[Illustration: Signed:--Geo. H. Heffner]
The Youthful Wanderer;
or An Account of a Tour through England, France, Belgium, Holland, Germany
and the Rhine, Switzerland, Italy, and Egypt
Adapted to the Wants of Young Americans Taking Their First Glimpses at the
Old World
by
Geo. H. Heffner.
1876.
Preface.
It had been fashionable among the ancients, for men of learning to visit
distant countries and improve their education by traveling, after they had
completed their various courses of study in literary institutions, and the
same custom still prevails in Europe at the present time; but in our
country, comparatively few avail themselves of this finishing course. It
is not strange that this should have been so with a people who are
separated from the rest of the world by such wide oceans as we are, which
could, up to a comparatively recent period, only have been crossed at a
sacrifice of much time and money, and at the risk of loosing either life
or health. These difficulties have been greatly reduced by the application
of steam-power to navigation, and the time has come when an American can
make the tour of Europe with but little more expenditure of time and money
than it costs even a native of Europe to do it.
One of my principal objects in writing this book is to encourage others to
make similar tours. We would have plenty of books no traveling, if some of
them did represent the readers in the humbler spheres of life, but the
general impression in America is that no one can see Europe to any
satisfaction in less than a year or two and with an outlay of from a
thousand to two thousand dollars. This is a great mistake. If one travels
for pleasure mainly, it will certainly require a great deal of time and
money, but a hard-working student can do much in a few months. Permit me
to say, that one will see and experience more in two weeks abroad, than
many a learned man in America expects could be seen in a year. I sometimes
give the particulars of sights and adventures in detail, that the reader
may take an example of my experience, for any tour he may propose to make.
The times devoted to different places are given that he may form an
estimate of the comparative importance of different places.
Statistics form a leading feature of this work, and these have been
gathered and compiled with special reference to the wants of the student.
Many an American scholar studies the geography and history of foreign
countries at a great disadvantage, because he can not obtain a general
idea of the institutions of Europe, unless he reads half a dozen works on
the subject. To do this he has not the time. This work gives, in the
compass of a single volume, a general idea of all the most striking
features of the manners, customs and institutions of the people of some
eight different nations speaking as many different languages and dialects.
As the sights that one sees abroad are so radically different from what we
are accustomed to see at home, I feel pained whenever I think of
describing them to any one. If you would know the nature of my
perplexity, then go to Washington and see the stately magnificence of our
National Capitol there, and then go and describe what you have seen to one
who has never seen a larger building than his village church; or go and
see the Centennial Exposition at Philadelphia, and then tell your neighbor
who has never seen anything greater than a county fair, how, what he has
seen compares with the World's Fair! I too am proud of our country, (not
so much for what she now is, but because she promises to become the
greatest nation that ever existed), but it must be confessed, that America
presents little in the sphere of architecture that bears comparison with
the castles, palaces and churches of the Old World. The Capitol at
Washington, erected at the cost of twelve and a half millions, the City
Hall of Baltimore, perhaps more beautiful but less magnificent, and other
edifices that have been erected of late, are structures of which we may
justly be proud; but let us take the buildings of the "Centennial
Exposition" for a standard and compare them with some of those in Europe.
The total expenses incurred in erecting all the exposition buildings, and
preparing the grounds, &c., with all the contingent expenses, is less than
ten million. But St. Peter's in Rome cost nine times, and the palace and
pleasure-garden of Versailles twenty times as much as this! It is safe to
assert, that if a young man had but two hundred dollars with six weeks of
time at his command, and would spend it in seeing London and Paris, he
could never feel sorry for it. _Young student go east._
Contents.
Chapter I.
Leaving Home
New York
Brooklyn--Plymouth Church
Extracts from Henry Ward Beecher's Sermon
Greenwood Cemetery
Barnum's Hippodrome
On Board the "Manhattan"
Setting Sail--The Parting Hour
Sea-Sickness
A Shoal of Whales
Approaching Queenstown--The First Sight of Land
Coasting Ireland and Wales
Personal Incidents--Life-boat, No. 5
Chapter II.
