Friday evening, February 1.—I spent the earliest part of the morning in my own room; then went to Lambert’s, and commenced the examination of Pursh’s plants. After dining in a simple way by myself, I went to Bentham’s, by appointment, to spend the evening in looking out duplicate plants. I found him and Mrs. B. sitting cosily together in the study. We had a cup of tea and some chat, and then fell to work until half past eleven, when I came away walking as usual by Westminster Abbey, of which I often get very good nocturnal views.

Saturday evening, February 2.... Brown has been very kind to me, in his peculiar way. I have seen him but twice since Hooker and I breakfasted with him, but I hope soon to be at work at the British Museum and to see more of him. He is very fond of gossip at his own fireside, and amused us extremely with his dry wit, but in company he is silent and reserved. I have found out also that it does not do to ask him directly any question about plants. He is, as old Menzies told us, the driest pump imaginable. But although he will not bear direct squeezing, yet by coaxing and very careful management any one he has confidence in may get a good deal out of him. He tells me that Petalanthera, Nutt., is a published genus, and promises to give me all the information about it I desire. I asked him some question about the manner in which the vessels of ferns uncoil. He at once remarked, “They unroll like a ribbon”! Quekett has been examining them, so has a botanist in India; all are much interested in them. I placed Bailey’s specimens afterwards in his hands and also some of the Infusoria, which he expressed himself much pleased with when I saw him at Lambert’s. By the way, the Infusoria were sent by Bailey himself. I delivered also the parcel for Lindley, and gave the rest I had mostly to Dr. Roget, Mr. Lyell,[66] and Francis Bauer, who were all very glad to get them. I have saved a few for Mr. Ward’s microscopical party which he is to give on Wednesday of week after next.... I shall also order, for Sullivant, Hooker’s “Icones Plantarum,” which will be continued, as Hooker furnishes all the matter for nothing and gives the plates, finding paper and everything. Although there is not so much detail as I could wish, yet it is becoming a very valuable collection for a student of natural orders....

Monday evening.—I have seen the original Taxus nucifera, of Thunberg, both leaves and fruit. Arnott should have paid more attention to it. It is very like Torreya! and doubtless a congener,—and so Brown insinuates. I will see more about it soon. A new edition of Lindley’s “Introduction to Botany” is preparing! Sullivant wants, I suppose, a microscope of single lenses—a good working instrument—and an achromatic. This last I think I shall procure for him in London, where they produce more perfect instruments than the French. Can you send Bentham the Lindernias? He wishes much to examine them; send good corollas.

Arnott seems to think much more of Nees von Esenbeck than anybody else. It is generally thought he is in his dotage, and a sad, very sad splitter of straws....

I had some thoughts of going to Paris via Leyden, to see if I can coax anything out of Blume, but he seems to have behaved rather strangely to all the English botanists I have yet met with. You ask whom I liked best in Scotland: Hooker is all in all!

A new Antarctic expedition is planned; indeed is settled upon nearly, to be commanded by James Ross. But a part of the administration throw difficulties in the way. If it goes Joseph Hooker is to be the naturalist.... By the way, Corda’s “Memoir on Impregnation of Plants” turns out to be mere humbug, and it seems there is little dependence to be placed upon him....

Tell Bailey I am every day getting information that will be valuable to him, in the microscopical way. I have a new correspondent for him, Mr. Edwin J. Quekett,[67] 50 Wellclose Square, London, an excellent microscopist. I will write soon what he wants, and he will send through me some microscopical objects.

P. S.—I have just had the offer of a chance to examine Walter’s herbarium as much as I like!—to take it into my possession for a week if I like! and that after I had nearly given up all hopes of it.

February 5, eleven o’clock, evening.... I think I mentioned in those letters how yesterday was spent, viz., that I rose early, took stagecoach for Turnham Green, near Chiswick, where Lindley resides, breakfasted and spent the day. Lindley was certainly very civil. Mrs. Lindley is a quiet lady of plain manners and apparently very domestic habits. Miss Drake, whose name appears as the artist in all of Lindley’s plates almost, was present, and is, I judge, a member of his family, and perhaps a relative of Mrs. Lindley. I saw Lindley’s splendid “Sertum Orchidaceum,” and a much more luxurious work, the “Orchidaceæ of Mexico and Guatemala,” by Bateman, a very large-paper work à l’Audubon. We looked over some families together in a desultory way, and I took up the Lupines and compared ours carefully with Lindley’s, which were named by Agardh. At dinner met Dr. Quekett and Mr. Miers,[68] a traveler in Brazil. On reaching my room I found a note from Bell, the zoölogist (to whom I brought a letter from John Carey, but left at his house, not being able to see him), inviting me dine as his guest at the Linnæan Club, before the meeting of the Linnæan Society. Fortunately, as I do not like club-dinners, I had previously accepted Bentham’s invitation to dine quietly with him and Mrs. B. on that day, so I sent a note of declinature. I have already told you of my failure, by my own carelessness, of seeing the opening of Parliament, which I regret, as I should like to see the peers in official costume, and the peeresses in full dress.

It did not break my heart, but I returned to Bentham’s and looked over plants until the hour approached to take my place in the park to see the queen, and—what is finer—her superb horses, with what success I have already said; thence to the Horticultural Society, where I received the welcome letters. After dispatching my parcel of letters I took a cab for Bentham’s, as it was raining finely, where we dined in his quiet, elegant way. I don’t think Dr. Torrey saw enough of him, at least in his own house, to appreciate him fully....

You may well infer from my being so much with him that he is my favorite....

Wednesday evening.—After breakfast to-day I went to Lambert’s, thinking to finish nearly the examination of Pursh’s plants, but I found Lambert on the point of going out, though the morning was unpleasant. So I was obliged to retrace my steps; and as a dernier ressort I went to the British Museum, and commenced my examination of the Banksian Herbarium. Brown was there most of the time, but did very little except to read the newspaper and crack his jokes. I broke off at four o’clock; went down to the City, called on Mr. Putnam, took a parcel of late American newspapers away with me, dined, went up to Dr. Boott’s, where I spent the evening so pleasantly that eleven o’clock arrived before I thought of it. It is now twelve. On my return here I found my parcel had arrived from Edinburgh, the beautiful copy of Wallich’s work, a very complete and pretty set of British Algæ from Dr. Greville, and some letters of introduction for the Continent which he has obligingly favored me with. I must write a letter of thanks to-morrow....

