It is strange how what we like best comes so often 
 our way. As I was searching for a place in the dense 
 crowd, a beautiful English child appeared by my side, 
 carrying Athelstan Riley's Guide to llif/h Mass Abroad, 
 and accompanied by an older conqianion. I had seen her 
 
MUNICH AND THE DANUBE 
 
 173 
 
 um 
 
 ^v-'S 
 
 
 tys^A^'n 
 
 
 '^<yy' 
 
 STATUE OF BAVAKIA, MUA'ICII. 
 
 
 W4 
 
 
 
at breakfast, in tlic " Emjlischcf llof" ; and it was a 
 delight to find seats tog'ether and whisper exphmations of 
 all that Avas happening in the service. She was far 
 lovelier, in her radiant innocence and piety, than any 
 saint shining there resplendent in the niches ; and I hope 
 she said a little prayer for her friend of that inorning 
 hi»nr who knelt by her side. You did, did j-ou not, little 
 Gabrielle ? 
 
 I do not mean to take yon with me through the great 
 Munich galleries. Filled with treasures, they are never- 
 theless soul-wearying by their super-abundance. A walk 
 through the English Garden is far more refreshing, or 
 a stroll through the ^^ai'k on the other side of the city, 
 beyond the colossal "Bavaria" that stands majestic before 
 the Hall of Fame. I never saw a great bronze statue to 
 equal it. At the other extreme of art is the delicious little 
 Buherlhrunnen, where a naked small boy spatters water 
 into the face of a beaming satyr, only to have it squirted 
 back at him — a perpetual joke in bronze, worth a hundred 
 of our frock-coated, creased-trousered, rigidly erect "states- 
 men" standing uncomfortably on pedestals in i)ublic 
 squares. 
 
 One is scarcely conscious of any transition as he 
 crosses the Bavarian frontier into Austrian territory. 
 The customs examination is a courteous formality (what 
 a pity we are so low in the scale of civilization on that 
 point!) and, except for the difference in uniforms, it 
 wonld all set in (lei-nnin-land alike. And vet there are 
 
many differences, even in accent and architectnre ; while 
 the Modernist Bavarian ecclesiastic, still mindful of 
 Dollinger and the days when scholarship was not held 
 incompatible with orthodoxy, is a long way removed from 
 his ultra-reactionary Austrian neighbour, Jesuit-trained 
 most likely. The heads of the states are not unlike ; the 
 wonderful nonagenarian Regent in Bavaria, King in all 
 but name, and Kaiser Franz Josef, youthful still in his 
 eighties, both beloved by their people. But the House of 
 Wittelsbach appears vastly more popular than the Habs- 
 burg-Lorrainers to-day ; and the people in Munich seem 
 to have a very real affection and respect for all their 
 royalties, such as Vienna knows not. It was interesting, 
 by the way, to see the gracious, sensible-looking elderly 
 woman, Mary of Modena-Este, mother of the Bavarian 
 heir. Prince Rupert, who by right of 1)1 ood is legitimately 
 Queen of Great Britain, as Mary III. and IV. Katu- 
 rally, I am a Rej^ublican of the Progressive wing; but I 
 can a little sympathize with a charming Andalusian 
 friend, who is honorary president of Spain's largest Re- 
 publican club, yet avows a Carlist preference for Don 
 Jaime over Don Alfonso : "T do not care for kings at all ; 
 but if one must have them, I want the legitimate rather 
 than the intruded. Legitimacy stands for principle, not 
 expediency," 
 
 -\WA/^ 
 
 It was at Linz that I first slept under the Kaiser- 
 liclie-Kbnigliclie flag. A clean, bright city of fifty thou- 
 sand it is, on either side the Danube, with dismantled 
 fortifications, a queer baroque Trinity column in its chief 
 
square, and a lovely green mountain overhanging, crowned 
 by a pilgrimage church. From its terrace, in the glorious 
 moonlight, the valley outs^n-ead below was like fairyland; 
 and even the merrily romping children hushed as they 
 looked down where the lights twinkled. At Linz, too, 
 I first encountered Austrian courtesy : when I descended 
 from the train, all the porters and hotel servants uncovered 
 and bent to right angles ; and the tram-conductor did the 
 same as he took my bag and carried it to a vacant place. 
 Even the policemen were deferential ; and the handsome 
 young army officers were all smiling and friendly. Rus- 
 kin, lover of Italy, said once, in the days before Italian 
 freedom, that no spot of earth was happier because of 
 Austrian rule. But I think he forgot Austria itself; it 
 seems a very happy land, and I want to know it better. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 '-=!)? 
 
 J'^ 
 
 5K^ 
 
 "^rra 
 
 It is a day's sail from Linz down the Danube to 
 Vienna. One makes an early start, on a clean little 
 steamer with good accomodations and excellent food ; and 
 the day is all too short, so full is it of unmixed delight. 
 
 There are rich meadows coming down to the river's 
 edge ; cultivated fields where women in bright peasant- 
 dress share the labour with their men-folk ; steepling crags 
 surmounted by castles that outdo the Rhine in picturesque 
 beauty; clean little towns washing their feet in the stream; 
 forests that must be surviving fragments of the great 
 Teutonic Wood ; ample modern chateaux with princely 
 names attached : and a constant come-and-go of interesting 
 people from every class. It is a veritable kinemacolor 
 picture, where one sits at ease in the open air and rejoices. 
 
 =>^^*C%- 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 
 POT 
 
 Tlic only drop of bitter in my sweet was the presence of 
 an American party : eight girls, two matrons, one man ; 
 all lond, nasal, obstreperuns, gum-chewing, unappreciative, 
 conversing of fashions and best-selling fiction, ignorant 
 of the language and the history of the land they v>^ere 
 traversing, ridiculing all they did not understand. The 
 women wore ear-rings and hobble-skirts ; they should have 
 been on a hotel veranda along the jSTew Jersey coast, 
 playing bridge. A dear old Austrian priest who had made 
 friends with me, on his way to a week's retreat at a 
 famous Benedictine monastery, looked at them wondering : 
 
 "'Are those fellow-countrypeople of yours ?" he 
 questioned. 
 
 "Yes," I replied, ''but of the baser sort, not typical 
 Americans." 
 
 I hope he believed me ; at any rate he blessed me when 
 we touched at his destination, and sought a blessing in 
 return. May both Ije granted ! 
 
 In mid-afternoon we passed Diirnstein, a survival of 
 the early middle age, with a magnificent castle still in 
 good preservation, whose walls come down from its crag 
 almost to the stream. There, so the legend says, Richard 
 Goeur de Lion was concealed by the Archduke of Austria 
 on his way home from the Crusade, until BlondeFs patient 
 devoti<:)n discovered him and made his ransom possible. 
 Some critics discredit the tale: but it is beautiful enough 
 to be true. A far cry from Diirnstein t() the ( liateau 
 Gaillard, where the great Plantagenet met his death- 
 Avound ! AVhat school-boy who ever read Scott dutifTilly, 
 liowever, Imt thinks of Richard as an imuiortal dclii:lit { 
 
 ;.'£?vv3 
 
 WT(P-. 
 
 
^m 
 
 ^j^^ 
 
 MUNICH AND THE DANUBE 
 
 179 
 
 k^ I 
 
 
 '^^ 
 
 DUENSTEI]Sr, 
 
 rt2 
 
 3C^'"i^''^^V^S^C^V''<iO§^. 
 
The Sim was sinking when we reached the pictnresque, 
 wooded heights above Vienna ; and it was qnite dark when 
 the steamer docked. But live minutes later, as I jolted 
 in a fiacre through the multitudinous lights of the Volks- 
 Prater, past the Prater-Stern, and over into the Stefans- 
 platz, I realized that one of the world's greatest capitals 
 was reached at last. Merry voices sounded everywhere, 
 music echoed from a myriad cafes, the streets were 
 thronged with gay crowds far brighter than those on the 
 rather depressing boulevards of Paris ; and I found myself 
 humming a Strauss waltz, remembered from under- 
 graduate days, in a swift infection of the spirit of Vienna. 
 
m 
 
 VIENNA AND SALZBURG 
 
 OF all the great European capitals I have seen, Vienna 
 ]) leases me most. It is brighter than London, more 
 historic and nioi'e picturesque than Berlin, more cheerful 
 than Paris, more wholesomely alive than Kome, ampler 
 than Brussels and the Hague. The green hill country 
 conies up t(j its borders, rich in forests and vineyards and 
 orchards. Indeed, three-fourths of the city's area ( as at 
 present incorporated ) is open space, park or farm-land ; 
 though the population is crowded into great blocks of 
 tenements after the unhappy fashion of so many cities. 
 Vienna is an epitome of the Austrian Empire : nay, rightly 
 studied, it carries one back before the dawn of European 
 history, into Keltic times ; and one's head spins as he tries 
 to trace Roman, Ilim, Avar, Jasomirgott, Babenburg, 
 Ottokar, llabsburg, through all the mazes of its annals. 
 Marcus Aurelins died there. The Turkish wnvv broke 
 into foam against its walls. And the Schatz-KaiiDncr, or 
 imperial treasury in the Hofburg. brings Charlemagne 
 and his successors, down to the baby king of Rome, almost 
 visibly before the spectator. But I must be on my guard 
 against the temptation to be guide-booky. Im]iressions, 
 after all, are Ix'ttcr than inforuiation, for uiy ])iirpose at 
 least. 
 
 7^<m}jj^Sfy0w 
 
 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
Ui 
 
 m:' 
 
 The streets of ^"ielllla are bright Avith varied costTiiiies 
 that help t(> make ])Iaiii the iniparalleled dixcrsity of 
 Franz Josef's reahiis. ^ Our ti'ue \'ieniiese is a hit of a 
 dandv, and his wonieu-folk rival those of Paris in the 
 daintiness and charm of their appearance. IJut side In- 
 side with those u]tra-mo(h'rn disciples of elite are Moslems 
 from Bosnia, gaily-dressed monntaineers of Galicia. ])eas- 
 ant women from Aloravia in to])-l)oots and scarlet skirts, 
 gaherdined Polish Jews with ringlets, black-eyed Magyars, 
 still wearing something of their ancient splendour, C^zechs 
 and halmatians, Italians from the yet ^'unredeemed" 
 regions along the Adriatic, Tirolese mountaineers in knee- 
 In-eeches, and twenty other ty])es. P]very where, too, are 
 soldiers: fine, pictur(\sqne fellows, with handsome ofticers ; 
 l)ut an incr('dil)le burden to the tax-])ayers, and a detriment 
 to every industry that nee(ls men. Perha]»s, when the 
 l)]ess('d day (d' disai'mamcnt conies, there will be men 
 enough in Vienna to can-y mortar and lay brick ami (dean 
 the streets, without putting those tasks and others even 
 harder u])on women's shoulders. 
 
