Brussels July August 1863

Brussels July 15.
We left Spa on the 11, returning by the rich coal districts around Namur and Liege. The banks of the Meuse charmed me as I suppose they do all travelers. We were glad enough to reach home which seemed more comfortable than ever. Spa was becoming rather crowded, and more gamblers arriving every day I am sure. “Poor race of men, How dearly ye pay for your primal fall”.


Brussels July 23.
We are in the midst of the Hermesse of Brussels. The Hermesse is an old fashioned festival, which each city in Belgium still celebrates, at different periods of the year. The 21st was the anniversary of the King’s inauguration, as we have once seen the ceremony in St. Gudule, I did not care to go a second time.
We visited yesterday the “atelier” of the distinguished sculptor.
The monuments on the “Place de la Collone” and the “Place des Martyrs” are by him. The funeral of Bourgemude(?) took place yesterday, and was immense. The La bafsecourriens(?) seemed to regard the day as a “fete”, so little solemnity is there in their obseguies(?).
We are enjoying the fruit season which is quite long. We have had strawberries since May. Cherries are at 30 centimes 6 cents a lb. I hope to preserve some.

Monday August 10 1863
Saturday we feasted on a watermelon, the only one I have seen in Europe. It was large , red and delicious. “La Fruitiere” said it came from Spain. I have seldom enjoyed the fruit season, even at home, more than I now do in Brussels. Willie often takes me to the market, which is indeed a treat.
After my gymnastic lesson on Saturday, (an exercise Dr. Greux has ordered since my hemorrhage) we drove to Uccle a village near Brussels. Where Mr Tinegre(?) has taken a house. Our little pet Marie Caldwell was with us. They gave us a nice lunch, including another nice dish I had not seen since we left home: Cream cheese, or rather claughbrugh. There are so many Estaminets, on the way that the seem at a loss what to name them. One has chose this attractive title, “A la vue du Ciemtiere”. I wonder if the think the Belgians have inherited the tastes of the former Kings of Spain.
Saturday Dr. Greux’s wife and daughter called on me and made themselves agreeable. I asked Mademoiselle if it were true he father no longer practiced except as a a consulting physician. She replied “no, but were it even so he would come for you “ si ce n’elait que le bout de votre doigt, tellement vous touve til charmante.” The good old man has taken a deep interest in me, which I hope he will carry so far as to eradicate my disease. She proposed to Willie to export a colony of “ces belles femmes du Sud”. For added he, “les notressint bien laides.”