[18] A short list of the chief titles will include Longfellow's "Hyperion" (1839), Willis's "Loiterings of Travel" (1840), Taylor's "Views Afoot" (1846), Curtis's "Nile Notes of a Howadji" (1851), Mrs. Stowe's "Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands" (1854), Emerson's "English Traits" (1856), Bryant's "Letters from Spain and Other Countries" (1859), Norton's "Notes of Travel and Study in Italy" (1859), Hawthorne's "Our Old Home" (1863), Howells's "Venetian Life" (1866), Mark Twain's "Innocents Abroad" (1869), and so on down to and beyond Holmes's "Our Hundred Days in Europe" (1887). As an impressionable young American he fell into the declining sentimentalism of the period and wrote characteristically to his mother: "I look forward to the distant day of our meeting until my heart swells into my throat and tears into my eyes. I cannot help thinking that it is a pardonable weakness." He was so absorbed by all he was seeing and learning that he wrote no verse, letting the days go by until he concluded with the overwhelming seriousness of twenty-two that his poetic career was finished. As a matter of fact he was just complementing his native American feeling with a sense of the glamour of Old World civilization, and was on the way toward combining the two as poet and professor. Returning to his old college he taught there until in 1836 he was invited to succeed Professor George Ticknor at Harvard, again with the condition--implied if not imposed--that he go abroad for study. On his second sojourn he extended his knowledge to the Germanic languages, mastering them as thoroughly as he had French, Spanish, and Italian. In the end he is said to have had a fluent speaking control of eight tongues, with the power to "get along in" six more, and to read yet another six. Until 1854 he was engaged in his duties at Harvard, giving no little instruction, engaging all his assistants, and personally supervising their teaching. It was an irksome routine against which he began to rebel many years before he shook himself free. "It is too much to do for one's daily bread, when one can live on so little," he wrote in 1839. "I must learn to give up superfluous things and devote myself wholly to literature." And in the same year he referred in another letter to "poetic dreams shaded by French irregular verbs."