Went to Ward’s to see the tunnel.... We had tea, Miss and Mrs. Ward regaled us with music,—and both play extremely well; then Ward and I looked over plants until nearly half past ten, when we had supper, a very substantial one, and I took my leave, arriving at my lodgings a little after twelve....

Sunday evening, February 10.... This morning I attended one of the larger Methodist chapels, where I heard an excellent sermon from 1 Pet. v. 7: “Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.” A portion of the Episcopal service was read at the beginning from the desk; but afterwards the clergyman ascended to the pulpit, when the singing and prayers were in the ordinary manner. In the afternoon I went to hear my old favorite Baptist Noel, who was to preach a kind of charity sermon for the infant-schools of St. Clement’s, Danes. I felt satisfied that we should have a close and fervent sermon, and truly I was not disappointed.... He preaches ex tempore, but has the most perfect facility of language; the words drop from his mouth without any apparent effort, but he never repeats, and all seems equally important; so unless I could write as fast as he speaks I could give you no proper idea of his discourse. His manner is so exceedingly placid that you wonder how he fixes the attention of his auditors so perfectly. There are many other clergymen who have the same ardent piety, and the number I hope is increasing; so that one cannot help expecting great things from this communion, if it once gets free from the contaminating influence of the political power. These men all preach continually to crowded houses, which is another good sign, and proves that the people are ready to hear sound doctrine. I hoped to have heard another of the same stamp this evening, and went all the way to St. Sepulere’s, where Mr. Dale preaches in the evening, but he was out of town....

February 5, evening.—It is not long since I closed a parcel of letters for you, and dispatched them by mail to Liverpool, for the steamship Liverpool, by which I hope they will reach you early. I have since attended a meeting of the Linnæan Society, Mr. Forster in the chair. Lambert never comes now for fear of meeting Don, and also because he is a little piqued, perhaps at not being made president. Brown seldom comes, as he would have to take the chair in Lambert’s absence, and he fears he might annoy Lambert, for Brown is extremely tender of other persons’ feelings. I was most interested in the nominations to fill up the five vacancies of the foreign associates. They were Carus, Milne-Edwards, Dutrochet, Endlicher, and Torrey. The nomination was signed by Bentham, Brown, Boott, Forster, Owen, etc. I knew nothing of it till just before the meeting, and I may be allowed to say that I felt extremely gratified at such a very handsome compliment paid to my best friend.

Lindley has given me to-day a copy of Griffith’s most admirable paper in the last part of the “Transactions Linnæan Society,” on the ovula of Santalum, Loranthuns, Viscum, etc., an anatomical paper of the very highest order,—about forty pages, with eleven fine plates. I am going to buy all the other papers on Botany in the Linnæean Transactions which I think valuable. They can be had of Coxhead, who buys sets and pulls them to pieces to sell separately. Let me not forget to tell you that, after having made diligent inquiry of Brown, Bentham, etc., I had nearly given up all hopes of finding Walter’s[69] herbarium. I spoke to Lindley yesterday, and he said he knew the son of old Fraser, who would be most apt to know something about it, and would give me his address, by which I could find him if in town. But to-day, just after the adjournment of the Horticultural Society, and while I was glancing over your kind letters, Lindley came to say that he had found Walter’s herbarium for me! He introduced me to Mr. Fraser, to whom it belongs, though not immediately in his possession, who offered to send it up for my examination to the Horticultural Society’s rooms, or anywhere I chose. I hope to get at it, with Bentham, about Friday. I shall be anxious to let you know the result....

I am most clearly of the opinion that any person who will make extensive collections of North American plants, both Northern and Southern, and include also a good collection from Santa Fé, the Platte country, etc., have his sets named according to our work, and who would devote four or five years to the business, could, if he were really industrious and prudent, realize $1000 per annum (clear). He should continue my grass-book for one thing, giving loose sets only for the present price, and while from time to time he sells off collections as he can, should retain some fifty sets in all the most interesting genera or small families, get all the species, and publish them in monographic sets. Knieskern could make, with the aid we would gladly furnish, at least ten times as much money, as long as he lives, as he ever will at physic, besides being engaged in a much pleasanter way. I know how all this should be managed now. Now for Dr. Clapp. Tell him that Brown informs me that he does not think jewel lenses can be depended upon as possessing any advantage over glass. He has an excellent sapphire one, but that is a mere chance, and no other has been made anything like it. They are now almost never made, and appear to be going wholly out of use. His other matters I will take in hand, but he must not expect $20 to procure a doublet 1/40th inch focus, two micrometer glasses, and a case of dissecting instruments. I have some engagements before me with microscopical people, and when I get from them all the information I can, I will set about these affairs more understandingly....

Saturday evening, February 9.—I have been engaged nearly the whole day upon the herbarium you so much wished to examine, viz., that of Walter. I have not yet finished it, and find the examination very tedious, as the specimens are very often not labeled, except with the genus in his “Flora,” so that I have first to make out his own species, and then what they are of succeeding authors.

The specimens are mostly mere bits, pasted down in a huge folio volume. I suspect this was done by Fraser, and the labels have sometimes been exchanged, so that it requires no little patience. Some of the things I most wished to see are not in the collection, and there are several in the collection which are not mentioned in the “Flora.” You would laugh to see what some of the things are that have puzzled us: thus, for instance, his “Cucubalus polypetalus” is Saponaria officinalis! His “Dianthus Carolinianus” is Frasera! in fruit. I will soon send you my notes on the collection, or a copy of them. Bentham looked over the Leguminosæ, Labiatæ, etc., with me. I have had two sittings at Pursh, but have not yet finished; I hope another day will do it, but am not certain. I shall still require about three days more at the British Museum, two at the Linnæan Society, and one at Lindley’s. An evening or two at Bentham’s will suffice to certify his Labiatæ, Scrophularinæ, etc. I must also have a day with Brown, if I can get it at his own house. I hope very nearly to finish this next week, if life and health are continued....

February 12, 1839.—I am fearful even another day will not see the end of Lambert’s collection, and I suspect a week is none too little for the British Museum. Lady Charlotte Bury came into Lambert’s and had a long chat with him; such a pair of originals! She is to dine with Lambert on Sunday, but stipulated early, as she always made it a point to read prayers to her servants on Sunday evening!

