We now bid "au revoir" to Paris, and cross the English channel, from
Calais to Dover, without any great inconvenience. And mighty Neptune did
not call on us for many returns of the day. We proceed from Charing
Cross station to the hotel of the same name, where we remain until we
obtain more pleasant surroundings in the west end of London. Daily
excursions, always on top of omnibuses, when there were seats for us,
run to the Picadilly, Pall Mall, down Regent and Oxford streets and into
Dickens' haunts, when time afforded, out to St. John's Woods, and
without fail to Kensington, to the Museum, which is most absorbing of
time and interest. We take carriages and drive through Carleton terrace
and through streets where the city homes of the royalty are located. To
drive in Hyde Park or Rotten Row, with a crest on your carriage door,
would be fine, but as we had left our crests at home we were denied many
of those privileges. I recall here with pleasure an opportunity that was
afforded my daughter and myself, in 1881, while on a visit to
Kensington. While wandering in the vicinity of Albert Hall, we were
attracted by crowds of people gathering roundabout its doors. On inquiry
we learned a bazaar was in progress therein for the benefit of some
London hospital. By paying the admittance fee of one pound each ($5.00)
we could enter, where we could see royalty, each person of note in his
or her booth with the name attached. "Maidens like moths are caught by
glare," and we were soon in regal atmosphere. Here were ladies of high
degree, dressed in Queen Anne's style, who had been brought thither by
lackeys in sedan chairs of that ancient class. Most marvelous was the
display of jewels which met our bewildering gaze, and these high-born
ladies, with their pretty feet and high insteps, delicately formed hands
and tapering fingers, gave evidence of good blood. We were approached by
these noble men and women, soliciting us to take chances in prizes that
were to be raffled off, but we declined for two reasons. In the first
place, we could not see how we could accommodate in our steamer trunks
the huge Chinese umbrella, under whose shade at least fifty people or
more could find shelter at a garden party, and the greater reason why we
did not invest was that our entrance fee was quite enough for the good
cause. However, we felt ourselves most favored at this extraordinary
opportunity of witnessing the gentle manners, and hearing the musical
intonation of voice that marks good birth.
On Sunday afternoon we went in search, in the east end of London, for
the "Palace of Delight," and its surroundings. We took the tramway and
inquired of a demure, missionary-looking lady, the way to the most
degraded quarters. She replied: "You are in that region now," and having
no male escort, we were not particularly over-confident of our position.
The streets were swarming with children; some fairly well clad, others
ragged and soiled. Groups of men and women, many in Sunday attire,
others whose habiliments were evidences of great want and poverty. But
few were hilarious. On the contrary, serious countenances betrayed
earnest conversation between and by these groups of people. We
encountered no special exhibition of degradation; but upon the women's
faces we detected the marks of toil and care, and in many of their
offspring, idiotic, expressionless faces. Woman's work among women may
bring in God's own good time a fulfillment of things hoped for. Again, I
recall a scene I witnessed in 1881. We were inmates of Mr. Burr's hotel,
as he termed it. Among his guests were people of some distinction. Mrs.
Mary Livermore, of Massachusetts, was in this category. She had been
sent over by her state or the city of Boston, to investigate the "Coffee
Houses" of London, and Mr. Burr was known as a philanthropist in that
city. Preparations were made to see London by gas light, and I was among
the few invited to go with Mrs. Livermore. Two carriages were provided
for the party, and each held besides four occupants, a seat either for
Mr. Burr or his son, with the respective coachmen. We drove to the
station and then took the steam cars to "Wandsworth," a short distance
from London. On disembarking we walked to one of the public resorts
known as a "Coffee House," where light refreshments, with tea, coffee
and chocolate are offered at a trifling price; also a bottled drink
labelled Ozone, which had no intoxicating influence. These institutions
were for the congregating of the laboring classes, where they might
spend an hour or so in discussing the news of the day, or in social
intercourse, where no intoxicating beverages could be obtained, and
which served to entertain and keep them off the streets or from dens of
infamy. Here husband and wife, with clean hands and faces, and perhaps
sweethearts for aught we knew, were apparently happy in this hour of
recreation. Mrs. Livermore was asked to speak to that body of people,
and her satellites drew close around her, not knowing how she would be
received. Suffice to say that motherly face drew the attention of all,
and the appeals she made to men and women present drew many a tear from
the female portion, and to suppress an emotion, an apologetic cough
issued from rough exteriors. We retraced our steps to London and there
our carriages awaited us. We were driven to the "Seven Dials," and worse
places, if possible, where we were subjected to jeers and penetrating
glances into our carriage by the passers-by. Across these streets were
hung clothes lines and under the glare of electric or gas lights could
be inspected the second-handed garments that were hung thereon.
