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VACATION RAMBLES
BY
THOMAS HUGHES, Q.C.
('vacuus viator')
AUTHOR OF 'TOM BROWN'S SCHOOLDAYS'
PREFACE
Dear C So you want me to hunt up and
edit all the " Vacuus Viator " letters which rny good
old friends the editors of The Spectator have been
kind enough to print during their long and beneficent
ownership of that famous journal! But one who has
passed the Psalmist's " Age of Man," and is by no
means enamoured of his own early lucubrations (so
far as he recollects them), must have more diligence
and assurance than your father to undertake such a
task. But this I can do with pleasure — give them to
you to do whatever you like with them, so far as I
have any property in, or control over them.
How did they come to be written ? Well, in those
days we were young married folk with a growing
family, and income enough to keep a modest house
and pay our way, but none to spare for menus
plaisirs, of which " globe trotting " (as it is now
called) in our holidays was our favourite. So, casting
about for the wherewithal to indulge our taste, the
" happy thought " came to send letters by the way to
my friends at 1 Wellington Street, if they could see
their way to take them at the usual tariff for articles.
They agreed, and so helped us to indulge in our
vi Vacation Rambles
favourite pastime, and the habit once contracted has
lasted all these years.
How about the name ? Well, I took it from the
well-known line of Juvenal, " Cantab it vacuus coram
latrone viator," which may be freely rendered, " The
hard -up globe trotter will whistle at the highway-
man " ; and, I fancy, selected it to remind ourselves
cheerfully upon what slender help from the Banking
world we managed to trot cheerfully all across Europe.
I will add a family story connected with the name
which greatly delighted us at the time. One of the
letters reached your grandmother when a small boy-
cousin of yours (since developed into a distinguished
" dark blue " athlete and M.A. Oxon.) was staying
with her for his holidays. He had just begun Latin,
and was rather proud of his new lore, so your grand-
mother asked him how he should construe " Vacuus
Viator." After serious thought for a minute, and not
without a modest blush, he replied, " I think, granny,
it means a wandering cow " ! You must make my
peace with the "M.A. Oxon." if he should ever dis-
cover that I have betrayed this early essay of his in
classical translation.
Your loving Father,
THOS. HUGHES.
October 1895.
G
470
CONTENTS
EUROPE— 1862 to 1866
YEAR
PAGE
1862.
August 14.
Foreign Parts 1
22.
Bonn ....
4
29.
.Munich ....
9
September 2.
The Tyrol .
If)
10.
Vienna ....
20
13.
The Danube .
26
24.
Constantinople
32
30.
Constantinople
39
October 1.
Athens ....
45
4.
Athens
52
8.
The Run Home
60
1863.
September 13.
Dieppe ....
64
17.
Bathing at Dieppe
70
20.
Normandy
77
27.
Cleanings from Boulogne
83
1866.
August 14.
Blankenberghe
-7
September 1.
Belgian Bathing .
92
8.
Belgian Boats
97
Vlll
Vacation Rambles
PAGE
AMERICA
1870. August. On Board the Peruvian
Mouth of the St. Lawrence
Montreal .
Montreal .
Elmwood .
Elmwood .
September. Cambridge
New York
West Point
Niagara
Storm Lake
Fort Dodge
Chicago
Philadelphia
Washington
October. Southborough
Ithaca
AMERICA— 1880 to 1887
1880. September 1. The Cumberland Mountains
10. The Luxury of Loafing
Life in Tennessee
A Forest Ride
The Natives .
Our Forester
October 30. The Negro "Natives"
Contents
IX
YEAR
1880
October.
The Opening Day .
1884. Life in an American Liner
1884. September 16. Life in Texas
1885. 4. Crossing the Atlantic
1886. 24. Notes from the West .
1887. April 2. "Westward Ho ! .
September 19. The Hermit .
October 5. American Opinion on the Union
PAGE
222
228 f
233
238
243
248
252
257
1876.
1884. March
1888.
August
EUROPE— 1876 to 1895
A Winter Morning's Ride .
22. Southport
A Village Festival
The "Victoria," New Cut .
30. Whitby and the Herring Trade
31. Whitby and the Herring Trade
September 7. Sunday by the Sea
28. Singing-Matches in Wessex
1889. September 21. The Divining-Rod
1890. April 5. Sequah ....
August 15. French Popular Feeling
23. Royat les Bains .
30. Royat les Bains .
September 6. Auvergne en Fete
1891. April 1. Scoppio del Carro
1893. 8. A Scamper at Easter .
15. Lourdes ....
261
268
274
278
283
286
289
294
299
303
307
312
317
322
327
332
337
Vacation Rambles
YEAR
1893. April
July
1894. May.
October
1895. April
1870.
22. fontarabia .
2. Echoes from Auvergne
10. La Bourboule
17. Comite des Fetes .
24. Dogs and Flowers
1. Dutch Boys .
6. "Poor Paddy-Land ! "—I.
13. "Poor Paddy-Land ! "—II.
21. "Panem et Circenses"
Rome— Easter Day
Boston — John to Jonathan
PAGE
344
349
352
356
360
363
367
371
375
380
385
VACATION RAMBLES
EUROPE— 1862 to 1866
Foreign Parts, lUh August 1862.
Dear Mr. Editor — There are few sweeter moments in
the year than those in which one is engaged in choosing
the vacation hat. No other garment implies so much.
A vista of coming idleness floats through the brain as you
stop before the hatter's at different points in your daily
walk, and consider the last new thing in wideawakes.
Then there rises before the mind's eye the imminent bliss
of emancipation from the regulation chimney-pot of
Cockney England. Two-thirds of all pleasure reside in
anticipation and retrospect ; and the anticipation of the
yearly exodus in a soft felt is amongst the least alloyed
of all lookings forward to the jaded man of business.
By the way, did it ever occur to you, sir, that herein lies
the true answer to that Sphinx riddle so often asked in
vain, even of Notes and Queries: What is the origin of
the proverb " As mad as a hatter " 1 The inventor of the
present hat of civilisation was the typical hatter. There,
I will not charge you anything for the solution ; but we
are not to be for ever oppressed by the results of this
great insanity. Better times are in store for us, or I
mistake the signs of the times in the streets and shop
windows. Beards and chimney-pots cannot long co-exist.
B
%
Vacation Rambles
I was very nearly beguiled this year by a fancy article
which I saw in several windows. The purchase would
have been contrary to all my principles, for the hat in
question is a stiff one, with a low, round crown. But
its fascination consists in the system of ■ventilation —
all round the inside runs a row of open cells, which, in
fact, keep the hat away from the head, and let in so many
currents of fresh air. You might fill half the cells with
cigars, and so save carrying a case and add to the taste-
fulness of your hat at the same time, while you would get
plenty of air to keep your head cool through the remain-
ing cells.
My principles, however, rallied in time, and I came
away with a genuine soft felt after all, with nothing
but a small hole on each side for ventilation. The soft
felt is the only really catholic cover, equal to all occasions,
in which you can do anything ; for instance, lie flat on
your back on sand or turf, and look straight up into the
heavens — the first thing the released Cockney rushes to
do. Only once a year may it be always all our lots to
get a real taste of the true holiday feeling ; to drop down
into some handy place, where no letter can find us ; to
look up into the great sky, and over the laughing sea,
and think about nothing ; to unstring the bow, and fairly
say : " There shall no fight be got out of us just now ; so,
old world, if you mean to go wrong, you may go and be
hanged ! " To feel all the time that blessed assurance
which does come home to one at such times, and scarcely
ever at any other, that our falling out of the fight is not
of the least consequence ; that, whatever we may do, the
old world will not go wrong but right, and ever righter
— not our way, nor any other man's way, but God's
way. A good deal of sneering and snubbing has been
wasted of late, sir (as you have had more occasion
than one to remark), on us poor folks, who will insist on
holding what we find in our Bibles; what has been so
gloriously put in other language by the great poet of our
time : —
Vacation Rambles
That nothing walks with aimless feet ;
That not one life shall he destroy'd,
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
When God hath made the pile complete.
I suppose people who feel put out because we won't
Itelieve that the greatest part of creation is going to the
bad can never in the nature of things get hold of the true
holiday feeling, so one is wasting time in wishing it for
them. However, I am getting into quite another line
from the one I meant to travel in ; so shall leave specu-
lating and push across the Channel. There are several
questions which might be suggested with advantage to
the Civil Service Examiner, to be put to the next
Belgium attaches who come before them. Why are
Belgian hop-poles, on an average, five or six feet longer
than English ? How does this extra length affect the
crops ? The Belgians plant cabbages too, and other vege-
tables (even potatoes I saw) between the rows of hops.
Does it answer 1 All the English hop-growers, I believe,
scout the idea. I failed to discover what wood their hop-
poles are ? One of my fellow-travellers, by way of being
up to everything, informed me that they were grown in
Belgium on purpose; a fact which did not help me much.
He couldn't say exactly what wood it was. Then a very
large proportion of the female population of Belgium
spends many hours of the day, at this time of year, on its
knees in the fields ; and this not only for weeding pur-
poses, for I saw women and girls cutting the aftermath
and other light crops in this position. Certainly, they
are thus nearer their work, and save themselves stooping ;
but one has a sort of prejudice against women going
about the country on all fours, like Nebuchadnezzar. Is
it better for their health ? Don't they get housemaid's
knees 1 But, above all, is it we or the Belgians who don't
know in this nineteenth century, how to make corn
shocks 1 In cvovy part of England I have ever been in
in harvest time, we just make up the sheaves and then
simply stand six or eight of them together, the ears up-
Vacation Rambles
wards, and so make our shock. But the Belgian makes
his shock of four sheaves, ears upwards, and then on the
top of these places another sheaf upside down. This
crowning sheaf, which is tied near the bottom, is spread
out over the shock, to which it thus forms a sort of
makeshift thatch. One of the two methods must be
radically wrong. Does this really keep the rain out, and
so prevent the ears from growing in damp weather % I
should have thought it would only have helped to hold
the wet and increase the heat. If so, don't you think it
is really almost a casus belli? Quin said to the elderly
gentleman in the coffee-house (after he had handed him
the mustard for the third time in vain), dashing his hand
down on the table, " D you, sir, you shall eat
mustard with your ham ! " and so we might say to the
Belgians if they are wrong, " You shall make your shocks
properly." Fancy two highly civilised nations having
gone on these thousand years side by side, growing corn
and eating bread without finding out which is the right
way to make corn shocks.
Bonn, 22nd August 1862.
I am sitting at a table some forty feet long, from
which most of the guests have retired. The few left are
smoking and talking gesticulatingly. I am drinking
during the intervals of writing to you, sir, a beverage
composed of a half flask of white wine, a bottle of seltzer
water, and a lump of sugar (if you can get one of ice to
add it will improve the mixture). I take it for granted
that you despise the Rhine, like most Englishmen, but,
sir, I submit that a land where one can get the above
potation for a fraction over what one would pay for a
pot of beer in England, and can, moreover, get the
weather which makes such a drink deliciously refreshing,
is not to be lightly thought of. But I am not going into
a rhapsody on the Bhine, though I can strongly recom-
mend my drink to all economically disposed travellers.
Vacation Rambles
All I hope to do, is, to gossip with you, as I move along ;
and as my road lay up the Ehine, you must take that
with the rest.
Our first halt on the river was at Bonn. A university
town is always interesting, and this one more than most
other foreign ones, as the place where Prince Albert's
education was begun, and where Bunsen ended his life.
I made an effort to get to his grave, which I was told
was in a cemetery near the town, but could not find it.
I hope it will long remain an object of interest to English-
men after the generation who knew him has passed away.
There is no one to whom we have done more scanty
justice, and that unlucky and most unfair essay of W 's
is the crowning injustice of all. I am not going into his
merits as a statesman, theologian, or antiquary, which,
indeed, I am wholly incompetent to criticise. The only
book of his I ever seriously tried to master, his Church
of the Future, entirely floored me. But the wonderful
depth of his sympathy and insight ! — how he would listen
to and counsel any man, whether he were bent on dis-
covering the exact shape of the buckle worn by some
tribe which disappeared before the Deluge, or upon re-
generating the world after the newest nineteenth century
pattern, or anything between the two — we may wait a
long time before we see anything like it again in a man
of his position and learning. And what a place he filled
in English society ! I believe fine ladies grumbled about
" the sort of people " they met at those great gatherings
at Carlton Terrace, but they all went, and, what was more
to the purpose, all the foremost men and women of the
day went, and were seen and heard of hundreds of young
men of all nations and callings ; and their wives, if they
had any, were asked by Bunsen on the most thoroughly
catholic principles. And if any man or woman seemed
ill at ease, they would find him by their side in a minute,
leading them into the balcony, if the night were fine, and
pointing out, as he specially loved to do, the contrast of
the views up Waterloo Place on the one hand, and across
Vacation Rambles
the Green Park to the Abbey and the Houses, on the
other, or in some other way setting them at their ease
again with a tact as wise and subtle as his learning.
But I am getting far from the Rhine, I see, and the
University of Bonn. Of course I studied the titles of
the books exposed for sale in the windows of the book-
sellers, and the result, as regards English literature, was
far from satisfactory. We were represented in the shop
of the Parker and Son of Bonn, by one vol. of Scott's
Poems; the puff card of the London Society, with a
Millais drawing of a young man and woman thereupon,
and nothing more ; but, by way of compensation I
suppose, a book with a gaudy cover was put in a
prominent place, and titled Tag und Nacht in London, by
Julius Rodenburg. There was a double picture on the
cover : above, a street scene, comprising an elaborate
equipage with two flunkeys behind, a hansom, figures of
Highlanders, girls, blind beggars, etc., and men carrying
advertisements of " Samuel Brothers," and " Cremorne
Gardens " ; while in the lower compartment was an
underground scene of a policeman flashing his bull's eye
on groups of crouching folks ; altogether a loathsome kind
of book for one to find doing duty as the representative
book of one's country with young Germany. I was a
little consoled by seeing a randan named The Lorelei lying
by the bank, which, though not an outrigger, would not
have disgraced any building yard at Lambeth or at
Oxford. Very likely it came out of one of them, by the
way. But let us hope it is the first step towards the
introduction of rowing at Bonn, and that in a few years
Oxford and Cambridge may make up crews to go and beat
Bonn, and all the other German Universities, and a New
England crew from Cambridge, Massachusetts. What a
course that reach of the Rhine at Bonn would make !
No boat's length to be gained by the toss for choice of
sides, as at Henley or Putney ; no Berkshire or Middlesex
shore to be paid for. A good eight-oar race would teach
young Germany more of young England than any amount
Vacation Rambles
of perusal of Tag wnd Nacht, I take it. I confess myself
to a strong sentimental feeling about Rolandseck. The
story of Roland the Brave is, after all, one of the most
touching of all human stories, though tourists who drop
their H's may be hurrying under his tower every day in
cheap steamers ; and it is one of a group of the most
characteristic stories of the age of chivalry, all having a
connecting link at Roncesvalles. "What other battle
carries one into three such groups of romance as this of
Roland, the grim tragedy of Bernard del Carpio and his
dear father, and that of the peerless Durandarte 1 When
I was a boy there were ballads on all these subjects
which were very popular, but are nearly forgotten by
this time. I used to have great trouble to preserve a
serene front, I know, whenever I heard one of them well
sung, especially that of "Durandarte" (by Monk Lewis),
I believe. Ay, and after the lapse of many years I
scarcely know where to go for the beau ideal of knight-
hood summed up in a few words better than to that same
ballad : —
Kind in manners, fair in favour,
Mild in temper, fierce in fight, —
Warrior purer, gentler, braver,
Never shall behold the light.
But much as I prize Rolandseck for its memories of
chivalric constancy and tenderness, Mayence is my
favourite place on the Rhine, as the birthplace of Guten-
burg, the adopted home, and centre of the work of our
great countryman, St. Boniface, and the most fully peopled
and stirring town of modern Rhineland. We had only
an hour to spend there, so I sallied at once into the town
to search for Gutenburg's house — the third time I have
stai'ted on the same errand, and with the same result. I
didn't find it. But there it is ; at least the guide-books
say so. In vain did I beseechingly appeal to German
after German, man, woman, and maid, "Wo ist das Hans
von Gutenburg — das Haus wo Gutenburg wohnte V I got
either a blank stare, convincing me of the annoying fact
8 Vacation Rambles
that not a word I said was understood, or directions to
the statue, which I knew as well as any of them. At
last I fell upon a young priest, and, accosting him in
French, got some light out of him. He offered to take
me part of the way, and as we walked side by side,
suddenly turned to me with an air of pleased astonish-
ment, and said, " You admire Gutenburg, then 1 " To
which I replied, " Rather ! " Why, sir, how in the world
should you and I, and thousands more indifferent modern
Englishmen, not to mention those of all other nations, get
our bread but for him and his pupil Caxton 1 However,
the young priest could only take me to within two streets,
and then went on his way, leaving me with express
directions, in trying to follow which I fell speedily upon a
German fair. I am inclined to think that there are no
boys in Germany, and that, if there were, there would
be nothing for them to do ; but for children there is no
such place. This fair at Mayence was a perfect little
paradise for children. Think of our wretched merry-go-
rounds, sir, with nothing but some six or eight stupid
hobby-horses revolving on bare poles, and then imagine
such merry-go-rounds as those of Mayence fair. They
look like large umbrella tents ornamented with gay flags
and facetious paintings outside, and hung within, round
the central post which supports the whole, with mirrors,
flags, bells, pictures, and bright coloured drapery. Half
concealed by the red or blue drapery, is the proprietor of
the establishment, who grinds famous tunes on a first-rate
barrel organ when the merry-go-round is set going, and
keeps an eye on his juvenile fares. The whole is turned
by a pony or by machinery. Then, for mounts, the
children have choice of some thirty hobby-horses, or can
ride on swans or dragons, richly caparisoned, or in easy
vis-a-vis seats. When the complement of youthful riders
is obtained, on a signal off goes the barrel organ and the
pony and the whole concern — pictures, looking-glasses,
bells, drapery, and all begin to revolve, with a fascinating
jingling and emphasis, and at twice the pace of any British
Vacation Rambles
merry-go-round I ever saw. It is very comical to watch
the gravity of the little Deutsch riders. They are of all
classes, from the highly dressed little madchm, down to the
ragged carter-boy, with a coil of rope over his. shoulder,
and no shoes, riding a gilded swan, but all impressed with
the solemnity of the occasion. But here I am running on
about fun of the fair, and missing Gutenburg's house, as
I did in reality, finding in the midst of my staring and
grinning that I had only time to get to the boat ; so with
one look at Gutenburg's statue I went off.
The crops through all these glorious Rhine valleys
right away up to Heidelberg look splendid, particularly
the herb pantagruelion, which is more largely grown than
when I was last here. Eope enough will be made this
year from hemp grown between Darmstadt and Heidelberg
to hang all the scoundrels in the world, and the honest
men to boot ; and the tobacco looks magnificent. They
were gathering the leaves as we passed. A half-picked
tobacco field, with the bare stumps at one end, and the
rich-leaved plants at the other, has a comically forlorn
look.
Heidelberg I thought more beautiful than ever ; and
since I had been there a very fine hotel, one of the best I
have ever been in, has been built close to the station, with
a glass gallery 100 feet long, and more, adjoining the
" Speisesaal," in which you may gastronomise to your
heart's content, at the most moderate figure. Here we
bid adieu to the Rhineland.
Munich, 2Wi August 1862.
A bird's-eye view of any country must always be un-
satisfactory. Still it is better than nothing, and in the
absence of a human view, one may be thankful for it. My
view of Wurtemberg was of the most bird's-eye kind.
The first thing that strikes one is the absence of all fences
except in the immediate neighbourhood of towns. Even
the railway has no fence, except for a few yards where a
io Vacation Rambles
road crosses the line, and here and there a hedge of acacia,
or barberry bushes (the berries were hanging red ripe on
the latter), which are very pretty, but would not in any
place keep out a seriously-minded cow or pig.
Wurtemberg is addicted to the cultivation of crops
which minister to man's luxuries rather than to his
necessities. The proportion of land under fruit, poppies,
tobacco, and hops, to that under corn, was very striking.
There was a splendid hemp crop here also. They were
gathering the poppy-heads, as we passed, into sacks. The
women and girls both here and in Bavaria seem to do
three-fourths of the agricultural work ; the harder, such
as reaping and mowing, as well as the lighter. The beds
of peat are magnificent, and very neatly managed. At
first I thought we had entered enormous black brick-fields,
for the peat is cut into small brick-shaped pieces, and
stacked in rows, just as one sees in the best managed of
our brick-fields. As one nears Stuttgart the village
churches begin to show signs of the difference in longitude.
Gothic spires and arches give place to Eastern clock-
towers, with tops like the cupolas of mosques, tinned over,
and glittering in the hot sun. I hear that it was a fancy
of the late Emperor Joseph to copy the old enemies of his
country in architecture ; but that would not account for
the prevalence of the habit in his neighbour's territory.
I fancy one begins to feel the old neighbourhood of the
Turks in these parts. The houses are all roomy, and
there is no sign of poverty amongst the people. They
have a fancy for wearing no shoes and scant petticoats in
many districts ; but it is evidently a matter of choice.
Altogether, the whole fine, open, well-wooded country,
from Bruchsal to Munich, gives one the feeling that an
easy-going, well-to-do people inhabit and enjoy it.
As for Munich itself, it is a city which surprised me
more pleasantly than almost any one I ever remember to
have entered. One had a sort of vague notion that the
late king had a taste for the fine arts, and spent a good
deal of his own and his subjects' money in indulging the
Vacation Rambles 1 1
taste aforesaid in his capital. But one also knew that he
had been tyrannised over by Lola Montes, and had made
a countess of her — and had not succeeded in weathering
1848; so that, on the whole, one had no great belief in
any good work from such a ruler.
Munich gives one a higher notion of the ex-king ; as
long as the city stands, he will have left his mark on it.
On every side there are magnificent new streets, and public
buildings and statues ; the railway terminus is the finest
I have ever seen ; every church, from the Cathedral down-
wards, is in beautiful order, and highly decorated ; and it
is not only in the public buildings that one meets with
the evidences of care and taste. The hotel in which we
stayed, for instance, is built of brick, covered with some
sort of cement, which gives it the appearance of terra-cotta,
and is for colour the most fascinating building material.
The ceilings and cornices of the rooms are all carefully
and tastefully painted, and all about the town one sees
frescoes and ornamentation of all kinds, which show that
the people delight in seeing their city look bright and
gay ; and every one admits that all this is due to the ex-
king Lewis. But he has another claim on the gratitude
of the good folk of Munich. The Bavarians were given
to beer above all other people, and the people of Munich
above all other Bavarians, long before he came to the
throne ; and former kings, availing themselves of the
national taste, had established a " Hof-Breihaus," where
the monarch sold the national beverage to his people.
King Lewis found the character of the royal beer not
what it should be, and the rest of the metropolitan
brewers were also falling away into evil ways of adulterat-
ing and drugging. He reformed the " Hof-Breihaus," so
that for many years nothing but the soundest possible
beer was brewed there, which is sold to the buyers and
yet cheaper than in any other house in Munich. The
public taste has been thus so highly educated that there
is no selling unwholesome beer now. A young artist took
me to this celebrated tap. Unluckily it was a wet even-
12 Vacation Rambles
ing, so we had to sit at one of the tables, under a long
line of sheds, instead of in an adjacent garden. There
was a great crowd, some 300 or 400 imbibers jammed
together, of all ranks. At our table the company were
the artist and myself, a Middlesex magistrate, two privates,
and a non-commissioned officer, and a man whom I set
down as a small farmer. My back rubbed against a
vociferous student, who was hobnobbing with all comers.
There were Tyrolese and other costumes about, one or
two officers, and a motley crowd of work people and other
folk. The royal brew-house is in such good repute that
no trouble whatever is taken about anything but having
enough beer and a store of stone drinking-mugs, with tops
to them forthcoming. Cask after cask is brought out and
tapped in the vaulted entrance to the cellars, and a queue
of expectant thirsty souls wait for their turn. I only
know as I drank it how heartily I wished that my poor
overworked brethren at home could see and taste the
like. But it would not pay any of our great brewers to
devote themselves to the task of selling really wholesome
drink to the poor ; and I fear the Prince of Wales is not
likely to come to the rescue. He might find easier jobs
no doubt, but none that would benefit the bodily health
of his people more. The beer is so light that it is scarcely
possible to get drunk on it. Many of the frequenters of
the place sit there boosing for four or five hours daily,
and the chance visitors certainly do not spare the liquor ;
but I saw no approach to drunkenness, except a good deal
of loud talk.
The picture collections, which form, I believe, the great
attraction of Munich, disappointed me, especially the
modern ones in the new Pinacothek, collected by the ex-
king, and to which he is constantly adding now that he is
living at his ease as a private gentleman. I daresay that
they may be very fine, but scarcely any of them bite ; I
like a picture with a tooth in it — something which goes
into you, and which you can never forget, like the great
picture of Nero walking over the burning ruins of Eome,
Vacation Rambles i x
3
or the execution picture in the Spanish department, or
the Christian slave sleeping before the opening of the
amphitheatre, or Judas coming on the men making
the cross, in the International Exhibition. I have read
no art criticism for years, so that I do not know whether
I am not talking great heresy. But, heresy or not, I am
for the right of every man to his own opinion in matters
of art, and if an inferior painting gives me real pleasure
on account of its subject, I mean to enjoy it and praise it,
all the fine art critics in Christendom notwithstanding. The
pictures of the most- famous places in Greece, made since
the election of the Bavarian Prince Otho to the throne of
Greece, have a special interest of their own ; but apart
from these and some half dozen others, I would far sooner
spend a day in our yearly exhibition than in the new
Pinacothek. The colossal bronze statue of Bavaria is the
finest thing of the kind I have ever seen ; but the most
interesting sight in Munich to an Englishman must be the
Church of St. Boniface, not the exquisite colouring propor-
tions, or the magnificent monolithic columns of gray
marble, but the frescoes, which tell the story of the saint
from the time when he knelt and prayed by his sick
father's bed to the bringing back of his martyred body to
Mayence Cathedral. The departure of St. Boniface from
Netley Abbey for Rome, to be consecrated Apostle to the
Germans, struck me as the best of them ; but, altogether,
they tell very vividly the whole history of the Englishman
who has trodden most nearly in St. Paul's footsteps. We
have reared plenty of great statesmen, poets, philosophers,
soldiers, but only this one great missionary. Yet no
nation in the world has more need of St. Bonifaces than
we just now. The field is ever widening, in India, China,
Africa. "We can conquer and rule, and teach the heathen
to make railways and trade, but don't seem to be able to
get at their hearts and consciences. One fears almost
that were a St. Boniface to come, we should only measure
him by our common tests, and probably pronounce him
worthless, or a dangerous enthusiast. But one day, when
14 Vacation Rambles
men's work shall be tested by altogether different tests
from ours of the enlightened nineteenth century kind, it
will considerably surprise some of us to see how the order
of merit will come out. We shall be likely to have to
ask concerning St. Boniface — whose name is scarcely
known to one Englishman in a hundred — and of others
like him in spirit, of whom none of us have ever heard,
Who are these countrymen of ours, and whence come
they 1 And we shall hear the answer which St. John
heard : " Isti sunt qui venerunt ex magna tribulatione
et laverunt stolas suas in sanguine Agni." I felt very
grateful to Munich for having appreciated the great
Apostle to the Germans.
The one building in Munich which is quite unworthy
of the use to which it is put, is the English Church. The
service is performed in a sort of dry cellar, under the
Odeon. W T e had a very small congregation, but it was
very pleasant to hear how they all joined in the responses.
What a pity it is that we are always ready to do it abroad,
and shut up again as soon as we get home. Even the
singing prospered greatly, though we had no organ.
But, alas ! sir, the Colonial Church Society have done
their best to spoil this part of our service abroad. They
seem to have accepted from the editor as a gift, the
stereotyped plates of a hymn-book, copies of which were
placed about in the Munich church, and, I daresay, may
be found all over the Continent. The editor has thought
it desirable to improve our classical hymns. Conceive
the following substitution for Bishop Ken's " Let all thy
converse be sincere " —
In conversation be sincere ;
Make conscience as the noon -day clear :
Think how th' all-seeing God thy ways
And all thy secret thoughts surveys.
This is only a fair specimen of the book. Surely the
Colonial Church Society had better hastily return the
stereotype plates with thanks.
Vacation Rambles 15
The Tyrol, 2nd September 1862.
Next to meeting an old friend by accident, there is
nothing more pleasant than coming in long vacation on
some flower or shrub which reminds one of former holiday
ramblings. In the Tyrol the other day we came suddenly
on a bank in the mountains gemmed over with the creamy
white star of the daisy of Parnassus, and it accompanied
us, to our great delight, for 200 miles or more, till
we got fairly down into the plains again. The last
time I had seen it was on Snowdon years ago. When we
got a little higher I pounced on a beautiful little gentian,
which I had never seen before except on the Alps above
Lenk, in Switzerland (the Hauen Moos the pass was called,
or some such name — how spelt, goodness knows), which I
once crossed with two dear friends on the most beautiful
day I ever remember.
The flora of the Tyrol, at least that part of it which
lies by the roadside, seems to be much the same as ours.
With the above exceptions, I scarcely saw a flower which
does not grow on half the hills in England ; but their
size and colouring was often curiously different. The
Michaelmas daisy and ladies' fingers, for instance, were
much brighter and more beautiful ; on the other hand,
there was the most tender tiny heartsease in the world,
and forget-me-nots, which were very plentiful here and
there, were quite unlike ours — delicate little creatures, of
the palest blue in the world, all the fleshiness and com-
fortable look, reminding one of marriage settlements and
suitable establishments, gone clean out of them. In
moving eastward with the happy earth you may easily
get from Munich to Strasburg in one day ; but, if you do,
you will miss one of the greatest treats in the world, and
that is a run through the Tyrol, which you may do
from Munich with comfort in a week. There is a little
rail which runs you down south or so to Homburg, on
the edge of the mountain country, from whence you may
choose your conveyance, from post carriage down to
Shanks' nag. If you follow my advice, whatever else you
1 6 Vacation Rambles
do you will take care to see the Finstermunz Pass, than
which nothing in the whole world can be more beautiful.
I rather wonder myself that the Tyrol has not drawn
more of our holiday folk, Alpine Club and all, from
Switzerland. The Orteler Spitz and the glaciers of his
range are as fine, and I should think as dangerous, as any-
thing in the Swiss Alps — the lower Alps in the Tyrol are
quite equal to their western sisters ; and there is a soft
Italian charm and richness about the look and climate of
the southern valleys, that about Botzen especially, which
Switzerland has nothing to match. The luxuriance of the
maize crops (the common corn of the country) and of the
vines trained over trellis work in the Italian fashion, and
of the great gourds and vegetable marrows which roll
their glorious leaves and flowers and heavy fruit over
the spare corners and slips of the platforms on which the
vineyards rest — the innumerable fruit-trees, pears, apples,
plums, peaches, and pomegranates all set in a framework
of beautiful wooded mountains, from which the course of
the streams may be traced down through all the richness
of the valley by their torrent beds of tumbled rock — â–
remind us vividly of the descriptions of the Promised
Land in the Old Testament. Then the contrast of the
people to the Bavarians is as great as that of the countries.
The latter seem to live the easiest, laziest life of all nations,
in their rich low flats, which the women are quite able to
cultivate, while the men drink beer and otherwise disport
themselves. But in the part of the Tyrol next Bavaria it
is all grim earnest : " Ernst is das Leben " must be their
motto if they are to get in their crops at all, and keep
their little patches of valley and hanging fields cultivated
— and it does seem to be their motto. After passing
through the country one can quite understand how the
peasantry came to beat the regular troops of France and
Bavaria time after time half a century ago, and the
memoirs of that holy war hang almost about every rock.
There is no mistake here about battle-fields, and no
difficulty in realising the scene : the march of columns
Vacation Rambles 1 7
along the gorges, the piles of rock and tree above, with
Tyrolean marksmen behind, the voices calling across over
the heads of the invaders " Shall we begin 1 " " In the
name of the Holy Trinity, cut all loose"; and then the
crash and confusion, the panic and despair, and the swoop
of the mountaineers on the remnant of their foes. A
great part of the country must be exceedingly poor, and
yet oidy in the neighbourhood of two or three villages
were we asked for alms, and then only by small children,
who had apparently been demoralised by the passage of
carriages. Except from one of these children, a small
boy who flirted his cap in my face, and made a villainous
grimace, when he got tired of running, and from the dogs,
we had no uncourteous look or word. The dogs, however,
are abominable mongrels, and there was scarcely one in
the country which did not run barking and snapping after
us. The people seem to me very much pleasanter to
travel amongst than the Swiss.
I had expected to find them a people much given to
the outward forms and ceremonies of religion at any rate
— every guide-book tells one thus much ; but I was not
at all prepared for the extraordinary hold which their
Christianity had laid upon the whole external life of the
country. You can't travel a mile in the Tyrol along any
road without coming upon a shrine — in general by the
wayside, often in the middle of the fields. I examined
several hundreds of these ; many of them little rough
penthouses of plank, some well-built tiny chapels. I wish
I had kept an exact account of the contents, but I am
quite sure I am within the mark in saying that nine out
of ten contain simply a crucifix ; of the rest, the great
majority contain figures or paintings of the Virgin or
Child, and a few those of some patron saint. All bore
marks of watchful care ; in many, garlands of flowers or
berries, or an ear or two of ripe maize, were hung round
the Figure on the cross. Then in every village in which
we slept, bells began ringing for matins at five or six, and
in every case the congregation seemed to be very large in
C
i8 Vacation Rambles
proportion to the population. I was told, and believe,
that in all the houses, even in the inns of most of these
villages, there is family worship every evening at a specified
hour, generally at seven. We met peasants walking along
the road bare-headed, and chanting mass. I came sud-
denly upon parish priests and poor women praying before
the crucifix by the wayside. The ostlers and stable-men
have the same habit as our own, of pasting or nailing up
rude prints on the stable-doors, and of all those which I
examined while we were changing horses, or where we
stopped for food or rest, there was only one which was
not on a sacred subject. In short, to an Englishman
accustomed to the reserve of his own country on such
subjects, the contrast is very startling. If a Hindoo or
any other intelligent heathen were dropped down in any
English country, he might travel for days without know-
ing whether we have any religion at all ; but, most
assuredly, he could not do so in the Tyrol. Now which
is the best state of things 1 I believe Her Majesty has no
stauncher Protestant than I amongst her subjects, but I
own that a week in the Tyrol has made me reconsider a
thing or two. Outwardly, in short, the Tyroleans are the
most religious people in Europe. Of course I am no
judge after a week's tour whether their faith has gone as
deep as it has spread wide. You can only speak of the
bridge as it carries you. Our bills were the most reason-
able I have ever met with, and I could not detect a single
attempt at imposition in the smallest particular. I went
into the fruit market at Meran, and, after buying some
grapes, went on to an old woman who was selling figs.
She was wholly unable to understand my speech, so, being
in a hurry, I put a note for the magnificent sum of ten
kreutzer (or 3d. sterling) into her hand, making signs to her
to put the equivalent in figs into a small basket I was
carrying. This she proceeded to do, and when she had
piled eight or ten figs on the grapes I turned to go, but
by vehement signs she detained me, till she had given me
the full tale, some three or four more. She was only a
Vacation Rambles 19
fair specimen of what I found on all sides. The poor old
soul had not mastered our legal axiom of caveat emptor,
but her trading morality had something attractive about
it. They may be educated in time into buying cheap and
selling dear, but as yet that great principle does not seem
to have dawned on them.
There may be some danger of superstition in this
setting up of crucifixes and sacred prints by the wayside
and on stable-doors, but, on the other hand, the Figure on
the cross, meeting one at every corner, is not unlikely, I
should think, to keep a poor man from the commonest
vices to which he is tempted in his daily life, if it does
no more. He would scarcely like to stagger by it drunk
from the nearest pot-house. If stable-boys are to
have rough woodcuts on their doors, one of the Cruci-
fixion or of the Mater Dolorosa is likely to do them
more good than the winner of the Derby or Tom
Savers.
But my letter is getting too long for your columns, so
I can only beg all your readers to seize the first chance of
visiting the Tyrol. I shall be surprised if they do not
come away with much the same impressions as I have.
It is a triad land, above all that I have ever seen — a land
in which a psalm of joy and thankfulness seems to be
rising to heaven from every mountain top and valley, and,
mingled with and beneath it, the solemn low note of a
people " breathing thoughtful breath " — an accompaniment
without which there is no true joy possible in our world,
without which all attempt at it rings in the startled ear
like the laugh of a madman. Those words of the old
middle -age hymn seemed to be singing in my ears all
through the Tyrol : —
Fac me vere tecum flere,
CruciBxo condolere,
Donee ego vixero.
I shall never find a country in which it will do one more
good to travel.
20 Vacation Rambles
Vienna, 10th September 1862.
The stage Englishman in foreign countries must be
always an object of interest to his countrymen. He is
a decidedly popular institution in Germany, not the least
like the Dundreary type, or the sort of top-booted half fool,
half miscreant, one sees at a minor theatre in Paris. The
latest Englishmen on the boards of the summer theatres
here are a Lord Mix-pickl, and his man Jack, but the most
popular, and those which appear to be regarded in father-
land as the real thing, are the Englishmen in a piece called
"The Four Sailors." It opens with a yawning chorus.
Four young Englishmen are discovered sitting at a German
watering-place, reading copies of the Times and Post, and
yawning fearfully. The chorus done, one says, " The
funds are at 84." "I bet you they are at 86," says
another, and on this point they become lively. It appears
by the talk which ensues, that they have come abroad
resolved on finding some romantic adventure before marry-
ing, which they are all desirous of doing. This they found
impossible at home ; hitherto have not succeeded here ;
have only succeeded in trampling on the police arrange-
ments, and getting bored. They all imitate one another
in speech and action, saying " Yaas " in succession very
slowly, and always looking at one another deliberately
before acting. Now the four sailors appear, who are three
romantic young women and their maid, disguised as
sailors, under the care of their aunt, a stout easy-going
old lady, dressed as a boatswain, and of lax habits in the
matters of tobacco and drink. After hornpipe dancing
and other diversions, the young ladies settle to go and
bathe, and cross the stage where the Englishmen are
carrying their bathing-dresses. A cry is raised that their
boat is upset ; whereupon the Englishmen look at one
another. At last one gets up, takes off his coat, folds it
up, and puts it carefully on his chair, ditto with waistcoat
and hat, the others doing the same. They walk off in Indian
file, and return each with a half-drowned damsel across his
shoulders. Having deposited their burthens, they return
Vacation Rambles 21
to the front of the stage to dress, when one suggests that
they have never been introduced, upon which, after a
pause, and looking solemnly at each other and the
audience, they ejaculate all together, " Got dam ! " They
then take refuge in beer, silence, and pipes. At last one
says, "This is curious!" Three yaas', and a pause. Another,
" This is an adventure ! " Three yaas', and a longer pause.
At last, "Dat ist romantisch ! " propounds another. Tumult-
uous yaas' break forth at this discovery. The object of
their journey is accomplished, they marry the four sailors,
and return to love and Britain.
The summer theatres are charming institutions, but
somewhat casual. For instance, while we were at Ischl,
there were no performances because the weather was too
fine. Ischl itself is wonderfully attractive, and as he has
not the chance of getting a seaside watering-place, the
Kaiser Konig has shown much taste in the selection of
Ischl. The Traun and Ischl, which meet here, are both
celebrated for beauty and trout (a young Englishman was
wading about and having capital sport while we were
there). You get fine views of glaciers from the hills
which rise on all sides close to the town, and the five
valleys at the junction of which it lies are all finely
wooded and well worth exploring. The town is furnished
with a drinking-hall (but no gambling), baths, a casino,
pretty promenades, and Herzogs and other grand folk,
with Hussar and other officers in plenty to enliven them.
You can dance every evening almost if you like, and
gloves are fabulously good, and only a florin a pair for
men, or with two buttons, for ladies, a florin and ten
kreutzers ; so, having regard to the number which are
now found necessary in London, it would almost pay
young persons to visit Ischl once a year to make their
purchases. There is also a specialty in the way of pretty
old-fashioned looking jewellery made and sold here cheap,
but the Passau pearls found in the great cockle-shells of
these parts are dear, though certainly very handsome. I
must not forget the rifle-range amongst the attractions of
22 Vacation Rambles
the place. I fell in with two members of the Inns of
Court, and we heard the well-known crack, and soon
hunted out the scene of operations. We found some
Austrian gentlemen practising at 100 yards at a target
with a small black centre, within which was a scarcely
distinguishable bull's-eye. When a centre is made the
marker comes out, bows, waves his arms twice, and utters
two howls called " yodels." When the bull's-eye is struck
a shell explodes behind, the Austrian eagle springs up
above the target, and a Tyrolean, the size of life, from
each side — which performance so fascinated one of my
companions that he made interest with the shooters, who
allowed him to use one of their rifles. I rejoice to say
that he did not disgrace the distinguished corps to which
he belongs. At his first shot he obtained the bow and
two howls from the marker, and at his fourth the
explosion and appearances above described followed,
whereupon he wisely retired on his laurels.
You proceed eastwards from Ischl, down the beautiful
valley of the Traun to Eben ; see the great store-place
for the salt and wood of the district. The logs accompany
you, in the river, all the way down ; and it is amusing to
watch their different ways of floating. Such of them as
are not stopped in transit by the hooks of the inhabitants
are collected by a boom stretched across the head of the
Gmiinden Lake, on which you take boat at Eben See.
The skipper of the steamer is an Englishman, who has
been there for thirty years — a quiet matter-of-fact man,
who collects his own tickets, wears no uniform, and has a
profound disbelief in the accuracy of the information
furnished to tourists in these parts by the natives. Long
absence from home has somewhat depressed him, but he
lights up for a few moments when he gets on his paddle-
box and orders the steam to be put on to charge the
boom. But travellers should consult him if they want
correct information, and should not trust in " Bradshaw."
The lion of the neighbourhood is the Traun Falls ; and a
station has been opened on the railway to Lintz to
Vacation Rambles 23
facilitate the seeing of the falls, which station is not even
mentioned in the " Bradshaw " for August 1862. This
is too bad.
I had considerable opportunities of seeing the state of
the country in Austria. The people are prosperous and
independent to a degree which much astonished me. They
are almost all what we should call yeomanry, owning from
twenty to two hundred acres of land. Even the labourers,
who work for the great proprietors, own their own cottages
and an acre or so of land round ; in fact, the Teutonic
passion for owning land is so strong that, unless a man
can acquire some, he manages to emigrate. Since 1848
the communes have stepped into the position of lords of
the manors, and own most of the woods and the game.
The great proprietors pay them for the right of sporting
over their own lands. In fact, whatever may be the case
with the higher classes, the people here seem to have it
much their own way since 1848. We spent a Sunday after-
noon in the palace gardens at Schonbrunn, into which
half the populace of Vienna, smoking vile-smelling cigars,
seemed to have poured in omnibuses and cabs, which stood
before the palace, and on foot. We (the people) occupied
the whole of the gardens, and a splendid military band
played for our behoof. You reach the gardens by passing
under the palace, so that King People was everywhere,
and the Kaiser Konig, if he wants retirement, must stay
in his private rooms. A report spread that the Emperor
and Empress were coming out, whereupon King People,
and we amongst them, swept into the lower part of the
palace, and right up to a private staircase, at the foot of
which an open carriage was standing. A few burly and
well-behaved guardsmen remonstrated good-humouredly,
but with no effect. There we remained in block, men,
women, and children, the pipes and cigars were not
extinguished, and the smell was anything but imperial.
Presently the Emperor and Empress came down, and t lie
carriage passed at a foot's pace through the saluting and
pleased crowd. The Empress is the most charming-look-
24 Vacation Rambles
ing royal personage I have ever seen, and seemed to think
it quite right that the people should occupy her house and
grounds. Fancy omnibuses driving into the Court-yard
of Buckingham Palace, and John Bull proceeding to
occupy the private gardens ! John himself would decidedly
think that the end of the world was come. The Con-
stitution, too, seems to work well from all I heard. The
Court party has ceased almost to struggle for power. It
revenges itself, however, in social life. Society (so called)
is more exclusive in Vienna than anywhere else, and
consists of some 400 or 500 persons all told. Even the
most distinguished soldiers and statesmen have not the
erdrfe. Benedek's family is not in society, nor Schmerling's,
though I hear his daughter is one of the prettiest and most
ladylike girls in Austria. All which is very silly, doubt-
less, but the chief sufferers are the 400 inhabitants who
drive in the Prater, and go to the Leichtenstein and
Schwartzenburg parties, and after all, if aristocracies in
the foolish sense are inevitable, an aristocracy of birth is
preferable to one of money, or, me judice, of intellect,
seeing that the latter gives itself at least as absurd airs,
and is likely to be much more mischievous. On the
other hand, my Hungarian sympathies have been some-
what shaken since visiting the country. I suppose the
national dress has something to say to it. An Englishman
cannot swallow braided coats, and tight coloured pants,
and boots all at once, and the carriage and airs of the men
are offensive. I say this more on the judgment of several
of my country-women on this point than on my own, but
from my own observation I can say that Pesth, to a mere
passer-by, has all the appearances of the most immoral
capital in the world. In the best shops, in the best
streets, there are photographs and engravings exhibited
which, with us, would speedily call Lord Campbell's Act
into operation. And the Hay market is in many respects
moral in comparison with many parts of Pesth. It is the
only place in Europe where I have seen men going about
drunk before midday. In short, you will perceive that
Vacation Rambles 25
my inspection inclines me to suspect that there may be
more than one has been wont to believe in the assertion,
that the Constitution we hear so much of is aristocratic
and one which will give back old feudal privileges to a
conquering race and enable them to oppress Slaves, Croats,
etc., as they did before 1848. There is, everybody ad-
mits, a large discontented class in Hungary, composed
chiefly of the poor nobility (who have long ago spent their
compensation money), and professional men, especially
advocates, but it is strenuously maintained that the great
mass of the people have been far better off' in all ways
and more contented since 1849. I don't pretend to give
you anything except the most apparently truthful evidence
I can pick up by the wayside, and the observations of my
own eyes, and certainly the latter have not been favourable to
Hungary in any way, though they look certainly very like
a fighting race, these Magyars. The railroad from Pesth
to Basiash, where one embarks on the Danube, passes
through enormous flats, heavy for miles and miles with
maize and other crops, and very thinly peopled. It
is a constant wonder where the people can come from to
reap and garner it all. The great fault of the country is
the dust, which is an abominable nuisance. Certainly the
facilities for travelling are getting to be all that can be
wished in our time. A little more than forty-eight hours
will bring a man, who can stand night journeys, to
Vienna ; after resting a night, eighteen hours more will
bring him to Basiash, where he will at once plunge into
the old world of turbans and veiled women, minarets and
mosques; man and beast and bird, houses and habits, .ill
strange and new to him ; and if the Danube fares were not.
atrociously high, there are few things I would more
earnestly recommend to my holiday-making countrymen
than -a trip down that noblest of European rivers. Con-
sidering the present state of political matters, too, in the
world, he can hardly select a more interesting country.
Certainly the Eastern question gains wonderfully in
interest when one has seen ever so little of the lands and
26 Vacation Rambles
people about which the wisest heads of all the wisest
statesmen of our day are speculating and scheming — not
very wisely, I fear, at present.
The Danube, 13^ September 1862.
The Rhine may, perhaps, fairly be compared with the
Upper Danube, between Lintz and Vienna, even between
Vienna and Pesth. There is no great disparity so far,
either in the size of themselves or of the hills and plains
through which they run. The traveller's tastes, artistic
and historical, decide his preference. The constant
succession of ruined holds of the old oppressors of the
earth which he meets on the Rhine, are wanting on the
Danube. It is certainly a satisfaction to see such places
thoroughly ruined — to triumph over departed scoundrelism
wherever one comes on its relics. As a compensation,
however, he will find on the Danube a huge building or
two, such as that of the Benedictine Monastery at Molk,
or the Cathedral and Palace of the Primate of Hungary
at Gran, of living interest, and with work still to do in
the world. There is not much to choose between the
banks of the two streams in the matter of general
historical interest, though to me the long struggle between
the Christian and the Moslem, the footprints of which
meet one on all sides, gives the Danube slightly the
advantage even in this respect. There are longer gaps of
flat uninteresting country on the eastern stream, no
doubt, which may be set off against the sameness and
neatness of the perpetual vineyard on the western ; and
on the Danube you get, now and then, a piece of real
forest, which you never see, so far as I remember, on the
Rhine.
Below Belgrade, however, all comparison ceases. The
Rhine is half the size of its rival, and flows westward
through the highest cultivation and civilisation to the
German Ocean, while the huge Danube rushes through
the Carpathians into a new world — an eastern people,
living amidst strange beasts and birds, in a country
Vacation Rambles 2 J
which is pretty much as Trajan left it. You might as
well compare Killiecrankie to the Brenner Pass, as any
thing on the Rhine to the Kazan, the defile by which the
Danube struggles through the western Carpathians.
Here the river contracts in breadth from more than a
mile to between 200 and 300 yards; the depth is 170
feet. The limestone rocks on both sides rise to near
2000 feet, coming sheer down to the water in many
places, clothed with forest wherever there is hold for
roots. Along the Servian side, on the face of the
precipice, a few feet above the stream, run the long line
of sockets in which the beams were fastened for the
support of his covered road by Trajan's legions. A
tablet and an inscription 1740 years old still bear, I
believe, the great Roman's name, and a memorial of his
Dacian campaign, though I cannot vouch for the fact, as
we shot by it at twenty miles an hour ; but I could
distinctly see Roman letters. On the left bank the
Austrians have carried a road by blasting and masonry ;
and a cavern which was held for weeks by 400 men
against a Turkish army in 1692 commands the whole
pass.
We had scarcely entered the defile when some eight
or ten eagles appeared sweeping slowly round over a spot
in the hanging wood, where probably a deer or goat was
dying. I counted upwards of thirty before we left the
Kazan ; several were so near the boat that you could
plainly mark the glossy barred plumage, and every turn
of the body and tail as they steered about upon those
marvellous, motionless wings. One swooped to the water
almost within shot, but missed the fish, or whatever his
intended prey might be. A water ouzel or two were the
only other living creatures which appeared to draw our
attention for a moment from the sway of the mighty
stream and the succession of the dizzy heights. Below
the pass the stream widens again. You lose something
of the feeling of power in the mass of water below yon,
though the superficial excitement of whirl, and rush, and
28 Vacation Rambles
eddy, is much increased. Here, at Orsova, a small
military town on the frontier line between Hungary and
Wallachia, we turned out into a flat-bottomed steamer,
with four tiny paddle-wheels, drawing only some three
feet of water, which was to carry us over the Iron Gates,
as the rapids are called ; and beautifully the little duck
fulfilled her task. The English on board, three ladies
and five men, had already fraternised; we occupied the
places in the bows. The deck was scarcely a yard above
water, and there were no bulwarks, only a strong rail to
lean against. The rush of the stream here beat any mill-
race I have ever seen, and the little steamer bounded
along over the leaping, boiling water at the rate of a fast
train. Twice only she plunged a little, shipping just
enough water to cause some discomposure amongst the
ladies' dresses, and to wet our feet. We shot past the
wreck of a Turkish iron steamer in the wildest part,
which had grounded on its way up to Belgrade with
munitions of war. The Servians had boarded and burnt
her, and there she lay, and will lie, till the race washes
her to pieces, for there is nothing to be got out of her
now except the iron of her hull. Below the Iron Gate, a
fine Austrian steamer received us, and we moved statelily
out into the stream on our remaining thirty hours' voyage.
