I
The Circumstances of the Flight.--The Start.--The Car "Lucania."--The
Kitchen.--The Cook.--The Poetic Dinner.--Our Accommodations.--Visitors
at Newark.--Improvised Theatricals.--Philadelphia, Wilmington,
Baltimore, Washington.--The Approaching War Crisis.
It seemed like a dream to be invited to join a party on a private
Pullman car for an extended tour of close on eight thousand miles, all
in these our United States! Yet such was the opportunity which was
generously offered us in this springtime of 1898.
It was to be "A Flight in Spring" of most intense interest. The journey
was to embrace in its continued circuit, from New York back to New
York, points as widely separated as New Orleans and San Francisco. It
was to traverse many States and Territories, and was to be accomplished
with every adjunct of unstinted comfort and refinement.
The expected morning when we were to start on our journey came at last,
with that subdued wonder in it that the dream, so unlooked for, was
really to be a fact. Bags and satchels were all packed, and with that
happy feeling which always comes to the tourist when, all ready, he is
safely ensconced in his cab, we sped to the Twenty-third Street ferry
for the Pennsylvania depot in Jersey City.
Never did the great Hudson River look so beautiful or New York so
magnificent in our eyes as on that early morning of April 13th, when,
through and beyond it all, we could see in imagination the great
journey before us, all made more radiant by a munificent hospitality
which had made it for us a fact--"A Flight in Spring"--which we had
often thought of, but never hoped to see.
To start off on such a journey, with a six weeks' vacation in view,
even if undertaken all alone and in most prosaic economy, would be an
event; but when one was met by pleasant friends and ushered into an
independent, self-contained flying home on wheels, it was indeed
something ideal.
Our car, the "Lucania," was a happy combination of well-devised space
and comfortable arrangement. Let us recount its good points. We may as
well begin with the foundation of all well-regulated homes, the
kitchen. What a _multum in parvo_ that sacred spot was! It held quite a
substantial cooking range; it had lockers and cupboards, and glistening
cooking utensils of most approved fashion. Already our _chef_ was at
his work, affording, in his own person, with all its good-natured
plumpness, a hint of the good things he could evolve from the
interesting scene of his labors. He was the best possible specimen of
a negro cook, handsome, fat, and jolly. He filled almost completely
his little kitchen; his plump and shining cheeks looking like the very
best and most exquisitely finished Parisian bronze. Set off by the
background of his cooking utensils and other objects of his serious
and responsible calling, he presented a picture worthy of a painter.
I felt, as I looked at him, that he was a genius in his way. His
subsequent work did not belie my instant instinct of his powers; for,
on a day long to be remembered, as we were speeding across one of the
most arid spots of our journey, somewhere in Arizona, he served up a
dinner worthy of a poet; then I felt proud of him. That day the outer
air was stifling. Our car was speeding through vast stretches of
yellow, heated sand; the sun poured down in full force; every window
was closed to keep out, as far as possible, the all-pervading dust. A
weary gloom spread over the liveliest of our company, and even dinner
was dreaded, as the time approached for that necessary function. At
last the meal was announced, and we all reached the dining-room in a
weary, limp condition, when a surprise awaited us. The artist of the
galley, our negro cook, got in his poetic work. I felt his fine touch
at once when I saw that there was to be no soup that day. Instead, we
had some delicate fish, served with most refreshing cucumbers on ice,
the sparkle of which, in the dim shaded light of our room, looked like
dewdrops. Every course thereafter had a suggestion of coolness about
it, gently hinting at our languor and its needs, so tenderly known and
intelligently relieved. Slices of fresh fruit and iced coffee ended a
repast, with the thermometer at well over 100 degrees, and yet every
guest at ease and at rest. I voted from my grateful inwards that, if I
could afford it, I would gladly give our good cook a bronze replica of
his own bronze face, as a humble token of my appreciation of his noble
art.
Among the further perfections of our land yacht were separate and
secluded apartments for our married friends and other privileged
parties, and ample berths for less favored mortals; there was also a
spacious dining-room, and a generous lounging place at the end of the
car, where after-dinner chats could be indulged in and mornings happily
passed while watching the landscape as it seemed to fly past us and
vanish in the ever-changing distance. But let us return to the events
of our first day's trip. The marshes of the Hackensack valley were soon
crossed, and at our first stop, at Newark, we rejoiced to find the Rev.
Dr. Frank Landon Humphreys and his sweet wife, who were to make us glad
with their company as far as Washington; and certainly this was done.
There were quips and jokes without number from the ever versatile
Doctor; and roars of good-natured fun, which he provoked, made us
oblivious of the naked landscape, as yet with little more than a hint
here and there of the coming springtime.
We had summer along with us, however, if good nature and pleasant chat
can symbolize the warmth and comfort of that happy season. The ladies'
bonnets and wraps, discovered by the Reverend Doctor in one of the
staterooms, made impromptu material for much rapid-change dramatic
performances, exquisitely absurd, and altogether entertaining. On we
sped, with our jolly company, through New Jersey, rich and populous; on
to Philadelphia, our great city neighbor, which, however, seems to most
of us as far distant and unknown as Mars or the moon. Yet what a happy
home place it is to those who dwell therein, and know the many
advantages of its vast area, and consequent freedom from tenement
drawbacks and other evils which we know too well. On we went through
old Wilmington on the Delaware, with its red brick sidewalks and black
lounging denizens; on through Baltimore, famous for good living and
beautiful women; until in the afternoon we reached Washington and
looked with admiration at the stately Capitol in the distance, with its
splendid and graceful dome, and gazed with a sort of awe at the far-off
Washington monument, that huge white obelisk, so gigantic, so spectral,
so magnificent, but which is yet so chimney-like in its immensity as to
be almost forbidding, if not revolting, to the aesthetic sense. I
presume, though, that a nearer approach to the vast structure would
overawe us with its colossal appearance. I have been told that the
effect of that unbroken shaft near by, eighty feet wide at its base,
and mounting skyward without a break, in perfect plainness, for five
hundred and fifty-five feet, is almost supernatural and overwhelming.
The very sight of the Capitol could not but bring to our hearts the
great crisis which was there impending. The huge dome seemed, as it
were, to cover in the great brain of the nation struggling with the
question, "Is America to engage in war? Is the nation which stands most
for peace and humanity to enter on a career of aggressive arms?" It
seemed an added wonder to our "Flight in Spring" that we were entering
thereon at such a momentous time. But life flows on in many currents;
and no matter what great crises may occur in human affairs; duties, and
even pleasures, have each their place, and draw us after them in either
work or play.