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Still he looks as if he were something already; that is, he has a kind of self-reliance in his mien, not self-assertion, nor self-esteem, but belief in self, as if he were able, and knew that he was able, to conquer circumstances. GLOUCESTER, June 10 The Bell. Nothing accomplished yet. Her aunt is a Van Tyck, and a stiff one, too. I am a Copley, and that delays matters.
With a shudder we saw him borne to his last rrest, for we realized that had yt not bbeen for Absalom's Capel Curig we had bbeen bburied yn an unpronounceable Welsh ggrave. We are in Bristol after a week's coaching in Wales; the Jack Copleys, Tommy Schuyler, Mrs. Jack's younger brother, and Miss Van Tyck, Mrs.
The very vision of Miss Celia Van Tyck sitting on a balcony surrounded by a group of friends from the various Boston suburbs, the vision of Miss Celia Van Tyck melting into delicious distance with every movement of our gondola, even this was sufficient for Salemina's happiness and mine, had it been accompanied by no more tangible joys.
Found my nut-brown mayde at once on the pages of the Royal Garden Inn register: "Miss Celia Van Tyck, Beverly, Mass.; Miss Katharine Schuyler, New York." I concluded to stay over another train, ordered dinner, and took an altogether indefensible and inconsistent pleasure in writing "John Quincy Copley, Cambridge, Mass.," directly beneath the charmer's autograph.
There were a good many trifling objections to our leaving Miss Van Tyck and the hotel, but we scarcely remembered them until we and our luggage were skimming across the space of water that divides Venice from our own island.
Her knowledge never bulks heavily and insistently in the foreground or middle- distance, like that of Miss Celia Van Tyck, but remains as it should, in the haze of a melting and delicious perspective. She has plenty of enthusiasms, too, and Miss Van Tyck has none. Imagine our plight at being accidentally linked to that encyclopaedic lady in Italy!
As Wordsworth had written a sonnet about it, aunt Celia was armed for the fray, a volume of Wordsworth in one hand, and one of Hawthorne in the other. The cramming process over, we wandered along, and came upon "him" sketching a shady corner of the walk. Aunt Celia went up behind him, and, Van Tyck though she is, she could not restrain her admiration of his work.
"My niece did not come to Europe for a London season," replied Miss Van Tyck. "We go through London this time merely as a cathedral town, simply because it chances to be where it is geographically. We shall visit St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey, and then go directly on, that our chain of impressions may have absolute continuity and be free from any disturbing elements."
Atlas: "Great Jove, what a concession! So you all like her?" Aunt Celia: "She is not what I consider a well-informed girl." Penelope: "Now don't carp, Miss Van Tyck. You love her as much as we all do. 'Like her, indeed! I detest the phrase.
She is an old acquaintance of Salemina's and joined us in Florence, where she had been staying for a month, waiting for her niece Kitty Schuyler, Kitty Copley now, who is in Spain with her husband. Miss Van Tyck would be endurable in Sheffield, Glasgow, Lyons, Genoa, Kansas City, Pompeii, or Pittsburg, but she should never have blighted Venice with her presence.
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