'Heaven bless and keep you safe, my own Possum. I shall not stay long because I can't possibly get on without you,' moaned Livy, clinging to the departing treasure as Diogenes might have clung to his honest man, if he ever found him; for, with better luck than the old philosopher, Livy had searched long years for a friend to her mind, and got one at last. 'Don't be sentimental, girls' said Matilda, with tears in her eyes, as she hugged her Mandy, and bore her to the cab. 'Rome and Raphael for ever!' cried Amanda, as a cheerful parting salute. 'London and Turner!' shouted Matilda with her answering war-cry. 'Boston and Emerson!' sobbed Lavinia, true to her idols even in the deepest woe. Then three damp pocket-handkerchiefs waved wildly till the dingy cab with the dear Egyptian nose at the window, and the little bath-pan clattering frantically up aloft, vanished round the corner, leaving a void behind that all Europe could not fill. A few weeks later Livy followed, leaving Mat to enjoy the liberty with which American girls may be trusted when they have a purpose or a profession to keep them steady. And so ended the travels of the trio, travels which had filled a year with valuable experiences, memorable days, and that culture which a larger knowledge of the world, our fellow-men, and ourselves gives to the fortunate souls to whom this pleasure is permitted. One point was satisfactorily proved by the successful issue of this partnership; for, in spite of many prophecies to the contrary, three women, utterly unlike in every respect, had lived happily together for twelve long months, had travelled unprotected safely over land and sea, had experienced two revolutions, an earthquake, an eclipse, and a flood, yet met with no loss, no mishap, no quarrel, and no disappointment worth mentioning. With this triumphant statement as a moral to our tale, we would respectfully advise all timid sisters now lingering doubtfully on the shore, to strap up their bundles in light marching order, and push boldly off. They will need no protector but their own courage, no guide but their own good sense and Yankee wit, and no interpreter, if that woman's best gift, the tongue, has a little French polish on it. Dear Amandas, Matildas, and Lavinias, why delay? Wait on no man, but take your little store and invest it in something far better than Paris finery, Geneva jewellery, or Roman relics. Bring home empty trunks, if you will, but heads full of new and larger ideas, hearts richer in the sympathy that makes the whole world kin, hands readier to help on the great work God gives humanity, and souls elevated by the wonders of art and the diviner miracles of Nature. Leave _ennui_ and discontent, frivolity and feebleness, among the ruins of the Old World, and bring home to the New the grace, the culture, and the health which will make American women what now they just fail of being, the bravest, brightest, happiest, and handsomest women in the world.