Liverpool
The Mystical Letters "IHS" mean Jesus
The Wonderful Clock of Jacob Lovelace
Chapter III.
Chester--Origin of the Name
The Rows or Second-Story Pavements
The Cathedral and St. John's
The Walls
Birmingham
_Railroads in Europe_
Chapter IV.
Stratford-on-Avon--- Shakespeare's Birthplace
Shottery--Anne Hathaway's Home
Shakespeare's Grave
Chapter V.
Warwick--St. Mary's
Kenilworth Castle
Approaching Coventry--"The Lover's Promenade"
Coventry--Its Fine Churches
Warwick Castle
Oxford--The Great University
Chapter VI.
London.
Its Underground Railroads
Territory, Population and Other Statistics
St. Paul's Cathedral
Crystal Palace
The Houses of Parliament
Westminster Abbey
_Ensigns Armorial, &c._
Sunday in London
Hyde Park--Radical Meeting
The Tower of London
Chapter VII.
London to Paris.
Strait of Dover
Calais
Chapter VIII.
Paris.
Its Railway Stations,
_Lack of Delicacy in Many of the Social Habits and Institutions
Among the People of Warm Countries_
The Boulevards, Rues, &c.
Arcades and Passages
Palais Royal
Its Diamond Windows
The Cafe--A Characteristic Feature of Modern
Civilization
Champs Elysees
Palais de l'Industrie or the Exhibition Buildings
Place de la Concorde and the Obelisk of Luxor
Garden of the Tuileries
The Arch of Triumph
Other Triumphal Arches
The Tomb of Napoleon I
Artesian Wells
Notre Dame Cathedral
The Pantheon
The Madeleine
The Louvre
Theaters and Operas
At a Ball
Incidents
Chapter IX.
St. Cloud
The Palace at Versailles
The Pleasure-Garden
Chapter X.
Leaving Paris
Brussels
The Cathedral
Hotel de Ville
Antwerp
_The Spirit of Revolution_
Notre Dame Cathedral
The Museum
Chapter XI.
Holland.
The Hague
_Cloak-Rooms_
Utrecht
Chapter XII.
Cologne
The Cathedral
The Museum
Depths of Man's Degradation
Bonn
The Kreuzberg
The Drachenfels
Chapter XIII.
Coblentz
Geological Laws
On the Rhine
Frankfort
Darmstadt
Worms
Chapter XIV.
The Palatinate, (_Die Pfalz_).
Mannheim
Neustadt
Heidelberg
The Castle
The Great Tun
Stuttgart
Strassburg
The Black Forest
Chapter XV.
Switzerland.
The Rigi
The Giessbach Falls
The Rhone Glacier
The Grimsel
The Cathedral of Freiburg
Berne
Chapter XVI.
Geneva to Turin
Mont Cenis Tunnel
Italy.
Its Fair Sky and Beautiful People,
Milan
Venice
San Marco
Chapter XVII.
Venice to Bologne
Florence
Pisa
Going Southward
Chapter XVIII.
Rome.
The Colosseum
The Roman Forum
The Site of the Ancient Capitol
"Twelve"
The Temple of Cæsar
The Baths of Caracalla
The Pyramid of Cestius
St. Peter's
The Lateran
Santa Maria Maggiore
Museums
Chapter XIX.
Rome to Brindisi.
Ascent of Mount Vesuvius,
The Ruins of Pompeii
Chapter XX.
On the Mediterranean
Alexandria
Cairo
Wretchedness of the Poorer Classes
The Return Trip
Conclusion
Subjects treated in a general way are distinguished by being rendered in
italics, in this table of contents.
[Illustration: The Keystone State Normal School.]
Chapter I.
Leaving Home.
While engaged in making the preliminary arrangements for leaving soon
after the "Commencement" of the Keystone State Normal School (coming off
June 24th), information was received that the "Manhattan," an old and
well-tried steamer of the Guion Line, would sail from New York for
Liverpool on the 22nd of June. She had been upon the ocean for nine years,
and had acquired the reputation of being "_safe but slow_." As I esteemed
_life_ more precious than _time_, though either of them once lost can
never be recovered, I soon decided to share my fate with her--by her, to
be carried safely to the "farther shore," or with her, to seek a watery
grave.
