_My father in 1870 went to America for the first time. His time was so
much occupied there that he could write only home letters. My mother
has allowed me to make extracts from these, thinking that they serve to
introduce his later letters from America, which were addressed to the
_Spectator_._
_It was owing to the fact of my father’s having publicly taken the side
of the North in the Civil War that his reception in the United States in
1870 was so particularly warm and hearty._
Peruvian, 6.45 p.m.
Here I am, in my officer’s cabin, a small separate hole in our little
world on the water, all to myself. At this moment I look out of my
porthole and see the Welsh mountains coming out against a bed of
daffodil sky, for though it has been misty all day it is now a lovely
clear evening. The sea is quite calm, and there is scarcely any motion
in the ship. The tea-bell is ringing, so I must stop for a little, but
I shall have plenty of time to tell you all that has happened as yet,
as we shall be lying off Londonderry nearly all day to-morrow. The mail
does not come off to us till about 5 P.M., and we shall be there about
nine in the morning or thereabouts. I may perhaps run up to Derry to
see the old town and the gate and walls, etc., sacred to the glorious,
pious, and immortal memory of the great and good king William.
8.45 p.m.
Tea was excellent, and afterwards R------ and I went on deck, and saw
the sun go down gloriously in the line of our ship’s course; we were
steaming right up a great road of fire. The sea gets calmer and calmer,
and, in fact, there couldn’t be less movement if we were in Greenwich
reach. So now for the narrative of all my adventures since I left you at
the window. The moment we got on board, there was the rush and scramble
for places at the saloon table, which Harry I------ warned me about. We
were on board amongst the first, but agreed not to join the scramble,
taking any places that might happen to be going. There is something so
ludicrously contemptible to me in seeing people eagerly and seriously
struggling about such matters that I am quite unable to join in the
worry. I doubt if I could even if the ship were going down, and we were
all taking to the boats. It isn’t the least from any virtuous or
heroic feeling, but simply from the long dwelling in the frame of mind
described in a chapter in _Past and Present_. When every one had taken
the seats they liked, we settled down very comfortably into two which
were vacant, and which, for all I can see, are as good as any of the
rest.