Excerpt from Diary and Notes of Horace Templeton, Late Secretary of Legation, 1848, Vol. 1 of 2
It is a strange tiling to begin a "Log" when the voyage is nigh ended A voyage without chart or compass has it been: and now is land in sight - the land of the weary and heart-tired
Here am I, at the Hotel des Princes, en route for Italy, whither my doctors have sentenced me What a sad record would he preserved to the world if travellers were but to fill up, with good faith, the police formula at each stage of the journey, which asks, "the object of the tour " How terribly often should we read the two short words - "To Die."
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