The idea of remaining for the Commencement, was at once abandoned; short
visits, abrupt farewells, and a hasty preparation for the pilgrimage, were
my portion for the few days still left me, and Saturday, the 19th, was
determined upon as the day for leaving home. It would be evidence of gross
ingratitude to forget the kind wishes, tender good-byes, and many other
marks of attention, on the part of friends and acquaintances, which
characterized the parting hour. Both Literary Societies had passed
resolutions to turn out, and on the ringing of the bell at 6:30 a.m., all
assembled in the Chapel, and addresses were delivered.
Half an hour later, we left in procession for the depot, where we arrived
in time to exchange our last tokens of remembrance--cards, books, bouquets
&c., and shake hands once more.
While the train was moving away, the benedictions and cheers of a hundred
familiar voices rang upon the air, and waving handkerchiefs caught the
echoes even from the distant cupola of the now fast receding Normal School
buildings. A number of torpedoes that had been placed under the wheels of
the locomotive, had already apprised us that the train was in motion, and
would soon hurry us out of sight. During all this excitement of the
parting hour, which seemed to affect some so deeply, I was either looking
into the future, or contemplating the present, rather, from an _active_
than from a _passive_ standpoint; and, as a natural consequence, remained
quite tranquil and composed--my feelings and emotions being at a lower ebb
than they could now be, if the occasion would repeat itself. The idea of
making a tour through Europe and to the Orient, had been continually
revolving in my mind for many years; and now, that I saw the prospect open
of once realizing the happy dreams of my childhood, and the schemes of
early youth, I took no time for contemplating the dangers of sea voyages
or any of the other perils of adventure.
Before we came to Easton, I formed the acquaintance of a Swiss mother,
who seemed much pleased to find one that was about to visit her dear
"Fatherland," where she had spent the sunny days of her childhood. After
giving me directions and letters of introduction, she entreated me very
earnestly to visit her home and kin, and bring them word from her.
New York was reached at 12:10 p.m. As there were but three days remaining
for seeing the city, I immediately began my visits to some of its
principal points of interest. Having first engaged a room at a hotel in
the vicinity of the new Post-Office, I commenced to stroll about, and at
5:30 p.m., entered Trinity Church. Its capacious interior soon disclosed
to me numerous architectural peculiarities, such as are characteristic of
the English parish churches or of cathedrals in general; and which render
old Trinity quite conspicuous among her American sisters. A fee of twelve
cents entitled me to an ascent of its lofty spire, which can be made to
the height of 304 (?) steps, or about 225 feet.
Sunday, June 20th. Rose at 4:30 a.m. and visited Central Park. This being
an importune time for seeing the gay and fashionable life of the city, I
contended myself with a walk to the Managerie, and returned in time to
attend the forenoon service of Plymouth Church, in Brooklyn. I reached the
place before 9:00 o'clock, and formed the acquaintance of a young
gentleman who was a great admirer of the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, and,
being an occasional visitor at this church, knew how to get a seat in that
congregation, which generally closed its doors against the faces of
hundreds, after every available seat was occupied. We at once took our
stand at the middle gate, and there endured the pressure of the crowd for
more than half an hour before the doors opened. We were the first two that
entered, and running up stairs at the head of the dashing throng,
succeeded in making sure of a place in the audience. The church has
seating capacity for about 2,800 adults. All the pews are rented to
members of the congregation by the year, except the outer row of seats
along the three walls; but these are generally all occupied in one or
several minutes after the doors open.
The choir files in at 10:25. A "voluntary" by the organist at 10:30, and
by the choir at 10:32, during which time Mr. Beecher comes in, jerks his
hat behind a boquet stand, and takes his seat. Leads in a prayer in so low
a strain that he can not be understood at any remote place in the
audience. At 10:55 he baptizes eight infants, whose names are passed to
him on cards. Concludes another prayer at 11:20 and announces his text,
"Christ and him crucified." I Cor. ii. 2
Extracts from the Sermon.