February 13, Wednesday evening, or rather one o’clock, Thursday.—Rose and breakfasted at eight, which is become my regular practice; started for Lambert’s at ten, where I worked incessantly till five P.M.; returned to my room; dressed; went to the City, where I dined, and about eight o’clock arrived at Ward’s, whose microscopical party this evening was given chiefly on my account. Some eight or more splendid microscopes were in active use when I arrived; and the greater portion of the chief microscopic people were there. I was introduced to Stokes, Solly, Powel, Bowerbank[70].... Also Mr. Quekett, whom I knew before, and several amateurs, such as Boott, Bennett, Bentham, Don, were present. It was a feast to me, you may be sure, and I acquired some useful knowledge, and saw some strange things: the infusoria in flint; queer fossil woods, which are all the rage here, and are extremely curious; fibrocellular tissue, the most beautiful thing you can imagine. One of the best of the microscopists, Mr. Bowerbank, gave me one or two curious microscopical objects, which he had mounted for himself, and made an appointment with me and another friend to meet him on Monday evening next, to examine his microscopes and curious objects more quietly and at large than could be done in a crowd, and to prepare some specimens for me. Mr. Reade, a gentleman who was invited, but was prevented from attending, was so kind as to send me a copy of his paper on the Infusoria and Scales of Fishes found in Flint, with proof impressions which are far superior to those in the “Annals of Natural History.” ...

Tuesday evening, February 19.—Three days have passed since I have written a line for you. This suspension was occasioned by my late hours last night. After spending the morning at the Horticultural Society, then going into the City, where I dined, then going far out on the Mile-End Road to deliver a letter intrusted to me by Mr. Scatcherd, then returning as far as the Bank, I went again, partly by omnibus and partly on my legs, almost as far in the northern outskirts of the town, to spend an evening with Mr. Bowerbank, one of the best microscopists in London, who owns the best microscope. I found so much to see that I did not get away until past twelve, and then I had a walk before me almost the whole length of London,—from New North Road to Charing Cross. I had an opportunity of seeing, what was especially promised me, the camera lucida applied to the microscope; an invaluable invention for an awkward person like me, as I am convinced I could with a very little practice turn out very fair outline sketches of objects I might be examining. I acquired much information on various subjects; saw some most curious and unique specimens of vegetable structure, and particularly of fossil fruits, of which Mr. Bowerbank possesses an invaluable collection; capsules, which we broke open, and examined not only the seed, with its testa, raphe, and funiculus, but even the pulp which surrounded it. I looked at many of his specimens of recent and fossil wood, at his unrivaled cabinet of British fossils, and when our party broke up, there was still so much left that we made an appointment for another evening.... Mr. Bentham, Mr. Brydges, and I went to the Linnæan Society; the president, the Bishop of Norwich, was in the chair,—an amiable old gentleman. Boott, Yarrell, Ward, Royle, Forster, et multis aliis, were present. Mr. Forster[71] invited Dr. Boott and me to fix a day to visit him at his residence, some miles in the country, and dine with him. He is greatly esteemed, and is said to be one of the most kind-hearted and benevolent of men. I am now engaged, I believe, for every day and evening of this week, and half of next, and am busy enough, I assure you....

Friday evening, February 22.—I ought hardly to use the date of Friday evening, as it is close upon one o’clock of Saturday morning. But I must not neglect my journal, and shall therefore give you a few hasty lines ere I prepare for rest. I passed yesterday morning at the British Museum, that is, until near three o’clock. I then hurried to my lodgings, snatched a hasty dinner by the way, and went to the House of Commons, Mr. Bentham having, through Dr. Romily, the speaker’s clerk, procured me an order of admittance within the body of the house, where I had the finest opportunity for hearing and seeing. There was nothing very important brought before the house, yet on different subjects nearly all the leading officers of the administration took the floor, Mr. Rice, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Lord John Russell, who is evidently a man of most ready talent and tact, Lord Palmerston, Lord Morpeth, the new member of the cabinet, etc. I was exceedingly amused by the manner in which Lord John Russell worsted a Colonel Sibthorpe, an opposition member, who moved certain resolutions relative to Lord Durham’s expenses, couched in an offensive manner, and made a still more objectionable speech. Lord J. Russell, in very placid manner, set him out in such a ridiculous light, that the gallant colonel first lost his temper completely, and then lost his point, being obliged to withdraw his own resolutions. I heard also, for a moment, Sir Robert Peel, Dr. Lushington, Mr. Hume, and others too tedious to enumerate. As to general decorum, or the manner in which members often treat each other in debate, I don’t think we have much to learn....

I spent this morning at the British Museum; dined with Mr. Putnam at a chop-house, and went to spend the evening at Mr. Quekett’s. I found, instead of having the evening alone as I expected and wished, that he had invited several friends, most of whom I knew. Still, after tea the microscopes were produced, and I had the opportunity of examining very many curious things.

If they don’t get out of my head in the mean time I will try to mention some of them to Dr. Torrey when I go on with my letter to him. As eating is a very important matter here, we had a magnificent supper at half past ten, and it was near twelve when I left, with a walk of four miles before me....

Saturday evening.—This has been a busy and somewhat interesting day with me. I rose early, went down to Bentham’s to breakfast, stayed until eleven o’clock, and then went up to Brown’s house to spend the morning, according to previous appointment. We talked profound botanical matters, and Brown not only amused and interested me, but gave me much valuable information. He talks of visiting America, possibly next summer, and I have promised to plan him a route. I left him about four o’clock, returned to my lodgings, dressed hastily, took a Kensington omnibus, and reached old Mr. Menzies’ little place at five. Mr. Ward, who was to meet us, was not there. We left at half past ten, and walked all the way back, about four miles. So here I am safe again. I read over the doctor’s short letter again. I am trying to imagine how Herbert looks now. He has probably changed very much since I parted from him. I have a very especial love for that little fellow.[72] I must find time to write to the girls, yet fear I shall scarcely be able until I have left London. Tell them I think of them daily even if I cannot write them. As to M’s French letter, it is not due until I get to France; but that will, I trust, be soon. Adieu. Good-night.