We had left the mountains, but were still amongst
respectable hills covered with forest, full of game, an
engineer officer who was on board told us, and plenty
of wolves to be had in the winter — too many, indeed,
occasionally. A friend of his had knocked up a little
wooden shooting-box in these Wallachian forests — a rough
affair, with a living-room below, a bedroom above. He
had found the wolves so shy that he scarcely believed in
them ; however, to give the matter a fair trial, he asked
three or four friends to his box, bought a dead horse, and
roasted him outside. The speedy consequence was such
a crowd of wolves that he and his friends had to take
refuge in the bedroom and fight for their lives ; as it
was, the wolves were very near starving them out. And
Vacation Rambles 29
now the river had widened again, and water-fowl could
rest and feed on the surface.
The hot evening, for hot enough it was, though cool
in comparison of the day, brought them out in flocks
round the islands and over the shallows. I was just
feasting my eyes with the sight of wild swans, quite at
their ease in our neighbourhood, when three huge white
birds came sailing past with a flight almost as steady as
the eagles we had seen in the Kazan. " What are
they 1 ?" I said eagerly to my companion, the engineer.
" Pelicans," he answered, as coolly as if they had been
water-hens. In another moment they lighted on the
water, and I saw their long bills and pouches. Fancy
the new sensation, sir ! But on this part of the Danube
there is no want of new sensations. Our first stop at a
Bulgarian village — or town, perhaps, I should call it, for
it boasted a tumble-down fort, with some rude earth-
works, and half a dozen minarets shot up from amongst
its houses and vineyards — may be reckoned amongst the
chief of these. What can be more utterly new to an
Englishman than to come upon a crowd of poor men, who
have their daily bread to earn, half of whom are quietly
asleep, and the rest squatting or standing about, without
offering, or thinking of offering, to help when there is
work to be done under their noses 1 One was painfully
reminded of the eager, timid anxiety to be allowed to
carry luggage for a penny or two which one meets with
at home. Here one had clearly got into the blissful
realms where time is absolutely of no account, and if you
want a thing done, you can do it yourself. Our arrival
was evidently an event looked forward to in some sort,
for there were goods on the wharf waiting for us, and
several of the natives had managed to bring down great
baskets full of grapes, by which they had seated them-
selves. We were all consumed with desire for grapes,
and headed by the steward of the vessel, who supplies
his table here, rushed ashore and fell upon the baskets.
It seemed to be a matter of perfect iiidiU'erence to the
30 Vacation Rambles
owners whether we took them or let them alone, or how
many we took, or whether we paid or not. The
only distinct idea they had, was that they would not
take Austrian money. Our English emissary returned
with six or seven huge bunches for which he had given
promise to pay two piastres to somebody. The piastre
was then (ten days ago) worth one penny, it is now
worth twopence — a strange country is Turkey. There
were some buffaloes lying in the water, with their great
ears flopping, to move the air a little, and keep off flies.
A half-grown Turkish lad was squatted near the head of
one of them, over which he was scooping up the water
with his hands, the only human being in voluntary
activity. His work was thoroughly appreciated ; I never
saw a more perfect picture of enjoyment than the buffalo
who was getting this shower-bath. The costumes, of
course, are curious and striking to a stranger, but
turbans and fezzes, camel's hair jackets, and loose cotton
drawers, — even the absence of these in many instances,
and the substitute of copper-coloured flesh as a common
garb of the country — are after all only superficial
differences. It is the quiet immobility of the men which
makes one feel at once that they are a different race, and
the complete absence of women in the crowds. The
cottages, in general, look like great mole-hills. They
look miserable enough, but I believe are well suited to
the climate, being sunk three or four feet in the ground,
which keeps them cool in summer and warm in winter.
Our Crimean experience bears this out. The mud huts
sunk in the ground and thatched roughly were far more
comfortable all weathers than those sent out from
England. The campaign between the Russians and
Turks at the beginning of the late war became much
clearer to me as we passed down the river. It must be
a very difficult operation to invade Bulgaria from the
Principalities, for the southern bank commands the dead
Hat of the Wallachian banks almost all the way down.
The serious check which the Russians got at Oltenitza
Vacation Rambles 31
was a great puzzle in England. We could not make out
how it happened. Omar Pasha seemed to have made a
monstrous blunder in throwing a single division across
the river, and we wondered at his luck in getting so well
out of it. The fact is that it was a real stroke of
generalship. The Russian corps were about to cross at
points above and below. Omar's cannon posted on the
Bulgarian heights completely commanded the opposite
plain, where a considerable stream runs into the Danube.
This stream protected the left flank of the division which
crossed, and they threw up earth-works along their front
and right. The Russians recalled the corps which were
about to cross, thinking to annihilate them, and attacked
under a plunging fire from the Turkish artillery on the
opposite bank, which, combined with that from the
earth-works, was unendurable, and they were repulsed
with enormous loss. It is by no means so easy, however,
to understand why they did not take Silistria. Here
they had crossed, were in great force, and had no strong
position to attack. The famous work of Arab Tabia, the
key of the position which was so gallantly held by Butler
and Nasmyth with a few hundred Turkish soldiers under
them, is nothing but a low mound, which you can
scarcely make out from the steamer. Why they should
not have marched right over it and into the town is a
mystery.
The village of Tchernavoda where the steamer lands
passengers for Constantinople, consists of a very poor inn,
some great warehouses for corn, and some half-dozen
Turkish cottages. An English company has made the
railroad across to Kustandjie, on the Black Sea, so that
you escape the long round by the mouths of the Danube.
I fear it must be a very poor speculation, but it is very
convenient. The line runs through a chain of lakes, by
which it is often flooded. Once last winter the water
came nearly into the carriages. The train was, of course,
stopped, and had to remain in the water, which froze hard
in the night. I believe the passengers had to proceed
32 Vacation Rambles
over the ice. If any young Englishman who combines
the tastes of a sportsman and naturalist wants a field for
his energies, I can't fancy a better one than these lakes.
The birds swarm ; every sort of duck and sea-bird one
had ever heard of, besides pelicans, wild swans, bitterns,
(the first I ever saw out of a museum) and herons, and
I know not what other fowl were there, especially a
beautiful white bird exactly like our heron, but snowy
white. I saw two of these. I don't believe they were
storks, at least not the common kind which I have seen.
We had been journeying past the scene of the late
conferences, and of the excitement which was so nearly
breaking out into war a month or two back, and had
plenty of Servians and other interested persons on
board ; but, so far as I could learn, everything is quieting
down into its ordinary state — an unsatisfactory one, no
doubt, but not unlikely to drag on for some time yet.
Should the Servians and other discontented nationalities,
however, break out and come to be in need of a king,
or other person of that kind, just now, they may have the
chance of getting two countrymen of ours to fill such
posts. We left them preparing to invade Servia on a
shooting and exploring expedition, armed with admirable
guns, revolvers, and a powder for the annihilation of
insects. They were quite aware of the present unsettled
state of affairs, and prepared to avail themselves of any-
thing good which might turn up on their travels.
Constantinople, 24
can manage the machine, and the Englishman insists on
being drunk half his time.
We left by one of the steamers which ply daily from
Caen to Havre. The run down the river is chiefly in-
teresting from the quarries on its banks. They are not
the principal quarries, but are of very considerable extent ;
and from the quantities of tip, heaped into moderate-sized
grass-covered hills by the river side, it is plain that they
must have been in work here for centuries. You see the
stone in many places lying like rich Cheddar cheese, and
cut as regularly in flakes as a grocer would cut his
favourite cheeses. The stone is very soft when it comes
first from the quarries, but gains its great hardness and
sharpness after a short exposure. After passing the
quarries we got between salt marshes haunted by abund-
ance of jack snipe, and so we passed out to sea.
Gleanings from Boulogne
There is one large portion of the French people which
has improved marvellously in appearance in the last few
years, and that is the army. The setting up of the French
soldier of the line used to be much neglected, but now
you never see a man, however small and slight, who does
not carry himself and move as if every muscle in his body
had been thoroughly and scientifically trained. And this
is the actual fact. They have the finest system of military
gymnastics which has ever been seen. In every garrison
town there is a gymnasium, in which the men have to drill
as regularly as on the parade-ground. The one close to
the gate of the old town of Boulogne is an admirable
specimen, and well worth a visit. Our authorities are,
I believe, slowly following in the steps of the French, but
little has as yet been done. There is no branch of army
reform which may more safely be pressed on. We have
undoubtedly the finer material. The English soldier is
a bigger and more muscular man than the French soldier,
84 Vacation Rambles
but is far behind him in his physical education, and must
remain so until we provide a proper system of gymnastic
training, which, by the bye, will benefit the general health
of the men, and develop their intelligence as well as
their muscles.
During our stay at Boulogne there was some very
heavy weather. A strong sou '-wester came on one night,
and by two o'clock next day, when I went down, was
hurling the angry green waves against the great beams
of the southern pier in fearful fashion. The entrance to
the harbour, as most of your readers will remember, is
quite narrow, not one hundred yards across between the
two pier heads. The ebb-tide was sweeping down from
the north, and, meeting the gale right off' the harbour's
mouth, made a battling and raging sea which brought
one's heart into one's mouth to look at. The weather
was quite bright, and though the wind was so strong that
I held my hat on with difficulty, the northern pier was
crowded, as the whole force of the sea was spent against
the southern pier, over which it was leaping every moment.
We were in comparative shelter, and could watch, without
being drenched with spray, the approach of one of the
fishing smacks of the port, which was coming home. I
shall not easily forget the sight. We stood there, jammed
together, rough sailors, fishwomen, Cockneys, weather-
bound soldiers, well-dressed ladies, a crowd of all ranks,
the wind singing through us so that we could scarcely
make our nearest neighbours hear. Not that we wanted
to talk. The sight of the small black hull and ruddy
brown sail of the smack, now rising on the crest of a
great wave, and the next moment all but disappearing
behind it, took away the desire, almost the power, of
speech. Two boats, manned with fishermen, pulled to
the harbour's mouth, and lay rolling in the comparatively
still water just within the shelter of the southern pier
head. It was comforting to see them there, though if
any catastrophe had happened they could never have
lived in that sea. But the gallant little smack needed
Vacation Rambles 85
no help. She was magnificently steered, and came danc-
ing through the wildest part of the race without shipping
a single sea, seeming to catch each leaping wave just in the
spot where it was easiest to ride over. As she slid out
of the seething cauldron into the smooth water past the
waiting boats the crowd drew a long breath, and many of
us hurried back to get a close view of her as she ran into
her place amongst the other fishing boats alongside the
quay. I envied the grizzly old hero at the helm, as he
left his place, threw off his dreadnought coat, and went
to help the two men and two boys who were taking in
the sail and coiling away the ropes. There was much
shouting and congratulation from above ; but they made
little answer, and no fuss. Their faces struck me very
much, especially the boys', which were full of that quiet
self-contained look one sees in Hook's pictures. There
was no other boat in the offing then, so I went home ;
but within a few hours heard that a smack had capsized
in the harbour's mouth, with the loss of one man. I only
marvel how the rest could have been saved.
On the 1st of October in every year there is a solemn
festival of the seafaring people of Boulogne, and the sea
is blessed by their pastors. I was anxious to wait for
the ceremony, but was unable to do so. There seems to
be a strange mixture of trust in God and superstition in
all people who "occupy their business on the great waters."
There is a little chapel looking down on Boulogne port
full of thank-offerings of the sailors' wives, where the
fishwomen go up to plead with God, and pour out the
agony of their souls in rough weather. There are pro-
pitiatory gifts, too, by the side of the thank-offerings,
and the shadow of a tyrannous power in nature, to be
bought off with gifts, darkens the presence of the true
Refuge from the storm. There are traces, too, of a more
direct idolatry in the town. In the year 643 of our era
the Madonna came to Boulogne in an open boat, so runs
the story, and left an image with the faithful, which soon
became the great religious lion of the neighbourhood,
86 Vacation Rambles
drawing largely, and performing a series of miracles all
through the Middle Ages. When Henry VIII. took the
town the English carried oft' the image, but it was restored
in good condition when peace came, and as powerful as
ever for wonder-working. The Huguenots got hold of it
half a century later, and were supposed to have destroyed
it ; but an image, which at any rate did duty for it, was
ultimately fished up out of a well. Doubts as to identity,
however, having arisen, the matter was referred to the
Sorbonne, and a jury of doctors declared in favour of the
genuineness of the article which was forthcoming. And
so it continued to practise with varying success until the
Eevolution, when the Jacobins laid hands on it, broke it up,
and burnt it, thinking to make once for all an end of this
and other idol-worships. But a citizen not so enlightened
as his neighbours stayed by the fire, and succeeded at
last in rescuing what he declared to be an arm of the
original image, which remains an object of veneration still,
and is said not to have lost all healing power. But it is
far inferior in this respect to some drops of the holy blood,
for the reception of which a countrywoman of out's has
built a little chapel in the suburbs.
Boulogne has all the marks of rapidly increasing material
prosperity which may be seen now in every French town,
one of the many fruits of which is a wonderful improve-
ment in the condition of the streets and thoroughfares.
The fine new buildings, the look of the shops and of the
people, all tell the same tale. In fact, one comes away
from France now with a feeling that, so far as surface
polish and civilisation are concerned, this is the country
which is going to the front. Whether it goes any deeper
is a matter upon which a traveller flitting about for a few
weeks cannot venture an opinion.
I came back in one of the daily packets to London
Bridge, which, besides carrying seventy passengers, was
piled fore and aft with cargo. There were 400 cases of
wine on deck, besides other packages, which sorely curtailed
our walking privileges. But the boats are good boats,
Vacation Rambles 87
and the voyage past Dover, through the Downs, round
the North Foreland, and up the Thames, is so full of life
and interest that it is well worth making a long day of it,
if one is a moderately good sailor. The advertisements
call it eight and a half hours, which means eleven ; but
it is not a moment too long.
Blankenberghe
Yesterday ( 1 4th August) we were warned by meagre fare
at the table d'hote of our hotel that it was the vigil of some
saint's day. Our gastronomic knowledge was enlarged by
the opportunity of partaking of boiled mussels. A small and
delicate species of this little fish — despised of Englishmen
— is found in extraordinary quantities on this coast. The
sand is dotted with the shells after every ebb. The wattles
of the jetties are full of them. After the first shock of
having a salad bowl full of small black shells presented to
one, following immediately on a delicate potage a I'oseille,
the British citizen may pursue his education in this direction
fearlessly, with the certainty of becoming acquainted with
a delicate and appetising morsel ; and he will return to his
native country with at least a toleration for " winks " and
" pickled whelks," when he sees them vended at corner
stalls in Clare Market or in the Old Kent Road, for the
benefit of the dangerous classes of his fellow-citizens who
take their meals in the street. In these Flemish parts
they are eaten with bread and butter, and even as white-
bait, and by all classes.
After the meal I consulted the calendar in my pocket-
book as to the approaching festival, not wishing to thrust
my heretical ignorance unnecessarily on the notice of the
simple folk who inhabit the Lion d'Or. That obstinately
Protestant document, however, informed me simply that
the Rev. E. Irving was born on this day in 1.7 9 2, probably
not the saint I was in quest of. A Churchman's Almanac,
with which the only English lady in the place was pro-
vided, was altogether silent as to the day. In the end,
88 Vacation Rambles
therefore, I was obliged to fall back upon the bright-eyed
little demoiselle de la rnaison, who informed me that it was
the vigil of the Assumption of the Virgin, and that the
fete was one greatly honoured by the community of
Blankenberghe.
Thus prepared, I was not surprised at being roused at
five in the morning by the clumping of sabots and clinking
of hammers in the street below — my room is a corner one,
looking from two windows on the Rue d'Eglise, the
principal street of the place, and from the other two on the
Rue des Pecheurs, or "Visschurs' Straet," which runs
across the northern end of the Rue d'Eglise. A flight of
broad steps here runs up on to the Digue, or broad terrace
fronting the sea, and at the foot of these steps they were
erecting a temporary altar, and over it a large picture of
fishermen hauling in nets full of monsters of the deep.
They had brought it from the parish church, and, as such
pictures go, it was by no means a bad one. Presently
tricoloured flags began to appear from the windows of
most of the houses in both streets, and here and there
garlands of bright-coloured paper were hung across from
one side to the other. As the morning advanced the
bells from the church and convent called the simple folk
to mass at short intervals, six, half-past seven, nine, and
grand mass at ten. The call seemed to be answered by
more people than we had fancied the town could have held.
At eleven there was to be a procession, and now miniature
altars with lighted candles appeared in many of the ground-
floor windows, both of shops and private houses ; and the
streets were strewed with rushes and diamond -shaped
pieces of coloured paper. Punctual to its time the head
of the procession came round the corner of "Visschurs'
Straet," half a dozen small boys ringing bells leading the
way. Then came the beadledom of Blankenberghe, in the
shape of several imposing persons in municipal uniform,
then three little girls dressed in white, with bouquets, more
boys, including a diligent but not very skilful drummer,
six or seven other maidens in white, somewhat older than
Vacation Rambles 89
their predecessors, of whom the centre one carried some
ornament of tinsel and flowers. Then came the heavy
silk canopy, supported by four light poles carried by
acolytes, and surrounded by choristers, of whom the leader
bore a large silver censer, and under the canopy marched
a shaven monk in cream-coloured brocade satin, carrying
the pyx, and a less gorgeously attired brother with an
open missal. Around the whole of the procession, to pro-
tect it from the accompanying crowd, were a belt of bronzed
fishermen in their best clothes, some carrying staves, some
hymn-books, and almost all joining in the chant which was
rolled out by the priest, in a powerful bass with a kind of
metallic ring in it, as they neared the altar at the foot of
the steps. Here the whole procession paused, and the
greater part knelt, while the priest put incense in the
censer, and made his obeisances and prayed in an unknown
tongue, and the censer boy swung his sweet-smelling smoke
about, and the fishermen and their wives and children
prayed too, in their own tongue, I suppose, and their own
way, probably for fair weather and plenty of fish, and let
us hope for brave and gentle hearts to meet whatever
rough weather and short commons may be in store for
them by land or water, Then the procession rose, and
passed down the Rue d'Eglise, pausing at the corner of
the little market-place opposite a rude figure of the Madonna
in a niche over some pious doorway,
AyaXfia £i>Aivov A^'/yi'jys uAe£iK'UKor,
and so out of sight. And the bourgeois blew out the candles
and took away the chairs on which, while the halt lasted,
they had been kneeling from their shop windows, putting
back the bathing dresses, and the shell boxes, and other
sea-side merchandise, while the whole non-shopkeeping
population, and the neighbours from Bruges, and the
strangers who fill the hotels and lodging-houses turned
out upon the splendid sands and on the Digue to enjoy
their fete-dny. In the afternoon the corps de musique of the
communal schools of Bruges gave a gratuitous concert to
90 Vacation Rambles
us all by the permission of the communal administration
of that town, as we bathed, or promenaded, or sipped coffee
or liqueurs in the broad verandahs of the cafes which line
the Digue. Gaily dressed middle-class women (of upper
classes, as we understand them, I see none), in many-
coloured garments and immense structures of false back
hair, such as these eyes have never before seen ; a sprink-
ling of Belgian officers in uniform, Kussians, Frenchmen,
Germans a few, and two Anglo-Saxons, Englishmen I
cannot say, for one is an American citizen and the other
your contributor, who compose the only English-speaking
males, so far as I can judge ; groups of Flemish women of
the people in long black cloth cloaks, with large hoods
lined with black satin, more expensive probably, but not
nearly so picturesque as the old red cloak which thirty
years ago was the almost universal Sunday dress of women
in Wiltshire, Berkshire, and other Western counties ; little
old-fashioned girls in nice mob caps, and the fishermen in
excellent blue broad-cloth jackets and trousers, and well-
blacked shoes or boots, instead of the huge sabots of their
daily life ; in short, every soul, I suppose, in Blankenberghe,
from the Bourgmestre who sits on his throne, to the donkey-
boy who drives along his Neddy under a freight of children,
at half a franc an hour, whenever he can entice the small
fry from the superior attraction of engineering with the
splendid sand, spends his or her three or four hours on the
Digue, enjoying whatever of the music, gossip, coffee, beer,
or other pastimes they are inclined to or can afford ; and
in that whole crowd of pleasant holiday-making folk there
is not one single trace of poverty, not a starved face, not
a naked foot, not a ragged garment. It is the same on
the week-days. The people, notably the fishermen and
baigneurs, dress roughly, but they have all comfortable
thick worsted stockings in their sabots, and their jerseys
and overalls are ample and satisfactory. Why is it that
in nine places out of ten on the Continent this is so, and
that in England you shall never be able to find a watering-
place which is not deformed more or less by poverty and
Vacation Rambles 91
thriftlessness 1 Right across the sea, there, on the Norfolk
coast, lie Cromer and Sherringham. More daring sailors
never manned lifeboat, more patient fishermen never
dragged net, than the seafaring folk of those charming
villages. They are courteous, simple, outspoken folk, too,
singularly attractive in their looks and ways. But, alas !
for the rags, and the grinding poverty, declaring itself in
a dozen ways, in the cottages, in the children's looks, in
the women's premature old age. When will England wake
up, and get rid of the curse of her wealth and the curse of
her poverty 1 When will an Englishman be able again to
look on at a /e/e-day in Belgium, or Switzerland, or Ger-
many, or France, without a troubled conscience and a pain
in his heart, as he thinks of the contrast at home, and the
bitter satire in the old, worn-out name of "Merry England?"
It is high time that we all were heartsick over it, for the
canker grows on us. Those who know London best will
tell you so ; those who know the great provincial towns
and country villages will l^n you so, except perhaps that
the latter are now getting depopulated, and so contain less
altogether of joy or sorrow. However, sir, there are other
than these holiday times in which to dwell on this dark
subject. I ought to apologise for having fallen into it
unawares, when I sat down merely to put on paper, if I
could in a few lines, and impart to your readers the
exceeding freshness of the feeling which the feast-day at
this little Belgian watering-place leaves on one. But who
knows when he sits down, at any rate in the holidays,
what he is going to write 1 However good your intentions,
at times you can't " get the hang of it," can't say the thing
you meant to say.
You may wonder, too, at this sudden plunge into the
fite of the Assumption at Blankenberghe, when I have
never warned you even that I had flitted from my round
on the great crank which grinds for us all so ruthlessly in
the parts about the Strand and the Inns of Court. Well,
sir, I plead in my defence the test that a very able friend
of mine applies to novels. He opens the second volume
92 Vacation Rambles
and reads a chapter • if that tempts him, on he goes to the
end of the book ; if it is very good indeed, he then goes
back, and fairly begins at the beginning. So I hope your
readers will be inclined to peruse in future weeks some
further gossip respecting this place, which should perhaps
have preceded the fete-day. If they should get to take the
least interest in Blankenberghians and their works and
ways, it is more than these latter can be said to do about
them, for in the two or three cheap sheets which I find on
the table here, and which constitute the press of this corner
of Belgium, there is seldom more than a couple of lines
devoted to the whole British Empire. The fact that there
is not another Englishman in the place, and that the
American above mentioned, the only other representative
of our English-speaking stock here, went once to see the
Derby, and got so bored by two o'clock that he left the
Downs and walked back to Epsom station, enduring the
whole chaff of the road, and finding the doors locked and
the clerks and porters all gone up to the race, ought to be
enough to make them curious — curious enough at any rate
for long-vacation purposes. There are plenty of odds and
ends of life a little out of our ordinary track lying about
here to make a small " harvest for a quiet eye," which I
am inclined to try and garner for you, if you think well.
And are not the new King and Queen coming next week
to delight their subjects, and witness many kinds of fire-
works, and a " concours des joueurs de boule, dits pas baen-
bolders," whatever these may be 1
Belgian Bathing
I should like to know how many grown Englishmen or
Englishwomen, apart from those unfortunates who are
preparing for competitive examinations, are aware of the
existence of this place 1 No Englishman is bound to
know of it by any law of polite education acknowledged
amongst us, for is it not altogether ignored in Murray ?
Vacation Rambles 93
Even Bradshaw's Continental Guide is silent as to its
whereabouts. This is somewhat hard upon Blanken-
berghe, sturdy and rapidly growing little watering-place
that she is, already exciting the jealousy of her fashionable
neighbour, Ostend. It must be owned, however, that she
returns the compliment by taking the slightest possible
interest in the contemporary history of the British Empire.
Nevertheless, the place has certain recommendations to
persons in search of a watering-place out of England. If
you are content with an hotel of the country, of which
there is a large choice, you may have three good meals a
day and a bedroom for six and a half francs, with a con-
siderable reduction for families. Even at the fashionable
hotels on the Digue the price is only eight or nine francs ;
and when you have paid your hotel bill you are out of all
danger of extravagance, for there is literally nothing to
spend money upon. Your bathing machine costs you
sixpence. There are no pleasure boats and no wheeled
vehicles for hire in the place, and no excursions if there
were ; shops there are none ; and the market is of the
smallest and meagerest kind. There are no beggars and
no amusements, except bathing and the Kursaal. These,
however, suffice to keep the inhabitants and visitors in a
state of much contentment.
But now for the geography. From Ostend harbour to
the mouth of the Scheldt is a dead flat, highly cultivated,
and dotted all over with villages and farmhouses, but
somewhat lower than high-water mark. The sea is kept
out by an ancient and dilapidated-looking dyke, some fifty
feet high, on the slopes of which flourishes a strong, reedy
sort of grass, planted in tufts at regular intervals, to hold
the loose soil together. The fine sand drifts up the dyke
and blows over it, lying just like snow, so that if you
half-close your eyes and look at it from fifty yards' dis-
tance, you may fancy yourself on a glacier in the Oberland.
Blankenberghe is an ancient fishing village, lying just
under the dyke, between eight and nine miles from Ostend.
When it came into the minds of the inhabitants to convert
94 Vacation Rambles
it into a watering-place they levelled the top of their
dyke for some 600 yards until it is only about twenty-
five feet above high-water mark. They paved the sea
face with good stone, and the fine flat walk on the top,
thirty yards broad, with brick, and called it the Digue,
in imitation of Ostend. They built a Kursaal, three or
four great hotels, and half a dozen first-class lodging-
houses, opening on to the Digue, with deep verandahs in
front, and they brought a single line branch of the Flanders
railway from Bruges, and the deed was accomplished.
There is no such a sea -walk anywhere that I can re-
member as Blankenberghe Digue, from which you look
straight away with nothing but sea between you and the
North Pole. From the Digue you descend by a flight of
twenty-four steps on one side to the sands, on the other
into the town, the chief of these latter flights being at the
head of the Rue d'Eglise, the backbone, as it were, of the
place, which runs from the railway station to the Digue.
There may be 1500 inhabitants out of the season, when
all the Digue hotels and lodging-houses are shut up ; at
present, perhaps, another 1000, coming and going, and
attracted by the bathing.
Of this institution an Englishman is scarcely a fair
judge, as it is conducted on a method so utterly unlike
anything we have at home at present. My American
friend assures me that we are 100 years behind all other
nations in this matter, that the Belgians conduct it
exactly as they do in the States, and that theirs is the
only decent mode of bathing. It may be so. One sees
such rapid changes in these days, and advanced opinions
of all kinds are being caught up so quickly by even such
Philistines as the English middle classes, that he is a bold
man who will assert that we shall not see the notions of
Brighton and Dover yield to the new ideas of Newport
and Blankenberghe before long. In one respect, indeed, it
is well that they should, for the machines here are con-
venient little rooms on wheels, with plenty of pegs, two
chairs, a small tub, a looking-glass, and everything hand-
Vacation Rambles 95
some about them. But the wheels are broad, and very-
low ; consequently you are only rolled down to the neigh-
bourhood of the water, thinking yourself lucky if you get
within five or six yards of it. Xow, as the occupants of
the machine on your left and right are probably sprightly
and somewhat facetious young Belgian or French women,
and as the beach shelves so gently that you have at least
a run of fifty yards before you can get into deep enough
water to swim with comfort, the root difference between
Blankenberghian and English habits discloses itself to you
from the first. Of course, as men, women, and children
all bathe together, costumes are necessary, but those in
which the men have to array themselves only make bath-
ing a discomfort, without giving one the consciousness of
being decently clad. You have handed to you with your
towels a simple jersey, with arms and legs six or eight
inches in length, reaching perhaps to the middle of the
biceps and femoral muscles. Into this apology for a
dress you insert and button yourself up (it is well for
you, by the way, if one or two buttons be not missing),
and then are expected to walk calmly out into the water
through groups of laughing girls in jackets and loose
trousers. Having threaded your way through these, and
avoided a quadrille party on the one hand, and an excellent
fat couple, reminding you of the picture of Mr. and Mrs.
Bubb in the one-horse " chay," who are bathing their
family on the other, you address yourself to swimming.
As you descended from the Digue you read, " Bathers are
expressly recommended to hold themselves at least fifteen
yards from the breakers by buoys designed." You do
not see any breakers, but there is a line of buoys about
eighty yards out to which you contemptuously paddle,
and after all find that you are scarcely out of your depth.
When you have had enough you return, poor, dripping,
forked mortal, to a last and severest trial. For the
universal custom is to sit about on chairs amongst the
machines ; and on one side of your door are perhaps a
couple of nursemaids chatting while their children build
96 Vacation Rambles
sand castles, on the other a matron or two working and
gossiping. Now, sir, a man who has been taking the
rough and the smooth of life for a good many years
within half a mile of Temple Bar is not likely to be over-
sensitive, but I would appeal to any contributor on your
staff, sir, or to yourself, whether you would be prepared
to go through such an ordeal without wincing ? On my
return from my first swim I recognised my American
cousin in his element. He was clad in a blue striped
jersey, — would that I could have sprinkled it with a few
stars, — and was sauntering about with the greatest cool-
ness from group to group, enjoying the whole business,
and no doubt looking forward complacently to the time
when differences of sex shall be altogether ignored in the
academies of the future. He threw a pitying glance at
me as I skedaddled to my machine, secretly vowing
to abstain from all such adventures hereafter. Since
that time I have taken my dip too early for the Belgian
public to be present at the ceremony, but, like the rest
of the world, I daily look on, and, unlike them, wonder.
As to the morality of it, I can't say that I think the
custom of promiscuous bathing as practised here seems to
me either moral or immoral. Occasionally when the
waves are a little rough you see couples clinging together
for mutual support more than the circumstances perhaps
strictly require ; but there is very little of this. The
whole business seemed to me not immoral, but in our
conventional sense vulgar, much like " kissing in the
ring," which I have seen played by most exemplary sets
of young men and women on excursions in Greenwich or
Bichmond Park, but which would not do in Hamilton
Gardens or a May Fair drawing-room. Meanwhile, I
hope that as long at least as I can enjoy the water we
shall remain benighted bathers in the eyes of our American
cousins and of the brave Belgians. To a man the first
requisite of a really enjoyable bath is surely deep water,
and the second, no clothes, for the loss of either of which
no amount of damp flirtation can compensate, in the
Vacation Rambles 97
opinion at least of your contributor, who, nevertheless in
these Belgian parts, while obliged to record his opinion,
has perhaps a great consciousness that he may be some-
thing of an old fogey.
I suppose that a man or nation is to be congratulated
about whom their neighbours have nothing to say. If
so, the position of England at this time is peculiarly
enviable out here. I read the Inddpendance Beige dili-
gently, but under the head " Nouvelles d'Angleterre," for
which that journal retains, as it would seem, a special
correspondent, I never learn anything whatever except
the price of funds. We occupy an average of perhaps
twelve lines in its columns, and none at all in those of
the La Vigie de la Cote, the special production of Blanken-
berghe, or of the Bruges and Ostend journals.
Oh ! wad some power the giftie gie us,
To see oursels as itheis see us !
Certainly a short residence at Blankenberghe should be
taken in conjunction with the volume of essays on inter-
national policy by Mr. Congreve and his fellow Comtists,
which I happen to have brought with me for deliberate
perusal, if one wants to feel the shine taken out of one's
native land. I don't.
Belgian Boats
Blankenberghe has one branch of native industry, and
one only. From time immemorial it has been a fishing
station. The local paper declares that there has been no
change in the boats, the costumes, or the implements of
this industry since the sixteenth century, with the ex-
ception noticed below. One can quite believe it, as far as
the boats are concerned. They are very strongly built
tubs, ranging from twenty to thirty tons, flat-bottomed,
the same breadth of beam fore and aft, built I should
think on the model of the first duck which was seen off
this coast, and a most sensible model too. They have no
H
98 Vacation Rambles
bowsprit, but a short foremast in the bows, carrying one
small sail, and a strong mainmast amidships, carrying one
big sail. Each of these sails is run up by a single rope,
rigged through a pulley in the top of the masts, and of
other rigging there is none. The boats are all of a
uniform russet-brown colour, the tint of old age, looking
as if they had been once varnished, in the time, let us say,
of William the Silent, and had never been touched since.
There is not a scrap of paint on the whole fleet. In short,
I am convinced that the local paper by no means ex-
aggerates their antiquity. Instead of finding it hard to
believe that sixteenth-century men went to sea in them, I
should not be startled to hear that our first parents were
the original proprietors, or at any rate that the present
fleet was laid down by Japhet, when the Ark was broken
up. The habits of the fleet are as quaint as their looks.
There is no scrap of anchorage or shelter of any kind
here, the sands lie perfectly open to the north and west,
and the surf seems about as rough as it is elsewhere. But
the Blankenberghe fishermen are perfectly indifferent,
convinced no doubt that neither sea nor sand will do any-
thing to hurt them or their boats, for old acquaintance'
sake. To me, accustomed to the scrambling, and shouting,
and hauling up above high-water mark, the running of
naked-legged boys into the water, and the energetic doings
of the crew when a fishing boat comes to land at home,
there is something of the comically sublime in the contrast
presented by these good Flemings. As one of the old
brown tubs rolls towards the shore, looking as if she
scarcely had made up her mind which end to send in first,
you see a man quietly pitch a small anchor over the bows,
and then down come the two sails. Sometimes the
anchor begins to hold before the boat grounds, but just
as often she touches before the anchor bites, but nobody
cares. The only notice taken is to unship the rudder and
haul it aboard ; then comes a wave which swings her
round, and leaves her broadside to the surf. Nobody
moves. Bang comes the next breaker, lifting her for a
Vacation Rambles 99
moment, and bumping her down again on the sand, her
bows perhaps a trifle more to sea, but the crew only
smoke and hold on. And so it goes on, bang, bump,
thump, till sooner or later she swings right round and
settles into her place on the sand. When she has adjusted
this to her own satisfaction one of the crew just drops over
the stern with another anchor on his shoulder, which he fixes
in the sand, and then he and the rest leave her and walk
up to the Digue, and generally on to vespers at the church,
which is often three parts filled with these jolly fellows.
Getting off again is much the same happy-go-lucky
business. The men shoulder the anchor which is out at
the stern, or, as often as not, leave it on shore with their
cable coiled, ready for their return. Then they clamber
into their tub, which is bumping away, held only by the
anchor out at the bows. They wait for the first wave
that floats them, then up go the sails, on goes the rudder,
they get a haul on the anchor, and after heading one or
two different ways get fairly ott'.
Their costume is picturesque, — thick red flannel shirts,
the collars of which fold over their tightly buttoned blue
jackets, and give a tidy, uniform appearance to a group of
them. The old stagers still wear huge loose red knicker-
bockers and pilot boots, but the younger generation are
degenerating into the common blue trousers and sabots,
the latter almost big enough to come ashore on in case of
wreck. Altogether they are the most well-to-do set of
fishermen to look at that I have ever seen, though where
their money comes from I cannot guess, as they seem to take
little but small flounders and skate. There used to be
good cod-fishing in the winter, they say, but of late years
it has fallen oft'. The elder fishermen attribute this to the
disgust of the cod at an innovation in the good old ways
of fishing. Formerly two boats worked together, dragging
a net with large meshes between them, but this has been
of late superseded by the English bag-net system, which
brings up everything small and great, and disturbs the
pdture accoutumec of the cod, whereupon he has emigrated.
ioo Vacation Rambles
Disastrous islanders that we are, who never touch any-
thing, from Japan to Blankenberghe, without setting
honest folk by the ears and bringing trouble ! The
" Corporation of Fishers," a close and privileged body,
who hold their heads very high here, are looking into the
matter, and it seems likely that this destructive chalut,
d'origine Anglicise, may yet be superseded. It remains to
be seen whether the cod will come back.
We have had abominable weather here, but nothing in
the shape of a storm. I confess to have been look-
ing out for a good north-wester with much interest.
Assuming that the effect as to breakers and surf would
be much the same as elsewhere, one is curious to ascertain
whether these fishing boats are left to bump it out on the
sands. If so, and no harm comes to them, the sooner our
fishermen adopt the Blankenberghe model of boat the
better. I fear, however, that with all their good looks
and old traditions, the seafaring folk on this coast are
wanting in the splendid daring of our own 'long-shore people.
On Monday night the mail packet from Ostend to Dover
went out in a stiffish breeze, but nothing which we should
call a gale, at eight o'clock. By some curious mismanagement
both her engines got out of order and came to a dead stop
almost immediately. Strange to say, her anchors were
down in the hold under the luggage (the boats are Belgian,
not English manned), and she had a very narrow escape
of drifting right on shore. Luckily the crew managed to
get up an anchor in time to prevent this catastrophe, and
there she lay right off the harbour, perfectly helpless,
throwing up rockets and burning blue lights for hours.
Neither tug, nor lifeboat, nor pilot boat stirred, and she
rode at anchor till morning, when the wind went down.
I venture to think that such a case is unheard of on our
coasts. It occurs to one to ask whether there is such an
official as a harbourmaster at the port of Ostencl, and if so,
what his duties are. There were sailors enough in
harbour to have manned fifty lifeboats, for the Ostend
fishing fleet of 200 boats had come back from their three
Vacation Rambles 101
months' cruise on that very afternoon. The contingency
of riding out a stormy night in a mail packet within a
few hundred yards of a lee shore, in front of a great port
full of seamen, is scarcely one of those on which we
holiday folk reckon when we book ourselves for the
Continent.
Coming out on the Digue one night, soon after my
arrival, I was brought to a stand-still by the appearance
of the sea. It was low water, so that I was about 200
yards oft", and at first I could scarcely believe my eyes, which
seemed to tell me that every breaker was a flood of pale
fire. I went down close to the water to confirm or disenchant
myself, and found it more beautiful the nearer I got. Of
course one has seen the ordinary phosphorescence of the
sea in a hundred places, but this was quite a different
affair. The sand under one's feet even was molten silver.
The scientific doctor says it is simply the effect of the
constant presence on this coast of great numbers of an
animalcule which can only be seen through a microscope,
called the Nodiluca miliaris. It looked on that evening as
if huge fiery serpents were constantly rising and dashing
along. People here say that they have it always, but
this is certainly not so. On several other evenings the
breaking waves were slightly luminous, but scarcely
enough to attract attention. If you could only make sure
of seeing sea and shore ablaze as it was on that particular
night, you ought at once, sir, to pack traps and off, not-
withstanding these abominably high winds. I cannot help
thinking that, besides a monster gathering — probably a
Reform League meeting — of the Nodiluca miliaris, there
must have been something very unusual in the atmosphere
on that particular night. It was a kind of " eldritch "
night, in which you felt as if you had got into the
atmosphere of Tennyson's Morte d Arthur, and a great hand
might come up out of the water without giving you a
start. There was light right up in the sky above one's
head, a succession of half luminous rain clouds were drift-
ing rapidly across at a very low elevation from the north-
102 Vacation Rambles
west, not fifty yards high, as it seemed, while the smoke
of my cigar floated away slowly almost in the opposite
direction. Lnckily, sir, my American friend was with me
on the night in question, to whom I can appeal as to the
truth of my facts, and we had had nothing but one bottle of
very moderately strong vin ordinaire at the table d'hdte. If
your scientific readers say that the thing is impossible, I
can only answer that so it was.
Parson Wilbur, when he is considering the question
whether the ability to express ourselves in articulate language
has been productive of more good than evil, esteems his own
ignorance of all tongues except Yankee and the dead
languages as "a kind of martello tower, in which I am
safe from the furious bombardments of foreign garrulity."
There is something comforting and fascinating in this
doctrine, but still on the whole it is decidedly disagreeable
to be reduced to signs for purposes of intercourse, as is
generally the case here. Not one soul in a hundred can
speak French. Their talk sounds like a sewing machine,
with an occasional word of English interspersed in the
clicking. I am told that if you will only talk broad
Durham or Yorkshire they will understand you, but I do
not believe it, as the sounds are quite unlike. The names
of these people are wonderful. For instance, those on the
bathing machines just opposite my hotel are, Van Vooren,
Van Vulpen, Siska Deneve, Sandelays, and Colette Claes,
abbreviated into Clotty by two English schoolboys who
have lately appeared, and are the worst dressed and the
best bathers of all the young folk here. They are fast
friends, I see, with a young Russian, whose father, an old
officer, sits near me at the table d'hdte. Poor old boy ! I
never saw a man so bored, in fact he has disclosed to me
that he can stand -it no longer. Blankenberghe has been
quite too much for him. Lest it should also prove so to
your readers, I will end with his last words (though I by
no means endorse his judgment of the little Flemish
watering-place), " Maintenant je n'y puis plus ! "
My father in 1870 went to America for the first time. His time
was so much occupied there that he could write only home letters.
My mother has allowed me to make extracts from these, thinking that
they serve to introduce his later letters from America, which were
addressed to the Spectator.
It was owing to the fact of my father's having publicly taken the
side of the North in the Civil War that his reception in the United
States in 1870 was so particularly warm and hearty.
Peruvian, 6.45 p.m.
Here I am, in my officer's cabin, a small separate hole
in our little world on the water, all to myself. At this
moment I look out of my porthole and see the Welsh
mountains coming out against a bed of daffodil sky, for
though it has been misty all day it is now a lovely clear
evening. The sea is quite calm, and there is scarcely any
motion in the ship. The tea-bell is ringing, so I must
stop, for a little, but I shall have plenty of time to tell
you all that has happened as yet, as we shall be lying oft'
Londonderry nearly all day to-morrow. The mail does
not come oft' to us till about 5 p.m., and we shall be there
about nine in the morning or thereabouts. I may perhaps
run up to Derry to see the old town and the gate and
walls, etc., sacred to the glorious, pious, and immortal
memory of the great and good king William.
8.45 p.m.
Tea was excellent, and afterwards R and I
went on deck, and saw the sun go down gloriously in the
line of our ship's course ; we were steaming right up a
great road of fire. The sea gets calmer and calmer, and,
in fact, there couldn't be less movement if we were in
Greenwich reach. So now for the narrative of all my
adventures since I left you at the window. The moment
we got on board, there was the rush and scramble for
places at the saloon table, which Harry I warned
me about. We were on board amongst the first, but
agreed not to join the scramble, taking any places that
io6 Vacation Rambles
might happen to be going. There is something so
ludicrously contemptible to me in seeing people eagerly
and seriously struggling about such matters that I am
quite unable to join in the worry. I doubt if I could
even if the ship were going down, and we were all taking
to the boats. It isn't the least from any virtuous or
heroic feeling, but simply from the long dwelling in the
frame of mind described in a chapter in Past and Present.
When every one had taken the seats they liked, we
settled down very comfortably into two which were
vacant, and which, for all I can see, are as good as any of
the rest.
8 a.m., Friday.
Off the north coast of Ireland, and a splendid coast
it is. A stout party, on whom I do not the least rely,
told me an hour or so ago, when I first went on deck,
that we were passing the Giant's Causeway. The
morning is deliciously fresh, and there is just a little
roll in the vessel which is slightly discomforting some of the
passengers, I see. I slept like a top without turning, for
which, indeed, I haven't room in my tray on the top of the
drawers. My only mishap has been that when they were
sluicing the decks this morning, the water running down
the ship's side naturally turned into my wide-open porthole
to see if I was getting up. The device was quite successful,
as I shot out of bed at once to close it up and save my things
lying on the sofa below. No damage done fortunately.
9.30 A.M., Friday.
Here we are lying quietly at anchor in Lough Foyle
after an excellent breakfast. We wait here for the mails,
but as it is nineteen miles I find by road up to Derry, I shall
not make the attempt. The plot thickens on board, and
I am already deeply interested. There are 150 emigrants
from the East End, who are being taken over by their
parson and a philanthropist whose name I haven't caught
Vacation Rambles 107
yet. I have been forward amongst these poor folk, and
have won several hearts or at least opened many mouths
by distributing some few spare stamps I luckily had in
my pocket. Lovely as the morning is, and delicious as
the contrast between the exquisite air on deck, where
they are all sitting, when contrasted with Whitechapel
air, I can't help looking at them with very mingled
feelings. They are a fine steady respectable class of poor.
The women nursing and caring for their children with
grave, serious, sweet faces, and the men really attentive.
All of them anxious to send off scraps of letters to their
friends in Great Babylon. There is one slip of the fore-
deck roped off entirely for nursing mothers and small
children, and there are a lot of quaint little plumps
rolling and tumbling about there, with some of whom I
hope to make friends. A bird-fancier from the East End
has several cages full of larks and sparrows, and a magpie
and jay in state cabins by themselves, all of which he
hopes to make great merchandise of in Canada, where
English birds are longed for, but are very hard to keep.
He had lost his hempseed in Liverpool, but luckily ;i
boat has gone ashore, and I think there is good hope of
getting him a fresh supply. There is a little gathering
of the emigrants for service at eight in the evening
forward. I didn't know of it last night, but shall attend
henceforth. No thought of such a thing in the state
saloon ! " How hardly shall they that have riches " !
Here, as elsewhere, the truest and deepest life, because the
simplest, lies amongst those who have little of the things of
this world lying between them and their Father and this
invisible world, with its realities.
On board the Peruvian.
We are well out on the broad Atlantic, which at present
we are inclined to think a little of an imposture. There
is certainly a swell of some kind, for the ship pitches more
or less, but to the unpractised eye looking out on the
108 Vacation Rambles
waste of waters it is quite impossible to account for the
swell, for, except for the better colour, the sea looks very
much as it does off the Isle of Wight ; great waves like
the slope of a chalk down, following one another in solemn
procession, up which the long ship climbs like a white
road. However, it is early days to grumble about the
want of swell, and when it comes I may not like it any
more than another. After finishing my letter to you this
morning, I went ashore to post it, and found that after all
it wouldn't reach London till to-morrow night. So I sent
you a telegram, which I hope you got before bed-time at
any rate, and redirected my letter to Cromer. To pass
the time I took a jaunting car with two other passengers,
and we drove to an old castle looking over Lough Foyle,
formerly a stronghold of the O'Doherty's till it was sacked
and knocked about their ears by an expedition of Scotch
Campbells, who did a good work for the district by
destroying it. We found lots of shamrock in the ruins,
and enjoyed the drive and still more a bathe afterwards.
The country seems very prosperous. The people, strapping,
light-haired, blue-eyed Celts, handsome and well-to-do ; in
fact, evidently much better fed and better educated than
almost any English country district I know. The mails
came down from Derry in a tender, which brought us the
news of the first battle and the Prussian victory, which I
for one always looked for, and we got away by seven, two
hours later than we expected. However, the wind is fair
and we are making famous way, and by the time I get up
in the morning I expect we shall be 200 miles from the
Irish coast.
9.30 p.m., Saturday.
A long calm day and we have made a splendid run — shall
be in Quebec in good time to-morrow week if this weather
holds ; but knowing persons say it won't, and that we
have seen the last of fine weather, and must look out for
squalls — for why 1 the wind has gone round against the
sun, and it has settled to rain hard with a barometer
Vacation Rambles 109
steadily going down. The Roman Catholic bishop (who
is not very expert in weather that I know of, but is a very
jovial party, who enjoys his cigar and gossip, and was one
of the first to go in for a game of shovel-board on deck
this morning) declares that we shall have it fine all the
way, as he has made the passage six times and has never
had bad weather yet. In any case I hope it won't be
rough to-morrow, for we are to have a real treat in the
way of spiritual dissipation. First, the bishop is to have
some kind of mass and preach a short sermon at nine (N.B.
a time-table conscience clause is to run all day, so that
only latitudinarians like me will go in for it all). Then
the captain who is a rare good fellow, with a spice of
sentiment about him, which sits so well on such a bullet-
headed, broad-shouldered, resolute Jack-Tar, has his own
service at eleven, in which he will do the priest himself,
an excellent example, with a sermon by the emigrant
parson, whose name is H , afterwards. These in the
saloon; then at 2.30 a service in the steerage by H ,
or G , the other parson, and a final wind up, also in the
steerage at 7.30. G is the clergyman of Shaftesbury,
George Glyn's borough ; was formerly in the Navy, and
was in the Ragged School movement of '48, '49, when I
used to go off' twice a week in the evening to Ormond
Yard, when poor old M had the gas turned out, and
his hat knocked over his eyes by his boys. He knew
Ludlow and Furnival, but I don't remember him. How-
ever, he is a right good fellow, and gave us a really good
extempore prayer last night at the midships' service. The
steerage is certainly most interesting. There are now
nearly 500 emigrants on board there, and the captain says
they are about the best lot he has ever had. Going round
this morning I was struck by a dear little light-haired girl,
who was standing with her arm round the neck of a poor
woman very sick and ill, and such tenderness and love in
her poor little face as she turned it up to us as almost
brought tears into one's eyes. Of course I thought the
woman was her mother. No such thing ; she was no
1 10 Vacation Rambles
relation at all. The little dear had never seen her till she
met her on board, but was attracted by her misery, and
had never left her side since she had been so ill. The
poor woman had two strapping daughters on board who
had never been near her. How strangely folk are fixed
up in this queer world.
Momlay.
We know what a good swell in mid-Atlantic means at
last. AVe were pitching when I went to bed, finding it
hard to get on with my penmanship. Off I went as fast
as usual, and never woke except for one moment to grunt
and turn round, or rather, try to turn round, in my tray
on top of the drawers at something which sounded like a
crash. In the morning we were swinging and bowing and
jerking, so that I had to wait for a favourable moment to
bolt out of bed for fear of coming a cropper if I didn't
mind.
As soon as I was out I saw what the crash had been
in the night. My big portmanteau, which had been set
on its end the night before, had had a jumping match with
my water-jug in the night. Both of them had thrown a
somersault across the cabin against the door, but the jug-
being brittle (jugs shouldn't jump against portmanteaus),
and coming down undermost, had gone all into little bits,
and the water, all that wasn't in my shoes at least, had
soaked my carpet at the door end. But it was a glorious
bright morning and the dancing hills of water and the
bounding ship sent me up dancing on the deck. My high
spirits were a little subdued after breakfast, for I had
scarcely got on deck when parson H came to me to
say the emigrants wanted me to give them an address.
