so rural and yet so metropolitan in its characteristics, where, following
fast upon the din of business and the rush of trade, steals the sweet
murmur of waters, the "wave of woods" and flow of fountains, the shaded
park and perfumed pasture.

Here, aside from the cheer of business success, my heart was gladdened by
a meeting with my old friend, Mrs. Bigelow, and little Willie, the whilom
blind boy I had met in New York city, and toward whom I had been drawn by
that "touch of nature" which "makes the whole world kin."

He was now an elegant, educated gentleman, who, among his many
accomplishments, numbered that of music, a science he had so thoroughly
mastered, and with the "concord of sweet sounds" he helped us all to while
away many an otherwise weary hour.

I visited the various places of note upon the New York Central Railway,
thoroughly and successfully canvassing all, and reaching New York city,
was received by my uncle Henry Deems with such a welcome as only a noble,
soulful man can extend. After a short, sweet respite from care, we turned
toward New England, the truly classic ground of America, every foot of
whose "sacred soil" has been trod by pilgrim feet and hallowed by their
hearts' devotion.

Went to Plymouth, Massachusetts, and spent almost an entire day at Pilgrim
Hall in researches and study of its musty and time-worn relics.

It was against the rules to open the cases containing these treasures of
the past to spectators, all of whom were forced to look at them through
doors of glass, even as the bereft ones are ofttimes allowed to look at
loved lineaments only through the lid of a closed casket; but the