Sunday, February 24. I was fortunate this morning in being able to hear a man I had heard spoken of, and of whom I had formed a high opinion: the Rev. Thomas Dale, Vicar of St. Bride’s, who also preaches in the evening at St. Sepulcre’s. He preached from the first part of Luke vii. 47: “Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much.” The discourse was truly evangelical and impressive. He is the best preacher I have heard in England next to Mr. Noel, and is more eloquent and striking in manner than he, but has not the gentle pathos and sweetness of Noel....

Tuesday evening, February 26.... Met Mr. Putnam[73] at half past four. We had arranged beforehand that he should attempt to procure some orders for admittance to the House of Lords, and that we should go down together. I found he had been successful, having sent his clerk with notes to some half dozen peers in order to make sure, and he thus obtained more orders than he wanted. For me I found he had addressed a note in my name to the Bishop of London, who very promptly sent me an order of admittance.

We set out accordingly. The room which is occupied by the House of Lords temporarily, until the New Houses of Parliament are built, is inferior in size and accommodation to that of the Commons; indeed there is nothing about it at all remarkable. There was no business of very absorbing interest before the House this evening, and it adjourned as early as eight. Still I had the good fortune to hear nearly all those speak that I particularly cared for except Wellington (who is sick) and Earl Durham. I heard a long speech from Brougham and a very good one, except that he took occasion to trumpet his own good works. There was some fine sparring between an Irish lord I do not remember, Lord Roden, Lord Westmeath, and Lord Normanby, the late viceroy of Ireland, a young man apparently, and a man of talent, Melbourne, and Minto; the lord chancellor, Denman the chief justice, Sir James Scarlett, old Lord Holland, etc., also spoke. The word “lengthy,” which was not long since called an Americanism, seems to be pretty well naturalized, as Brougham used it several times, and Scarlett more than once. Lord Palmerston the other evening used the word “ disculpate” instead of “exculpate,” which I fancy is rather modern English....

Friday evening, 12 o’clock, March 1.—I have just returned from a most pleasant evening and day, as I may say, spent at Mr. Forster’s beautiful residence on the border of Epping Forest, Essex (Woodford), about ten miles from here. He is an old man, a banker, one of the oldest vice-presidents of the Linnæan Society, one of the most kind-hearted men, exceedingly beloved. He lives in an elegant but very unostentatious way, in a most beautiful part of the country, the very perfection of English scenery. He is said to be extremely benevolent, and to do a world of good....

Saturday evening.—Immediately after breakfast this morning I went down to Bentham, whom I had not seen for a week; spent two or three hours there, returned again to my lodgings, went to the City, took an early dinner with Mr. Putnam, and then we went together in an omnibus to Hackney; saw Loddiges’ extensive collections of fine plants again, lovely Orchideæ. The Camellias, of which he has a large house filled with magnificent trees, were not yet in bloom.

... We walked across this eastern part of the city down to the Tower, entered the gates and walked over the grounds. It was too late to get entrance to the armory or any of the interesting places, as the light was beginning to fail. I went back to Mr. Ward’s, at Well-close Square, according to promise, to name some plants for him, but Dr. Valentine,[74] a most ingenious vegetable anatomist and microscopist, being in town (had previously met him at Lindley’s), Mr. Ward had foregone his own advantage and invited Valentine and Quekett to meet me with their microscopes, so that the evening was very instructive to me, which I had not anticipated. Mr. Ward seems to have taken a fancy to me, for I can hardly imagine that he takes so much pains to oblige every one, absorbed as he is also in medical practice. He presented me with a beautiful botanical digger of fine polished steel, with a leathern sheath, which I suspect he has had made on purpose for me; though I don’t know why he should have thought of it. Mrs. Ward was inquiring about the Abbotts and their works, one of which she had, which makes her wish for more. I am often asked about Mr. Abbott, whose works seem much more generally known here than those of any other American religious author. I must find some for Mrs. Ward.

Sunday evening, March 3.—I went this morning to hear, perhaps for the last time, Baptist Noel. The sermon was from the last three verses of the same psalm (Ps. ciii.) from which he has preached on the former occasions when I have heard him in his own church; and truly a good sermon it was. I have told you that the chapel is a large one. Yet it is so well filled that I have always had some difficulty in getting a seat, and to-day I actually stood near the pulpit during the whole service and sermon. But it is worth while submitting to some inconvenience. In the afternoon I walked up to Tottenham Court Road, and looked up the chapel built by Whitfield, the scene of his useful labors in London. If you read, as I think you did, Philip’s “Life of Whitfield,” you must take some interest in this place.[75] I found the chapel a large but outlandish building, with an inscription over one of the entrances, stating that the building was erected by George Whitfield. Within is a tablet to the memory of Mrs. Whitfield, who is buried here, and a monumental inscription to Whitfield himself (which I regret I did not copy), mentioning the date of his death at Newburyport, near Boston. The preacher this afternoon (for I believe there is more than one who officiates here) was the Rev. Mr. Wight, who gave an impressive, practical sermon from the concluding clause of the last verse of Romans viii.: “The love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” It was, I think, rather above his audience, which I am sorry to say was exceedingly small. Indeed I hope it is generally better filled, but I should not have expected so great a falling off in the attendance of plain unfashionable people in the afternoon. These Whitfieldians are, one would think, farther separated from the Established Church than Wesleyans (which was certainly not the case in Whitfield’s time, who refused to take any steps to establish a sect apart from the Church of England); for in the Wesleyan chapel I attended the liturgy was read, but here we had none of it. Only last summer I read a biography of Whitfield with much attention; and it was very interesting to worship in this chapel of his. It recalls more interesting associations than Westminster Abbey or any vast and splendid cathedral. But I must bid you good-night, purposing to rise early and have an hour or so before the pressing business of the day is commenced to write another sheet to you and our good Dr. Torrey, to whom I have so much to say, if I could ever find time for it.

