We now bid "au revoir" to Paris, and cross the English channel, from Calais to Dover, without any great inconvenience. And mighty Neptune did not call on us for many returns of the day. We proceed from Charing Cross station to the hotel of the same name, where we remain until we obtain more pleasant surroundings in the west end of London. Daily excursions, always on top of omnibuses, when there were seats for us, run to the Picadilly, Pall Mall, down Regent and Oxford streets and into Dickens' haunts, when time afforded, out to St. John's Woods, and without fail to Kensington, to the Museum, which is most absorbing of time and interest. We take carriages and drive through Carleton terrace and through streets where the city homes of the royalty are located. To drive in Hyde Park or Rotten Row, with a crest on your carriage door, would be fine, but as we had left our crests at home we were denied many of those privileges. I recall here with pleasure an opportunity that was afforded my daughter and myself, in 1881, while on a visit to Kensington. While wandering in the vicinity of Albert Hall, we were attracted by crowds of people gathering roundabout its doors. On inquiry we learned a bazaar was in progress therein for the benefit of some London hospital. By paying the admittance fee of one pound each ($5.00) we could enter, where we could see royalty, each person of note in his or her booth with the name attached. "Maidens like moths are caught by glare," and we were soon in regal atmosphere. Here were ladies of high degree, dressed in Queen Anne's style, who had been brought thither by lackeys in sedan chairs of that ancient class. Most marvelous was the display of jewels which met our bewildering gaze, and these high-born ladies, with their pretty feet and high insteps, delicately formed hands and tapering fingers, gave evidence of good blood. We were approached by these noble men and women, soliciting us to take chances in prizes that were to be raffled off, but we declined for two reasons. In the first place, we could not see how we could accommodate in our steamer trunks the huge Chinese umbrella, under whose shade at least fifty people or more could find shelter at a garden party, and the greater reason why we did not invest was that our entrance fee was quite enough for the good cause. However, we felt ourselves most favored at this extraordinary opportunity of witnessing the gentle manners, and hearing the musical intonation of voice that marks good birth.

On Sunday afternoon we went in search, in the east end of London, for the "Palace of Delight," and its surroundings. We took the tramway and inquired of a demure, missionary-looking lady, the way to the most degraded quarters. She replied: "You are in that region now," and having no male escort, we were not particularly over-confident of our position. The streets were swarming with children; some fairly well clad, others ragged and soiled. Groups of men and women, many in Sunday attire, others whose habiliments were evidences of great want and poverty. But few were hilarious. On the contrary, serious countenances betrayed earnest conversation between and by these groups of people. We encountered no special exhibition of degradation; but upon the women's faces we detected the marks of toil and care, and in many of their offspring, idiotic, expressionless faces. Woman's work among women may bring in God's own good time a fulfillment of things hoped for. Again, I recall a scene I witnessed in 1881. We were inmates of Mr. Burr's hotel, as he termed it. Among his guests were people of some distinction. Mrs. Mary Livermore, of Massachusetts, was in this category. She had been sent over by her state or the city of Boston, to investigate the "Coffee Houses" of London, and Mr. Burr was known as a philanthropist in that city. Preparations were made to see London by gas light, and I was among the few invited to go with Mrs. Livermore. Two carriages were provided for the party, and each held besides four occupants, a seat either for Mr. Burr or his son, with the respective coachmen. We drove to the station and then took the steam cars to "Wandsworth," a short distance from London. On disembarking we walked to one of the public resorts known as a "Coffee House," where light refreshments, with tea, coffee and chocolate are offered at a trifling price; also a bottled drink labelled Ozone, which had no intoxicating influence. These institutions were for the congregating of the laboring classes, where they might spend an hour or so in discussing the news of the day, or in social intercourse, where no intoxicating beverages could be obtained, and which served to entertain and keep them off the streets or from dens of infamy. Here husband and wife, with clean hands and faces, and perhaps sweethearts for aught we knew, were apparently happy in this hour of recreation. Mrs. Livermore was asked to speak to that body of people, and her satellites drew close around her, not knowing how she would be received. Suffice to say that motherly face drew the attention of all, and the appeals she made to men and women present drew many a tear from the female portion, and to suppress an emotion, an apologetic cough issued from rough exteriors. We retraced our steps to London and there our carriages awaited us. We were driven to the "Seven Dials," and worse places, if possible, where we were subjected to jeers and penetrating glances into our carriage by the passers-by. Across these streets were hung clothes lines and under the glare of electric or gas lights could be inspected the second-handed garments that were hung thereon. Markets, whose stale and unhealthy condition revealed itself to our sensitive nostrils, and we were glad to turn away from this unkempt crowd to a theatre in close proximity, whose doors were thrown open early to those who could afford a penny or more to enter. On the stage was a young girl, dressed in clean apparel. A check apron gathered at her neck and fell nearly to the tops of her shoes. She was amusing the audience with a dance they called a "hoe down." She kept time to the music by the clatter of slip-shod shoes. Then some "Punch and Judy" exhibition followed, and refreshments similar to those we saw at Wandsworth, were passed around, from which the hungry could appease their hunger, and with the tea and coffee, their thirst was satisfied for a mere trifle.