"One of Christ's followers once said, 'If all that Christ said and did
were written in books, the world could not contain them. This is an
_exageration_, (_a ripple of laughter dances over the congregation_),
having a great meaning, however." * * * * "David gives us only his
_intense_ life." (_The audience smile_). (11:35). The preacher becoming
dramatic in gesticulation and oratorical in delivery, walks back and forth
upon the elevated platform. While describing the crosses which he saw
yesterday, he becomes highly excited, swinging his arms above his head.
"Crosses everywhere. All the way up street; on every beauty's breast."
(_Explosive laughter_). "Some may have cost $500, others possibly $1,500;
perhaps some cost $2,000." (_Claps his hands in excitement_). "Some say
'the church handed down Christianity'; but I say Christianity kept the
church alive. What was it, that, in the Reformation, made blood such a
sweet manure for souls?" (12:10 p.m.) Pleads earnestly for the weak and
the erring. "A man that has gone wrong, and has nobody to be sorry for it
is lost; pity may save." Sermon concluded at 12:25. Prayer. Dismissal by
singing.
Mr. Beecher's voice is so clear and powerful, that he can be readily
understood in the most distant parts of the house. After leaving church, I
went up to Columbia Heights, the most aristocratic section of Brooklyn,
where I enjoyed myself in contemplating the beautiful and magnificent
buildings which constitute the quiet and charming homes of those wealthy
people living there. How partial Heaven is to some of her children! Thence
I found my way to Greenwood Cemetery, where I spent the remainder of the
day amid the tombs and monuments of "the great city of the dead." Guide
books containing all the carriage roads and foot-paths of that burial
ground, are sold at or near the gate. One of these I procured, and found
it was so perfect in the particulars, that I could readily find the grave
of any one of the many distinguished persons mentioned in the index,
without further assistance whatever. It is impossible here to give an
account of the many splendid tombs and monuments erected there by loving
hearts and skillful hands, in memory of dear friends and relatives that
have "gone away!" What multitudes of strange and curious designs meet the
eye here! Some few perhaps seem odd; but most of them bear appropriate
emblems, and convey sweet thoughts and tender sentiments in behalf of
those "sleeping beneath the sod." What a place for meditation! How quiet,
how solemn! No one should visit New York without allotting at least half a
day to these holy grounds. How I wander from grave to grave! Here I am
struck with the text of an impressive epitaph, and there I see the
delicate and elaborate workmanship of a skillful master. Here my heart is
touched by the sweet simplicity of a simple slab bearing some touching
lines, there I stand in silent admiration before the magnificent
proportions of a towering monument, or sit down to study the meaning of
some obscure design. A mere sketch of all that I saw there would fill a
volume, but I found one monument which I cannot pass by without some
notice. It stands on Hilly Ridge, and was erected to the memory of six
"_lost at sea_, on board the steamer 'Arctic,' Sept. 27th, 1854." These
words arrested my attention, and a minute later, I had ascended the
domical summit of the hill, and stood at the foot of the high monument. It
has a square granite base upon which stand four little red pillars of
polished Russian granite, supporting a transversely arched canopy, with a
high spire. Under the canopy is represented the Ocean and the shipwreck of
the "Arctic." The vessel is assailed by a terrible storm, and fiercely
tossed upon the foaming waves! She has already sprung a leak, and through
the ugly gash admits a copious stream of the fatal liquid, while the
raging sea, like an angry monster, is about to swallow her distined prey!
Down she goes, and among the many passengers on board, are
Grace, _wife of Geo. F. Allen and daughter of James Brown, born Aug.