 The old city lies at the centre of Vienna, and still 
 keeps its ]>rer'minence because of the Im])erial Palace and 
 the palaces of the great nobles clustered near it. Jdie 
 great (Cathedral of St. Stephen on the Stefans]datz is the 
 chief survival of middle-age architecture, though parts of 
 the Hofhiirf/ go back to the fourteenth centnry. Ibii the 
 splendid museums, the University Ituildings where six 
 thousand students gather, the classic Parliament buildings, 
 and the really glorious Gothic Rathaus are all modern; 
 and the wide boulevards that eneir(de the ('it\-, followina' 
 
 
 H'hl 
 
 
la 
 
 
 ^%r^^' .'^^'i5C 
 
 VIENNA AND SALZBURG 
 
 183 
 
 
 
 
 x^syvn 
 
 on 
 
 mi 
 
 
 ii 
 
 0^ 
 
 
 k^r 
 
 I'Alv'MA.M KN'I' lillLDl.XCiS AM) dTV 1IAJ>L. \'IK.\.\A. 
 
 ^nWMW/WflM) 
 
 
the lilies of the ancient walls and furtitications, more than 
 
 make up for the l()ss of the mediieval battlements. Then, 
 
 as one journeys outward through the snl)iirl)s, he hnds 
 
 bits of delighfnl old villages preserved among modern j, | 11 
 
 villas, or loses his way in the green solitudes of the '■'^'''h^^ 
 
 Wienerwald as if it were another Ardeii and no mighty 
 
 city with its two million people lay close by. It was 
 
 on such a woodland path that I met Teresia and Anna 
 
 one afternoon, little peasants, twelve years old, pale and 
 
 clean and gentle-mannered, each bending under a huge 
 
 faggot gathered in the forest. We sto])ped to make friends |f|frfi! 
 
 (never a ditficiilt task in such circumstances) and jn-e- ^-"-^'^^-^ 
 
 sently my camera came into use. When we parted, 
 
 Teresia came running after me, her burthen laid aside for 
 
 the moment. "Oh, ilerrschaft, do yon think it would 
 
 cost very innch if 1 were to have one of the pictures 
 
 sent back to me V She wrote her name in my book ; and 
 
 yon may be sure that hers was the very first picture that 
 
 I ])osted this autumn. 
 
 The visitor is never allowed to forget that he is in 
 a monarchical country. The magic Tv.-K. is everywhere: 
 "kaiserUcli c-l-nii i<iHcliP." "imperial-royal," from railways 
 to groceries. And there seems a very real affection for 
 the old Kaiser, who has reigned so long and through so 
 many vicissitudes that he seems already a ]iart of ancient 
 history. TIk^ Ixevolution of '4S, the long struggle for 
 Italian freedom, the readjustment of German states, the 
 practical establishuient of Hungarian iiide]iendence, the 
 downfall of Napoleon HI., all these and a score of other 
 
 WM 
 
epoch-making events he has witnessed, each one related 
 to himself ; and he still survives, a mighty, unifying force, 
 holding together under his sceptre a multitude of peoples 
 and races and tongues. What will come afterward, wdio 
 can say 'i The heir is detested. Socialism is gaining 
 rapidly, clericalism is doomed. It may be a group of 
 republics. More likely Austria will enter the German 
 Empire, leaving Czechs and Slavs and Magyars to fight 
 it out among themselves. Meanwhile the solemn first line 
 of the Austrian hymn has a deep significance, as the mili- 
 tary band plays it in the Hofhurg daily at 1, to open the 
 concert : 
 
 "God preserve lis Franz the Kaiser." 
 
 
 ■=kfe^ 
 
 What a contrast between the dazzling splendour of 
 the Imperial Treasury, and the crypt of the Capuchin 
 church, not far away! In the Scliatz-Karnmer they dis- 
 play Charlemagne's crown, sceptre, orb, alb, dalmatic, 
 stole, girdle, coronation-robe, and sword ; the insignia of 
 the Grolden Fleece ; the Florentine Diamond that Charles 
 the Bold lost at Morat ; the vestments of the iSTorman kings 
 of Sicily, eight centuries old ; and then, passing over 
 crowns and jewels of all the Habsburgs, the regalia of 
 jSTapoleon as the king of Italy, and the silver-gilt cradle 
 of the king of Rome. It is a cave of enchantment, whose 
 very walls blaze with cloth-of-gold and gems. "Pomp and 
 show of kings," indeed. But in the Capuziner crypt the 
 dead royalties moulder without even the decorous privacy 
 of the grave to hide their cotRns. Great, hideous leaden 
 sarcophagi, adorned with fat cherubs and grinning skulls, 
 
 S^o^-^aci^V-^o^^?^ 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 the gaudv licraMry UKtckiui;' ;il], nearly a liinidred and 
 fifty of them, hold the mortal part of the Habsbnrgs and 
 Habsbnrg-Lorrainers from Emperor Matthias in Hilli, 
 down to Empress Elizabeth and her son, the ill-fated 
 (Jrown Prince Rudolf. 
 
 How the names sound as the gentle old Franciscan pro- 
 claims them I AFaria Thc^resa, Francis L, J()se])li IT., 
 
 Lco])()ld 11., Alaximilian of 
 Mexico, wretched victim of 
 Xa])oleon lll.'s ambition, 
 ^larie L(uiise, Xapoleon I.'s 
 consort, and poor little 
 L'Aiglon. On his colfin 
 rests a Avreath tied with tri- 
 colour : the Xapoleojiic tra- 
 dition still survives among 
 other "lost causes." And 
 the whole ])lace ]U'('aches <:)ne 
 sermon: t^tc fi-aiisil (/loi'ta 
 III iiikJi ! 
 
 :\IARBLE FOUNTAIXy, CATHE- 
 DRAL SQUARE. SALZBURG. -^ , ,- ■ • n 
 
 Kuough ot imperiai 
 Vienna : now for sweeter regions and purer air. CJan 
 there be a quieter, brighter, cheerier little city in all 
 Euro]:)e than Salzburg, on the Salzach, capital of the <>ld 
 Prince-Bishopric, and dominated by the \'ast and gloomy 
 pile of Hohensalzburg ^ All about is lovely champaign, 
 the mountains coming just near enough to make the con- 
 trast more delightfid. The Salzach foams through th(^ 
 town between the wooded ( Vi])uziiierberg on the right 
 
 '■■YVJ 
 
mm 
 
 
 VIENNA AND SALZBURG 
 
 
 
 > 
 
 Dcu^Sy ^05^\r'-^c^ V'^<^ 4r ^.ciJ' V "<».-'<■■ is OS' V <isic:^ u '<c:'0' V -^sio^ V -oof V ^ti-- V 
 
and the Monchsberg and Ilohensalzburg on the left. The 
 iii'st one climbs by lovely woodbind paths; but the other 
 two, rising vertically four hundred feet from the level, 
 are more easily ascended by lifts. At their base quaint 
 old houses cling to the rock like swallows' nests ; and the 
 ancient cemetery of St. Peter contains the chapel of St. 
 Maximus, marking the spot where the martyr was thrown 
 down from the summit, fourteen centuries ago, l)y the 
 heathen Ileruli. 
 
 I never saw friendlier people than those of Salz];)urg. 
 Even the guards at the gloomy old Residenz (where the 
 divorced Queen of Saxony grew up, impatient of her 
 royalty) smiled cheerfully at all passers-by ; and two dear 
 small youngsters devoted a whole day to accompanying me 
 everywhere. Paracelsus died there, Mozart was born 
 there. But the present human interest of the place does 
 not depend upon old associations. You visit the torture- 
 chamlier of the castle and see the devilish devices whereby 
 the old Prince-Bishops were wont to shepherd their sheep ; 
 and, seeing, cry, as I did, Vive la Reiwlidlon ! Vive '89/'' 
 greatly to the delight of some French friends accom])any- 
 ing. But later, dining out-of-doors, in the leafy shades of 
 the ]\Ionchsl)erg, as the sunset glory fades, the horrid 
 memories pass, and you see only the enchanted city, whose 
 streets are full of boys and girls playing in the streets, 
 their laughter rising up, an acceptable oblation to God our 
 Father. Ah, Salzburg is better than Vienna ! , 
 
 'n 
 
 WMT^ 
 
XII. 
 
 INNSBRUCK: THE GHOST OF SCHLOSS WEIHERBURG 
 
 WIIEX I was a school-boy, I learned for declamation 
 Andreas Hofer's "Defence," and thrilled with joy 
 at the absolute sincerity and conrage of its splendid elo- 
 qnence. Years afterward, in Chicago, I met two de- 
 scendants of that matchless patriot, bearing his name; and 
 it seemed more glorions to descend from the gallant 
 peasant-hero than from the cowardly Emperor Francis, 
 in whose name he fonght and who betrayed him so basely. 
 It is Hofer, not any Habsbnrg of the lot, whose name 
 dominates Innsbrnck to-day ; and the Ked Eagle floats over 
 Tirol's monntains and valleys becanse of him and his 
 peasant comjianions-in-arms. llindful of that, I turned 
 my l:)ack on the starred ''hotels of the first class, frequented 
 l)y the English" ( vkle Baedeker ) and sought out the Gold- 
 iicr Adli'r. close by the swiftly rushing Inn, l)ecause llofer 
 used to lodge there. Then I went out from its cleanly 
 simplicity, ])ast the Golden Balcony, under the archway, 
 scarcely daring to lift up my eyes to the mighty liills that 
 are Innsbnu-k's northern boundary, and enter('(l the Ilof- 
 l-'n-rlic. ^Inxiuiilian's su]>erl) cenotaph is there, the kings 
 and queens in bronze standing on guard round about it, 
 Theodoric, Arthur, and all the rest, wondrous to see. But 
 
it was t(.) ]I(.»fer\s tomb that 1 turned mv rcvenait steps, 
 where his bones repose between kS])eekbaeher and Ilas- 
 pinger, his comrades. Jmjx'rial gratitncle erected the 
 tablet; but every mountain-] )eak in Tii-ol is in some sense 
 his monument, who kept Tirol free from foreiiin tyranny 
 when even his own sovereign consented to sign aw;iy that 
 freedom. 
 
