and while at
Albaro the poor little fellow had a most unfortunate experience--an
encounter of some duration with a plague of fleas. Father writes:
"'Timber' has had every hair upon his body cut off because of the fleas,
and he looks like the ghost of a drowned dog come out of a pond after a
week or so. It is very awful to see him sidle into a room. He knows the
change upon him, and is always turning-round and round to look for
himself. I think he'll die of grief; it is to be hoped that the hair
will grow again."

For many years my father's public readings were an important part of his
life, and into their performance and preparation he threw the best energy
of his heart and soul, practising and rehearsing at all times and places.
The meadow near our home was a favorite place, and people passing through
the lane, not knowing who he was, or what doing, must have thought him a
madman from his reciting and gesticulation. The great success of these
readings led to many tempting offers from the United States, which, as
time went on, and we realized how much the fatigue of the readings
together with his other work were sapping his strength, we earnestly
opposed his even considering. However, after much discussion and
deliberation he wrote to me on September 28th, 1867: "As I telegraphed
after I saw you I am off to consult with Mr. Forster and Dolby together.
You shall hear either on Monday or by Monday's post from London how I
decide finally." Three days later: "You will have had my telegram that I
go to America. After a long discussion with Forster and consideration of
what is to be said on both sides, I have decided to go through with it,
and have telegraphed 'yes' to Boston." There was, at first, some talk of
my accompanying him, but when the programme of the tour was submitted to
my father and he saw how much time must be devoted to business and how
little, indeed almost no time could be given to sightseeing, this idea
was given up.

* * * * *

A farewell banquet was given him in London on the second of November, and
on the ninth he sailed. A large party of us went to Liverpool to see him
sail, and with heavy hearts to bid him farewell. In those days a journey
to America was a serious matter, and we felt in our hearts that he was
about to tax his health and strength too cruelly. And so he did.

Soon after reaching the United States, my father contracted a severe cold
which ne