- Project Runeberg -  Reminiscences : the Story of an Emigrant /
145

(1891) [MARC] Author: Hans Mattson
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Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - XIV. I am Appointed Consul-General to India—Assassination of Garfield—Departure for India—My Stay in Chicago and Washington—Paris and Versailles—Rome—Naples—Pompeii—From Naples to Alexandria—Interesting Acquaintances on the Voyage—The First Impressions in Egypt

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Story of an Emigrant.

3 35

splendid banquet in my honor. About sixty of us spent a
most delightful evening around the bountiful table; but
what I prized more highly than anything else were the
friendly and cordial feelings which were expressed in speech
and song.

In Washington I spent a few days in order to receive the
last instructions from the state department. Hon. W.
Win-dom, who was secretary of the treasury under the
administration of Garfield, accompanied me to the White house,
where th? president was yet hovering between life and
death. Wre were not admitted to the inner room, which was
separated from the front room only by draperies. I can
vividly recall the picture of the president’s noble wife as she
stepped out to us, and, with an expression of the deep"
est suffering, affection and hope in her face, told us
that the patient had taken a few spoonfuls of broth, and
that he now felt much better, and would soon
recover-Thus life and hope often build air-castles which are
destined to be torn down again by the cruel hand of fate.

When the steamer touched the coast of Ireland the first
news which the eager passengers received was that the
president was still living and had been taken to a place on the
coast. The voyage across the Atlantic from New York to
Liverpool was a pleasure trip in every respect, and was
favored by the most delightful weather. On board the White
Star Line steamer Celtic,—a veritable palace of its kind,—
the passenger had all he could wish, as far as solidity,
speed, reliability, order, comfort, and good treatment are
concerned. On September 9th I arrived in Paris. It seemed
to me as if it had been only a couple of days since I was
sitting in the midst of that happy company of friends in
Chicago, whose tender and cordial farewell still sounded as an
echo in my ears—or maybe in my heart. Nevertheless I was

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