used to fire my youthful imagination and now recalls Madame de
Stael's line on perfect happiness: "To be young! to be in love! to
be in Italy!"

Do people enjoy Europe as much now? I doubt it! It has become too
much a matter of course, a necessary part of the routine of life.
Much of the bloom is brushed from foreign scenes by descriptive
books and photographs, that St. Mark's or Mt. Blanc has become as
familiar to a child's eye as the house he lives in, and in
consequence the reality now instead of being a revelation is often
a disappointment.

In my youth, it was still an event to cross. I remember my first
voyage on the old side-wheeled SCOTIA, and Captain Judkins in a
wheeled chair, and a perpetual bad temper, being pushed about the
deck; and our delight, when the inevitable female asking him (three
days out) how far we were from land, got the answer "about a mile!"

"Indeed! How interesting! In which direction?"

"In that direction, madam," shouted the captain, pointing downward
as he turned his back to her.

If I remember, we were then thirteen days getting to Liverpool, and
made the acquaintance on board of the people with whom we travelled
during most of that winter. Imagine anyone now making an
acquaintance on board a steamer! In those simple days people
depended on the friendships made at summer hotels or boarding-
houses for their visiting list. At present, when a girl comes out,
her mother presents her to everybody she will be likely to know if