GREECE 115
TURKEY 120
HUNGARY 129
AUSTRIA 132
GERMANY 134
FRANCE 137
ISCHIA 162
INDEX OF PLACES 171
INDEX OF AUTHORS AND BOOKS 177
ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING PAGE
Castello Mezzatorre Title
Lime Walk, Oxford 10
National Gallery, London, fronting Trafalgar Square 16
Ventnor }
Tennyson's House } 20
Shanklin, Isle of Wight }
Street in Bonchurch } 22
Stoke-Poges, where Gray's "Elegy" was written 24
National Gallery, Edinburgh, Castle on Hill in background 30
Dryburgh Abbey, where Sir Walter Scott is buried 32
Dunluce Castle 36
Trinity College, Dublin 48
Old Steps and Sea Wall, Capri 54
Isola di Capri 56
Amalfi 58
Street Scene, Naples 60
The Pincian Hill, Rome 68
Stanza della Segnatura, Vatican Palace, Rome 74
Piazza della Signoria, Florence 82
Stairway Bargello Palace, Florence 84
The Grand Canal, Venice 86
Lake Maggiore, Isola Bella, Italy 92
Amsterdam 106
Ship Canal cut across the Isthmus of Corinth 116
The Acropolis as It Was }
The Acropolis as It Is } 118
Landing at Smyrna 120
Constantinople 122
The Galata Bridge, Constantinople 126
Modern Nürnberg }
Old Nürnberg } 136
Rue de Rivoli, showing Tuileries Gardens 140
Bois de Vincennes }
Château d'Amboise } 150
Campo Santo, Genoa 156
Valley of the Rhone }
Corniche Road between Nice and Monaco } 158
Château d'If }
Almeria, Spain } 160
BY WAY OF PREAMBLE
Ah me, ah me, that I should be
So torn by my inconstancy;
I fain would go—I tarry so,
But see the world, I must—heigh-ho.
WASHINGTON:
Indeed, and in truth, one is rarely natural save under deep emotions.
After all my resolutions and determinations, I found I was not able to
part from those I love with any degree of composure.
I assure you that I did not stay composed very long, for as the cruel
train pulled out, and I saw, through a mist of tears, that dear form
fade from sight, I broke down, and remained "down" all the afternoon
and evening. With this morning's bright sunshine, however, I am a man
(?) again.
The first sound I heard this morning was, "Here's a message for you,
Miss" and straightway that porter's name goes rattling down the rocky
road of history as a discerning and right-minded person. What married
woman of, well, let's say thirty, does not enjoy being called "Miss"?
But to go back to my telegram,—it served as my déjeuner à la félicité.
From that moment I was happy, and peace has taken possession of me since
the coming of that dear message.
PHILADELPHIA:
The ship was so white and clean, and I was so pleased over our
stateroom, that I forgot for a moment the big lump in my throat; but I
do not understand why people allow those near and dear to them to come
to see them off. Nothing could have kept me on that boat had my nearest
and dearest been standing on the dock.
Ruth and Suzanne are here at last.
I am sending these lines back with the pilot.
I wish he were to take me instead of the letter.
How I envy it!
ON BOARD SHIP:
There has been no writing on board this ship for the past four days,
and very little sleeping, and less eating. Every one seemed sick except
Ruth, a few of the men and myself. Those of us who were able to crawl
up on deck were lashed to our steamer chairs and the chairs lashed to
the deck.
The pilot left at six in the evening. Every one on board rushed to the
side to see the sailors lower him into his little boat, and I watched
him as far as the eye could see, for he carried with him my last message
to you.
We no sooner struck the breakwater than the ship began to roll, and
the tossing has continued for four days without cessation, for we are
following in the wake of a storm.
You asked me to tell you every little detail of life on board ship. You
little know the task you set me; and right here I desire to put myself
on record as begging the pardon of all writers on this subject for my
unkind thoughts of them. I see now, after only five days on shipboard,
why all descriptions are so unsatisfactory to those who have never
experienced a voyage.
In the first place, the word "deck" is most inadequate. One naturally
thinks that a deck is an open space on the top of a ship, similar to
that of a river steamboat. The decks are in reality wide piazzas—when
the sea is quiet. On them the passengers congregate—when all is well
with them and with the elements. I say "up on deck," when it is only
"out on the veranda." Flights of easy stairs connect the various floors.
These stairs are dancing continually, but one soon gets used to it
if one has his "sea legs," and usually arrives safely. This ship is
similar to an oval house of several stories, with galleries or verandas
running completely around each story, and any number of basements and
sub-basements; but with these we have nothing to do.
