Excerpt from The Catholic World, 1921, Vol. 112 The tourist [she declares] be he of right mettle, falls in love with the world, and with the Will which sustains it. As much solace or exhilaration as comes into the eye and ear, so much evil, in the form of sadness, rebellion, ignor ance, passes out from us, as breathed breath into the purer air. There is but one thing which can honorably draw the heart out of an American in Europe. He has wrought for himself the white ideal of government; he belongs to a growing, not a decaying society; there is much without upon which he looks with wonder and even with pity. But one thing he sees far away which he can never live to call his, in the West; he cannot transfer hither the yester day of his own race, the dark charm of London, the glamour of Paris, the majesty and melancholy of Rome. And that which makes the worthy pilgrim into an exile and a cosmopolite is no vanity, no ambition, no mere rest less energy: it is truly the love of man which calleth over seas, and from towers a great way off. His shrine is some common and unregarded place, a mediaeval stair, it may be, worn hollow as a gourd by the long procession of mortality. That concave stone touches him and makes his blood tingle: it has magic in it, of itself, without a record; for it speaks of the transit of human worth and human voices, both of which Dante makes his Ulysses long for and seek to understand. It is our sunken footfall, ages ere we were born, while we were on forgotten errands, nursing irre coverable thoughts. To have marked it, with perhaps the largest emotion of our lives, is to walk Broadway or a Texan tow-path humbler and better ever after. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.