After visiting Rome, Naples, Venice, Verona, and other places of the greatest interest in Italy, Forrest proceeded to Spain, where he spent several delightful weeks. He made Seville his chief headquarters, remembering the old Spanish proverb he had often heard, "Who sees not Seville misses a marvel." One day, while riding on horseback in the suburbs,--it being in the harvest-season,--he passed a vineyard in which the peasants were at work. He saw one man standing with upturned breast and outstretched arms to receive a bunch of grapes which another man was cutting from a vine loaded with clusters so enormous that a single one must have weighed forty or fifty pounds. At this sight he reined in his horse, and his head sank on his bosom. The years rolled back, and he was a boy again. Once more it was a Sunday afternoon in summer, and through the open window of a house in Philadelphia the sunshine was streaming across the floor where a young lad, with a Bible in his hands, was laughing at the picture of two men carrying a bunch of the grapes of Eshcol slung on a pole between them. Again the hand of the mother was on the shoulder of the boy, and her dark eyes fixed on his, and in his soul he heard, as distinctly as though spoken audibly to his outward ear, the words, "Edwin, never laugh at the fancied ignorance and absurdity of another, when perhaps the ignorance and absurdity are all your own." The tears ran down his cheeks as, starting up his horse, he said to himself, "Ah, mother, mother! dear good soul, how wise and kind you were! What a fool I was!" From Spain Forrest returned for a flying visit to Paris, where he wrote the following letter to his mother, which may be taken as a specimen of the large number he sent to her during his absence: "PARIS, July 3d, 1835. "MY DEAR MOTHER,--Your letter of the 27th of May has this moment reached me. How happy has the perusal of it made me! You write that you have been sick, but that now you are well. How glad I am to hear that you are restored! It is the dearest wish of my heart that health and happiness may always be preserved to you,--to you and to my dear sisters. Your welfare makes existence doubly sweet to me. I bear a 'charmed life' so long as you live and smile. All that I am I owe to you. Your necessities prompted my ambition; your affection led me on to triumph,--the harvest is your own, and my choicest wish is that you may long live to enjoy it. I was in Naples the 9th of March last, the anniversary of my birthday, and you were not forgotten. I drank a cup of wine to you, and my heart grew proud while it acknowledged you the source of its creation.