25th, 1821._
Herbert, _infant child of Geo. F. and Grace Allen, born Sept, 28th,
1853._
William B., _son of James Brown, born April 23rd, 1825._
Clara, _wife of Wm. B. Brown and daughter of Chas. Moulton, born June
30th, 1830._
Clara Alice Jane, _daughter of William B. and Clara Brown, born Aug. 30,
1852._
Maria Miller, _daughter of James Brown, born Sept. 30th, 1833._
What a sad story! As the ship wreck occurred in the fall, it is highly
probable that the party was homeward bound and, had better fortune been
with them, might in a very few days have again been safe and happy in
their respective homes, relating stories of their strange but pleasant
experiences in the Old World. How changed the tale! How their friends must
have been looking and waiting for the "Arctic!" One line told the whole
story, and perhaps all that was ever heard of them, "The 'Arctic' is
wrecked!"
Not far away, on the crown of Locust Hill, sleeps Horace Greeley,
America's great journalist and political economist. At the head of his
grave stands a temporal memorial stone in the form of a simple marble
slab, bearing the inscription, "Horace Greeley, born February 3rd, 1811;
died November 29th, 1872." I left the Cemetery at 7:45 p.m., and returned
to my quarters in New York.
Monday, June 21st. Having procured passage with the "Manhattan," which was
to sail on the morrow, I straightway went to Pier No. 46, North River, _to
take a look at her_! At 12:45 p.m. I stood in the third story of A.T.
Stewart's great dry goods establishment, perhaps the largest of kind in
the world. It is six stories high, and covers nearly two acres of ground.
My next point of destination was Brooklyn Court-House. The afternoon
session opened at 2:00 o'clock, but I did not reach the place until half
an hour later. The court-room was crowded as usual, and many had been
turned away, who stood in knots about the halls and portico, holding the
posts, and discussing politics and church matters. I entered hastily, like
one behind time and in a hurry, and inquired where the court-room was. "It
is crowded to over-flowing, you can not enter," was the reply; but I went
for the reporter's door. A few raps, and it was opened. I offered my card
and asked for a place in the audience as a reporter. The reply was that
the room was already jammed full. But I retained my position in the door
all the same! "What paper do you represent?" asked the door-keeper. "I am
a correspondent of the _National Educator"_ was my response; whereupon he
bid me step in. The court-room was a small one for the occasion, affording
seats for about 400 on the floor, and for 125 more in the gallery. Some
twenty-five or thirty ladies were scattered through the audience. Mr.
Beech, Tilton's senior lawyer, was summing up his closing speech. Tilton
and Fullerton sat immediately behind him, but Mr. Beecher was not in
court. Toward the close of the session there was a kind of "clash of arms"
among the opposing lawyers. Fullerton repeated the challenge previously
made by Beech, offering to prove that corrupt influences were made to bear
upon the jury. The Judge appointed a time for hearing the complaint, and
adjourned the Court.
Barnum's Hippodrome
was visited in the evening, where I saw for the first time on a grand
scale, the charming features of the European _"cafe_" (pronounced
cä'f[=a]'). Here are combined the attractions of the pleasure garden or
public square, with the ornaments and graces of the ball-room and the
opera. It is a magnificent parlor abounding in trees, fountains, statuary
and rustic retreats. Gilmore's large band of seventy-five to a hundred
pieces, occupying an elevated platform in the centre, render excellent
music. Fifteen hundred to two thousand gas jets, eveloped by globes of
different colors (red, white, blue, yellow and green) and blazing from the
curves of immense arches, spanning the Hippodrome in different directions,
illuminate the entire building with the brilliancy of the noon-day sun. To
the right of the entrance is an artificial water-fall about thirty feet
in height. Two stationary engines supply the water, elevating 1,800
gallons per minute, which issues from beneath the arched roof of a
subterranean cavern, and dashing down in broken sheets over a series of
cascades and rapids, plunges into a basin below. From this basin it flows
away into tanks in an other building, where four to five tons of ice are
consumed daily to keep it at a low temperature, so that the vapor and
breeze produced by this ice-water, at the foot of the cataract, refreshes
the air and keeps it cool and pleasant during the warm summer evenings.