Well, I couldn't refuse, as my heart is full of them, poor
dear folk, so down I went to get my ideas straight, and
put down the heads on paper. I thought I wouldn't miss
the air, though, so set open my porthole window, which
as I told you is about a foot across, and set to work — as
I write, this blessed porthole is about a yard away from
Vacation Rambles 1 1 1
my right ear, and perhaps two feet above my head. Well,
I was just getting into swing with my work, when suddenly
a great pitch, and kerswash ! in comes all of a wave that
could squeeze through my porthole, right on to my ear
and shoulder, over my desk, drenching all my papers,
lucifer-match boxes, hair- brushes, wideawake, tobacco-
pouch and other chattels, and flooding all of my floor which
my water-jug had left dry. I bolted to the porthole and
closed him up before another curious wave could come
prying in, and soon rubbed everything dry again with the
help of the Captain's cabin-boy, and no harm is done except
that I have to sit with my feet up on my portmanteau
while I write. This sheet was dowsed in my shower-bath
this morning, but I laid it on my bed, and it seems all
right now and doesn't even blot ; I shall however envelope
it now with another sheet for safety, as I'm not going to
keep my porthole shut notwithstanding the warning, and
I don't want my letters to you floated again.
Peruvian, 9th August 1870.
Since I put my last sheet into No. 1 envelope, everything
in the good ship Peruvian has been dancing. The long
tables in the saloon, at which we are always eating and
drinking, have been covered with a small framework, over
which the cloth is laid, and which has the effect of dividing
them into three compartments ; a sort of trough down
each side in which are the dishes. Notwithstanding these
precautions there are constant catastrophes in the shape
of spoons, forks, tumblers, and sometimes plates, jumping
the partitions suddenly as the ship heels over. The story
of the Yankee skipper saying to the lady on his left, " I'll
trouble you, marm, for that 'ere turkey — " the bird in
question having tied from the table into her lap as he was
beginning to serve it — becomes quite commonplace. How
the steward's men get about with plates and dishes, good-
ness knows ; but though there is a constant clatter and
smash going on all over the ship I haven't seen them drop
1 1 2 Vacation Rambles
anything. I am almost the only passenger who hasn't
even had a twinge of squeamishness, but we muster pretty
well considering all things. The Captain is one of the
cheeriest fellows alive, and keeps up the spirits of all the
women. If he sees any one of them who is still about
looking peeky, he whisks her off under his arm and walks
her up and down the deck, where they stagger along
together, and the fresh breeze soon revives the damsel.
He is a sort of temporary father to all the girls, and con-
stantly has, it seems, three or four entrusted to him to
take over or bring back.
Of course there is a great deal of discomfort on board,
but I have visited the steerage and am delighted with the
arrangements for feeding, ventilation, etc. To poor sea-
sick people, however, it must be very trying. This
morning I carried off to my cabin a poor forlorn young
married couple, whom I had noticed on shore at Moville,
and afterwards on board. I am sure they hadn't been
married a week, and they were evidently ready to eat one
another. When I saw them settling down on a large
bench in a covered place amidships where were twenty or
thirty folk, mostly ill, and several men smoking, she with
her poor head tied up tidily in a red handkerchief nestling
on to his shoulder, I couldn't stand it, and took them off
to my cabin, where they could nurse one another for a
few hours in peace. We have had a birth too on board,
and mother and child, I am glad to say, are doing well.
She is a very nice woman, I am told by one of the ladies
who visits her, the wife of a school teacher. The baby is
to have Peruvian for one of its names. I have really
enjoyed the rough weather much ; it has never been more
than half a gale, I believe, though several men have been
thrown from the sofas to the cabin floor, and more or less
bruised. The cheery Captain has comforted us all by
announcing that we shall be through the storm before
midnight.
Up the St. Lawrence they say we shall want light
summer clothing. If the weather settles down we are to
Vacation Rambles 1 1 3
have an amateur concert on board, which will be, I take it,
very lame on the musical side, but amusing in other ways.
B, was entrusted by the Captain with the task of getting
it up, and before we got into rough weather had booked
some six or seven volunteers. I daresay he will be well
enough to-morrow morning to go on with it. My address
is of course postponed for the present.
Wednesday.
The Captain was quite right — we sailed clear out of
the storm before midnight yesterday, and though to-day
some swell is left, it is so calm that the saloon tables have
quite filled up again at meal-times. I was of course nailed
by the parson for my address in the afternoon, and placed
on one of the flat skylights amidships, as no other equally
convenient and fixed stump could be found. As I know
you would sooner get rubbish of mine than poetry of any
one else, I give the outline. " I was there," I said, " at
their parson's request, to talk, but it seemed to me that
in the grand scene we were in, the great waves, the bright
sky, the free breezes, could talk to them more eloquently
than human lips. We were wont to use proverbs all our
lives without realising their meaning. ' We're all in the
same boat ' had never impressed me till now. Our week's
experience showed us before all things that the first duty
of those in the same boat was to help, comfort, and amuse
the rest. If I could do either I should be glad. What
were we to talk about 1 ? (Shouts of 'Canada.') Well we
would come to Canada, but first a word or two of the old
country they were leaving. Love of our birthplace, other-
wise called patriotism, is one of the strongest and noblest
passions God has planted in man's heart. You have a
great birthright as Englishmen, are members, however
humble, of the nation which has spread free speech and
free thought round the world, which was the first to
declare that her flag never should fly over a slave. Fellow-
countrymen of AYyclitfe, Shakespeare, Milton. Wher-
I
1 1 4 Vacation Rambles
ever you go cherish these memories, be loyal to the old
country, keep a soft place in your heart for the land of
your birth. You are now making the passage from the old
world to the new, enjoying one of those rare resting-places
which God gives us in our lives. It is time for bracing
up the whole man for new effort, for casting off old, bad
habits. One strong resolution made at such times often
is the turning-point in men's lives. As to the land you
are going to, Kemember you are getting a fresh start in
life and all will depend on yourselves. In the old land
there is often not enough work for strong and willing
hands ; in the new there are a hundred openings, and in all
more work than hands. One thing wanted is honest, hard
work. Whatever your hands find to do, do it with all
your might, and you are sure of comfort and independence.
Your new home is England's eldest child and has a great
destiny to work out. Be loyal therefore and true to your
birthplace, keeping old memories alive and giving her a
share of your love ; be loyal to your new home, giving
her your best work ; above all, be loyal and true to your-
selves and you shall not be false to any man or any land."
This, spread over half an hour, was my talk.
When I had finished I called on the Captain, who
warned them against drink in a straightforward sailor's
speech. Then a grizzled old boy, who had been calling
out "That's true" whenever I spoke of hard work,
scrambled up on the skylight and told them that he had
come out thirty years ago from England with nine shillings
in his pocket and seven children. He had given each of
his daughters fifteen hundred dollars on their marriage,
and helped each of his sons into a farm, and had a farm of
his own. which he was going back to after visiting his old
home in Cornwall. All this he had done by hard work.
He was a blacksmith, but would turn his hand to any-
thing. Times were just as good now as then, and every
one of them might do the same. This was a splendid
clencher to the nail I had tried to drive in. The parson
wound up with more advice as to liquor, and an account
Vacation Rambles 1 1 5
of how well the sixteen hundred he had already sent out
had done. The whole was a great success, and we all
went off to dinner in the cabin in high spirits. If the fair
weather lasts we shall see land to-morrow afternoon.
To-morrow night we are to have our concert. My young
couple have turned up trumps : he plays the old piano in
the saloon famously, being an excellent musician, and she
sings, they say, nicely when not sea-sick. The Canadians
on board assure him he will be caught up as an organist
directly to help out his other means of livelihood. Then
for Friday we are to have " Box and Cox " in the cabin,
played by the Captain and E , who knows the part of
Cox perfectly already, having played it at Cambridge.
Mrs. Bouncer has not yet been fixed on, but a nice
little Canadian girl will, I think, play it.
Tuesday evening.
We had a fog this morning Avhich lost us a couple of
hours, seeing however, as compensation, a fog rainbow — a
colourless arch, which as you looked over the side seemed
to spring from the two ends of the ship. As the fog
cleared away and we went ahead we saw an iceberg to
the north, which soon looked like a great white lion
lying on the horizon. During the day, which has been
wonderfully bright and cold, we have seen several more
icebergs and a lot of whales, one of which came quite
close to the ship. We sighted land about seven, and in
six miles more we should have passed into the Bay of
St. Lawrence, when a rascally fog came on and forced us
to lay-to. The Captain can't leave the deck, so we didn't
have our concert, and we are all going to bed anxious to
hear the screw at work again.
Friday.
We lay-to all last night, the jolly Captain up on the
bridge, to watch for any lifting of the fog, so that he
might go ahead at once ; but the fog wouldn't lift, and so
we lay until eight this morning. Just before breakfast it
1 1 6 Vacation Rambles
cleared, and away we went, and soon entered the strait
between Newfoundland and Labrador. By the time we
had done breakfast we were running close by a huge
iceberg, like a great irregular wedding cake, except near
the water, where the colour changed from sugary white
into the most delicious green. There were nine other
icebergs in sight to the north, and a number of others
round us, just showing above the water, one like a great
ichthyosaurus creeping along the waves, or a white bear
with a very long neck. Had we gone on last night it
would have been a perilous adventure. Soon afterwards
we sighted the North American, a companion ship be-
longing to the same Company, running some miles in
front of us to the north. We had a most exciting race,
coming abreast of her about twelve, and communicating
by signals. Then we drew ahead, and shall be in Quebec
nearly a day before her. Then we played shovel-board
on deck, the air getting more balmy every minute as we
drew out of the ice region. We had a grand gathering of
emigrants amidships, and sung hymns, " Jesus, lover of my
soul," and others, with a few words from G — — , the busy
parson, who has recovered from his long sea-sickness at
last, and is a famous fellow. The concert of the Peruvians
came off with a great pclat after dinner. They put me in
the chair, and I introduced the performers with a slight
discourse about the Smith family (the Captain's name is
Smith), and at the end they voted thanks to me, im-
parting the great success of the voyage to my remarkable
talent for making folk agree and pull together — very
nattering, but scarcely accurate. Then somebody dis-
covered that it was a glorious moonlight, so up we all
went, and very soon there was a fiddler and a dance on
deck, which is only just over. We are well in the Gulf
of St. Lawrence, and all going as well as possible.
Mouth of the St. Lawrence.
I am much pleased with the specimens of Canadians
whom we have on board. There are some twenty of them,
Vacation Rambles 1 1 7
with their wives, daughters, and small boys. They are a
quiet, well-informed, pleasant set of men, and ready and
pleased to talk of their country and her prospects. My
conversation runs to a great extent, as you may suppose,
on the chances of farming in Canada West, which is the
part of the colony with the greatest future, and I am
much pleased with what I hear. Any man with a capital
of from £2000 to £3000 may do very well, and make
money quite as fast as is good for him, if he will only
keep steady and work ; and the life is exceedingly
fascinating for youngsters.
There is a very nice fellow on board, a gentleman in
the conventional sense, who is returning from a run to
Gloucestershire to see his friends. He has been out for
seven years only, two of which he spent as an apprentice
with a farmer, learning his trade. He is quite inde-
pendent now, and I would not wish to meet a better
specimen of a man.
I doubt whether you, being so orderly a party, would
quite appreciate what appears to be the favourite form
of pleasuring amongst the up-country farmers, but I own
that it would have suited my natural man down to the
ground. Half a dozen of them, in the bright, still winter-
time, will agree that they haven't seen Jones for some
weeks, so will give him " a surprise." Accordingly they
all start from their own houses so as to meet at his farm
about 9.30 or 10 o'clock — the time he would be going to
bed.
They drive over in sledges, each taking his wife, sister,
or sweetheart, a good hamper of provisions and plenty of
buffalo robes. Jones finds his yard full of neighing
horses and sledges as he is going to bed. If he has
already gone they knock him up. They then take
possession of his house and premises. The men litter
down their horses, the women light his fire and lay the
supper, the only absolute rule being, that Jones and his
family and servants do nothing at all.
They all sit down to supper and then dance till they
1 1 8 Vacation Rambles
are tired, and then the women go to bed ; and the men, if
there are no beds for them, as generally happens, roll
themselves in their buffalo robes and go to sleep. In the
morning they breakfast, and then start away home again
over the snow in their sledges, after the men have cut up
firewood enough to keep Jones warm for a week.
There is magnificent trout and salmon fishing, and
deer, wolf, and bear shooting, for those who like to seek
it in the backwoods, and plenty of time for sport when
the farm work is over, or in the winter. At the big towns,
such as Montreal and Toronto, there is plenty of society,
and evidently cultivated society, though young Guardsmen
may speak shudderingly of colonists.
Box and Cox, by the way, went off very well consider-
ing that the Captain, who played Box, had been up on
the bridge almost the whole of the two previous nights,
and consequently did not quite know his part.
Sunday lith.
Last night we danced on deck till nearly eleven under
the most lovely soft moon I have ever seen. This morn-
ing we are running up the St. Lawrence along the
southern bank, the northern being dim in the extreme
distance. There is a long continuous range of hills
covered entirely with forest, except just along the water's
edge, where it has been cleared by the French-Canadian
settlers. They live along the shore, too close, I should say,
to the water line for comfort; but as their chief occupation
is fishing, I have no doubt they have good reasons for
their selection. There is scarcely a quarter of a mile for
the last twenty or thirty miles, I should say, in which
there is not a cottage, but the villages are far between.
The people are a simple, quiet folk, living just as their
fathers lived, happy, clean, contented, and stationary.
This last quality provokes the English of Upper Canada
dreadfully, who complain that the French make every-
thing they require at home, and buy nothing whatever
Vacation Rambles i 19
which contributes to the revenue of the Dominion except
a little cheap tea. However, there is much to be said for
the Frenchmen, and I am very glad that our English
people have constantly before them the example of such a
self-sufficing and unambitious life. In two or three hours,
probably before our morning service is over, the pilot will
be on board with papers, and we shall know what has
been doing in the great outside world. I was thinking of
telegraphing to you, but as the Company telegraph, and
publish our arrival " all well " in the English papers, it
seems scarcely worth while.
The pilot has just come on board and brought us
Canadian papers with copies of telegrams, and general
vague rumours of terrible reverses for France. I always
looked for them, as you know. This frightful reign of
eighteen years, begun in perjury and bloodshed, and
continued by constant pandering to the worst tendencies of
France, must have taken the power and heart out of any
nation. I pity the poor Canadians who still hold them-
selves more French than anything else, as indeed they
are. They gather on deck and tell one another that the
news is German, that it is all mere rumour. They will
find it too true in another day or two. I am very glad
to hear that the Orleans princes are now to go back.
They are a family of very gallant and aide gentlemen, and
ought to be with France at this moment. Wrong as I
think her, I hope she may soon be able to rally, shake ofi'
the charlatans whom she has allowed to misrule her, and
conclude an honourable peace. The pilot-boat went back
at once, and when she lands our safe arrival will be
telegraphed at once, so that I hope you may see it before
to-morrow evening — if you only know where to look in
the newspaper. I often think how very different those
short announcements at the head of the Shipping news
will seem to me in the future.
"Allan Line. The Pervman arrived off Father Point
yesterday. All well."
120 Vacation Rambles
Wednesday.
Events have been crowding us during the last thirty-
six hours — bless me, I mean the last sixty hours — I had
positively written Tuesday instead of Wednesday at the
top of this. 1 let my watch run clown on the Peruvian,
as it was too provoking to have to put it back thirty-five
minutes every morning. Since then time has gone all
whiz ! however, I shall pick up the time now and get to
my bearings, at least I shall try. Well, all Sunday after-
noon we ran up the glorious St. Lawrence, past the
mouths of what we should call big rivers, past the
Canadian watering-places, past one long straggling village
except where the hills are too steep or the soil absolutely
barren. The view is not unlike many Scotch ones, sub-
stituting scrub or stunted forest for heather. This of
course is a great disadvantage in a picturesque point of
view, but it is more than compensated by the great river.
I am very glad I came to the new world up the St.
Lawrence. Nothing could have brought the startling
contrast of the old and new world so vividly home to me
as this steaming literally day after day up the stream,
and finding it still at 700 miles from the mouth
two miles broad, with anchorage for the largest ships that
float. We went the round of the ship with the Captain
after dinner, to see the wonderful detail of the store-
rooms, and the huge fire-system which goes glowing on
through all the voyage. The sight of the twenty-five
great furnaces glowing, and consuming fifty-two tons of
coal a day, quite scared several of the ladies, who seemed
to think that the Peruvian was flying, I should say sail-
ing, presumptuously in the face of Providence not to have
caught fire during the voyage. Luckily we were within
a few hours of port, so their anxiety was not of long
duration. I went to bed for the last time in my crib on
the top of the drawers, leaving word for the quartermaster
to call me when we were getting near Quebec. Accord-
ingly I was roused at about three from one of the sleeps
without a turn even (by reason that there is no room to
Vacation Rambles 121
turn) which one gets on hoard ship, and scuffled up on
deck in my trousers and fur coat to find myself in the
most perfect moonlight rounding the last point below
Quebec. Then up went three rockets, and as we slacked
our speed at the side of the wharf right opposite the
citadel, two guns were fired and the voyage of the
Peruvian, was over. My packing was all done, so while
the vessel was being unladen I went quietly to bed again
and slept for another two or three hours amid all the din.
Between six and seven I turned out again and had a good
breakfast on board, after which came leave-takings, and
then those of us who were not going on by train and
were ready to start, went on board a little tug ferry-boat
and were paddled across to Quebec. I have sent a small
map to show you how the land lies. Our ferry-boat
took us over from Port Levi to the quay just under the
Citadel along the line I have dotted, and we at once
chartered two carriages to visit the falls of Montmorency,
to which you will see a line drawn on the map and which
is about six miles from Quebec. Oh, the air ! You know
what it is when we land at Dieppe, or at Brussels, or Aix.
Well, all that air is fog, depressing wet blanket compared
to this Canadian nectar. I really doubt whether it would
not be almost worth while to emigrate merely for the
exquisite pleasure of the act of living in this country.
Montreal, VMh August 1870.
1 must get on with my journal or shall fall altogether
astern — you have no idea how hard it is even to find
time to write a few lines home ; however if I can only
make up the time to-day I hope to keep down the arrears
more regularly hereafter. We had a long day of sight-
seeing in and about Quebec. First we drove down to
the Montmorency Falls, 220 feet high and very beautiful,
then back to the Citadel, which rises some 600 or 700
feet right above the river — a regular little Gibraltar ; then
we went oft' to the Heights of Abraham, at the back of the
1 2 2 Vacation Rambles
Citadel, where Wolfe fought his battle and was killed
after scaling the cliffs in the early morning. Then we
drove down into the town, and had lunch at a restaurant,
and walked about to see the place. Well worth seeing
it is ; a quaint, old, thoroughly French town of the last
century dropped down into the middle of the new world.
In the evening we went on board the great river steamer,
and came away all night up the St. Lawrence to Montreal.
There were 1000 passengers on board, every one of whom
had an excellent berth — mine was broader and lighter than
that on the Penman. AVe were not the least crowded in
the splendid saloon (some 150 feet long), and the open
galleries running all round the ship in two tiers. I
preferred the latter, though there was music, Yankee and
Canadian, in the saloon, and spent my evening till bed-
time out in the stern gallery looking at the most superb
moonlight on the smooth water you can conceive. We
had a small English party there, and there were half a
dozen constantly changing groups round us. The girls
have evidently much more freedom than at home, at
least more than they had in our day — two or three would
come out with as many young men, and sit round in a
ring. The men lighted cigars, and then they would all
set to work singing glees, songs, or what not, and chaffing
and laughing away for half an hour perhaps, after which
they would disappear into the saloon. There was a regular
bar on board at which all manner of cool drinks were
sold. We tried several, which I thought, I must say, very
nasty, especially brandy-smash. After a most comfortable
night I awoke between five and six as we were nearing
Montreal. The city is very fine, the river still two miles
broad, and ocean steamer drawing twenty feet and more
of water able to lie right up against the quay. S , a
friend of Sir J. Rose's, a great manufacturer here, whom
I had taken to the " Cosmopolitan," was in waiting on
the landing-place, and took us at once up to his charm-
ing house on the hill (the mountain they call it) at the
back of the city. He is a man of forty-three or forty -four;
Vacation Rambles i 2
o
his wife, a very pleasant woman a little younger, and
adopted daughter, Alice (a very sweet girl of nineteen, just
home from an English school), form the whole family. I
can't tell you how kind they are and how perfectly at
home they have made us. After breakfast we went down
to see the city, got photographed with the rest of the
above-named Peruvians, had a delicious lunch of fried
oysters at a luncheon shop kept by a Yankee, washed it
down with a drink called John Collins, a pleasant, cold,
weak, scented kind of gin and water. Sir Geo. Carter
and Sir Fras. Hinks, two of the present Government,
both of whom I had met in England, came to dinner, also
Holton the leading senator of the Opposition, and the two
young Eoses, one bringing his pretty young wife, and
we had a long and very interesting political talk after-
wards. Nothing could have suited me better, as there
are many points of Canadian politics I am very anxious
to get views on. We didn't get to bed till 12.30, so I
had no time to write. On Wednesday we saw more of
the city which I shan't attempt to describe till I can sit
by you with photographs and explain, lunched at the
Club, of which we have been made honorary members,
with a large party of merchants and other big folk, and
then at three were picked up by Mrs. S. , who drove us
up the river to a place called Lachine, past the rapids
(see Canadian boat-song), " The rapids are near and the
daylight's past." Lachine gets its queer name from the
first French Missionaries who started up the St. Lawrence
to get to China, and for some unaccountable reason
thought they had reached the flowery land when they
got to this place, so settled down and called it China,
The air was still charming, but the sky was beginning to get
less bright, and Mrs. S and A agreed that there
must be a forest burning somewhere. And so it proved, for
in a few hours the whole sky was covered with a smoke-
cloud, light but not depressing, like our fogs, but still so
dense that we could scarcely see across the river. We
got back in time for dinner, to which came Colonel Buller,
124 Vacation Rambles
now commanding the Rifles here ; Hugh Allan, the head of
the great firm of ship-owners to whom the Peruvian and
all the rest of the Allan line packets belong ; and several
young Canadians. It was very pleasant again, and again
I got a heap of information on Canadian subjects from
Allan, who is a longheaded able old Scotchman, the founder
of the immense prosperity of himself and all his family.
He has his private steam yacht and a great place on a
lake near here, wherein is a private telegraph, so that he
can wire all over the world from his own hall. Prince
Arthur went to stay with him when he was out here in
the late autumn and spring, and the Queen wired him
every day while he was there. Early next morning S ,
Miss A , I, and E, were off by rail to a station
ten or twelve miles up the river, where we waited till the
Montreal market-boat came down and picked us up to
shoot the rapids. We had a very pleasant run to Quebec,
and the shooting the rapids is very interesting, but neither
dangerous nor even exciting. The river widens out
perhaps to two and a half miles in width, and for some
mile or mile and a half breaks into these rapids, which
boil and rush along at a great pace, and in quite a little
boat would no doubt keep the steerer and oarsmen on
the stretch. The approach to Montreal under the great
Victoria Bridge, two miles long, is very noble. We got
back to breakfast at ten, and afterwards went up the
mountain at the back of the town, but the haze from the
burning forest quite spoiled the view. The carriage is
announced, so I must close.
Montreal, 20th August 1870.
1 hurried up my letters yesterday, so as to bring my
journal down to the day I was writing on, fearing lest
otherwise I should never catch the thread again. I doubt
whether I told you anything about this very fine city, in
the suburbs of which we are stopping, and which we leave
to-day. Well, I scarcely know how to begin to give you
an idea of it. It isn't the least like an English or indeed
Vacation Rambles 125
any European town, the reason being, I take it, that it has
been built with the necessity of meeting extremes of heat
and cold, which we never get. Except in the heart of the
city, where the great business streets are, there are trees
along the sides of all the thoroughfares — maples, which
give real shade, and are in many places indeed too thick,
and too near the houses for comfort I should say — as near
as the plane-tree was to our drawing-room window at 33.
This arrangement makes walking about very pleasant to
me, even when the thermometer stands at 90 J in the shade
as it did yesterday. Then instead of a stone foot-pavement
you have almost everywhere boards, timber being the
most plentiful production of the country. Walking along
the boards in the morning you see at every door a great
lump of ice, twenty pounds weight or so, lying there for
the maid to take in when she comes out to clean. This
is supplied by the ice merchants for a few shillings a year.
The houses are square, built generally of a fine limestone
found all over the island (Montreal is an island thirty-six
miles long by nine wide), and have all green open shutter-
blinds, which they keep constantly shut all day, as in
Greece, to keep out the heat, and double windows to keep
out the cold. The roofs are generally covered with tin
instead of tiles or slates, and all the church steeples, of
which there are a very large number, are tinned, as you
remember we saw them in parts of Austria and Hungary.
There are magnificent stores of dry goods, groceries, etc.,
but scarcely any shops in our sense. No butcher, milk-
man, greengrocer, etc., calls at the door, and the ladies have
all to go down to the market or send there. Nothing can
be better than the living, but Mrs. S complains that it is
very hard work for hausfraus, and I have heard Lady R
say the same thing. This house is in one of the shaded
avenues on the slopes of the mountain, two miles I should
say from the market. Mrs. S drives down every market-
day and buys provisions, market-days being twice a week,
but the stalls are open on other days also, so that if a
Hood of company comes in on the intermediate days, the
126 Vacation Rambles
anxious housewife need not be absolutely clone for. The
living is as good as can be, not aspiring to first-rate French
cookery, but equal to anything you find in good English
houses. Prices are very reasonable except for fancy
articles of clothing, etc. Furs, which you would expect
to find cheap, are at least as high as in London, and Pi— —
made an investment in gloves for which he paid six shillings
a pair. The city is the quietest and best-behaved I ever
was in. We dined at the mess of the 60th Rifles last
night, and walked home through the heart of the city at
10.30. Every one had gone to bed, apparently, for there
wasn't a light in fifty houses and we literally met no one —
not half a dozen people certainly in the whole distance.
Altogether I am very much impressed with the healthiness
of the life, morally and physically, and can scarcely imagine
any country I would sooner start in were I beginning life
again.
Tuesday morning, 23rd August 1870.
Well, to continue, on Saturday Ave broke up from
Montreal, having I think seen very thoroughly all the
persons and things best worth seeing in the place. Our
host had arranged that we should go and spend Sunday
with Mr. Hugh Allan, the head of the family which has
established the line of mail steamers to Liverpool and
Glasgow. He has been forty years out here, and when
he came Montreal had only 17,000 inhabitants, now it has
150,000; there was scarcely water for a 200 ton ship to
lie at the wharf, now you can see steamers of 2000 tons
and upwards always there. Hugh Allan is evidently a
very rich man now. He has a big house on the mountain
behind Montreal, and this place where I am now writing
from, on Memphremagog Lake, which if you have a good
map, you will find half in Canada and half in the New
England state of Vermont. It is a lovely inland sea,
about thirty-five miles long and varying from one to three
miles broad. Mr. Allan's house, where he entertained
Prince Arthur in the spring, stands on the top of a high
Vacation Rambles i 2 7
well-wooded promontory, about half-way up. It is a good,
commodious, gentleman's house, with deep verandahs,
thoroughly comfortable, but without pretence or show of
any kind. There is a large wooden out-building called
the Hermitage, about one hundred yards off, divided
entirely into bedrooms, so that there is room for lots of
guests besides the family, seven or eight of whom are
here. In another building there is an American bowling-
alley, and an excellent croquet ground before the house.
Mr. Allan keeps a nice steam yacht, which runs about the
lake daily with any one who likes to go, and there are
half a dozen rowing boats, so time need not hang heavily
on the most restless hands. I accepted the invitation, as
a few days at Memphremagog is evidently considered the
thing to do by all Canadians, and the last twenty miles or
so of the railway to Newport (Vermont), the place at the
foot of the lake at which you embark, has only just been
finished, right through the forest, so that it was a good
chance of seeing the beginnings of colonial life in the bush.
And I am very glad that I did come, for certainly if the
journey (120 miles altogether) had been planned for the
purpose, it couldn't have been more interesting. After
leaving Montreal we travelled I should say for from thirty
to forty miles through reclaimed country, dotted with
French villages and the homesteads of well-to-do farmers.
Then we gradually slipped into half-cleared woods, and
then into virgin forest. Presently we came across a great
block of the forest on fire, but in broad daylight the sight
is not the least grand, though unpleasant from the smoke,
and melancholy from the waste and mischief which the
fires do. I think I told you in my last that the forests
about Ottawa, the capital of the Dominion, were on fire
last week. The fire became so serious that great fears
were entertained for the town, the militia and volunteers
were called out, and a special train with fire-engines was
sent up from Montreal. Scores of poor settlers were in
the streets, having with difficulty escaped with their lives,
and last of all several wretched bears trotted out of the
128 Vacation Rambles
burning woods into the town. The fire we passed through
was not at all on this scale, and didn't seem likely to get
ahead. There were the marks of fires of former years on
all sides in these forests. Tall stems by hundreds, stand-
ing up charred and gaunt out of the middle of the bright
green maple underwood, which is fast growing up round
them, and in a very short time makes the tangle as thick
as ever. Before long we came to small clearings of from
three to four acres, on each of which was a rough wooden
shanty, with half a dozen wild, brown, healthy-looking
children rolling and scrambling about it, and standing up
in their single garments to cheer the train. On these plots
the trees had all been felled about two feet from the ground,
and the brushwood cleared away, and there were crops of
Indian corn, oats, or buckwheat growing all round the
stumps. Then we came to plots which had been occupied
longer, where the shanty had grown into a nice-sized cot-
tage, with a good-sized outhouse near. Here all the stumps
had been cleared, and the plot divided by fences, and
three or four cows would be poking about. Then we
came to a fine river and ran along the bank, passing here
and there sawmills of huge size, and stopping at one or
two large primitive villages, gathered round a manufactory.
In short, in the day's run we saw Canadian life in all its
phases, ending with a delicious twelve miles' run up the
lake in Mr. Allan's steam yacht, with the whole sky
flickering with Northern lights, which shot and played
about for our special delight. Our railway party were Mr.
Allan; Mr. and Mrs. S , and Miss B , their adopted
daughter ; General Lindsay, whom I knew well in England
and like very much ; Colonel Eyre, his military secretary,
and ourselves. Then there are eight children here. We
had a most luxurious car, with a little sitting-room in
Avhich we each had an easy chair, and there were two
most enticing-looking little bedrooms, everything as clean
and neat as you could have it, and we could walk out on
to a platform at either end to look at the view. There
was a boy also in attendance in a little sort of spare room
Vacation Rambles 129
where the luggage went, who ministered any amount of
iced water to any one who called. This is decidedly the
most luxurious travelling I ever had, but then the car was
the private one of the manager of the Grand Trunk Kail-
way ; and the democratic cars in which every one else
went, and in which indeed we had to travel for the last
few miles, were very different affairs. Fancy my intense
delight on Sunday morning, as I walked from the Hermit-
age up to the house to breakfast through some flower-beds,
to see two humming-birds, poising themselves before
flower after flower while probing and trying the blooms
with their long bills, and then springing back with a stroke
of their lovely little tails, and whisking off to the next
bloom. They were green and brown, not so lovely in
colour as many you have seen in collections, but exquisite
as eye need ask to look at. The humming-birds have
been certainly my greatest natural history treat as yet,
not excepting the whales. I had seen a whale before, a
small one, in the Hebrides, and I had never seen a humming-
bird except stuffed ; moreover I expected to see whales, but
not humming-birds. We saw a fine great bald-headed
eagle to-day, too, sailing over the lake, but his flight was
not anything like so fine as those we saw soaring over the
Iron Gates as we went spinning down the Danube nine
years ago. We have a very charming visit here steaming
about the lake, driving along the banks, playing croquet
and bowls and billiards, and laughing, chaffing, and loafing
to any extent. The family are very nice, and I hope he
will soon be made a baronet and one of the first grandees
of the Dominion. To-morrow morning at five we start
for Boston in the steam yacht, which takes us down to
Newport at the end of the lake. So by the evening I
shall perhaps get a letter from you. How I do thirst for
home news after three weeks' absence.
Elmwood, Cambridge, Massachusetts,
25th August 1870.
I forget just where I left off, whether I had brought my
K
130 Vacation Rambles
journal up to our leaving Memphremagog or not. The
last day there was as pleasant as the rest. The young
folks played croquet and American bowls all the morning,
while I lay on the grass watching for humming-birds and
talking occasional politics to any one who would join me.
At about twelve a retired judge, Day by name, who lives
four or five miles off, drove over with a member of the
Government (I forget his name) who was to start from
the pier below the house in the lake steamer. Mr. Allan
owns this steamer, which stops at his pier whenever he
runs up a flag ; so you see the privileged classes are not
extinct by any means in the British dominion in the new
world. Now the Judge, having a seat in his light sort of
phaeton, proposed to drive me over to the post-office,
about four miles off, where he was going, and to bring me
back to luncheon. So I embarked behind his two strong
little trotting nags and had a most interesting drive. The
roads were not worse than many Devonshire lanes, and
where the pitches were steepest, the stout little nags made
nothing of them.
The views of the lake were exquisite, and the Judge one
of the pleasantest of men. He had been employed in 1865
on a mission to Washington, and gave me very graphic
accounts of his interviews with Lincoln and the other
leading men there, and confirmed many of my own views
as to the comparative chances of the two great sections of
our race in the new world in the future. He is less
apprehensive of Canada joining the United States than
most men of his standing, and I think has good reason
for his confidence. Material interest will perhaps for a
time (or rather, after a time, for at present it is very
doubtful on which side they weigh) sway in the direction
of annexation to the United States, but the ablest and
most energetic of the younger men of the cultivated
classes are so strongly bent on developing a distinct
national life, that I expect to see them carry their country
for independence rather than annexation, when the time
comes, if it ever should, of a final cutting of the ropes
Vacation Rambles 131
which bind them to us. After luncheon we went off in
the steam yacht to a bay in the lake, and then in row
boats four or five miles up the bay into the heart of the
hills, where we saw bald-headed eagles, and black and
white king-fishers five times the size of ours, and after a
very interesting and pleasant excursion got back to dinner,
finishing the evening with dancing. At five next morning
we heard the steamer's whistle calling us. The young
ladies were up to give us a cup of coffee and parting
good words, and then we steamed down for Newport,
where we were to take the rail through the Connecticut
valley to Boston. On the Newport wharf which joins the
station we said good-bye to Allan and Stephen, and shall
carry away most charming memories of our stay in Canada.
General Lindsay and Eyre went with, us, and their com-
panionship made the journey very agreeable, though it
was as hot as the Lower Danube, and the dust more un-
comfortable and dirtying than any we have at home. Most
part of the way the soil is as light and sandy as that about
Dorking, and the trains seem to raise greater clouds of it.
The greater part of the journey was along the banks
of the Merrimac, a fine river with as much water as the
Thames at Kichmond, I should say, but spread over a bed
generally twice as broad. AVe saw the White Mountains
at a distance on our left, and passed through a number of
flourishing towns. The thing that struck me most was
the apparent fusion into one class of the whole community.
As you know, every one goes into the same long carriages,
holding from sixty to eighty people. Of these there were
four or often five on our train, and I often passed through
them (as you may do, up the middle, without disturbing
the passengers, who sit in pairs with their faces to the
engine on each side of the passage), as there was a great
deal of local traffic, seventy people often getting out at a
station, I thus saw really a very considerable number of
people on this first day in the States, and certainly should
have been exceedingly puzzled to sort them in the broadest
way, either into rich and poor, gentlemen or ladies (in the
132 Vacation Rambles
conventional sense) and common people, or any other
radical division. I certainly saw at some stations children
running about without shoes, and workmen in as dirty
blouses as those of Europe ; but in the trains they were
all well dressed, quiet, self-respecting people, without any
pretence to polish, or any approach to vulgarity. The
bad taste in women's dress, which I am told to expect
elsewhere, does not certainly prevail in New England,
All the women wore neat short dresses, with moderate
trimmings according to taste, but I did not see an ex-
travagant garment or, I am bound to add, a really pretty
one along the whole line. On the whole I thought the
women as good looking as any I have ever travelled
amongst, but paler and sadder, or at any rate quieter, than
a like number of Englishwomen. Once or twice men in
stove-pipe hats (the ordinary tile of so-called civilisation),
and wearing perhaps better cloth and whiter linen than
the average, got in, but not one whom you would have
picked out as a person bred and brought up in a different
way, and occupying a station above or apart from the
rest, as you see in every train in England. It may have
been chance, but certainly it was startling. Then another
surprise. They are certainly the least demonstrative
people so far as strangers are concerned that I have ever
been amongst. I had the prevailing idea that a Yankee
was a note of interrogation walking about the world, and
besides craving for all sorts of information about you, was
always ready to impart to you the particulars of his own
birth, parentage, and education, and his opinion on every-
thing, " from Adam's fall to Huldy's bonnet." Well, I left
our party purposely several times on the journey to try
the experiment of sitting on one of the small seats carry-
ing two only with a Yankee. In not one single case did
either of those I sat by say a single word to me, and when
I commenced they just answered my question very civilly
and relapsed into total silence. I may add that this first
experience has been confirmed since, both in street and
railway cai's.
Vacation Rambles 133
We got to Boston at about seven, and then had our
first experience of the price of things here. It is only four
miles out to Lowell's, who lives on the other side of
Cambridge, but we were obliged to pay five dollars for a
carriage to get out there. We could get nothing but a
great handsome family coach with two horses, and in that,
accordingly, out we lumbered. Cambridge is a very pretty
suburb of Boston, the centre point of it being Harvard
College, consisting of four or five large blocks of red brick
building and a stone chapel, standing in the midst of some
fine trees. Elmwood Avenue in which Lowell lives is
about half a mile beyond the College — a broad road
shaded on both sides by rows of trees planted as in the
Boulevards, as indeed is done along all the roads. The
Professor's house is a good, roomy, wooden one standing in
the midst of some thirty acres of his own land, on which
stand many good trees, and especially some pre-revolution-
ary English elms of which he is very proud. He was
sitting on the piazza of the house with his wife and
Holmes' brother, taking a pipe and not the least expecting
us. The Irish maid told us to " sit right down " while she
went to fetch him. In a minute he and his wife came
and put us at our ease, explaining that no letter had ever
come since we had landed. Mabel was away at the sea
for a few days.
Elmwood Avenue, Cambridge,
Zlst August 1870.
1 managed with some difficulty and scramble to get oil'
a letter to you by yesterday's post, which ought to go by
steamer from New York to-day, bringing my narrative up
to our arrival here. We found Lowell on his verandah
with his wife and friend, and sat there talking till ten.
I am not the least disappointed with him, Henry Cowper
notwithstanding. I have never met a more agreeable
talker, and his kindness to me is quite unbounded. Then
he has not a grain of vanity in his composition, but is as
simple and truthful as the best kind of boy. The house
134 Vacation Rambles
is a wooden one, as four- fifths of the houses in New
England are. It is roomy, airy, and furnished with
quaint old heavy pieces, bureaus like ours, and solid
heavy little mahogany tables, all dating from the last
century. The plate in the same way is all of the Queen
Anne shape, like your little tea-service and my grand-
mother's milk jugs and tea-pots which George has. The
plainness and simplicity of the living, too, is most at-
tractive. We breakfast at 8.30, beginning with porridge,
and following up with eggs, some hot dish, corn cakes,
toast and fruit. Then there is no regular meal till six — a
terribly late and fashionable dinner hour here, as the pre-
valent hour is two or three — and afterwards we have a cup
of coffee and crackers (good plain biscuits) and a glass of
toddy at ten. Miss Mabel and others have given us a
desperate idea of the difficulties as to service, but they
certainly do not exist in this establishment just now. The
principal servant that we see is an Irish girl, Rose by
name, who reminds me of one of Mrs. Cameron's servants
except that she is far more diligent. The ingenious way
in which she hid away all my wardrobe in the ample
cupboards and recesses of the bureau in my room was a
perfect caution, and she whisks away my things and gets
them beautifully washed, wholly refusing to allow me to
pay for them. The parlour-maid is a little, slight, ladylike
girl, who certainly is not a first-rate waiter, but then there
is no need of one. The dinner is confined to one thing at
a time — soup, sometimes fish, a joint, or chickens, and a
sweet. The Professor opens his own wine at the table
and passes it round, and very good it is, but one scarcely
needs it in this climate. A cook whose acquaintance I
have also made, and an Irishman who has been thirty years
on the place in a roomy cottage, and attends to the cows,
garden, and farm of thirty acres, complete the establish-
ment. Mrs. Lowell, who is a very nice, quiet, and clever
woman, is very fond of flowers, and manages to keep a
few beds going about the house, and there are a number
of very fine trees, so that though there is no pretence to
Vacation Rambles 135
the neatness and finish of English grounds and garden,
the place has a thoroughly homely, cultivated atmosphere
and look which is very attractive, and the whole town of
Cambridge seems to be made up of just such houses. W e
have lost no time in lionising men and places. On
Thursday we took the car into Boston and ascended the
monument on Bunker's Hill, 290 steps up a dark spiral
staircase. Lowell had never been up it before, nor indeed
has any native as far as I can find out. The view at
the top repays you thoroughly for the grind with the
thermometer at eighty in the shade. Boston Harbour,
where the tea was thrown out of the English ships in 1775,
and the whole town and suburbs lie below you like a map,
and are very striking. After descending we hunted up a
number of people, including young Holmes, our Colonel,
who was as charming as ever, absorbed in his law at
which he is doing famously, and resolved in his first holiday
to revisit England. He came out to dine, and fraternised
immensely with R , and with him a young Howells, the
editor of the Atlantic Monthly, whom Conway had brought
to our house years ago, and I had entirely forgotten.
However he is a very nice fellow, and I don't think I
betrayed my obliviousness. Next day, Friday, we had a
long country drive in the morning through broad avenues
lined with three fascinating wooden houses, each standing
with plenty of elbow-room in its own grounds, up to a
wooded hill from which we got a splendid view of the city.
Then I went into Boston and called on the Autocrat of
the Breakfast Table, who is one of the best talkers I ever
met, and quite worthy to be the Colonel's father. He is
one of Motley's oldest friends, and deeply grieved, as all
good men here, at his recall. His chief talk was of his
memories of his English visits, and the folk he met, and
so I find it with all the best men and women here.
Notwithstanding the bitterness which our press created
during the war, I am convinced that with a very little
tact and judicious handling on our side the inter-
national relations may be easily made all we can wish
136 Vacation Rambles
as far as New England is concerned. Afterwards I
sauntered about the town, looking at some good statues
in their park (Boston Common), and letting the place sink
into me. The Common is about the size, I should say, of
Green Park, but of a regular shape. It lies on the side
of a hill at the top of which are the State House and
other public buildings and private houses. It is well
wooded with fine American and English elms (pre-revolu-
tionary, they say, but I don't believe it. They are not
used to our elms, and I doubt whether any of these are
100 years old) on the upper part and along the sides;
the middle is a great playground for the boys, who are
diligent there all day at base-ball, our rounders, which
I should think must spoil the enjoyment of the place for
ladies and children. However they can always take to
the pretty gardens at the lower end, in which is a very
fine equestrian statue of Washington, and one of Everett
by Story, by no means fine in my opinion. How should
it be, when he insisted on being taken with his arm right up
in the air, his favourite attitude in speaking, and stands
up in that attitude in ordinary buttoned frock coat and
trousers % Everett has not been a trustworthy public man
to my mind, and is simply nothing unless it is an orator,
and I can't say I think it wise to put him up there on
the palpable stump. But we have made so many mis-
takes in our public statues that I suppose it must run in
the blood. The best houses in the town, really charming
residences, line the two sides and top of the Common,
and fine stores the bottom. I have never seen a place I
would so soon live in out of England as in one of these
houses looking on to Boston Common. The old business
town is being rebuilt just as London — red brick two or
three story houses giving way everywhere to five or six
stories of granite or stone. The town has as old and settled
a look and feeling about it as any I know ; but they have
few old buildings, and I am afraid are going to pull down
the most characteristic, the old State House, because it
has ceased to be used for public purposes, and its
Vacation Rambles 137
removal will make a fine broad place and relieve the traffic
of several narrow streets in the heart of the town. It
will be a sad pity, and so unnecessary here, for they
might carry it off bodily to any other site. You know
how we have often heard, and wondered, scarce believing,
of the raising bodily of the great hotels, etc., at Chicago.
Well, suddenly, in Boston I came across a great market, three
stories high (the upper part being occupied as houses) and
1 50 or 200 feet long, as big, say, as three houses in Grosvenor
Square, which they were moving bodily back on rollers so
as to widen the street. There were the wooden ways
and the rollers, and the great block with all its marketing
and living inhabitants lying on them, and already some
twelve feet on its journey. It did not look any the worse
for its journey unless it were in the foundations, where
there were a few places which had been filled up, I saw,
with new brickwork. The long pit twelve feet deep
which has been left between the market and the street
will now be turned into cellars, over which the new
pavement will pass. On the Saturday we dined with the
Saturday Club at 2.30 P.M., where were all the New
England notables now in town. I sat on the right of
Sumner, the State Senator, who was in the chair, with
Boutwell, the Secretary of the Treasury, on my right, and
Emerson on the other side of Sumner. So you may fancy
how I enjoyed the sitting. Emerson is perfectly delightful :
simple, wise, and full of humour and sunshine. The
number of good Yankee stories I shall bring back unless
they burst me will be a caution. Forbes, a great Boston
merchant who owns an island seventy-two miles long off
the coast, close to Nantucket and Cape Cod, which you
will find in the map, came up and claimed to have seen
me for five minutes when I had the small-pox in 18G.'J.
He knows J well, and insisted on carrying us oft* to
his island that night, that we might attend a huge camp-
meeting on a neighbouring island on Sunday. So he
drove up here with us and we packed — the dear Professor
agreeing that we ought to do it — went down sixty miles by
138 Vacation Rambles
rail, slept on his yacht, and found ourselves in the
morning at his wharf on the island. Your second letter
came to hand from Cromer when we returned here, and
has as usual lighted up my life.
Cambridge, 2nd September 1870.
We are off this afternoou for Newport on our way to New
York, and so south and west. The express man will be
here directly for my luggage, which will be a little
curtailed, as these dear kind people insist on our returning,
and leaving all we don't want in our rooms. So I shall
drop my beaver, leaving it with the most serious admonitions
in the charge of Rose, the Irish girl, who is a character. I will
now take up the thread of my story, merely remarking that
what you seem to think a dull catalogue of small doings
at a small watering-place is quite unspeakably delightful
to me away here. On the wharf at Nashont Island we
found the two young F s, the elder a colonel in the
war, and five months a prisoner in the South, the younger,
Malcolm, just left college. I never saw two finer young
men, both of them models of strength. They had come
down to meet us and bathe, so we stopped and had a
splendid header off the wharf and a swim in the bay, after
careful inquiries by E, as to sharks, to which young
F replied with a twinkle in his eye, that they didn't
lose many friends that way. We walked up to the house
after our dip, a large wooden building, with deep verandahs
and sun-blinds, furnished quite plainly, even roughly, but
capable of holding nearly any number of people. We
were about eighteen at breakfast : Mrs. F a handsome,
clever, elderly lady, born a Quaker, and with their charm
of manner, who made tea for the party, and on whose right
I sat. Opposite her was her husband with Mrs. L— — ,
the young widow of Lowell's nephew Charles, the famous
soldier, on his left, and therefore opposite me. On my
right, a young woman, a cousin of the F s, a Mrs.
P , whose husband sat down towards the end of the
Vacation Rambles 1 39
table, the manager of a Western railway, who has given
ns free passes over his line. Colonel F , the eldest
son, was Lowell's major, and served with distinction in the
war, in which he was taken prisoner, and spent five months
in Southern prisons ; his wife, a buxom young woman
with very good eyes, is Emerson's daughter, and her brother,
a bright boy of twenty-two or twenty-three, was near me.
There were two daughters of the family, and two other
girls and several boys, all pleasant and easy in hand ; but
the gem of the party was the young widow. She is not
actually pretty, but with a face full of the nobleness of
sorrow, which has done its work. I have seldom been
more touched than in watching her gentle, cheerful ways,
and her sympathy with all the bright life around her.
Since the war, in which her husband and only brother
R. S (who commanded the first coloured regiment
from Massachusetts, and was buried under his negroes at
Fort Wagner) were killed, she has devoted herself to the
Freedmen, and is Honorary Secretary to the Society for
educating them. After breakfast we started in the yacht
for the neighbouring island, on which the great Methodist
camp-meeting was going on. This Sunday was the great
day. They have occupied this island for some years, and
have built there a whole town of pretty little wooden
houses like big Chinese toys, dotted about amongst the
trees. Most of them consist of only one long room,
divided by curtains in the middle. The front half opens
to the street, but raised one step above it is the sitting-
room, and the inmates sice}) in the back, behind the
curtains. A few houses have a story above ; but F
bought a lot of photographs for us, which will show you
the style of house better than a page of description. There
were literally thousands of people on the island, upwards
of two thousand collected in a huge circular tent in the
middle of the houses, where a preacher was shouting to
them. We sat on the skirts of the congregation and
listened for some time, but as he was only talking wildly
about Nebuddah, Positivism, Theodore Parker, and other
140 Vacation Rambles
heresies and heretics, I was not edified, and got no worship
till he had done, when we all stood up and sang the
doxology, which was very impressive. I was much dis-
appointed at the gathering in a religious point of view.
It was a rare chance for a man with a living word in him —
those thousands of decent, sober, attentive New England
men and women. They told me that in the evening it
would be much more interesting, when there would be
great singing of hymns, and many persons would tell how
they came to experience religion as they call it ; but we
could not stay for this. The meeting lasts for weeks, and
is in fact an excuse for the gathering at a pretty sea-place
in the early autumn of a number of good folk who would
think the ordinary watering-places ungodly, but have a
longing for a break in their ordinary colourless lives. We
sailed back in time for early dinner, meeting on the
way huge steamers packed with passengers for the camp-
meeting, till they were top heavy. Next day we spent in
fishing off the rocks for blue-fish, and in a beautiful little
lake of three-quarters of a mile long (one of several in the
island) for bass. I caught a blue fish of nine lbs., the
biggest and strongest I have ever caught, also the only
bass which was taken ; so I naturally crowed loudly. The
island hours are : breakfast, eight o'clock or half-past eight ;
dinner, two or three ; tea, with cold meat, half-past six or
seven. After tea on both evenings we got into full swing
on the war. I found Mr. F and his wife deeply
grieved and prejudiced as to our conduct, our feeling to
them as a nation, etc., and set myself to work hard to
remove all this as far as I could. As he is a very energetic
and influential man it is worth taking any amount of
trouble about, and I think I succeeded. In the evenings
the young folk sang a number of the war songs, several
composed by or for the negro soldiers, going to famous
airs, and full of humour and pathos. The March
through Georgia is very spirited, and a version of
the "John Brown" March, which seems to have super-
seded " We'll hang Jef Davies," etc., exceedingly touch-
Vacation Rambles 141
ing — at least I know it was so to me, as all the young
folk sang —
He hath sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat.
He is sifting out the souls of men before His judgment seat :
Be swift, my soul, to welcome Him ! be jubilant, my feet.
In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me.
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make them free.
Our God is marching or.
'©
To think of what that sweet young woman had gone
through (the news of her husband's death at the head of
his brigade, was read by her in a newspaper), and to see
her sitting there calmly and trying to join in the chorus,
was cruite too much for me. However, nobody noticed my
emotion. Our last morning, Tuesday, was spent in a
famous wild ride over the island. After breakfast we
found seven very excellent riding horses (three with side-
saddles) at the door. At home there would have been
three grooms, here each horse has a leathern strap fixed to
the bit, which you just buckle round his neck till you
want to stop, and then fasten it to the nearest tree or
lamp-post. The whole turn-out is of course rough, but I
don't wish to see nicer ladies' hacks than the three which
the two Miss F s and Mrs. P rode. AVe sailed
back in the yacht to another little port, a few miles north
of New Bedford, F having provided us as a parting
present with free passes over almost all the Western rail-
ways, which will save me at least £20 I should think.