Friday.—I have been to-day at the British Museum, studying from the specimens of Plukenet, Catesby, Miller, etc., etc., the authority for old Linnæan species in Ilex, Prinos, Eupatorium, etc. It is slow and tedious work, and I shall not have time to do so much of it as I could wish. Brown told me to-day about Petalanthera. It is Cevallis, Lagasca, Hortus Matritensis, and very probably his species, even C. sinuata. It came from New Spain. You will see Lindley is all astray about the genus, and no one knows its affinities even, but Brown. Lagasca himself refers it to Boragineæ. It is true Loaseæ. I was this evening at Bentham’s, and found he had a specimen of C. sinuata from Hooker, collected by Brydges in Mexico, I think. I have asked Brown to give us some notes on the subject, a generic character, etc., that we may publish a little from his own pen. I am to spend a day with him next week, and I will try to get something out of him. He hinted to me some days ago that he knew something about Cyrilla, but I could not get it out of him. I’ll try again. He tells me he has a character to distinguish true Rhexia, which has escaped Don, De Candolle, etc. We must find it out. Bentham has given me his “Scrophulariæ Indicæ,” and the three last parts of his “Labiatæ;” I have bought the rest (£1 2s. 6d.), and last evening we looked over his North American specimens, and the notes in his copy. He gave me also, the other day, the only published part of the “Plantæ Hugelianæ” and a few other pamphlets. He is a liberal soul.

I have got so far behind in my botanical news that I despair of bringing up arrears, and must leave very much to tell you in propria persona, if we meet again. I fancy I have not very much new to learn on the Continent about microscopes and modes of working. I have seen much of all the best people here, last not least Valentine, who lives in the country, from whom I have derived much useful knowledge. He works to some account, which can’t be said of most here, who, though they have the best instruments in the world, don’t turn them to any important account. As to Sullivant, tell him to have great patience. I can get him a capital simple microscope by Ross for six guineas, but I want to get as useful a one for him cheaper, so I shall wait till I have been on the Continent, I think. My plan is to purchase at Paris for him, where the low powers are good as can be, and supply a lens or two here....

Chapmannia (!) exists in Bartram’s old collection here, which you saw at British Museum, and some other very lately published things.

I bought a copy of “Flora” for Bennett the other day, thinking it worth while to offer him something, as I was taking up much of his time. To-day he gave me a copy of the published part of the “Plantæ Javanicæ Rariores,” (£2 10s., plain, is the publishing price), an invaluable work, containing very many notes and observations on various genera, etc., both by Brown and himself, which it is quite necessary we should see. The notes I have made for the last few days are not now before me, so that I cannot now give you any remarks. There is no one thing of very considerable importance, but much small matter. By the way, let me say that Bennett thinks that Brown thinks Romanzovia to be hydrophyllaceous! Bentham would give something to know this, but I shall keep it to myself. I have made out the remainder of Pursh’s doubtful Arenarias and Stellarias front the Banks herbarium. The parcel of Solidagos, etc., sent to care of Mr. Putnam, I am glad to say, came to hand. It did not arrive until last week, however....

Monday evening, twelve o’clock.... As I sit down to tell you what I have been about to-day, my thoughts cross the wide wave that separates us, and brings me back to 30 MacDougal Street, and to the time when, returning from town, I used to present myself before you, give an account of my proceedings, tell you perhaps some news about that ill-fated expedition of which you were so sick of hearing; how it would certainly sail in a month, or something just as likely. When thinking of this long separation, I console myself with the idea that it is better than if I had gone there. In that case I should now have been your antipodes. Now there are only some four or five hours of shadow between us. And, sluggard as you call me at home, I am up in the morning two or three hours before you. Tell that to the girls for a wonder! I left my room this morning at eleven, walked to Portland Place, called on the American minister, who being unwell I was furnished by the secretary of legation with what I desired, namely, a passport. This I left, as the manner is, at the office of the French embassy, that his majesty Louis Philippe may have fitting notice of the honor that is to be done him, for the king of the French is, it seems, rather particular abut such matters, and it is a pity not to oblige him, especially as you can’t help yourself. This being done I went on to the Linnæan Society, and by working at the full stretch of my powers contrived to get through the Linnæan herbarium (skipping a few genera now and then) about six o’clock. Returned home pretty well fatigued, took some tea and toast, called upon Bentham, whom I found writing letters of introduction for me. I have them now before me. They are addressed to Seringe at Lyons; Requien, Avignon; Lady Bentham (B.’s mother) at Montpellier, with request to make me acquainted with Dunal and Delile; Moretti at Pavia; Visiani at Padua; Tomasini at Triest; Unger at Gratz; Endlicher at Vienna; Martius and Schultes at Munich; Reichenbach at Dresden; Pöppig at Leipsic. These, with what I have already from Hooker, Arnott, Greville, Boott, etc., with a few that I expect at Paris, leave me little to wish for in this respect. About ten o’clock went to Mrs. Stevenson’s party. It was not a very large one, and in no way especially remarkable. I found there of course the Bootts (three sizes, viz., Mrs. Boott the grandmother, Mrs. Boott the mother, and Miss Boott the daughter) and so of course I was upon good footing. Our minister lives in neat but by no means splendid style, quite enough so for a republican; and Mrs. S. is very lady-like and prepossessing in appearance. Mr. Stevenson did not make his appearance. Of course, I did not stay long.

TO JOHN TORREY.

Poor Hunneman died yesterday, after a short illness. I have spent much time evenings with Mr. Valentine, whom I like extremely. Excepting only Brown, he is the best microscopical observer in Great Britain. He cares little, however, for proper systematic botany, for which I am sorry. He has shown me some curious things.

I have learned from Brown the character he observed in our species of Rhexia, that is, the true genus Rhexia: the unilocularity of the anthers....

Tuesday evening, March 12.—After a hard day’s work I finished on Monday evening with the Linnæan herbarium, which I found more interesting than I expected and more satisfactory, as it is in really good state, carefully taken care of, etc. I had some very good notes to make. I assure you I feel much gratified to have studied this collection, which, with the Gronovian, enables us to start fair as to Linnæan species. Do you know that Acer saccharinum, Linn., is A. eriocarpum (spec. Kalm)! Look at Linnæus “Species Plantarum” (which you have not, unfortunately, though it is the most necessary of books; you will receive it at the same time as this letter or nearly) and you will find that the description is all drawn from Eriocarpum.

I took what time I could to-day for the Gronovian plants and a few of Plukenet’s, etc., but was unable to finish; will go to-morrow, for I shall work to the last moment.

