OLD AND NEW.
One in stories of the past,
One in glories still to last,
One in speech and one in face,
One in honest pride of race,
One in faith and hope and grace.—M. F. TURNER.
“Let us go very early in the spring. If we stop here until the season
begins to put forth all its beauty, I shall never be able to leave this
‘sweet old home,’ as Drusa calls it.”
Thus spoke General Lyon one morning in March, when the family were
assembled at breakfast, discussing the subject of their trip to Europe.
“Then as this is the fifteenth, and the spring is held to commence about
the twenty-first, we had better begin to see about our voyage at once.
Do you wish to start as early as the first of April?” inquired Dick.
“No; that plan would give us but two weeks to get ready in, and it is
necessary to secure berths at least one month in advance. We shall not
go before the middle of April. Then, also, we shall be sure that the
equinoctial storms are quite over, to their very latest reverberation.”
“Well, in any case, we had better fix upon our line of steamers, and
write to the agent at once to take state-rooms,” suggested Anna.
“Certainly,” agreed the General.
And after a little more discussion of the merits of rival lines and
individual steamers, their ship was selected, and Dick was authorized to
write and secure state-rooms, and to be sure to get them amid-ships.
Dick wrote, and in due course of mail he received the agent’s answer,
saying that his party could have one state-room amid-ships and two near
the bows.
Dick showed this letter to the General, and the two in consultation
decided that the choice state-room should be assigned to Drusilla and
her child, while the other members of the party should take the less
desirable berths.
“But we must say nothing to her about it, or she may refuse to make
herself and boy comfortable at our expense, and insist upon a different
arrangement,” said the General.
So Dick wrote again to the agent, enclosing a draft upon a New York
banker to pay for the state-rooms.
And lively preparations were commenced for the voyage.
Drusilla, who never in her life had been a hundred miles from home, was
delighted with the prospect of crossing the ocean and traveling in
distant countries.
Not only was her mind all alert with the anticipations of intellectual
pleasures, but her heart was cheered with the hope of being nearer to
Alexander.
It was even possible that she might see him, or that he might see her
little Leonard. And so Drusilla went enthusiastically to work with her
preparations.
But the whole party made the usual mistake of inexperienced
voyagers—they encumbered themselves with an unnecessary amount of
luggage.
As if they were going beyond the bounds of civilization to live forever
away from the possibility of purchasing the comforts or even the
necessaries of life, they packed clothing by the twelve dozens, and
filled many great trunks.
As if the steamer had no store-room or pantry, they took hampers of
canned meats and fruits and jars of jellies and preserves.
And as if there were no surgeon in the staff of officers, they took a
“doctor’s book” and a “physic box,” to say nothing of boxes of lemons,
bottles of peppermint cordial and cases of soda powders as preventives
of sea-sickness, or of books, magazines, checkers, chessmen, and musical
instruments as preventives of ennui.
Thus the party of seven had twenty-one large trunks.
They took but two servants—Pina to nurse little Leonard and to wait on
Drusilla and Anna; and young Jacob to attend upon the General and Dick.
Old Jacob, Marcy and Matty were to be left in charge of Old Lyon Hall.
Leo was to go for a visit to his parents at Cedarwood.
All things being ready, the party of voyagers left Old Lyon Hall on the
seventh of April, so as to have a day in Washington and a few days in
New York before the sailing of the steamer on the fifteenth.
General Lyon had many friends and acquaintances either permanently or
temporarily residing in Europe. To add to the number of these he had
procured letters of introduction from distinguished people in America to
their peers in the old world.
It was a very pleasant day of sunshine and showers in the capricious
month, when they finally commenced their journey.
They traveled from Old Lyon Hall to the Stormy Petrel Landing in the
capacious old family carriage.
They were followed by two wagons taking their heavy baggage.
At this steamboat landing they took the Sea Gull for Washington, where
they all arrived in good health in the afternoon of the next day.
According to previous arrangement, they had a hack, and leaving their
luggage at the railway station, went out to Cedarwood, where mammy and
her old man were expecting to receive them, and where they found
everything prepared for their comfort.