 What citv couhl have a lovelier situation than Inns- 
 
 ■3> 
 
 dJ 
 
 &#^^^ 
 
 
 INA'SUKICK KKO.M SCHI.OSS \V KLl I KJiB L'RG 
 
 l)rnck ^ The Tun valU'y is wi<le iind fertile, and the rapid 
 river Hows :it tlie very foot of abru]»lly rising mountains 
 nine thousand feet high, nudging a northern wall like a 
 mighty fortress protecting the town. l]y gradual ascents 
 one reaches mountains even higher to the south and south- 
 east, shar]) ]>eaks where the snow lies late and comes early- 
 In the midst is the Flofhurg. the palace, and the Govern- 
 
INNSBRUCK: THE GHOST OF SCHLOSS WEIHERBURG 191 
 
 &. 
 c^'. 
 
 iiiciit huildiiiii's ; and hcyoiid them lies ilic / 1 (ifi/ai-lcii . the 
 l()\'oli('.st, most jK-acctuI retreat iiiiaiiiiiahle, iVmii wlKtse 
 Ui'ceii recesses one looks up to the iiia|estic, frown iiia,' snni- 
 niits that seem aetnallx- imjiendinu. AInch id' the town 
 is iiewlv hnilt, ahisl for it has now fifty thousand people; 
 hnt eiioiiii,ii remains of the n\A streets with their arcades, 
 their steep stairways, and tlieir many ,i;ahh's, to iii\'e the 
 ini])i'essioii of aniiipiity. Everywhere, too, one sees the 
 moniitaineers in iheii' lu-iii'ht costumes, the men hai'ed<nee<l, 
 with shoi't hi-eeclies ;ind ha If-sti tck i nii's, and wonderfnl 
 plumes in their hats, the women in hi'iii'ht skirts an<l 
 ^^^^^ bodices, with white oi- re(| stockini^s and hats oi as many 
 patterns as there are \dnaii,es. They are not heantiful, 
 these o'ood Tiroh'se ; theii' features ai'c hea\'y, the ex- 
 pi'ession dull, and the citnijdexioii poor, nsually. But 
 ^' they im])ress one as thorouii'hly honest and i^ood and kind; 
 
 ^^v^j and they ai'e always friendly and res]»onsi\-e, lik'c their 
 'I '' Bavarian and Swiss neiiihlxmrs of the same racial stock. 
 A steam-tram clind)s laboriously up past Wcvl!: Isel, 
 scene of IIofei''s \'ictory. and Sehloss Amin-as, to Ii;']s, 
 three thousami feet hiuh. with jdeasant mead<tws and wind- 
 \\[iX ])atlis anioii^' pine-foi'ests. Across the \-alley a funi- 
 cular railway ascends the II una,'erl)ura,', wdience are walks 
 throuii'h dwarf-e\-eri!,reens u]> to the nake<| desolalion ot 
 the limestone summits where no veo'etation is found. On 
 a. grassy terrace four hnndre<l teet al)o\'e the Inn, Sehloss 
 Weiherbnrg' stands, well-preserved, though somewhat 
 ^ fallen from its hiu'h estate as an archducal huntini!.--lo(lo(', 
 
 ■^' and now oidy a poision. much in fa\'oni' with l^nglish 
 
 visitors. 
 
 
 
 '5^^'j%> 
 
 ^^'^'\'r7 
 
 ^€^ 
 
 
 

 ■'»~?'V^^:^ 
 
 192 
 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 ^m 
 
 Here I digress. Several years ago, visiting on the 
 south shore of Massachusetts, a fdlow-gnest told me her 
 experience in Schloss Weiherburg ; and as wo shuddered 
 under "Testudo's" hospitable roof h\ the cliffs of Scituate, 
 I resoh'ed to visit that haunted castle some daj in j^erson. 
 Her story is this, told in the first person: 
 
 "Pa])a and I were staying in the old Stddoss overlook- 
 inii' Iiinsl>ruck, with rooms on the thii'([ floor. Aline was 
 
 
 mra 
 
 Xl 
 
 SCHLOSS WEIHEKBURG, IXNSBEUCK. 
 
 a corner room; then came a large (doset with doors open- 
 ing through; and Papa's room w^as 1)cyond. Pa])a had to 
 go to Vienna fV)r a few days, leaving me alone; bnt there 
 were many pleasant people whom I knew in the house, 
 and I wasn't at all lonely. The first night of his absence 
 another girl came n]> t(» call, and we sat talking till |)ast 
 ten. J felt a cold draught on my neck, and got u]) to see 
 
 14J 
 
 I I 6- 
 
 ^^ 
 
3^? >• 
 
 ^Iv^. 
 
 INNSBRUCK: THE GHOST OF SCHLOSS WEIHERBURG 193 
 
 if ii window was open aiiywhci'c, l)ut f(Hiii(i cvcrvtliiiig 
 closed tii>,lit, ill the other i-ooiii as in miiic, and the outer 
 door there holted. 1 closed the closet doors carefully, the 
 old-fashioned latches rattliiiii,' as I touched them, and 
 concluded that the cold air came through some crack in 
 the wall, or ill-litting casement. My friend left ])resently, 
 and T made ready for heel; l)ut 1 was disturlx'd by a loud 
 rap at my father's door. 1 ]>ai(l no heed to it, however, 
 and it was not repeate(|. ( )nce in bed, 1 stretched myself 
 luxuriously, and opened my eyes for ;i farewell glance at 
 the moonlight. 
 
 ''But I was not alone! A tigure stood close hy the 
 bed, so close that its knees ])ressed against thi' mattress. 
 It was muffled in a cloak which com])letely obscured its 
 outlines; but I thought at once, 'A burglar: what shall 
 I do ^ If I scream, he may kill me ; and I can't ]n'etend 
 to be asleep.' As I thought this, the tigure bent over me 
 and laid its clasped hands lightly on each shoulder and 
 on my feet. Just at that moment I remembered a story 
 I had heard the day before at luncheon, of a ])oor ])easant- 
 girl, generations ago, who had killed herself for love of an 
 archduke, and who is said to haunt the castle, under the 
 name of 'The Girl in the Blue ]\Iantle.' All my terror 
 ]iassed into profound pity and intense interest in the 
 phenomenon. 'Poor little girl in the blue mantle,' I 
 thought, 'you wouldn't hurt me if yon could: I'm not the 
 least bit afraid, only very sorry for you.' 1 lay looking 
 u]) at h(a' for several minutes, but she made no sign. 
 Then, I lifted my hand — and she vanished! 
 
 "All hour later I fell asleep ; and in the morning 1 
 
 V '•-<DQ:i'' U ^SDQrf^"' 
 
 SC^ V ^isiii' 
 
 :cs>- u v»c 
 
i 
 
 told my Eiig'lisli friends all alxnit it, cxultaul at liaviiii;- ^ 
 actually seen a i>ii(»st. They listened eagerly; hut, when 
 I had tinishcd, one of them said: 'Ah, my dear, von 
 don't know this old house as well as we do I 'Jdie givl in 
 the hhic mantle ne\'er goes ahove the second tlooi' ; hnt 
 there is an Enu'lishmau in Idaek who hannts the tliii'd !' " 
 
 I w<tnder why li\'ing is so much cliea])ei' in such 
 regions as Tirol than with us. The |)o|)uhit ion is deusei'. 
 
 
 A 'I'llioLKSK MKADOW 
 
 '^ 
 
 the agri<-ultui'al land is not so i-ich, meats are (d'ten im- 
 ^5r5 ported from America; and yet the traveller finds admirahle 
 
 accomnK.xhitious, with clean and conifortal)le rooms and (^x- -'^f^^ 
 cellent food, for ihe e(|uivaleiil of ^l.iTi or $!.:.() a day. 
 If he wishes to he extravagant, he can s])end %•! (U' $L\r)(); ^ 
 Init compare even that with I'ates at American snunuer 
 
 
INNSBRUCK: THE GHOST OF SCHLOSS WEIHERBURG 
 
 hotels or hot, stuft'y boarding-houses! A faiuilv which 
 shoiikl settle dowii quietly for the sunnuer iu Tirol or 
 Switzerland, Belgium or Germany, would save its steamer- 
 fare both ways, almost, in the one item of hotel bills. "See 
 America tirst" will not be an attractive summons until 
 we have as comfortable inns in our beauty-spots, with as 
 modest charges, as the European lands aftVu-d. If that 
 be treason, make the most of it ! But I write with bitter 
 memories of $4 and $5 a day hotels in the White Moun- 
 tains and along the ]\raine coast. Ah, we have much to 
 learn in practical matters from our friends over seas. 
 As I write, a parcel of letters from little children is 
 brought to me, written in French, Italian, German, Dutch, 
 and English. Some of the tiny corres]:)ondents are under 
 ten; and yet their handwriting and composition are better 
 than most American university students could show. 
 Here is Angele Daguet, of Fribourg in Switzerland, only 
 nine : and her letter looks like copper-plate engraving. 
 I think the good Europeans are more thorough, more pains- 
 taking, and more economical than we are ; less concerned 
 about speed and more about quality. I wish we could 
 import something of that temperament, after the fashion 
 of the Bulgarian lacto-ferinents ! 
 
 But to go back to Innsl)ruck : there is a university 
 of a thousand students, almost all Tirolese ; a museum ; 
 and many ugly and uninteresting churches, mostly 
 baroque. The Austrian empire is the last stronghold 
 of the Jesuits; and their influence on art and culture is 
 too well-known to need exposition here. Whoever saw a 
 bcaiitifn] Jesuit church, or read a stinndatiuu' Jesuit 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 book? (I do not forget TvrrcU, who was the exception 
 that proved the inde true, since Jesnitiy conhl not endure 
 him.) The pietv of the Tirolese peasants is refreshingly 
 sincere and ardent; l)iit as to the np])er classes, Austria 
 is to-dav where Italy was sixty years ago. 
 
 It is good, however, to walk through the fresh green 
 
 tields, geninied with mead- 
 ow-saffron, and see the 
 weather-beaten crucitixes 
 that stretch out arms in 
 Ix'uediction over the fruits 
 of the ground; and good to 
 tiud little shrines along the 
 wayside, each with its fresh 
 flowers and its kneeling- 
 place for prayer; good to 
 se(^ the uncovered heads 
 when the Angelus rings, and 
 to hear the hearty greetings 
 in God's Name w^hen even 
 strangers meet, yet know 
 one another as brothers in 
 indie warmer piety in our own 
 folk, by banishing that absurd false modesty which is 
 ashamed to be seen ])raying, treats God like a poor rela- 
 tion, only to 1)0 talked to, or of, with hesitation and re- 
 serve, and makes a virtue of its own cowardice? \ 
 
 THE GOLDEN BALCO^S'V 
 
 i:sf]s:sBRUCK. 
 Christ. When shall w^e kindle 
 
 
 '0M 
 
 ^''-S'^ 
 
^^cii'V-:^^ 
 
 XIIL 
 
 THE DOLOMITES AND CORTINA 
 
 OF all the roads in Europe, none can compare with 
 the glorious new Dolomitenstrasse, which the Aus- 
 trian government comj)leted late in 1910. It runs from 
 Bozen to Toblach, about a hundred miles through the heart 
 
 of the Dolomites : past 
 mountain tarns in whose 
 deep blue waters the 
 eternal snows are mir- 
 rored ; amidst vast forests 
 of larch and pine that seem 
 primeval until one dis- 
 cerns here and there a 
 ruined castle nine cen- 
 turies old, uprearing its 
 battlements above the tree- 
 tops ; over passes between 
 gigantic peaks that impend 
 threateningly from ten 
 thousand feet of height; 
 down long descents that 
 whirl and ^vind like the 
 vol-plane of an aero- 
 A DOLOMITE GLE.x. plane; bv rockdiewn tun- 
 
 Twn. 
 
nels whose windows frame incredibly beantifid pic- 
 tures; through little villages (some of them dirty and 
 slovenly, Italian fashion ; others worthy of Tirol in their 
 cleanly simplicity) with old-fashioned, comfortable inns 
 that have not yet been wholly overshadowed by the grand 
 hotels springing up along the route ; under the guns of 
 fortresses where kodaks are "most strictly prohibited" ; 
 along the narrow shelf that overhangs a j^i'ofo^^nd valley 
 descending almost vertically, but whose green walls are 
 tilled, every square foot of them, or gix'en over to ha}'- 
 harvesting; traversing wide upland meadows starred 
 with autumn crocuses ; and always matchlessly beau- 
 tiful. 
 