The admittance is fifty cents, and 5,000 to 10,000 persons enter every
night, during the height of the season. Here meets "youth and beauty," and
the wealth, gayety and fashion of New York is well represented,
Tuesday, June 22d. I spent the morning in writing farewell letters, and
making the final preparations for leaving. At one o'clock I went on board
the "Manhattan," which was still quite empty. In order to have something
to do by which to while away the slow dull hours yet remaining, I
commenced writing a letter. None of my friends or acquaintances being with
me, I bid all my farewells by note. But such writing! Though the vessel
was locked to the pier by immense cables, still she was anything but
steady. As passengers began to multiply, acquaintances were formed. By and
by the stewart came around, and assigned to us our berths. Ship government
is monarchic in form. The officers have almost absolute authority, and
the passengers, like bashful pupils, do their best to learn the new rules
and regulations and adapt their conduct to them, as soon as possible, so
that nobody may find occasion for making observations or passing remarks.
All these things remind one very much of a first day at school. As
The Parting Hour
approaches, large numbers of the friends and relatives of some of our
passengers, came upon deck to bid good-by. Some cried, others laughed, and
many more _tried_ to laugh. Some that seemed to relish repetition, or were
carried away by enthusiasm and the excitement of the hour, shook hands
over, and over again with the same person. At 3:00 o'clock p.m., the
gangway was lowered and the cables were removed. A shock, a boom, and the
vessel swung away and glided into the river! The die was cast, and our
fate was sealed. Shouts and huzzas rent the air, as the steamer skimmed
proudly over the waves, while clouds of handkerchiefs, on deck and upon
the receding shore, waved in the air as long as we could see each other.
Down, down the river glided the steady "Manhattan," and our thoughts began
to run in new channels. "Good-by! dear, sweet America," thought we a
hundred times, while we watched the retreating shores; perhaps our
thoughts were whispers! Europe with its innumerable attractions, its Alps,
Appennines and Vesuvius, its castles, palaces, walled towns, fine cities,
great battle fields, ancient ruins and a thousand other milestones of
civilization, lay before us; but a wide Ocean, and all the dangers and
perils of a long sea voyage lay between us and that other--longed for
shore.
The question whether we would ever realize the pleasure of a visit to the
Old World, was now reduced to the alternatives of _success_, or _failure
by accident or disease_.
Sea-Sickness.
I had labored under the erroneous impression that sea-sickness was bred of
fear and terror, and would attack only women (of both sexes) and children
of tender minds and frail constitutions. But, when the waves commenced to
roll higher, and the ship began a ceaseless rocking, which was in direct
opposition to the wants and comfort of my system, as all manner of
swinging ever was, I began to have fears that it was not _fright_, but
_swinging_, that made people sick at sea. The inner man threatened to
rebel, and I made my calculations how much higher the billows might swell,
before stomachs would be apt to revolt. We sailed out of sight of the land
before dusk, by which time, however, numbers of ill-mannered stomachs had
given evidence of their bad humor. Though I nodded but once or twice to
old Neptune, during the entire voyage, still I suffered much during the
first five days, from the pressure of intense dizziness and headache,
occasioned by the incessant rocking of our vessel upon the restless
waves. We had a very fine passage, as the sailors would say, but it was
far from being as fine as I had always fancied fine sea voyages would be.
The rocking of the ship would never be less than about two feet up and
down in its width of thirty feet. When the winds blew hard and the waves
rolled high, it swung some, twenty or twenty-five feet up and down at its
bow and at the stern. The highest waves that we saw in our outward passage
were probably from twelve to eighteen feet. That the rocking or swinging
of the ship, is the one and only cause of sea-sickness, may admit of a
question; but that it is the principal cause, there can be little doubt.
My observations and experiences in five or six voyages (long and short)
did not point to any other cause. As the sea air is generally regarded as
more salubrious and healthier than that on land, it can certainly not be a
cause of sea-sickness. Fright and terror, in a timid person might perhaps
aggravate the disease in few instances, though it seems doubtful, to say
the least. When the sea is calm and smooth, everybody feels well, even if
the vessel swims in the middle of the Ocean; but let a storm come on, and
the number of sick will increase in proportion to its violence.
