His readings everywhere were crowned with enthusiastic success, and if
his strength had been equal to his will, he could have stayed in America
another year, and occupied every night of it with his wonderful
impersonations. I regretted extremely that he felt obliged to give up
visiting the West. Invitations which greatly pleased him came day after
day from the principal cities and towns, but his friends soon discovered
that his health would not allow him to extend his travels beyond
Washington.
He sailed for home on the 19th of April, 1868, and we shook hands with
him on the deck of the Russia as the good ship turned her prow toward
England. He was in great spirits at the thought of so soon again seeing
Gad's Hill, and the prospect of a rest after all his toilsome days and
nights in America. While at sea he wrote the following letter to me:--
Aboard The Russia, Bound For Liverpool, Sunday, 26th April, 1868.
My Dear Fields: In order that you may have the earliest intelligence
of me, I begin this note to-day in my small cabin, purposing (if it
should prove practicable) to post it at Queenstown for the return
steamer.
We are already past the Banks of Newfoundland, although our course
was seventy miles to the south, with the view of avoiding ice seen
by Judkins in the Scotia on his passage out to New York. The Russia
is a magnificent ship, and has dashed along bravely. We had made
more than thirteen hundred and odd miles at, noon to-day. The wind,
after being a little capricious, rather threatens at the present
time to turn against us, but our run is already eighty miles ahead
of the Russia's last run in this direction,--a very fast one. ...To
all whom it may concern, report the Russia in the highest terms. She
rolls more easily than the other Cunard Screws, is kept in perfect
order, and is most carefully looked after in all departments. We
have had nothing approaching to heavy weather; still, one can speak
to the trim of the ship. Her captain, a gentleman; bright, polite,
good-natured, and vigilant.....
As to me, I am greatly better, I hope. I have got on my right boot
to-day for the first time; the "true American" seems to be turning
faithless at last; and I made a Gad's Hill breakfast this morning,
as a further advance on having otherwise eaten and drunk all day
ever since Wednesday.
You will see Anthony Trollope, I dare say. What was my amazement to
see him with these eyes come aboard in the mail tender just before
we started! He had come out in the Scotia just in time to dash off
again in said tender to shake hands with me, knowing me to be aboard
here. It was most heartily done. He is on a special mission of
convention with the United States post-office.
We have been picturing your movements, and have duly checked off
your journey home, and have talked about you continually. But I have
thought about, you both, even much, much more. You will never know
how I love you both; or what you have been to me in America, and
will always be to me everywhere; or how fervently I thank you.
All the working of the ship seems to be done on my forehead. It is
scrubbed and holystoned (my head--not the deck) at three every
morning. It is scraped and swabbed all day. Eight pairs of heavy
boots are now clattering on it, getting the ship under sail again.
Legions of ropes'-ends are flopped upon it as I write, and I must
leave off with Dolby's love.
Thursday, 30th.
Soon after I left off as above we had a gale of wind, which blew all
night. For a few hours on the evening side of midnight there was no
getting from this cabin of mine to the saloon, or _vice versa,_ so
heavily did the sea break over the decks. The ship, however, made
nothing of it, and we were all right again by Monday afternoon.
Except for a few hours yesterday (when we had a very light head
wind), the weather has been constantly favorable, and we are now
bowling away at a great rate, with a fresh breeze filling all our
sails. We expect to be at Queenstown between midnight and three in
the morning.
I hope, my dear Fields, you may find this legible, but I rather
doubt it; for there is motion enough on the ship to render writing
to a landsman, however accustomed to pen and ink, rather a difficult
achievement. Besides which, I slide away gracefully from the paper,
whenever I want to be particularly expressive.....
----, sitting opposite to me at breakfast, always has the following
items: A large dish of porridge, into which he casts slices of
butter and a quantity of sugar. Two cups of tea. A steak. Irish
stew. Chutnee, and marmalade. Another deputation of two has
solicited a reading to-night. Illustrious novelist has
unconditionally and absolutely declined.
More love, and more to that, from your ever affectionate friend,