Rooms were aired, beds made and bright little wood-fires kindled. And an
exquisite early supper was in progress.
Mammy received her mistress and mistress’s friends with a mixture of
deference and dignity in her manners that was quite impressive.
And her joy over the fine growth and beauty of her nurseling, little
Leonard, was natural and delightful.
The meeting also between Pina and Leo and their parents was very
pleasant to see.
Our party had reached Cedarwood at the most beautiful hour of sunset.
General Lyon and Anna, who saw the place now for the first time and
under its fairest aspect, were delighted with the cottage and its
surroundings.
It was not an imposing and venerable mansion, overshadowed by mountains
and forests, like Old Lyon Hall, but it was a pretty, wildwood home,
fresh, bright, fair, and youthful. And Anna was in ecstasies over it.
But the sparkling shower-gems that glittered in the rays of the setting
sun, from every leaf and flower and blade of grass, while they added so
much to the beauty of the scene, made it a little too damp for health.
So Drusilla pressed her friends to go into the house, and General Lyon
seconded her motion, and drove them in before him.
“This is all very pretty, my dears,” he said, “but we don’t want to
begin our voyage with bad colds.”
So they went into the little drawing-room, with which you are so well
acquainted, the lovely little drawing-room, where Drusilla had watched
out so many weary nights.
A cheerful fire was burning in the grate; and early spring flowers were
blooming in the vases; and the curtains that separated it from the
little dining-room were drawn aside, showing the snowy damask, shining
silver, and Sevres china, of a well-set supper-table.
When they had stood before the fire a few moments to evaporate the
slight dampness from their clothes and to look around upon the pretty
place, the servants were summoned to show them to their several rooms.
Drusilla, attended by mammy, carrying little Leonard, went up to her own
chamber.
It was looking very fresh and bright, pretty and attractive, with its
crimson carpet and snowy curtains and its cheerful wood fire.
But with what feelings did the young wife and mother enter again this
chamber, so filled with sweet and bitter memories?
Certainly with some sadness at the thoughts of all the happiness and the
misery she had felt in this place. But also with much thankfulness, that
she and her child had passed through the fiery trials unscathed—had come
forth from them sound in body and mind; and were now blessed with health
and happiness and many friends.
She sank on her knees for a moment and returned sincere thanks to Divine
Providence. And then she arose and made a few necessary changes in her
dress, and went below, to await her friends in the drawing-room.
They soon joined her there.
And then the supper, prepared with mammy’s best skill, was placed upon
the table and the party sat down with good appetites to enjoy it.
Afterwards Drusilla tried the tone of her new piano, the one that had
been ordered and sent to the cottage by her agent when she was expecting
to take her friends there to spend the winter.
She found it out of tune from disuse, and so gave up the attempt to
bring harmony out of it, for that evening.
She rang and brought “mammy” up into the drawing-room and said:
“Mammy, I shall write to my agent to send a man out here to put this
instrument in tune. And after that you must make a fire in this room
every wet day and you must play on it.”
“Play on the fire, ma’am!”
“No, on the piano.”
“On the pianner!”
“Yes, I tell you.”
“Why la, ma’am, I couldn’t do it! It ain’t likely as I could! I don’t
know nothing about it! I couldn’t play a tune, not no, if the salvation
of my mortial soul depended on to it! I could play on the jewsharp, if
that would do.”
Drusilla smiled and said:
“I don’t suppose you could play any pieces on this instrument. But I
tell you what I want you to do. Look here—”
And Drusilla opened the piano and sat down before it. And mammy followed
her and stood watching her motions.
“See, now; begin here at this left hand end and strike every one of
these little ivory keys in turn, just as I do now, one after the other
till you get up here to the right hand end, and then backwards one after
the other till you get back to the left hand end again. And then do the
same thing with the black keys. You can do that, can’t you?” asked
Drusilla, giving a practical illustration to her words.
“Oh yes, ma’am, I can do that well enough, and I think I shall like it.
Let’s see, now. I’m to begin at the end where they groans and roars like
sinners in the pit, and I’m to end at the end where they whistles and
chippers like birds in the bush.”
