Identifier: lincolncentenni00newy (find matches)
Title: Lincoln centennial number
Year: 1909 (1900s)
Authors:
Subjects: Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865 Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865 Trumbull, Lyman, 1813-1896 Presidents
Publisher: New York
Contributing Library: Lincoln Financial Foundation Collection
Digitizing Sponsor: The Institute of Museum and Library Services through an Indiana State Library LSTA Grant

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erableNovember weather. I crossed France toLyons in the hope of taking a steamerwhich I was told descended the Rhone toAvignon, near Marseilles, at a very re-duced price. But at Lyons I found theservice stopped, so I had to go down in thecars. While loitering at the station it wasqueer to see some twenty or thirty Prus-sian prisoners awaiting a train, calmlylounging about, smoking their peacefulfamily-looking porcelain pipes. At Marseilles I just missed a boatthat went to Civita Vecchia, the point oflanding for Rome, so I had to wait threedays more. I was not the most respecta-ble object in the world; and, as I wasfollowed once or twice during the firstday by other suspicious-looking persons,through fear I determined to pass my timeaway from the city, which I did by goingto the hill called Notre Dame de BonneGarde, from which there was a marvelousview of Marseilles, the Mediterranean,and the surrounding coast. During all this time, in fact duringthe whole trip from Limoges, I lived on
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From a photograph owned by Thomas Moure AUGUSTUS SAINT-GAUDENS (SEATED), GEORGE DUBOIS (AT THE LEFT),AND ERNEST MAYOR, DURING A WALKING TRIP IN 1871 figs and chocolate and pieces of an extra-ordinary pate, given me by the big, fat,whole-hearted wife of the owner of thepension where my brother lived. So bythe time I boarded the little steamer forCivita Vecchia, my stomach was not in acondition to be tossed about. My other pos-session besides this pate was the box con-taining my cameo-cutters lathe, to whichI clung during the forty or fifty hoursof the journey between Marseilles andCivita Vecchia, during which I sufferedthe tortures of the damned, rolling roundthe deck in misery, and in my more lucid LXXVII —62 intervals catching glimpses of the sailorsseated before my pate, which they, nodoubt, seeing that I was unable to appre-ciate it, concluded to dispose of them-selves. In contrast to this, the trip to Romefrom Civita Vecchia, when the cars rolledthrough the soft air of the Campa

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