AUGUST, 1895—MAY, 1896 PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR CHICAGO 1902 DEDICATED TO MY GRANDSONS John and Hunt Wentworth...

I must acknowledge that I hesitate to place this manuscript in print. It has been a struggle for me in my declining days, with impaired health and imperfect vision; but my desire is that my grandsons, John and Hunt Wentworth, to whom I dedicate this book, may glean from its leaves some knowledge and, perhaps, it may create a desire to take the same trip some day, having first gained for themselves a storehouse of knowledge with which they may be enabled to see the Orient and other foreign lands

Chicago , August 19, 1895. Have you ever had a desire so great that it became a controlling influence, and when that desire or wish was gratified and that day dream became a reality to feel an overwhelming sadness—a heart failure? If so, you can realize how on August 19, 1895, at 6:30 p. m., I left Chicago with a heavy heart for a voyage around the world in company with my brother, his wife and son, the latter just relieved from college life. We arrived in St. Paul in time for breakfast, the tra

Steamer Empress of Japan, Yellow Sea , October 4, 1895. Seated at the table with the first officer, who proves most loquacious and intelligent, we discuss the "Prince of Wales," the English rule in foreign lands and the works of George D. Curzon, a man of great expectations and great possibilities. He loaned me "Problems of the Far East," which I found most entertaining, clear and authentic. On my left are seated Dr. and Mrs. Ashmore. The former has been forty-five years in the missionary field

The trip from Jeypore to Bombay was the most tedious of any made in India, as we made no stops. It took us from 10:30 p. m. Monday till 8:30 p. m. on Wednesday. The road was monotonous and dusty; however, the nights were cool and comfortable. Our compartment, although commodious, was covered with, it seemed, the dust of ages, but on pointing it out to our stupid servant he immediately took off his turban of white cheese cloth and mopped with it the seats and floor, shook off the dust, literally,

The Arabian sea is to me a reminder of tranquility; the thought of no more temples to see, no more heights to climb, no poor, wretched beings, whose only existence is prolonged agony to behold, for at least from the hour of sailing, 12 a. m., on Saturday, 14th of December, 1895, until we reach Ismalia, Saturday, December 21, at 12:30 p. m., what blissful anticipation, and so fully realized on this quiet trip. A snug, cool cabin all to myself, which opened into a private hallway with a great open

And now we are in Ismalia, our sailing port. Two steamers are momentarily expected; one bound for Brindisi, the other for Marseilles. The poor hotel accommodations were emphasized when this avalanche of people came down upon them. After baggage was identified and there was no room in the inn for many of us, I selected a sofa in the drawing room, on which to rest till the signal was given that the "Caledonia" was in sight. It was not a bed of roses, but many around me had a worse accommodation; b

We now bid "au revoir" to Paris, and cross the English channel, from Calais to Dover, without any great inconvenience. And mighty Neptune did not call on us for many returns of the day. We proceed from Charing Cross station to the hotel of the same name, where we remain until we obtain more pleasant surroundings in the west end of London. Daily excursions, always on top of omnibuses, when there were seats for us, run to the Picadilly, Pall Mall, down Regent and Oxford streets and into Dickens' h