Whales.
On the second day of our voyage, in the afternoon at about 4:00 o'clock,
we came across a shoal of whales. There must have been two or three dozen
of them. They apparently avoided our ship, as only a few made their
appearance very close by, though we sailed through the midst of them. They
swam about leisurely near the surface, betraying their whereabouts
frequently by spouting; but occasionally they would rise considerably
above the surface of the water, and expose large portions of their bodies
to our view. The excitement occasioned among all on board, by the
appearance of so many of these terrible monsters, greatly quickened our
dull spirits, and tended much to alleviate the lonesomeness occasioned by
the monotony of the sea voyage.
No one who has never experienced it, can form an idea of how the mind is
depressed and benumbed by the monotony of sea life. The nights drag along
so slowly, and the days--they seem to have no end. One will often loose
his "bearings" so completely, that he knows neither what day of the week
it is, nor whether it is forenoon or afternoon. Without keeping a diary or
record of some kind, it would be difficult for many to keep a sure run of
the date. Ordinarily, one sits down early in the morning _to wait for the
evening to draw by_, and often it happens, when it seems to him that he
has waited the length of three days on the land, he is mortified by the
announcement that it is yet far from being noon! An eternal present seems
to swallow up both the past and the future. After a week or two of such
weary waiting, one feels as if he had forgotten almost every thing that
happened before the day of his leaving home. I remarked one day to a
company of passengers on deck, that I could scarcely recall any thing that
had happened in the past; indeed, it required quite an effort to remember
that I had ever been in America, or anywhere else except on the old
"Manhattan" in an everlasting voyage. "Yes," observed one of the company,
"and I heard a fellow say yesterday that time seemed so long to him, that
he had really forgotten how many children he had." There is little doubt,
that if a ship-load of passengers could be suddenly and unexpectedly
landed upon the grassy slope of a verdant hillside; many would under
momentary impulse of overwhelming pleasure, kiss the dear earth, as
Columbus did on landing at San Salvador, if, indeed, extreme joy did not
impel them to make themselves ridiculous by imitating old Nebuchadnezzar,
in commencing to graze on the herbage! But the longest day must have an
end, and so have sea voyages.
The First Sight of Land.
On Saturday morning, July 3rd, everybody came upon deck in hope of seeing
land. A report was soon circulated, that the sailors with their
telescopes, had already seen the mountains of Ireland. Those passengers
that had telescopes or opera glasses soon brought them upon deck. Some
said they saw the land, but others using the same glasees could see
nothing. This, created a pleasant excitement with but little
satisfaction, however, except a lively hope of soon seeing _terra firma_
again. At about 8:00 o'clock (4:00 o'clock Penna. time) it was believed by
the passengers generally, that land was really in sight. When I first saw
the outline of the mountains through the mist and clouds that hung near
the horizon, it stood out so clear and bold that I felt surprised at not
having been able to see it long before, as some others had. There were
some who could not see the land till an hour afterwards. The inexperienced
must first _learn_, before they will know _how_ to see land. The first
light-house (one sixty miles from Queenstown) came into view at 9:35 a.m.
We passed it at 10:00 o'clock.
White sea-gulls come one or two days' journey into the sea to meet the
ships, and follow them for food. These had been increasing from an early
hour, and amounted to about fifty in number in the afternoon. It seems as
if their wings would never tire. All-day long they fly after the ships,
sometimes even coming over the deck near the passengers.
A great excitement prevailed on board during the whole day, because a
number of our passengers were to leave us there. While these were getting
ready to depart, and bidding good-by to their many friends on board, many
of us were busy writing letters to our friends and relatives in America.
Those letters were taken on to Queenstown, there mailed, and brought the
first news of our safe passage across the Atlantic. We were still a day
from Liverpool, but it was a day of pleasure. The dangers of the deep were
now forgotten, the strong winds of the Ocean had abated, and health and
happiness over all on board prevailed. Our course continued along.
The Coasts of Ireland and Wales.