He is Chairman of several, and so can do it without any
trouble. We found the dear Lowells expecting us, and
my second letter also waiting, so you may think that
I had a joyful evening. Next day, Wednesday, we
drove to Concord to dine with Judge Hoar, the late
Attorney-General of the United States, a very able, fine
fellow. We passed over classic ground, the very road
along which the English troops marched in April 1776
to destroy the stores, when the first collision of the War
142 Vacation Rambles
of Independence took place at Concord Bridge and in
the village of Lexington. You may perhaps remember
in the second series of the Biglow Papers " Sumthin' in
the Pastoral Line," in which old Concord Bridge and the
monument which has been put up to commemorate the
fight, talk together over the Trent affair. The Judge's
two sons, very nice young fellows, pulled us up Con-
cord River, which runs at the bottom of their garden,
to the spot, and on the way (which is very pretty) Ave saw
lots of tortoises sitting and basking on the stones, and
popping in when we approached, and heard a lot of capital
Yankee stories from the Judge. Dinner at three ; Emer-
son came, and there were two Miss H— — s, and a Miss
S , a handsome girl, sister of the best oar in the
Harvard boat of last year. I enjoyed the dinner and
smoke afterwards immensely, and am at last quite sure
that I am doing some good with some of these men, all of
whom are influential, and most of them sadly prejudiced
against us still as a nation. For myself it is quite im-
possible to express their kindness. They seem as if they
can never do enough for me. When we got back to
Cambridge, we found Miss M- and Dr. Lowell, brother
to James, an English clergyman, and quite charming too
in his way.
New York.
I think I have told you already the sort of royal
progress I am making. Some principal citizen always
comes to the station to meet us in his carriage, books our
luggage by the express (an admirable institution which
saves you all the trouble with lnggage), drives us up to
his house, lodges us in the best rooms, has all the best
folks in the neighbourhood to meet us at breakfast, dinner,
tea, takes us to the sights of the neighbourhood, keeps all
his servants out of sight when we are going, so that we
can't give any one a penny or even pay our washing bills,
and finally sends us and our luggage down to the next
boat or steamer, when we are booked already probably
Vacation Rambles 143
by a new friend. Certainly I never saw, heard of, or
could imagine anything like the hospitality. It is no
doubt in some degree, and in individual cases, owing to
the part I took during the war in England, but Democrats
as well as Republicans have been amongst our warmest
hosts ; in fact, I am fairly puzzled, and allow the tide at
last to carry me along, floating down it and enjoying
everything as well as I can. I think in my last I got to
our start from Boston. No ! was it 1 At any rate, I
wrote about our day at Concord, I know, as to which I
shall have to tell you more when we meet. After we
got home Miss Mabel rushed upstairs, got into her photo-
graphing dress, the quaintest turn-out you can conceive,
and commenced a series of groups, etc., which you shall
have specimens of when I get back. She is endless fun ;
has the most arch way of talking to her father as
" sir " every now and then • is charming with her step-
mother ; and altogether as bright a bit of life about a
house as you would meet on a summer's day. I parted
from Lowell and his home feeling that the meeting had
been more than successful. For these eighteen or nine-
teen years I have revelled in his books — indeed, have got
so much from them and learned to love the parent of
them so well, as I imagined him, thatf I almost feared the
meeting, lest pleasant illusions should be broken. I found
him much better than his books. We had a pleasant
three hours' rail to Newport, finding Mr. Field, a Phila-
delphian banker, at the station with his carriage. We
were friends at once, for he is a famous, frank, good-
looking, John Bullish man of the world, who has travelled
all over Europe and retained his new world simplicity
and heartiness. He drove us all round the fashionable
watering-place, the description of which I must postpone
or I never shall get through (as we say here). His
cottage, as he calls it, in accordance with the fashion
here, is a charming villa, on the most southern point of
Newport, close to the rocks on which the grand Atlantic
roll was beating magnificently as we drove up.
144 Vacation Rambles
Saturday morning a lot of men came to breakfast,
including Colonel H , the officer who had been the
first to volunteer to take command of negroes in Virginia,
before the New England States even began mustering
them. I was delighted to make his acquaintance, as I
knew his name in my anti-slavery standard as a real,
advanced Radical, and I was anxious to realise that type
of Yankee of which I had only seen Lloyd Garrison in
England. He was very fascinating to my mind, and the
most refined man in manners and look I have yet met, but
I should say decidedly a cracked fellow in the good sense.
We adjourned to the spouting rock, just at the point
where the surf was beating gloriously, and as I continued
talking with H , of course I got a ducking by getting
too near this rock, which is hollow underneath, so that it
sends a spout of water up like a huge whale some second
or two after the breaker hits it. The sight was superb,
and well worth the payment of an unstarched waistcoat
and shirt. We got home, and I changed at 11.30 or
thereabouts, and when I came in to dress for dinner there
was my waistcoat, washed and starched, on the bed. Mrs.
Field had heard me say in joke that I should be out of
white waistcoats. We went to the Episcopal Church on
Sunday morning and had a good sermon of a quarter of
an hour, sitting in the pew of an acquaintance of the
previous day, a Mrs. H of New York, who drove us
about in her handsome carriage, and insisted on giving me
two books — one being extracts from Lincoln's Speeches and
Letters, which I am very glad to have. In the evening we
were sent down to the pier, where we were picked up by
the most magnificent steamer ever seen in the world, I
should think, and by six next morning were running
along the north river, one of the many entrances by sea
to New York harbour. The approaches to the city are
superb, but the first view of it disappointed me, the
buildings along the water-side being for the most part
poor and almost mean. We found Hewitt's carriage
waiting, he being out of town for his Sunday, and drove
Vacation Rambles 145
up through Broadway and Fourth Avenue to his house,
which is a splendid roomy one, belonging to his father-in-
law, Mr. Cooper. The dear old gentleman, a hearty
veteran of seventy-nine, is the founder of the Cooper's
Institute, a working-man's college on a large scale. He
has spent nearly a million dollars upon it, and it is
certainly the best institution of the kind I have ever
seen. He is one of the most guileless and sweetest of
old men, and I shall have much to tell you of him. Mr.
Hewitt, my friend, who is in partnership with him, and
his wife and family live with the old gentleman. Here I
found free admission to the four best clubs in New York —
the Union League, the Century, and even the Manhattan,
a democrat club of which Hewitt is a distinguished mem-
ber. The nice brisk woman in the house gave us an
excellent breakfast, and we started for the town about
eleven. One of the first places I went to was Eoebuck's
store, where I found him very flourishing. But I can't
go on to catalogue our doings or shan't get this off. As
very few folk are in New York, we are off to-day to West
Point up the Hudson, where we stay for a military ball
to-morrow night ; on Friday we get to Niagara, and then
away west, certainly as far as Omaha, to see prairies, etc.,
and possibly to San Francisco. We must be back here
or in New England on the 1st of October, on the 6th is
the Harvard Memorial ceremony, laying the first stone
of their memorial building, on the 11th I am in for an
address, and after that shall set my face homewards. I
have looked at myself in the glass at your request and
believe I look fabulous.
Garrison's Landing, opposite West Point,
Friday, 9th September 1870.
I already look wistfully along the pages of my pocket-
book which intervene between this and the beginning of
November, and feel very like bolting home instead of
going west. The only moments I have for writing are
L
146 Vacation Rambles
early (it is now 6.30) or after I come up to bed, as the
dear, good folk provide occupation for all the rest of the
time. Well, we got to New York on Monday morning
by the East Eiver, and left it on Wednesday afternoon by
the Hudson, having, I think, seen it superficially, so that
I should retain a clear idea of it if I never saw it again.
We dined on Monday at the Union League Club, Tuesday
at the Manhattan, going in afterwards to the Century —
all three clubs as complete, I think, as ours and open
to strangers in every corner. We left New York on
Wednesday afternoon with Mr. , Chairman of the
Illinois Central Eailway, who has this delicious place on
the slope of the mountain opposite West Point. As
usual there were carriages at the pier, and all trouble,
expense, etc., has been taken off our hands. Mrs.
is the nicest Yankee lady we have seen (except Mabel),
like Mrs. Goschen in face and charmingly appreciative.
Her husband, staunch American, about fifty. The more
fanatic Americans they are the more they seem to like
to do for me, and as I spend the greater part of my
time in showing them how mistaken they must be in
their views as to England, else how is it that we didn't
interfere and get to war, I feel I am doing good work.
They take to me, I can see, apart from my proclivities.
I am obliged to give up poor old Pam, the mercantile
community of England, and the majority of the aristo-
cracy ; but when I have made a Jonah of these, I always
succeed in bringing these good, simple, candid, impulsive
fellows to admit that we did them no bad turn in their
troubles. We leave to-day for Niagara, and during the
next fortnight I hardly know how or when I can write.
Clifton Hotel, opposite Niagara Falls,
\\ih September 1870.
I am glad to find that I shall be able to get off this
one more letter to you by regular post before we plunge
away west for nearly a fortnight. I do so long for you
Vacation Rambles 147
every now and then Avhen there is something to see which
you would specially appreciate, not only then as you well
know, but then specially, in the glorious reaches of the
Hudson near West Point, for instance, where you have all
the beauty of the Scotch Highlands, with a hundred well-
kept rich men's houses, and a monster hotel or two crown-
ing some high point, — an excellent substitute, in my view,
for the ruined keeps of robber barons on the Rhine, — and
endless steamers and sloops, with their white sails and
great tows, as they call them, of a dozen large flats lashed
together and bringing down lumber and corn from the
west, passing up and down ; but, above all, last night,
when we went under the light of a glorious full moon and
saw these mighty falls from above, and then went down
some 200 steps, and along under the overhanging cliffs, till
we actually got under the end of the horse-shoe fall on
the Canadian side, and looked up and saw the moon through
the falling water. Just as we descended, an American
gentleman and his daughter and an English girl with them
came up, to whom we gave our seats, and when we came
back they were still there, so we told them what we had
seen and offered to escort them down. They were delighted,
and " papa" did not object, so down we all went, and so
we had a second treat behind the cataract, and being with
these ladies made me horribly wishful to get you there.
The girl (Philadelphian) was very pretty and simple, so
I handed her over to R , and gave my arm to the
English one. To-day we went across the ferry amid a
great turbulence of waters, and looked up at the descend-
ing rivers, to the English Church on the opposite side.
An American bishop preached, and afterwards we walked
on Goat Island, above and between the two falls, and saw
such effects of rainbows, and lilac and green and purple
and pure white surges, as it is utterly impossible to
describe, but I shall try to do it by the help of photographs
when I get back. Then we had a bath in the rush just
above the Falls ; you have a little room through which a
slice some four feet wide of the water is allowed to rush ;
148 Vacation Rambles
you get in at the side, in the back water, and then take
hold of a short rope fixed close above the rush, and let the
waters seize and tear at you, which it does with a vengeance,
tugging as if it would carry off your legs and pull you in
two in the middle. You can get out of it in a moment
by just slewing yourself round, and the sensation is
marvellously delicious. I forget whether you had one of
the baths at Geneva, where the blue Rhone rushes through
at about a third of the pace. That is the only bath I
ever remember the least to be compared to this above
Niagara. But let me see, I hadn't got farther with you
than our chateau on the Hudson. Well, we left it on Friday
after breakfast at about nine o'clock, and travelled away
steadily with only twenty minutes' stop at Albany, where
we dined, and a quarter of an hour at Rochester. The
greater part of the road was decidedly pretty, especially
the earlier part which ran along the banks of the Hudson.
We stopped at Rome, Syracuse, and Utica amongst other
places, all busy, stirring places apparently, with their
streets all converging on and open to the line of rail.
Every one has to look out for themselves, and you get in
and out of the trains at your own peril. I have heard of
very few accidents, and I don't believe there are as many
as with us ; but I should think a good many people must
often be left behind, as the train starts without any signal,
leaving you to climb in as you can, an easy enough feat
for an active man, but scarcely for any one else. This
journey was our first really long one ; we did not get to
Suspension Bridge, where we slept, till past midnight, but
I didn't find it very tiring. There was a drawing-room
car on, but I would not go in it. The other cars are quite
comfortable enough, and I like seeing and being with the
people, though they continue to be the most silent and
reserved of any race I have ever been amongst. Next
day (Saturday) just glanced at the Falls ; we ran round the
west of Lake Ontario, by Hamilton, to Toronto, the capital
of the province, and were exceedingly struck and pleased
with the signs of vigour and prosperity both in the country
Vacation Rambles 149
and cities. The farming is certainly cleaner and better
than on the American side of the lake, and the towns
don't lose by comparison with those of the same size over
the border. At Toronto I found Dymond, one of my best
Lambeth supporters, in the Globe Office, and we called on
one of our Peruvian accpxaintances, who regaled us with
champagne in his huge store ; we went over the law courts
and other public buildings, dined, and then on to the boat
to cross back to Niagara. It is about two hours' sail and
very pleasant. There were quite a number of young and
pretty girls on board going across for the trip, as you
might drive out in a carriage to any suburb. It seems
the regular afternoon amusement and lounge, and the
heads of families take season tickets which pass all their be-
longings. There were three Canadian M.P.'s also on board,
with whom I got a good deal of useful and pleasant chat ;
one of them (M.P. for Niagara) induced me to "drink" twice
in ginger-ale and brandy, and again in champagne, which
was the first instance of that pressingly convivial habit
supposed to be universal on this side that I have seen. I
am uncommonly glad it doesn't really prevail, as nothing
I detest more than this irregular kind of drinking. The
pick-me-up is decidedly one of the most loathsome inven-
tions of a decrepit civilisation. We got to our hotel here,
right opposite the Falls, by about six, saw them first before
tea and afterwards by moonlight, as I have already narrated.
In an hour's time we start for Chicago. Our late host, Mr.
, the President of the Illinois Central Eail, one of
the greatest of the Western's system of railways, has
followed us here, and is going round a tour of inspection
of his line, and to open 150 miles of new way for traffic.
80 we shall go round in an express train with him, seeing
everything in the most luxurious and easiest manner — a
wonderful piece of luck. It was his nice wife who per-
suaded him to come off and do it now at once while he
could have us with him. I am sitting at my open window,
outside of which is a broad verandah with a magnificent
view of the Falls. I am getting what I take to be my last
150 Vacation Rambles
look at them, and for the last time the sound of many-
waters, the finest to be heard in the world, I suppose,
is in my ears. The mid-Atlantic when the waves were
highest struck me more, but nothing else I have ever seen
in Switzerland or elsewhere comes near this. It is the
first great hotel we have been in, and not a bad
specimen I imagine. We get heaps of meals, and though
the cooking is not all one could wish, there is nothing to
hinder your living very well. We are waited on by some
fifteen or twenty real darkies — good, grinning, curly-pated
Sambos and Pompeys — so, of course, I am happy so far as
service goes. Seriously, though, they are much more
obliging and quite as intelligent as their white compeers
here and in the States.
Stokm Lake, \Zth September 1870.
One line from this odd little station, right in the middle
of the Iowa prairies, which slope away right out of sight
in every direction. It is the highest point between Fort
Dodge and Sioux City. Fifteen months ago there were
not three settlers' cabins on the whole 140 miles; now
they are dotted along every mile or so, sometimes turf
huts, sometimes wooden, with generally a group of bare-
footed, healthy children tumbling about the doors. We
are sitting in the little wooden post-office here, on the
walls of which hang maps of the splendid town which is
to be run up in the next three or four years, and notices
of a meeting of the citizens of Storm Lake to hear the
addresses of Captain Jackson Orr, the Republican candidate
for Congress of the district, and of Governor G , who
comes to support him. The whole place at present con-
sists of some ten or twelve wooden huts, with two more
ambitious buildings running up, one an hotel and the
other a big store. The settlers are a fine rough set of
fellows, but fidl of intelligence, and determined to make
their place the most important city in the State. It is a
most exquisite climate, with a lake four miles by two, in
Vacation Rambles 1 5 1
which there are plenty of pickerel, and as we came along
in our express train we have put up lots of coveys of
prairie hens, like hig tame grouse, most delicious eating
too. Express train, you will look at with wondering eyes.
Well, or rather waal, as they pronounce it here, that is
the explanation of the whole city, and accounts for all that
is going to happen on this glorious prairie. A line of rail
has been built right across it by some enterprising folk in
New York, who want now to lease it to the Illinois
Central Eailway, with which it makes connections at Fort
Dodge. We left Chicago yesterday morning, got to
Dubuque on the Mississippi by night, travelled all through
the night to Fort Dodge, and are on here now fifty-three
miles farther inspecting. It is regal travelling. We have
two carriages, — one a charming sleeping-car, in which I have
a beautiful little state-room, another carriage for dining,
etc., equally commodious, all our stores on board, so that
we live splendidly, two negro boys to wait on us. ,
the present president, and the vice-president of the line, are
our only fellow-passengers, each of whom is as well lodged
as I am. We go along as we please, sometimes at forty,
sometimes at ten miles an hour, talking to the people at
each little log-house station, and enjoying the confines of
civilisation in the most perfect luxury. While they are
talking about the price of land round here I have just this
ten minutes, and find I can fire oft' this note with some
chance that it may get off by the New York boat of Satur-
day, so that I shan't lose a post or you a letter.
Fort Dodge, 13lh Scytcmhcr 1870.
Here we are! September 15, 2 P.M. You will see, if
you have got my last from Sioux City, that the above
heading is somewhat wild. The fact is, that just as I had
written the three first words (in fact, while I was writing
them, which accounts for their jerky look), our little train
moved on from Fort Dodge and I couldn't write, even on
our superb springs. Now we are at Council Bluffs,
152
Vacation Rambles
opposite Omaha. Why, hang it ! here we go again moving
on, and I must stop again.
3 P.M. — -We only ran three miles and then stopped to
lunch and let a Union -Pacific train pass. Now after
a famous lunch in our second or commissariat car, I am
getting a smoke and a few more lines to you before we
are off eastward again. Thank Heaven ! after all the won-
derful new sights and sensations of the last three and a
half days since we left Niagara, I confess to the utmost
delight at feeling that we have made our farthest point,
and that I am already some three miles plus the breadth
of the Missouri Eiver and Omaha City on my way back to
you. It is still more than a month before we embark for
home (if I can hold out as long) ; still, we are on our way !
However, you must not think that I am not enjoying my-
self wonderfully. I am, and am also, I hope, good company,
for when one is treated like the Grand Turk or the Emperor
of Russia, the least one can do is to be pleasant. But if I
go on with my sensations, I shall never pick up my narra-
tive ; as it is, I shall be obliged to leave thousands of things
till we meet, when I do hope I shan't have forgotten any-
thing. Well, didn't I leave off at Niagara ? We left the
hotel in front of the Falls there on Monday morning after
breakfast with 0— — , who had no power except for him-
self till we got to Chicago ; we had been furnished with
free passes, and rode in the ordinary cars through Ontario
province to Windsor, opposite Detroit. In Canada, again,
the difference was at once visible between the two peoples ;
but I am not at all prepared to admit that the Canadians
have the worst of it, certainly not in the roadside cookery,
for we had the best joint of beef we have seen since we
left home at dinner, and the best bread and butter at tea.
At Windsor the train ran quietly on to the huge ferry-boat-
steamer, and we had a moonlight passage to the railway
station at Detroit. Here we secured berths in the Pull-
man sleeping car, for which you pay rather more than
you would for a bed at a first-class hotel. However, they
are an admirable institution, and enable one to get through
Vacation Rambles 153
really wonderful travelling feats. AVe were at Chicago
early next morning, and transferred ourselves directly into
our small express train, getting glimpses of the city of
forty years, which within living men's memory was a small
Indian station.
It is enormous, spreading over certainly three times the
space which an English city of 250,000 inhabitants would
occupy. We shall see the town on our return ; meantime,
as we ran out of the suburbs, we saw a house of consider-
able size waiting at the crossing for our train to pass before
it went over, as coolly as a farmer's waggon of hay would
wait in England. told us that all the old houses
in Chicago are moved in this way. As building is very
expensive, when one of the big folk wants to put up some
splendid new structure — bank, store, or the like — there are
always men ready to buy the old house as it stands. They
then just cut away its foundation, put it on rollers, and
tote it away to the site they have bought in the suburbs.
AVe fell upon breakfast in a half-famished state as we
steamed away westward, and through the whole day were
kept on the stretch. Not that there was any great beauty
in the scenery, but the interest of getting actually into
half-settled country was exceedingly absorbing. The most
notable town we passed was Galena, in Northern Illinois,
from which Grant went to the war, leaving his leather yard
for that purpose. The citizens of Galena have bought and
presented him a good square house of red brick on the top
of the hill there. Then we ran along a tributary of the
Mississippi, and about 4.30 came out on the father of waters;
where we struck the mighty stream it was not impressive.
We came upon a mighty swamp, not a river, miles and
miles of trees, some of them fine large ones, standing in
the water and covered with creepers. The river was
luckily high, so that we had this effect of a forest rising out
of water to perfection. Then there were miles of swamp,
half water, half land, dreary and horrible to look at, some-
times sound enough for cattle to pick about, and then only
fit for alligators and wild-fowl ; of the latter Ave saw a
154 Vacation Rambles
number, including a white heron. At last we came upon
the river, some three-quarters of a mile wide up there,
1G00 miles from the sea, and crossed by a gossamer bridge,
a real work of high art. On the opposite side we stopped
for tea-dinner at Dubuque, one of the largest towns in
Iowa, and the first border city we had seen, — very quaint
to behold, with streets laid out as broad as Kegent Street,
here and there a huge block of stores full of dry goods or
groceries, and then a lot of wooden hovels, a vacant plot
perhaps, and then a big hotel, or another great store, — the
streets all as soft as Rotten Row, and much deeper in dirt,
side pavements of wood, every house placarded in huge
letters with the name and business of the owner. Here,
for the first time, we saw emigrants' waggons packed with
their household goods and lumber (sawed planks) for their
houses, bound for the prairies beyond, on which they settle
under the homestead acts. In short, the pushing slipshod
character of the great West was thoroughly mirrored in the
place, and above all the other buildings was a fine common
school open to every child in the place. This is the one
universal characteristic of these towns and villages ; almost
the first thing they do is to build a famous big school.
The member of Congress for the place and one or two
other notables came down to see us after tea, and smoked
a cigar with us in our saloon car before we started. The
talk was, of course, on the wonders of the West, and the
chances of Dubuque to be a big city in a year or two.
Then we turned in and ran all night to Fort Dodge, from
which the first line of this letter was written, a village with
the same characteristics as the towns, except that the only
building not of wood was the station, which, strange to
say, was built of gypsum, found in great quantities here,
and the only sort of stone they have. The president of
the line — a shrewd, honest, Western man named Douglas,
one of our party — guessed that in another five years the}^
would have to pull the station down and manure the land
with it. From this place we ran right up into the wild
prairies, and at the highest point between the Mississippi
Vacation Rambles 155
and Missouri, at Storm Lake, I wrote you the hasty note
which, I hope, you have received from those unknown parts.
It is about the largest settlement in the 180 miles, con-
sisting of perhaps twelve or fourteen wooden houses, one
of which was a billiard saloon kept by an old Cornish man.
He said that quite a number of Cornish miners are over
in this district, some at lead and coal mines of a very
primitive kind, others farming. On the whole, the people
seemed a good, steady, independent lot, and the children
looked wonderfully healthy, running about barefooted on
the shore of the little lake or amongst the prairie grass.
We made acquaintance with prairie chicken and the little
earth squirrel, a jolly little dog, with a prettily marked
back, who frisks into his hole instead of up a tree like ours.
Then we dropped down, still through wild prairie, over
which the single line of rail runs with no protection at all,
till we came to Sioux City on the Missouri, and the biggest
town on the river for 2000 miles from its source. There
are 12,000 inhabitants, and precisely the same features as
at Dubuque, except that it is a far more rowdy place, being
still almost under the dominion of Judge Lynch. Only
the day before we arrived, a border ruffian had been
swaggering about the town, pistol in hand, and defying
arrest. However, they did take him at last, and he was
safe in prison. A fortnight earlier a rascal, who confessed
to nine murders, had been taken and hung on the other
side of the river. There are sixty-three saloons, at most
of which gambling goes on regularly every night. The
editor of the Sioux Tribune, an Irish Yankee of queer morals
and extraordinary "go," took us into one, stood drinks
round, and expounded the ingenious games by which the
settlers and officers of the Indian fort up the stream are
cleared of their money. A rowdy, loafing, vagabond city,
but there they have three or four fine schools (one had just
cost 45,000 dollars), for which they tax the saloons merci-
lessly. I have no doubt the place will be quite respectable
in another five years. We slept quietly and dropped down
south along the Missouri to Council Bluffs, from which the
156 Vacation Rambles'
earlier part of this was written. The Missouri is a doleful
stream, shallow, with huge sandbanks in the middle, and
great swamps at the side, but striking green bluff's rising-
above on the east bank under which we went ; and behind
them I saw the sun rise in great beauty. We just crossed
the river to Omaha to say we had been in Missouri and
seen the terminus of the Union - Pacific Railway, and
a fine go-ahead place it is, like Dubuque, only twice as
big and finely situate on hills above the Missouri River.
We are now back at Chicago, having seen more frontier
towns and prairies on our way here, and in five days, by
the good fortune of this private train, have done more than
we could have managed otherwise in nine.
Chicago, 19th September 1870.
I am so afraid that I shan't get off a letter regularly twice
a week from this run in the West, that I begin this in a
spare three minutes between packing and a testimonial
which is to be given me here by a lot of young graduates
of the American Universities at the Club at four o'clock.
This place is the wonder of the wonderful West, as you
know already. A gentleman I met to-day tells me he
came up to this place in 1830, when it consisted of a fort
with two companies, a dozen little wooden huts, and an
encampment of 3000 or 4000 Indians who had come in to
get their allowances under treaty with the United States.
Now it is one of the handsomest cities I ever saw, with
300,000 inhabitants, and progressing at the rate of 1500 a
week or thereabouts. We have had our first experience
of a first-rate American hotel, the Tremont House here.
It is decidedly not cheap. At present rates about fifteen
shillings or four dollars a day ; but you can eat and drink
anything but wine and spirits all day, with the exception
of one hour in the afternoon between lunch and dinner.
I ordered a peach just now for lunch, and they brought
me a whole plateful, not so good as our hot-house ones,
but very fine fruit. Yesterday I went twice to hear Robert
Vacation Rambles 157
Collyer, ;i famous Unitarian minister here. He was born in
Yorkshire, where he worked as a blacksmith, preaching as a
Methodist, and finally, twenty years ago, came out to the
West and established himself here. He has great and de-
served influence, and is altogether the finest man of the kind
I have ever met. His text was out of Job : " Dost thou
know the springs of the deep ? " I forget the exact
words, but you will find them in the splendid 38th
chapter, where God is showing Job who is master (as the
cabman put it). He had been for his holiday at the sea,
and was full of thoughts which, as he said, he wanted to
get off to his people. He began by a quotation from
Ruskin as to the fantastic power and beauty of the
sea,. said that no trace of love for the sea could be found
in the Bible, only fear of it. In the New Jerusalem, St.
John dreamed " there shall be no more sea." Same with
all great poets, even English, illustrated by Burns and
Shakespere, and Dr. Johnson's saying, " That a ship was a
prison with a chance of being drowned." Even sailors don't
really look on sea as home, and fear it, and weave mystical
notions of all kinds round it. Yet the sea has its sweet
and gentle side too ; it nourishes every plant and flower
that grows by its exhalations, and keeps the rivers sweet
and running ; and look at one of the exquisite little shells
which you may find after the fiercest storm, or the bit of
sea-weed lying on the shore, or the limpet on the rock.
The lashing of the storm has done them no harm, and
there they lie as perfect as if it had never been raging
about them. So the great stormy sea of life has its gentle
and loving side for every one of us so long as we trust in
God and just obey His laws and do His will. I have given
you the very barest outline of a very striking sermon.
In the evening I went to tea with him, and there was a
large bunch of grapes on my plate with the enclosed
little paper, " To Mr. Hughes from the children," which
touched me much. The children are very nice, liobert
Lincoln, Abe's son, and a lot of his friends are our enter-
tainers to-day, and in the evening we go by the night
158 Vacation Rambles
train to St. Louis. I laid aside the other sheet to go off
to this club dinner with the young Chicago men, and I
have never had a more hearty greeting or kinder words
and looks than amongst these youngsters, all graduates of
some university, most of them officers in the late war,
who are settled down in the great money-making town,
and are living brave and sterling and earnest lives there.
I really can't tell you the sort of things they said (they
drank your health, and the proposer made one of the
prettiest little speeches in proposing it I ever heard) ; in
short, I was positively ashamed, and scarcely knew how to
meet it all or what to say to them ; but it was less em-
barrassing than it would have been with any other young
men, for this kind of young American (like Holmes) is so
transparently sincere that you can come out quite square
with him before you have known him an hour. Our good
friends of the Illinois Central gave us free passage to St.
Louis, to which we travelled all night. It is the biggest
town in Missouri, was a great slave-holding place in 1860,
and very " secesh " during the war. A fine city it is too,
with its grand quay lined with huge steamers, and its
miles of fine streets. Rowdy though, still, full of low
saloons and gambling-houses. The most drunken town
in the L T nited States, the gentleman who met us, and
drove us about and got us free papers here to Cincinnati,
told us. The most characteristic thing that happened to
me was that I was shaved by a negro (and better shaved
than I ever was in my life before). He had been body
servant to his master, a rich Southern planter, through the
first three years of the war. His master was at last shot
and he managed to get taken, and so " I'se no slave now,"
as he said, with all his ivories shining. His education
has not been much improved, however, for he thought
England was at war, as being somehow part either of
France or Germany, he couldn't just say which, and
would scarcely believe me when I declared that we were
separated by the sea from both. Then we travelled all
night again (I sleep splendidly in these palace cars, so
Vacation Rambles l 59
j
don't be alarmed), and got here to the queen city of Ohio
this morning, after the most glorious sunrise I ever saw.
This also is a very fine city on the Ohio, with fine hills all
round and a magnificent suspension bridge. The most
characteristic sight I have seen here, however, was two
small boys trotting along together barefooted, with a
piece of sugar-cane between them, each sucking one end.
I had a note to Force, one of Sherman's generals, now a
judge here, who kindly sent us round in a carriage, but
was too busy to come with us. To-night we make another
long run to Philadelphia. We should have gone to
Washington and so worked north, but Philadelphia is the
next place where I shall get letters, and I can't do any
longer without hearing from you, so that's all about it.
I have lots of friends in Philadelphia, so shall probably
make two days' stay there.
Continental Hotel, Philadelphia,
23rd September 1870.
Where was I in my narrative ? I guess (I am getting a
thorough Yankee in my vernacular) I gave you a short
account of the queen city, as they call Cincinnati. We
left Cincinnati at ten o'clock on Wednesday night and
came right away for 600 miles to Philadelphia.
The most interesting part of the road was the crossing
the Alleghanies, up which we wound through vast forest
tracks for some thirty miles, and down the eastern slopes
in the sunset, getting daylight for all the most beautiful
parts. As we were rushing up one of the finest gorges,
some 200 yards wide, we were suddenly aware of a huge
eagle (bigger than those we saw on the Danube as we
steamed through the Iron Gates) sailing up on the opposite
side, perhaps 100 yards from the train. We were going
eighty miles an hour at the least, and the grand old fellow
swept along without the least apparent effort, keeping
abreast of our car for I should think a couple of miles,
when he suddenly turned and settled on a fine pine-tree.
160 Vacation Rambles
After breakfast we had a real field-day in this splendid
city, which rivals Boston in interest and character. Out-
side it is built of red brick and white marble, the contrast
of which materials is to me singularly taking, though I
daresay it is very bad art.
Then the chief streets run away long and straight, and
as you look down them all seem to dive into groups of
trees. Walnut Street, Chestnut Street, and Spruce Street
are the names of the oldest and handsomest avenues. Our
friend Field, the banker, was all ready for us, and a dozen
new friends, including General Meade, the first Federal
general who won the battle in the East, and a charming,
tall, handsome, grizzled, gentlemanly soldier. We went
over the old State House, a pre-revolutionary building,
from the top of which there is a splendid view of the town,
with the two rivers, the Delaware and Schuylkill, on which
it stands. There is the hall in which the Declaration of
Independence was signed, and the chair in which Hancock
sat, and the table on which it lay for signature. The
square is charming, with its old trees and turf, just as it
has always stood, and I am happy to say the Pennsylvanians
are very proud of the old place, won't allow it to be
touched, and are likely to keep it there till it burns, as I
suppose the State House, with all the old-fashioned timbers
in wall and roof, will some day. Then we went to the
great Normal School for girls here, five hundred strong,
the daughters of all sorts of folk, from physicians and
lawyers to labourers. I was exceedingly interested and
instructed in many classes, especially in the history class.
The handsome, self-possessed young woman who was
teaching was just beginning the Kevolutionary War as we
came in, and "felt like" changing the subject as she said,
but I begged her to go on, and heard the old story from
Lexington down to Cornwallis's surrender without turning
a hair. After classes, at two, the whole school was
gathered for Scripture reading and singing a hymn.
After the hymn, in compliment to us, they began
" God save the Queen " ; Kawlins and I got up by a sort
Vacation Rambles 161
of instinct, and to my immense amusement up got the
whole company. Then I was asked to say a few words ;
and talked about the grand education they were getting,
referred to the history class and told them no Englishman
worth the name now regretted the end of the struggle
one hundred years old, but only that any of the bitterness
should still be left ; spoke of the grand country which has
been entrusted to them to be filled with the poor of the
whole world, told them that we had a woman's rights
movement at home as well as they, which I hoped would
not fall into any great absurdities, but there were two
rights they would always insist on — the right of every girl
in the States to such an education as they were getting,
and their own right (they are all being educated as
teachers) to go and give this education to those who want
it most in West and South. Then the girls all filed out
to march music, played by a senior girl, winding in and
out of the rows of benches on which they had sat, and so
away downstairs and to all parts of the town, the prettiest
sight you can imagine. The girls are at the most awk-
ward age, and, of course, many of them plain, but alto-
gether as comely as the same sort would be with us, and
not a sign of poverty amongst them, though many were
quite plainly dressed. My democratic soul rejoiced at the
sight as you may fancy. What a chance for straining the
nonsense out of a girl if she has any ! We adjourned
from the great training-school for girls to the Guard
College for orphan boys, founded by a queer old French
Voltairian citizen of Philadelphia, who died some forty
years ago and left property worth half a million of our
money to found this college, with the express proviso that
no parson of any denomination was ever to be admitted
within the walls. I am happy to say, however, that, not-
withstanding this provision, which is observed to the
letter, the Bible is read and every day's instruction is
begun and ended by a religious service. This, by the way,
is the case almost everywhere in the States. Notwith-
standing all the assertions to the contrary, I have found
M
1 62 Vacation Rambles
only one place in which the education is purely secular.
This was Cincinnati, where the result is obtained by a
combination of the Roman Catholics with the German
town population. Well, this college, as it is called, is
simply a vast boys' home, just like our own, except that
the boys live in a most superb white marble building,
copied from the Parthenon. The classes were being taught,
and kept in right good order by women, who indeed almost
monopolise teaching in this State, and they are in the pro-
portion of more than ten to one. The fault of Girard
College is that it is not wanted ; the public school system
which has grown up since its foundation being open to
every one, and offering at least as good an education. If
its funds could have been used to support the boys while
at the public schools it would have been better. The
whole arrangements are decidedly more luxurious than those
at Rugby in my time, and they have not yet established
workshops. After our round of institutions we were
entertained at the Union League Club. The dinner was
good and the company better, Mr. MacMichael, the mayor,
who had been the chief mover in establishing the club in
the dark days of 1861, presided, with General Meade, who
commanded at Gettysburg on his left and me on his right.
Dear old Field, the most furious and impulsive of Repub-
licans, and the most ardent lover and abuser of England
and Englishmen, vice-president, and the rest of the com-
pany, staff-officers in the war or marked men in some other
way. The club had sent eleven regiments to the war at
its own expense, and had exercised immense influence on
the Union at the most critical time. At last I was fairly
cornered ; I had often before had to defend our position in
sharp skirmishes, but now, for the first time, was in for a
general engagement. Well, I just threw away all defensive
arms, and attacked them at once. " You say we were led
by our aristocracy, who were savagely hostile to you ; I
admit they were hostile, though with many notable
exceptions, such as the Duke of Argyll, Lord Carlisle,
Howards and Cavendishes ; but what did you expect 1 I
Vacation Rambles 163
have taken in three or four American papers for years,
and in your debates in Congress, in your newspapers, in
every utterance of your public men, I have never heard or
read anything but savage abuse of our aristocracy. They
don't reply to your insults, but they don't forget them, so
when you got into such hard lines they went in heartily
for your enemies. Well, you say the South were England's
real enemies for the last forty years. True, but aristocracy
did not care for that, democracy was represented by you,
and that was what they went against." There was an
outcry : " Why, here's a pretty business, we thought you
were a Democrat." " So I am, in our English sense, but
I am before all things an Englishman. I have nothing to
do with our aristocracy (except knowing a few of them),
and I fought as hard against them in England through the
war as you did against the rebels ; but I am not going to
allow you to separate them from the nation, or to suppose
that they can be punished except through the nation."
" Well, but what do you say for all your great commercial
world — bankers, merchants, manufacturers, our corre-
spondents, look how they turned on us ! "
" It's no part of my business to defend them; they were
mean, I allow, but their business was, as they supposed,
and as all of you agree, to make money ; besides, after all,
who fought your battle better than Cobden, Bright, Forster,
and such men as Kirkman-Hodson, and Tom Baring?"
Then they fell back on the general position that our
Government was hostile to them, and I went through
what had really happened in Parliament, and made them
admit that if we had listened to Louis Napoleon, and the
blockade had been broken, it would have been a narrow
squeak for the Union. On the whole, I think, I made a
good deal of impression on most of them. General Meade
and the soldiers were on my side throughout, and admitted
at once that, after all the abuse their press heaped on our
governing classes, it was childish to cry out when they
proved that they knew of the abuse and didn't love the
abusers. We all parted the warmest friends, and I went
164 Vacation Rambles
off to tea at Mrs. W s', where we met Dr. Mitchell, a
scientific man, and his sister, and other very pleasant folk,
and heard many interesting stories of the war. The next
morning we started for Gettysburg. I had always made
a point with myself of seeing this one at any rate of the
great battlefields. It was the real turning-point of the
war, fought on the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd of July 1863, after
the series of defeats and failures under M'Clellan, Pope
Hooker, Burnside. I well remember what a long breath
we (the Abolitionists) drew in England when the news
came of Lee's defeat at the farthest point he had ever
made to the North, and felt sure, for the first time, that the
war would be put through, and slavery be abolished right
down to the Gulf of Mexico. We had the best escort
possible in the person of Rosengarten, who was aide-de-
camp to General Reynolds, commander of the corps which
came up first and sustained the whole weight of battle on
the first day. Field also " came along," and we had a first-
rate time on our journey over the Susquehanna bridge,
which the Northern militia burnt behind them as they
escaped from Lee's advance. Then we stopped for an hour
or two, waiting for a train at York, a nice shady quiet country
town of 11,000 inhabitants. The rebels had occupied the
place for three days and levied a matter of 80,000 dollars
on the people ; in all other respects they seem to have
behaved excellently and to have been well under command.
The old Episcopalian clergyman, a warm friend of England,
who had been Rosengarten's tutor, and to whom we paid
a visit, gave us a capital description of the three days'
occupation, and of the relief the York folk experienced
when the poor ragged rebels marched off for Gettysburg,
and left the town very little poorer than they had found
it. We didn't get to our inn, a huge wooden building on
the first day's battlefield, till after sunset. Tea over, we
came out on the wooden platform which runs all round
the house, and saw the most glorious sight I have ever
seen, I think, in the skies. Steaming up Memphremagog
we saw the aurora borealis splendidly, but that was
Vacation Rambles 165
nothing to this. In Canada there was no colour in the
pure Hashes of light which lit and pulsed over the whole
sky, but on Saturday the changes of colour were splendid,
and I should say for half an hour the heavens were throb-
bing with the most lovely rose-coloured streamers and
sheets and flashes. With my view of the importance to
the poor old world of the struggle which was descending
there, you can fancy that such an introduction to it was
welcome and impressive. Next day we devoted to the
battlefield : began at the beginning where, on Thursday the
1st July 1863, Rosengarten himself, as Reynolds's aide-de-
camp, had ridden forward and placed the first Federal
regiments which came on the ground in position between
the town of Gettysburg, which contains about 3000 in-
habitants and lies in a hollow, and the advancing rebels.
Gettysburg is at the junction of three roads and was a
point which both armies were bent on seizing. The
fight on this the north-east side of the town began early
on Thursday. Rosengarten, after carrying out his orders,
rode back, and was just in time to see his General fall
from his horse, shot through the neck by a sharpshooter,
and helped to carry him off the field. After many hours'
hard fighting the Federals were driven back through the
town with heavy loss. Our friend, General Barlow, who
commanded a brigade, was also badly wounded. Luckily,
during the day two more corps of the army of the Potomac
had come up and been placed in position on a hill just to
the south of the town, on part of which the cemetery now
stands, which was made immortal by Lincoln's glorious
speech at the inauguration. Behind these fresh troops
the broken 1st and 11th corps rallied and prepared for
the next day. Reinforcements came up to Lee also, and
in the town the shopkeepers and other inhabitants heard
them making certain of an easy victory in the morning.
Meade is evidently a man who gains and holds the confidence
of his troops ; but as he was slightly outnumbered, and the
rebels had the prestige of the first day's victory, I take it he
must have been beaten but for the splendid position he
1 66 Vacation Rambles
had selected. His troops lay along two lines of hills,
covered in many places with wood which sloped away
from the point overlooking the town, leaving a space
between them secure from fire, in which he could move
his troops without being seen, while every move of Lee's
was open to him. The Confederates began attacks early
and kept them up throughout the day, but could not
force the position except at one point, where, after dark,
they succeeded in making a lodgment and spent the night
within Meade's lines. In the morning they were driven
out after a desperate struggle, and later in the day Lee
made a determined attempt with Longstreet's corps to break
the line again. He lost three generals and about 4000
men in the great effort, and when it failed, and he had to
fall back to his own lines, the back of the Rebellion was
broken and the doom of slavery sealed for ever in North
America. At night he went away south, leaving most of
his wounded, but Meade was too much exhausted to do
more than follow slowly. I am writing in hot haste to
catch the post, so can give you no clear idea, I fear, of the
great day. The hotel was a nice, clean, reasonable place,
with a landlord and servants really civil, and we enjoyed
our excursion more than I can tell you.
Next day we came on to Baltimore, drove as usual in
the beautiful park and about the town in a carriage sent for
us by some patriotic citizen, dined at the Union Club, to
which they gave us the entrde, and came on to Washington.
Washington, Friday.
You ask whether I read our papers and the news from
Europe. No, except just so far as to keep abreast of the
bare facts. You know how I hate details of battlefields,
and that I have never got over my intense dislike to the
glowing and semi-scientific descriptions of "our own
correspondents," sitting down in the midst of dying and
agonised men to do their penny or guinea a line. The
dry report of a general or staff officer, whose sad duty it
Vacation Rambles 167
is to be there, I follow with the deepest interest, and
recognise a battlefield as one of the very noblest places
from which a true man may make a " bee-line track " to
heaven. The noblest death in our times was Eobert
Shaw's at the attack on Fort Wagner, at the head of his
niggers, under whom he was buried ; but, for all that,
war and its details are a ghastly and horrible evil, which
the faith of our Master is going yet to root out of this
silly old world, and which none of His servants should
touch unless it is the clear path of supreme duty.
I pity the poor French, utterly unmanned as they
seem to be by this nineteen years of the rule of Mammon,
and heartily wish they could find their manhood again,
though I see no glimmer of it yet. Trochu seems a fine
fellow, and I can't help believing that many of my ac-
quaintance and the members of the Paris associations, will
be found ready to die like men on the walls of the city if
they get a chance. By the way, where is N- 1 I
wonder if he has gone back 1 If so, there is another
brave and true man in Paris, and perhaps ten may save
it. But I must be getting back to my journal or I shall
be dropping stitches. If I don't forget, my last brought
you with us to Willard's Hotel, Washington, a great
three-hundred-roomed hotel, mixed, if not of Southern
proclivities during the war, before the door of which
more than one duel was fought in those searching times.
At breakfast we found ourselves next the Wards, father
and son, G. B 's friends, to whom I had given some
letters. I found they had been even farther west than
we ; in fact, up to Denver City, in the bosom of the liocky
Mountains, and had also managed to get into four or
five Southern states ; but they had done it at the sacrifice
not only of comfort but of the chance of seeing the home-
life of the Americans, and I value the latter infinitely
higher than mere sight-seeing, so do not regret the least
that we didn't get through the extra 1500 miles, which
at the cost of five days' more travel would have let us
see the Rocky Mountains and shoot at buffaloes.
1 68 Vacation Rambles
We went after breakfast to leave some of my letters,
and over the White House, a fine residence of white
marble splendidly situated some one and a half miles
from the Capitol, with which it is connected by Pennsyl-
vania avenue, wider than Portland Place. I shall keep
the details till we meet ; the house is as big as the
Mansion House I should say, and not very unlike it.
Luckily, soon after we got outside we were recognised
(at least I was) in the street by Blackie, who was over in
England with the Harvard crew. He is in the attorney-
general's office, and consequently has the run of all the
public apartments, and he took us in hand and lionised us
splendidly. The Capitol Patent Office and Treasury I
shall bring you photographs of, and describe at leisure in
our winter evenings. The view from the top, over the
city and Maryland to the north, and across the Potomac
over Virginia to the south, is as fine as any I ever saw,
General Lee's house at Arlington Heights, now a national
cemetery, being the most conspicuous point in the
southern view. The thing that struck one most was the
staff of women, mostly young and many pretty, serving
in the Treasury. They say there are upwards of two
thousand, and that for counting, sorting, and repairing
the paper currency, they are far superior to men. They
earn one thousand dollars (or £200) a year on an average.
Fancy the boon to the orphan girls of soldiers and sailors.
One of the first we saw was the daughter of a very
distinguished Colonel of Marines, who had left her quite
destitute, as ladylike, pretty -looking a girl as j^ou ever
saw, and she was running over bundles of dollar notes
with her fingers as fast as if she were playing the overture
to Semiramide with you on the piano. It nearly took
my breath away, and yet I was assured she never made
an error in counting. I wish we could get off a lot of
our poor girls in some such way in Somerset House, and
send a lob of our Government clerks to till the ground or
hammer or do some hard, productive work.
Perhaps, however, the pleasantest part of the day was
Vacation Rambles 169
the end, when he took us off on the street-cars down to
the Potomac, where we found a boating club, with their
boat-house, etc'., just like an Oxford or Cambridge College.
There were eight or ten of them down there who received
us with open arms, and in a few minutes manned a heavy
eight-oared boat with room enough for me and R to
sit in the stern, and away we went up under the long
bridge, over which the armies used to cross in the war
time, and saw a glorious sunset on the river, with the
stars and stripes floating proudly over our stern. I
enjoyed the row vastly and liked the men, who are just
training for a race with the Potomac club. Boating
flourishes all over the states I have been in, and they
have learnt a lesson from their defeat two years ago and
pull now in just as good style as our boys. Oxford and
Cambridge must mind their hits, for they will have a
tough job of it the next time they have to meet a crew
from this side.
Next morning I called on our minister after breakfast,
having heard by chance that he was in town. I am very
glad I did, as I had the pleasure of hearing him praise
C , his ability, willingness, and capacity for work, in
a strain which would have rejoiced the heart of poor, dear
R. F— — and of the F family. He seems to
think C will come back here, and desires it most
earnestly. I got from him Lord Clarendon's last despatch
on the Alabama claims, which will be most useful to me
in my stump in the Boston Music Hall on the 11th. It
is the room and the course in which Wendell Phillips,
Emerson, and all the orators and philosophers figure. 1
have taken for my subject, "John to Jonathan," suggested
by Lowell's famous "Jonathan to John." They won't
get any eloquence or oratory out of me, as you know ; but
I am sure I can say some things in a plain, straight-
forward way which will do good and help to heal wounded
pride and other sorely irritating places in the over-sensi-
tive, but simple and gallant Yankee mind. They have
treated me so like a spoilt child from Boston to Omaha
170 Vacation Rambles
and back, that I know they will let me say anything and
will listen to it affectionately. I really love them too
well to say anything that will really hurt them, and
when they see that this kind of feeling and appreciation
is genuine, the more thorough John Bull you are the
better they like it ; that is, all the best of them, who rule
the nation in the long run though not directly. When I
got back from our embassy, it was just time to be start-
ing for the train to Philadelphia, and lo ! there were a
dozen folk, from secretaries of state downwards, waiting
to offer lodgings, dinners, excursions, lecturings, every
sort of kindness in creation. It was hard work to get
off, but I managed somehow to make tracks, suppressing,
I fear, the fact that I was not likely to get to Washington
again. The journey to Philadelphia is very interesting
along the coast, though seldom within sight of the sea,
but crossing huge inlets and rivers (the abode of canvas-
backs) on spider bridges. We didn't change cars at
Baltimore, but were dropped by our engine in the out-
skirts of the town. Six fine horses in a string were
then hitched on to each long car, and away we went
through the crowded streets along the tramway rails, our
driver, or rather, conductor, for he had no reins, blowing
his horn loudly to warn all good people, and shouting to
the train of horses who trotted along by instinct between
the rails. How we missed fifty collisions I can't conceive ;
at last we had one — crash into a confusion of carts and
drays, driven by shouting negroes who had got them all
into a hopeless jam as we bore down on them. Bang we
went into the nearest ; I saw the comical, scared look of
the grisly old Sambo who was driving, as he was shot
from his seat, but no harm was done except knocking off
our own step, and as we shot past I saw his face light up
into a broad grin as he sat on the bottom of his cart.
We had cleared him right away from his dead-lock with
two other vehicles, and he went on his way delighted.
At Philadelphia we found our kindest of hosts, Field,
waiting supper for us in his delightful house, where he is
Vacation Rambles 1 7 1
living for a few days' business as a bachelor. Quiet
evening, with talk till eleven o'clock on all manner of
places, people, and things, mostly English. Lippincott, the
great American publisher, and Rosengarten to breakfast,
then a visit from Morrison's friend Welsh, reproachful
that we had not occupied his house, and full of interesting
stories of the Indian commission, of which he is the
moving spirit. Then more schools, workmen's houses,
etc., with Rosengarten, and a drive in the park, five miles
long on both sides of the river Schuylkill (as broad as the
Thames at Putney), and with views combining Richmond
Hill and Oxford. The Central Park is nothing to it, or
any other I ever saw or heard of. The Quaker city of
white marble and red brick fascinated me more and more.
A most interesting dinner at Dr. Mitchell's, a scientific
man — talk of the war, prairie stories, Yankee stories,
wonderful old Madeira and excellent cigars. This morn-
ing, after seeing Lippincott's store, and a most interesting
talk with Sheridan's adjutant-general on the last cam-
paigns (he came to breakfast), we literally tore ourselves
away from Philadelphia and came on here to this splendid,
great, empty house, to be received most hospitably by
Maria, the big, handsome, good-natured Irishwoman in
charge.