Thus the hours wore away which might have otherwise been spent, and would have rendered these people unfit for the next day's work. By ten o'clock all was over, and a very orderly crowd dispersed, we will hope, to their homes. The theaters in London are well patronized. I saw among other plays the "Prisoner of Zenda," and realized fully that to wear the court train, and handle it, and yourself gracefully must be to wear it often. The boxes are well patronized by coroneted women. I saw no one who struck me as being to the manor born. The universal law of removing all head covering is most strictly observed. The average appearance of the English woman does not compare with dainty, well-gowned French woman, but neither English nor French rival the American woman, when she starts out to please. No one visits London for the first time without seeing the tower, with its grewsome walls and its regal splendor of the crown jewels. The national and royal academies claim many hours, and to visit the churches and cathedrals one makes haste.

We were in London on Easter Sunday. We heard in his own pulpit Dr. Parker and, more than that, his wife, now deceased, stood on the left of the pulpit. Before the sermon by her husband, she appealed to the women of London, as well as the women of every nation, to spare the birds, and repeated several verses of her own composition in their behalf.

We fully intended to visit the cathedral towns of England, but sickness of one of our party, deprived us of that privilege, and after a lot of shopping, and more sight-seeing, we spent one day at Windsor, and saw the Eton College grounds. Not far away, but in sight, I believe, of Windsor Castle, is "Stoke Pogis," made memorable by "Gray's Elegy."

Her majesty, the queen, was not at home. We were shown one room in particular, which has been thrown open to the public since my visit there in 1881; that was, the one containing the "jubilee gifts of 1897," when hearts and hands must have been emptied in making these royal presents. The treasures of India were there, those of Afric's sunny shores, and from every nation and every tribe that acknowledged Victoria. Queen and empress, each and all, poured forth their trophies at her feet. Her stables were shown us, well stocked with thoroughbred steeds from far off Arabia and the Shetland Isles.

"Time and tide waits for no man," and we are booked for the "Augusta Victoria," that sails April——, 1896. Some love to roam, but I like it better when I am nearer home. Our trip across the Atlantic is not what we hoped for, and a choppy sea with an occasional swell made us feel uncomfortable. I had the pleasure in Paris of making the acquaintance of a gentleman, wife and young lady daughter, who invited me to return to America in their company, and seldom, if ever, has it been my lot to have my lines cast among more delightful people than they and, although our homes are far apart, my heart often goes out to them.

When our own home port is sighted and the sensation the appearance of a custom-house officer always creates is over, and the welcome "O. K." is visible on our luggage, we feel like taking off our chapeau to "Liberty Enlightening the World."

It is midnight when we land on the Jersey shore, and the gallant captain, no less courteous on land than on sea, bids us return to our cabins and rest, when we have obeyed our country's mandate, the custom house officer.

A hasty breakfast and a few good-byes are spoken, and my heart swells within me, as I spring from the gang-plank to the shore, and the lines

seem to express all and more than all that I could say.

A short stay of a few hours in New York, and an uneventful trip on the New York Central Railroad brought me into Chicago, where those nearest and dearest to me were in waiting to bid me welcome home. And now in closing, my dear children, I will say: "That if the work I have done in leaving you these impressions and footprints, gives the pleasure hoped for, I will feel compensated, notwithstanding I have labored when the flesh was weak and my vision clouded. When you have reached my age (sixty-three), when youth and vigor are not in their fulness, this work of love may then be appreciated."

Your Grandmother,
ELEONORA HUNT.

Nov. 20, 1897.