ILLUSTRATIONSFacingPageCastello MezzatorreTitleLime Walk, Oxford10National Gallery, London, fronting Trafalgar Square16Ventnor}Tennyson's House}20Shanklin, Isle of Wight}Street in Bonchurch}22Stoke-Poges, where Gray's "Elegy" was written24National Gallery, Edinburgh, Castle on Hill in background30Dryburgh Abbey, where Sir Walter Scott is buried32Dunluce Castle36Trinity College, Dublin48Old Steps and Sea Wall, Capri54Isola di Capri56Amalfi58Street Scene, Naples60The Pincian Hill, Rome68Stanza della Segnatura, Vatican Palace, Rome74Piazza della Signoria, Florence82Stairway Bargello Palace, Florence84The Grand Canal, Venice86Lake Maggiore, Isola Bella, Italy92Amsterdam106Ship Canal cut across the Isthmus of Corinth116The Acropolis as It Was}The Acropolis as It Is}118Landing at Smyrna120Constantinople122The Galata Bridge, Constantinople126Modern Nürnberg}Old Nürnberg}136Rue de Rivoli, showing Tuileries Gardens140Bois de Vincennes}Château d'Amboise}150Campo Santo, Genoa156Valley of the Rhone}Corniche Road between Nice and Monaco}158Château d'If}Almeria, Spain}160
BY WAYOF PREAMBLEAh me, ah me, that I should beSo 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 enjoybeing called "Miss"? But to go back to my telegram,—it served as mydéjeuner 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 shipwas 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:Therehas 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 aredancing 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:Everyone 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, blessedday! 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:"Floatingaround 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 toherself. 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.
Ah me, ah me, that I should beSo torn by my inconstancy;I fain would go—I tarry so,But see the world, I must—heigh-ho.
Ah me, ah me, that I should beSo torn by my inconstancy;I fain would go—I tarry so,But see the world, I must—heigh-ho.
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.
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 enjoybeing called "Miss"? But to go back to my telegram,—it served as mydéjeuner à la félicité. From that moment I was happy, and peace has taken possession of me since the coming of that dear message.
The shipwas 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!
Therehas 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 aredancing 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.
Everyone 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.
Oh, blessedday! 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.
"Floatingaround 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 toherself. 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.