He is tall, slender, with blue eyes, brown
hair, and a hale, well-browned face, and somewhat loose-jointed
withal. His wife is a real Spanish beauty.
How we did talk and go on for three days! I guess he is tired. I'm
sure we were. He is a nervous, excitable being, and talks with head,
shoulders, arms, and hands, while his hesitance makes it the harder.
Of his theology I will say more some other time. He, also, has been
through the great distress, the "Conflict of Ages," but has come out
at a different end from Edward, and stands with John Foster, though
with more positiveness than he.
He laughed a good deal at many stories I told him of father, and
seemed delighted to hear about him. But he is, what I did not expect,
a zealous Churchman; insists that the Church of England is the finest
and broadest platform a man can stand on, and that the thirty-nine
articles are the only ones he could subscribe to. I told him you
thought them the best summary (of doctrine) you knew, which pleased
him greatly.
Well, I got your letter to-night in Paris, at No. 19 Rue de Clichy,
where you may as well direct your future letters.
We reached Paris about eleven o'clock last night and took a carriage
for 17 Rue de Clichy, but when we got there, no ringing or pounding
could rouse anybody. Finally, in despair, we remembered a card that
had been handed into the cars by some hotel-runner, and finding it was
of an English and French hotel, we drove there, and secured very
comfortable accommodations.
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