I cared quite as much about renewing old impressions as about: getting new ones. I could not help comparing some of the ancient cathedrals and abbey churches to so many old cheeses. Everybody knows that secrete crossword answers. Oliver Wendell Holmes. The Derby has always been the one event in the racing year which statesmen, philosophers, poets, essayists, and littérateurs desire to see once in their lives. He lies in Westminster Abbey, it is true, but he would probably have preferred the upper side of his own hearth-stone to the under side of the slab which covers him. After dinner came a grand reception, most interesting but fatiguing to persons hardly as yet in good condition for social service.
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London is a nation of something like four millions of inhabitants, and one does not feel easy without he has an assured place of shelter. Among other curiosities a portfolio of drawings illustrating Keeley's motor, which, up to this time, has manifested a remarkably powerful vis inertiœ, but which promises miracles. It was felt like an odor within the sense. You are a Christian prince, anyhow, I said to myself, if I may judge by your manners. I did not take this as serious advice, but its meaning is that one who has all his senses about him cannot help being anxious. In the brief account of my first visit to England, more than half a century ago, I mentioned the fact that I want to the famous Derby race at Epsom. She was installed in the little room intended for her, and began the work of accepting with pleasure and regretting our inability, of acknowledging the receipt of books, flowers, and other objects, and being very sorry that we could not subscribe to this good object and attend that meeting in behalf of a deserving charity, — in short, writing almost everything for us except autographs, which I can warrant were always genuine. I am disappointed in the trees, so far; I have not seen one large tree as yet. Everybody knows that secrete crosswords. Thy element's below. To be sure, the poor wretches in the picture were on a raft, but to think of fifty people in one of these open boats! No roosting-place for our little flock of three. 17 Dover Street, Mackellar's Hotel, where we found ourselves comfortably lodged and well cared for during the whole time we were in London.
How could I be in a fitting condition to accept the attention of my friends in Liverpool, after sitting up every night for more than a week; and how could I be in a mood for the catechizing of interviewers, without having once lain down during the whole return passage? Our wooden houses are a better kind of wigwam; the marble palaces are artificial caverns, vast, resonant, chilling, good to visit, not desirable to live in, for most of us. I had not seen Europe for more than half a century, and I had a certain longing for one more sight of the places I remembered, and others it would be a delight to look upon. In certain localities I have found myself liable to attacks of asthma, and, though I had not had one for years, I felt sure that I could not escape it if I tried to sleep in a stateroom. We got to the hotel where we had engaged quarters, at eleven o'clock in the evening of Wednesday, the 12th of May. I found it very windy and uncomfortable on the more exposed parts of the grand stand, and was glad that I had taken a shawl with me, in which I wrapped myself as if I had been on shipboard. Everybody knows that secrete crossword. It must have been the frantic cries and movements of these people that caused Gustave Doré to characterize it as a brutal scene. Breakfasts, lunches, dinners, teas, receptions with spread tables, two, three, and four deep of an evening, with receiving company at our own rooms, took up the day, so that we had very little time for common sight-seeing. It proved to be a most valued daily companion, useful at all times, never more so than when the winds were blowing hard and the ship was struggling with the waves. The horse I was about to see win was not unworthy of being named with the renowned champion of my earlier day. We wonder to which of these two impressions Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes inclined, if he went last Wednesday to Epsom! One of the most interesting parts of my visit to Eaton Hall was my tour through the stables. It was no sooner announced in the papers that I was going to England than I began to hear of preparations to welcome me.
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I see men as trees walking. " Let us go down into the cabin, where at least we shall not see them. The idea of a guarded cutting edge is an old one; I remember the " Plantagenet " razor, so called, with the comb-like row of blunt teeth, leaving just enough of the edge free to do its work. After this Awent to a musical party, dined with the V-s, and had a good time among American friends. We made our way through the fog towards Liverpool, and arrived at 1. Copyright, 1887, by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. After this all was easily arranged, and I was cared for as well as if I had been Mr. Phelps himself. The dove flew all over the habitable districts of the city, - inquired at as many as twenty houses. Near us, in the same range, were Browns' Hotel and Batt's Hotel, both widely known to the temporary residents of London. Most of the trees are of very moderate dimensions, feathered all the way up their long slender trunks, with a lopsided mop of leaves at the top, like a wig which has slipped awry. It was at the Boston Theatre, and while I was talking with them a very heavy piece of scenery came crashing down, and filled the whole place with dust. The most conspicuous object was a man on an immensely tall pair of stilts, stalking about among the crowd. I thought they might be mutes, or something of that sort, salaried to look grave and keep quiet.
I have called the record our hundred days, because I was accompanied by my daughter, without the aid of whose younger eyes and livelier memory, and especially of her faithful diary, which no fatigue or indisposition was allowed to interrupt, the whole experience would have remained in my memory as a photograph out of focus. We Americans are a little shy of confessing that any title or conventional grandeur makes an impression upon us. After the race we had a luncheon served us, a comfortable and substantial one, which was very far from unwelcome. I recall Birket Foster's Pictures of English Landscape, — a beautiful, poetical series of views, but hardly more poetical than the reality. They are not considered in place in a wellkept lawn. In the afternoon we went to our minister's to see the American ladies who had been presented at the drawing-room. I will not advertise an assortment of asthma remedies for sale, but I assure my kind friends I have had no use for any one of them since I have walked the Boston pavements, drank, not the Cochituate, but the Belmont spring water, and breathed the lusty air of my native northeasters. I had set before me at the hotel a very handsome floral harp, which my friend's friend had offered me as a tribute. I myself had few thoughts, fancies, emotions.
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I hope the reader will see why I mention these facts. Her wits have been kept bright by constant use, and as she is free of speech it requires some courage to face her. I think it probable that I had as much enjoyment in forming one of the great mob in 1834 as I did among the grandeurs in 1886, but the last is pleasanter to remember and especially to tell of. Something led me to think I was mistaken in the identity of this gentleman. Here are some of my first impressions of England as seen from the carriage and from the cars.
Lord Rsuggested that the best way would be for me to go in the special train which was to carry the Prince of Wales. From this time forward continued a perpetual round of social engagements. He had placed the Royal box at our disposal, so we invited our friends the P-s to go with us, and we all enjoyed the evening mightily. Others were sometimes absent, and sometimes came to time when they were in a very doubtful state, looking as if they were saying to themselves, with Lear, —. A few years since Mr. Gladstone was induced by Lord Granville and Lord Wolverton to run down to Epsom on the Derby day. It is a clear case of Sic(k) vos non vobis. But remembering the cuckoo song in Love's Labour Lost, " When daisies pied... do paint the meadows with delight, " it was hard to look at them as intruders. The afternoon tea is almost a necessity in London life. Scarce seemèd there to be. The seats we were to have were full, and we had to be stowed where there was any place that would hold us.