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pense not exceeding a hundred dollars to each. four days in Cork, three at the Lakes of Killarney, a week and a half at Dublin, three weeks and a half at London, and a week at Paris, on the way. We always fared simply, but substantially and well.

Wherever we made any stay, we went to the lodging houses with which every city in Europe abounds, and which are so largely used by Europeans themselves. Thus, in that long journey from Cork to Berlin, by way of London and Paris, two dollars a day paid every ontlay.

A“country parson " lately consulted us on the expenses of a short tour in Europe. We sat down and blocked one out for him, which lay through very interesting scenes, and then estimated the expense. He should take ten weeks in Europe, and add three for the time in crossing the Atlantic. He should land at Cork, Ireland, visit Killarney Lakes, Dublin, Belfast, Giant's Causeway, Glasgow, the Scottish Lakes, Edinburgh, Hamburg, (reaching it by steamer direct from Scotland), Berlin, Dresden, Wittenberg, Leipsig, Weimar, Erfurt, Frankfort on the Main, Heidelberg, Strasburg, Paris, London, and Liverpool. This, with sundry little excursions, would make a very pleasing tour. From Dublin le could easily reach Goldsmith's Deserted Village, from Leipsig he could run to Halle and Luther's birth-place. From Strasburg he could take a two days flight within the limits of Switzerland, and view its lofty heights at no very remote distance. From Frankfort he could run up the Main and a short railway to Munich. All these minor excursions could be left to his taste and time. But the round trip from Cork back to Liverpool, as marked out above, could be made in the first class cabin on steamboats, and the third class on the railroads, for one hundred and fifty dollars, allowing a dollar and a qnarter a day for the expenses of living-a liberal allowance, according to our experience. We have had a comfortable room in Northumberland Court, London, within stone's toss of Charing Cross, the National Gallery, and Morley's Hotel, had good wholesome entertainment in the chop houses, and paid our adinission fees to all collections which required such, and all omnibus and steamer fares on the Thames, for one pound a week. We have done the same in

Paris. We have lived substantially but in the utmost simplicity in Berlin, and paid every bill, rent, lights, washing, and food, with seven dollars a month, but this was exceptional, and only done to beat Bayard Taylor on his own ground. He marked ten dollars as the minimum in Frankfort. We chose a worse field and accomplished it with seven. So we showed our friend, the parson, an entirely practical thing to be done when we taught him how to spend three hundred dollars between the day when he should leave New York or Boston bay, and the day when he should enter it again.

It need not cost much more for a lady to travel in Europe than for a gentleman. A house good enough for a gentleman to stop at is good enough for his sister or wife, and at the lodg. ing houses the accommodations are quite as cleanly and respectable as at the hotels, and not half as expensive. If you are making a stay of more than a day at a place, it is the best policy to tarry at a good lodging house. Irish people going into Dublín or Belfast, would almost invariably choose one in preference to a hotel ; so would Scotch people going into Edinburgh ; so would English people visiting London; so would French people coming up to Paris. They are always to be seen, and the police can direct you in a moment to quarters entirely respectable. But while every one wants a clean bed to sleep on, a gentleman can ride with comfort in a third class car, while a lady would hardly like to. Many do it, it is true, and no one thinks it strange in them, and yet we could blame no lady for wishing to decline that honor. In traveling alone, however, we have enjoyed that intimacy with the people and that familiarity with national life which it gives, and have always preferred to ride with them and hear their talk. Of course we need not say that it adds largely to the expenses of foreign travel to have the encumbrance of trunks; to travel cheaply one must keep as close as he can to one durable suit to wear, a shawl for extraordinary needs, linen for cleanliness, a brush and comb for tidiness, and two or three sterling books for recreation. These, with pen, ink, and paper, needles and thread, make all a man ought to have.

In order to meet the needs of those whose course of wander



ings would be more extensive than that of our friend mentioned above, we must take a wider view. In general, with some acquaintance with French or German, a dollar and a quarter a day will pay the hotel bill in any part of Europe. . Not of course in those sumptuous hotels, de Belle Vue, Morley's or Meurice's, where you meet swarms of grumbling, victimized Americans paying their ten dollars a day for the privilege of occupying a little corner in the fifth or sixth story of a palace, and being sponged at every turn. You, my friend, have, we

, trust, too much taste to stop with snobs and parvenues, to go where all is in style, indeed, but not in national style; ratherin that Frenchy English style, which has now made the tour of Europe and been proclaimed supreme. You want, we trust, to stop at humbler houses, where all is plain but neat, liomely but snbstantial, and where you can see the national life and not take a compound of London and Paris wherever you go. We take it for granted that you are willing to forego the charms of your mother tongue for a season, and condescend to make your bargains in French and German. If you are what we think you are, a dollar and a quarter a day will pay your reckoning at the Inn.