As I crossed the gangplank I landed on the saloon deck and entered the
only door on that side. I found myself in a small hallway, out of which
opened the ladies' saloon and the writing-rooms, and from which the
stairs descend to the floor where the dining-room and most of the berths
are situated. My stateroom is on the top story, so I have only to step
from our hallway on to the main deck.
I read the description which I have just written to the captain, and I
wish you could have heard him shout. He begged me to permit his "tiger"
to make a copy of it for him, and I did, but I was sorry the moment it
left my hands, for I know it is most absurd, and it was intended for you
only. Nevertheless, I'll venture the assertion that those who know will
readily see the picture, and those who do not know will get a pretty
good idea of how a ship looks.
MID-ATLANTIC:
Every one is out today, and as it is cold, the entire saloon deck
is lined with a much-wrapped, many-rugged assembly, whose chairs are
fastened to the house-side of the deck, while those who have their sea
legs are marching to and fro in front of the line of chairs. The deck
steward has the chairs placed for us each morning on the side free from
the winds. Most of the time these past days I have been sitting in my
chair looking at my feet, first with the sea and then with the sky, as
a background.
OFF QUEENSTOWN:
Oh, blessed day! We saw land for a few moments, and I have your dear
letters—two happy events. I ran away with my letters and have written
answers to them which are for your eyes alone. That reminds me to say,
that I think it would be better for me to write on one sheet of paper a
wee bit of a letter to you, telling you a few of the many nice things I
think of you, but which will interest no one but you. On another sheet
I will tell of the places I see and the people I meet, and this you may
send to the friends who are self-sacrificing enough to say they would
like to read about this little journey of mine.
I found on this ship the usual number of wise—and otherwise—passengers,
a few of whom are most interesting. Mr. and Mrs. P., of Philadelphia,
who are well-known philanthropists; an Englishman, whose care and
attention to an invalid wife and child forever clear his countrymen
from the contumely of indifference to their families; Mrs. F. and her
son; and a most charming Canadian gentleman, who has made the voyage a
delight for us.
Ruth and I are seated at the right and left of the dear old captain. The
table is served bountifully, and the viands are delicious. We really try
not to ask too many questions, but I fancy our endeavors are a failure.
Were I a captain of one of these ocean liners, I'd have something like
the following hung in each stateroom, along with "How to put on this
life-preserver when drowning."
First. This ship is fireproof, waterproof, and mal de mer proof.
Second. We will positively land on the — day of —, or on the next day,
or surely the next.
Third. The captain is (or is not) married, as the case may be. (I should
advise that it be written "is" in either case, to save trouble.)
These liners carry much freight, and are slow, taking usually nine days
for the ocean voyage, which together with the day down the Delaware,
another up the channel, and the delay caused by the storm, will keep us
on board thirteen days. It is because of the slow speed and the limited
number of passengers that this line is patronized by such a delightful
class of people who go chiefly for the quiet obtained on the sea.
ST. GEORGE'S CHANNEL:
"Floating around in my ink-pot" are many things which I intend to tell
you some day, but with the unsteady condition of this writing-table,
not now. Just a word today about my fellow-travelers.
Mrs. F., of Boston, reminds me of the Arabian proverb: "He who knows
not, and knows not that he knows not, is a fool; shun him. He who knows
not, and knows that he knows not, is simple; teach him. He who knows,
and knows not that he knows, is asleep; wake him. He who knows, and
knows that he knows, is wise; follow him."
Mrs. F. is one whom I should be willing to follow. She has with her
an invalid son, who looks older than she. She did not appear on deck
for many days, and kept entirely to herself. She came up one of those
days when I was alone on the deck. Joe, our deck steward, placed us in
Ruth's two chairs, one of which she had just vacated, while he and the
lady's servant fetched our chairs. When the chairs appeared they were
identical, and with the same initials on them. Joe knew mine well, and
the lady's servant knew hers. As the chairs were brought neither of us
spoke, but our eyes met and we laughed.
After a few moments, "I wonder," said she, "if they are spelled the
same, too." "I doubt it" I replied. That was all. The servants stared
in wonder and left. She smiles and bows each time we meet, and I must
confess I'd like to know what her given name is. On the sailing list it
is Mrs. Wilburn Godfrey F— and maid, and Mr. W. G. F— and servant.
We missed the tide, so the boat will not be able to land us at the dock,
but instead, we shall be compelled to go in on the tender, which is
approaching in the distance.