Everything is getting so crowded with me that I have
hardly time to turn round. All sorts of kind friends
urging me to stop just for one day here or there, a few
hundred miles making no difference with them, hundreds
(almost) of applications for lectures or addresses, and (he
engagements already made driving me nearly wild to
know how I am to get through with them. I shall never
get my journal straight. AVhere was 1 1 With dear old
Peter Cooper, the simplest, most utterly guileless of old
men who ever made a big fortune in this world or any
other, I should think. That I remember, but can't the
least get further. Nothing, however, very particular
happened, except that I was again caught and had to
speak a few words to the Normal Training School of New
172 Vacation Rambles
York, consisting of nine hundred girls. I managed to get
out of going with the beautiful Miss P to her school,
but thought I should be safe in going with the dear old
gentleman to the Normal School to be present at the
morning service. We were of course on the dais, and Mr.
Cooper, after the singing of a hymn, read a chapter of
the Bible, then another hymn, and then, instead of the
adjournment to their classes at once, as 1 had exj^ected, I
was called upon. You must imagine what I said, for I
really don't remember. Then I was photographed alone,
and with Mr. Cooper. I enclose a proof of the latter
which, I hope, will not quite fade on the way. They tell
me the prints will be very good, and I hope to have several
to bring home. We left on Wednesday by the after-
noon boat to Fall River, the finest boat in the States, the
great cabin of which I shall bring you a photograph, all
the family grouped round the door breaking one down
with their kindness. I slept as usual famously on board
the Bristol, and waked at Fall River about three, and so
on by rail to Boston, and by car up here, where I feel
quite at home. Miss Mabel appeared at breakfast, and
produced her photographs made at the time of our last
visit with great triumph. They are excellent, and I shall
bring you lots of them. At eleven was the Harvard
memorial ceremony on the laying of the corner-stone of
the hall they are building in honour of the members who
died in the war. I walked in with Mr A- and heard
a good account of his wife and family. They want me to
go out there for a quiet day or two, but, I fear, it is quite
impossible. Two of his sons, the Colonel, and our friend
Henry, who is just named as one of the lecturers, were
there also, and Emerson, Dana, and a number of old and
new friends. The ceremony was very simple, Luther's
hymn, a short extempore prayer, a report, and two
addresses, and the benediction, and then we just broke up
and left the great tent as we pleased. The point of
greatest interest was, of course, the gathering of some
seventy or eighty of those who had been in the army,
Vacation Rambles i 7 3
almost all in their old uniforms, and many of them carry-
ing the marks of war about them too plainly. Colonel
Holmes amongst them as nice as ever, and young F
and General M — — , with half a dozen other generals.
Lunch afterwards at a very quaint and attractive little
club founded in 1792, and recruited by a few of the best
fellows in each year, like the Apostles at our Cambridge.
Longfellow and our friend Field came to dine here, and
the poet was fascinating, full of his English doings, and
genial and modest as a big man should be. To-day I
have been preparing for my lecture, "John to Jonathan,"
which comes oft" next Tuesday, as to which I am consider-
ably anxious, as it is exceedingly difficult to get a line
which will have the healing effect I intend. Let us hope
for the best. I go for Sunday to Lowell's brother's school,
twenty miles away. On Monday evening I meet the
Harvard undergraduates, and on Wednesday spend the
day with Emerson at Concord. On Thursday I hope to
get away, but where 1 All our plans are changing. "We
now propose, if it can be so arranged, to go first to
Montreal for two or three days to pick up our things,
returning to Ithaca to Goldwin Smith for a long day
about the 1 8th, and so to New York, from which we should
sail about the 22nd. You will, I daresay, be glad that we
don't go from Quebec ; but I don't believe there is the
least more danger at this time of year by this route than
any other. All I have resolved on is, that nothing shall
keep me beyond my time.
St. Mark's School, Southborougii, Mass.,
Tucxdini, 9th OrtubiT.
We have had a very charming visit to this little village,
twenty miles from Boston, in which is established a Church
of England boarding-school, modelled as nearly as possible
on our public school system, and intended to do for
American boys precisely what Eton, Rugby, etc., do for
ours. I am not sure that such schools are wanted here.
174 Vacation Rambles
Were I living here I should certainly try the public
schools first for my boys. But they say that the teach-
ing there is too forcing in the earlier stages, and after-
wards not liberal enough in the direction of " the
humanities," so that the boys "get trained more into com-
petitive money-making machines than into thinking-
cultivated men. There is a very considerable demand
at any rate for this kind of school, as this is only one
of several in New England. There is an objection too
amongst New England mothers. I find that the high
schools (as I ought to call them, and not public schools)
being open to every one, a large class of Irish and other
recent arrivals go there whose manners and language
make them dangerous class-mates for their own children.
At any rate, St. Mark's school is a successful fact, and see-
ing how fast they go ahead here I shouldn't be astonished
to hear that in a few years it is as big as Rugby. Dr.
Lowell is the principal, and a first-rate one, a High Church
of England clergyman, not a ritualist. The school is
founded as a denominational one, with a little chancel,
which opens from the end of the big schoolroom, and in
which the doctor, in his robes, reads our prayers morning
and evening to the boys. He and his family live entirely
with the boys, taking all their meals in the hall, and there
is no fagging, the monitors having no power or responsi-
bility, except just to keep order in the schoolroom at
certain hours. They have a monthly reception of the
friends from the neighbourhood, which took place on
Saturday evening. All the boys were there, and handed
round ices, cakes, and tea to some thirty ladies and
gentlemen who came in, including several of the trustees,
a judge whom I had met in England, a neighbouring
squire (Boston merchant by profession), who is farming
largely down there, reclaiming the stony lands and getting
up a most beautiful herd of cattle. Of course I had to
" address a few words " to them, all which they took
most kindly. On Sunday we had two Church of England
services in the pretty parish church, a copy of one in
Vacation Rambles 175
England, the plans of which the Squire, Bartlett, had
brought over. We dined in the middle of the day at his
house, which would be a good squire's house at home.
The family were very nice — a sweet, pretty wife, a strap-
ping great eldest son now at Harvard, and good in all
ways. He is bent on going out West as soon as he is
through college, and, as a preparation, hired himself out
to a farmer this summer vacation, earned ten dollars a
week for some two months at hoeing and other hard
work, and then had a sporting run to Canada. Two more
big sons and any number of younger children. The house
was tastefully furnished with some really good pictures,
and altogether it was as nice a home as I have seen here.
On Monday we got back to dear Elmwood, and I went
hard at work on my lecture. Newspaper men came
buzzing about all day and seizing my MS. as I got
through with it. Also came up Julian H , one of the
Chartist prisoners of 1848. I had known him in the
socialist times, and I had always a respect and liking for
him, but he had quite slipped out of sight for some
eighteen years. His errand touched me. He reminded
me (which I had entirely forgotten) that he had applied
to Lord R in 1851 for a loan of £20 which had been
advanced to him through me. He told the long story of
his life since, full of interest ; I must keep it till we meet.
At last he landed in the Massachussets state house, where
he is a Government clerk, on a small salary for this
country, but out of it he has saved a few hundred dollars,
and the object of his visit was to say that he was now
anxious to pay his old debt with many hearty thanks to
Lord R — — . Would I settle whether he should pay for
interest, and he would go and draw it out and send it by
me 1 I said I couldn't say whether our friend would take
interest, or at what rate, but promised to let him know
when I got back, so that he can remit the exact amount
to London. Even he has never taken up his citizenship
here, but remains an Englishman, and means at any rate
to come back and die in the old country. In the evening
i 76 Vacation Rambles
we went down to a gathering of all the Harvard students
who had petitioned me to come and talk to them. They
were gathered some five hundred strong in the Massa-
chusetts Hall, and a finer and manlier set of boys I have
never seen. I talked to them on Muscular Christianity
and its proper limits, as they are likely to run into pro-
fessional athletics like our boys at home. Told them they
lived in a land which had " struck He " and was so overflow-
ing with wealth that every one was hasting to get rich too
quick. Exhorted to patience and thoroughness ; read to
them Lowell's " Hebe " (you remember the little gem of a
poem) ; told them they ought to take more part in public
affairs than their class usually do. All which they
swallowed devoutly, and cheered vehemently, like good
boys, and then sang a lot of their college songs : " March-
ing through Georgia " splendid, the rest much like our
own. The war has given a magnificent lift to all the
young men and boys of this country, and I think the rising
generation will put America in a very different place from
that which she holds now. Last night I gave my lecture
in the Music Hall, which was crammed, and the whole
affair a brilliant success. " John to Jonathan " is printed
verbatim in the morning newspapers, so you will probably
see it before I get back, and I think like it. No more
time for the moment.
Ithaca, N.Y., \Mi October 1870.
I missed the last mail through stress of work, chiefly
on my lecture, which I mentioned in my last. The
applications for lectures were so numerous and urgent
that I really felt that I ought not to leave the country
without giving one at any rate, and all my friends said
that the Music Hall at Boston was the place if I only
spoke once. It is the largest room in New England, holds
nearly three thousand people, is easy to speak in, though it
has great deep galleries running round three sides, and in
it all the big folk talk and lecture. Wendell Phillips and
Vacation Rambles i 7 7
Sumner follow me, so you see the class of thing at once.
Well, as I was in for it much against my will, I was
determined to talk out with the whole Yankee nation the
controversy which I had been carrying on already with
many of them in private. I was anxious not to leave
them with any false impressions, and to let them see clearly
that in our national differences I think that we have a
very good case, and that even if I didn't think so, I am too
good a John Bull not to stand by my own country.
Lowell agreed as to the title and object, but I think had
serious misgivings as to how the affair might turn out.
Mundella thought it very risky and so did most other
folk. However, as you know, I don't care a straw for
applause, and do care about speaking my own mind,
so whether it made me unpopular or not I determined to
have my say. In order that I might say nothing on the
spur of the moment, I wrote out the whole address care-
fully, and I am very glad I did, as the reporters all copied
from my MS., and consequently I was thoroughly well
reported. The Tribune and Boston Advertiser printed
it in full, and I will bring you home copies. I was
a little nervous myself when I got to the hall. Two
ex-Governors and the present Governor of the State were
on the platform, the two Senators (Sumner and Wilson),
Longfellow, Judge Hoare, Dana, Wendell Holmes, Wendell
Phillips, Lowell, and, in short, pretty nearly all the
Boston big wigs. The great organ played " God save the
Queen " as I came in, and the audience, generally, I am told,
a very undemonstrative one, cheered heartily. My nervous-
ness, however, wore off at once, when I got on my legs.
I found that my voice filled the hall easily, and so was at
my ease and got through just within the hour, without
once losing the attention of the audience for a minute.
They were indeed wonderfully sympathetic and hearty, and
gave me three rounds of cheers at the end, far more
warmly than at the beginning. Every one came and said
that it was a great success ; that they had never heard our
side fairly stated before; that this and that fact were quite
N
I yS Vacation Rambles
new to them, etc. In fact, if I didn't know how soon
the reaction comes in such cases, I should think I had
done some good work towards a better understanding
between the nations, and, as it is, I am sure I have done
no harm, and have at any rate made my own position
perfectly clear, and shown them that in the event of a
quarrel, they can't reckon upon me for any kind of
sympathy or aid. After the lecture whom should I meet
as I went out but Craft, the negro who had been the
cause of one of the most exciting meetings ever held in
that hall some twenty years before, when the attempt
was made to seize him and his wife in Boston. I was
delighted to see him and to hear a capital account of his
experiment at association in Georgia. Then I went to
Field's, the publisher, to supper, where were Longfellow,
Holmes, Dana, and others, and so home by the last car,
thankful that it was all well over. Next morning I got a
cheque for 250 dollars (<£50). I had, of course, never said
a word about any payment, so it was an agreeable surprise.
The post brought me I know not how many letters, beg-
ging me to lecture in a dozen states on my own terms, so
when all trades fail, I can come over here and earn a good
living easily enough, which is a consolation. Wednesday,
our last whole day with the dear Lowells, I spent peace-
ably. Went to his lecture in the University on Arthurian
legends ; Miss Mabel photographed the house and us in
groups, and we talked and loafed. In the evening a supper at
the house of one of the professors, to meet the whole staff,
and a pleasanter or abler set of men I have never come across.
Thursday, lunch with Longfellow after packing, then a run
down on the car to Boston, to change my cheque, to take
a berth on a packet, so as to be armed against any appeals
for another day or two in New York, and to get a last look
at the favourite points in the old Puritan capital, the place
where I should certainly settle if I ever had to leave England.
We drove a rather sad party to Mrs. Lowell's sister, and
the mother of the beautiful boy whose photograph we
have, and who was killed early in the war, to tea, and
Vacation Rambles 179
from her house went to the station and took sleeping-car
for Syracuse. I cannot tell you how I like Lowell and
all his belongings. It is a dangerous thing to make
acquaintance in the flesh with one with whose writings
one is so familiar, but he has quite come up to my idea of
him, and his wife and Miss Mabel are both very charming
in their own ways. I slept well, woke at Albany, break-
fasted, and then on to Syracuse, where Mr. Wansey,
Mrs. Hamilton's uncle, lives. We got there at two, and I
was immediately seized at the station by Wilkinson, the
local banker, whom I had just met at Ned's this summer.
He drove us all through and round the most characteristic
town in America. Great broad streets lined with lovely
maple trees, all turned now to clouds of scarlet and gold ;
down the principal one the railway runs without any
fence. Old Mr. Wansey and others came to dine, he a
dear old man of eighty, but hale and handsome, rather like
my clear old grandfather's picture, the rest pleasant country
folk. "We played billiards, and told stories after dinner,
and had a decidedly good time till nearly midnight. The
next morning we breakfasted with Mr. White, the President
of this new University, and came on here with him. He
is a young man of about thirty-five, and one of the finest
scholars America has to boast of at present. By the way,
he was a classmate of Smalley at Yale. He is a rich man,
and he has nothing whatever to gain by undertaking this
work. In short, he is quite worthy of having Goldwin
Smith as a fellow-worker, and between them, with the ex-
cellent staff of professors and teachers they have got
round them, I expect they will make this place in
a wondrous short time a great working-men's college.
Everything is of course rough at present, as the buildings
are still in progress, but two blocks are completed, and
there are about seven hundred pupils living in them and
in the town at the bottom of the hill on which Cornell
stands. It is a most magnificent situation, looking over a
large lake, forty miles long, and two splendid valleys,
which are now ablaze with the crimson and purple colours
i8o Vacation Rambles
of the maples, shumachs, American walnuts, and other
trees, which make the hillsides here glow all the later
autumn through. We found Goldwin Smith waiting for
us at the wharf and looking much stronger than he used
to do in England, and quite warm in his welcome. All
the professors, with their wives and families, if married,
live for the present in a huge square block of buildings
originally intended for a hydropathic establishment, in
which they have a private sitting-room and bedrooms and
dine and take all meals in the hall. You may fancy how
much I am interested in this great practical step towards
association.
New York, Tuesday.
Here I am in the great city again, to spend the last few
days before my start for home. The reception in the
great hall, speech, visit to lecture rooms, etc., enthusiasm
of boys, baseball games, and football given in my honour,
must all keep till we meet. For, alas ! I have no time to
spend here for writing, as I have another address to give
before I start, on Friday evening, and I must write it
carefully, as it is to be on the labour question, which is
mightily exercising our cousins here. They are getting
into the controversy which we are nearly through at home,
and if I can give them a little good advice before I come
away, I shall be very glad. As I am engaged every even-
ing, it will not be easy to find time to do it as I should
like, but I can give the morning, I think, and can at any
rate make sure of not talking nonsense.
AMERICA— 1880 to 1887
The Cumberland Mountains
East Tennessee, 1st September 1880.
Here I am at my goal, and so full of new impressions
that I must put some of them down at once, lest they
should slip away like the new kind of recruits, and I
should not be able to lay my hand on them again when I
want them. The above address is vague, as this range of
highlands extends for some 200 miles through this State
and Kentucky ; but, though fixed as fate myself, I can
for the moment put no more definite heading to my
letters. The name of the town that is to be, and which
is already laid out and in course of building here, is a
matter of profound interest to many persons, and not to
be decided hastily. The only point which seems clear is
that it will be some name round which cluster tender
memories in the old Motherland. We are some 1800
feet above the sea, and after the great heat of New York,
Newport, and Cincinnati, the freshness and delight of
this brisk, mountain air are quite past describing. For
mere physical enjoyment, I have certainly never felt its
equal, and can imagine nothing finer.
And now for our journey down. We left Cincinnati
early in the morning by the Cincinnati Southern Railway,
a line built entirely by the city, and the cost of which
will probably make the municipality poor for some years
to come. But it seems to me a splendid and sagacious
1 82 Vacation Rambles
act of foresight in a great community, to have boldly
taken hold of and opened up at once what must be one,
if not the main, artery of communication between North
and South in the future. I believe the impelling motive
was the tendency of the carrying trade of late years to
settle along other routes, leaving the metropolis of the
south-west out in the cold. If this be so, the result
justifies the prompt courage of the citizens of Cincinnati,
for the tide has obviously set in again with a vengeance.
The passenger -cars are filled to the utmost of their
capacity, and freight, as we know here too well, is often
delayed for days, in spite of all the efforts of the excellent
staff of the road. Besides its through traffic, the line has
opened up an entirely new country, of which these high-
lands seem likely to prove a profitable, as they certainly
are the most interesting, tract. This section has not been
open for six months, and already it is waking up life all
over these sparsely-settled regions. Down below on the
way to Chatanooga I hear that the effect is the same,
and that in that great mineral region blast-furnaces are
already at work, and coal-mines opening all along the
line. At Chatanooga there are connections with all the
great Southern lines, so that we on this aerial height are,
in these six months, in direct communication with every
important seaport from Boston to New Orleans, and
almost every great centre of inland population ; and the
settlers here, looking forward with that sturdy faith
which seems to inspire all who have breathed the air for
a week or two, are already considering upon which
favoured mart they shall pour out their abundance of
fruits and tobacco, from the trees yet to be planted and
seed yet to be sown. All which seems to prove that
Cincinnati, at any rate, has done well to adopt the motto,
" L'audace, toujours l'audace," which is, indeed, character-
istic of this country and this time.
And the big work has not only been done, but done
well and permanently. The engineering difficulties must
have been very great • the cuttings and tunnels had to be
Vacation Rambles 183
made through hard rock, and the bridges over streams
which have cut for themselves channels hundreds of feet
deep. We crossed the Kentucky river, on (I believe)
the highest railway bridge in the world, 283 feet above
the water ; and rushed from a tunnel in the limestone
rock right on to the bridge which spans the north fork of
the Cumberland river, 170 feet below. The lightness of
the ironwork on which these bridges rest startles one at
first, but experience has shown them to be safe, and the
tests to which they have been put on this line would have
tried most seriously the strength of far more massive
structures. But it is only in its bridges that the Cin-
cinnati Southern Railway has a light appearance. The
building of the line has a solid and permanent look,
justifying, I should think, the very considerable sum per
mile which has been spent on it above the ordinary cost
in this country. And by the only test which an amateur
is as well able to apply as an expert, that of writing on a
journey, I can testify that it is as smoothly laid as the
average of our leading English lines. For the last fifty
miles we ran almost entirely through forests, which are,
however, falling rapidly all along the side of the line, and
yielding place to corn-fields in the rich bottoms, wherever
any reasonably level ground bordered the water-courses,
up which we could glance as we hurried past. I was
surprised, and, I need not say, greatly pleased, to see
the apparently excellent terms on which the white and
coloured people were, even in the Kuklux regions through
which we came. A Northern express man, our companion
at this point, denounced it as the most lawless in the
United States. About one hundred homicides, he declared,
had taken place in the last year, and no conviction had
been obtained, the juries looking on such things as re-
grettable accidents. This may be so, but I can, at any
rate, testify, from careful observation of the mixed gangs
of workmen on the road, and the groups gathered at the
numerous stations, to the familiar and apparently friendly
footing on which the races met. As for the decrease of
184 Vacation Rambles
the blacks, it must be in other regions than those traversed
by the Cincinnati Southern Bailway, for the cabins we
passed in the clearings and round the stations swarmed
with small urchins, clad in single garments, the most comic
little figures of fun, generally, that one had ever seen, as
they stood staring and signalling to the train. There is
something to me so provocative of mirth in the race, and
I have found them generally such kindly folk, that I
regret their absence from this same Alpine settlement, —
a regret not shared, doubtless, by the few householders,
to whom their constant small peculations must be very
trying.
About five we stopped at the station from which this
place is reached, and turning out on the platform were
greeted by four or five young Englishmen, who had pre-
ceded us, on one errand or another, every one of whom
was well known to me in ordinary life, but whom for the
first moment I did not recognise. I had seen them last
clothed in the frock-coat and stove-pipe hat of our much-
vaunted civilisation, and behold, here was a group which I
can compare to nothing likely to be familiar to your
readers, unless it be the company of the Danites, as they
have been playing in London. Broad-brimmed straw or
felt hats, the latter very battered and worse for wear ;
dark-blue jerseys, or flannel shirts of varying hue ; breeches
and gaiters, or long boots, were the prevailing, I think I
may say the universal costume, varied according to the
taste of the wearer with bits of bright colour laid on in
handkerchief at neck or waist. And tastes varied deli-
ciously, two of the party showing really a fine feeling for
the part, and one, our geologist, 6 ft. 2 in. in his stockings,
and a mighty Etonian and Cantab, in brains as well as bulk,
turning out, with an heroic scorn of all adornment, in woe-
fully battered nether-garment and gaiters, and a felt which
a tramp would have looked at several times before picking
it out of the gutter. There was a light buggy for pas-
sengers and a mule waggon for luggage by the platform ;
but how were nine men, not to mention the manager and
Vacation Rambles 185
driver, both standing over 6 feet, and the latter as big at
least as onr geologist, to get through the intervening miles
of forest tracks in time for tea up here 1 Fancy our
delight when a chorus of " Will you ride or drive 1 " arose,
and out of the neighbouring bushes the Danites led forth
nine saddle-horses, bearing the comfortable half-Mexican
saddles with wooden stirrups in use here. Our choice was
quickly made, and throwing coats and waistcoats into the
waggon, which the manager good-naturedly got into him-
self, surrendering his horse for the time, we joined the
cavalcade in our shirts.
A lighter-hearted party has seldom scrambled through
the Tennessee mountain roads on to this plateau. We were
led by a second Etonian, also 6 ft. 2 in. in his stockings,
whose Panama straw hat and white corduroys gleamed like
a beacon through the deep shadows cast by the tall pine-
trees and white oaks. The geologist brought up the rear,
and between rode the rest of us — all public schoolmen, I
think, another Etonian, two from Eugby, one Harrow, one
Wellington — through deep gullies, through four streams,
in one of which I nearly came to grief, from not following
my leader ; but my gallant little nag picked himself up like
a goat from his floundering amongst the boulders, and so
up through more open ground till we reached this city of
the future, and in the dusk saw the bright gleam of light
under the verandahs of two sightly wooden houses. In
one of these, the temporary restaurant, we were seated in
a few minutes at an excellent tea (cold beef and mutton,
tomatoes, rice, cold apple-tart, maple syrup, etc.); and
during the meal the news passed round that the hotel
being as yet unfurnished and every other place filled with
workpeople, we must all (except the geologist and the
AYellingtonian, who had a room over the office) pack away
in the next cottage, which had been with difficulty reserved
for us. If it had been a question of men only, no one
would have given it a thought ; but our party had now-
been swollen by two young ladies, who had hurried down
by an earlier train to see their brother and brother-in-law,
1 86 Vacation Rambles
settlers on the plateau, and by another young Englishman
who had accompanied them. A puzzle, you will allow,
when you hear a description of our tenement. It is a four-
roomed timber house, of moderate size, three rooms on the
ground floor, and one long loft upstairs. You enter through
the verandah on a common room, 20 ft. long by 14 ft. broad,
opening out of which are two chambers, 14 ft. by 10 ft.
One of these was, of course, at once appropriated to the
ladies. The second, in spite of my remonstrances, was
devoted to me, as the Nestor of the party, and on entering
it I found an excellent bed (which had been made by two
of the Etonians), and a great basin full of wild-flowers on
the table. There were four small beds in the loft, for which
the seven drew lots, and two of the losers spread rugs on
the floor of the common room, and the third swung a
hammock in the verandah. Up drove the mule waggon
with luggage, and the way in which big and little boxes
were dealt with and distributed filled me with respect and
admiration for the rising generation. The house is ringing
behind me with silvery and bass laughter, and jokes as to
the shortness of accommodation in the matter of washing
appliances, while I sit here writing in the verandah, the
light from my lamp throwing out into strong relief the
stems of the nearest trees. Above, the vault is blue beyond
all description, and studded with stars as bright as though
they were all Venuses. The katydids are making delight-
ful music in the trees, and the summer lightning is playing
over the Western heaven ; while a gentle breeze, cool and
refreshing as if it came straight oft' a Western sea, is just
lifting, every now and then, the corner of my paper. Were
I young again, — but as I am not likely to be that, I refrain
from bootless castle-building, and shall turn in, leaving
windows wide open for the katydid's chirp and the divine
breeze to enter freely, and wishing as good rest as they
have all so well earned to my crowded neighbours in this
enchanted solitude.
Vacation Rambles 187
The Luxury of Loafing
Rugby, Tennessee, 10th September 1880.
I take it I must have " written you frequent " (as they
say here), at this time of year, in the last quarter-century
on this theme, but, if you let me, should like to go back
once more on the old lines. " Loafing as she should be
taken " is likely, I fear, to become a lost art, though to
my generation it is the one luxury. A country without
good loafing-places is no longer a country for a self-
respecting man in his second half-century. The rapid
deterioration of our poor dear old England in this respect
fills me with forebodings far more than the Irish Question,
which we shall worry through on the lines so staunchly
advocated by you. No fear of that, to my thinking ;
but, alas ! great fear of our losing the power and the
means of loafing. Time was when John Bull, in his own
isle, was the best loafer in Christendom — (I may say in
the world, the Turk and Otaheitan loafer doing nothing
else, and he who does nothing but loaf loses the whole
flavour of it) — and I can remember the time when at the
seaside — for instance, Cromer, and inland, Betwys-y-Coed,
Penygurd, and the like — the true loafer might be happy,
gleaning " the harvest of a quiet eye," and far from any
one who wanted to go anywhere or do anything in
particular. The railway has come to Cromer, and I hear
that the guardian phalanx of Buxtons, Hoares, Gurneys,
and Barclays, all good loafers in the last generation, have
thrown up the sponge and gone with the stream. I was
at Betwys and Penygurd last year, and at the former
there were three or four long pleasure-vans meeting every
train ; at the latter, three parties came in, in a few hours,
to do Snowdon and get back to dinner at Capel Curig or
Bethgellert. Indeed, I was sore to mark that even
Henry Owen, landlord and guide, once a good loafer, has
succumbed. Over here it is still worse in the Atlantic
States ; but this is a big country, in which oases must be
1 88 Vacation Rambles
left yet for many a long year for the loafer, of which this
is one. It lies on a mountain plateau, seven miles from
the station, to which a hack goes twice daily to meet the
morning and evening mails (once too often, perhaps, for
the highest enjoyment of the loafer) ; but otherwise the
outer world, its fidgets and its businesses, no more con-
cern us than they did Cooper's jackdaw. I am conscious
that regular work here must be done by some one, as
daily meals at 7 A.M., and 12.30 and 6 P.M., never fail,
with abundance of grapes and melons — the peaches, alas !
were cut off by frosts when the trees were in blossom.
But beyond this, and the presence of a young English-
man in the house, who, in blue shirt and trousers, tends
and milks the cows, and puts in six or eight hours' work
a day at one thing or another in the neighbouring fields,
there is nothing to remind one that this world doesn't go
on by itself, at any rate in these autumn days. Almost
every cottage, or shanty, as they call these attractive
wooden houses, has a deep verandah (from which you
get a view, over the forest, of the southern range of
mountains, with Pilot Knob for highest point), and, in
the verandah, rocking-chairs and hammocks, in one or
other of which a chatty host or hostess is almost sure to
be found, enjoying air, view, rocking, and the indescrib-
able depth of blue atmosphere which laps us all round.
There is surely something very uplifting in finding the
sky twice as far off as you know it at home. I felt this
first on the Lower Danube and in Greece ; but I doubt if
Bulgarian or Greek heavens are as high as these. Every
now and again, a merry group of young folk go by in
waggon or on horseback ; but even they are loafers, as
they have no object in view beyond enjoying one another's
company, and possibly lunch or tea at the junction of
the two mountain-streams, the only lion we have within
a day's journey. Their parents may be found for the
most part in and round the hotel, for they are wise
enough to let the young ones knock about very much as
they please, while they take their own ease in the ver-
Vacation Rambles 189
*
andahs or shady grounds of " The Tabard." That hostelry
of historic name stands on an eminence next to this
shanty, and my "loaf-brothers," when I get any, are
generally saunterers from amongst its guests, and the one
who comes oftenest is perhaps the best loafer I have ever
come across. He is a rancheman on the Rio Grande,
and has been out here ever since he left Marlborough,
some fourteen years ago. Since then I should think he
has done as hard work as any man, in the long drives of
2000 miles which he used to make from Southern Texas
up to Colorado or Kansas, before the railway came.
Even now, I take it that for ten months in the year he
covers more ground and exhausts more tissue than most
men, which makes him such a model loafer when he gets
away. Yesterday, for instance, he started after lunch
from " The Tabard," 300 yards off, under a sort of en-
gagement, as definite as we make them, to spend the
afternoon here. On the way he came across a hammock
swinging unoccupied in the hotel grounds, and a volume
of Perulennis, and only arrived here after supper, in the
superb starlight (the moon is objectionably late in rising
just now), to smoke a pipe before bed-time. His ex-
perience of Western life is as racy as a volume of Bret
Harte. Take the following, for instance : — At a prairie-
town not far from his ranche, as distances go in the
West, there is a State Court of First Instance, presided
over by one Roy Bean, J. P., who is also the owner of the
principal grocery. Some cowboys had been drinking at
the grocery one night, with the result that one of them
remained on the floor, but with sense enough left to lie
on the side of the pocket where he kept his dollars. In
the morning, it appeared that he had been " rolled " —
Anglicr, turned over and his pocket picked — whereupon
a court was called to try a man on whom suspicion
rested. Roy Bean sat on a barrel, swore in a jury, and
then addressed the prisoner thus : " Now, you give that
man his money back." The culprit, who had sent for
the lawyer of the place to defend him, hesitated for a
190 Vacation Rambles
moment, and then pulled out the money. "You treat
this crowd," were Roy's next words ; and while " drinks
round " were handed to the delighted cowboys at the
prisoner's expense, Roy pulled out his watch and went
on : " You've got just five minutes to clear out of this
town, and if ever you come in again, we'll hang you."
The culprit made off just as his lawyer came up, who
remonstrated with Roy, explaining that the proper -course
would have been to have heard the charge, committed
the prisoner, and sent him to the county town for trial.
" And go off sixty miles, and hang round with the
boys [witnesses] for you -to pull the skunk through and
touch the dollars ! " said Roy scornfully ; whereupon the
lawyer disappeared in pursuit of his client and unpaid
fee.
It occurs to one to ask how much of the litigation of
England might be saved if Judges of First Instance might
open with Roy's formula : " Now, you give that man his
money back." I am bound to add that his practice is not
without its seamy side. When the railway was making,
two men came in from one of the gangs for a warrant.
A brutal murder had been committed. Roy told his
clerk (the boy in the grocery, he being no penman him-
self) to make out the paper, asking : " Wot's the corpse's
name 1 " " Li Hung," was the reply. " Hold on ! "
shouted Roy to his clerk ; and then to the pursuers :
" Ef you ken find anything in them books," pointing to
the two or three supplied by the State, "about killin' a
Chinaman, it ken go," and the pursuers had to travel on
to the next fount of justice.
Here is one more : my " loaf-brother " heard it him-
self as he was leaving Texas, and laughed at it nearly all
the way up. A group of cowboys at the station were
discussing the problem of how long the world would last
if this drought went on, the prevailing sentiment being
that they would rather it worruted through somehow.
A cowboy down on his luck here struck in : " Wall, if
the angel stood right thar," pointing across the room,
Vacation Rambles 191
" ready to sound, and looked across at me, I'd jest say,
' Gabe ! toot your old horn ! ' "
Life in Tennessee
Rugby, Tennessee.
I was roused at five or thereabouts on the morning after
our arrival here by a visit from a big dog belonging to a
native, not quite a mastiff, but more like that than any-
thing else, who, seeing my window wide open, jumped in
from the verandah, and came to the bed to give me good-
morning with tail and muzzle. I was glad to see him,
having made friends the previous evening, when the
decision of his dealings with the stray hogs who came to
call on us from the neighbouring forest had won my
heart ; but as his size and attentions somewhat impeded
my necessarily scanty ablutions, I had to motion him
apologetically to the window when I turned out. He
obeyed at once, jumped out, laid his muzzle on the sill,
and solemnly, and, I thought, somewhat pityingly,
watched my proceedings. Meantime, I heard sounds
which announced the upi'ising of "the boys," and in a
few minutes several appeared in flannel shirts and
trousers, bound for one of the two rivers which run close
by, in gullies 200 feet below us. They had heard of a
pool ten feet deep, and found it too ; and a most delicious
place it is, surrounded by great rocks, lying in a copse of
rhododendrons, azaleas, and magnolias, which literally
form the underwood of the pines and white oak along
these gullies. The water is of a temperature which
allows folk whose blood is not so hot as it used to be to
lie for half an hour on its surface and play about with-
out a sensation of chilliness. On this occasion, however,
I preferred to let them do the exploring, and so at 6.I0
went off to breakfast.
This is the regular hour for that meal here, dinner at
twelve, and tea at six. There is really no difference
192 Vacation Rambles
between them, except that we get porridge at breakfast
and a great abundance of vegetables at dinner. At all
of them we have tea and fresh water for drink, plates of
beef or mutton, apple sauce, rice, tomatoes, peach pies or
puddings, and several kinds of bread. As the English
garden furnishes unlimited water and other melons, and
as the settlers — young English, who come in to see us —
bring sacks of apples and peaches with them, and as,
moreover, the most solvent of the boys invested at
Cincinnati in a great square box full of tinned viands of
all kinds, you may see at once that in this matter we are
not genuine objects either for admiration or pity. I must
confess here to a slight disappointment. Having arrived
at an age myself when diet has become a matter of
indifference, I was rather chuckling as Ave came along over
the coming short-commons up here, when we got fairly
loose in the woods, and the excellent discipline it would
be for the boys, especially the Londoners, to discover that
the human animal can be kept in rude health on a few
daily crackers and apples, or a slap-jack and tough pork.
And now, behold, we are actually still living amongst the
flesh-pots, which I had fondly believed we had left in your
Eastern Egypt ; and I am bound to add, " the boys " seem
as provokingly indifferent to them as if their beards were
getting grizzled. One lives and learns, but I question
whether these states are quite the place to bring home to
our Anglo-Saxon race the fact that we are an overfed
branch of the universal brotherhood. Tanner, 1 fear, has
fasted in vain.
Breakfast was scarcely over, when there was a muster
of cavalry. Every horse that could be spared or requisi-
tioned was in demand for an exploring ride to the west,
and soon every charger was bestrid by " a boy " in free-
and-easy garments, and carrying a blanket for camping
out. Away they went under the pines and oaks, a
merry lot, headed by our geologist, who knows the forest
by this time like a native, and whose shocking old straw
blazed ahead in the morning sun like, shall we say, " the
Vacation Rambles 193
helmet of Navarre," or Essex's white hat and plumes
before the Train Bands, as they crowned the ridge where
Falkland fell and his monument now stands, at the battle
of Newbury- Charles Kingsley's lines came into my
head, as I turned pensively to my table in the verandah
to write to you : —
When all the world is young, lad, and all the trees are green ;
And every goose a swan, lad, and every lass a queen ;
Then hey for boot and horse, lad, and round the world away ;
Young blood must have its course, lad, and every dog his day.
Our two lasses are, undoubtedly, queens out here. The
thought occurs, are our swans — our visions, already so
bright, of splendid crops, and simple life, to be raised and
lived in this fairyland — to prove geese 1 I hope not.
It would be the downfall of the last castle in Spain I am
ever likely to build.
On reaching our abode, I was aware of the Forester
coming across from the English garden, of which he has
charge, followed by a young native. He walked up to
me, and announced that they were come across to tidy up,
and black the boots. Here was another shock, that we
should be followed by the lumber of civilisation so
closely ! Will boots be blacked, I wonder, in the New
Jerusalem 1 I was at first inclined to protest, while they
made a collection, and set them out on the verandah, but
the sight of the ladies' neat little high-lows made me pause.
These, at any rate, it seemed to me, should be blacked,
even in the Millennium. Next minute I was so tickled
by a little interlude between the Forester and the native,
that all idea of remonstrance vanished. The latter, con-
templating the boots and blacking-pot and brushes — from
under the shapeless piece of old felt, by way of hat, of
the same mysterious colour as the ragged shirt and
breeches, his only other garments — joined his hands
behind his back, and said, in their slow way, " Look 'ere,
Mr. Hill, ain't this 'ere pay-day?" The drift was
perfectly obvious. This citizen had no mind to turn
O
194 Vacation Rambles
shoe-black, and felt like discharging himself summarily.
Mr. Hill, who was already busily sweeping the verandah,
put down his broom, and after a short colloquy, which I
did not quite catch, seized on a boot and brush, and began
shining away with an artistic stroke worthy of one of the
Shoeblack Brigade at the London Bridge Station. The
native looked on for a minute, and then slowly unclasped
his hands. Presently he picked up a boot and looked
round it dubiously. I now took a hand myself. If there
was one art which I learned to perfection at school, and
still pride myself on, it is shining a boot. In a minute or
two my boot was beginning " to soar and sing," while the
Forester's was already a thing of beauty. The native,
with a grunt, took up the spare brush, and began slowly
rubbing. The victory was complete. He comes now and
spends two hours every morning over his new accomplish-
ment, evidently delighted with the opportunity it gives
him for loafing and watching the habits of the strange
occupants, for whom also he fetches many tin pails of
water from the well, in a slow, vague manner. He has
even volunteered to fix up the ladies' room and fill their
bath (an offer which has been declined, with thanks), but
I doubt whether he will ever touch the point of a genuine
" shine."
They are a curious people, these natives, as the Forester
(an Englishman, reared in Lord Denbigh's garden at
Newnham Paddocks, and thirty years out here) told me,
as we walked off to examine the English garden, but I
must keep his experiences and my own observation for
separate treatment. The English garden is the most
advanced, and, I think, the most important and interesting
feature of this settlement. If young Englishmen of small
means are to try their fortunes here, it is well that they
should have trustworthy guidance at once as to what are
the best crops to raise. With this view, Mr. Hill was
placed, in the spring of this year, in charge of the only
cleared space available. All the rest is beautiful, open
forest-land. You can ride or drive almost anywhere
Vacation Rambles 195
under the trees, but there is no cultivated spot for many
miles, except small patches here and there of carelessly
sown maize and millet, and a rood or two of sweet
potatoes. The Forester had a hard struggle to do any-
thing with the garden at all this season. He was only
put in command in May, six weeks at least too late.
He could only obtain the occasional use of a team, and his
duties in the forest and in grading and superintending
the walks interfered with the garden. Manure was out of
the question, except a little ashes, which he painfully
gathered here and there from the reckless log-fires which
abound in the woods. He calls his garden a failure for
the year. But as half an acre which was wild forest-land in
May is covered with water-melons and cantalupes, as the
tomatoes hang in huge bunches, rotting on the vines for
want of mouths enough to eat them, as the Lima beans
are yielding at the rate of 250 bushels an acre, and as
cabbages, sweet potatoes, beets, and squash are in equally
prodigal abundance, the prospect of making a good living
is beyond all question, for all who will set to work with a
will.
In the afternoon, I inspected the hotel, nearly com-
pleted, on a knoll in the forest, between the English
garden and this frame-house. It is a sightly building,
with deep verandahs prettily latticed, from which one gets
glimpses through the trees of magnificent ranges of bine
forest - covered mountains. We have named it "The
Tabard," at the suggestion of one of our American members,
who, being in England when the old Southwark hostelry
from which the Canterbury Pilgrims started was broken up,
and the materials sold by auction, to make room for a
hop store, bought some of the old banisters, which he has
reverently kept till now. They will be put up in the
hall of the new Tabard, and marked with a brass plate
and inscription, telling, I trust, to many generations of
the place from which they came. The Tabard, when
finished, as it will be in a few days, will lodge some
fifty guests; and, in spite of the absence of alcoholic drinks,
196 Vacation Rambles
has every chance, if present indications can he trusted,
of harbouring and sending out as cheery pilgrims as
followed the Miller and the Host, and told their world-
famous stories five hundred years ago.
The drink question has reared its baleful head here, as
it seems to do all over the world. The various works
had gone on in peace till the last ten days, when two
young natives toted over some barrels of whisky, and
broached them in a shanty, on a small lot of no-man's
land in the woods, some two miles from hence. Since
then there has been no peace for the manager. Happily
the feeling of the community is vigorously temperate,
so energetic measures are on foot to root out the pest.
A wise state law enacts that no liquor store shall be
permitted under heavy penalties within four miles of an
incorporated school ; so we are pushing on our school-
house, and organising a board to govern it. Meantime,
we have evidence of unlawful sale (in quantities less
than a pint), and of encouraging gambling, by these pests,
and hope to make an example of them at the next sitting
of the county court. This incident has decided the
question for us. If we are to have influence with the
poor whites and blacks, we must be above suspicion
ourselves. So no liquor will be procurable at the
Tabard, and those who need it will have to import for
themselves.
A bridle-path leads from the hotel down to the Clear
Fork, one of the streams at the junction of which the
town site is situate. The descent is about 200 feet, and
the stream, when you get to it, from thirty feet to fifty
feet wide, — a mountain stream, with deep pools and big
boulders. Your columns are not the place for descriptions
of scenery, so I will only say that these gorges of the
Clear Fork and White Oak are as fine as any of their size
that I know in Scotland, and not unlike in character, with
this difference, that the chief underwood here consists of
rhododendron (called laurel here), azalea, and a kind of
magnolia I have not seen before, and of which I cannot get
Vacation Rambles 197
the name. I passed huge faggots of rhododendron, twelve
feet and fourteen feet long, lying by the walks, which had
been cleared away ruthlessly while grading them. They are
three miles long and cost under £100, ;i judicious outlay,
I think, even before an acre of land has been sold. They
have been named the Lovers' Walks, appropriately enough,
for no more well-adapted place could possibly be found for
that time-honoured business, especially in spring, when
the whole gorges under the tall pines and white oak are
one blaze of purple, yellow, and white blossom.
On my return to the plateau, my first day's ex-
periences came to an end in a way which no longer
surprised me, after the boot -blacking and the Lovers'
Walks. I was hailed by one of "the boys," who had
been unable to obtain a mount, or had some business
which kept him from exploring. He was in flannels,
with racquet in hand, on his way to the lawn-tennis
ground, to which he offered to pilot me. In a minute or
two we came upon an open space, marked, I see on the
plans, " Cricket Ground," in which rose a fine, strong
paling, enclosing a square of 150 feet, the uprights
being six feet high, and close enough to keep, not only
boys out, but tennis-balls in. Turf there was none, in
our sense, within the enclosure, and what there must
have once been as a substitute for turf had been carefully
cleared off on space sufficient for one full-sized court,
which was well marked out on the hard, sandy loam. A
better ground I have rarely seen, except for the young
sprouts of oak, and other scrub, which here and there
\xo,\'Q struggling up, in a last effort to assert their
"ancient, solitary reign." At any rate, then and there,
upon that court, I saw two sets played in a style which
would have done credit to a county match (the young
lady, by the way, who played far from the worst game of
the four, is the champion of her own county). This was
the opening match, the racquets having oidy just arrived
from England, though the court has been the object of
tender solicitude for six weeks or more to the four
198 Vacation Rambles
Englishmen already resident here or near by. The
Rugby Tennis Club consists to-day of seven members, five
English and two native, and will probably reach two
figures within a few days on the return of the boys.
Meantime the effect of their first practice has been that
they have resolved on putting a challenge in the
Cincinnati and Chatanooga papers offering to play a
match — best out of five sets — with any club in the
United States. Such are infant communities, in these
latitudes !
You may have been startled by the address at the head
of this letter. It was adopted unanimously on our return
in twilight from the tennis-ground, and application at once
made to the State authorities for registration of the name
and establishment of a post-office. It was sharp practice
thus to steal a march on the three Etonians, still far away
in the forest. Had they been present, possibly Thames
might have prevailed over Avon.
A Forest Ride
Rugby, Tennessee.
There are few more interesting experiences than a ride
through these southern forests. The scrub is so low and
thin, that you can almost always see away for long distances
amongst pine, white oak, and chestnut trees ; and every
now and then at ridges where the timber is thin, or where
a clump of trees has been ruthlessly "girdled," and the
bare, gaunt skeletons only remain standing, you may catch
glimpses of mountain ranges of different shades of blue and
green, stretching far away to the horizon. You can't live
many days up here without getting to love the trees even
more, I think, than we do in well-kempt England ; and
this outrage of "girdling," as they call it — stripping the
bark from the lower part of the trunk, so that the trees
wither and die as they stand — strikes one as a kind of
household cruelty, as if a man should cut off or disfigure
Vacation Rambles 199
all his wife's hair. If he wants a tree for lumber or
firewood, very good. He should have it. But he should
cut it down like a man, and take it clean away for some
reasonable use, not leave it as a scarecrow to bear witness
of his recklessness and laziness. Happily not much mischief
of this kind has been done yet in the neighbourhood of
Rugby, and a stop will now be put to the wretched practice.
There is another, too, almost as ghastly, but Avhich, no
doubt, has more to be said for it. At least half of the
largest pines alongside of the sandy tracts which do duty
for roads have a long, gaping wound in their sides, about
a yard from the ground. This was the native way of
collecting turpentine, which oozed down and accumulated
at the bottom of the gash ; but I rejoice to say it no
longer pays, and the custom is in disuse. It must be
suppressed altogether, but carefully and gently. It seems
that if not persisted in too long, the poor, dear, long-suffer-
ing trees will close up their wounds, and not be much the
worse ; so I trust that many of the scored pines, springing
forty or fifty feet into the air before throwing out a branch,
which I passed in sorrow and anger on my first long ride,
may yet outlive those who outraged them. Having got
rid of my spleen, excited by these two diabolic customs,
I can return to our ride, which had otherwise nothing but
delight in it.
The manager, an invaluable guest from New York, a
doctor, who had served on the Sanitary Commission through
the war, and I, formed the party. The manager drove
the light buggy, which held one of us also, and the hand-
bags ; while the other rode by the side, where the road
allowed, or before or behind, as the fancy seized him. We
were bound for a solitary guest-house in the forest, some
seventeen miles away, in the neighbourhood of a cave and
waterfall which even here have a reputation, and are some-
times visited. We allowed three and a half hours for the
journey, and it took all the time. About five miles an
hour on wheels is all you can reckon on, for the country
roads, sandy tracts about ten feet broad, are just left to
200 Vacation Rambles
take care of themselves, and wherever there is a sufficient
declivity to give the rain a chance of washing all the
surface off them, are just a heap of boulders of different
sizes. But, after all, five miles an hour is as fast as you
care to go, for the play of the sunlight amongst the
varied foliage, and the new flora and fauna, keep you
constantly interested and amused. I never regretted so
much my ignorance of botany, for I counted some fourteen
sorts of flowers in bloom, of which golden -rod and
Michaelmas-daisy were the only ones I was quite sure I
knew, — and by the way, the daisy of Parnassus, of which
I found a single flower growing by a spring. The rest
were like home flowers, but yet not identical with them —
at least, I think not — and the doubt whether one had ever
seen them before or not was provoking. The birds — few
in number — were all strangers to me ; buzzards, of which
we saw five at one time, quite within shot, and several
kinds of hawk and woodpecker, were the most common ;
but at one point, quite a number of what looked like very
big swifts, but without the dash in their flight of our bird,
and with wings more like curlews', were skimming over
the tree-tops. I only heard one note, and that rather
sweet, a cat-bird's, the doctor thought ; but he was almost
as much a stranger in these woods as I. Happily, however,
he was an old acquaintance of that delightful insect, the
" tumble-bug," to which he introduced me on a sandy bit
of road. The gentleman in question took no notice of me,
but went on rolling his lump of accumulated dirt three
times his own size backwards with his hind legs, as if his
life depended on it. Presently his lump came right up
against a stone and stopped dead. It was a " caution " to
see that bug strain to push it farther, but it wouldn't
budge, all he could do. Then he stopped for a moment or
two, and evidently made up his small mind that something
must be wrong behind, for no bug could have pushed
harder than he. So he quitted hold with his hind legs,
and turned round to take a good look at the situation, in
order, I suppose, to see what must be done next. At any
Vacation Rambles 201
rate, he presently caught hold again on a different side, and
so steered successfully past the obstacle. There were a
number of them working about, some single and some in
pairs, and so full of humour are their doings that I should
have liked to watch for hours.
We got to our journey's end about dusk, a five-roomed,
single-storied, wooden house, built on supports, so as to
keep it off the ground. We went up four steps to the
verandah, where we sat while our hostess, a small, thin
New Englander, probably seventy or upwards, but as brisk
as a bee, bustled about to get supper. The table was laid
in the middle room, which opened on the kitchen at the
back, where we could see the stove, and hear our hostess's
discourse. She boiled us two of her fine white chickens
admirably, and served with hot bread, tomatoes, sweet
potatoes, and several preserves, of which I can speak with
special praise of the huckleberry, which grows, she said,
in great abundance all round. The boys, we heard, had
been there to breakfast, after sleeping out, and not having
had a square meal since they started. Luckily for us,
her white chickens are a very numerous as well as beautiful
family, or we should have fared badly. She and her
husband supped after us, and then came and sat with us
in the balcony, and talked away on all manner of topics,
as if the chances of discourse were few, and to be
made the most of. They had lived at Jamestown, close
by, a village of some eight or ten houses, all through the
war, through which the Confederate cavalry had passed
again and again. They had never molested her or hers
in any way, but had a fancy for poultry, which might have
proved fatal to her white family, but for her Yankee wit.
She and her husband managed to fix up a false floor in
one of their rooms in which they fed the roosters, so
whenever a picket came in sight, her call would bring the
whole family out of the woods and clearing into the refuge,
where they remained peacefully amongst corn-cobs till the
danger had passed. She had nothing but good to say of
her native neighbours, except that they could make nothing
202 Vacation Rambles
of the country. The Lord had done all He could for it,
she summed up, and Boston must take hold of the
balance. We heard the owls all night, as well as the
katydids, but they only seemed to emphasise the forest
stillness. The old lady's beds, to which we retired at ten,
after our long gossip in the balcony, were sweet and clean,
and I escaped perfectly scatheless, a rare experience, I was
assured, in these forest shanties. I was bound, however,
to admit, in answer to our hostess's searching inquiries,
that I had seen, and slain, though not felt, an insect
suspiciously like a British B flat.
