IN October following his return from abroad, Governor Harriman began to write his book of travels. He applied himself closely, writing day and night. But the labor was a pleasure. The book was ready for the printers in February, 1883, and was within a few months brought out in beautiful style by the eminent publishers, Lee & Shepard, of Boston, with the full title: "Travels and Observations in the Orient, and a Hasty Flight in the Countries of Europe." It found a welcome reception, and a second edition was issued a few months after the first. Some idea of the matter, style, and spirit of this delightful book may be gained from the flying sketch of its author's travels contained in the preceding chapter, and given very much in direct quotation of his own words. The few critical notices, selected from many, which follow, will also serve to indicate the leading characteristic merits of the work, as well as the favorable impression produced by it upon intelligent read ers: [From the "Boston Home Journal."] Ex-Governor Harriman will be readily called to mind, by those who were old enough to take a personal interest in the stirring times preceding and during the rebellion, for the splendid service that he did for the cause of freedom and for the Union. By his own efforts he personally raised a regiment of volunteers in New Hampshire, and how many more thousands he was instrumental in sending to the front through the magnetic power of his fervid, patriotic eloquence and example, it would be hard to compute. A man of high culture, of broad views, wonderful eloquence combined with a logical, practical mind, with the ready use of keen wit, he was eminently adapted to be a leader among men, and to reach the understanding and hearts of the people. While his thoughts were clothed in elegant language, he never soared to the realms of the undefinable and incomprehensible, but went directly to the hearts of his hearers, were they learned or unlearned. These admirable qualities are delightfully apparent in the volume before us. General Harriman's early education was in the direction of the ministry, and his reading and study of the history of early Christianity, and the sacred and interesting places of its birth and struggles, fired his imagination, and begat within him a desire, which strengthened with the passing years, to make a pilgrimage to the Orient, especially to Palestine. A year ago this life wish of General Harriman was gratified, and the result is that the public is greatly the gainer by the appearance of this sumptuous volume, in which the gifted author has produced one of the most picturesque and deeply interesting accounts of the Holy Land that we have ever seen, together with sketches of prominent European cities that are as fresh and readable as though no line had ever been perused concerning these old historic localities. Much of history and biography is woven in with admirable effect. [From the "New Hampshire Patriot."] Ex-Governor Harriman's book of travels has just been issued. It is an elegant volume, and is characterized throughout by the governor's vivid and racy style of description. The reader himself becomes a traveler in the pages of this book; that is, he passes, by the author's power of description, through all the scenes in company with the writer. You traverse the vales of Palestine, scent the odorous spice air of Damascus, and see the dark-eyed peasant girls drawing water at eventide, almost in reality. There are no long, prosy descriptions, no dull monotony under the disguise of matter of fact, but the pages glow with color and move with life. [From the "Christian Leader," Boston.] The royal type in which ex-Governor Walter Harriman tells the story of his "Travels and Observations in the Orient" is accompanied with a yet higher attraction in the racy perspicuity with which he tells the story. To read him seems like sitting upon a piazza while our friend of thirty-five years tells of the scenes and incidents of a remarkably extended travel in the most weird parts of the civilized and partially civilized world. We have seldom taken in hand a book that had so little of the consciousness of rhetoric, and that came so near the familiarity and unpretentiousness of talking. That tour-his life wish-and its record were, as he anticipated they might be, "the last work of his life." And certainly herein was a graceful close to that career of varied activities which he had run so well. It was indeed fortunate for him to find it congenial and possible thus to round life with achievement that crowned with new honor an honored old age. That long, brave trip, taken in his declining days, and followed by intense application to the work of recording it, was a severe strain upon bodily strength manfully incurred and never weakly regretted by him. While abroad he had warning that his vigorous physical constitution, fortified by right living, which had stood him in so good stead for the hard work and unusual exposure of a busy and eventful life, was