188 LETTER-FILES OF S. W. JOHNSON 



coffee, where conversation kept the party together for nearly 

 an hour. 



. . . The Madeleine is the only church I have been in during 

 service. Today I went with Mr. Pacheco to the Louvre. . . . 

 Here and now, as of old in Germany, I find more pleasure, 

 with few exceptions, in modern works, both paintings and 

 sculpture, than in antiques. It's very stupid, doubtless, but 

 I can't help it, and I also enjoy seeing men and women more 

 than looking at monkeys. Perhaps that argues for Darwin- 

 ianism? The galleries of the Louvre are very fine, good 

 light, warmed, most of them, the rooms themselves are often 

 more elegant and interesting than the objects they contain. 

 This morning we walked for nearly two hours through modern 

 sculpture none less than 100 years old ; paintings, from those 

 like the Jarves collection down to French work of the last 

 century, room after room; vases and small sculptures in 

 agate, quartz and semi-precious stones; and finally splendid 

 Egyptian and Assyrian monuments, sarcophagi, etc. Quite 

 instructive and very fatiguing after the second hour. 



I now think I shall move towards Italy in a few days. I 

 begin to think I should enjoy traveling and I have almost 

 decided upon a definite plan as follows: In three days one 

 of "Cook's personally conducted parties" leaves here for a 

 30 days Italian tour under the guidance of an Italian who 

 attends to all the business of the party according to a definite 

 printed programme. . . . Railroaded, coached, lodged, fed 

 and shown to all the noteworthy objects in the route, and duly 

 returned safe and sound! There are objections to this mode 

 of travel. In fact it is a humbug of the most stupidly infantile 

 and imbecile sort, but I am in just the mood for it. It gives 

 me an occupation without care. I will try it. If I thrive 

 under it, I will try travel on my own account, if not, I will 

 go home, buy a horse and carriage and a boat, and devote 

 myself to my family and my muscle. . . . 



March 14, Venice. ... I arrived at Turin at 8 o'clock. 

 There I found Mr. Giglioli at the hotel, having apprised him 