I have been tempted to buy a collection of Hartweg’s[76] very fine Mexican plants, which being collected far in the interior of north Mexico are very North American, and quite necessary, I think, for us. They will reach you with the other parcels. Be careful about the little labels with the numbers stuck on. Bentham will publish them presently....

Professor Royle, as the agent of India people, I believe, offers me seeds from Himalaya Mountains, received, and still to be received, from the government collectors, in exchange for those of useful and interesting North American plants, which they are desirous of introducing into India. But as I can’t attend to it until another season, he kindly offers to send to you a portion of the seeds just received, and to ask you to distribute them in such way as will be most useful, and ask those you give them to (say Downing, Hogg, Dr. Wray, Dr. Boykin, etc., and some one in the valley of the Mississippi or Arkansas) to collect seeds of trees, etc. (you can suggest what would be most desirable), and send them to London, whence they will be sent in the mails overland to India. As I fear I shall not see Royle again I shall write him a note, telling him, as I promised, how to send to you.

I saw Dr. Sims’ herbarium, at King’s College. I want to look at it to certify a few early “Botanical Magazine” plants.

Brown came to the museum this morning with a copy of a curious late paper of Schleiden (which I had seen before) on the Development of the Embryo, with a parcel of his own notes on the same subject made in 1810, 1812, 1815, etc., which did not altogether correspond. Brown thinks much of Schleiden as an observer. He read me many of his old notes, and the subject took him to speak of his discoveries with regard to the embryos of Pinus. To explain to me as he went on he drew the diagram on the inclosed slip of paper, and pointed out to me how to observe in our species of Pinus. This will refresh my memory as to all he told me, so pray keep it safely. There is much very curious matter now afloat about the process of impregnation and the early development of embryo, which I am accumulating, as much as I can, for future use. Pray tell Dr. Perrine that the gardeners and botanists here insist by acclamation almost that there is no such thing as acclimation in the vegetable kingdom.

What a pickle the Linnæan Ascyrum is in! I wish I had room to tell you.

TO MRS. TORREY.

Tuesday morning, two o’clock A.M., March 14, 1839.

I have just finished packing up, being about to start for Boulogne in steamboat at nine o’clock this morning, and I must now hastily close my letters. This, or rather yesterday, has been a busy day with me. I started in the morning to have a look at a few more things of Pursh’s at Lambert’s, but he kept me longer than I liked. He found somewhere a small parcel of plants collected by Eschscholz in Kotzebne’s voyage, who sent them to Lambert. Lambert gave me all the North American ones, few to be sure, but interesting. From Lambert’s I returned by way of the Horticultural Society, to bid good-by to Lindley and Bentham, but the latter insists upon coming up in the morning to my lodgings to see me off. I have made a fortunate acquisition for him. He told me he saw, a few days ago, at an auction some copies of Richard’s fine work on the Coniferæ, but an engagement at the time prevented him from staying to buy a copy of the work for himself, which he imagined would be sold cheap. Mr. Putnam found out who bought up these copies, and obtained one at nearly the price at which they were sold. I shall have the pleasure of presenting it to Bentham this morning when he calls. I went to the British Museum, worked hard until four o’clock; but was not able quite to finish, so I left my copy of Gronovius, in which I was making notes, with Mr. Bennett to keep for me until my return in the autumn, and took leave of Brown and Bennett. Went to Dr. Boott’s; saw Mrs. and Miss Boott, who insisted upon giving me a note of introduction to a friend of theirs in Florence; went to the City, dined with Putnam, down to Well-close Square, took my tea, and bid good-by to Ward and family, and Mr. Quekett....

TO THE MISSES TORREY.

Paris, March 18, 1839, Monday evening.

I am now at the Hotel de l’Empereur Joseph II., Rue Tournon, près du Palais du Luxembourg. Here I have been established for about half an hour, and my first business shall be to fill this sheet for you. I suppose I must begin at the beginning and tell you how I came here. Voilà. I left London at nine o’clock in the morning of the 14th inst. (Thursday), stopping on my way to the steamboat which was to take me to Boulogne, to leave a parcel of letters at Mr. Putnam’s office, to be forwarded to dear friends at home. It was a nasty, rainy morning; and our boat was, as indeed I expected, not very comfortable. The cabin was well enough, but much too small for the accommodation of some fifty or sixty persons, and there was no covering to the deck, nor any deck-cabin, except two dirty little places for the poorer passengers, who were not allowed the use of ours; so we had our choice the whole day between the soaking in the rain upon the deck and the close atmosphere of the crowded cabin. Of course I was vibrating between the two dilemmas the whole day, but took as much pains as I could to keep dry. The only thing I saw worthy of notice as we went down the Thames was Greenwich Hospital, of which I will perhaps send a print. I should add also chalk cliffs, for I never before saw rocks and hills of chalk. In the afternoon, as we had fairly got into the Channel, a thick fog came on. The captain lost his way and seemed in fear that he should run the boat upon the Sands, so he dropped anchor about five in the afternoon. We were to have arrived at Boulogne at nine that evening. But as I saw there was no great chance of our moving for some time, I set about making amends for my loss of sleep the previous night. I took possession of two thirds of a hard sofa, and, wrapped in my cloak, was soon in a comfortable doze. I awoke late in the evening; and such a sight as there was before me! It seems that there were no accommodations for sleeping on board, or next to none, and the passengers, men, women, and children, were indiscriminately but thickly strewn over the sofas, chairs, and even over the whole floor, with portmanteaus, great-coats, and whatever they could find for pillows, attempting to secure such rest as they could,—some sixty persons or more crowded into a space not larger than the cabin of one of our ferry-boats....