 From Innslu'uck one goes to Bozen over the Brenner 
 Pass : not now on horseback or in carriages as for nine- 
 teen centuries, but by a comfortable express train, in 
 about four hours, with entrancing glimpses of valleys 
 either side, and castle-crowned crags beetling above the 
 road. Half-way is the ever memorable Sachsen-Klenime 
 where the gallant Tirolese defeated Lefebvre and his 
 army in 1809, rolling artificial avalanches down the pre- 
 cipitous walls of the defile. Bozen itself goes back to 
 Roman times ; and its vineyards and orchards, sheltered 
 from the cold l)y mountain-walls, are evidence of Italy's 
 neighbourhood. The bright old city is thriving and pic- 
 turesque, though too hot for summer or autumn visits. 
 The fruit-market is a delight such as one rarely finds ; 
 and the long arcades, Lauhen, such as one sees at Inns- 
 bruck and Lugano, are refreshingly clean and cool. The 
 fourteenth-century Gothic parish church, its west portal 
 
 trr-f^ 
 
 is' tr ^ix>-g<ys<i^'^'<:s»i^s(ii^ xr' ^ioQ 
 
THE DOLOMITES AND CORTINA 
 
 ^:' 
 
 
 mp2 
 
 guarded bv two red marble lions older than itself, uplifts 
 a gracefnl, open spire two hundred feet above the Walther- 
 Platz and its nionnineiit to the minnesinger, Walther von 
 der Yogelweidc. ( 'astles look down from the heights 
 above: Burg Karneid, and the twelve-ceutnries-old Burg 
 Firmian being chief. But when one lifts his eyes to the 
 hills and sees for the first time the sunset glow on the 
 eastern peaks of the Roseugarten, all else seems scarcely 
 worth notice. 
 
 The Dolomites, as all the world knows, are mountains 
 of gray magnesian limestone, cold and bare enough where 
 not clothed with ice, and worn by the weather into astound- 
 ing pinnacles, chimneys, pyramids, towers, castellated sum- 
 mits, that seem to have been moulded by a Titanic archi- 
 tect. The highest summits are between ten and eleven 
 thousand feet above sea-level; and there are wooded foot- 
 hills and fertile valleys throughout the whole region of 
 say three thousand square miles. When the rays of the 
 rising or setting sun touch the gray mountain-tops, all is 
 transfigured; the world seenjs on fire I It is something 
 like the Alpine-glow one sees on the snow-capped Jungfrau 
 sometimes ; but a deeper, richer, more empurpled tinge is 
 spread over the Dolomites. Rose-gardens indeed they seem 
 for the too brief period of the wonderful phenomenon. 
 
 I saw it at its best when, at 6 o'clock one bright Sep- 
 tember morning, I crossed the square to take my place in 
 the motor-post for Cortina di Ampezzo. Sinc(» the new 
 road was completed, the Austrian government has dis- 
 placed its old mail-coaches by handsome motor-cars, seats 
 in which are reserved at the ]iostoffice for a very reason- 
 
 m 
 
 V '■<:DC2i^ \f 's::oo-^ V* <:r? 
 
able charge. One can book throngh, or stop oft" as he likes ; 
 but in the latter case there is always some uncertainty as 
 to finding a vacant place when it is desired. J^eaving 
 Bozen so early, Cortina is reached at G o'clock, with a long 
 halt for luncheon at C^anazei. What a day of delight ! 
 
 The autumn manoeuvres were on, and we had two or 
 three handsome Austrian oflicers for companions, passing, 
 besides, several encampments of troops who all waved 
 cheerful greetings at us and looked like bo^-s out playing 
 a rather elaborate game. If that were all it was ! I had 
 the same feeling later, when I saw the Swiss soldiers 
 bivouacking above the St. Gotthard. Taken as sport, it 
 was doubtless good fun; l)ut when I recalled that it might 
 be deadly earnest any year, and that all these elaborate 
 prej^arations tended to provoke war rather than to preserve 
 peace, I became more than ever a champion of disarma- 
 ment and the Plague Tribunal. 
 
 At Canazei we found the old order and the new side 
 by side. There was a Grand Hotel, with liveried 
 flunkeys, at the very foot of Sella ; and the motor-post 
 pulled up in front of it. All my companions (Germans 
 and Austrians entirely) surrendered to the brass-l)ound 
 portier and were led within, to a table d'hote. I knew 
 better ! Across the valley, among evergreens, beside a 
 little glacier stream, stood the Gasthof Weisses Kreuz, 
 unpretending, primitive. Thither I went, alone ; found 
 a spotless little bed-room under the open roof -beams (it 
 rented for one crown a night, say twenty cents), refreshed 
 mvsclf, ate and drauk of the best, out-of doors in the gar- 
 
 
den I)}' the brook, breathed balsamic fragrance, chatted 
 with the kindly old WirfJi — and paid 40 cents for all ! 
 iieturning to the motor, I heard bitter lamentations: "We 
 paid ten crowns and rose hnngry from the table!" one 
 angry Prnssian declared. Ah, the simple life is better 
 every way; but unless yon hnrry, I fear you will find the 
 D(tlo))}/lensiirisse lined with "Grand Hotels," and will 
 have to search long for inns like that of the White (Jross. 
 
 How the sonorous mountain-names thrill one ! Mar- 
 molata, Cincpie Torri, Tre CU'oci, Tofana, Pomagognon, 
 Pelmaj Sorapis, Croda Possa, Cristallo and ( h-istalliuo, 
 fifty luore, each to its pro^Dcr praise and own account. 
 The Pordoi Pass is almost seven thousand feet high, and 
 the long white road soars over it ^vith scarcely an effort. 
 
 Of all the towns on the road, Pieve-Buchenstein 
 seemed most incredible. ( It must not be confused with 
 the more famous Pieve di C-adore, Titian's birthplace, 
 further south, over the Italian border.) The Sella group 
 towers above it; and the traveller is astonished t<> find 
 that the one long street of the village, so narrow as to be 
 barely passable, is built out over a valley so deep that one 
 shivers looking down from the rear Avindows of the houses. 
 A lovely church lodges somehow there, and there is a com- 
 fortable hotel ; but how the farmers ever venture down 
 those abrupt hill-sides to reap or to mow, 1 cauriot con- 
 jecture. 
 
 Cortina di Ampezzo, in a wide, fertile valley, is the 
 veritable queen of the \vh<»le district. There are vast 
 mountains on every side, snow-covered or naked ; but they 
 are sufficientlv far awav not to secui threatening, and the 
 
 W^ 
 
 
m^. 
 
 THE DOLOMITES AND CORTINA 
 
 immediate regiuii is smiliiiii and deliglitful. 'I'lie l<.)iig 
 village street winds nj) toward Toblaeb, past the clinrch 
 with its fine detached eam])aiiile (rivalling St. Marlv's, 
 the proud Cortinese claim), with many good, comfortalde 
 homely inns and two or three large modern houses "fre- 
 quented by English and Americans" — ••^iHy folk to llock 
 together so ! Myself, I recommend to you the Hotel Cor- 
 tina, opposite the church, where yon can eat out-of-doors 
 on a terrace overlooking the whole life of the piazza, watch 
 the moon rise above the mountains, and talk with the gra- 
 cious Marianna, niece of Sior Apollonio, your linst, who 
 is charged with the dutv of seeing that the ti'uests are well- 
 served. Aj^ollonio is the great name of this valley ; tluu'e 
 are any number of gentlefolk who l)ear it and have borne 
 it for twenty generations. (Inn-keeping is an hoiuirablc 
 profession in Tirol, and one sees the coat-of-arms of bis 
 host hanging above the otHce-do(U' comiuoiily enough. ) 
 Apropos, the old .Castell di Zanna, seven or eight centuries 
 old, just outside the town, is still in the hands of the fam- 
 ily that takes its name therefrom; but part of that ancient 
 structure is now an automobile rej)air sho]), the days of 
 robber-liarons having passed but the old instinct sur- 
 viving ! 
 
 It was the Xativity of the Blessed Virgin, and all 
 the country-people came down from their mountain farms 
 to keep the feast, brave in the quaint and vivid costumes 
 which Ampezzo preserves still. Good, honest folk they 
 were, with miudi dignity of bearing, and friendly smiles, 
 but, fV)r the most part, (piite without beauty. Two little 
 
maids were caught unawares by my camera, one of them 
 looking heavenward as if she saw a vision. After Mass, 
 there were the usual noisy accompaniments of a fiesta; 
 and I turned away from the crowd to explore for myself 
 a wooded mountain-side westward. Idie path dipped 
 downward, crossed a roaring torrent, and then climljed 
 
 higher, eve r higher, 
 through the most wonder- 
 ful larch forest I ever saw. 
 There was no undergrowth 
 to choke the way and im- 
 pede the view ; it seemed 
 as if all had Ijeen parked 
 by some skilful gardener 
 who knew how to conceal 
 his art. Little pastures 
 appeared, set round with 
 trees, but themselves quite 
 level and jewelled with 
 meadow-saffron, its snnill 
 purple flower almost car- 
 peting the field as in early 
 Italian pictures of Para- 
 dise. Further on, the long 
 vistas of slender, graceful 
 trees, with their feathery branches, opened out magically ; 
 I should scarcely have wondered to see Our Lady herself, 
 with l)right angels and saints for a guard of honour, come 
 down the green arcades, keeping her own festival in a 
 place of such supernal beauty ! 
 
 TWO LITTLE AMPJiZZO MAIDS. 
 
