Percival Lowell
PARIS
Nothing was nicer to hear than the echo of pleasure which breakfasted with me this morning in the letter from New York of the 17th—the letter that bore upon its cover the heads of three gentlemen in three colors, not inappropriate. Franklin
of evergreen memory; Washington ,well read of; Lincoln making one feel blue.
I am glad my letters and postals are beginning, the carrier-pigeons, to come in; for many have gone. I have tried not to miss a steamer—though I have, but I have also duplicated some.
Today I pilgrimage out to Bellevue, Meudon to déjeuner with Deslandres and Flammarion. Yesterday a telegram from the former came to me here to do so, and I said I would. I shall take one of those bateaux mouches which I do not fancy; toil up in spirit, the funiculaire, and return the same way perhaps with Flammarion qui sait. My soul, or sole, is fast wearing out with Europe, and I know of no place but home to have both repaired. My cable "sailing Lorraine first" will have apprised you of the fact that I am trying a new line. Hope it won't prove too trying, nor the weather in New York and Boston later. Here it is fairly cool if nothing else.
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