The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1873-02-14
vet, and I assure YOU we created a sem.

sationi
l didn't want to appear proud and re-
served, though, so l entered into con-
versation with a dapper young French
man seated near me. To put him at
ease Immediately, 1 said, sociablv,
'Parly-voo Fronsy ?"
'Certainement, mademoiselle,n he
replied in a sprightly manner; and to
encourage him, proceeded:
'EnJoyeZ-yous cette beautiful matin.
monsieur ?'
"Comment?'' he responded; 'I no
eomprendre Ingleesri
"Didn't you understand what I said
to youH' ! asked; but he seemed to be
stlll more confused, and out Of pure pity
| ceased to puzzle him.
No doubt he was bashful, and my
evident acquaintance with the language
and intimate familiarity with the rules
OF fashionable life tended to perpleX him
still more.
His accent was very bad, and, on the
whole, think that Paris is about the
last place where / should go to perfect
my French.
| But whatever disappointments 1 met
with in France, were fully compensated
/ for by the lovely scenes of Switzerland.
oh, girls, you ought TO see those charm
ing lakes embedded in green, like look
ing-glasses framed in velvet, and the
cunning little cottages, and the darling
peaked hats that the peasant girls wore,
just like those that were in fashion here
| two years ago. was so sorry when
they went out of stylei
Mont Blanc is just the cunningest
mountain that ever was. You've no
| idea, and you never will have until you
see il. l send you a poem that wrote
on the occasion, and perhaps that will
show what an impression il made on
me. You'll see il is written in blank
verse; that expresses great thoughts
best:
ODE TO MONT BLANC.
Sqblimest mount thy grand and snowy head.
WI, Mhlte a the muslin OF my polonaise,
Rises afar. The gentle summer breeze,
IS SOFT and soothing as powder pun,
Makes no impression ON thy rugged brow
y mount sublime! thy dense and somber 4
Wave like green plumes on a white velvet
And over all the lovely azure Slxv.
Notified and veiled with thin and fieecy clouds. /
Bends round thee like a blue silk parasoI
Lined ii with white lace. Delightful mount, fare
Pa and ma couldn't believe that I
wrote that, but I told them | certainly |
did, for, if | didn't, who did? therefore
1 did.
don't know, on the whole, but that
the poems | wrote on the places we vis-
tied may give you better idea of them
than anything else. They were written
on the inspiration of the moment, when
the scenes were before me, and-welI. I
don't want to be vain, but
Here are some on "MoOnlight in Ven
lce." | can remember Just as we'll as
could be how everything looked that
evening. l sat on the balcony till mid
light, and 1t was so romanticl
Moonlight on the vasty deep.
And moonlight on the ocean:
Moonlight where the billOwS sleep.
And where they are in motion.
Moonlight on the waters clear.
And moonlight on the boat,
And moonlight on the gondolier
Who keeps the thing afloat.
Moonlight on the mountains high,
And moonlight on the mats;
Moonlight on the passers-by,
And moonlight on their hats
Everything described there is strictly
true, for never take advantage of poet-
ical license to NEEDLE with the facts.
] always was a martyr i'm principle.
But, girls, don't know how L shall
describe TO you my impressions of Italy.
IL IS perfectly splendid When / was a
little girl Ialways wanted to go toItaly,
because oranges grew there; and the
fond dream of my childhood has been
more than realized.
The climate is so delicious! and the
fruits-oh, who can describe them! If
one only had good sofa and plenty of
novels, Italy would be paradise!
IL was with the strongest emotion
that we approached Rome.
Oh, girls, you don't know what sud
den thoughts came over me- Iexpressed
them, as well as | could, in the follow {
ing lines:
In Tdry Tdrearyi lonely grandeur standing,
Ruined, but stately and commanding.
Ana isn't II pity?
Along the dead and barren reaches
or Ifaly'S once fertile garden
The desOlate Champagne stretches
It's vaporous marsh. Dolly Warden.
l know the last words Of it don't seem L
o chime in with the general idea, but q
ouldn't find anything else to rhvme. v
nd wasn't going to spoil the whole
'erse by leaving off the last line, merely ~
eeause it required change of subject Il
We finished Rome in about a week, y
nd since we came home have said a y
times, that no one could exag- u
crate in praising the works Of art, es-
eeially the figs.
Now l know you'll want to go to Eu- q
ope right of, and L would advise you b
,, If l supposed you would have half Of y
ar peculiar advantages in mingling n
'lth earls, dukes and other crowned \
eads; such company imparts an in 81
escrlbable elevation and refinement. "
still, don't go there unless you are y
Ire that you know enough to appre-
ate the beauties of Europe.
1t lends such a charm to Italy to re-
lember that among those groves of ,.
live the immortal Beethoven sculptured
le Medicean Venus, and Shakespeare
the sublime poem of para b.
ise Lost.n III
But, after all, don't talk much French "
Paris, for, if you do, you'll spoil your L,
entirely. VI
IL needs a good education and thor
ugh knowledge of society to enable one
appear creditably in European cir e,
es, but still it may be best for you to NJ
o. Association with the best society II
Ids so much to ones elegance. never NJ
'ould have supposed that Europe i'm n
roved one so much, or added such a
elicate polish to ones manners. and /
'ent there myself. c.
Finally, you may receive il as n max @
I'M That 1t takes travel to make one y
coDlDly eel jeu, and give a real N
rlstocratic air.-HdpcT'S Bd-dr. o'
what PITY" a friend said to me- p,
we were walking along the streets of Cc
ousy, oustllng town. l turned my u
yes toward the object which had caused
lese words, and could not help reneat-
lg them. "What pityw Pe
And this object wa bofI, uo,,- -, :.