The cave which we sought out after breakfast was well
worth any trouble to find. We had to leave the buggy
and horses hitched up and scramble down a glen, where
presently, through a tangle of great rhododendron bushes,
we came on a rock, with the little iron-stained stream just
below us, and opposite, at the top of a slope of perhaps
fifteen or twenty feet, was the cave, like a long black eye
under a red eyebrow, glaring at us. I could detect no
figure in the sandstone rock (the eyebrow), which hung
over it for its whole length. The cave is said to run back
more than 300 feet, but we did not test it. There would
be good sitting-room for 300 or 400 people along the
front, and so obviously fitted for a conventicle, that I could
not help peopling it with fugitive slaves, and fancying
a black Moses preaching to them of their coming Exodus,
with the rhododendrons in bloom behind. Maidenhair
grow in tufts about the damp floor, and a creeping fern,
with a bright red berry, the name of which the doctor told
me, but I have forgotten, on the damp, red walls. What
the nook must be when the rhododendrons are all ablaze
with blossom, I hope some day to see.
We had heard of a fine spring somewhere in this part
of the forest, and in aid of our search for it presently took
up a boy whom we found loafing round a small clearing.
He was bare-headed and bare-footed, and wore an old,
brown, ragged shirt turned up to the elbows, and old,
brown, ragged trousers turned up to the knees. I was
Vacation Rambles 203
riding, and in answer to my invitation he stepped on a
stump and vaulted up behind me. He never touched me,
as most boys would have done, but sat up behind with
perfect ease and balance as we rode along, a young centaur.
We soon got intimate, and I found he had never been out
of the forest, was fourteen, and still at (occasional) school.
He could read a little, but couldn't write. I told him to
tell his master, from me, that he ought to be ashamed of
himself, which he promised to do with great glee ; also,
but not so readily, to consider a proposal I made him,
that if he would write to the manager within six months
to ask for it, he should be paid $1. I found that he knew
nothing of the flowers or butterflies, of which some dozen
different kinds crossed our path. He just reckoned they
were all butterflies, as indeed they were. He knew,
however, a good deal about the trees and shrubs, and more
about the forest beasts. Had seen several deer only
yesterday, and an old opossum with nine young, a number
which took the doctor's breath away. There were lots of
foxes in the woods, but he did not see them so often. His
face lighted up when he was promised $2 for the first
opossum he would tame and bring across to Rugby. After
guiding us to the spring, and hunting out an old wooden
cup amongst the bushes, he went off cheerily through the
bushes, with two quarter -dollar bits in his pocket, an
interesting young wild man. Will he ever bring the
opossum 1
We got back without further incident (except flushing
quite a number of quail, which must be lovely shooting in
these woods), and found the boys at home, and hard at
lawn-tennis and well-digging. The hogs are becoming an
object of their decided animosity, and having heard of
a Yankee notion, a sort of tweezers, which ring a hog
by one motion, in a second, they are going to get it, and
then to catch and ring every grunter who shows his nose
near the asylum. Out of this there should come some
fun, shortly.
204 Vacation Rambles
The Natives
Rugby, Tennessee.
When all is said and sung, there is nothing so interesting
as the man and woman who dwell on any corner of the
earth ; so, before giving you any further details of our
surroundings, or doings, or prospects, let me introduce you
to our neighbours, so far as I have as yet the pleasure of
their acquaintance. And I am glad at once to acknowledge
that it is a pleasure, notwithstanding all the talk we have
heard of "mean whites," "poor, white trash," and the like,
in novels, travels, and newspapers. It may possibly be
that we have been fortunate, and that our neighbours here
are no fair specimens of the " poor whites " of the South.
This, and the next three counties, are in the north-western
corner of Tennessee, bordering on Kentucky. They are
entirely mountain land. There are very few negroes in
them, and they were strongly Unionist during the war.
At present, they are Republican, almost to a man. There
is not one Democratic official in this county, and I am told
that only three votes were cast for the Democratic candi-
dates at the last State elections. They are overwhelmed
by the vote of western and central Tennessee, which carries
the State with the solid South ; but here Union men can
speak their minds freely, and cover their walls with pictures
in coloured broad-sheet of the heroes of the war, — Lincoln,
Governor Brownlow, Grant and his captains. They are
poor almost to a man, and live in log-huts and cabins which,
at home, could scarcely be rivalled out of Ireland. Within
ten miles of this place there are possibly half a dozen (I
have seen two) which are equal in accommodation and
comfort to those of good farmers in England. The best of
these belongs to our nearest neighbour, with whom a party
of us dined, at noon, the orthodox hour in the mountains,
some weeks since. He is a wiry man, of middle height,
probably fifty- five years of age, upright, with finely cut
features, and an eye that looks you right in the face. He
Vacation Rambles. 205
has been on his farm twenty years, and has cleared some
fifty acres, which grow corn, millet, and vegetables, and he
has a fine apple orchard. We should call his farming very
slovenly, but it produces abundance for his needs. He sat
at the head of his table like an old nobleman, very quiet
and courteous, but quite ready to speak on any subject,
and especially of the five years of the war through which
he carried his life in his hand, but never flinched for an
hour from his faith. His wife, a slight, elderly person,
whose regular features showed that she must have been
very good-looking, did not sit down with us, but stood at
the bottom of the table, dispensing her good things. Our
drink was tea and cold spring water ; our viands, chickens,
ducks, a stew, ham, with a profusion of vegetables, apple
and huckleberry tarts, and several preserves, one of which
(some kind of cherry, very common here) was of a lovely
gold colour, and of a flavour which would make the fortune
of a London pastry-cook ; a profusion of water-melons and
apples finished our repast ; and no one need ask a better, —
but I am bound to add that our hostess has the name for
giving the best square meal to be had in the four counties.
It would be as fair to take this as an average specimen of
the well-to-do farmers' fare here, as that of a nobleman
with a French cook of the gentry at home. Our host is a
keen sportsman, and showed us his flint-lock rifle, six feet
long, and weighing 18 lbs. ! He carries a forked stick as a
rest, and, we were assured, gets on his game about as
quickly as if it were a handy Westley-Richards, and seldom
misses a running deer. The vast majority of these
mountaineers are in very different circumstances. Most,
but not all of them, own a log cabin and minute patch of
corn round it, probably also a few pigs and chickens, but
seem to have no desire to make any effort at further deal-
ing, and quite content to live from hand to mouth. The}'
cannot do that without hiring themselves out when they
get a chance, but are most uncertain and exasperating
labourers. In the first place, though able to stand great
fatigue in hunting and perfectly indifferent to weather,
206 Vacation Rambles
they are not physically so strong as average English or
Northern men. Then they are never to be relied on for a
job. As soon as one of them has earned three or four
dollars, he will probably want a hunt, and go off for it
then and there, spend a dollar on powder and shot, and
these on squirrels and opossums, whose skins may possibly
bring him in ten cents as his week's earnings. It is useless
to remonstrate, unless you have an agreement in writing.
An Englishman who came here lately, to found some
manufactures, left in sheer despair and disgust, saying he
had found at last a place where no one seemed to care for
money. I do not say that this is true, but they certainly
seem to prefer loafing and hunting to dollars, and are often
too lazy, or unable, to count, holding out their small change
and telling you to take what you want. Temperate as a
rule, they are sadly weak when wild-cat whisky or " moon-
shine," as the favourite illicit beverage of the mountains is
called, crosses their path. This is the great trouble on pay
nights at all the works which are starting in this district.
The inevitable booth soon appears, with the usual ac-
companiment of cards and dice, and probably a third of
your men are thenceforth without a dime and utterly unfit
for work on Mondays, if you are lucky enough to escape
dangerous rows amongst the drinkers. The State laws
give summary methods of suppressing the nuisance, but
they are hard to work, and though public sentiment is
vehemently hostile to whisky, the temptation proves in
nine cases out of ten too strong. The mountaineers are in
the main well-grown men, though slight, shockingly badly
clothed, and sallow from chewing tobacco ; suspicious in
all dealings at first, but hospitable, making everything they
have in the house, including their own beds, free to a
stranger, and generally refusing payment for lodging
or food. They are also very honest, crimes against
property (though not against the person) being of very
rare occurrence. The other day, a Northern gentleman
visiting here expressed his fears to a native farmer, who,
after inquiring whether there were any prisons and police
Vacation Rambles 207
in New England, what these were for, and whether his
interrogator had locks to his doors and his safes, and bars
to his window-shutters, remarked, "Wal, I've lived here
man and boy for forty year, and never had a bolt to my
house, or corn-loft, or smoke-house, and I'll give you a
dollar for every lock you can find in Scott county." The
cattle, sheep, and hogs wander perfectly unguarded through
the forest, and I have not yet heard of a single instance of
a stolen beast.
There is a rough water-mill on a creek close by, called
Buck's Mill, which was run by the owner for years — until
he sold it a few months ago — on the following system.
He put the running gear and stones up, and above the
latter a wooden box, with the charge for grinding meal
marked outside. He visited the mill once a fortnight,
looked to the machinery, and took away whatever coin
was in the box. Folks brought their corn down the steep
bank if they chose, ground it at their leisure, and then, if
they were honest, put the fee in the box ; if not, they went
off with their meal, and a consciousness that they were
rogues. I presume Buck found his plan answer, as he
pursued it up to the date of sale.
In short, sir, I have been driven to the conclusion, in
spite of all traditional leanings the other way, that the
Lord has much people in these mountains, as I think a
young English deacon, lately ordained by the Bishop of
Tennessee, will find, who passed here yesterday on a
buggy, with his young wife and child, and two boxes and
ten dollars of the goods of this world, on his way to open
a church mission in a neighbouring county. I heard
yesterday a story which should give him hope as to the
female portion, at any rate, of his possible fiock. They are
dreadful slatterns, without an inkling of the great Palmer-
stonian truth that dirt is matter in its wrong place. A
mountain girl, however, who had, strange to say, taken the
fancy to go as housemaid in a Knoxville family, gave
out that she had been converted, and, upon doubts
being expressed and questions asked as to the grounds
2o8 Vacation Rambles
on which she based the assurance, replied that she knew
it was all right, because now she swept underneath the
rugs.
When one gets on stories of quaint and ready replies
in these parts, one "slops over on both shoulders." Here
are a couple which are current in connection with the war,
upon which, naturally enough, the whole mind of the
people is still dwelling, being as much occupied with it as
with their other paramount subject, the immediate future
development of the unbounded resources of these States,
which have been really opened for the first time by that
terrible agency. An active Secessionist leader in a neigh-
bouring county, in one of his stump speeches before the
war, had announced that the Southerners, and especially
Tennessee mountain men, could whip the white-livered
Yanks with pop-guns. Not long since, having been
amnestied and reconstructed again to a point when he saw
his way to running for a State office, he was reminded
of this saying at the beginning of his canvas. " Wal,
yes," he said, "he owned to that and stood by it still,
only those mean cusses [the Yanks] wouldn't fight that
way."
The other is of very different stamp, and will hold its
own with many world-wide stories of graceful compliments
to former enemies by kings and other big-wigs. General
Wilder, one of the most successful and gallant of the
Northern corps commanders in the war, has established
himself in this State, with whose climate and resources he
became so familiar in the campaign which ended under
Look-out Mountain, and has built up a great iron industry
at Chatanooga, in full sight of the battlefields from which
14,000 bodies of Union soldiers were carried to the national
cemetery. Early in his Southern career he met one of the
most famous of the Southern corps commanders (Forrest,
I believe, but am not sure as to the name), who, on being
introduced, said, " General, I have long wished to know
you, because you have behaved to me in a way for which
I reckon you owe me an apology, as between gentlemen."
Vacation Rambles 209
Wilder replied in astonishment that to his knowledge they
had never met before, but that he was quite ready to do
all that an honourable man ought. " Well now, General,"
said the other, "you remember such and such a fight
(naming it) 1 By night you had taken every gun I had,
and I consider that quite an ungentlemanly advantage to
take, anyhow." By the way, no man bears more frank
testimony to the gallantry of the Southern soldiers than
General Wilder, or admits more frankly the odds which
the superior equipment of the Federals threw against the
Confederate armies. His corps, mounted infantry, armed
with repeating rifles, were equal, he thinks, to at least three
times their numbers of as good soldiers as themselves with
the ordinary Southern arms. There are few pleasanter
things to a hearty well-wisher, who has not been in America
for ten years, than the change which has taken place in
public sentiment, indicated by such frank admissions as the
one just referred to. In 1870, any expression of admira-
tion for the gallantry of the South, or of respect or
appreciation of such men as Lee, Jackson, Longstreet, or
Johnson, was received either silently, or with strong
disapproval. Now it is quite the other way, so far as I
have seen as yet, and I cannot but hope that the last
scars of the mighty struggle are healing up rapidly
and thoroughly, and that the old sectional hatred and
scorn lie six feet under ground, in the national ceme-
teries : —
No more shall the war-cry sever,
Or the inland rivers run red ;
"We have buried our anger for ever,
In the sacred graves of the dead.
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the Judgment Day ;
Love and tears for the blue !
Tears and love for the gray !
No man can live for a few weeks on these Cumberland
Mountains, without responding with a hearty " Amen ! "
P
2io Vacation Rambles
Our Forester
Rugby, Tennessee.
Nothing would satisfy our Forester but that some of us
should ride over with him, some nine miles through the
forest, to see Glades, the farm upon which he has been for
the last eight years. He led the way, on his yellow mare,
an animal who had nearly given us sore trouble here. The
head stableman turned all the horses out one day for a
short run, and she being amongst them, and loving her old
home best, went off straight for Glades through the woods,
with every hoof after her. Luckily, Alfred, the Forester's
son, was there, and guessing what was the matter, just rode
her back, all the rest following. The ride was lovely,
glorious peeps of distant blue ranges, and the forest just
breaking out all over into golds, and vermilions, and purples,
and russets. We only passed two small farms on the way,
both ramshackle, and so the treat of coming suddenly on
some one hundred acres cleared, drained, with large, though
rough, farm buildings, and bearing the look of being cared
for, was indescribably pleasant. Mrs. Hill and her son
Alfred received us, both worthy of the head of the house ;
more I cannot say. They run the farm in his absence with
scarcely any help, Alfred having also to attend to a grist
and saw milljin the neighbouring creek. There were a fine
mare and filly in the yard, as tame as pet dogs, coming and
shoving their noses into your pockets and coaxing you for
apples. The hogs are good Berkshire breed, the sheep
Cotswolds. The cows (it is the only place where we have
had cream on the mountains), Alderney or shorthorns.
The house is a large log-cabin, one big room, with a deep,
open fireplace, with a great pinedog smouldering at the
back across plain iron dogs, a big hearth in front, on which
pitch-pine chips are thrown when you feel inclined for a
blaze. The room is carpeted and hung with photographs
and prints, a rifle and shot gun, and implements of one
kind or another. A small collection of books, mostly
Vacation Rambles 2 1 1
theological, and founded on two big Bibles, two rocking
and half a dozen other chairs, a table, and two beds in the
corners furthest from the fire, complete the furniture of the
room, which opens on one side on a deep verandah, and on
the other on a lean-to, which serves for kitchen and dininc-
room, and ends in a small, spare bedroom. ' A loft above,
into which the family disappeared at night, completes the
accommodation. I need not dwell on our supper, which
included tender mutton, chickens, apple -tart, custard
pudding, and all manner of vegetables and cakes. Mrs.
Hill is as notable a cook as her husband is a forester.
After supper we drew round the big fireplace, and soon
prevailed on our host to give us a sketch of his life, by
way of encouragement to his three young countrymen who
sat round, and are going to try their fortunes in these
mountains : —
"I was born and bred up in one of Lord Denbigh's
cottages, at Kirby, in Warwickshire. My father was
employed on the great place, that's Newnham Paddocks,
you know. He was a labourer, and brought up sixteen
children, not one of whom, except me, has ever been
summonsed before a justice, or got into any kind of
trouble. I went to school till about nine, but I was
always longing to be out in the fields at plough or bird-
keeping ; so I got away before I could do much reading or
writing. But I kept on at Sabbath School, and learnt more
than I did at the other. The young ladies used to teach
us, and they'd set us pieces and things to learn for them in
the week. My Caesar (the only ejaculation Amos allows
himself ; he cannot remember where he picked it up), how
I would work at my piece to get it for Lady Mary ! I've
fairly cried over it sometimes, but I always managed to get
it, somehow. After a bit, I was taken on at the house.
At first, I did odd jobs, like cleaning boots and carrying
messages ; and then I got into the garden, and from that
into the stable, and then for a bit with the keepers, and
then into livery, to wait on the young ladies. So you see
I learnt something of everything, and was happy, and earn-
212
Vacation Rambles
ing good wages. But I wanted to see the world, so I took
service with a gentleman who was a big railway contractor.
I used to drive him, and do anything a'most that he wanted.
I stayed with him nine years, and 'twas while going about
with him that I met my wife here. We got married down
in Kent, thirty-six years ago. Yes (in answer to a laughing
comment by his wife), I wanted some one to mind me in
those days. That poaching trouble came about this way.
I had charge for my master of a piece of railway that ran
through Lord 's preserves, in Wales. There were very
strict rules about trespassing on the lines then, because
folks there didn't like our line, and had been putting things
on it to upset the trains. One day I saw two keepers
coming down the line, with a labourer I knew between them.
He was all covered with blood, from a wound in his head.
' Why,' said I, ' what's the matter now 1 ' ' I've been out
of work,' he said, ' this three weeks, and I was digging out
a rabbit to get something to eat, when they came up and
broke my head.' From that time the keepers and 1
quarrelled. I summonsed them, and got them fined for
trespassing on the line ; and then they got me fined for
trespassing on their covers. We watched one another like
hawks. I'd often lie out at night for hours in the cold, in
a ditch, where I knew they'd want to cross the line, and
then jump up and catch them ; and they'd do the same by
me. Once they got me fined £3 : 10s. for poaching.
I remember it well. I was that riled, I said to the justices
right out, ' How long do you think it'll take me, gentlemen,
to pay all that money, with hares only Id. apiece 1 ' Then
I went in for it. I remembered the text, ' What thy hand
findeth to do, do it with thy might.' I did it. I used to
creep along at night, all up the fences, and feel for the
places where the hares came through, and set my wires ;
and I'd often have ten great ones screaming and flopping
about like mad. And that's what the keepers were, too.
I've given a whole barrowful of hares away to the poor folk
of a morning. Well, I know (in answer to an interpellation
of Mrs. Hill), yes, 'twas all wrong, and I was a wild chap in
Vacation Rambles 2 1 3
those days. Then I begun to hear talk about America, and
all there was for a man to see and do there, so I left my
master, and we came over, twenty-seven years ago. At
first I took charge of gentlemen's gardens, in New York
and New Jersey. Then we went to Miscejan, where I
could earn all I wanted. Money was of no account there
for a good man in those days, but the climate was dreadful
sickly, and we had our baby ; the first we had in twelve
years, and wanted to live on bread and water, so as we
could save him. So we went up right amongst the Indians,
to a place they call Grand Travers, a wonderful healthy
place, on a lake in the pine-forest country, as it was then.
I went on to a promontory, where the forest stood, not like
it does here, but the trees that thick, you had scarce room
to swing an axe. Well, it was a beautiful healthy place,
and we and baby throve, and I soon made a farm ; and then
folk began to follow after us, and before I left, there were
twenty-three saw-mills, cutting up from 80,000 to 150,000
feet a day, week in and out. They've stripped the country
so now, that there's no lumber for those mills to cut, and
most of them have stopped. I used to have a boat, with
just a small sail, and I'd take my stuff down in the morning,
and trade it off to the lumber-men, and then sail back at
night, for the wind always changed and blew back in the
evenings, most part of the year. Well, then, the war came,
and for two years I kept thinking whether I oughtn't to do
my part to help the Government I'd lived under so long.
Besides, I hated slavery. So in the third year I made up
my mind, and 'listed in the Michigan Cavalry. I took the
whole matter before the Lord, and prayed I might do my
duty as a soldier, and not hurt any man. Well, we joined
the Cavalry, near 00,000 strong down in these parts ; and
I was at Knoxville, and up and down. It Avas awful, the
language and the ways of the men, many of them at least,
swearing, and drinking, and stealing any kind of thing they
could lay hands on. Many's the plan for stealing I've
broken up, telling them they were there to sustain the flag,
not to rob poor folks. I spoke very plain all along, and
2 1 4 Vacation Rambles
got the men, many of them any way, to listen. I got on
famously, too, because I was never away plundering, and
my horse was always ready for any service. An officer
would come in, after we had had a long day's work, to say
a despatch or message must go, and no horse in our com-
pany was fit to go but mine, so the orderly must have him ;
but I always said no, I was quite ready to go myself, but
would not part company from my horse. The only time 1
took what was not mine was when we surprised a Con-
federate convoy, and got hold of the stores they were carry-
ing. There they were lying all along the roads, greatcoats
and blankets, and meal bags, and good boots, with English
marks on them. My Caesar, how our men were destroying
them ! I got together a lot of the poor, starving folk out
of the woods that both sides had been living on, and loaded
them up with meal and blankets. My Ceesar, how I loved
to scatter them English boots ! They never had seen such
before. No, sir (in reply to one of us), I never fired a
shot all that time, but I had hundreds fired at me. I've
been in the rifle-pits, and now and again seen a fellow
drawing a bead on me, and I'd duck down and hear the
bullet ping into the bank close above. They got to employ
me a good deal carrying despatches and scouting. That's
how I got took at last. We were at a place called Straw-
berry Plains, with Breckenridge's division pretty near all
round us. I was sent out with twelve other men, to try
and draw them out, to show their force and position ; and
so we did, but they were too quick for us. Out they came,
and it was a race back to our lines down a steep creek.
My horse missed his footing, and down we rolled over and
over, into the water. When I got up, I was up to my
middle, and, first thing I knew, there was a rebel, who swore
at me for a Gr — d d Yankee, and fired his six shooter
at me. The shot passed under my arm, and before he
could fire again an officer ordered him on, and gave me in
charge. I was taken to the rear, and marched off with a
lot of prisoners. The rebels treated me as if I'd been their
father, after a day or two. I spoke out to them about their
Vacation Rambles 2 1 5
swearing and ways, just as I had to our men ; and I might
have been tight all the time I was a prisoner, only I'm a
temperance man. They put me on their horses on the
march, and I was glad of it, for I was hurt by my roll
with my horse, and bad about the chest. After about
six days I got my parole, with five others. They were
hard pressed then and didn't want us toting along.
Then we started north, Avith nothing but just our
uniforms, and they full of vermin. The first house we
struck I asked where we could find a Union man about
there. They didn't know any one, didn't think there
was one in the county. I said that was bad, as we were
paroled Union soldiers, — and then all was changed. They
took us in and wanted us to use their beds, which we
wouldn't do, because of the vermin on us. They gave us
all they had, and I saw the women, for I couldn't sleep,
covering us up with any spare clothes they'd got, and
watching us all night long. They sent us on to other
Union houses, and so we got north. I was too ill to stay
north at my old work, so I sold my farm, and came south
to Knoxville, where I had come to know many kind, good
people, in the war. They were very kind, and I got work
at the improvements on Mr. Dickenson's farm (a model
farm we had gone over), and in other gentlemen's gardens.
But I didn't get my health again, so eight years ago I came
to this place on the mountains, which I knew was healthy,
and would suit me. Well, they all said I should be starved
out in two years and have to quit, but before three years
were out I was selling them corn and better bacon than
they'd ever had before. Some of 'em begin to think I'm
right now, and there's a deal of improvement going on, and
if they'd only, as I tell 'em, just put in all their time on
their farms, and not go loafing round gunning, and con-
tented with corn-dodgers and a bit of pork, and give up
whisky, they might all do as well as I've done. I should like
to go back once more and see the old country ; but I mean
to end my days here. There's no such country that I ever
saw. The Lord has done all for us here. And it seems
2 1 6 Vacation Rambles
like dreams, that I should live to see a Rugby up here on
the mountains. I mean to take a lot in the town, or close
by, and call it Newnham Paddocks. So I shall lay my
bones, you see, in the same place, as it were, that I was
reared in."
I do not pretend that these were his exact .words, — the
whole had to be condensed to come within your space, — but
they are not far off. It was now past nine, the time for
retiring, when Amos told us that he always ended his day
with family prayers. A psalm was read, and then we knelt
down, and he prayed for some minutes. Extemporary
prayers always excite my critical faculty, but there was
no thought or expression in this I could have wished to
alter. Then we turned in, I, after a pipe in the verandah,
in one clean w r hite bed, and two of the boys in the big one
in the opposite corner. There I soon dozed off', watching
the big, smouldering, white pine-log away in the depth of
the chimney-nook, and the last flickerings of the knobs of
pitch pine in front of it, between the iron dogs, and
wondering in my mind over the brave story we had just
been listening to, so simply told (of which I fear I have
succeeded in giving a very poor reflection), and whether
there are not some — there cannot, I fear, be many — such
lives lying about in out-of-the-way corners, on mountain,
or plain, or city. My last conscious speculation was
whether the Union would have been saved if all Union
soldiers had been Amos Hills.
I waked early, just before dawn, and was watching
alternately the embers of the big log, still aglow in the
deep chimney, and the white light beginning to break
through the honeysuckles and vines which hung over the
verandah, and shaded the wide, open window, when the
clock struck five. The door opened softly, and in stepped
Amos Hill in his stockings. He came to the foot of our
beds, picked up our dirty boots, and stole out again, as
noiselessly as he had entered. The next minute I heard
the blacking brushes going vigorously, and knew that I
should appear at breakfast with a shine on in which I
Vacation Rambles 217
should have reason to glory, if I were preparing to walk
in Bond Street, instead of through the scrub on the Cum-
berland Mountains. I turned over for another hour's
sleep (breakfast being at 6.30 sharp), but not without first
considering for some minutes which of us two — if things
were fixed up straight in this blundering old world — ought
to be blacking the other's boots. The conclusion I came
to was that it ought not to be Amos Hill.
The Negro "Natives"
Rugby, Tennessee, BOth October 1880.
There is one inconvenience in this desultory mode of
correspondence, — that one is apt to forget what one has
told already, and to repeat oneself. I have written some-
thing of the white native of these mountains ; have I said
anything of his dark brother 1 The subject is becoming a
more and more interesting and important one every day,
through all these regions. In these mountains, the negro,
perhaps, can scarcely be called a native. Very few black
families, I am told, were to be found here a year or two
since. My own eyes assure me that they are multiplying
rapidly. I see more and more black men amongst the
gangs on roads and bridges, and come across queer little
encampments in the woods, with a pile of logs smouldering
in the midst, round which stand the mirth -provoking
figures of small black urchins, who stare and grin at the
intruder on horseback, till he rides on under the gold and
russet and green autumnal coping of hickories, chestnuts,
and pines.
I am coming to the conclusion that wherever work is
to be had, in Tennessee, at any rate, there will the negro
be found. He seems to gather to a contractor like the
buzzards, which one sees over the tree-tops, to carrion.
And unless the white natives take to "putting in all fcheir
time," whatever work is going will not long remain with
them. The negro will loaf and shirk as often as not when
2 1 8 Vacation Rambles
he gets the chance, but he has not the same craving for
knocking off altogether as soon as he has a couple of
dollars in his pocket ; has no strong hunting instinct, and
has not acquired the art of letting his pick drop listlessly
into the ground with its own weight, and stopping to
admire the scenery after every half-dozen strokes. The
negro is much more obedient, moreover, and manageable,
— obedient to a fault, if one can believe the many stories
one hears of his readiness to commit small misdemeanours
and crimes, and not always small ones, at the bidding of
his employers. There is one thing, however, which an
equally unanimous testimony agrees in declaring that he
will not do, and that is, sell his vote, or be dragooned into
giving it for any one but his own choice ; he may, indeed,
be scared from voting, but cannot be " squared," a singular
testimony, surely, of his prospective value as a citizen.
Equally strong is the evidence of his resolute determination
to get his children educated. In some Southern States
the children are, I believe, kept apart, but in the only
school I have had the chance of seeing, black and white
children were together. They were not in class, but in
the front of the barn-like building, used both for church
and school, having just come out for the dinner hour.
There was a large, sandy, trampled place under the trees,
by no means a bad play-ground, on which a few of the
most energetic, the blacks in the majority, were playing at
some game as we came up, the mysteries of which I should
have liked to study. But the longer we stayed, the less
chance there seemed of their going on, and the game
remains a mystery to me still. Where these children,
some fifty in number, came from, is a problem ; but there
they were, from somewhere. And everywhere, I hear, the
blacks are forcing the running, with respect to education,
and great numbers of them are showing a thrift and energy
which are likely to make them formidable competitors in
the struggle for existence in all states south of Kentucky,
at any rate.
In one department (a very small one, no doubt), they
Vacation Rambles 2 1 9
will have crowded out the native whites in a very short
time, if I may judge by our experience in this house. We
number two ladies and six men, and our whole service is
done by one boy. Our first experiment was with a young
native, who " reared up " on the first morning at the idea
of having to black boots. This prejudice, I think I told
you, was removed for the moment, and he stayed for a
few days. Where it was he " weakened on us " I could
not learn for certain, but incline to the belief that it was
either having to carry the racquets and balls to the lawn-
tennis ground, or to get a fire to burn in order to boil the
water for a four-o'clock tea. Both these services were
ordered by the ladies, and I thought I saw signs (though
I am far from certain) that his manly soul rose against
feminine command. Be that as it may, off he went with-
out warning, and soon after Amos Hill arrived, with almost
pathetic apologies and a negro boy, short of stature, huge
of mouth, fabulous in the apparent age of his garments,
named Jeff. He had no other name, he told us, and did
not know whether it signified Jefferson or Geoffrey, or
where or how he got it, or anything about himself, except
that he had got our place at $5 a month, — at which he
showed his ivory, " some ! "
From this time all was changed. Jeff, it is true, after
the first two days, gave proofs that he was not converted,
like the white housemaid who had learned to sweep under
the mats. His sweeping and tidying were decidedly those
of the sinner, and he entirely abandoned the only hard
work we set him, as soon as it was out of sight from the
Asylum. It was a path leading to a shallow well, which
the boys had dug at the bottom of the garden. The last
twenty yards or so are on a steeper incline than the part
next the house, so Jeff studiously completed the few feet
that were left to the brow, and never put pick or shovel
on the remainder, which lay behind the friendly brow of
the slope. But in all other directions, where the work
was mainly odd jobs, a respectable kind of loafing, Jeff
was always to the fore, acquitting himself to the best, I
220 Vacation Rambles
think, of his ability. We did not get full command of
him till the arrival of a young Texan cattle-driver, who
taught us the peculiar cry for the negro, by appending a
high " Ho " to his name, or rather running them together,
so that the whole sounded, " Hojeff ! " as nearly as possible
one syllable. Even the ladies picked up the cry, and
thenceforward Jeff's substitute for the "Anon, anon, sir !"
of the Elizabethan waiter was instantaneous. He built a
camp-oven, like those of the Volunteers at Wimbledon,
and neater of construction, from which he supplied a
reasonably constant provision of hot water between six
and six, of course cutting his own logs for the fire. His
highest achievement was ironing the ladies' cotton dresses,
which they declared he did not very badly. Most of us
entrusted him with the washing of flannel shirts and socks,
which at any rate were faithfully immersed in suds, and
hung up to dry under our eyes. The laundry was an
army tent, pitched at the back of the Asylum, where Jeff
spent nearly all his time when not under orders, and
generally eating an apple, of which there was always a
sack, a present from some ranche-owner, or brought over
from the garden, lying about, and open to mankind at
larfife. I never could find out whether he could read.
One evening he came up proudly to ask whether his mail
had come, and sure enough when the mail arrived there
was a post-card, which he claimed. We thought he would
ask one of us to read it for him, but were disappointed.
He had a habit of crooning over and over again all day
some scrap of a song. One of these excited my curiosity
exceedingly, but I never succeeded in getting more than
two lines out of him —
Oh my ! oh my ! I've got a hundred dollars in a mine !
One had a crave to hear what came of those 100 dollars.
It seems it is so almost universally. The nearest approach
to a complete negro ditty which I have been able to strike
is one which the Texan gives, with a wonderful roll of the
word " chariot," which cannot be written. It runs : —
Vacation Rambles 2 2 1
The Debbie he chase me round a stump,
Gwine for to carry me home :
He catch me most at ebery jump,
Gwine for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chay-o-t,
Gwine for to carry me home.
The Debbie he make one grab at me,
Gwine, etc.,
Pie missed me, and my soul goed free,
Gwine, etc.
Swing low, etc.
Oh ! won't we have a gay old time,
Gwine, etc.
A eatin' up o' honey, and a drinkin' up o' wine.
Gwine, etc.
Swing low, etc.
This, sir, I think you will agree with me, though precious,
is obviously a fragment only. It took our Texan many
months to pick it up, even in this mutilated condition.
But after all, Jeff's character and capacity come out most
in the direction of hoots. It is from his attitude with
regard to them that I incline to think that the Black
race have a great future in these States. You may have
gathered from previous letters that there is a clear, though
not a well marked, division in this settlement as to blacking.
Amos Hill builds on it decidedly, and would have every
farmer appear in blacked boots, at any rate on Sunday.
The opposition is led by a young farmer of great energy
and famous temper, who, having been " strapped," or left
without a penny, 300 miles from the Pacific coast, amongst
the Mexican mines, and having made his hands keep his
head in the wildest of earthly settlements, has a strong
contempt for all amenities of clothing, which is shared by
the geologist and others. How the point will be settled
at last, I cannot guess. It stands over while the ladies
are still here, and I have actually seen the " strapped " one
giving his wondrous boots a sly lick or two of blacking
on Sunday morning. But, anyhow, the blacks will be
222 Vacation Rambles
cordially on the side of polish and the aristocracy. This
one might, perhaps, have anticipated ; but what I was not
prepared for, was Jeff's apparent passion for boots. I own
a fine, strong pair of shooting-boots, which he worshipped
for five minutes at least every morning. As my last day
in the Asylum drew on, I could see he was troubled in his
mind. At last, out it came. Watching his chance, when
no one was near, he sidled up, and pointing to them on
the square chest in the verandah which served for blacking-
board, he said, "I'd like to buy dem boots." After my
first astonishment was over, I explained to him that I
couldn't afford to sell them for less than about six weeks
of his wages, and that, moreover, I wanted them for
myself, as I could get none such here. He was much
disappointed, and muttered frequently, "I'd like to buy
dem boots ! " — but my heart did not soften.
Perhaps I ought rather to be giving your readers more
serious experiences, but somehow the negro is apt to run
one out into chaff. However, I will conclude with one
fact, which seems to me a very striking confirmation of my
view. All Americans are reading the Fool's Errand, a
powerful novel, founded on the state of things after the
war in the Kuklux times. It is written by a Southern
judge, a fair and clever man, clearly, but one who has no
more faith in the negro's power to raise himself to any-
thing above hewing wood and drawing water for the
" Caucasian " than C. J. Taney himself. In all that book
there is no single instance of the drawing of a mean,
corrupt, or depraved negro ; but the negroes are represented
as full of patience, trustfulness, shrewdness, and power of
many kinds.
The Opening Day
Rugby, Tennessee.
Our opening day drew near, not without rousing the most
serious misgivings in the minds of most of us whether we
Vacation Rambles
could possibly be ready to receive our guests. Invitations
had been issued to our neighbours — friends, as we had
learnt to esteem them — in Cincinnati, Knoxville, Chatanooga,
whose hospitalities we had enjoyed, and who had expressed
a cordial sympathy with our enterprise, and a desire to
visit us. We looked also for some of our own old members
from distant New England, in all probability seventy or
eighty guests, to lodge and board, and convey from and
back to the railway, seven miles over our new road, — no
small undertaking, under our circumstances. But the
hotel was still in the hands of the contractor, from whom,
as yet, only the upper floors had been rescued. The
staircase wanted banisters, and the hall and living-rooms
were still only half-wainscotted, and full of carpenters'
benches and plasterers' trays ; while the furniture and
crockery lumbered up the big barn, or stood about in cases
on the broad verandah. As for our road, it was splendid,
so far as it went, but some two miles were still merely a
forest track, from which all trees and stumps had been
removed, but that was all ; and the bridge over the Clear
Fork stream, by which the town site is entered, had only
the first cross timbers laid from pier to pier, while the
approaches seemed to lie in hopeless, weltering confusion,
difficult on horseback, impossible on wheels. However,
the manager declared that we should drive over the bridge
on Saturday afternoon, and that the contractor should be
out of the hotel by Monday midday. With this we were
obliged to be content, though it was running things fine,
as we looked for our guests on that Monday afternoon, and
the opening was fixed for the next morning. And so it
came to pass, as the manager said. Bridge and road were
declared passable by the named time, though nervous persons
might well have thought twice before attempting the former
in the heavy omnibuses hired for the occasion ; and we
were able to get possession and move furniture and crockery
into the hotel, though the carpenters still held the unfinished
staircase.
So far so good ; but still everything, we felt, depended on
224 Vacation Rambles
the weather. If the glorious days we had been having
held, all would be well. The promise was fair up to
Sunday evening, but at sunset there was a change. Amos
Hill shook his head, and the geologist's aneroid barometer
gave ominous signs. They proved only too correct. Early
in the night the rain set in, and by daybreak, when we
were already astir, a steady, soft, searching rain was coming
down perpendicularly, which lasted, with scarcely a break,
clear through the day, and till midnight. With feelings
of blank despair we thought of the new road, softened into
a Slough of Despond, and the hastily thrown-up approaches
to the bridge giving way under the laden omnibuses, and
waited our fate. It was, as usual, better than we looked
for. The morning train from Chatanooga would bring our
southern guests in time for early dinner, if no break-down
happened ; and sure enough, within half an hour of the
expected time up came the omnibuses, escorted to the
hotel door by the manager and his son on horseback ; and
the Bishop of Tennessee, with his chaplain, the Mayor of
Chatanooga, and a number of the leading citizens of that
city and of Knoxville, descended in the rain. In five
minutes we were at our ease and happy. If they had all
been Englishmen on a pleasure-trip, they could not have
taken the down-pour more cheerily as a matter of course,
and pleasant, rather than otherwise, after the long drought.
They dined, chatted, and smoked in the verandah, and
then trotted off in gum coats to look round at the walks,
gardens, streets, and cots, escorted by "the boys." The
manager reported, with pride, that they had come up in
an hour and a quarter, and without any kind of contretemps,
though, no doubt, the new road was deep, in places.
All anxiety was over for the moment, as the Northern
train, bringing our Cincinnati and New England friends, was
not due till after dark. We sat down to tea in detachments
from six to eight, when, if all went well, the northerners
would be about due. The tables were cleared, and relaid
once more for them, and every preparation made to give
them a warm welcome. Nine struck, and still no sign of
Vacation Rambles 225
them ; then ten, hy which time, in this early country, all
but some four or five anxious souls had retired. We sat
round the stove in the hall, and listened to the war-stories
of the Mayor of Chatanooga, and our host of the Tabard,
who had served on opposite sides in the terrible campaigns
in the south of the State, which had ended at Missionary
Ridge, and filled the national cemetery of Chatanooga with
14,000 graves of Union soldiers. But neither the interest
of the stories themselves, nor the pleasure of seeing how
completely all bitterness had passed out of the narrators'
minds, could keep our thoughts from dwelling on the
pitch-dark road, sodden by this time with the rain, and
the mauvais pas of the bridge. Eleven struck, and now it
became too serious for anything but anxious peerings into
the black night, and considerations as to what could be
done. We had ordered lanterns, and were on the point of
starting for the bridge, when faint sounds, as of men singing
in chorus, came through the darkness. They grew in
volume, and now we could hear the omnibuses, from which
came a roll of, "John Brown's body lies mouldering in
the grave," given with a swing and precision which told of
old campaigners. That stirring melody could hardly have
been more welcome to the first line waiting for supports,
on some hard-fought battle-ground, than it was to us. The
omnibuses drew up, a dense cloud rising from the drenched
horses and mules, and the singers got out, still keening up
their chorus, which only ceased on the verandah, and must
have roused every sleeper in the settlement. The Old Bay
State, Ohio, and Kentucky had sent us a set of as stalwart
good fellows as ever sang a chorus or ate a beef-steak at
midnight ; and while they were engaged in the latter
operation, they told how from the break-down of a freight-
train, theirs had been three hours late, how the darkness
had kept them to a foot's-pace, how the last omnibus had
given out in the heavy places, and had to be constantly
helped on by a pair of mules detached from one of the
others. "All's well that ends well," and it was with a
joyful sense of relief that we piloted such of our guests as
Q
226 Vacation Rambles
the hotel could not hold across to their cots in the barracks
at one in the morning. By nine, the glorious Southern
sun had fairly vanquished rain and mist, and the whole
plateau was ablaze with the autumn tints, and every leaf
gleaming from its recent shower-bath. Bugby outdid
herself and "leapt to music and to light" in a way which
astonished even her oldest and most enthusiastic citizens,
some half dozen of whom had had something like twelve
months' experience of her moods and tempers. Breakfast
began at six, and ended at nine, and for three hours batches
of well-fed visitors were turned out to saunter round the
walks, the English gardens, and lawn-tennis grounds, until
the hour of eleven, fixed by the Bishop for the opening
service. The church being as yet only some six feet above
ground, this ceremony was to be held in the verandah of
the hotel. Meantime, Bishop and chaplain were busy
among "the boys," organising a choir to sing the hymns
and lead the responses. The whole population were
gathering round the hotel, some four or five buggies, and
perhaps twenty horses, haltered to the nearest trees, showed
the interest excited in the neighbourhood. In addition to
the seats in the verandah, chairs and benches were placed
on the ground below for the surplus congregation, behind
whom a fringe of white and black natives regarded the
proceedings with grave attention. Punctual to time, the
Bishop and his chaplain, in robes, took their places at
the corner of the verandah, and gave out the first verses
of the " Old Hundredth." There was a moment's pause,
while the newly-organised choir exchanged glances as to
who should lead oft', and the pause was fatal to them for
the moment. For on the Bishop's left stood the stalwart
New Englander who had led the pilgrims of the previous
evening in the "John Brown" chorus. He, unaware of
the episcopal arrangements, and of the consecment vested
rights of " the boys," broke out with " All people that on
earth do dwell," in a voice which carried the whole assembly
with him, and at once reduced "the boys" to humble
followers. They had their revenge, however, when it came
Vacation Rambles 227
to the second hymn at the end of the service. It was
"Jerusalem, the golden," which is apparently sung to a
different tune in Boston to that in use in England, so
though our musical guest struggled manfully through the
first line, and had almost discomfited "the boys" by sheer
force of lungs, numbers prevailed, and he was brought into
line. The service was a short one, consisting of two
psalms, "Lord, who shall dwell in thy tabernacle ?" and
" Except the Lord build the house," the chapter of Solomon's
prayer at the dedication of the Temple, half a dozen of the
Church collects, and a prayer by the Bishop that the town
and settlement might be built up in righteousness and the
fear and love of God, and prove a blessing to the State.
Then, after the blessing, the gathering resolved itself into a
public meeting after American fashion. The Board spoke
through their representatives, and Bishop, judge, general
manager, and visitors exchanged friendly oratorical buffets,
and wishes and prophecies for the prosperity of the New
Jerusalem in the Southern highlands. A more genuine or
healthier act of worship it has not been our good-fortune
to attend in these late years.
Dinner began immediately afterwards, and then the
company scattered again, some to select town lots, some
to the best views, the Bishop to organise a vestry, and
induce two of " the boys " to become lay readers, pending
the arrival of a parson (in which he was eminently
successful) ; the chaplain to the Clear Fork with one of
"the boys'" fishing-rods, after black bass; and a motley
crowd to the lawn-tennis ground, to see some set played
which would have done no discredit to Wimbledon, and
excited much wonder and some enthusiasm amongst natives
and visitors. A cheerful evening followed, in which the
new piano in the hotel sitting-room did good service, and
many war and other stories were told round the big hall
stove. Early the next morning the omnibuses began
carrying off the visitors, and by night Rugby had settled
down again to its ordinary life, not, however, without a
sense of strength gained for the work of building up a
228 Vacation Rambles
community which shall know how to comport itself in good
and bad times, and shall help, instead of hindering, its
sons and daughters in leading a brave, simple, and Christian
life.
Life in an American Liner
It is some years since I addressed you last over
this signature — indeed I should doubt if five per cent of
your present readers will remember the " harvests " of a
quiet (ought I to say " lazy " rather than " quiet " 1) eye,
which I was wont in those days, by your connivance, to
submit to them in vacation times. Somehow to-day the
old instinct has come back on me, possibly because I happen
to be on an errand which should be of no small interest to
us English just now ; possibly because the last days of an
Atlantic crossing seem to be so naturally provocative of the
instinct for gossiping, that one is not satisfied with the
abundant opportunities one gets on board the vessel in
which one is a luxurious prisoner for ten days.
We have been going day and night since we left Queens-
town harbour at an average rate of 18 (land) miles an
hour. We are more than 1300 passengers (roughly 200
saloon, and the rest steerage), whose baggage, when added
to the large cargo of dry goods we are carrying, sinks our
beautiful craft till she draws 24 feet of water. She herself
is more than 150 yards long, and weighs as she passes
Sandy Hook, — well, I am fairly unable to calculate what
she weighs, but as much, at any rate, as half a dozen
luggage-trains on shore. We have had our last, or the
captain's dinner, at which fish, to all appearance as fresh as
if the sailors had just caught them over the side, and
lettuces, as crisp as if the steward had a nursery garden
down below, have been served as part of a dinner which
would have done no discredit to a first-class hotel ; begin-
ning with two sorts of soup, and ending with two sorts of
ices. Similar dinners, with other meals to match — four
solid ones in the twenty-four hours, besides odds and ends
Vacation Rambles 229
— have been served day by day, without a hitch, in a cabin
kept as sweet as Atlantic air, constantly pumped into it
by the engine, can make it.
By the way, sir, I may remark here, in connection with
our feeding, that if we might be taken as average specimens
of our race, there is no ground whatever for anxiety as to
the Anglo-Saxon digestion, of which some disagreeable
philosophers have spoken with disrespect and foreboding
in recent years. There were, perhaps, ten persons whose
native tongue was not English, and yet we carried our four
solid meals a day with resolution bordering on the heroic.
The racks were never on the tables, and we had only for a
few hours a swell, which thinned our ranks for two meals ;
and yet when I look round, and make such inquiry as I
can, I can see or hear of nothing more than a very slight
trace of dyspepsia here and there. The principal change
I remarked in the manners and customs on the voyage was
the marked increase of play and betting on board. When
I first crossed, ten years ago, there was nothing more than
an occasional game at whist in the saloon or smoking-room.
This voyage it was not easy to get out of the way of hard
play except on deck. The best corner of the smoking-
room was occupied from breakfast till " Out lights " by a
steady poker party, and other smaller and more casual
groups played fitfully at the other tables. There were
always whist and other games going on in the saloon, but
of a soberer and (in a pecuniary sense) more innocent
character. There were " pools " of a sovereign or a half
sovereign on every event of the day, " the run " being the
most exciting issue. The drawer of the winning number
seldom pocketed less than £40, when it was posted on the
captain's chart at noon. I heard that play is rather
favoured now than otherwise on all the lines, as a per-
centage is almost always paid to the funds of the Sailors'
Orphan Asylum, for which excellent charity a collection
is also legitimately made during every passage. We were
good supporters, and collected nearly £70 at our entertain-
ment, which I attribute partly to the fact that we had on
230 Vacation Rambles
board a leading American actor, who most good-naturedly
" turned himself loose " for us, and that the plates at the
two doors were held by the daughters of an English earl,
and an (late, alas!) American ambassador of great eminence.
The countries could not have been more characteristically
or charmingly represented, and the charity owes them its
best thanks.
There was the usual mine of information and entertain-
ment, to be struck with ease by the merest novice in con-
versational shaft-sinking. Why is it that folk are so much
more ready to talk on an Atlantic steamer than elsewhere %
I myself "struck ile," in several directions, one of a sad
kind — Scotch farmers of the highest type going out to select
new homes, where there will be no factors. The most
remarkable of these appeared to have made up his mind
finally when he had been told that he would not be allowed
a penny at the end of his lease for the addition of three
rooms he was obliged to make to his house, as his family
were growing up. Have landlords and factors gone mad,
in face of the serious times which are on them 1
There were quite an abundance of parsons, of many de-
nominations, and all of mark. Prayers on Sunday were
read by a New England Episcopalian, and the sermon
preached by a Scotch Free Kirk minister. All were men
of broad views, in some cases verging on Latitudinarianism
to a point which rejoiced my heretic soul, e.g. a Protestant
minister in a great American western city, whose church
had recently been rebuilt. Looking round to find where
his flock could be best housed on Sundays, pending recon-
struction, he found the neighbouring synagogue by far the
most convenient, and proposed to go there. His people
cordially agreed, and despite the furious raging of the
(so-called) religious press, into the synagogue they went
for their Sunday services, stayed there six months, and
when they left, were only charged for the gas by the
Rabbi. An intimacy sprung up. It appeared that the
Rabbi looked upon our Lord as the first of the inspired
men of his nation, greater than Moses or Samuel, and in
Vacation Rambles 231
the end the two congregations met at a service conducted
partly by the Rabbi and partly by my informant ! — a note-
worthy sign of the times, but one at which I fear many
even of your readers will shake their heads.
There were some Confederate officers, ready to talk
without bitterness of the war, and I was very glad to
improve the occasion, having never had the chance of a
look from that side the curtain. Anything more grim and
humorous than the picture of Southern society during those
awful four years I never hope to meet with. The entire
want of regular medicines, especially bark, was their
greatest trouble in his eyes. In his brigade their remedy
for " the shakes " came to be a plaster of raw turpentine,
just drawn from the pine woods, laid on down the back.
Some one suggested that pills were very portable, and
easily imported. " Pills ! " he said scornfully ; " pills, sir,
were as scarce in our brigade as the grace of God in a
grog shop at midnight." Nothing so much brought out to
me the horrors of civil Avar as his account of the perfect
knowledge each side had of the plans and doings on the
other. A Northern officer, he had since come to know,
was leaning against a post within three yards of Jeff.
Davis when he made his famous speech announcing the
supersession of Joe Johnson as the general fronting
Sherman. Sherman had heard it in a few hours, and
was acting on the news before nightfall. The most terrible
example was that of the mining of the Richmond lines.
The defenders knew almost to a foot where the mines
were, and when they were to be fired. Breckenbridge's
division, in which he fought, were drawn up in line to
repel the attack when the earthworks went up in the air,
and the assailants rushed into the great gap which had
been made, and which was nearly filled, before they fell
back, with the bodies of Northern soldiers. For the last
two years, in almost every battle he had all he could do to
hold his own against the front attack, knowing and feeling
all the while that the enemy was overlapping and massing
on both flanks, and that he would have to retire his
232 Vacation Rambles
regiment before they could close. And yet they held
together to the last !
I pity mothers, too, down South,
Altlio' they sat amongst the scorners.