Markets, whose stale and unhealthy condition revealed itself to our
sensitive nostrils, and we were glad to turn away from this unkempt
crowd to a theatre in close proximity, whose doors were thrown open
early to those who could afford a penny or more to enter. On the stage
was a young girl, dressed in clean apparel. A check apron gathered at
her neck and fell nearly to the tops of her shoes. She was amusing the
audience with a dance they called a "hoe down." She kept time to the
music by the clatter of slip-shod shoes. Then some "Punch and Judy"
exhibition followed, and refreshments similar to those we saw at
Wandsworth, were passed around, from which the hungry could appease
their hunger, and with the tea and coffee, their thirst was satisfied
for a mere trifle.
Thus the hours wore away which might have otherwise been spent, and
would have rendered these people unfit for the next day's work. By ten
o'clock all was over, and a very orderly crowd dispersed, we will hope,
to their homes. The theaters in London are well patronized. I saw among
other plays the "Prisoner of Zenda," and realized fully that to wear the
court train, and handle it, and yourself gracefully must be to wear it
often. The boxes are well patronized by coroneted women. I saw no one
who struck me as being to the manor born. The universal law of removing
all head covering is most strictly observed. The average appearance of
the English woman does not compare with dainty, well-gowned French
woman, but neither English nor French rival the American woman, when she
starts out to please. No one visits London for the first time without
seeing the tower, with its grewsome walls and its regal splendor of the
crown jewels. The national and royal academies claim many hours, and to
visit the churches and cathedrals one makes haste.
We were in London on Easter Sunday. We heard in his own pulpit Dr.
Parker and, more than that, his wife, now deceased, stood on the left of
the pulpit. Before the sermon by her husband, she appealed to the women
of London, as well as the women of every nation, to spare the birds, and
repeated several verses of her own composition in their behalf.
We fully intended to visit the cathedral towns of England, but sickness
of one of our party, deprived us of that privilege, and after a lot of
shopping, and more sight-seeing, we spent one day at Windsor, and saw
the Eton College grounds. Not far away, but in sight, I believe, of
Windsor Castle, is "Stoke Pogis," made memorable by "Gray's Elegy."
Her majesty, the queen, was not at home. We were shown one room in
particular, which has been thrown open to the public since my visit
there in 1881; that was, the one containing the "jubilee gifts of
1897," when hearts and hands must have been emptied in making these
royal presents. The treasures of India were there, those of Afric's
sunny shores, and from every nation and every tribe that acknowledged
Victoria. Queen and empress, each and all, poured forth their trophies
at her feet. Her stables were shown us, well stocked with thoroughbred
steeds from far off Arabia and the Shetland Isles.
"Time and tide waits for no man," and we are booked for the "Augusta
Victoria," that sails April ----, 1896. Some love to roam, but I like it
better when I am nearer home. Our trip across the Atlantic is not what
we hoped for, and a choppy sea with an occasional swell made us feel
uncomfortable. I had the pleasure in Paris of making the acquaintance of
a gentleman, wife and young lady daughter, who invited me to return to
America in their company, and seldom, if ever, has it been my lot to
have my lines cast among more delightful people than they and, although
our homes are far apart, my heart often goes out to them.
When our own home port is sighted and the sensation the appearance of a
custom-house officer always creates is over, and the welcome "O. K." is
visible on our luggage, we feel like taking off our chapeau to "Liberty
Enlightening the World."
It is midnight when we land on the Jersey shore, and the gallant
captain, no less courteous on land than on sea, bids us return to our
cabins and rest, when we have obeyed our country's mandate, the custom
house officer.
A hasty breakfast and a few good-byes are spoken, and my heart swells
within me, as I spring from the gang-plank to the shore, and the lines
"My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills,
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above,"
seem to express all and more than all that I could say.
A short stay of a few hours in New York, and an uneventful trip on the
New York Central Railroad brought me into Chicago, where those nearest
and dearest to me were in waiting to bid me welcome home. And now in
closing, my dear children, I will say: "That if the work I have done in
leaving you these impressions and footprints, gives the pleasure hoped
for, I will feel compensated, notwithstanding I have labored when the
flesh was weak and my vision clouded. When you have reached my age
(sixty-three), when youth and vigor are not in their fulness, this work
of love may then be appreciated."
Your Grandmother,