MB 
 
 THE DOLOMITES AND CORTINA 
 
 xVt last I reached a little lake, set round about with 
 greenery, and reflecting the abrupt mountain-wall that 
 towered a mile above it. A cottage stood there in the 
 wood ; and a beaming old contadina brought forth eggs 
 and cheese and black bread for my refection. She spoke 
 only Italian in the dialect of her region; and what little 
 Italian I have is Tuscan. But we understood enough to 
 be mutually pleased ; and when I turned my back upon 
 Laghi Ghedina and wandered down another way into the 
 valley of Cortina, I felt as if I had penetrated into the 
 very sanctuary of the Dolomites, and seen the central 
 jewel there enshrined. 
 
 / 
 
 ^^. 
 
XIV. 
 
 A FLIGHT THROUGH SWITZERLAND 
 
 FROM Innsbruck to Bregenz throngh the VorarllxTg 
 is alinost as wonderful a journey by rail as that on 
 the Albula Railway from Chur to St. Moritz. Precipices 
 above and below the line, tunnels, snow-covered summits, 
 fertile valleys, castles and convents, roaring mountain 
 torrents, busy manufacturing towns : one catches glimpses 
 of all, yearns to explore at leisure, but presses onward 
 towards the Swiss frontier notwithstanding. At Bregenz 
 the search for any memorial of Adelaide A. Proctor's 
 heroine of ''The Legend of Bregenz''' is unavailing: no 
 one ever heard of her or her gallant deed ! But once St. 
 Gallen is reached, ''Ekkehard" becomes a useful guide- 
 book, even though little remains of the old monastery which 
 the Iluns destroyed, except some of the Irish manuscri])ts. 
 I wrote of Appenzell two years ago, in these pages ; and if 
 by chance you remember my delight in that cheery moun- 
 tain capital on its plateau by Sentis, you will not wonder 
 that I rejoiced to have a restful Sunday there, in the same 
 old ''Lion" inn where I lodged then — in the same bed- 
 room, with the same broadly beaming landlady to welcome 
 me. How marvellous the bright costumes and the won- 
 derful ]]( nd-<lresses Siiudnv uioruiuu', as tliev crowded the 
 
 "-IMM 
 
 
})arisli ebiii'cli I 'I'lic SehlTissli presided above tlie iiuirket- 
 place, facing the aiicieut t(_>\vii-lioiise with its })rison-cells 
 under the roof; and Sefeli, selling endjroideries and pic- 
 ture-postcards by the Kloster gate, reinenibered the Ameri- 
 can visitor — not many get so far away from the l)eaten 
 track. 
 
 That same desire to see places over again sent me 
 flying across all Switzerland, from Appenzell by Ziirich 
 and the St. Gotthard Tunnel, to Gandria, that enchanted 
 village which impends above Lake Lugano, on the Swiss 
 frontier. What a joy it was to find place and peojde 
 unchanged ! The Seehof was as clean and primitive as 
 ever; my bed-room looked out over the transparent w^aters 
 of the Lake (emerald, beryl, jade, according to the light 
 that strikes them) to Caprino, Generoso, San Salvatore, 
 with all the incredible picturesqueness of their outlines, 
 great purple masses so astounding that one rul)s his eyes 
 to make sure it is not a drop-scene in a theatre. On the 
 terrace they served w^holesome fare at little ir(_)n tal)les 
 actually over the water, the fish coming wp to catch the 
 crumbs I dropped for them. The quaint little l)oats, with 
 their awnings, go past, the oarsman standing wdth his face 
 to the bow, gondola-fashion. (At night the Swiss and 
 Italian customs-launches sweep the surface of the lake 
 with search-lights, to see if smugglers are setting tarift' 
 laws at naught by means of those same boats.) Above 
 rises the towui itself, with its narrow streets where never 
 horse or wheeled vehicle has gone; each tiny bit of garden 
 hewn out of the mountain-side, even God's Acre itself 
 curiously set in an angle of the rock-walls that dro]i d(^wn 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 ^ HI ^'X 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 into the lake. The old cliureh lifts its weather-beaten 
 frescoes patheticallj- to the snnlight, and friendly children 
 play in the piazzella before its open doors, ready to show 
 how the l)ells are rnng, or to fetch the kindly old parroco 
 if }'(>u want to see him. Olive trees make a gray mist on 
 either side along the mountain, and clusters of grapes 
 hang ()ver the walls, even above doorways. Best of all, 
 my bright-eyed little playmate, Thea, was there, un- 
 changed except for two years more of maturing, but still, 
 thauk God, child-like and radiantly happy. We sat in 
 the garden that has been her family's possession since 
 Gandria began to be, and watched the lengthening shadows 
 of the western mountains in a sort of serene beatitude, 
 remembering that Paradise means a garden, and rejoic- 
 ing that here was nothing more serpentine than the lizards 
 basking on the garden wall. Thea's English has in- 
 creased ; but when it failed or my French and Italian 
 proved insufficient, the brilliant young painter who was 
 my fellow-gaiest at the Seehof helped out. Himself from 
 Basel's most famous family of scientists, art had claimed 
 him for her own, and his Paris studio on the Bive Gauche 
 is brightened by glimpses of Gandria on its walls. How 
 peaceful and friendly it all was ! May ''personally con- 
 ducted parties," Cook's tourists, and all that class never 
 bring into my Gandria the note of their hustling, offen- 
 sively curious, unsympathetic bad manners. Should they 
 discover it, I foresee a German head-waiter in soiled even- 
 ing clothes instead of the modest little maiden from Ein- 
 siedeln who served me on the terrace of the Seehof, a 
 wreTched fultlc d'hufe to supplant the d<:»mestic fare, the 
 
 
Ss:ivr> 
 
 
 I 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 
 A STREET IN GANDKIA. 
 
 ^^i^c^^^.*.^ 
 
Paris edition of the Xew York Herald on sale, and all the 
 other accessories of vulgarity. Ahsif omen. 
 
 The change from Gandria to Goeschenen is like that 
 from midsummer to late fall. As I tried to write in the 
 garden of the Rossli, the wind blew down from the glacier 
 so coldly that I was glad to shelter myself indoors ; though 
 the scent of the evergreens was delicious, and the pleasant 
 tinkling of the cow-bells as the cattle came down from 
 pasturing made music that was a joy indeed. The streets 
 of the little Alpine town were filled with soldiers, out 
 for the autumn manceuvres ; defending the St. Gotthard 
 against a hypothetical Italian attack. They seemed to 
 enjoy it all as a sort of picnic, bivouacking round open- 
 air kitchens, fishing for pieces of meat in the soup-kettles, 
 and talking all together in the strange singsong which 
 distinguishes Swiss German ; but a vivid imagination 
 could see the play turned into earnest, the black gorge of 
 the Schollenen running red with blood (it has done so 
 before this!) and the round-faced Swiss lads lying dead 
 in hundreds on their own mountain-sides. Ah, war is a 
 barbaric survival, never necessary any more ; cruel, eco- 
 nomically wasteful beyond calculation, and only less tragic 
 for the victors than for the vanquished. Long live Arbi- 
 tration and the Hague Tribunal ! 
 
 The Furka Pass is one of the gloomiest and most 
 majestically austere in all the Alps. Over the Devil's 
 Bridge the post careers, through the Urseren Valley, past 
 iVndermatt and TTospental and Realp, climbing ever higher 
 and higher in spirals that dizzy one to follow. Grassy 
 

 
 
 
 THE KirOXE GLACIER. EUKKA PASS. 
 
 fWM^M 
 
 
slopes descend almost vertically ; barren, desolate peaks 
 rise on all sides ; glaciers discharge their foaming streams 
 into the brook far below ; and countless Alpine flowers 
 brighten the Avajside. At the summit, between two naked 
 horns, eight thousand feet is reached, and a panorama of 
 the Bernese Alps opens out abruptly. The descent to 
 Gletsch, three thousand feet below, is more abrupt, pas- 
 sing close by the frozen cataract of the great Rhone 
 Glacier. 
 
 From Gletsch to Brigue, through the upper Valais, 
 is a journey not so commonly made, as most travellers go 
 over the Grimsel to Meiringen instead : but it is amazingly 
 picturesque in its remoteness and simplicity. The road 
 follows the Rhone, for thirty miles through a valley green 
 and fertile, though not far from five thousand feet high. 
 German, Italian, and French Switzerland are all here 
 within easy reach, as the names of the towns indicate. 
 Here, as in the Black Forest, vast dung-hills are the 
 peasant's treasures, piled up at his door ; and cleanliness 
 is not conspicuous. If the traveller is fortunate, he may 
 catch a glimpse of a herd-maid in the ujiland pastures, 
 habited man-fashion, after the antique use of Valais. 
 There is never silence in the loneliest part of the valley ; 
 the rushing Rhone fills it with sound. 
 
 If there were space, I should tell of Brigue itself ; of 
 Visp, where the mountain railway climbs laboriously up 
 to Zermatt, damp, dirty, cheerless, wrapped in fog, noth- 
 ing like so attractive as half a dozen places in the Ober- 
 land, and with only a moment's glim]')se of the awful 
 Matterhorn for coriqx'usation ; of Sioii, ]\rartiguy, Triont, 
 
A FLIGHT THROUGH SWITZERLAND 213 
 
 and the Tete jSToir ; of Vevey and Lausanne; and of 
 twenty other places worth seeing'. Bnt, alas! life is roo 
 slu)rt. Stop with iiic tor a uioiiieiil, however, at Fi-ihourg, 
 
 
 S^ 
 
 -.47 
 
 ^^ 
 
 to- V ^ 
 
 A ^'I.STA OF FKIPiOUKG 
 
 centre of the French Itonian ( 'atholic region of Switzer- 
 land, and pictures(|uely beantiful Ixwond Ix-lieving. The 
 great ('hurcli of St. Xieholas, fourteenth century work 
 mostly, duniinates the town ; but the old walls and towers 
 
 iZ2^ 
 
 ^'^^■S 
 
 
 -rr-:r^:;3^ 
 

 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 wliieli still reiiiaiu, iiiedia'val houses that climb up from 
 
 the banks of the encircliug Sarine to the heights overlook- 
 
 ^?^ ing it, the great suspension bridge, and the little hamlets 
 
 I ! just outside, each with a character of its own, whether 
 
 'l^'S lyii^S ^11 ^1^^ deep caiion of the river ov clambering up it.- 
 
 sides, make an effect which is scarcely paralleled in 
 
 Europe. From the railway one sees nothing of all this: 
 
 and those travellers who stop ofi' a train to hear the famous 
 
 organ and hurry on are little better off. Friliourg will 
 
 j\U^ show you its heart only if you are resp(>ctful and un- 
 
 ^ hurried. 
 