But I was too drowsy to mind it much, and soon fell asleep again, but awoke in the morning with swollen eyes and complaining bones. The boat was moving again, and it was raining as hard as ever. The distant coast of France soon came in view, and at half past ten we were landed at Boulogne. We were escorted to the custom-house; what baggage we had brought in our hands was closely examined by the officers, an ill-looking, vagabond set; our passports were taken from us and provisional ones given, which permitted us to go on to Paris, and for which we each had to pay two francs; we were then allowed to go to a hotel and get our breakfast, a privilege which most of us were not slow to avail ourselves of. I made a hearty meal of cold roast beef, café au lait, excellent bread, and delicious butter. The two last I have found ever since I have been in France. I gave my keys to the commissionaire of the hotel to get my luggage through the custom-house, and, my place being taken in the diligence for Paris at two o’clock, having nothing else to do, I went to the custom-house to see the examination of the luggage. Lazy custom-house officers and gendarmes were lounging about, while heavy carts loaded with baggage were drawn up from the boat by women!—and this while it was raining hard, and the poor creatures were without hats or bonnets, and had only a handkerchief or a bit of cloth tied over their heads. So much for this self-styled most refined and polite nation! I noticed the poor things when their task was done and they were waiting to convey the trunks, etc., from the custom-house to the various hotels. Some were chatting in groups, apparently quite content with their lot; a few were sleeping, and many, with the characteristic industry of their sex, produced their knitting-work from their pockets and were busily employed at a more appropriate and feminine employment. I was amused at the strictness with which three exceedingly unpleasant-looking fellows searched all our baggage, that of the ladies not less than that of the men. Little parcels were opened, dirty linen was overhauled and most minutely inspected; the whole scene would have made a fit subject for the pencil of Hogarth. My traveling-bag was examined from top to bottom, and I began to fear that my trunk, which I had packed with care, would be sadly deranged, but they contented themselves with cutting open a packet of seeds I was taking from the Horticultural Society to De Candolle, and with seizing as a great prize my rather formidable parcel of letters of introduction. This was near causing me to be detained until the next diligence; but the commissionaire succeeded in getting them sent up to the inspector in another part of the town, upon whom we called, when after due explanation had been made, and one or two of the letters read, they were formally delivered back to me.

I can tell you what a French diligence is like. It is just like one of the railroad cars (about three apartments) of the Harlem railroad, for example, mounted on coach wheels; the horses are small, lean, shaggy, and ugly; some seven of these beasts are fastened, three abreast and one for a leader, with ropes to the said diligence; but how such beasts contrive to draw such a cumbrous vehicle, loaded with seventeen persons and their baggage, besides a driver and conductor, I don’t well understand, although the beasts are changed every five or six miles; but somehow we got over the ground pretty fast, and came to Paris, over one hundred and forty miles, in a little less than thirty hours, although it rained all the first day and part of the second, and the roads were extremely muddy.

We arrived just before nightfall at Montreuil, a fine old fortified French town situated on the summit of a hill and overlooking a broad valley, which in summer must be quite beautiful; here we dined, and were charged four francs each for dinner, besides sous to the garçon. I slept pretty well in the night, during which we passed Abbéville, where there is said to be a fine church. We breakfasted at the queer old town of Beauvais, where there is a fine cathedral, of which I had a pretty good view. My breakfast (déjeuner à la fourchette, which is the next thing to a dinner) cost three and a half francs, for on this route you meet with very English charges. I wished to say something about the country, but have not room. Suffice it to say that we passed through the town of St. Denis late in the afternoon, where I did not even get a glimpse of the very ancient cathedral, and arrived at Paris just before nightfall. After dinner, in company with a fellow-passenger, a young Englishman, I gratified a long-felt curiosity by strolling through the Palais Royal and some of the principal streets of Paris. On Sunday I attended church in the morning (after a vain attempt to find the American Chapel) at the Rev. Mr. Sayer’s English Episcopal Chapel, where I heard a good sermon; and in the evening at the Methodist Chapel, where the Rev. Mr. Toase preached a truly excellent discourse from Jeremiah viii. 13. All the shops were open just as on any other day, and the gardens and parks were all crowded. This morning I went down to the Jardin des Plantes, stopping by the way to see the ancient church of Notre-Dame, where I heard a portion of the Catholic service chanted.... At last, after looking at many other buildings and objects of curiosity, about which I will tell you more presently, I reached the garden, found Decaisne, who could speak no English, and I almost no French; so he took me to Adrien de Jussieu, who makes out to speak very tolerable English, and to understand me pretty well. I left soon to call on Mr. Webb,[77] who is an Englishman, for whom I had a letter from Hooker; thence after looking in vain for “appartements garnis “ in Rue de l’Odéon, Place de l’Odéon, etc., I secured my lodgings here, where I shall be obliged to hear nothing but French, and where I hope I may catch some of the language, and after dining at the ordinary at the Hôtel de Lille, where English is spoken, I transferred myself to my present quarters. But my sheet is full. I will give you another very soon. Till then, mes chères petites sœurs, adieu.

Wednesday evening, March 20.—I must continue my letter to you on a large sheet of thin French paper, else I shall have a larger bill of postage to pay than will be altogether convenient when I send to Havre. I did not write last evening; I had no fire in my room, and after running about all day over streets paved with little square blocks of stone, which it is very fatiguing to walk over, I came home fairly tired, and went to bed soon after nine o’clock. Except calling on M. Delessert, for whom I had a letter and a small parcel from Hooker, and whom I did not find at home, I spent the whole day in looking about the town, seeing sights, etc. My first call was at the Louvre, a large and splendid palace, where I spent an hour or two in the vast gallery of paintings, which fill a very large salon and a long gallery, I suppose five hundred or six hundred feet long, connecting the Louvre with the palace of the Tuileries....

To-day I have been wholly occupied at the Jardin des Plantes. Fortunately for me Jussieu speaks a little English, so I can get on with him pretty well. But you would have been amused at the attempts which M. Decaisne and M. Gaudichaud[78] and myself made to understand each other. Still more amused would you have been to see how I managed to make a bargain with a bookseller for a few books I wished to purchase. I feel the want of French sadly, and have no time for study.

Thursday evening.—I have been again occupied the whole day at the Jardin des Plantes, and went at six o’clock to dine with Mr. Webb to meet M. Gay.[79] Webb had taken care to ask an English student also, who speaks French much better than he does English, who sat between Gay and myself and interpreted when it became necessary. But Gay speaks a little of what will pass for English, mixed here and there with French, so that I got on very well indeed.

Gaudichaud was also there, a very interesting man if one could talk with him. We were kept rather late, so that it is now past twelve, so I must bid you good-night.

