There were many good times to be enjoyed as they went along on their journeys. They kept a bright lookout for ruins and all things that would touch into life their memories of English romance and poetry. They saw that “city of colleges,” Oxford, which seemed to them a veritable mountain of museums, colleges, halls, courts, parks, chapels, and lecture rooms. They took dinner at the White Hart Inn, where the scene of Shakespeare’s “Merry Wives” was laid; they wandered through chambers hung with tapestries woven to tell the tale of _Medea_ and _Jason_; they had a pleasant drive in Hyde Park as Harriet had read of the heroines of romance doing in old novels; they felt sincere “dispositions to melancholies” beside the churchyard where the “Elegy” was composed, and found out only later that their tears had been shed at the wrong churchyard! They rode on the coach top and listened to the stories told by the driver just as they would have done in their own country; they visited the fishing ground of old Isaak Walton; they went through the great palace at Windsor, and there, above all the splendors they were chiefly interested in one little wicker baby-carriage they happened to see standing waiting for its occupant! All the great works of art Mrs. Stowe saw moved her tremendously; they satisfied a lifelong hunger. How the lofty arches of the cathedrals touched her heart! She realized at once that these triumphs of architectural art give aspiration its noblest symbol, and she found a preparation of mind for religious emotions in the dusky choirs and the flame-like arches gorgeous with evening light. Then when she crossed to the continent and entered the galleries and saw the paintings there and on the walls of the churches, she was again astonished, delighted, and satisfied as never before. She was especially overcome when she saw the “Descent from the Cross” by Rubens. She said: “Art has satisfied me at last. I have been conquered and that is enough.” This was said before she went to Italy, where further enjoyments awaited her in later journeys. A young student of life wishing to make a visit to the great storehouses of delight in art and history in the European world and not able to cross the ocean for the purpose, could not do better than read these perfectly sincere and vital comments upon art, history and things in general found in Mrs. Stowe’s “Sunny Memories.”