Now take our estimate of a tour to be made by the country parson" as a base, and make some additions to it. Would you journey to Italy? It requires but nineteen dollars to pass across Switzerland from IIeidelberg to Milan. Six dollars will take you from the railroad between Hamburg and Berlin to Copenhagen ; eight would carry you from the same railroad to Stockholm. This would be via Lubeck, itself a very interesting old Hanseatic city. It is only an eight dollar journey from Paris to Marseilles, and from there the fare in the second class cabin is but thirteen dollars to Naples, or seventeen to Rome. In the third cabin it is but nine dollars to Naples, and thirteen to Rome. There is a fourth cabin, but we are neither scrubs nor cattle, and we will inquire no further.

Since Taylor wrote his “ Views-a-foot,” an important change has come over Europe. Railways now go everywhere, and it is no longer economy to wear out sole leather. Taking the number of nights lodging which a pedestrian must pay for, it

is by far the cheapest course to pay two and a half cents a mile and ride in the cars. Of course there are wild and romantic regions which it would be poor policy to forego exploring on foot, but the long stretches are best spanned by rail. Protracted stays in the cities, too, are much more favorable to the purse than brief tarryings in villages. In the cities you can be independent of every one, in the villages you are a marked man and must act like a nobleman or a banker at least.

With the strong tendency of our students to emigrate to foreign Universities, after completing their course at home, our Article would not be complete without alluding to the expenses of University life abroad. If you want to know to how large a figure they may expand, consult Bristed's Five Years in an English University. Of course there is no limit in that direction, as our students all know. We do not think that any one can live at a Scotch, French, or German University town, at less than seven dollars a month, and enjoy a room at all comfortable, and fare both abundant and wholesome. And, in fact, that is too low a figure for real comfort. Twelve dollars a month, exclusive of clothing and lecture fees, accord with our best experience. In Edinburgh, expenses do not vary much from the standard at Berlin and Munich. In Paris they are much the same. In the small University towns of Germany, twelve dollars a month will settle all bills inclusive of the University expenses proper. These will not vary widely from thirty-five dollars a year.

Some may say, and probably will, in reading this Article, although it may all be done with these little sums, yet I prefer to wait till I can do the thing handsomely. Well, you may be right, but we do not think you are. We have enjoyed some opportunities for witnessing the manner of all kinds of tourists, and we can confidently affirm that those who were traveling with small means were the happiest. Those gouty old gentlemen and well-conditioned , old ladies, those overdressed yonths and languid maidens, who talk enthusiastically of the delightful days spent in Paris and Florence, Dresden and the Alps, are deceiving you and themselves. They were the most wretched, most unphilosophical grumblers you ever met.

They were so tormented by petty exactions that they had neither eye, time, nor patience left for anything else. They had a shrewd suspicion that they were victimized by hotel keepers and commissionaires, cheated by tradesinen, and robbed by their servants. They had, trust us, very little enthusiasm about the Louvre when they were in Paris, and very little about the Vatican when they were in Rome. It is, we think, a principle in human nature, that a man worth a hundred thousand dollars is as little patient under frand and extortion, as a man worth a thousand cents. And rich travelers are the subjects of every kind of fraud and extortion, and, what is worse, they are not “robbed, not knowing what is stolen.” They are painfully conscious under the process. But the man with limited means, who looks hard at his florin before he lets it go, who moves among the people, examines prices with a critical eye, and is not afraid to make bargains beforehand, who speaks the language of the country where he travels, who is his own valet, and does his own errands, he is the contented tourist. He feels like a man, for he knows that no one is fawning on him to the face and leering at him in the sleeve. He may have a harder bed to sleep on, but his sleep is just as sweet and refreshing; he may have simpler fare, but it shall be as relishable and wholesome. The tourist must not be impoverished: that would spoil all but his story after he got home; a plethoric purse is not so much a misfortune as an exignous one. There are places where one can lodge in London for six cents a night; but no reader of these pages need be warned against seeking them out. There are places where you can breakfast in Paris for four cents, and dine for seven; our readers will hardly go to them for entertainment. Eleven cents buy a good breakfast, and twenty a good dinner there, and no reader of this will suffer on such fare. If.

you are willing to live as well as you live at home, in our simple, hearty American style, you can go to Europe, travel largely, see everything, and return much enriched in mind, and not much impoverished in purse.


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