Monday evening.... At three o’clock I went to the Institute. I found that the room was already crowded. I inquired for Jussieu and Brongniart, the only members I could think of that I knew, but they were not there and therefore I could not get in. After some time Jussieu came in. But it was then too late, so I lost the object for which I had given up half the day. Jussieu, however, took me into the library, which is worth seeing. I employed the remaining hour or so in purchasing some prints of remarkable buildings, etc., in Paris, and I was also tempted to buy a few engravings from some of the great masters. After dinner I went to Mr. Webb’s, where I looked at plants for a few hours. He gave me also some autographs of celebrated botanists, and a few old botanical books....

Friday evening, March 29.... The Garden of Plants was nearly on my way home; so I stopped there, worked for an hour (till five o’clock), went home (home, indeed!), took my dinner, found myself most thoroughly tired as well as hungry, having had no breakfast but a small roll of bread I obtained near the cemetery; had a fire kindled in my room, and commenced writing to you. Just now the little daughter of the concierge, a little girl of six or seven, who often waits upon me, has brought me a cup of coffee, which I have enjoyed greatly, and now feel much restored. French children are all pretty and graceful, and I am making the little girl’s acquaintance as fast as I can; for it is difficult for me to understand her (it seems odd to hear such a little thing speak French), and in answer to some of my attempts to speak French to her, she answers, “Je n’entends pas anglais, monsieur.”

What great lies the French newspapers tell! Yesterday morning the paper I was reading at my breakfast stated that one of the gardeners who had charge of the bears at the Jardin des Plantes descended into the inclosure for some purpose, and was seized by the bears, killed immediately, and almost eaten up before help was obtained. So when I arrived at the garden I of course spoke to Decaisne about it, who was greatly surprised, for it seems the story was entirely a fabrication.

I see I have at length filled this large sheet, so I must say adieu for the present, but hope to-morrow evening to begin another. Ever I remain,

Your attached,
A. G....

TO MRS. TORREY.

Wednesday evening.... There is little danger of my being spoiled in Paris by being overpolished. In London one must take care to be always comme il faut. There I took pains to keep myself rather spruce, which I have continued here from the mere force of habit!!! But gentlemen in Paris dress anyhow; they don’t pay half the attention to the matter it receives in England; with the ladies it is perhaps different, but here I scarcely ever see ladies except in the streets or shops and restaurants! At the houses of botanists I have only seen Mme. Gay, a very plain and good-natured Swiss lady. As to parlez-vous-ing, it is not such an easy matter, I assure you. You would laugh most heartily to see me in the botanic gallery of the Jardin des Plantes, endeavoring to carry on a conversation with Gaudichaud or Decaisne; the former of whom can scarcely read English, and the latter can speak only a dozen words. I get out, with no little difficulty, a few sentences of such French as has not been heard since the days of King Pepin, I am sure; and when that fails me I write in English, which Decaisne can read, and make him write in French in return, or else for short sentences speak very slowly and distinctly. From my ignorance of the language I am obliged to take great pains when I wish to purchase anything from the shops; for it is customary to put on an additional price to English customers. Fortunately my complexion and the style of my countenance are so far French that before I speak I am generally taken for a native, and I sometimes manage to make purchases without saying a word beyond a monosyllable. So I have to be very careful to avoid being cheated; but I am every day acquiring more knowledge and experience.

I have been seized with a mania for collecting prints on a small scale, and shall send home some very good ones,—to adorn my parlor and study at Michigan, of course! There are astonishing quantities to be found here. I am endeavoring to get all the portraits of botanists I can, and from this I have been led to pick up ancient ones, which show the early state of the art or old-fashioned costumes, etc., and also a few choice engravings from the old masters; but most of these I can obtain better in Italy or Germany. Tell Dr. Torrey not to be alarmed, for I shall not spend much money upon them.

As a general thing Paris is not very beautiful. But there are some magnificent sights, I assure you. At odds and ends of time I have already seen most of the ordinary sights which attract the attention of travelers, but must leave all account of them for the journal from Paris, which so far is addressed to the girls, though I fear it will scarcely interest them or any one else....

Decaisne has given me separate copies of his papers. He is now publishing a most splendid (botanically speaking) memoir upon the order Lardizabaleæ, in which I see he has found out some things which have been known to Brown only, for a long time. He will give us copies, I dare say. He is one of the best botanists here. I like Gaudichaud also very much....

I have just finished the examination of Michaux’s herbarium, which has proved worth looking over. I shall write the doctor more particularly, indeed have already begun a letter for him. Mr. Webb showed me last evening a letter from Hooker, which contains a good deal of botanical intelligence for himself and me. The British Antarctic expedition, he says, is to sail positively in August, and Joseph is to go. I wonder if they will be two years or so in getting off!...

TO THE MISSES TORREY.

Paris, April 1, 1889, Monday evening.

My dear Girls,—It is rather late, and I have no fire in my room, to which I have just now returned, but it is nearly comfortable without one, and so we will have a few words together before I sleep. My last and long sheet was closed, I think, on Friday evening. On Saturday my morning was spent as usual at the Jardin des Plantes; returning from whence I looked along the shops and so on to the Pont du Louvre, which I crossed; passed through the Palais Royal at the most busy season, when it is all lighted up splendidly, and dined at the Restaurant Colbert at half past seven. I am patiently exploring (I should say eating) my way through the mazes of French cookery, and am trying to select from the complicated bill of fare the more peculiar and national dishes, some of which are excellent, others so-so, or very poor....

To-day I have been again at the Garden, working as hard as possible, since I have so little time remaining. I dined at half past six at one of the famous restaurants, just to see how it was managed, and returning spent the early part of the evening with Mr. Webb, who lives near me.

On my way from the Garden, I stopped at another church. I believe the only remaining one of large size and much interest which I had not already seen.... It is called St. Severin, and is very old, having been built in the year 1210.

This is the first of April, and a fine spring day it has been, though the season is little more advanced than at New York. In two weeks I must be again upon the wing, and shall soon meet the summer. I want to see the south of France and sunny Italy. Adieu.

Tuesday evening, April 2.—I intended to have had time this evening to write several letters, but Decaisne has been with me, and did not leave until almost twelve, we had so much to talk about. I have been all the morning at the Garden; have worked very hard, indeed, and have nearly finished there. To-morrow is like to be a broken day, as I have made an engagement to see Dr. Montagne[80] and his microscope at twelve o’clock, which will take an hour or two out of the very best part of the day. I will try to turn the fragments of the day to some account. But now good-night.