It is a curious experience, and one well worth trying,
this ten days' voyage. When you go on board at Liver-
pool, and look round at the first dinner, there are probably
not half a dozen faces you ever saw before. By the time
you walk out of the ship, bag in hand, on to the New York
landing-place, there are scarcely half a dozen with whom
you have not a pleasant speaking acquaintance ; while with
a not inconsiderable number you feel (unless you have had
singularly bad luck) as if you must have known them
intimately for years, without having been aware of it. As
you touch the land, the express men and hotel touts rush
on 3 r ou, and the spell is broken. The little society resolves
itself at their touch into separate atoms, which are whirled
away, without time to wish one another God -speed, into
the turbulent ocean of New York life, never again to be
gathered together as a society in this world, for worship,
for food, or fun. " The present life of man, king ! "
said a Saxon thane in Edwin's "Witenagemot, when tliey
were consulting whether Augustine and his priests should
be allowed to settle at Canterbury, " reminds me of one of
your winter feasts where you sit with your thanes and
counsellors. The hearth blazes in our midst, and a grate-
ful heat is spread around, while storms of rain and snow
are raging without. A little sparrow enters at one door
and flies delighted around us, till it departs through the
other. Such is the life of man, and we are as ignorant of
the state which went before us as of that which will follow
it. Things being so," went on the thane, " I feel that if
this new faith can give us more certainty, it deserves to be
received," — which last sentiment has, I allow, no bearing on
the present subject, nor, perhaps you will say, has the rest
of it. But somehow the old story came into my head so
vividly as I was leaving the steamer, that I feel like tossing
Vacation Rambles 2^
-30
it on to your readers, to see what they can make of it ;
though I own, on looking at it again, I am not myself clear
as to the interpretation, or whether I am the sparrow or
the thane.
New York is more overwhelming than ever, — surely
the most tremendous human mill on this planet ; but I
must not begin upon it at the end of a letter.
Life in Texas
Ranche on the Rio Grande,
mh September 1884.
It must be many years now (how they do shut up in these
latter days like a telescope) since I confided to you in these
columns the joy — not unmixed with reverence — of my
first interview with that worthy small person (I am sure
he must be a person) the tumble-bug of the U.S.A. I
looked upon him in those days as on the whole the most
industrious and athletic little creature it had ever been
my privilege to encounter. I am obliged now to take
most of that back, for to-day I have discovered that he
isn't a circumstance to his Mexican cousin on this side the
Rio Grande. At any rate, the specimens I have met with
here are not only bigger, but work half as hard again, and
about twice as cpiick. I was sitting just now in the
verandah in front of this ranche cabin, waiting for the
horses to be saddled-up at the corral just below, and
looking lazily, now eastward over the river and the wide
Texan plains beyond, fading away in the haze till the
horizon looked like the Atlantic in a calm, now westward
to the jagged outline of the Sierra Nevada, gleaming in
the sunshine sixty miles away, when I became aware of
something moving at my feet. Looking down I found
that it was a tumble-bug rolling a ball of dirt he had put
together, till it was at least four times as big as himself,
towards the rough stony descent just beyond the verandah,
at a pace which fairly staggered me. In a few seconds he
234 Vacation Rambles
was across the floor, and in amongst the stones which lay
thickly over the slope beyond. Here his troubles began.
First he pushed his ball backwards over a big stone, on
the further side of which it fell, and he with it, headlong
— no, not headlong, stern foremost — some five inches,
rolling over one another twice at the bottom. But he
never quitted hold, and began pushing away merrily again
without a moment's pause. Then he ran the ball into a
cul-de-sac between two stones, some inches high. After
two or three dead heaves, which lifted the ball at least
his own length up the side of the stones — and you must
remember, to judge of the feat, that he was standing on
his head to do it — he quitted hold, turned round, and
looked at the situation. I am almost certain I saw him
scratch his ear, or at least the side of his head, with his
fore -claw. In a second or two he fixed on again with
his hind-claws, pushed the ball out of the cul-de-sac, and
continued his journey. If that bug didn't put two and
two together, by what process did he get out of that cul-
de-sac 1 " Cogito, ergo sum." Was I wrong in calling him
a person 1 Well, I won't trouble you further with particulars
of his journey, but he ran his big ball into his hole under a
mesquite-bush, 19J yards from the spot on the verandah
where I first noticed him, in eleven minutes and a few
seconds by my watch. I made a calculation before mount-
ing that, comparing my bug with an average Mexican, five
feet eight inches high, and weighing ten stone, the ball of
dirt would be at least equal to a bale of cotton, eight feet
in diameter, and weighing half a ton, which the man would
have to push or carry 2 J miles in eleven minutes, to equal
the feat of his tiny fellow-citizen. In the depressed condi-
tion of Mexico, might not this enormous bug-power be
utilised somehow for the benefit of the Republic 1
I had barely finished my ciphering when I was called to
horse, and in a few minutes was riding across a vast plain,
nearly bare of grass in this drought, but dotted with
mesquite-bushes, prickly pear, and other scrub, so that the
general effect was still green. The riding was rough, as
Vacation Rambles 235
much loose stone lay about, and badgers', " Jack Rabbits',"
and other creatures' holes abounded ; but the small Mexican
horse I rode was perfectly sure-footed, and I ambled along,
swelling with pride at my quaint saddle, with pummel
some eight inches high, and depending lasso, showing that
for the time I was free of the honourable fraternity of
" gentlemen cow-punchers." Besides myself, our party
consisted of the two ranche-men — an Englishman and an
American, aged about thirty, old comrades on long drives
1000 miles away to the North, but now anchored on this
glorious ranche on the Rio Grande — and a cowboy. The
Englishman's yellow hair was cropped close to his head,
and his fair skin was burnt as red, I suppose, as skin will
burn ; the Marylander's black hair was as closely cropped,
and his skin burnt an equally deep brown. The cowboy,
an English lad of about twenty, reconciled the two types,
having managed to get his skin tanned a deep red, relieved
by large dark brown freckles, from the midst of which his
great blue eyes shone out in comical contrast. I fear —
The very mother that him bare,
She had not known her child.
They were all attired alike, in broad felt sombreros, blue
shirts, and trousers thrust into boots reaching to the knees.
Each had his lasso at pummel, and between them they
carried a rifle, frying-pan, coffee-pot, big loaf, and fore-
quarter of a porker — for we were out for a long day. A
more picturesque or efficient-looking group it would be
hard to find. I must resist the temptation of telling all
we did or saw, and come at once to our ride home shortly
before sunset. The ranche-men and I were abreast, and
the cowboy a few yards behind, when we came across a
bunch of cattle, conspicuous amongst which strode along
a stalwart yearling bull calf, Avhose shining brindle hide
and jaunty air showed that he, at least, was not suffering
from the scanty food which the drought has left for the
herds on these wide plains. He was already as big as his
poor raw-boned mother, who went along painfully picking
236 Vacation Rambles
at every shrub and tuft in her path, to provide his evening
meal at her own expense. Now these dude calves (who
insist on living on their parents, and will do nothing for
their own livelihood) can only be cured by the insertion of
a horse-ring in the upper lip, so that they cannot turn it
up to take hold of the maternal udder, and it is often in
bad times a matter of life or death to the cows to get
them ringed. After a conference of a few seconds, the
Marylander shifted the rifle to the saddle of the English-
man (already ornamented with the frying-pan and the
coffee-pot), and calling to the cowboy, dashed off for the
bunch of cattle. Next moment the cowboy shot past us
at full speed, gathering up his lasso as he went ; the bull-
calf was " cut out " of the bunch as if by magic, and went
straight away through mesquite-brush and prickly pears, at
a pace which kept his pursuers at their utmost stretch not
to lose ground. It was all they could do to hold it, never
for a full mile getting within lasso-reach of Boliborus, the
ranche-man following like fate, upright from shoulder to
toe (they ride with very long stirrups), bridle hand low,
and right hand swinging the lasso slowly round his head,
awaiting his chance for a throw ; the cowboy close on his
flank ; ranche-man number two clattering along, pot, kettle,
and rifle "soaring and singing" round his knees, but avail-
ing himself of every turn in the chase, so as to keep
within thirty or forty yards. I, a bad fourth, but near
enough to see the whole and share the excitement (if,
indeed, I hadn't it all to myself, the sport being to the
rest a part of the daily round). The crisis came just at
the foot of a mound, up which Boliborus had gained some
yards, but in the descent had slackened his pace and the pur-
suers were on him. The lasso flew from the raised hand, and
was round his neck, a dexterous twist brought the rope across
his forelegs, and next moment he was over on his side half
throttled. I was up in some five seconds, during which
his lassoer had him by the horns, ranche-man number two
was prone with all his weight upon his shoulders, and the
cowboy on his hind quarters, catching at his tail with his O
Vacation Rambles 237
left hand. That hull calf's struggle to rise was as superb
as Bertram Risingham's in Rokeby, and as futile ; for the
cowboy had caught his tail and passed it between his
hind legs, and by pulling hard kept one leg brandishing
aimlessly in the air, while the weight of the ranche-men
subdued his forequarters. The ring was passed through
his upper lip, and the lasso was off his neck in a few seconds
more, and the ranche-men turned to mount, saying to the
cowboy, " Just hold on a minute." The cowboy passed
the tail back between the hind legs, grasped the end firmly,
and stood expectant. Boliborus lay quiet for a second or
two, and then bounded to his feet, glaring round in rage
and pain to choose which of his foes to go for, when he
became aware of something wrong behind, and looking
round, realised the state of the case. Down went his
head, and round he went with a rush for his own tail end,
but the tail and boy were equal to the occasion, and the
latter still holding on tight by the former, sent back a
defiant kick at the end of each rush, which, however,
never got within two feet of the bull's nose, and could be
only looked upon as a proper defiance. Then Boliborus
tried stealing round to take his tail by surprise, but all to
as little purpose, when the ranche-men, who were now
both mounted, to end the farce, rode round in front of the
beast, caught his eye, and cried, " Let go." Whisking his
freed tail in the air he made a rush, but only a half-hearted
one, at the nearest, who just wheeled his horse, and as he
passed administered a contemptuous thwack over his loins
with a lasso. Boliborus now stood looking down his nose
at the appendant ring, revolving his next move, with so
comic an expression that I burst into a roar of laughter,
in which the rest joined out of courtesy. This was too
much for him, as ridicule proves for so many two-legged
calves, so he tossed his head in the air, gave a flirt with
his heels, and trotted off after his mother, a sadder, and
let us hope, wiser bull-calf ; in any case, a ringed one, and
bound in future to get his own living.
On my ride home my mind was much occupied by that
238 Vacation Rambles
cowboy, who rode along by me — telling how he had been
reading Gulliver's Travels again (amongst other things),
found it wasn't a mere boy's book, and wanted to get a
Life of Swift — in his battered old outfit, for which no Jew
in Rag-Fair would give him five shillings. The last time
I had seen him, two years ago, he had just left Hailebury,
a bit of a dandy, with very tight clothes, and so stiff a
white collar on, that on his arrival he had been nicknamed
" the Parson."
At home he might by this time be just through respon-
sions by the help of cribs and manuals, having contracted
in the process a rooted distaste for classical literature.
Possibly he might have pulled in his college boat, and won
a plated cup at lawn tennis, and all this at the cost of, say,
£250 a year. As it is, besides costing nothing, he can
cook a spare-rib of pork to a turn on a forked stick, hold
a bull-calf by the tail, and is voluntarily wrestling (not
without certain glimmerings of light) with Sartor Besartus.
Which career for choice 1 How say you, Mr. Editor 1
Crossing the Atlantic
4th September 1885.
" A mug-wump ! " I should like to ask you, sir — not
as Editor, not even as English gentleman, but simply as
vertebrate animal — what you would do if a stranger were
all of a sudden to call your intimate friends " mug-wumps,"
not obscurely hinting that you yourself laboured under
whatever imputation that term may convey ? I don't
know what the effect might have been in my own case,
but that the story of O'Connell, as a boy, shutting up the
voluble old Dublin applewoman by calling her a "parallel-
opiped," rushed into my head, and set me off laughing. I
haven't been able to learn more of the etymology of the
word than that it is said over here to have been first
used in a sermon (?) by Mr. Ward Beecher, and now
denotes "bolters" or "scratchers," as they were called
Vacation Rambles 239
last autumn, or in other words, the Independents, who
broke away from the party machine of Republicanism and
carried Cleveland. More power to the " mug-wump's "
elbow, say I ; and I only wish we may catch the " mug-
wumps," " mug-wumpism," or whatever the name for the
disease may be, in England before long. One of the
groups on the deck of the liner, amongst whom I first
heard the phrase, was a good specimen of the machine-
politician, a democrat of the Tammany Hall type. "You
bet " I stuck to him till I got at his candid account of the
campaign of last autumn, most interesting to me, but I
fear not so to the general English reader, so I will only
give you his concluding sentence : — " Well," with a long
suck at the big cigar he was half-eating, half-smoking, " I
tell you it was about the thinnest ice you ever saw before
we were over, — but, / got to land ! " From what I heard
on board and since, I believe the President is doing
splendidly ; witness his peremptory order for the great
ranche-men to clear out of the Reserves which they had
leased from the Indians, and fenced to the extent of some
millions of acres ; the righteousness of which presidential
action is proved (were proof needed) by the threatened
resistance of General B. Butler, one of the largest lessees.
I can see too clearly looming up a determined opposition
to the President's Civil Service reform from politicians of
both parties, mainly on the ground that he is " establish-
ing a class" in these U.S. — a policy which "the Fathers"
abhorred and guarded against, and which their only
legitimate heirs, the machine politicians, will fight to the
death. You may gauge the worth of this opposition by
contrasting their two principal arguments — (1) Nine-
tenths of the work of the Departments (Post Office,
Customs, etc.) can be learnt just as well in three months
as in ten years ; and (2) the other tenth, requiring skilled
and experienced officers, has never been interfered with
by either side. But, if argument two is sound, cadit
quwstio, as there is ex hypothesi already a permanent class
of civil servants, I conclude that were I an American I
240 Vacation Rambles
would accept " mug-wump " as a title of honour instead of
resenting it, and help to get up a "Mug-wump" club in
every great city.
We had a splendid crossing, deck crowded all the way,
and the company gloriously cosmopolitan and communi-
cative during the short intervals between the orthodox
four full meals a day. There is surely no place in the
world where that universal instinct, the desire to get
behind the scenes of one's neighbours' lives, is so easily
and abundantly gratified. Here is one of my rather odd
discoveries. On reaching the deck, after my bath on the
first morning, for the tramp before breakfast, I was joined
by a fine specimen of an old Yorkshireman. It seems we
had met years ago, at some political or social gathering,
and as he looked in superb health and fit to fight for his
life, I congratulated. Yes, he said, it was all owing to
his having discovered how to pass his holiday. He used
to go to some northern seaside place, one as bad as the
other, for " whenever the wind blew on shore you might
as well be living in a sewer." So he saved enough one
year to buy a return-ticket on a Cunard liner, calculating
that whatever way the wind blew he must be getting sea-
air all the time. He has done it every year since, having
found that besides sea-air he gets better food and company
than he could ever command at home. My next " find "
was a pleasant soldierly -looking man Avho called to me
from the upper deck to come up and see a sword-fish
chasing a whale. Alas ! I arrived too late. The uncivil
brutes had both disappeared by the time I got up ; but I
was much consoled by the talk which ensued with my
new acquaintance. He was a Lieutenant of Marines in
the Admiral's flag-ship off Palermo in King Bomba's last
days, and was sent ashore to arrest and bring on board
all sailors found with the Garibaldini. He seems to have
found it necessary to be present himself at the battle of
Metazzo (I think that was the name) and at the storming
of the town afterwards, in which the Garibaldini suffered
severely. The dead were all laid out before the gate
Vacation Rambles 241
after the town was taken, and he counted no less than
seventy bluejackets amongst them ! They used to drop
over the sides of the ships and swim ashore, or smuggle
themselves into the bum-boats which came off to the
fleet with provisions. No wonder that Ave have been
popular in Italy ever since.
Then, attracted by a crowd on the fore part of the
deck, roped off to divide steerage from saloon passengers,
I became one of a motley group assisting at a sort of
moral "free-and-easy," got up for the 300 steerage folk
by two ecclesiastics, whom I took at first for Romish
priests from their costume. I found I was mistaken, and
that they were the Principal and a Brother of " the
Fraternity of the Iron Cross," an order of the American
Episcopal Church, which, it seems, has taken root in
several of the large cities. The Brethren are vowed to
"poverty, purity, and temperance" (or obedience, I am
not sure which) ; and these two were crossing in the
steerage to comfort and help the poor folk there — no
pleasant task, even in so airy a ship and such fine weather.
One can imagine what power this kind of fellowship must
give the Iron Cross Brethren with their rather sad fellow-
passengers, to whom they could say — one of them, indeed,
did say it — " We are just as poor as the poorest of you,
for we own no property of any kind, and never can own
any till our deaths." This Brother (a strapping young
fellow of twenty-five, who I found had been an athlete
at Oxford) waxed eloquent to them on his experiences in
Philadelphia, especially on the working-men Brethren
there. One of these, a big, rough chap, with a badly
broken nose, he had rather looked askance at, first, till he
found that the broken nose had been earned in a rough-
and-tumble fight with a fellow who was ill-using a woman.
Now they were the closest friends, and he looked on the
broken nose as more honourable than the Victoria Cross,
and hoped none of the men there would fail to go in for
that decoration if they ever got the same chance.
In melancholy contrast to the Iron Cross Brethren
1;
242 Vacation Rambles
were two other diligent workers in quite another kind of
business. They haunted the smoking-room from breakfast
till "lights out," officious to help to arrange the daily
sweepstakes on the ship's run ; gloating over, and piling
caressingly as they rattled down on the table, the dollars
and half-crowns ; always on the watch and ready to take
a hand at cards, just to accommodate gents with whom
time hung heavily. Bagmen, they were said to be ; but I
doubt if they travel for any industry except plucking
pigeons on their own account — unmistakable Jews of a
low tjrpe, who never looked any man in the face : —
In their eyes that stealthy gleam,
Was not learned of sky or stream,
But it has the hard, cold glint
Of new dollars from the mint.
Their industry was pursued cautiously, as the fine old
captain is known to hold strong views about gambling,
and there was less on this ship than any other I have
crossed on. No baccarat - table going all day, with
excited youngsters punting their silver (gold, too, now
and then) over the shoulders of the players, — only a
quiet hand at euchre or poker at a corner table, in the
afternoon and after dinner ; but even with such straitened
opportunities, youngsters may be plucked to a fairly
satisfactory figure. From £10 to £20 was often at stake
on one deal at poker, and, I was told, not seldom much
higher sums. I saw myself one mere boy inveigled into
blind-hookey for a minute or two while the poker party
was gathering. He won the first cut ; and two minutes
later I saw "Iscariot Ingots, Esq., that highly respectable
man," looking abstractedly across the room, and dreamily
gathering up a large handful of silver which the boy
rattled down as he flung off to take his seat at the poker-
table ; and so on, and so on.
It occurs to one to ask, not without some indignation,
why this sort of thing is allowed on these Atlantic
steamers. My own observation confirms the general
Vacation Rambles 243
belief that professionals cross on nearly every boat ; and,
on every boat, there are youngsters fresh from school or
college, out of leading-strings for the first time, and with
considerable sums in their pockets. It is a bad scandal,
and might be stopped with the greatest ease. Prohibit
all cards, except whist for small points in the smoking-
room ; and let it be the purser's or some other officer's
duty to see the rule enforced. As things stand, I do not
know of a more dangerous place for youngsters — American
or English — than an Atlantic steamer.
One never gets past Sandy Hook, I think, without
some new sensation. This time, for me, it was the harbour
buoys, each of which carried a brilliant electric lamp.
They are lighted from the shore !
Notes from the West
Cincinnati, 2ith September 1886.
I never come to this country without stumbling over
some startling differences between our kin here and
ourselves, which it puzzles me to account for. Take this
last. Some da}~s ago, I met a young Englishman from a
Western ranche. He had run down some six hundred
miles, from Kansas City, into which he had brought a
" bunch " of steers from the ranche. As he would not be
wanted again for a fortnight, he had taken the opportunity
of looking in on his friends down South. In our talk
the question of railway fares turned up. " Oh, yes," he
said, "the fare is $25; but I only paid $16." "How
is that?" "Why, I just went to the 'ticket-scalpers','
right opposite the railway depot — here is their card
(handing it to me) ; and, you see, my ticket is to
Chatanooga ; so I might go on for another hundred and
fifty miles if I wanted to." There was the business card,
" Moss Brothers, ticket-brokers, opposite central depot,
Kansas City, members of the Ticket Brokers' Union."
It went on to say that every attention is paid to travellers.
244 Vacation Rambles
inquiries made, and information given, by these enter-
prising Hebrews ; and on the back, a list of the towns to
which they could issue tickets, including nearly every
important centre in the Northern and Western States.
Since then I have made inquiries at several towns, and
find that the " scalper " is an institution in every one of
them ; and, apart from the saving of money, is much in
favour with the travelling public, on account of his civility
and intelligence. The ordinary railway clerk is a remarkably
short-tempered and ill-informed person, out of whom you can
with difficulty extract the most trifling piece of information,
even as to his own line ; while the despised " scalper "
across the road (generally a Jew) will take any amount of
trouble to find out how you can "make connections,"
while furnishing you with a ticket, which he guarantees,
at a third less, on the average, than his legitimate but
morose rival in " the depot." But the strangest thing of
all is, that even the railway directors seem to think it all
right ; or, at any rate, that it is not worth their while to
try to stop this traffic. One friend, a first-rate business
man, actually said that he should have no scruple what-
ever in going to the " scalpers " when off his own system,
over which, of course, he is "dead-headed." I heard
several explanations of the phenomenon, the only plausible
one being that it is impossible to control the enormous
issues of cheap excursion tickets which are made by all the
main lines. But surely, then, the question occurs, " Why
impossible 1 " At any rate, the average Briton is inclined
to think that if such establishments appeared opposite the
Euston Square or Waterloo termini, they would soon hear
something from Mr. Moon and Mr. Balph Dutton not to
their advantage.
I gleaned other items of information from my young
friend from Kansas which may be useful to some of your
readers, now that there is scarcely a family in England (so
it seems to me, at least) which is not sending out one or
more of its younger members to try their fortunes in the
Far West. This, for instance, seems worth bearing in
Vacation Rambles 245
mind : When a young fellow comes out from home, he
shouldn't go and hire himself out at once to a farmer. If
he does, he'll find they'll make the winter jobs for an
Englishman pretty tough. He'll get all the hardest work
laid out for him, and mighty poor pay at the end. Let
him go and board with a farmer. Any one will be glad
to take him for a few dollars. Then he can learn all he
wants, and they'll be glad of his help, because they'll see
it's a picnic. If you like it, you can buy and settle down.
If not, you can just pull out, and go on somewhere else.
The administration of justice on the plains is still in a
primitive condition. The difficulty of getting a jury of
farmers together makes a gaol delivery a troublesome
matter. Another youngster from Dakota illustrated this
from his section. There was a turbulent member of the
community who, after committing other minor offences, at
last got lodged in the shanty which does office for a gaol, on
the serious charge of a murderous attack on a girl who
refused any longer to receive his attentions, and on her
father when he came to the rescue. He had lain in gaol
for some weeks, waiting for a judge and jury, when 4th
July came round. The Sheriff-Constable, with all the rest
of the neighbours, was bound for the nearest railway-
station, some ten miles off, where the anniversary of " the
glorious Fourth " was to be commemorated, with trotting
marches and other diversions. He had one other prisoner
in charge, and so, after weighing the matter well, and
taking the length of their incarceration into account, came
to the ingenious conclusion to let them out for the day,
each going bail for the return of the other on the following
day. On the morrow, however, it was found that the
chief culprit had not turned up, and the fathers of the
little community gathered in indignant council to consider
what was to be done. After some debate the Sherill-
Constable gave it as his opinion that, on the whole,
Dogberry's advice was sound, and they should let him go,
and thank God they were rid of a knave, " the country
having spent too much already over the darned cuss." To
o
246 Vacation Rambles
this the patres conscripti agreed, and went home to their
farms. Even stranger is another well-authenticated story
from one of the most active and important of the new
cities in the North- West. Amongst the first settlers there
was one who had dabbled in real estate, and grown with
the growth of the city, until he had become "one of our
principal citizens." No one seemed to know whether he
was a lawyer by profession, and he never conducted a case
in Court. But one thing was quite clear, that he was intimate
with all the judges, had the entree to their private rooms, and,
especially in the case of the Judges of the Supreme Court,
scarcely ever failed to avail himself of this privilege when
the Courts were sitting. He had a capital cook and good
horses, which were always freely at the service of the
representatives of justice. Gradually it began to be quietly
understood, no one quite knew how, amongst suitors, that
it was possible, and very desirable, to interest the
gentleman in question in their cases. He was read)', it
would seem, to accept a retaining-fee. His charge was
fixed at a very moderate percentage on the value of the
property in dispute, which nobody need pay unless they
thought it worth while. Moreover, the system was
one of "No cure, no pay." He gave every one an ac-
knowledgment in writing of the amount paid in their
respective cases, with an undertaking to return the full
sum in the event of their proving unsuccessful. It there-
fore naturally appeared to the average Western suitor
about as profitable an investment as he could make.
Strange to say, this queer practice seems to have gone on
for years, and no shadow of suspicion ever fell on this
" principal citizen," whatever might have been the case as
to his friends the judges. The strong individuality and
secretiveness which marks the Western character may
probably account for the fact that during his life no one
would seem to have taken any public notice of this
peculiar industry. If a suitor was successful, he was
content ; if not, he got back his money, and it was nobody's
affair but his own. Well, the good man died, and was
Vacation Rambles 247
buried, and his executors, in administering his estate, were
astonished to find bundles of receipts from suitors of all
classes and degrees, acknowledging the repayment to them
of sums varying in amount from $5 and upwards " in the
case of Brown v. Jones," " in the matter of United States
v. Robinson," "ex parte White," etc. This led to further
inquiry, and the facts came gradually to light. The
sagacious testator had, in fact, taken his percentage from
both sides in almost every case of any importance which
had been heard in the Courts for years. He had never
mentioned suit or suitor to any of the judges, his visits to
them being simply for the purpose of asking them to dinner,
offering them a drive, or a bed if they were on circuit
away from home, or interchanging gossip as to stocks,
railways, or public affairs. And so for years five honest
men had been presiding in the different Courts, entirely
innocent of the fact that almost every suitor was looking
upon each of them as a person who had received valuable
consideration for deciding in his favour. I own that my
experience, though, of course, narrow, is decidedly favour-
able as to the ability and uprightness of the judges in out-
of-the-way districts ; so that nothing but what I could
not but regard as quite unimpeachable evidence would
have satisfied me that a whole community of litigants
should have gone on paying black-mail in this egregiously
stupid manner.
I was considerably astonished, and a little troubled, to
find so many of my friends among Northern Republicans
— men who had gone through and borne the burden of
the War of Secession — not, indeed, sympathising with the
Irish, whom they dislike and distrust more than we do,
but saying : "Oh, you had better let them have their own
way. Look at our experience of twenty 3-ears after the
war. Until we let the Southern States have their own
way, and withdrew the troops, and threw over the carpet-
baggers, we had no peace ; and now they are just as quiet
as New England." To which, of course, I made the
obvious reply : " Let the seceding States have their own
248 Vacation Rambles
way, did you 1 Why, I had always understood that they
went out because you elected a free-soil President, pledged
to oppose any further extension of their peculiar institu-
tion, and that at the end of the war that institution had
not only been confined within its old limits, but had
absolutely disappeared. The parallel would have held if
you had said to Mr. Jefferson Davis and his backers in the
spring of 1861, 'Do what you please as to your negroes;
take them where you will ; it is a purely domestic matter
for you to settle in your own way.' Instead of this, you
said, ' You shall not take your slaves where you please,
and you shall not go out of the Union.' In the same way,
we have to say now to the Irish, ' You shall not do what
you please with the owners of property in Ireland, and you
shall not go out of the Union.' "
You will be glad to hear that, wherever I went, there
seemed to be the expectation of a revival of trade in the
near future. I can see no ground myself for the ex-
pectation, so long as all industry remains in its present
competitive phase, and the power of production goes on
increasing instead of diminishing. Why should men not
desire as eagerly to take each other's trade this next year
as they did last year? But the knowing people think
otherwise, and I suppose that is good for something.
Westward Ho !
2nd April 1887.
It must be nearly thirty years since I first wrote to
you over this signature, but never before except in
long vacations, and from outlandish parts. Why not
keep to a good rule 1 you may ask, at this crowded time
of year. Well, the fact is I really want to say something
as to this " Westward Ho ! " gadfly, which seems to have
bitten young England with a vengeance in these last
months. I am startled, not to say alarmed, at the number
of letters I get from the parents and guardians — generally
s
Vacation Rambles 249
professional men — of youngsters eagerly bent on cattle-
ranches, horse -ranches, orange-groves in Florida, vine-
yards, peach and strawberry-raising, and I know not what
other golden dreams of wealth quickly acquired in the
open air, generally w r ith plenty of wild sport thrown in.
I suppose they write from some fancy that I know a
good deal about such matters. That is not so ; but I
do know a very little about them, and may possibly do
some good by publishing that little just now in your
columns.
First, then, as to cattle and horse-raising on ranches.
This is practically a closed business on any but a small
scale, and as part of farm work. All the best ranche-
grounds are in the hands of large and rich companies, or
millionaires, with whom no new-comer can compete. It
will, no doubt, be a valuable experience for any young
man to work for a year or two on a big ranche as a cow-
boy ; but he must be thoroughly able to trust his temper,
and to rough it in many ways, or he should not try it.
At the end, if prudent, he will only have been able to
save a few hundred dollars. But this is not the kind of
thing, so far as I see, that our youngsters at all expect or
want. Orange-groves are excellent and profitable things,
no doubt, and there are parts in Florida and elsewhere
where there is still plenty of land fit for this purpose,
though the choice spots are probably occupied. But an
orange-grove will not give any return till the sixth year,
cautious people say the seventh.
Vineyards may, with good luck, be giving some return
in the third or fourth year ; but the amount of hard work
which must be put into the soil in breaking up, clearing
out stumps, and ploughing, even if there is no timber to
fell, is very serious ; and the same may be said of peach-
orchards and early fruit and vegetable -rearing. More-
over, the choice places for such industry, such as Look-
out Mountain, are for the most part occupied. In a word,
though it is quite possible to do well in other industries,
and in ordinary farming, nothing beyond a decent living
250 Vacation Rambles
can be earned, without at any rate as free an expenditure
of brain and muscle as high farming requires at home.
On the other hand, sport, except for rich ranche-men who
can command waggons, horses, and men, and travel long
distances for it, is not to be had generally, and apt to
disappoint where it can be had.
So much for the working side of the problem. The
playing side — outside whisky-shops, which I will assume
the young Englishman means to keep clear of — ought also
to be looked fairly in the face before the experiment is
tried. Perhaps the most direct way to bring it home to
inquirers will be to quote from the letter of a young
English public-school boy who has lately finished his first
year as a cowboy on the cattle-ranche of one of the big
companies : —
Friday night we had quite a time. We went to an exhibition of
the home talent of , and really of all shows this was the worst I
ever saw. One man, the town barber, and our greatest "society
man," played a nigger, and played it so well that one could not help
fancying he has at one time been a "profesh." The rest were so
dull and such sticks that it made him shine more than ever. After
the home talent, there was a "social hop," at which Jerry and I
shone as being the "bored young men." You can, of course, see why
I was bored ; and Jerry, he is from Ohio, and of course cannot
compete with Ohio. However, as Jerry was somewhat of a great
man, the quadrilles being all called by him — i.e. he stood on the
stage and shouted, "balance all," "swing your partners," "lady's
chain," at the right time — we had to stay, and more or less to dance.
Jerry took great pains to find me partners worthy of a man who had
danced in a dress-coat. He did not succeed but once, when he intro-
duced me to a very lively little school-lady, " marm," I should say ;
the rest were very wooden in movement and conversation. The
school-marm amused me very much. She had not long returned
from the University, where all the young ladies, though they
met the other sex at school, were not allowed to speak to them at
other times. The girls were allowed to give dances, but she and
three or four others thought that a ' ' hen-pie " dance was too much
of a fraud, so they contrived a plan by which they could get three or
four dancing men in without going to the door. They fastened a
pulley on to the beam where the bell hung, and with the aid of a
Vacation Rambles 251
clothes-basket and a rope they spoiled the "hen-pie" with two or
three young men. This plan worked well several times, till one
night three or four of them were exerting themselves to get a very
heavy hoy up, when instead of a boy they perceived the bearded face
of the head-master. In horror they turned loose the rope and fled,
leaving him twelve feet from the ground, hanging on by his fingers to
the window-sill, from which, as no one would respond to his call for
help, he finally dropped. The young lady told it much better than I
have. Jerry was very popular as a "caller." I noticed he under-
stood his audience well, and whenever they got a figure they didn't
know, he came in with "grand chain," which they all knew and
performed very nicely ; so you would see a whole set lost in the
intricate feat of "visiting" (say) and all muddled up, when you
would hear the grand voice of Jerry, "grand chain," and all the
dancers would smile and go to it, and Jerry was cpiite the boss. We
however lost our reputation as good young men, as towards midnight
we were overcome with a great thirst ; so wicked I, a hardened
sinner, persuaded the social barber to let me have half-a-pint of
whisky ; and J and I were caught in the barber's shop, eating
tinned oysters with our pocket-knives, and biscuits, and indulging in
whisky-and- water. We were caught by three young men who had "got
religion " last fall, and who were, of course, highly shocked ; but I
think they would have overcome all their scruples but for the stern
mothers in the background, and they not only envied us our whisky-
and-water, but also our mothers. Half the fight in drinking, I think,
is to have been "raised " to look upon it as an every-day luxury, and
not as a thing to be had as a great treat on the sly. Well, good-bye !
I have written a lot of rubbish, but beyond that am fatter than I have
ever been in America.
This will probably give readers a pretty clear notion of
the social life available in the West. It is, as they will
see at a glance, utterly unlike anything they have been
used to. If this kind of social life (and there is something
to be said for it) is what they want, in the interludes of
really hard manual labour and rough board and lodging,
let them start by all means, and they may do very well
out West. Otherwise they had better look the thing
round twice or thrice before starting. In any case, no
young man ought to take more ready money with him
than will just keep him from starving for about a month.
252 Vacation Rambles
If he cannot make his hands keep him by that time, he
has no business, and will do no good, in the West.
The Hermit
Rugby, Tennessee, \§th September 1887.
I have always had a strong curiosity about hermits —
remember I paid a shilling as a small boy, when I could ill
afford it, to see one, somewhere up by Hampstead, a cruel
disappointment — used to make shy approaches to lonely
turnpike keepers before they were abolished, with no
success ; finding them always, like Johnson's " hoary sage,"
inclined to cut sentiment short with, " Come, my lad, and
drink some beer," I came to the conclusion long since that
the genuine hermit is as extinct as the dodo in the British
Isles. I was almost excited, therefore, the other morning,
to get a note on a dirty scrap of paper here, asking for the
loan of a book on geology, for, on inquiry, I found it
came from " the Hermit." He had suddenly appeared to
the man who drives the hack, and sent it in by him. No
one could tell me anything more except that the writer
.was " the Hermit," and lived, no one knew how, in a
shanty four miles away in the forest. I got the book out
of the library, " loaned " a pony, and in due course found
myself outside a dilapidated snake-fence, surrounding some
three acres of half-cleared forest, and the rudest kind of
log-hut ; evidently the place I was in search of, but no
hermit. While I was meditating my next move, a dismal
howl, like, I should think, the "lulilooing" of Central
Africa, came from out the neighbouring bush. I shouted
myself, and in a few moments " the Hermit " appeared,
and certainly at first glance "filled the bill " satisfactorily.
His head was a tangled mass of long hair and beard, out
of which shone two big, blue eyes ; a long, lean figure,
slightly bent, and clothed in a tattered shirt, and trousers
which no old Jew clothesman would have picked off a
dunghill. I explained my errand and produced the book.
Vacation Rambles 253
He thanked me, excused his dress ; had other clothes, he
said, in the house, which he would have put on had he
expected me ; was rather excited, so I must excuse him, as
his " buck " had gone right off, in disgust, he believed, at
the smallness of his flock, as he had only eight ewes.
" Buck " I found to be Anglice " ram," and that it was in
the hope of luring back the insufficiently married lord of
his flock that he had been howling when I came up. On
my doubting whether such a call would not be more likely
to speed the flight of the truant " buck," he rushed away
in the other direction and uplifted it again ; and in two
or three minutes the eight ewes, with several lambs, were
all round him, rubbing against his legs, while an Angora
goat looked on with dignity from some yards off. From
our talk I found that he was a Shrewsbury man, knew
three or four languages, and mathematics up to the
differential calculus ; found England " too noisy," and,
moreover, could get no land there ; had come out and
gone to the agricultural class at Cornell University ; had
now bought this bit of land, on which he could live well,
as he was a vegetarian (pointing round to some corn,
turnips, etc., in his enclosure) ; had indigestion at first, but
now had found out how to make bread which agreed with
him. His trouble was the forest hogs, which were always
watching to get at his crops, and his fence, having weak
places, would not keep them out, so he had to be always
on the watch. If he had any one to keep out the hogs,
he could go and find his "buck," he said, wistfully. The
better man Avithin me here was moved to offer to keep
Avatch and ward against hogs while he sought his " buck " ;
but, on the whole, as the sun was already westering, and I
had doubts as to when he might think of relieving guard,
my better man did not prevail, and I changed the subject
to the book I had brought. He glanced at the title-page,
was pleased to find that it was of recent date, as his
geology was rusty. Then, as he did not invite me into
his log-hut, I rode away. Next evening, as I was strolling
down our street, my attention was called to the notice-
254 Vacation Rambles
board outside the chief store, kept by an excellent, kindly
New Englander, Tucker by name, who very liberally
allows any of his neighbours to use it. Here I found the
following notice from "the Hermit," which had been sent
up by the hackman, to be posted. It opens, you will
remark, in the true prophetic style. It ran : "Ho! all
ye passers by ! Strayed — like a fool ! — a Ram (a male
sheep,) butts like a nipper, and runs after ! God will
bless the seer if he lets Isaac Williams, of Sedgemoor
Road, know. That is all. Please, Mr. Tucker, post this.
Oh, I forgot, — Buy of Tucker ! " I think you will agree
that I have struck a bona fide hermit in my old age.
But to return to my loafing idyll. Perhaps, if I had to
select out of several the ideal loafing haunt in these parts,
it would be the verandah of our doctor, another bright
New Englander, a graduate of Harvard, and M.D., who,
after fourteen years' practice at Boston, was driven South
by threatenings of chest troubles, and happily pitched on
this tableland amongst the mountains. Not that he is a
loaf-brother, except on rare occasions ; a man diligent in
his business, and prompt to answer any professional call ;
but as nobody seems ever to be ill, his leisure is abundant.
The greater part of this he spends in the study and
practice of grape-culture, in which he has, in the five years
since he took it up, earned a high reputation. But in
these autumn months, all the pruning, thinning, and
tending are over in the forenoon, and in the hours which
follow, which are delightfully hot and enjoyable to all
sun-lovers, he is generally to be found in his verandah,
well supplied with rocking-chairs. In front of the verandah
is his principal vineyard, sloping south, and at the bottom
of the slope, right away to the distant mountain-range
(with Pike's Peak soaring to the clouds, the centre of
the military telegraph system in the war, from which
messages were flashed to Look-out Mountain, over Chat-
anooga, in the critical days of battle, before Sherman
started on his march to the sea), wave beyond wave, as it
were, of many-coloured forest, each taking fresh tints as
Vacation Rambles 255
clouds flit over, and the triumphant old sun slopes to the
AVest. There one may find the doctor in his rocker, his
feet higher than his head on one of the verandah supports
— and all who have learnt to appreciate the rocking-chair
will agree that " heels up " is half the battle — his tobacco
and a book on vines on a small table by his side, and over
his head, within easy reach, a rope depending from the
verandah roof. At first I took it for the common domestic
bell-pull, but soon discovered its more subtle bearing on
the luxury of loafing. The doctor had been much exercised
by the visits of birds of outrageous appetite to his " Norton's
Virginia," and other precious vines. At first he had re-
sorted to his double-barrelled gun and small shot — indeed,
it yet stood in a corner of the balcony, loaded — but had
soon abandoned it. Its use was compatible neither with
his love for birds nor the enjoyment of his rocking-chair.
So, by an ingenious arrangement, he had hung bells at five
or six points in the vineyard, connecting each and all with
the depending-rope, so that no sooner did a bird settle
with a view to lunch or dinner, than it was saluted by a
peal from a bell close by, which sent it skirling back to
the forest, while the doctor had neither to lower his heels
nor take the pipe from his mouth.
Watching the entire discomfiture of the birds adds, I
must own, a keener zest even to the delicious view and
air, and to the racy stories of Western life poured out by
one or another of the loaf-brethren. A specimen or two
may amuse your readers. Placard over the piano in a
favourite resort of Texan cowboys : " Don't shoot the
musician ; he is doing his best." Cowboy entering the
cars at midnight, thermometer below zero, after snorting
for a minute, lets down a window, is remonstrated with,
and replies, " Wal, I'd as soon sleep with my head in a
dead horse as in this car with the windows shut ! "
Another tale I repeat with hesitation, though it was
seriously vouched for by the narrator as going on in his
neighbourhood, and within his own cognisance. An
eccentric settler, who played the fiddle powerfully, and
256 Vacation Rambles
lived next a man who had thrown a bridge over a creek,
in respect of which the knotty question of " right of way "
had arisen between them, read, or discovered somehow,
that excessive vibration was the cause of the fall of bridges,
and that a well-known railway iron bridge had been
distinctly felt to vibrate to the notes of a fiddle, all that
was necessary being to find the right chord and play up.
Thereupon he set himself on the peccant bridge, and
fiddled till he had hit on the sympathetic chord to his own
satisfaction ; since which he has put in all his spare time
at the bridge, fiddling on the right chord and looking for
the signs of a crash and the discomfiture of his neighbour.
A mad world, my masters ! And lucky for the world, say
I. But for the cracked fellows going up and down, what
a dull place it would be !
The whole neighbourhood, or, at any rate, the men of
hunting age, have suddenly been roused into unwonted
excitement and activity by the presence of a specimen of
the larger carnivora close to this town. It is either a large
panther or what they call a Mexican lion- — at any rate, as
big a beast of this kind as are bred over here, as his
footprint, seen of many persons, clearly proves. He has
been heard to roar by numbers, and Giles, the saw-mill
man, who, passing along wholly unarmed, saw him gliding-
through the bush close by, puts him at five feet from nose
to tail (root, not tip) at least. Giles adds that, at the
sight, his hair stood up and distinctly lifted his straw hat —
so perhaps his evidence must be discounted considerably.
Any way, a party, now collecting dogs to bring him to
bay, start to-morrow at dawn to give an account of him.
It is more than a year since one has ventured down this
way. A slaughter-house which has lately been set up in
the woods near by would seem to have drawn him. Let
us hope that no cunning old sportsman will watch there
to-night and bag him single-handed, and I may possibly
have to tell you of a memorable hunt next week.
Vacation Rambles 257
American Opinion on the Union
SS. Umbria, 5th October 1887.
That panther-hunt went off in a "fizzle." Our contin-
gent of determined sportsmen kept tryst at daylight, fully
armed, but some neighbours who were to bring the proper
dogs failed. The sun rose, broad and bright, and so, after
a short advance in skirmishing order over the ground
where the sawmill man had been so scared — just to save
their credit as Mimrods — the chase was abandoned ; wisely,
I should think, for I can scarcely imagine a more hopeless
undertaking than the pursuit of a panther in a Tennessee
forest in broad daylight without dogs. Whether lawyer
Giles had grounds for his scare, and what w r as the length
of that panther, must now remain ior all time in that
useful category of insoluble questions — like the identity
of "Junius," and Queen Mary's guilt — which innocently
employ so much of the spare time of the human race.
I have been back for the last fortnight "in amongst the
crowd of men," and if the things they have done are but
" earnest of the things that they shall do," well, our grand-
children will have a high old time of it ! At any rate, our
cousins hold this faith vigorously. Take, for instance,
the case of a leading dry-goods man who has been sitting
by me in the smuking-room of this ship, which has been
carrying us for the last four days against a head-wind at
the average rate of twenty miles an hour. Kecollect, sir,
that this ship is about 400 feet in length, of 8800 tons
register, with engines of 14,000 horse-power, and must at
this moment be as heavy as (say) lour big luggage-trains.
I ventured to suggest that, whatever may be in store for
us in the way of flying, science has about said her last word
in the direction of driving steam or any other ships on the
Atlantic. I felt almost inclined to resent the pity tinged
with scorn with which he said, "Why, sir I this is the
hundred and twenty-eighth time I have crossed this ocean.
The first time it took me twenty-two days. This vessel
S
2 58 Vacation Rambles
does it in six days and a half, and I shall do it in half
that time yet, — yes, sir ! " My friend must be at least
sixty !
The New York hotels were crammed as I came through
with men who had come from all parts of the States for
the yacht-race. I went out on a friend's steam-yacht on
the Thursday, when the second day's race should have
come off. There was fog and no wind off Sandy Hook, so
after lying-to in a lopping sea for a couple of hours, we
just steamed back, some hundred of us. But the game
had been well worth the candle. Anything so beautiful
as the movements of those two yachts in and out amongst
the expectant fleet of sightseers, I never beheld. There
were several old yachtsmen (Americans) on board, who
seemed rather to think the 'Thistle the more perfect of
the two, and when the second and deciding race had been
sailed, still guessed that if their Commodore, Pain, or
Malcolm Forbes had sailed the Thistle, she would not have
been twelve, or any, minutes behind.
As to more serious matters, you may be sure I lost no
chance of talking on our crisis with every intelligent
American or Canadian, — and I happened upon a great
number of the latter. Amongst the majority of Americans
I was much struck, and, I own, surprised, to find a sort of
lazy fatalism prevailing, so far as they troubled their heads
at all about the Irish question. Not a man of them
believed in the tyranny of the British Government or the
wrongs of the Irish ; but they seemed to think it was
somehow destiny. They knew the Irish — were likely to
have at least as bad a time with them as we are having —
but, unless you made up your minds to shoot, there was
no putting them down or bringing them to reason. They
had had to shoot — in New York during the war, and at
other times — and might probably have to shoot again ;
but then, that was over vital matters. We should never
make up our minds to shoot over letting them have a
Parliament at Dublin, and so they would get it by sheer
insolence and intrigue. Such views would have depressed
Vacation Rambles 259
me had I not found, on the other hand, that the few men
who had mastered the situation, without a single exception
saw that it was a matter, nationally, of life or death,
and hoped our Government would shrink from no measure
necessary to restore the rule of law, and preserve the
national life.
Amongst the Canadians, on the other hand, I did not
happen upon a single Home-ruler — in fact, was obliged to
own to myself that they seemed to set more store by the
unity of the Empire than we do in the as-yet-United
Kingdom. Indeed, if my acquaintances are at all repre-
sentative of the views of our Canadian fellow- subjects,
I feel very sure that the slight bond which holds the
Dominion to us would part within a few months of the
triumph of the Home-rule agitation. This possible fiasco,
however, did not seem to them much worth thinking about ;
but what was really exercising them was the probability
of a more intimate union or federation with the Mother-
country. For defensive purposes, I was glad to find that
they saw no difficulty whatever; believed, indeed, that
that question was already solved. But all felt that the
really difficult problem was a commercial union, which,
nevertheless, must be managed somehow, if the Empire is
to hold together. On this there were wide differences of
opinion, but, on the whole, a decided inclination to a plan
which I will endeavour to put in a few words. It is, that
every portion of the Empire shall be free, as at present, to
impose whatever tariff of customs it might think best for
raising its own revenue ; but an agreed discount (say, ten
per cent) should be allowed on all goods the manufacture
or product of the Mother-country, or any of its possessions.
Inasmuch, it was argued, as such a plan would allow the free
admission of all food and raw material, it ought not to hurt
the Free-trade susceptibilities of England, while leaving the
self-governing Colonies and India free to raise their own
revenue as might suit their own views or circumstances.
On the other hand, it would give an equal and moderate
advantage to all subjects of the Empire. A similar
260 Vacation Rambles
advantage might also, under this plan, be given to
importations made in ships belonging to any portion of
the Empire.
You, sir, may very probably have heard of and con-
sidered this plan, as I have been told that it, or one almost
identical, has been submitted both to the London Chamber
of Commerce, and to the Colonial Office, by Sir Alexander
Gait. I do not remember, however, to have ever seen it
discussed in your columns, as I think it might be with
advantage. One's brain possibly is not so fit for the
examination of ]:>olitical problems on even such a magnifi-
cent ship as the Umbria as on shore ; but " after the best
consideration I can give it," it does seem to me to be a
solution which might go far to satisfy the scruples of all
but fanatics of the " buy in the cheapest and sell in the
dearest market " gospel.
We have run 435 miles in the teeth of the wind, in the
last twenty-four hours.
EUKOPE— 1876 to 1895
A Winter Morning's Eide
The proverb that " The early bird gets most worms " has
no truer application than in travelling, considered as a fine
art. Of course to him who uses locomotion as a mere
method of getting from one place to another, it matters
nothing whether he starts at 3 A.M. or at noon. But to
the man who likes to get the most he can out of his life,
and looks upon a journey as an opportunity for getting
some new insight into the ways and habits and notions of
his fellowmen, there is no comparison between their value.
The noonday travelling mood, like noonday light, is
commonplace and uniform ; while the early morning mood,
like the light when it first comes, is full of colour and
surprise. Such, at an}^ rate, has been my experience, and
I never made an out-of-the-way early start without coming
upon one or more companions who gave me a new glimpse
into some corner of life, and whose experience I should
have been the poorer for having missed. My last ex-
perience in this matter is very recent. In the midst of
the wild days of last December I received an unexpected
summons on business to the north. My appointment was
for eleven o'clock on the morrow, 200 miles from London.
It was too late to make arrangements for leaving home at
once, so I resolved to start by the first morning train,
which leaves Euston Square at 5.15 a.m. Accordingly,
soon after four next morning I closed the house door gently
262 Vacation Rambles
behind me, and set out on my walk, not without a sense of
the self-approval and satisfaction which is apt to creep
over early risers, and others who pride themselves on
keeping ahead of their neighbours.
It was a fine wild morning, with half a gale of wind
blowing from the north-west, and driving the low rain-
clouds at headlong speed across the deep clear sky and
bright stars. The great town felt as fresh and sweet as a
country hillside. Not a soul in the streets but an occa-
sional solitary policeman, and here and there a scavenger
or two, plying their much-needed trade, for the wet mud
lay inches deep. I was early at the station, where a
sleepy clerk was just preparing to open the booking-offices,
and a couple of porters were watering and sweeping the
floor of the big hall. Soon my fellow-passengers began to
arrive, labouring men for the most part, with here and
there a clerk, or commercial traveller, muffled to the eyes.
Amongst them, as they gathered round the fire, or took
short restless walks up and down the platform, was one
who puzzled me not a little. He had arrived on foot just
before me, indeed I had followed him for the last quarter
of a mile through Euston Square, and had already begun
to speculate as to who he could be, and on what errand.
But now that I could get a deliberate look at him under
the lights in the hall, my curiosity was at once raised and
baffled. He was a strongly built, well-set young fellow of
five feet ten or eleven, with clear gray eyes, deep set
under very straight brows. His hair was dark, and would
have curled but that it was cropped too short. He was
clean shaved, so that one saw all the lower lines of his
face, which a thick nose, slightly turned up, just hindered
from being handsome. He wore a high sealskin cap, a
striped flannel shirt with turn down collars, and a slip-
knot tie with a rather handsome pin. His clothes were
good enough, but had a somewhat dissipated look, owing
perhaps to the fact that only one button of his waistcoat
was fastened, and that his boots, good broad double-soled
ones, were covered with dry mud. His whole luggage
Vacation Rambles 263
consisted of the travelling-bag he carried in his hand, one
of those elaborate affairs which generally involve a port-
manteau or two to follow, but swelled out of all gentility
and stuffed to bursting point.
