The Newberry herald. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, 1878-09-04
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For THE HERALD.
HsROADERINI'S PARIS LET
TER.
NO. Is.

Rroadhrim Goes TravelIiug--DJon--A Miss
ing Train---Seenes by the Wayside-Eis
Dutch Experiences--Geneva and the
Donkey Chorus.
"sYou don't look we'll, Broad
brin,' said my friend Gubbs, as I
stood looking at the monkeys in
the Jardin dAcclimatisatior, about
two weeks ago; Z think a little
travel would do you good Gqbbs
was right. Nearly four months of
continuous work had made me wish
for a holiday; besides, everybody
who was anybody was departing
from Paris; so I thought I would
just take a run into Switzerland;
dash through the mountains; dive
in the Lakes; take a. peep at the
big Strasbonrg clock; float down
the Rhine; get a sniff at Cologne
see Brussels; run over to London ;
drop in at Edinburgh and Glasgow
take sight at the Highlands and
the Lochs; whip across the Chan
mel ; take in Giants Causeway and
the Lakes Of Killarney and then,
with q light heart and a lighter
pocket, return to my post at the Elk
position, and stay there contented-
ly till the curtain rang down on
the last day of October.
My preparations were brief. Gubbs
was not troubled with much bag
gage; neither was I. It is true, I
had started life in Paris, few
short months before, with a respect
able stock Of collars, handkerchiefs,
socks, shirts, and such small
gear, but the fraudulent returns OF
the average French blanchisseuse
had gradually sapped the founda-
tion of my supplies, so that What
was once considered respectable
stufing for a moderate sized valise,
was now easily disposed Of in the
pockets of my overcoat, in addition
to a small parcel improvised in the
crown of my hat.
Shaking the dust Of the Exposi-
tion from my feet, and commend
ing my foreign correspondence to
the care of the good angels-that
is, if the good angels ever have
anything to do with Our Own
Correspondents jumped on the
early train, and started for s"itzer-
land. Fontainebleau lay in my way,
so Gubbs and I got off, I was
disappointed. The appearance OF
this celebrated palace, seen from
the outside, is anything but i'm iEGa
pressiye. It has a dirty, neglected
sort of air, like place that had
been abandoned to the bats and the
owls. Once inside, however, every
thing is changed. The rooms are
furnished with a lavish magnifcence
that the eyes ache to look at. Gold,
silks, velvets, frescoes, tapestries,
paintings, carvings, statuary, mo-
saics, and costly articles OF vertu
and ornament are around you
everywhere. They are beautiful,
very beautiful ; and yet these things
were gathered together to feed the
ostentatious pomp and vanity Of a
single man, and they were wrung
from the toll, and the sweat, and the
tears, and the blood Of millions and
millions of men and women and chill
dren, through ages and ages untold.
The wicked extravaganza OF the past
told the cause Of the terrible Revo-
luton and it was with feeling o.
relief, that the progress Of the
present age had made a recurrence
of this thing impossible, that L
turned my back on the palace OF
Fontainebleau, and proceeded on
my way to the hills.
High noon brought us to the hne
old city of Dion, where a halt was
made for dinner. If I ever heard
anything in my life, I distinctly
heard the guard sing out-sForty
minutes for refreshments. It is true,
it was not in my mother Vernacu-
lar, but in substance it was plain as
a pike staff. Now forty minutes is
more than I usually allow myself
under the most favorable circum.
stances, so I sat down to that res
taurant table and called for my
Bologna and schweizer with feel
ing of beatitude rarely experienced
by travellers in foreign lands.
Several whistles blew, a number OF
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