 .: . V There, as always, I found the most memorable object 
 
 K?^ a little child. A group of children played, one Sunday 
 ■(Y^ afternoon, in the Grand' Places ; and as I went by, one 
 ^^ detached herself from the others and ran straight to me : 
 Aj^^ grace of congruity, I like to think. A tiny, chubby, dainty 
 maid of eight years, she was, in a stiffly starched muslin 
 frock, Angele Daguet by name. She put her hand in mine 
 and went with me down to the huge lime-tree which is Fri- 
 Ixturg's central point, chattering gaily. We parted there ; 
 but when I returned from the lower town and all its 
 delicious corners that seemed as in the days of the Zaehr- 
 ingens, Angele was waiting for me, like an old friend, 
 and we finished the afternoon together. Fetite hourgeoise, 
 dwelling over her father's tin-shop on the Rue des Alpes, 
 l)ut altogether darling: her picture stands before me as 
 1 write this, with a letter beside it written so exquisitely 
 that I blush for our own American children: 
 
 A moil hie II c/icr (/rand Ami, it bcii'ins, and ends. 
 
 ''\I%D 
 
 
 jm. 
 
 ^^'^'5^i%^r^m^^f^='Mi 
 
 
Recevez une bonne [x'tlte polgnee dc mains de voire Anyele. 
 Dear thing I 
 
 In other years I have written of the Thnner.see, where 
 Gunten lies so jx'accfully, its gardens h)oking up to A'iesen 
 and beyond to the matchless glory of Bliimlisalp, Eiger, 
 JVIonch, and Jnngfrau. How good it was to revisit that 
 enchanted regi(>n ; to cliinh up above Aeschlen among the 
 perfumed meadows in the joy of their autumn hay- 
 harvest ; to hear the sweet Griisse from the lips of all ; to 
 gaze at the thousand-year-old church-tower of Sigriswyl 
 and look across at the glistening tower of Schloss Spiez ! 
 Interlaken is beautiful always; and Luzern, albeit too 
 crowded, can never lose its charm. It was Sisikcju, on 
 the Urnersee, that I delighted in most, of new ]daces, at 
 the end of my Swiss visit: a little village at the mouth 
 of a narrow valley, and on the Axenstrassc There are 
 pleasant old-fashioned inns, with no i^seudo-splendour ; the 
 view is magnificent ; and one feels that he is seeing sonu - 
 thing of the people as they are, unspoiled l:)y cosmojiolitan- 
 ism, despite the express-trains that whirl through from 
 Zurich to Bellinzona so many times a day. I went to Mass 
 early in the morning at the old church by tlu' lake. It 
 was a saint's day; and after service the bear(U'd Capuchin 
 from Altdorf came out into the churchyard with some of 
 the congregation and visited certain graves, praying by 
 each and blessing those who went with him on that pious 
 errand. lie was a venerable man, with a kindly face; 
 and when he ha<l finished (all unaware that 1 had photo- 
 graphed him), he came over with a friendly salutation to 
 2:reet me. 1 ha<l rhouiiht that mv tweeds would disji'uise 
 
 '^> 
 
 mm 
 
 V<ioc#:-'V^'-iDi^" 
 
 
Lffi: 
 
 
 riWYvrzTX'^f 
 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 iiic s\itiiciriitly ; but, after two miniitfs of small-talk, he 
 beaincJ coiilidentl}', and .said, "Sie snid cin F neater, iiic/il 
 tcahr?" I acknowledged it; and the rest of our conversa- 
 tion was in Latin, until we parted with his blessing' upon 
 me and a request for niv prayers f(_)r him. It was a gotxl 
 ending. 
 
 .Vh, that inexhaustibly beautiful Switzerland! Its 
 people are kind, obliging, helpful, friendly; if indeed "the 
 stranger-industry" is chief, the Swiss hotel-keepers know 
 their business and do not rob their guests. The slanders 
 of hateful, selfish travellers, who must be always finding 
 fault and who call them hard names, are wholly unde- 
 served. And Democracy, established among the Alps, is 
 justified of her children. Switzerland, homeland of Free- 
 dom, the song well says. Esto perpetua. 
 
 
^•^^ 
 
 BACK TO THE NORTH SEA 
 
 E\'KX tliouiiii the nieJiiciahile fempus a])])r(>;ich('S, 
 determined by the date on a steamer-ticket, it is a 
 mistake to hnrry down from Switzerland to the sea hy a 
 through train, when every mile of the journey is historic 
 and much of the way is beautiful. AVhichever way one 
 chooses from Basel, intelligently seen, is a road of wonder 
 — whether through the Jura and Burgundy to Paris and 
 so to Calais or Boulogne ; or by the passes of the Vosges ; 
 or down the Rhine to Holland ; or across Alsace and Lux- ^ 
 embourg to Ostende. The more devious the l:)etter, 1 
 think, with stops all along; and I leave you to make up 
 my itinerary from '^'Cook's Continental Tivuc-Tables" — 
 if yon have nothing better to do ! 
 
 From Basel to Freiburg-im-Breisgau is half an hour 
 only ; yet how foolish to fly past, tniheeding the charms 
 of that delightful, clean, prosperous city at the gate of the 
 Black Forest ! The lovely old minster, with its open 
 spire, seen from the wooded hill that rises just back of it, 
 is a middle-age lyric in stone ; and the market-place adjoin- 
 ing, fttll of ancient buildings wonderfully fresh and bright, 
 and crowded with all the gay costumes of the Schirarz- 
 ivalderinnen, makes a worthy setting. It was a delight 
 
 V^ "u ^^cs> V socs;> V ■ 
 
 VVOCi*' V \5D=; 
 
 
 V^^CK^V^iac 
 
n 
 
 to have a place in the choir at High Mass on Sunday 
 morning, and to notice (as so generally in Germany and 
 so rarely elsewhere in churches of the Papal Obedience) 
 the heartiness of the congregation's responses, the splendid 
 volume of the singing, and the articulate reverence of the 
 clergy. Some day, I j^roj^hesy, we shall see a new Luther, 
 who will stay within the German Church instead of going 
 out, and will restore the Communion of St. Boniface and 
 St. Willilu'ord to its earlier purity of faith and apostoli- 
 city of government. German Catholics will not always 
 be slaves of the Curia, nor take their religion and their 
 politics alike from Italian monsignori. 
 
 Freiburg has beautiful environs, shady streets, delight- 
 ful parks, and a famous co-educational university, where 
 a charming Fraulein of my acquaintance studies biology 
 under Weissmann's direction and broods lovingly over the 
 miscroscopic revelations of putrefaction. There is a 
 splendid city theatre, opened recently under the all-highest 
 patronage of the Grand Duke of Baden, the local sov- 
 ereign, who lives at Karlsruhe. But the old buildings are 
 vastly more interesting; and the towers that remain from 
 the ancient encircling fortifications are better than any 
 stage setting. There are wood-walks, out into the green 
 solitudes of the forest, where all the old Teutonic mytho- 
 logy might illustrate itself. But my pleasantest memories 
 of Freiburg are of a white villa on the hillside, brightened 
 by a household of German friends ; the father a Hano- 
 verian, officer of dragoons in the Franco-Prussian war, 
 pupil of John LaFarge in New York afterwards, and 
 now architect, painter, musician, and man of the world; 
 
 
 
 
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 TTW 
 
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 BACK TO THE NORTH SEA 
 
 219 
 
 
 THE CATHEDRAL, FREIBURG 
 
 
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 220 
 
 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 the iiiotluT Iiussiaii, and sjx'aking Engiisli to a marvel; 
 two eliildren, one, the elder, my University student of 
 W(_)rnis above mentioned, the other still a sehool-j)o\- ; all 
 so simple and cordial and hospitahle that it is a delight 
 unspeakable to be with them. Such good conversation ; 
 such geniality; such appreciation of real values! And 
 then, in the twilight Ixd'ore dinner, my host sat at his piano 
 //^ and gave us the best of Jjeethoven, hushing our applause 
 ^^^ by beginning marvellous improvisations of his own that 
 were like fairy music floating down fi'om cncdianted castles 
 hidden in some bosky seclusion of the Schwarzwald and 
 awaiting discovery. I do not know any man in America 
 with such diversified gifts. .Vh, we have much to learn 
 from our German friends in almost every department — 
 theology alone, perhaps, excepted ! 
 
 Very few Americans visit Treves, for some reason ; 
 ^ and yet that ancient Roman colony, with its palace of the 
 Cciesars and the Igel column, the highest monument of 
 the sort north of the Alps, is fvdl of interest. The Porta 
 ISTigra rears its age-blackened masonry like an arch of 
 triumph over time itself. Ijut I acknowledge that the 
 early middle-age churches interest me even more, though 
 the smiling valley of the Moselle, with its vineyards, 
 orchards, and flowery farmsteads, is better yet. The old 
 Cathedral, combining architecture of many periods and 
 still reminiscent of the days when a Prince-Bishop reigned 
 in empurpled state, with sword as well as crosier in his 
 hand, is the best, though something remains of an early 
 Christian l)asilica much older. I wonder why German 
 cities are so much cleaner than ours, and more orderlv 
 
 c;>"-J- <iOCii!- V 
 
 fffi^P2^^it(li^ 
 
 
 .-^ 
 
 
every way. If that is the result of "bureaucracy," it 
 might be well for us to import a few Prussian bureaucrats 
 to show us how — unless that ever-lauded j)rotective tariff 
 could be invoked, then as at so many other times, to shield 
 slovenly incompetence and selfishness from 
 rivalrv! 
 
 foreign 
 
 THE CATHEDRAL, TREVES. 
 
 IT 
 
 It is only a short journey from Treves across the 
 border into that lovely land of romance, the Duchy of 
 Arden in Shakespeare, to which a fairer maid than even 
 Rosalind is heiress (Pray God the greedy, covetous, land- 
 grabbing Powers do not make her heritage one of name 
 only). Luxembourg, of course, I mean, as you nnist 
 know who have visited Vianden with me in other years 
 and climbed up to the mighty ruin of the Oranienburg, 
 cradle of Orange-N^assau. And here is the picture of the 
 
 W^^3''^''^^v^ 
 
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 TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 Y;^^'' 
 
 '^rv\/\A/y^ 
 
 gentle, gracious Marie Adelaide, lier own gift, in whom 
 the blood of ISTassau, Stuart, and Braganza blends : worthy 
 descendant of the Blessed Martyr-King of England, to 
 whom must fall the grand-ducal crown of independent 
 sovereignty some day — unless the incredible wickedness of 
 diplomacy carries out its whispered purpose and, taking 
 the Congo from Belgium, offers Luxembourg to Belgium 
 by way of "a compensation." An old way to pay new 
 debts, surely ; but they used to call it "compounding a 
 felony" instead of W elt-P olit'ik ! 
 