“Yes; that is what you are to do for five or ten minutes every day, or
every few days, as you please. And you are to light a fire here whenever
it is very damp. All this is to keep the instrument in tune, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am, I think I shall like it. I _know_ I shall like it. And it’s
easy enough!” said mammy, standing by her mistress and touching the
keys. “La! what will my old man say, when he finds out I am larnin’
music on the pianner, in my ole ages of life, and practysin’ every day
like any boarding-school young lady! Won’t he be took right offen his
feet along with ’stonishment?”
“Very likely. And now that will do, mammy. I know you will like to spend
as much time as possible with Pina, as she is so soon to leave you, so
good night.”
“Good night, ma’am. Good night, ladies and gentlemen.”
When mammy had left the room, Anna broke out into a peal of silvery
laughter.
“Well, upon my word, Drusa,” she said, “I never should have thought of
_your_ device for keeping a piano in tune.”
“Why not? It is an obvious one, under the circumstances.”
“Yes; but think of the absurdity of having mammy seated at the piano,
thumping upon the keys every day.”
“She will not thump. And there is no absurdity. She will in this way
keep the instrument in tune, and I should not at all wonder if in the
process she should teach herself to play by ear. She will, if she had
the ordinary musical talent of her race,” said Drusilla.
And then seeing General Lyon was actually nodding, and that Dick was
trying to smother a yawn, she lighted the bedroom candles.
Anna put one in Dick’s hand, and waked up the General.
And the party bade each other good-night, and went to their several
rooms.
The earliest hours next day were spent in the business that brought
Drusilla to Cedarwood—the inspection of her little estate.
General Lyon, who had spent the best part of his long life in
agricultural pursuits, was well fitted to judge correctly of such
matters. And he pronounced everything connected with the farm to be very
well ordered, and he complimented “mammy” and her “old man” on the skill
and fidelity with which they had administered affairs.
By ten o’clock, the travelers having settled the business that brought
them to Cedarwood, left for Washington to meet the mid-day train for New
York, where they arrived at eleven o’clock at night.
They went to one of the up-town hotels, where they succeeded in
procuring good rooms on the second floor. After a late but light supper,
they retired to rest, and, fatigued by their long ride, slept soundly.
The next morning, Drusilla looked for the first time upon the great
American seaport, as seen from the windows of her room at the hotel.
From her point of view, she expected to see a thronged thoroughfare. She
was agreeably disappointed, for she looked down upon a broad, clean,
shady street, with a park on the opposite side, for the house was a
quiet up-town one.
While she stood at the window, General Lyon came to the door to take her
down to breakfast, in the public room, where at one of the little tables
she found Anna and Dick already seated, and waiting for her.
After the usual greetings:
“This is the tenth,” said Anna; “we have six days to see all that we
wish to see in New York, and so we must be busy, Drusa.”
“Yes,” answered Drusilla.
“But first of all, we must go and take a look at our steamer. I see by
this morning’s paper that she got into port late last night,” said the
General.
“You and I can go and do that, sir. The ladies need not accompany us
unless they wish,” said Dick.
“Oh, but we _do_ wish,” put in Anna. “I was never inside of an
ocean-steamer in my life. Were you, Drusilla?”
“Of course not.”
“And wouldn’t you like to go and take a look at the floating home in
which we are to live for about two weeks?”
“Certainly I should, unless——”
“Unless what?”
“Our company should inconvenience uncle or Dick.”
“It will not inconvenience _me_ in the slightest degree. On the contrary
it will give _me_ pleasure. And—it don’t matter about Dick,” said the
General.
“Then we’ll go,” concluded Anna, rising from the table.
“And you had better get ready at once, young ladies, as we have a great
deal-do-to-day after seeing the ship,” advised the General.
“And Drusilla, if I were in your place, I would let Pina take little
Lenny across the street into the park. Jacob can go along to look after
them both. So they will be quite safe,” counseled Anna.
Drusilla nodded and smiled assent.
And they went up stairs to put on their bonnets, and soon came down
prepared for the drive.
