itely more than any other music can. I think
that in the jubilees & their songs America has produced the
perfectest flower of the ages; & I wish it were a foreign product,
so that she would worship it & lavish money on it & go properly
crazy over it.

Now, these countries are different: they would do all that if it
were native. It is true they praise God, but that is merely a
formality, & nothing in it; they open out their whole hearts to no
foreigner.

As the first anniversary of Susy's death drew near the tension became
very great. A gloom settled on the household, a shadow of restraint. On
the morning of the 18th Clemens went early to his study. Somewhat later
Mrs. Clemens put on her hat and wrap, and taking a small bag left the
house. The others saw her go toward the steamer-landing, but made no
inquiries as to her destination. They guessed that she would take the
little boat that touched at the various points along the lake shore.
This she did, in fact, with no particular plan as to where she would
leave it. One of the landing-places seemed quiet and inviting, and there
she went ashore, and taking a quiet room at a small inn spent the day
in reading Susy's letters. It was evening when she returned, and her
husband, lonely and anxious, was waiting for her at the landing. He
had put in the day writing the beautiful poem, "In Memoriam," a strain
lofty, tender, and dirge-like-liquidly musical, though irregular in
form.--[Now included in the Uniform Edition.]

CXCIX. WINTER IN VIENNA

They remained two months in Weggis--until toward the end of September;
thence to Vienna, by way of Innsbruck, in the Tyrol, "where the
mountains seem more approachable than in Switzerland." Clara Clemens
wished to study the piano under Leschetizky, and this would take them
to Austria for the winter. Arriving at Vienna, they settled in the Hotel
Metropole, on the banks of the Danube. Their rooms, a corner suite,
looked out on a pretty green square, the Merzimplatz, and down on the
Franz Josef quay. A little bridge crosses the river there, over which
all kinds of life are continually passing. On pleasant days Clemens
liked to stand on this bridge and watch the interesting phases of
the Austrian capital. The Vienna humorist, Poetzl, quickly formed
his acquaintance, and they sometimes stood there together. Once while
Clemens was making some notes, Poetzl interested the various passers by
asking each o