cribed
in guide-books, pleased him more and tired him less. It can hardly be
affirmed, however, that he would have missed the set sights if he could
have done so, and no doubt he was glad, after the job was done, that he
had done it. And he was greatly helped along by the inexhaustible faith
and energy in such matters of his wife; she shrank from no enterprise,
and seemed always in precisely the right mood to appreciate whatever she
beheld. She could go day after day to a picture-gallery, and stay all
day long; she would make herself as familiar with churches, castles, and
cathedrals as she was with her own house; she would wander interminably
and delightedly about old towns and cities, or gaze with never-waning
joy upon lakes and mountains, and my father, accompanying her, was, in a
measure, recuperated and strengthened by her enthusiasm. In the end, as
is evidenced by Our Old Home and The Marble Faun, he got a good deal out
of Europe. On the other hand, he seemed to think himself justified
in avoiding persons as much as he decently might, even the most
distinguished; and if he had not been a consul, and a writer of books
that had been read, I doubt if he would have formed any acquaintances
during his foreign residence, and he would thereby have missed one of
the greatest and most enduring pleasures of memory that he took back
with him. For no one cared more for a friend, or was more stimulated and
emancipated by one, than he. It may have been that he had passed the age
of youthful buoyancy, of appetite for novelties; that he had begun to
lack initiative. "I have seen many specimens of mankind," he wrote down,
in a mood of depression, in one of his note-books, "but come to the
conclusion that there is little variety among them all." That was
scarcely a full thought, and he would never have let it pass in one
of his considered books. He made and published many other remarks
on similar subjects of quite an opposite tenor, and these more truly
represented his true feeling. But he did flag a little, once in a while,
and the deep and abiding love of England which was his final sentiment
had somewhat the appearance of having been forced upon him against his
inclination. We may surmise that he feared disappointment more than he
craved gratification.

[IMAGE: FRANCIS BANNOCH]

From Liverpool we explored the strangeness of the land in all
directions. Bennoch or Bright sometimes took off my father alone;
sometimes my father an