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expressed in meeting him, to their hearty admiration for the man and for his works. I will quote, because I have leave to quote, what was said to me respecting his book on India by Mr. Meredith Townsend, one of the Editors of The Spectator, an Anglo-Indian of fourteen years' residence, who knows India as few men know it: "Bayard Taylor's is the only book I ever saw on India in which I found no mistake."
I last saw Mr. Taylor in Paris, whither he came for the opening of the Exhibition on his way to Berlin.  He had by no means recovered from the fatigue imposed upon him by the long series of well meant kindnesses which marked his farewell to America.  The letters, the public festivals, the dinners, all the manifestations of private friendship and public admiration which had been lavished on him had laid a great strain on his already overtaxed system.  None the less was he profoundly touched by them and sensible of the friendliness which prompted them.  He spoke of them repeatedly and with emotion as one of the most precious experiences of his life.  He spoke of his appointment to Berlin in the tone of a man who was modestly conscious of his worth, who knew the the distinction, brilliant as it was, had been fairly earned, but who was none the less grateful for it.  He knew that he was fit for the place, and that the honor bestowed on him was one to which he in turn was able to do honor.  He had a just pride in hearing his name associated with the names of Irving, of Motley, of Marsh, of Lowell--one and all men who had earned their fame in literature before they became diplomatists.  He was far too frank and open-natured to care to hide his pleasure.  With all his varied and ample experience, with all his knowledge of the world and mastery of social conventionalities, Mr. Taylor retained to the last a certain freshness and candor in expressing his inmost feelings which belongs only to those souls that have no mean secrets to keep, no false pride or false modesty.  He was pleased and he was not ashamed of being pleased.  It is only a man very sure of himself who can venture to take the world in his confidence as he did.  Then, as often before, I thought it most honorable to him.  It was consistent with great dignity of demeanor, a whoever fancied he could take advantage of it soon found out his mistake.  He submitted readily and generously to all sorts of slight impositions.  He gave 5 francs for some service which 50 centimes would have rewarded amply.  He would never look too closely into matters where only his own interest was at stake, but where others were concerned, where it was his business to defend interests which had been confided to him, he could be hard, astute, immovable.  That was one of his peculiar merits as a Minister.  In most points no two men could be more unlike than Mr. Taylor and Prince Bismarck, but they had this in common the they told the truth fearlessly, and found it serve their purpose where the most ingenious mystifications would have failed on their end. 
A single incident--which I hope I may now relate without offence to anybody--will show how thoroughly a man of the world he was in the midst of all his simplicity.  On the night of the first of May he went to the Marshal's official reception at the Elysée.  He found himself on arrival absolutely alone.  No one from the Legation in Paris had accompanied him, and no one was at the palace to meet him.  The official arrangements were so meagre that not so much as an usher was there to announce him.  I don't know what had become of that imposing personage, Mr. Mollard, introducteur des ambassadeurs.  Mr. Taylor's colleague did not arrive till later.  With Marshal MacMahon, the President of the French Republic, Mr. Taylor had no acquaintance.  In such circumstances, most men would have gone away, or have mingled quietly with the crowd.  Mr. Taylor made his way to the Marshal, introduced himself by his name and title, paid his due compliment, and asked leave to present his wife and daughter.  The Marshal, whatever his political sins, is quick to recognize manly frankness.  He greeted Mr. Taylor cordially, carried off the party, and presented them to the Duchess, who in turn received them with marked civility.  "I thought," said Mr. Taylor, in describing the incident to me, "that I had no choice. It was known that I was in Paris, and had been asked to this ceremony.  If I had gone away without making myself known, my supposed absence would have been set down as a piece of rudeness or carelessness, and I was determined that no such charge should be brought against a Minister of the American Republic when he was in the Capital of a foreign Republic."  He made absolutely no observation on the singularity of his position--on his being left to do for himself what somebody else might have done for him.  I don't think it occurred to him that any neglect had been shown him.  He was concerned with nothing but the discharge of his duty. He did it, let me add, after a day of great fatigue, and when he was quite ill enough to have excused him for going to bed instead of going to the Elysée.  He had been on foot all the morning and afternoon at the opening ceremony, missed his carriage and walked home, arriving in a state of exhaustion.
To this brief notice of recent incidents and impressions, let me add a word about Mr. Taylor's achievements in journalism.  He has a secure fame in literature quite apart from that, but none the less may his newspaper work be commended to the student as a model in its kind. A great deal of it is in the memory of your readers, but his colleagues and comrades knew the merit of it better than any outsider could know it.  His correspondence was more or less under his own name, and its qualities are not less admirable than rare.  His editorial work might not be so generally recognized, but anybody who will turn back to the studies of European politics, which he contributed to your columns of late years, will be struck by the wide and exact knowledge of affairs he displayed, and by a judgment and foresight which are anything but common in political essays meant for daily consumption.  My obligations to him are many.  I learned much from him, but neither from him nor from any other source have I learned how to express my sense of the loss that has befallen his friends and his country. 
   G. W. S. 

17  Went to Tiffanys this morning and bought a beautiful little silver pitcher for Nia's 70th birthday on Friday and had it engraved with her initials and the date.  A young man calling me by name asked if we would not like to see some of the things they showed in Paris at the Exposition when he took us to a private room and showed us some rare and artistic [[ladies?]] with other [[?]] introduced. They were entirely unique and most beautiful. 

[[strikethrough]] Wrote to [[/strikethrough]]
Wednesday Jan. 22. 1879.
Called on Julia Dillon this morning. Have begun a study for a large picture with only a dream of solemn skies, a far reaching shadowy landscape with a sense of mystery brooding over it. If I can