London to Paris.
On Wednesday, July 21st, the eight day of my stay in London, I went to
Charing Cross Station and procured a ticket for Paris. Before leaving
however, I exchanged my English currency for French money. The rate of
Exchange is 25 francs for one sovereign. The exchange clerk explained to
me the relative values of the French coins which I found to be much easier
to understand than English money.
The table runs thus: 100 centimes equal one franc; and 20 francs, one
napoleon. The coins are: napoleons, (20£), 10 franc and 5 franc pieces in
gold; francs and half-franc coins in silver; and 10 centime, 5 centime,
(the sou), and 1 centime copper and nickle coins, though the centime is
not in general circulation now, being equal to but one fifth of a cent in
our money. It was a great consolation to me to know that I would
understand the French money perfectly, especially as I expected not to be
able to speak with anybody in Paris, except, now and then, with a stray
German or Englishman. Soon after entering the train at Charing Cross I met
a Frenchman (Prof. P. Simond who could speak English fluently, having
occupied his time in England in teaching French, and was on his way to
Paris to spend his vacation there. He offered at once, very kindly, to
assist me in Paris, and I felt from that moment that I should be ten-fold
luckier in making my entry into Paris than I had thus far had reason to
expect. The train left London at 6:35 p.m., and was to make connection
with a steamer for Calais, (pron. K[)a]l'[)i]), thence by rail to Paris,
reaching the latter place the next afternoon. The "through ticket" 3rd
Class, from London to Paris, cost 21 shillings. Distance 262 miles.
Soon after leaving London, I discovered that I was surrounded by the
family of an English merchant, who, having retired from business, had
taken his wife and daughters to make a trip to the Continent, with a view
to see France and Germany. The mother expressed great delight on learning
that I was an American, remarking that "Americans are not so _stiff_ in
their intercourse." It was lot long before I felt that I was in a fair
position to spend the _day and night en route from London to Paris_
pleasantly, even if we were to be confined to the cars and the boat with
the exception of a few hours.
We crossed the Strait of Dover at about midnight, though not _unawares_!
As I had no fears of getting sea-sick upon the Strait of Dover, I took my
seat on the deck in confidence of a pleasant voyage. Mrs. L. soon asked me
whether I did not expect to get sick, stating that she was in great fear
of it. I replied that I hoped our passage was too short for getting sick,
as the waves were not apt to rise very high in such a narrow strait. But I
was mistaken; the sick were soon moaning in every direction. My gay
companions all disappeared except the old gentleman and his younger
daughter. A large steamship of 3,000 tons burden would probably show more
dignity, but the little steamer upon which we had taken passage, was as
fiercely knocked about by the waves, and made fully as much ado about it,
as the old "Manhattan" ever did in the middle of the Atlantic. The young
lady was keeping close to her father and had already ceased to laugh, when
I asked him the last time about their health. _He_ was well, but the young
lady was also becoming dizzy from the rocking, and turning pale at the
terrors of the sea. I hastened to the cabin below and sought relief in
lying down. Being both weary and giddy I soon fell into a sleep, from
which I did not wake until we reached Calais.
The train for Paris was not to leave until the next morning, so I tried to
find rest and sleep in the Waiting Room, but without success. By and by a
gentleman came round and offered to conduct us to lodging places. I
followed him into the city, through strange streets into a strange house,
and was shown to retire in a strange room. Everything seemed in its place,
however, so that I had no occasion for feeling uneasy. The next morning I
rose at break of day and took a long walk through the city of Calais, to
look about and see as much, as possible before I had to leave. This was my
first walk on the Continent of Europe.
I looked about where I might get breakfast, but as most of the business
houses were not yet open, I stood a poor chance. Into the saloons I would
not go, as I could not have asked for what I wanted on account of my
inability to speak French; my only hope, therefore, was to find a shop or
store that displayed in the window what I wanted, so that I could make my
purchase by gestures. I had provided myself with a Conversational Guide
Book, in London, containing the French, Italian and German equivalents of
English words and phrases, most necessary to the tourist; but the French
pronunciation is so difficult that I could after all not make myself
understood except by pointing out these French words to the shop-keepers.
To give the reader an idea of what mistakes an American is apt to make in
pronouncing French, I offer the names of two of the most common articles
of food. They are _pain_ (bread) pronounced pä, and _lait_ (milk)
pronounced l[=a]. I succeeded, however, later in the morning, when the
shops were generally open, to procure a breakfast, whereupon, after having
visited a very antique church and examined the strong fortifications of
the city, I started for the railway station.
On my way thither I passed the open door of a saloon in which Mr. and
Mrs. L., whose friendship I had formed the previous day, sat at coffee. It
was a pleasant surprise, and I took my seat with them, drinking coffee for
the benefit of the milk (_du lait_) which I poured into it. This done, Mr.
L. invited me to accompany him to their hotel to "see what a nice place
they had found last night!" It was a excellant hotel, and as we approached
the beautiful flower-beds which lined the path leading to the entrance,
their daughter came down the walk, and greeted us, the old gentleman
remarking that they had been inquiring last night what had become of me.
It is very pleasant and agreeable to fall into such society, and to behold
the cloth spread and the China and glass ware set with an excellent
breakfast (a regular home-fashion scene) after one has spent several hours
in lingual conflicts for a breakfast, and seen nothing but the outside of
old weather-beaten houses.
I took my seat with the English party and my French friend (Prof. P.S.) in
the same car, and left Calais at 7:20 a.m. Everything looked strange
again; even more so than when I first came to England. Everybody, except
our English company, spoke French, and the cars, the buildings, and the
tickets and conductors, seemed all different from what I was accustomed to
in England. The houses which we saw from the train, were small and covered
with tiles like those which I had seen in northwestern England. We soon
passed burial grounds in which the graves were headed with crosses, in
place of marble slabs, for tombstones. Large quantities of peat and the
white stone quarries in the chalk formations, next arrested our attention.
Though it was the 22nd of July, haying was not yet finished. Some of the
farmers were, however, engaged in reaping both their wheat and barley. At
8:34 a.m., the English Channel came again into view. Thus we passed along
enjoying the scenery of "belle France," (beautiful France), but by and by
we became tired of watching landscapes.
To see odd styles of architecture, and watch the strange ways about a
people, may afford a pleasant diversion for a time; but the eyes, too,
become tired of looking. A striking feature about the agriculture is the
smallness of many of the fields; there being no fences, the fields are
distinguished by their crops. Some of them are but several rods in extent.
The various colors which the different kinds of vegetables assume in their
progress of growth and ripening, make the landscape look like an immense
expanse of checkered carpet, exceedingly beautiful to behold.
When these scenes seemed no longer to be charming, or we had become too
fatigued to appreciate them, we commenced to amuse ourselves in games,
joking and tricks, of which the traveler sees and enjoys his fill.
Gambling; which is such a wide-spread social evil in America, is
prohibited or restricted to certain fixed days of the year, in some
countries of Europe; but games of various kinds are played, by the best
society, almost everywhere. Notwithstanding all the arguments that may be
advanced in favor of games at chess and back-gammon, as exercises in
mental gymnastics, and of playing cards as affording pleasant diversion
for mixed parties, the diligent tourist, like the industrious student,
should not squander much of his time at it.