 What a wonderful old city is Luxembourg itself ! On 
 a cliff, at the junction of two rivers, it is not uidike 
 Fribourg in situation ; but its remaining gates and towers 
 are more picturesque than aught the Swiss town has to 
 show, and the modest palace in the midst gives the touch 
 of chivalrous romance so often associated with tiny states 
 that have kept their freedom. Woe to the civilization that 
 blots out all the little lands to enrich the great ones ! 
 Bigness is a dubious blessing: I would rather have Mon- 
 tenegro than Siberia — even though Monaco does not have 
 the same hold upon a freeman's imagination ! 
 
 From Luxembourg by Trois Vierges to Liege is to 
 see the best of the Ardennes country, still largely wooded, 
 with ruined castles on every hilltop, and now and then a 
 blast-furnace or foundry in the valley. At Liege not much 
 is left of "Quentin Durward" days : it is rather the centre 
 of Belgian Socialism and iron-manufacturing, with a great 
 university and a few fine old churches, but too largely 
 modelled on modern Paris. One hears the unfamiliar 
 Walloon s]K^ech more commonly there than elsewhere in 
 
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 BACK TO THE NORTH SEA 
 
 H. R. H. MARIE ADELAIDE, 
 GRAND DUCHESS OF LUXEMBOURCx. 
 
 223 
 
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 ICf' V^0:t''1,-"-4SCrf^V 
 
Belgimii. A yteauil)oat ( to descri])e which the term petite 
 vitesse must surely have been invented) creeps down the 
 Maas from Liege to Maastricht, under hanging shaws, 
 through placid stretches of canal, past quintessentially 
 mediaeval villages where the shadow of the chateau falls 
 
 across the market-place, and 
 the church carillon tinkles 
 old-world melodies a little 
 out of tune, until at last the 
 Dutch frontier is crossed, 
 and ]\raastricht, dirtiest 
 of Dutch cities, attained. 
 Suiall reason for lingering 
 there, with Zeeland only a 
 few hours away ! 
 
 How good to be back 
 once more in Walclieren ! 
 "In the world there is 
 nothing groat but man," — 
 Sir Williaui Hamilton's 
 proud a]io])hthegm sur- 
 vives in my memory from 
 philos(»j)liy lectures "on the 
 Hill" twenty years ago; 
 "in nuin there is nothing 
 great but mind." Pass the latter half: by the rule of the 
 former even the Dolomites are inferior to my darling 
 Kathje, milking the black-and-white cow with eager fin- 
 gers that my lunche(in may not lack its wonted drink ; and 
 the ^latterhorn sliriiiks iuto insioniticance beside the thri'e 
 
 THREE WALCIIEREX GRACES. 
 
<:^''i?^<i^V^>» 
 
tiny sisters Wilhelmina, Martina, and Christina, the oldest 
 only ten, who wait for nie in beaming beatitude by Ter 
 Hooge's green shade. I love the mountains ; but these 
 sturdy dwellers by dyke and dune are as truly semper 
 llheri as any mountaineer of them all, and the wonderful 
 wide-s]n'('ading landscape, under a sky of pearl and sap- 
 
 KATIIJE, MILKliS'G. 
 
 phire, has a witchery all its own, that not even Tirol can 
 surpass. 
 
 Veere was like home ; and two months' absence made 
 the heart grow fonder on both sides, apparently. I walked 
 out the Veersche Weg from Middelburg, Buehsach on my 
 back and joy in my heart, the autumnal sun transmuting 
 even the stubble-fields, and making the beeches radiant 
 with a glory exceeding that which clothed them in the 
 spring. Every one had a greeting for De Ainer'ikaanselie 
 IJomiiir — no unfamiliar tiiiure after six or seven visits! — 
 
 
'iWMM^M^MMUI^MU.. 
 
 BACK TO THE NORTH SEA 
 
 227 
 
 
 
 aud, (jiiec Zaudvk was ruaclied, the rest of the jouniev 
 was like a "jjrogress/' with bright-faced children on -all 
 sides clinging to iingers, stick, coat-skirt. Later, as I sat 
 peacefully in the front window of De IIuop, I heard mv 
 own name pronounced in familiar New England accents, 
 and was discovered by three clients of The Living 
 ('nuRCH wdio had come exploring Veere, moved thereto, 
 they declared, by its jn'aises they had read in these 
 columns heretofore. I felt the responsiliility ; but they 
 were not disappointed, I assure you ! 
 
 But the best of friends must part, alas ! If only one 
 could claim that power attributed to certain saints of 
 later legends, bi-locality, and be in two places at once I 
 Failing that, I said farewell to all the children and their 
 parents, feasted my eyes upon the fields and the wind- 
 mills, the quaint costumes and the sweet faces that 
 crowned them, sat once more upon the roof of the Toren. 
 with Cornelia van Wallenburg for companion — she had 
 walked three miles that morning, in all the bravery of 
 her l-erk-l-leer, to make her adieux — and set my face 
 toward Flushing, the Prinscs Jiihiiiia. and Folkestone, 
 across the Xorth Sea. 
 
 ;./^ 
 
 c;>r- 
 
 
 ^oa*' -J -ocs^ 
 
XYI. 
 
 GOOD OLD ENGLAND 
 
 WHAT is lovelier than a bright nioriiing in England '. 
 The soft radiance of the snn, attempered by the 
 moist island air, the tang of soft-coal smoke in the breeze, 
 the pleasant English voices, the sqnare-towered chnrches 
 that sjjeak of Motherland, the splendid roads inviting to 
 a<l\'('ntnre, the paths across fields and throngh woodland, 
 with hospitable stiles, the flower-faced children that are 
 liest of all: I forgot Walcheren and Arden, Tirol and 
 Breisgati and Tessin, Salzbnrg and Wienerwald, not in 
 disloyalty, but in the overwli(dniing delight of an incnralde 
 AnglojDhilism. The chalk cliffs above the Warren shone 
 in the morning light ; the wind roistered merrily along 
 the Leas, that splendid promenade above Folkestone 
 Harl>onr from Avhieh one sometimes catches a glimpse of 
 Bonlogne ; and all the voices of the day said, ''Good old 
 England !" 
 
 Folkestone is irremediably snmg and hourr/eoisc, with 
 its stucco villas, staring hotels, and alisnrdly named ])oard- 
 ing-honses ; Imt southward, within walking distance, or 
 reached l>y a delightfully droll horse-tram with unroofed, 
 open cars, lie Sandgate and Tlythe, which are better. 
 Under the cliffs, just whei-c Sandgate begins, is a low. 
 
 :^ 
 

 
 f 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 -oc^-^ 
 
 GOOD OLD ENGLAND 
 
 229 
 
 red brick house whose lawn goes down To the shiuglv 
 shore. "( Armani ur," they call it ; and the girls who live 
 there affirm that it is the verv l)est school in England. 
 I can't answer for that, because I know only one ])U])il 
 there: bnt if e.r una clisrc oiiines holds, I believe they are 
 riulit. I have been ])resented to the Ai'chbishop of Canter- 
 
 A iiEirrr'ORDyiiiKK j.a.xk. 
 
 :ipn 
 
 bury, the King, and \arious other notables in England; 
 bnt if my fairy godmother should give me a magic carpet 
 and offer to let me fetch across the sea the one English 
 acquaintance I should most like to have for my guest. 
 His Grace and His Majesty w^oidd be forgotten in my 
 eagerness to welcome iif teen-year-old Knid. 
 
 Enid is still a child, with a o^eat mass of brown hair 
 
 ff'TlTv^)\l'TS:{\'Yt'~J-r-f 
 
 r. c^ V ^^ <^ ' V ^"s= 
 
 
 ^" 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 eiirliiig over her shoulders, and iiiiioceiit l)i'(>\\'ii eves that 
 h:>ok wondei'inglv out n})()ii the world, or brighten with 
 delight as thej welcome a friend. Bnt she loves all 
 beantiful things intelligently, in art and literature and 
 nature, as befits the great-grand-danghter of a famous 
 painter and the daughter of William Morris' intimate 
 friend; she sketehes (piite marvellonslv ; she writes letters 
 that are hits of her own persoiuility ; and, whether she is 
 at home in Hertfordshire or at school in Kent, she is un- 
 mixed delight. 
 
 Further on, at Ilythe, Marie lives over her father's 
 little shop: every bit as dainty and modest and sweet as 
 Knid, and very near her — in my heart, whatever social 
 chasm ]nay separate them elsewhere. ( d'o be frank with 
 you, I came back by night and Folkeston(% rather than by 
 day and Queenboro', just to see them!) 
 
 What a contrast ])etween the breezy, open s|)aces of 
 the Cinque Ports and midmost London's central I'oar I 
 Vet even London seemed homely and familiar with a 
 sort of welcoming heartiness; and 1 settled down for the 
 last week of my holiday with a comfortable feeling of 
 being once more chez nioi, such as no other great cit\- 
 that side of the Atlantic can gi\'e. I'here are lodgings, 
 and lodgings. Those dingy, doleful establishments in 
 l>l(K)msbnrv, which advertise themselves as "homes from 
 home" (whatever that may mean), are beyond words. 
 r)Ut when a solitary traveller can drop into bachelor (|uar- 
 ters such as [ found just otf Piccadilly, he nuvy thank 
 St. Ra])hael, ])atrou of tra\'ellei's, and reckon all hotels- 
 
 

 Mm' 
 
 ^^c 
 
 m- 
 
 
 
 W<£ 
 
 GOOD OLD ENGLAND 
 
 well lost. Evervthing as clean as London smoke will 
 allow, and with a ])leasant air of domesticity abont it; no 
 intrusive service, hut just what a particnlarly good valet 
 would render at a conntrj-bonse — I believe the proprietor 
 had been a gentleman's servant before he leased this 
 house; an admii'able breakfast served in one's own sittiug- 
 
 TllE KAIJAIJIOUSK, 1.ITTLEA[()1JE. 
 
 room, with the morning ])a])er (nicelv selected for your 
 supposed taste) spread out before the lire to dry; and 
 sweet solitude in the very centre of the rushing world- 
 ca]>ital. I have written "7 ( ^harles St." dee]^ uixni the 
 tablets of my memory, for futui'e reference. 
 