gradually giving way. In Florence, Italy, on his way to the Orient, while being shown his room at a hotel, he suddenly sank unconscious to the floor at the foot of the staircase. He was soon able, however, to get upon his feet and walk to his room. In Jerusalem he had another attack, and suffered much pain. This was probably the result of heart difficulty, as perhaps the first had been ; but at this time there was no sinking, as at Florence. While engaged in writing his book, after his return, he frequently complained of dizziness; and in January, 1883, while on his way to Washington upon a business errand, he was detained a day or two in New York city by a severe attack similar to that experienced in Jerusalem, and attended with such pain that he thought for a time he might not survive. The next month he had, in the streets of Boston, another sinking turn, like that in Florence. These were alarming precursors; but the rallies of the sufferer were cheerful, and his step brave and steady along that outmost, slippery verge of life. But on the 17th of July, 1883, he was prostrated at his own home beneath the supreme, long-suspended stroke. A perilous clot of fibrine had blocked a life-current in the brain, with the result of serious paralytic derangement. For days life hung in even scale with death. The patient was conscious but speechless, or, when attempting to speak, found not words coherent with ideas: nor could he by writing express intelligibly his thoughts. Sad suspension of powers that had won him success and fame! He could remember, too, how, when smitten, he had supposed that moment to be his last on earth, but felt as unconcerned as if he were dropping into a deep and refreshing sleep.1 Although he made a wonderful and unexpected rally – recovery it cannot be called · - from this attack, it was ap 1 In technical phrase, "the attack was cerebral embolism resulting in aphasia." Embolism is "the obstruction of a vessel by a clot of fibrine, -a frequent cause of paralysis, and of gangrene of the part beyond the obstacle." Aphasia is "a symptom of certain morbid conditions of the nervous system, in which the patient loses the power of expressing ideas by means of words, or loses the appropriate use of words, the vocal organs the while remaining intact and the intelligence sound." His son contributes the following facts: "I arrived from Boston that night [a few hours after the attack], and found him unable to speak. He gathered, from conversation probably between members of the family, that I was going to the depot to send some word to Joseph (Joseph R. Leeson, my sister's husband), in Boston, regarding his condition. He tried to speak and make known his thoughts to me, but could not. He was handed a piece of paper, upon which he wrote the following: "You who can to to depot more than you we mighty who might to Joseph who can." parent to many that his days on earth were hastening to a close. In his walk it was noticed that a rather short, quick step had taken the place of his long, swinging stride. At times, when exercising, he would become short of breath, and complain of a pain in the left side. After the attack of July 17th, although his mind was always perfectly clear, yet he was never fully able to express himself orally or in writing. He was troubled at times to find the right word; in writing he would omit letters in ordinary words; and he had some difficulty in pronunciation. All this caused him some embarrassment, and he did not like to leave his home; though it was not till April, 1884, that he became confined to his house, only riding out occasionally afterwards, as he had a strong desire to do. From that time the decline was gradual but sure. He fully understood his situation, and expected to pass away at any moment. Calmly he awaited the great transition, with the oft-expressed wish that it might come suddenly, and that his days of weariness might not be prolonged. He suffered no particular pain. At first his sleep was troubled, and the nights were hard to bear; but later, through exhaustion, he slept much both day and night. He was cheerful, and in conversation often dropped bright and keen remarks, not unfrequently touched with characteristic humor, while his serious and philosophic reflections deeply impressed all listeners. He found pleasure in reviewing his life and calling up its varied scenes; in speaking of the friends of earlier days; in rambling in thought over the loved hills of Warner, and about the spots where his young feet had strayed. The tender and solicitous affection of his family and of other relatives and friends, gathered about him, warmed and brightened his declining days; and especially was he blessed in the ministrations of his faithful wife, whose energy and courage had been for him an inspiration in the past, and who now, night and day, watched over him with an assiduous devotion never surpassed. And so the weeks rolled away; spring blossomed into summer, and he was still waiting, — waiting, too, without |