rich carpet golden with buttercups and daisies, the cows quietly feeding in a veritable paradise to them. Then there are all manner of odd corners and irregular clusters of houses, but everywhere the most intense vegetation. The little cottage occupied by Byron, who used often to resort to this lovely spot, was pointed out to me, and Harrow, where he went to school. We had much interesting conversation. In the omnibus I parted from the doctor with real regret, but quite refreshed by the cordial intercourse.
Journey to Paris.—All my teachers and medical
friends in America had strongly advised my going to
Paris, as the one place where I should be able to
find unlimited opportunities for study in any branch
of the medical art. Being then desirous of pursuing
surgery as well as medicine, I followed their advice.
On May 21, 1849, with a very slender purse and
few introductions of any value, I found myself in the
unknown world of Paris, bent upon the one object
of pursuing my studies, with no idea of the fierce
political passions then smouldering amongst the
people, nor with any fear of the cholera which was
then threatening an epidemic.
Curious glimpses of this outer world are given in letters sent home at that time.
Paris, 11 Rue de Seine: May 1849.
You see, dear friends, that I have reached my destination at last, and fairly established myself in this strange city. I parted from my kind companion, who in London had spent the whole week in one continued effort to aid me in every possible way, with real gratitude. I could not thank him, words seemed too meaningless. . . . I