 It is another sort of region that lies far to the north- 
 east, around St. (V)lumba's, Haggerston. The probleui 
 (jf poverty, with all it means of over-cn-owding, under- 
 
 
 m 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 iV'cdiiig, wrotclied lioiisiiii;', and sijualor, is foniui in al 
 great cities; but surely nowhere is it so vast and tcrril)lc 
 as in London. In onr American slums there is a ])an(j- 
 rama of colour flaunting itself among the polyglot crowd, 
 or a sort of tierce hopefulness which sets its teeth and 
 res()lves to "get on" somehow. There, by contrast, all is 
 gray and ho})eless. The countless little streets lined with 
 low houses of one pattern, all of dirt)' yellow brick, are 
 like the endless recurrences of a nightmare; and the faces 
 that pass in the fog are dream-faces, diflerent from those 
 we associate with life and usefulness. 1 had seen much 
 of the C^hurch's beneflcent WM:)rk in the East End, at St. 
 Savi(uir's, Poplar, where dear Dolling died, St. xVugus- 
 tine's. Stepney, St. looter's, London Docks, forever hal- 
 lowed by the name of Lowder, and other citadels of a mili- 
 tant Catholicity, where the despised "llitualists" were 
 grap])ling with misery and hunger and sin before evei' Air. 
 Begbie's Dissenters had discovered that the East End ex- 
 isted. But St. Columba's was new to me; and 1 joyed 
 in it. l!\o coni])romise there, of cowardice misnamed ex- 
 joediency ; no paltering with vital truths ; no half-way 
 measures; but, instead, among the warrens of the ])oorest 
 and the dens of the criminal, a s])lendid shrine with a 
 Avelcome for all God's children, where daily the ]n'evailing 
 Sacrifice is offered and the gracious ministry of reconcilia- 
 tion pours oil and wine into the wounds of sin. Eussy 
 secular philanthrojiy seems cold and lifeless in com])arison 
 with the good-will that aninuites such a centre as St. 
 (^)lund)a's; and the good vicar and his fellow-priests are 
 worth a reeiment of social settlers. 
 
 
 
t^' %/ ■^4:^' tF^isgi^Stt*' V '^53Sr:<J4' 
 
 GOOD OLD ENGLAND 
 
 ]\IoiisigTior Benson, with the nnfailing aci'ini(»ny of the 
 renegade, does his worst (in No)ie Oilier Gods) to ponr 
 scorn npon the slnm worlc of the Chnrch of England ; and 
 there is a hateful picture of his etching in the book just 
 named, Avhieh shows a young priest living in a pleasant 
 room, as if he were a monster of futility just because his 
 room is jileasant ! There is a reasonable a(TK7;o-ts, and 
 
 the ex-priest of our own, once , 
 a Religious, who entertained 
 theological students at dinner 
 last sunnner, and expressed 
 surprise when they refused to 
 join him in the cocktails at 
 the beginning of the meal and 
 ^ . * ^^ the cigarettes at its end which 
 
 Hf -"-^ ^KL ^^^^ ^^^^^^ environment provided, 
 
 had need to learn something 
 from his old instructors. But 
 the man who is to do good work 
 ill the slums must fortify him- 
 self if he is to endure the 
 strain; and I recall with de- 
 light the tiny house on Har- 
 man street, close by St. Coluni- 
 ba's, where two of the curates have brought something of 
 Oxford atmosphere into Haggerston. Luxury, of course, 
 was absent, as it should always be from Christian homes ; 
 but there were good pictures, books overflowing the shelves, 
 easy chairs, a telephone (not so common a convenience as 
 with us), a bright tire, and a beaming "buttons" who 
 
 A KEXTISII MAID. 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 "^WMMmwrnm^ 
 
 ^jfrnm^"^'- 
 
 xU^ filled many offices, all with equal eheerfuliiess and skill. 
 
 ^ - One seldom hears Ijetter talk than that hospitable bachelor 
 
 ^^^ establishment atl'orded; and I blessed a happj meeting 
 
 at Caldey two years before, which had opened such doors 
 
 to me. 
 
 JSTothing is harder to kill than a poor joke: ])S('udo- 
 humorists for li'enerations to come will cackle foolishlv 
 
 
 
 
 ADDISON S WALK, OXFOED. 
 
 mm 
 
 M^ 
 
 about )iiothers-in-la\v, forgetting that their other name is 
 "Grandmother" ; will chuckle over drunkenness as if it 
 had never been declared that no drunkard can inherit the 
 Kingdom of Heaven ; and will foster the delusion that 
 curates are effeminate young men, fit for nothing really 
 masculine and useful, who like to wear clerical clothes and 
 who always talk like vapid idiots. Even Punch clings 
 to that ex])loded idea; while Life, like some other organs 
 
 
5'^V'^c^"'tr^'^<N:^V'^cii^V^^7\5^cs^V 
 
 GOOD OLD ENGLAND 
 
 235 
 
 
 ^■^r^ 
 
 
 of irreligion, revels in it. I slKtnM like t(> eDiiipHre the 
 average junior officer of the army or navy, the average 
 newly admitted lawyer, the average broker's clerk, or the 
 average dawdler, with the average young priest of the 
 Church of England or the American Church : so far as 
 intellect, savoir-faire, and physique go, the clergy need 
 have no fear, I think. A rather vulgar politician, some 
 years ago, at a gathering of American Churchmen, shriv- 
 elled visibly when, after having alleged "the number of 
 weaklings in the ministry" as a reason for men's not going 
 to church, a gigantic IS^ew York rector offered himself and 
 a dozen other six-foot priests then present, whose minds 
 were not disproportionately feeble, as illustrations I 
 
 
 
 mi 
 
 
 There was a day of joy with Allison, exploring Hert- 
 fordshire lanes, visiting the old flint church at Stevenage, 
 picking the last roses in the garden, and thanking heaven 
 for such companionship. And another little visit to Ox- 
 ford, always more l)eautiful, "that sweet city with her 
 dreaming spires," which must be dear to every thoughtful 
 man who speaks the English tongue. How lovely looked 
 St. Mary's Porch, with its twisted columns and Our Lady 
 looking down from the niche where blessed William Laud's 
 piety had placed her ! What ghostly footsteps echoed 
 along Addison's AValk ! How incomparably exquisite the 
 college gardens, Xew above all! And what seraphic har- 
 mony smote the eye as it fell upon Magdalen Tower ! The 
 old mill at Ttiley is gone, alas! but the glorious ^N'orman 
 church still rewai-ds the wayfarer who turns aside to pray 
 
within its walls, though its twelfth-century tower is in 
 sad need of repair. (The vicar wishes nie to say that 
 £400 is required, and that he hopes some of the many 
 American visitors will help him to raise that sura.) It 
 
 was good to cross the 
 fields from Iffley to 
 Littlemore, where poor 
 Xewman's last days at 
 Home were passed ; 
 l)ut the hospitable old 
 farndiouse where the 
 school - master -church- 
 warden lives is now 
 more interesting than 
 Xewman's cottage- 
 
 monastery. 
 
 I wa]k(Ml out to 
 (Jumnor, in the teeth 
 of an Octol)er gale, 
 the cloud-shadows rac- 
 ing over the low hills 
 to keep me company. 
 It -was Harvest Home 
 that Sunday, and the 
 little church was 
 adorned with the fruits of the earth in the rather grotesque 
 fashion not uncommon at that season. Queen Elizabeth's 
 ethgy stared su])eriorly at festoons of carrots and pyramids 
 of apples, and Anthony Foster's flattering epitaph pre- 
 sided above all, (piite as if KenUirorfh had never been 
 
 J.AUl) S POKCn, ST. MAKY Til E 
 
 virgin's, oxford. 
 
 TOA-T^ 
 
 -Civ 
 
 'o'3''''^%:,y'^J'<^'^^^^^^^^7'^S^'^^ 
 
 
GOOD OLD ENGLAND 
 
 written. But the bleak wind searched every cranny 
 and Matins not being a service of obligation, I knew 
 I should l)e warmer walking back by Osney than assist- 
 ing at wdiat is sometimes called "High Wicked Man."" 
 How the "Scholar Gij^sy'" haunts one everywhere around 
 Oxford ! When Matthew Arnold's chill and donnish 
 deism is quite forgotten, that poem will be remendjered 
 and loved. I read it aloud on the deck of the 
 LiaeUc last summer to a friend who loved it though 
 ignorant of Oxford ; and the delight doubled as we 
 shared it. 
 
 It was too cold for that journey, which, more than any 
 other, opens magic casements into the England of dreams : 
 I mean that by the little steamer from Oxford down to 
 Henley and ou, the next day, to Richmond. But I made 
 up for it by some literary pilgrimages in London itself : 
 that to the great w^ater-tower on i^^otting Hill being the 
 only one here mentioned, for the sake of Chesterton. 
 There was a memorable evening at St. Edward's House, 
 Westminster, with Father Puller and Father Longridge ; 
 and another, equally enjoyable, in a tiny model tenement 
 not far away with friends of another sort. (How silly 
 ]ieople are who brag of knowing only one "class" 1 As 
 well profess a liking for roses wdth a purpose never to 
 enjoy the perfume of lilacs or daffodils.) 
 
 But the week waned to its end too soon ! Then came a 
 flying journey across England to Liverpool ; a farewell 
 frolic wdth the two dearest youngsters in Lancashire, by 
 the l)anks of Mersey far aliove the city's grime and roar : 
 and, at last, the miohtv new Cunarder whistled its adieux 
 
 mu 
 
 §^ 
 
TRAVEL PICTURES 
 
 as we tiir]i<'(| wcsr\var(l towards the Laud of Oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 The home ward journey is never so interesting as that 
 when one is outward bound. Everyone is a little tired, 
 and wishes t':> pass in silent review the memories of the 
 summer, rather than to make new acquaintances or to keep 
 up the strain of serious conversation. But the voyage was 
 over before we realized that it had begun; the familiar 
 harl;)our opened its arms affectionately ; a sky bluer and 
 brighter than Italy's shone above us; aud the wclldovcd 
 faces smiled a welcome to travelers returued. 
 
 "East and West, 
 Home is best." 
 
 So this second series of "Travel-Pictures" conies to 
 its conclusion, recording the impressions of a wandering 
 priest in the sunnner of 1911. If you have been led to 
 wider sympathy and readier friendliness with all men, 
 of whatever race or condition, by seeiug with his eyes 
 something of the beauty of the old worbl, something of 
 the goodness that is always found in human nature, he 
 will not have failed altogether in his purpose. 
 
 Hereafter, it may be, we shall travel together else- 
 where ; perhaps by ISTorwegian fiords, across Swedish 
 lakes, along the Baltic, or among the high ridges of the 
 Balkans ; we may visit the little states of which I have 
 read so long, Andorra, San Marino, Moresnet ; or, more 
 probably we shall find oin-selves again wandering hand 
 in hand with Wilhclmina, Allison, Yvonne, Marianna, 
 Bianca, Angele and the other little friends whom you 
 
 m 
 
 '^j^. 
 
 "M 
 
 Ki^^?^^SvS3^?^c^'l==^tsr-.5v^ 
 
 ''V*Sc5's.?"^5^^l?^(^^"l-^'^'2^H/'^c 
 
^>"^ 
 
 GOOD OLD ENGLAND 
 
 rrr 
 
 239 
 
 know too. That will appear in God's time. Meanwhile, 
 gentle readers, say a prayer for your guide through those 
 pleasant regions, and for all the friends he loves that in- 
 habit them. 
 
 
 
 
 FINIS 
 
 "IS. -^^ 
 
 v'^ 
 
IBRARY OF CONGRESS