resulted in the raising of a gill or so of blood.  I know you will feel interested to hear about him, and will not wonder that our hearts are so full of sympathy for him and for his poor wife, that we can hardly talk of anything else.  He expects her in about a week.  What a coming to Europe for her!  How little those who stand on the shore to watch the departure of a foreign steamer, know what they do when they envy its passengers!...  We buckled on our armor and began sight-seeing the other day, going to see the Sainte Chapelle and the galleries and museum of the Louvre among the rest.  The Sainte Chapelle is quite unlike anything I ever saw and delighted us extremely.  As to the Louvre, one needs several entire days to do justice to it, besides an amount of youthful enthusiasm and bodily strength which we do not possess; for, amid midnight watchings over our sick children and the like, the oil of gladness has about burnt out, and we find sight-seeing a weary task.

May 25th.—­It does seem as if George’s preaching was listened to with more and more serious attention, and it may be seen long after he has rested from his labors on earth, that he has done a good work here.  We both are much interested in Professor [6] Huntington’s sermons, [7] sent us by Miss W. This is a great deal for me to say, because I do not like to read sermons.  During the last three weeks, before Mr. and Mrs. Little left, we accomplished very little.  It was not that we did or could do so very much for them, but they had nobody to depend on but us, and George was constantly going back and forth trying to make them comfortable, arranging all their affairs, etc.  She had a weary, anxious two weeks here, and now has set her face homewards, not knowing but Mr. L. may sink before reaching America.  It is a great comfort to us to have been able to soothe them somewhat as long as they stayed in Paris.  George says it was worth coming here for that alone.  I say we, but I mean George, for what was done he did.  The most I could do was to feel dreadfully for them. [8]

We are now to begin sight-seeing again, and do all we can as speedily as possible, for only two weeks remain.  The children are now pretty well.  The baby is at that dangerous age when they are forever getting upon their feet and tumbling over backward on their heads.  M. is the oddest little soul.  Belle says she would rather go to a funeral than see all the shops in Paris, and, when they are out, she can hardly keep her from following every such procession they meet.  I asked her the last time they went out if she had had a nice walk.  She said not very nice, as she had only seen one pretty thing, and that was a police-officer taking a man to jail.  The idea of going to England is very pleasant, and, if we only keep tolerably well, I think it will do us all good.  What is dear mother doing about these times?  I always think of her as sitting by the little work-table in her room, knitting and watching the children.  Give lots of love and kisses to her, and tell her we long to see her face to face.  Kiss all the children for us—­I suppose they’ll let you! boys and all—­and you may do as much for Mr. S. if you want to.  Good-bye.