The car was not ready for us the next day. Indeed, I found that the
garage was not able to do anything with it, and so telegraphed to
London to have a new radiator sent down C.O.D. It was then I was
thankful that I had an American, _i.e._, a standardized car!
I thought it would be well to take advantage of the delay to make a
little journey by rail to a town near by--that is, near as the crow
flies--to pay a visit to the parents of a lad in the parish at home.
I thought they might like to hear news of him, and I knew it would
give him pleasure to learn that I had seen his people, of whom he had
often spoken.
The trains, however, do not follow the track of the crow, and I found
that what looked like a short journey necessitated two changes and
rather long waits at each junction. I was reminded of a bright
saying of Mrs. Freeman Allen. When her husband was the rector of the
parish at Amherst some one asked her how long she had been there.
She answered: "Seven years." But her husband said: "No, dear, you
are mistaken, only five years." To which she replied: "You forget,
dear, the time spent at Palmer!"
I reached my destination at about noon. Captain Burchell, the father
of my young friend, is a retired naval officer, and proved to be one
of the most silent men I had ever met. After he had examined my
credentials he called his wife, and, having invited me to stay to
lunch, evidently felt he had done his duty--and what more does
England expect from any sailor! Nevertheless, no one could look at
that strong face without seeing that he was one of that fine body of
men who have kept alive the spirit of the English navy during the
long years of "inglorious" peace, so that if war ever does come, it
will be ready.
The wife made up for the taciturnity of the husband--perhaps was the
cause of it! She was keenly interested in hearing about her boy, as,
no doubt, the father was too, only she said so, and he did not! It
was years since they had seen him, and probably had given up hope of
ever seeing him again, and were reconciled.
I suggested that as it was now an easy thing to make the journey, she
might be induced to go out to him. But at this she cried out. How
strange it is that the English, who are the masters of the sea, have
such a dread of it! Perhaps it is because they have lost so many at
sea, but whatever may be the reason, it is a fact that the average
Englishwoman--and the same is almost as true of men--seems to think
that a trip to New York is as dreadful as the voyage of Columbus.
But I soon found that there were other reasons besides the "perils of
the great deep" that alarmed the gentle lady.
"I should be afraid of brigands," she said.