At about 4:00 o'clock p.m., the little steamer "Lord Lyons" came up to our
ship to fetch the passengers that were bound for Queenstown. A company of
fruit-women came on board with gooseberries, raspberries and many other
good things with which they fed our famished passengers. These were our
first fruits of the season, and were highly relished by all.
The vegetation of Ireland is remarkable for its fresh, green color. We all
agreed that we had never seen such a rich green color before. "Emerald
Isle" (the _green island_) is a very appropriate name for Ireland, We saw
many light-houses and beautiful castles hanging upon the rocky shores or
standing proudly upon commanding eminences. Steamers keep so close to the
shore in sailing from Queenstown to Liverpool, that the land is nearly
always in sight. On Sunday morning, July 4th, the charming fields of
Ireland had been exchanged for the lofty mountains of Wales. We passed
Holyhead at 9:00 o'clock, and Liverpool came into sight at 1:30 p.m. An
hour later we came so near to the coast that the individual trees of a
shady wood upon the shores could readily he discerned. By 3:25 we had
entered the Mersey, and "half-speed" was ordered. Five minutes later, we
anchored and were touched by a tender. Here we learned what custom-house
officers are for. Every trunk, carpet-bag and satchel had to be opened for
them, and their busy hands were run all through our wardrobes. In order to
detect any smuggling that might be attempted, they will examine every
trunk or chest, &c., from top to bottom. They did not search our pockets,
however, but short of that they are required to do most anything
disagreeable to the traveler. As it was Sunday, all the shipping was
tessellated with the colors of every nation. It is a grand sight to see
acres upon acres of ships so profusely decorated with flags that it seems
as if the sky was ablaze with their brilliant colors. Our own "Manhattan"
sailed proudly into port with twenty-six flags streaming from her
mast-head and rigging.
After we had passed muster, we passed over a kind of bridge or gangway
from the "Manhattan" into a little steamer that had come down the river to
fetch us. How glad we were to leave the good old ship, and bound into the
arms of another that promised to take us ashore in a very few minutes! It
was a glorious time! We had come to regard the "Manhattan" as a
prison-house, from which we had long desired to take our leave, if we only
could. But now that the parting hour had come, how changed our feelings!
As the little boat sailed away, we felt sorry to leave her, and commenced
to call her by pet names. "Good-by dear 'Manhattan,' many thanks to you
for carrying us so safely across the deep wide sea," cried many of us;
while others gave the customary _three cheers_ and waved their hats.
Though we left her empty behind--no friends, and no acquaintances
remaining there, still we continued to wave our handkerchiefs at her so
long as we could see her, and have ever since remembered her as the
noblest of all the ships that was in harbor that day. Her, colors seemed
the brightest, and a hundred happy passengers separated that hour that
will never cease to sing her praises. Permit me, kind reader, to add one
line more, and in that line make mention of
Life-Boat, No. 5.
You may not be able to understand it, or to appreciate how a small party
of our passengers came to regard her as almost a sacred thing, but there
are a few that know the spell, and who will ever bless the page that tells
the tale! Thither we went when the winds blew harder and the waves rolled
higher, when our heads became heavier and our steps unsteady! She hung at
or near the center of the ship, where there was the least rocking or
swinging of all places in the whole vessel. During day-time we lay down
beneath her shade, and at night, we would sit by her side relating to
each other our feelings and experiences, &c. When sea-sickness had left
our company, we agreed upon that place as our general rendezvous by day
and by night, for the remainder of the voyage. There we spent our days and
there we met every night! If our sleep was interrupted by a storm at the
midnight hour, thither would we go for relief! A thousand recollections
gather around that boat, and bind our hearts together there, as with so
many cords; because our hearts meet there in fond remembrance, therefore
will we never forget the place.
Stepping Ashore.
I had bid adieu to all my acquaintances before leaving the steamer, and
consequently went ashore quite by myself. I did not experience that
piercing thrill through my system as I had expected to, on touching the
firm earth again; for we had seen the shore so long before we could land,
that all its novelty had disappeared.