The General and Dick were waiting in the hall, and the hired carriage
was at the door.
“Only let me see little Lenny and his attendants safe in the park first,
and then I will join you,” said Drusilla, who was leading in her hand
her little boy; who now, being seventeen months old, could walk and talk
quite prettily.
“It is only across the street. It will not take us two minutes,” added
Anna.
“And I am so much afraid of his being run over by carriages,” pleaded
the young mother.
“Oh, go, go!” laughed the General.
And Drusilla and Anna saw their little charge safely across the street
and within the enclosure of the green and shaded park; where, with many
warnings and instructions to his attendants, they left him with Pina for
his bearer and Jacob for his body-guard.
Then they returned and joined their own protectors.
“See how patiently he is waiting for us! Had ever any one such a dear,
indulgent old uncle as I have?” said Drusilla, fondly regarding the old
man as she approached.
In two more minutes they were all in the carriage, and rolling down the
avenue towards Broadway.
They were nearly an hour in reaching their ship, which, with her
passengers and freight all discharged, was lying quietly at her pier.
Led on by Dick, pressing through crowds of people and climbing over
piles of merchandise, and passing over decks of other boats, our party
at last boarded their steamer, the “Hurona.”
Picking his way among coils of ropes and chains, and folds of canvas and
heaps of coal, Dick went up to an officer on duty on the deck, and
showing his tickets requested to see the rooms engaged by his party.
The officer politely acquiesced, called a steward, and directed him to
show the gentleman and his friends to the first cabin.
The man obeyed, and led our party down to the elegantly furnished
floating drawing-room of the steamer.
“This is much finer than anything we ever saw on our rivers and bays,”
said Anna, as she glanced around upon the velvet carpets, satin damask
curtains, heavily gilded cornices, cheval mirrors, and all the showy
appointments of the place.
“This is number three, if you please, sir,” said the steward, opening
the ground glass gilded door of a state-room on their right.
“Ah! yes; this is the place in which you will have to go to housekeeping
for two weeks,” said the General, turning with a smile to Drusilla.
It was a clean, cozy den, with an upper and a lower berth, and a sofa,
wash-stand, shelves and drawers, and all that was required for
convenience.
“Do you think you will be comfortable here?” inquired the General.
“I shall be _very_ comfortable. This is the largest state-room I ever
saw,” said Drusilla, glancing around approvingly, although she was too
inexperienced to know that this was indeed one of the very best
positions in the ship.
“And now we will see ours,” said Dick.
And the steward led the party far away up to the bows of the steamer,
where he showed them two large, three-cornered state-rooms, directly
opposite each other.
Though their position was execrable, they were even much larger and much
better furnished than was Drusilla’s.
She noticed their ample size and many conveniences, and exclaimed;
“I am so glad that you have so much space and so many little drawers and
cupboards to put away your things, and that you are so near each other,
too.”
And in her heart she wished that she could be near them also; for she
could not know that they had the worst situation while she had the best,
or that they would be harrassed by every motion of the ship, while she
would scarcely feel it at all.
Dick and Anna smiled and enjoyed her “bliss of ignorance.”
Having thus inspected their future quarters, they left the steamer and
returned to the hotel.
Drusilla had been feeling a little secret anxiety on the subject of her
boy.
But Master Lenny had neither been stolen, run over, choked, bumped, or
injured in any other of the ways she had feared for him. He was quite
safe, and full of a subject which he called “moodick” and “yed toat;”
and which Drusa interpreted to mean a brass band attached to a marine
corps that had been playing in the park to Lenny’s great delight.
That evening our party went to the opera. The next day they visited the
public institutions on the islands in East River.
And thus with sight-seeing or shopping all day long, and going to some
place of amusement in the evening, they passed the time until Saturday.
On that morning, at about ten o’clock, they embarked on board the
Hurona, and took up their quarters in the state-rooms already described.
The Hurona sailed at twelve noon.
And after a voyage of ten days, which was so calm, pleasant and
uneventful as to leave no incident worth recording, the Hurona reached
the shores of the Old World.