ovel, the cathedral planted
in greenness, and the clear, gray river where a boatful of scarlet
dragoons goes gliding by." Everything is a picture for her special
benefit. She "drinks in, at every sense, the sights, sounds, and smells,
and the unimaginable beauty of it all." Then the bewilderment of London,
and a whirl of people, sights, and impressions. She was received with
great distinction by the Jews, and many of the leading men among them
warmly advocated her views. But it was not alone from her own people
that she met with exceptional consideration. She had the privilege
of seeing many of the most eminent personages of the day, all of whom
honored her with special and personal regard. There was, no doubt,
something that strongly attracted people to her at this time,--the force
of her intellect at once made itself felt, while at the same time the
unaltered simplicity and modesty of her character, and her readiness and
freshness of enthusiasm, kept her still almost like a child.

She makes a flying visit to Paris, where she happens to be on the 14th
of July, the anniversary of the storming of the Bastile, and of the
beginning of the republic; she drives to Versailles, "that gorgeous
shell of royalty, where the crowd who celebrate the birth of the
republic wander freely through the halls and avenues, and into the most
sacred rooms of the king.... There are ruins on every side in Paris,"
she says; "ruins of the Commune, or the Siege, or the Revolution; it is
terrible--it seems as if the city were seared with fire and blood."

Such was Paris to her then, and she hastens back to her beloved London,
starting from there on the tour through England that has been mapped
out for her. "A Day in Surrey with William Morris," published in "The
Century Magazine," describes her visit to Merton Abbey, the old Norman
monastery, converted into a model factory by the poet-humanitarian,
who himself received her as his guest, conducted her all over the
picturesque building and garden, and explained to her his views of art
and his aims for the people.

She drives through Kent, "where the fields, valleys, and slopes are
garlanded with hops and ablaze with scarlet poppies." Then Canterbury,
Windsor, and Oxford, Stratford, Warwick, the valley of the Wye, Wells,
Exeter, and Salisbury,--cathedral after cathedral. Back to London,
and then north through York, Durham, and Edinburgh, and on the 15th of
September she sails for home. We have mere