An Englishman ? I asked myself. Well, yes, — at any
rate more like an Englishman than anything else. A
gentleman 1 Well, yes again, on the whole ; though not
of our conventional type — at any rate a man of some
education, and apparently a little less like the common
run of us than most one meets.
Here my speculations were cut short by the opening
of the ticket-window by the sleepy clerk, and the object
of them marched up and took a third-class ticket for
Liverpool. I followed his example. My natural aversion
to eating money raw in railway travelling inclining me to
such economy, apart from the interest which my problem
was exciting in my mind. I am bound to add that
nothing could be more comfortable than the carriages
provided on the occasion for the third-class passengers of
the N.W.R. I followed the sealskin cap and got into the
same carriage with its owner. As good luck would have
it, no one followed us. He put his bag down in a corner,
and stretched himself along his side of the carriage with his
head on it. I had time to look him well over again, and
to set him down in my own mind as a young English
engineer, who had been working on some continental
railway so long as to have lost his English identity some-
what, when he started up, rubbed his eyes, took a good
straight look at me, and asked if any one coming
from abroad could cut us off in the steamer that met
this train. I found at once that I was mistaken as to
nationality.
I answered that no one could cut us off, as there was
no straighter or quicker way of getting to Liverpool than
this ; but that he was mistaken in thinking that any
steamer met the train.
Well, he didn't know about meeting it, but anyway
there was a steamer which went right away from Liverpool
264 Vacation Rambles
about noon, for he had got his passage by her, which he
had bought at the tobacco-store near the station.
He handed his ticket for the boat to me, as if wishing
my opinion upon it, which I gave to the effect that it
seemed all right, adding that I did not know that tickets
could be bought about the streets as they could be in
America.
Well, he had thought it would save him time, perhaps
save the packet, as she might have sailed while he was
after his ticket in Liverpool, which town he didn't know
his way about. But now, couldn't any one from the
Continent cut her off 1 He had heard there was a route by
Chester and Holyhead, which would bring any one who
took it aboard of her at Qneenstown.
I answered that this was probably so, beginning to
doubt in my mind whether my companion might not, for
all his straightforward looks and ways, have come by
the bag feloniously. Could it be another great jewel
robbery ?
I don't know whether he noticed any doubtful look in
my eyes, but he added at once that he was on the straight
run from Heidelberg. He had come from there to London
in twenty-six hours.
I made some remark as to the beauty of Heidelberg,
and asked if he knew it well.
Why, yes, he said he ought to, for he had been a student
at the University there for the last nine months.
Why then was he on the straight run home ? I ventured
to ask. Term wasn't over ?
No ; term wasn't over ; but he had been arrested, and
didn't want to go to prison at Strasburg, where one
American student was in for about two years already.
But how did he manage to get off? I asked, now
thoroughly interested in his story.
Well, he had just run his bail. When he was arrested
he had sent for the doctor at whose house he lodged to
bail him out. That was what troubled him most. He
wouldn't have the Herr Doctor slipped up anyway. He
Vacation Rambles 265
was going to send the money directly he got home, and
there were things enough left of his to cover the money.
What was he arrested for?
For calling out a German student.
But I thought the German students were always fighting
duels.
So they were, but only with swords, which they were
always practising. They were so padded when they fought
that they could not be hurt except just in the face, and
the sword arm was so bandaged that there was no play at
all except from the wrist. You would see the German
students even when out walking, miles away from the town,
keeping playing away with their walking-sticks all the time,
so as to train their wrists.
What was his quarrel about 1
Well, it was just this. The American students, of
whom there were a large number there, kept pretty much
to themselves, and no love was lost between them and the
Germans. They had an American Club to which they all
belonged, just to keep them together and see any fellow
through who was in a scrape. He and some of the
American students were sitting in the beer garden, close
to a table of Germans. Forgetting the neighbourhood, he
had tilted his chair and leant back in it, and so come
against a German head. The owner jumped up, and a
sharp altercation followed, ending in the German's calling
him out with swords. This he refused, but sent a challenge
to fight with pistols by the President of the Club, a real
fine man, who had shot his two men down South before he
went to Heidelberg. The answer to this was his arrest,
and arrest was a very serious thing now. For some little
time since, a German and an American fought, with swords
first and then with pistols. The American had his face
cut open from the eye right down across the mouth, but
when it came to pistols he shot the German, who died in
an hour. So he was in jail, and challenging with pistols
had been made an offence punishable by imprisonment, and
that was no joke in a German military prison.
266 Vacation Rambles
Did he expect the University authorities would send
after him then ]
No ; but his folk were all in Germany for the winter.
He had a younger brother at Heidelberg who had taken
his bag down to the station for him, and would have let
his father know, as he had told him to do. If he had
telegraphed the old gentleman might come straight off and
stop him yet, but he rather guessed he would be so mad
he wouldn't come. No ; he didn't expect to see his folk
again for three or four years.
But why 1 After all, sending a challenge of which
nothing came was not so very heinous an offence.
Yes, but it was the second time. He had run from an
American university to escape expulsion for having set fire
to an outhouse. Then he went straight to New York,
which he wanted to see, and stopped till his money was all
sone. His father was mad enough about that.
I said plainly that I didn't wonder, and was going to
add something by way of improving the occasion, but for
a look of such deep sorrow which passed over the boy's
face that I thought his conscience might well do the work
better than I could.
He opened his bag and took out a photograph, and then
his six-shooter — a self-cocking German one, he said, which
was quicker and carried a heavier ball than any he had
seen in America ; and then his pipes and cigar tubes ; and
then he rolled a cigarette and lighted it ; and, as the dawn
was now come, began to ask questions about the country.
But all in vain ; back the scene he was running from came,
do what he would. His youngest brother, a little fellow
of ten, was down with fever. He had spoilt Christmas for
the whole family. It would cut them up awfully. But to
a suggestion that he should go straight back he could not
listen. No, he was going straight through to California,
the best place for him. He had never done any good yet,
but he was going to do it now. He had got a letter or
two to Californians from some of his fellow-students, which
would give him some opening. He wouldn't see his people
Vacation Rambles 267
for four or five years, till he got something to show them.
He would have to pitch right in, or else starve. He would
go right into the first thing that came along out there, and
make something.
As we got further down the line the morning cleared,
and we had many fellow-passengers ; but my young friend,
as I might almost call him by this time, stuck to me, and
seemed to get some relief by talking of his past doings and
future prospect. I found that he had been at Wurzburg
for a short time before going to Heidelberg, so had had a
student's experience of two of the most celebrated German
Universities. My own ideas of those seats of learning,
being for the most part derived from the writings of Mr.
Matthew Arnold, received, I am bound to own, rather
severe shocks from the evidently truthful experience of
one medical student.
He had simply paid his necessary florins (about £l
worth) for his matriculation fee, and double that sum for
two sets of lectures for which he entered. He had passed
no matriculation examination, or indeed any other ; had
attended lectures or not, just he pleased — about one in
three he put as his average — but there was no roll-call or
register, and no one that he knew of seemed to care the
least whether he was there or not. However, he seemed
to think that but for his unlucky little difficulty he could
easily at this rate have passed the examination for the
degree of doctor of medicines. The doctor's degree was
a mighty fine thing, and much sought after, but didn't
amount to much professionally, at least not in German}',
where the doctor has a State examination to pass after he
has got his degree. But in America, or anywhere else, he
believed they could just practise on a German M.D. degree,
and he knew of one Herr Doctor out West who was about
as fit to take hold of any sick fellow as he was himself.
Oh, Matthew, Matthew, my mentor ! When I got home I
had to take down thy volume on Universities in Germany,
and restore my failing faith by a glance at the Appendix,
giving a list of the courses of lectures by Professors, Privab-
268 Vacation Rambles
docenten, and readers of the University of Berlin during
one winter, in which the Medical Faculty's subjects occupy
seven pages ; and to remind myself, that the characteristics
of the German Universities are " Lehrfreiheit und Lem-
freiheii," "Liberty for the teacher, and liberty for the
learner " ; also that " the French University has no liberty,
and the English Universities have no sciences ; the German
Universities have both." Too much liberty of one kind
this student at any rate bore witness to, and in one of his
serious moments was eloquent on the danger and mischief
of the system, so far as his outlook had gone.
By the time our roads diverged, the young runaway
had quite won me over to forget his escapades, by his frank
disclosures of all that was passing in his mind of regret and
tenderness, hopefulness and audacity ; and I sorrowed for
a few moments on the platform as the sealskin cap dis-
appeared at the window of the Liverpool carriage, from
which he waved a cheery adieu.
As I walked towards the carriage to go on my own way,
I found myself regretting that I should see his ruddy face
no more, and wishing him all success "in that new world
which is the old," for which he was bound, with no posses-
sions but his hand-bag and self-reliance to make his way
with. I might have sat alone for thrice as long with an
English youngster, in like case, without knowing a word
of his history ; but then, such history could never have
happened to an Englishman, for he never would have run
his bail, and would have gone to prison and served his
time as a matter of course.
How much each nation has to learn of the other ! But
I trust that by this time my young friend has seen to it
that the good-natured Herr Doctor who w r ent bail for him
hasn't " slipped up anyway."
SOUTHPORT
22nd If arch.
I wonder if you will care to take a seaside letter, at
this busiest time of the year ? Folk have no business to
Vacation Rambles 269
be " on the loaf " before Easter, I readily admit. Still,
there is much force and good-sense, I have always held, in
that tough, old regicide Major-General Ludlow's action,
when he found England under Cromwell too narrow to
hold him. He migrated to Switzerland, and character-
istically changed his family motto to " Ubi libertas, ibi
patria" ("Where I can have my own way, there is my
country ") or (if I may be allowed a free rendering to fit
the occasion), "Whenever man can loaf, then is long
vacation."
But my motive for writing is really of another kind.
In these later years, a large and growing minority of my
personal friends and acquaintances seem to be afflicted with
that demon called Neuralgia, — some kind of painful
affection connected with the nerves of the head and face,
which makes the burden of life indefinitely heavier to carry
than it has any right to be. To all such I feel bound to say,
Give this place a trial in your first leisure. In one case,
at any rate, and that an apparently chronic one, in which
every east wind, and almost every sudden change of
temperature, brought with it acute suffering, I have seen
with my own eyes a complete cure effected by a few days
in this air. The experiment was tried three months since,
and from that time the demon seems to have been exorcised,
and has been quite unable to return, though we have had
a full average in these parts of sudden changes of
temperature, — east winds, cold rains, and the other
amenities of early spring in England.
Can I account for this ] Well, so far as I can judge,
the peculiar conformation of the shore must have much to
say to it. From the open window where I am sitting,
there lies between me and the sea (it being low water) an
almost level stretch of sand of more than half a mile in
depth. Beyond that there is a narrow strip of sea, on
which a fleet of tiny fishermen's craft, with their ruddy-
brown sails, are plying their trade ; and again, beyond that,
between channel and open sea, is another long sand-bank.
Now I am told, and see no reason to doubt, that the evapora-
270 Vacation Rambles
tion from this great expanse of wet sand is charged with
double the amount of ozone which would rise from the like
area of salt-water. But whatever the cause, the fact stands
as I have stated above. In another hour or two the sea will
be close up to these windows, lapping against the sea-wall,
and spoiling the view for the time, but, happily, only for a
short time. For while it is up, there is nothing but very
shallow, muddy water to be seen, on which the faithful old
sun, try as he will, can paint no pictures. Whereas at low
tide, the colours of these sandy wastes — the steely gleam
of the wet parts, the bright yellow of the dry, and the
warm and rich tints of brown of the intermediate, and the
quaint, black line of the pier, running out across them all
till it reaches the pale blue of the channel, where the
fishing-boats all lie at anchor round the pier-head at sunset
— are one perpetual feast, even to the untrained eye.
What the delight must be to a painter, when the level sun
turns the blacks into deep purples, and glorifies all the
yellows and browns, and gives the steely gleams a baleful
and cruel glint, I can only guess, unless, indeed, it should
make him hang himself, in despair of reproducing them on
mortal canvas. That long, black pier is our favourite
place of resort. Probably the ozone is stronger there than
elsewhere. It is three-quarters of a mile long, and at the
end, at noon, a most attractive, daily performance comes off
gratis. At that hour the gulls are fed by an official of the
pier company, and afterwards, at intervals, by children,
who bring scraps of viands in their pockets for this purpose.
I am not defending the practice, which tends, no doubt, to
pauperise a number of these delightful birds. I have
watched them carefully, and never seen one of them go off
to earn his honest, daily fish. There they sit lightly on
the water, with heads turned to the pier-head, and float
past with the tide, rising for a short flight back again, as
it carries them too far past to see when the doles are
beginning to be served. When these begin, they are all
in the air, wheeling and crossing each other in perfect
flight to get the proper swooping-point. It seems to be a
Vacation Rambles 271
rule of the game that they pick up the fragments in their
swoop, for when this is neatly done by any one, the rest
leave him alone, though he may carry off a larger prize
than he is able to swallow on the wing. But in a high wind
there is trouble. Not one in a dozen of them can then be
sure of his prey in his swoop, and after one or two attempts
the greedy ones alight and attack the viands on the water.
But this seems to be against the rules of the game, and
instantly others alight by the side of the transgressor, and
strive eagerly for whatever of the desired morsel is still
outside his yellow beak. I noted with pleasure that there
are generally a few who will take no part in these
squabbles, but if they failed in their swoop, soared up
again with dignity, to wait for another chance. These
must, I take it, be undemoralised gulls, from a distance.
Always play your game fair, or there will be trouble,
whether amongst birds or men.
At other seaside places the shallowness of the sand
limits the pure delight of children in their castle-building.
Here it seems boundless. I saw one sturdy urchin
yesterday throwing out stoneless sand from a hole some
four feet deep. The castles and engineering works are
therefore on a splendid scale, several of them from five to
ten yards across, inside which bits of old spars (portions, I
fear, of wrecks) are utilised for causeways and bridges.
The infant builders are ambitious, for I have seen frequent
attempts, not wholly unsuccessful, at putting sand steeples
on the churches. These higher efforts were all made by
girls, who, indeed, I regret to say, seemed to do not only
the decorative, but the substantial work. The boys
employed themselves mainly in creeping through the holes
which the girls had dug under the spars, to represent
bridges, and in knocking down the boundary walls. Is
this a sign of our topsy-turvy times 1 In my day, we boys
did all the building and engineering, and the girls used to
come and sit on our walls, and destroy our castles. On
this highest part of the sands, the children's playground,
there stand also certain skeletons of booths, to be covered
272 Vacation Rambles
with canvas, I presume, in the summer, for the sale of
ginger-beer and cakes. These, the largest especially, some
nine feet high, attracted the boys, several of whom essayed
to reach the highest cross-bar. Only one succeeded while
I watched, a born sailor-boy, who was not to be foiled, and
succeeded in getting on to it. There he sat, and looked
scornfully down on the sand-diggers, in the temper, no
doubt, of the chorus of the old sea song —
We jolly sailor boys a-sitting up aloft,
And the land-lubbers funking down below.
After a time he descended, and, looking for a few moments
at the diggers, went straight away across the sands towards
the sea. I saw that he had only a wooden spade, while
most of theirs had iron heads.
There is another kind of amusement which is strange
to me, being necessarily confined to great expanses of sand.
A boat on wheels, called the Flying Dutchman, careers
along at a splendid pace when there is wind enough, and I
am told can tack handily, and never runs into the sea. If
it did, it would not matter, as it must at once upset in
such case in very shoal water. When the Koyal Society
was here, several eminent philosophers were reported to
be disporting themselves in the Flying Dutchman, when
the President, Professor Cayley, called on them to read
papers, or make promised speeches.
This flat sandy coast is far from being so innocent as it
looks. There are the wrecks of two vessels in sight even
now. One of these, I hear, it took the lifeboat fourteen
hours' continuous hard work to reach, and they brought off
every man of the crew, twenty-five in number — a feat
deserving wider fame than it has attained. They must be
glorious sea-worthies, these Lancashire fishermen ! Of the
fine public buildings, the four-miles tramway, the Free
Library, Botanic Gardens, and the rest, I need not speak.
Lord Derby's mot on opening the Botanic Gardens is
enough, — that the Southport folk can skate on real ice in
July, and sit under palm-trees at Christmas. But I may
Vacation Rambles 273
say that the esplanade is a grand course for tricyclers and
bicyclers, who seem fond of challenging and running races
with tradesmen's carts — a somewhat risky operation for
other vehicles and passengers.
One word, however, before I close, about the most
striking of the churches, St. Andrew's. I was attracted to
it by its good proportions, and the stone tracery of several
of the windows, reminding one of the patterns of the early
decorated period of Gothic art. It can seat some 1500
people on the floor, there being no galleries. I am sorry
to say, however, that appearances are deceitful. It is of
no use to have fine proportions and good decoration if
they won't stand ; and unhappily, although the church is
only twelve years old, the cleristory walls have been blown
out of the perpendicular, so that the whole nave roof has
to come off that they may be solidly rebuilt. What would
an old monkisk architect have said to such a catastrophe ?
The more's the pity, inasmuch as the necessary closing of
the church is going to shelve, probably for months, the
most striking preacher I have heard this month of Sundays.
I first learnt, sir, in your columns the golden rule, that
during prayers the worshipper is responsible for keeping
up his own attention, while at sermon-time it is the
parson's business. Well, I have been to St. AndreAv's for
the last three Sundays, and during sermons, none of which
have lasted less than half an hour, have neither gone to
sleep, nor thought about anything but what the preacher
was saying. I suspect it is (as Apollo says of Theodore
Parker, in the " Fable for Critics ") that —
This is what makes him the crowd -drawing preacher,
There's a background of God to each hard-working feature,
Every word that he speaks has been fierily furnaced
In the blast of a life that has struggled in earnest.
Whatever be the cause, however, there is the fact ; and I
own I am somewhat surprised, being rather curious about
such matters, that I had never heard the name of
Prebendary Cross before I happened to come to this place.
T
274 Vacation Rambles
A Village Festival
" Pan is dead ! " So, at least, those who claim to be
teachers of us English on such subjects have told us ; and
if our poets cannot be trusted about them, who can 1 The
present writer, at any rate, does not pretend to an opinion
whether Pan is dead, or, indeed, whether he was ever
alive. But if so, he ought to have kept alive, for never
surely was his special business so flourishing in our country
as in these last days. All round the Welsh border on
both sides there is not a hamlet which is not indulging in
its "Lupercalia" in these summer days, in spite of the
cold and wet which have inopportunely come upon us.
For the most part, these " feasts of Pan " are almost
monotonously like one another ; but I have just returned
from one which had characteristics of its own — a pleasing
variety, and creditable, I think, to gallant little Wales, for
the scene of it was over the border. My attention was
called to it by a large red bill at our station, announcing
that, on the 9th inst. the annual festival of the Gresford
Ladies' Club would be held, for which return tickets
might be had at tempting rates ; and further, that " no
rifle-galleries, or stalls used for the sale of nuts and
oranges, will be allowed to be put up in the village or
highways on the day." Why should a ladies' club invite
me, and all men, by large red bill, to be present at their
festival, and at the same time deprive me of the chance of
indulging in the favourite feast pastime of these parts 1 I
resolved to satisfy myself; and reaching the pretty
station, in due course found myself on the platform with
perhaps a dozen women of all ranks and ages — evidently
members of the club, for each of them wore a white scarf
over the right shoulder, and carried a blue wand with a
nosegay at the top. Following admiringly up the steep
hill with other spectators, I saw them enter a wicket-gate
under an arch of flowers, and remained outside, where the
brass band of the county yeomanry were making most
Vacation Rambles 275
energetic music. Presently the gate opened, and a
procession of the members emerged two-and-two, and,
headed by the band in full blast, marched, a dainty
procession, each one white-scarfed and carrying a nosegay-
topped wand, to the parish church hard by on the hill-top.
It was a unique procession, so far as my experience goes.
First came the squire's wife, the club President, with the
senior member, followed by another lady, I believe from
the rectory, with the member next in seniority. These
two, both past eighty, I remarked, instead of the white
scarf crossing the shoulder and looped at the waist with
blue, wore large white handkerchiefs, trimmed with blue,
over both shoulders, shawl-wise. This I found was the
old custom, the regular members formerly wearing the
shawl, the honoraiy members the scarf, for distinction's
sake. Now, all members, regular and honorary alike, wear
the scarf. We are levelling up fast, and I own I regret it,
in this matter of dress. As a boy, I was in this part of
Wales, and almost every woman on holidays wore the red
cloak and high black hat, and looked far better, I think,
than their descendants at this Gresford Club fete, though
several of these were as well dressed as the squire's wife
and daughters. I followed the procession into church, as
did most of the crowd through which they passed, one man
only refusing to join in my hearing, on the ground that he
had been already to one service too many. He had got
married there, his neighbour explained, and his wife was
in the procession. The service was short and well chosen,
with a good, sound ten-minutes sermon at the end, and
then the procession re-formed, the band still leading, and
marched to tea in the big schoolroom facing the churchyard.
" Scholae elymosynse Domin?e Margarettae Strode, fundatae
1725, ad pauperes ejus sumptibus erudiendos," I read over
the door. I notice that the Welsh are rather eriven to
Latin inscriptions : can it be in token of defiance to
vernacular English %
During the tea-hour I had the pleasure of exploring
church and churchyard, the former a large and fine
276 Vacation Rambles
specimen of the later perpendicular, but containing relics
of painted glass of a much earlier date, probably thirteenth
century. Portions of this, of a fine straw-colour, the
Rector says, are invaluable, the art being lost. I wonder
what Mr. Powell would say to that 1 The churchyard is
glorious with its yews, more than twenty grand trees, and
the grandfather of them the largest but one, if not the
largest, in the Kingdom. He measures 29 feet 6 inches
round 6 feet from the ground, and is confidently affirmed by
Welsh experts (who have duly noted it in the parish register)
to be 1400 years old. Without supposing that Merlin
reposed in his shade, one cannot look at him in his glorious
old age and doubt that he must have been a stout tree in
Plantagenet times, and furnished bow-staves for Welshmen
who marched behind Fluellen to the French wars.
Presently the band struck up again, and the procession
returned to the wicket-gate, through which I now gained
an entrance on payment of Is. towards the club funds, one
of the best investments of the kind I have ever made, for
inside is the most perfect miniature village green I should
think in the world, take it all in all. It is a natural
terrace about one hundred yards long, by (perhaps) forty
broad, on the side of the steep, finely wooded hill, with
the station down below, and the church and village above.
The valley, which runs up into the Welsh hills to the west,
is here narrow, with a bright trout-stream dancing along
between emerald meadows out into the great Cheshire
plain, over which, in the distance, rise the cathedral towers
and the castle and spires of Chester. One can fancy the
hungry eyes with which many a Welshman has looked
over that splendid countryside from this perch on the hill-
side when Hugh Lupus and his successors were keeping
the border, with short shrift for cattle-lifters. It is well
worth the while of any of your readers who may be passing
Gresford Station this autumn, to stop over a train, and go
up and spend an hour there. But I must get back to the
ladies' club, who now, at 6 P.M., opened the three hours'
dance on the green, the great feature of the gathering. It
Vacation Rambles 277
began with a country-dance, at which we males could only-
gaze and admire. As before, the squire's wife and the senior
member led oft', and went down the thirty or forty couples.
What wonderful women are these Welsh ! I was fascinated
by the next senior, a dear old soul, who had only missed
this dance twice in more than sixty years, and was in such
a hurry to get under way, that she started before the
leading couple had got properly ahead, rather thereby
confusing the subsequent saltations. When the music at
last stopped, she sat herself on a bench, a picture of joyous
old asre, and declared that if she had been a rich woman,
she should have spent all her substance in keeping a band.
After the country-dance came polkas, in which I noted
that for some time the men, by way of reprisals, I suppose,
danced together ; but this did not last long, and presently
the couples were sorted in the usual manner, and when
the station-bell Avarned me to speed down the hill, I left
them all as busy on the green as the elves (perhaps) ma}-
be in the moonlight, or Pan's troop in the days before his
lamented decease. On my way home I mused on the
cheering evidence the day had afforded of the healthy
progress of the great task which has been laid on this
generation, and which it seems to be taking hold of so
strenuously and hopefully. I do not know that I ever
saw so entirely satisfactory a blending of all classes in
common enjoyment, w T hich to some extent I attribute to
the custom of the procession, and the sorting of honorary
and regular members above noticed. During the whole
afternoon I never heard a word which might not have been
spoken in a drawing-room, and in spite of the rigorous
exclusion of tobacco, there was no lack of young men. I
question whether it would be possible to see the like in
any exclusive gathering, either of the classes or the masses.
The club is as prosperous financially, I am glad to hear, as
it is socially, having a reserve fund of some £600, while
the subscriptions are very moderate. No doubt the political
and industrial atmosphere is dark with heavy clouds both
at home and abroad ; but I do begin to think that this
278 Vacation Rambles
white lining of a truer and fuller blending of our people
than has ever been known before in England, or anywhere
else, is going to do more than compensate for whatever
troubles may be in store for us from wars or other
convulsions, and that we shall be in time to meet them as
a united people.
Then let us pray that come it may —
As come it will for a' that —
That man to man, the warld o'er,
Shall brithers be for a' that.
The "Victoria," New Cut
Of all the healthy signs of real social progress in this
remarkable age, I know of none more striking, or, I will
add, more thankworthy in a small way, than the con-
trast of the present condition of the big People's Theatre in
Southwark with that which middle-aged men can remember.
Probably many of my readers who in the fifties and sixties
held it to be part of the whole duty of man to attend the
University boat-race at Putney, or the Oxford and Cambridge
match at Lord's, will be able to call up in their memories the
" Vic." of those days. For my own part, I always felt that
the big costermonger's theatre suffered unfairly in reputation
— as many folk and places before it have done — for the
casual notice of a man of genius. " Give us the Charter,"
Charles Kingsley makes his tailor-hero exclaim in 1848,
" and we'll send workmen into Parliament who shall find
out whether something better can't be put in the way of
the boys and girls in London who live by theft and prosti-
tution, than the tender mercies of the Victoria." I do not
pretend to anything more than a casual acquaintance with
the " Vic." in those days ; but my memory would not bear
out Parson Lot in denouncing it as " a licensed pit of dark-
ness." That description would far better designate the
Cider Cellars, the Coal Hole, and other fashionable resorts
Vacation Rambles 279
on the north side of the Thames, in which a working man's
fustian jacket and corduroys were never seen. I should
say that one evening spent at Evans's in those days, or at
the mock Court (the judge and jury) presided over by
Baron Nicholson, as that rotund old cynic was called, would
have done any youngster far more harm than half a dozen
at the " Vic." At the one you might sit smoking cigars
and drinking champagne, if you were fool enough, and hear
everything that was sacred and decent slily or openly
ridiculed and travestied, in the company of M.P.'s, barristers,
and others, all well-dressed people. At the " Vic." you
could rub shoulders with costers and longshoremen, noisy,
rowdy, and prone to fight on the slightest provocation,
while the entertainment was more than coarse enough,
but quite free from the subtle poison of a crim.-con. trial
presided over by Baron xsicholson. With this saving,
however, I am bound to admit that the old " Vic." was not
a place which could have been looked on without serious
misgivings by any one in the remotest degree responsible
for peace or decency in South London. The influence
which it exercised, to put it mildly, though undoubtedly
powerful, could by no possibility have had any elevating
effect on the intellect or morals of any human being ; but
for all that, it was always a favourite place of resort, and
had a strong hold on the dense population who earn a
scanty and precarious living in the New Cut and the Old
Kent Road. How it was that the lease of the old " Vic,"
with seventeen years still to run, came into the market
some eight years back, I am not aware ; but so it happened,
and it was purchased by a financial Company, who, with
the best intentions, embarked on the risky experiment of
running the "Royal Victoria Hall," as it was now called,
as a coffee-tavern and place of entertainment, against the
neighbouring music-halls in which drink was sold. In
eight months the Company lost £2800, and the Victoria
was closed, with every chance of drifting back, on the next
change of ownership, into the old ruts. Happily for South
London, a better fate was in store for the " Vic," for there
280 Vacation Rambles
were those who had eyes to see its value if properly handled,
not, indeed, as a commercial speculation, but as a power
for lifting the social life of the neighbourhood on to a higher
level. A committee was formed, with the late Mr. Samuel
Morley as chairman, and Miss Cons as honorary secretary
and manager, a guarantee fund was raised, and the Hall
reopened. It has been a hard fight ; but with a chairman
whose speech in the darkest hour rang, " We don't mean to
let this thing fall to the ground," and a lady of unsurpassed
experience and devotion amongst the poor, whose whole
life was from the first freely and loyally given to the work,
the field has been won. I say deliberately "won," and if
any one doubts my word, let him walk over Waterloo
Bridge any evening (for the "Vic." is always open), and
look at this thing fairly ; let him go into the coffee-tavern,
the theatre, the big billiard and smoking-rooms, the reading
and class-rooms at the top, and the gymnasium in the base-
ment, and keep his ears and eyes wide open all the time, —
and then go home and thank God that such work is going
on in the very quarter of our huge city in which the need
is sorest. I say, let him go any evening, but for choice I
would advise a Tuesday, for on Tuesdays the " Penny
Science Lectures " are given, which are, of course, less
popular than the variety entertainments and the ballad
concerts which occur whenever the funds allow, or some
first-rate artist, such as Sims Reeves, volunteers to come
and sing to the New Cut. To return to the "Penny
Science Lectures," the wonder is, not that eminent men
should be ready to go over to Southwark and give them
without payment — that note of our day has become too
common to surprise — but that an average of over five
hundred, mostly of the gamin age, from the New Cut,
should be ready to pay their penny and come, and listen,
and appreciate.
It was on May Day that I visited the old " Vic," almost
by chance, and without a notion of what I was likely to
see or hear. The lecture was on " The Foundation-Stones
of London," and proved to be a geological, not an archeeo-
Vacation Rambles 281
logical one. Mr. H. Kimber, M.P. for the neighbouring
division of South London, was in the chair, and the lecturer
was Professor Judd, F.R.S., who, in a clear, terse address,
aided by excellent dissolving views projected by lime-light
on the huge drop-scene of the stage, showed the gravel,
clay, chalk, and lower strata, with the fossils found in each,
with admirable clearness. The big theatre was not, of
course, full, but there was a large audience, quite up to the
average of upwards of five hundred, and any one at all used
to such scenes could see how keenly interested they were,
and how quick to seize the lecturer's points. Most of the
men were in their working clothes, but clean and brushed
up, and no lecturer could have wished for a better audience.
The only thing that brought back to my mind the slightest
remembrance of the old "Vic." was, that by a coster in the
centre of the front row of the pit sat a big brindled bull-
terrier of the true fighting type. Strange to say, he
remained looking at the views with perfect gravity till the
lecturer made his bow, when he jumped quietly down at
once, and trotted about the pit to find friends, as though
he had learned all he could, and wanted to talk it over
with pals, but was not interested in the formal vote-of-
thanks business. On the three following Tuesdays, as the
bills informed me, "The Moon," "The Circulation of the
Blood,'"' and "The Backbone of England," were the sub-
jects, all, again, illustrated by dissolving views. And
these lectures are kept up on every Tuesday, such speakers
as the Dean of Westminster, Sir John Lubbock, Professor
Seeley, taking their turn with the purely scientific men,
and drawing as good attendances.
You must find room for one specimen of the quick
humour of this New Cut audience. Dr. Carpenter, in one
of his experiments, dispensed with a prism, explaining to
his audience that the objects would now appear inverted,
and they must "put them right way up " in their minds, —
" or stand on yer 'eds," came the prompt suggestion from
the gallery. Out of these lectures science-classes have
grown in the last three years, encouraged by a committee,
282 Vacation Rambles
selected from the Council, of some hundred ladies and
gentlemen. Of these I have no space to speak ; but one
fact will indicate the thoroughness of the work done at
them. Dr. Fleming's report for 1887 tells us that out of
forty students who went in for examination in the several
classes, seven obtained first-class, and eighteen second-class
certificates. I have only touched on what, after all, is an
outgrowth, which has developed naturally from the original
scheme, but was no part of it. This was rational and
hearty and clean amusement. The Council were deter-
mined to test whether an answer could not be found to the
straight question of " Poor Potlover " in Punch : —
"Where's this cheap and respectable fun
To be spotted by me ? There's the kink !
Don't drink ? All serene, if you'll p'int me to sunimat that's better
than drink.
To that " summat " the Victoria Hall Council, all honour
to them, have pointed with quite encouraging success.
There is no department of the Hall which is not in a healthy
condition, and the fact that £1800 was taken in pennies
and twopences for admissions during 1887, though the Hall
was closed in the summer for repairs, may well encourage
the Council and their devoted manager to take courage
and persevere in their present effort to purchase the free-
hold as a fitting memorial to Mr. Samuel Morley. There
was no part of his wide work of philanthropy which that
fine old English merchant valued more than this. He
supported it lavishly during his life, and had he lived till
the freehold came into the market, there would have been
little difficulty in raising the necessary sum, £17,000. Of
this, £3500 has already been promised by members of the
Council, and 1 cannot believe that the opportunity will be
allowed to slip, and the deposit-money of £500 already
paid to be forfeited. It seems that the Charity Com-
missioners have let it be known that the old " Vic." will be
accepted by them as one of the People's Palaces for South
London, if the freehold can only be obtained ; and I cannot
Vacation Rambles 283
for a moment doubt that this will be done if the facts are
only fairly known. The teetotalers ought to do all that
remains to be done, in gratitude for the best story in their
quiver, which they owe to the "Vic." A short meeting is
held, called the "Temperance Hour," outside the house on
Friday nights, at which working men are the speakers.
One of them, a carter, stuck fast at the bottom of a hill in
the suburbs one day. Another man who was passing,
unhitched his own team and helped him up. On an offer
to pay being made, the good Samaritan declared he had
been paid beforehand. " Why, I never saw you before in
my life, did I?" "I've seen you, though," said the other;
"I heard you speak one night outside the 'Vic.,' and I
went in and took the pledge — me and my family has been
happy ever since ! "
Whitby and the Herring Trade
30th August 1888.
" Any fresh herrings for breakfast, sir 1 Four a penny
this morning, sir ! " Such was my greeting this day, as I
turned out of my lodgings for an early lungs'-full of this
inspiring air. I had almost broken out on that fish-wife
with, " Why, you abominable old woman, you asked me
twopence for three yesterday " ; but restraining my natural,
if not righteous indignation, I replied meekly, "Four a
penny! Why, what makes them so cheap, ma'am?"
" T' boats all full — ha'n't had sech a catch this summer,"
which news gladdened me almost as much as if the catch
had been my own. No one can watch these grand fellows,
the Dogger Bank fishermen, and not feel a sort of blood-
relationship to them, and the keenest sympathy with their
heroic business on the great waters. So, thinks I, I'll go
down to the quay directly after breakfast, and see them
all at their best, those hard-handed, big-bearded, soft-hearted
sea-kin°;s from all the East and South Coast towns of
England, from Sunderland to Penzance. When they are
284 Vacation Rambles
such grand, silent, kindly creatures on every day in the
week, even when the catch has been poor and light, what
will they be to-day 1
I had spent most of my mornings for some days on the
quay, watching the fish-market there with much interest.
It goes on nearly all the forenoon on the pavement, just
above that part of the harbour-wall to which the herring-
boats run when they come in from their night's work on
the Dogger Bank. A simple, hand-to-mouth kind of
business, the auction ; but well adapted, at any rate, to
clear the boats, and get their daily contents to market in
the quickest and cheapest way. As soon as a boat comes
to the quay, one of the crew (generally numbering five
men, or four men and a boy) comes on shore with a basket
half-full of herrings, and turns them out on the pavement.
The fish-broker who acts for that boat comes up, looks at
the sample, aud makes an offer for the ship's take by "the
last," or ten thousand. If this is accepted, the unloading
begins at once ; but if not, as is oftenest the case, the take
is put up to auction. The broker rings a bell, which soon
brings round him the seven or eight other brokers like
himself, and other buyers (if any) who are within hearing.
Up goes the first last of ten thousand at once, and no time
is lost or talk thrown away. In very few minutes the
whole is sold, and a cart or lorry from the railway is
standing by to carry off the barrels in which the herrings
are packed then and there. Now, on the previous day
I had heard the prices ranging from £7: 10s. to £8 for
"the last," and had not remarked that only some six boats
of the whole fleet had come back from the fishinii-irrounds,
and that none of these had made anything like a big catch.
Consequently, I came down prepared to hear something
like the same prices ruling, and to see most of the crews
drawing at least from £15 to £20 for their night's work.
Well, in a long life I don't remember ever to have been
more hopelessly wrong or unpleasantly surprised. I could
see at once that all was not right by the faces of the men
and women in the small groups scattered about the market,
Vacation Rambles 285
•which now drew together as the broker's bell rang for the
sale of the herrings, which lay, a lovety, gleaming mass, at
least three feet deep in the uncovered hold of the Mary
Jane, as she rocked gently on the harbour swell, some
twenty feet down below us. I could scarcely believe my
ears as I heard the bids slowly rising by 5s. at a time till
they reached 30s. the last, and there stopped dead. The
hammer fell, and the whole catch of the Mary Jane
passed to the purchaser in about two minutes at that
figure. The next boat, and next but one, did no better.
Broker after broker knocked his client's catch down at 30s.
Once only I heard an advance on that figure, and this
was by private contract. The handsome Hercules, in long
leather boots and blue jersey, who represented one of the
Whitby boats, appealed in my hearing to the broker, who
relented with no very good grace, and agreed to give £2
per last of ten thousand of the catch of Hercules's boat.
It was a depressing sight, I must own, even in the bright
sunshine of this most picturesque of English harbours, and
Sam Weller's earnest inquiry to his master, " Ain't some-
body to be wopped for this 1 " rose vividly in my mind as
the fittest comment on the whole business. Just then a
tug which had been getting up steam was ready to leave
the harbour, and two Hartlepool smacks, whose freights of
herrings were still unsold, hitched on, to be towed out to
sea and then run home, in the hope of finding a better
market in the Durham port. An old salt stood next me,
whose fishing days were well over, and who had just taken
a good bite of the blackest kind of pigtail to comfort
himself. I looked inquiringly at him as the tug steamed
out between the two lighthouses, with the smacks in tow ;
but he shook his head sorrowfully. " Well, but they can't
do worse than here," I remonstrated; "herrings maybe
scarcer in the colliery district." He jerked his head
towards the little group of brokers and buyers, — "They'd
know the prices at Hartlepool in five minutes," he said.
This telegraphing was to his mind the worst thing that
had happened for fishermen in his time. " Did prices
286 Vacation Rambles
often go up and down like this ? " I asked. " Yes," and
worse than this. He had known them as low as 15s. and
as high as £15 within a few days. No, he couldn't see
what was " to odds it " much for the better. Last time
he was across at Liverpool he had stopped at a big fish-
shop where he saw barrels standing which he recognised.
" What's the price of those herrings 1- " he asked. " Eight
for Gd." the man answered. " So I told him I saw they
was from Whitby, and that he got them at Whitby for
6d. a hundred."
Whitby and the Herring Trade.
31s/ August 1888.
I had got thus far last night, and posted down again
early this morning to the market, which has a sombre kind
of attraction for me. Only two boats in, with light catches
of from one and a half to two lasts each. The first sold
at £5 : 5s., which price the second boat refused. Theirs
were a first-rate lot, and they shouldn't go under £6, for
which they were holding out when I had to leave, and
there seemed to be a general belief that they would get it.
This was puzzle enough for any man, to see under his own
eyes the same fish sold on three consecutive summer days
for £7 :10s., £1 :10s., and £5 :5s. ! — a sort of thing no fellow
can understand. To add to my bewilderment, I learnt
that at Great Grimsby yesterday (the £1 : 10s. day here)
the last had sold for upwards of £15 ! So that my old
salt's view as to the telegraph doesn't quite hold water,
and the two smacks which shook the water off their bows
and sailed for Hartlepool, may have made a good day's
work of it, after all. Indeed, a sailor on the quay declared
that they had sold at £5, so that, after paying £2 apiece
for the tug, which had towed them all the way, they still
got £3 a last, or double the price they would have realised
at Whitby. " So it comes to this, that the more fish you
catch, the less pay you get," I said to my informant.
"Yes," he seemed to think that was mostly the case,
Vacation Rambles 287
adding that to his mind it was the railways that made all
the money out of fish —
Sic vos non vobis mellificatis apes.
It is an old story enough, but scarcely less true or sad
in 1888 than when most of the world's hardest work was
done by slaves. However there are, happily, signs in the
air that, here in England at any rate, we are waking up to
the truth, that if we can find no better way of organising
industry than competition run mad, we are going to have
real bad times. Royal Commissions on the sweating
system ; Toynbee Hall interventions in great strikes ;
co-operative effort springing up all over the country, and
finding its most zealous and devoted advocates at least as
much amongst those who don't work with their hands as
those who do, — all go to prove that the reign of king
laissez faire, with his golden rule of "cash payment the sole
nexus between man and man," is over. Indeed, our danger
may soon be from too much meddling with and mothering
industry. Nevertheless, no one can spend a few hours on
the quay here in the herring season and not long for some
one — scholar, philanthropist, political economist (new style),
co-operator — to come along and teach these fine fellows to
read their sphinx riddle. It would not be, surely, such a
difficult task as it looks at first sight. There is no need to
begin with the vast herring-fishing industry, with its distant
markets at Billingsgate, Liverpool, and Manchester. The
reform misdit be°;in at once on a modest scale. Beside the
herrings, one sees every morning other fish lying on the
quay — skate, cod, ling, whiting, rock-salmon — brought in
by the smaller and less venturesome boats by dozens, not
by lasts of ten thousand. Take the cod as the most
valuable of these fish. I saw four fine cod-fish sold by
auction yesterday on the quay for 5s. 3d. Within a few
hundred yards, and all over the town, cod was selling at the
shops at 6d. the pound. Surely a very moderate amount
of organising ability would enable those who catch these fish
to get the retail prices prevailing on the same day in the
288 Vacation Rambles
home market, and then the experience gained might assist
materially in the solution of the larger problem.
Meantime, besides the almost unique interest and
beauty of its surroundings, — the steep cliffs, on which the
quaint old red-roofed houses, with their wooden balconies,
are piled in most picturesque and unaccountable groups ;
the grand old abbey ruin looking clown from the highest
point ; the swing-bridge between the two harbours, and
the estuary beyond, running up into a fine amphitheatre
of green meadow and dark wood, dotted with village
churches and old windmills, and backed by the high
moors, — there is a joyous side to Whitby harbour, even on
days when the market goes most against the Dogger Bank
fishermen. If the fathers have too often to eat sour
grapes, their children's teeth are'not set on edge, — such
merry, well-fed, bare-footed urchins of both sexes I never
remember to have seen elsewhere. They swarm, out of
school hours, along the quays ; skim up and down the water-
worn harbour-walls wherever there is a rope hanging ; run
over the herring boats lying side by side, as soon as the
freights are cleared ; and toboggan down the boat slides
at the gangways, dragging themselves along on their
stomachs when these are not slippery enough for the usual
method of descent. There seems, too, to be a large supply
of old rickety tubs kept for their special use ;' for all day
long you see two or three of them scrambling into one of
these, and sculling about the harbour, no man hindering
or apparently noticing them. Finer training for their
future life would be hard to find, and one cannot help
doubting as one sees their straight toes, as handy almost
as fingers in their climbing feats, whether the last word
has been spoken as to clothing the human foot, at any
rate up to the age of ten or twelve. It is not often,
I think, that one comes on early surroundings and
heroes entirely suited to each other ; but Whitby's hero
— patron saint I had nearly called him — could have
found no such suitable place to have been raised in all the
world round. James Cook was born in a neighbouring
Vacation Rambles 289
village, but first apprenticed on board a Whitby collier,
and to the last days of his life retained a most loving re-
membrance of the old town. Every one of his famous ships,
the Endeavour, the Resolution, and the Discovery, were built
at Whitby. The house of his master, Mr. Walker, with
whom he lived during his apprenticeship as a sailor lad,
and to whom most of his letters were written after he
had mapped the Quebec reaches of the St. Lawrence
under the fire of the French guns, and was a gold-
medallist of the Royal Society and the most famous of
eighteenth century navigators, is still fondly pointed out
in a narrow street running down to the inner harbour.
Sunday by the Sea
Whitby, 7th September 1888.
We saw something of the industrial life of Whitby
last week. The spiritual is quite as interesting, and
certainly, so far as my observation goes, has a character
of its own, distinct from that of any other of our popular
seaside resorts. It may be the presence of so large a sea-
going element ; at any rate, unless appearances are quite
misleading, there is an earnest and deep though quiet
religious impulse working amongst the harbour-folk and
townspeople, not without its influence in the new quarter
which has grown on to the old town, and with its casino
and large cricket and lawn tennis grounds, is becoming a
popular — though, happily, not a fashionable — summer
resort. This is, of course, most apparent on Sundays, on
which the absence of anything like the annoyances, both
religious and secular, which spoil the day of rest at so
many health-resorts, is very noteworthy. Not that
Whitby is without its open-air services. On the contrary,
they are at least as frequent as elsewhere, on quays,
shore, cliffs ; but after watching them with some care I
do not remember anything fanatical or startling, or in the
bad taste of coarse familiarity with mysteries which so
U
290 Vacation Rambles
often revolts one in street and field preaching elsewhere.
One of these I had never seen the like of before, and am
inclined to think it may interest your readers. On my
first Sunday afternoon I was watching a crowded service
on the quay, at the foot of the West Cliff, from above.
As it ended, and began to disperse, a man in sailor's
Sunday suit of thick blue cloth severed himself from the
crowd, and came leisurely up the stone steps, with a Bible
and hymn-book in his hand. At the top of the steps is a
public grass-plot, some thirty by twenty yards in size,
the only part of the sea-front which has escaped enclosure
on this cliff. Round it are some fifteen or sixteen benches,
very popular with those who will not pay to go into the
casino enclosure. They were all occupied by people
chatting, smoking, courting, looking at the view, when
the new-comer walked into the middle of the plot, took
off his fur-trimmed sailor's cap, opened his Bible, and
looked round. He was good to look at, with his strong,
weather-beaten, bronzed features, short-cropped, grizzled
hair, and kindly blue eye, part-owner and best man in
one of the Penzance boats, I heard. On looking at him,
passages in the lives of Drake and Hawkins, and Wesley
and Whitfield, and Charles Kingsley's loving enthusiasm
for the Cornish sailor-folk, became clearer to me. Not a
soul noticed him or moved from their seats, and the
talking, smoking, courting went on just as though he were
not there, standing alone on the grass, Bible in hand. I
quite expected to see him shut his book and depart. Not
a bit of it. Clearly he had come up there to deliver his
testimony. That was his business ; whether any one
chose to listen to it or not, was theirs. So he read out
two or three verses from the Epistle to the Romans, and
began to preach. His subject was Paul's conversion,
which he described almost entirely in St. Luke's and the
Apostle's own words, which he quoted without referring
to his Bible, and then urged roughly, but with an
earnestness which made his speech really eloquent, that the
same chance was open to every one. He himself had
Vacation Rambles 291
heard the call thirty years ago, and had been happy ever
since. He had been in peril of death again and again
since then, had seen boats founder with all hands, but
had no fear, nor need any man have, by sea or land, who
would just hear and follow that call. Then he stopped,
wiped his brow, and looked round. The sitters had all
become silent, but not a soul of them moved or spoke. I
was standing, with one or two others, behind the high
l'ails of the enclosure, or I think we should have gone and
stood by him as he gave out a hymn ; but we knew
neither words nor tune, so were helpless. He sang it
through by himself, made a short prayer " that the word
that day might not have been spoken in vain," and then
put on his cap, and went down the steps into the crowd
below. One voice from the benches said " Thank you ! "
as he left the plot.
The next service I came across was a strange contrast.
Under the cliff, in front of the Union Jack planted in the
sands, was a large gathering, composed mostly of children
sitting in rows, with mothers and nurses interspersed, and
a number of men and women standing round the circle.
As I came up, I was handed a leaflet of hymns, which
explained that it was a gathering of the " Children's
Special Service Mission," which has its head-quarters, it
seems, in London, and is presided over by Mr. Stuart, the
vicar of St. James's, Holloway. The service was con-
ducted by a young man not in orders, with a strong choir
to help him. He, too, did his preaching earnestly and
well ; and though it seemed to me above the younger
children's heads, who for the most part made sand-castles
or mud-pies furtively, was evidently listened to sym-
pathetically by the elder part of the audience who stood
round. But if the teaching scarcely touched the children,
they all left their mud-pies and enjoyed the singing.
The Mission, I was told, holds these services on the sands
through the seaside season, at all the chief resorts on the
coast. The leaders and organisers are mostly young men
and women, and all, I believe, volunteers. A note-
292 Vacation Rambles
worthy sign of our time the Mission seemed to me, and I
was glad to hear that it is countenanced, if not actively
supported, by the resident Church clergy.
If we turn from the volunteer to the regular side of
Church work, Whitby still has an almost unique attrac-
tion for the student of the religious movement in England.
The late Dean Stanley, who loved every phase of the
historical development of the life of the National Church,
and mourned over the thoroughness of recent restora-
tions, which, as he thought, threaten the entire disappear-
ance of the surroundings and forms of the worship of the
Georgian era, would have thanked God and taken courage
if he could have visited Whitby Parish Church in 1888,
for church and service are a perfect survival. The wave
of Victorian ecclesiastical reform, without destroying
anything, seems to have gently removed all that was
really objectionable, and breathed new life into the dry
bones of Georgian worship. I am not sure that I should
say " everything objectionable," for probably the vast
majority of even truly Catholic church-goers would not
agree as to the big shield with the national arms which
hangs over the centre of the chancel arch, dividing the
two tables of the Ten Commandments. I am prepared
to admit that this particular lion and unicorn are not
good specimens of discreet beasts of their respective
kinds. But even as they stand they are national sym-
bols, and no reminder that Church and nation are still
one can be spared nowadays ; and they are not half so
grotesque as most of the gurgoyles you will see in the
noblest Gothic cathedrals. And then they vividly re-
mind my generation of the days when they first toddled
to church in the family procession. The church itself is
a gem, though with no orthodox architectural beauty, for
it retains traces of the handiwork of thirty generations in
its walls, pillars, galleries, and stunted square tower, —
from the round arches (there are still two, though the
best, a fine Norman window, has been bricked up) of its
earliest builders in the twelfth, to the white-washed walls
Vacation Rambles 293
and ceilings and square-paned windows of eighteenth
century churchwardens. I should think the three-decker
(I am obliged to use the profane name, having forgotten
the correct one), the clerk's desk, reading-desk, and pulpit
rising one above the other in front of the chancel, must
be unique, the last of its race. The clerk has, indeed,
retired into the choir ; but the rector still reads the
prayers and lessons admirably from his desk, and ascends
the pulpit, where he is on a level with the faculty pew of
the squire, and the low galleries, to deliver his excellent
short discourses. Long may he and his successors do so.
One is only inclined to regret that he does not take off
his surplice in the reading-desk, and ascend to preach in
his black gown. Curious it is to remember that less
than thirty years ago Bryan King and others excited
riots in many parishes by preaching in the surplice. The
pews on the floor are all high oaken boxes with doors,
though the great majority of them are now free. The
visitor in broadcloth is put into one of the larger ones,
lined with venerable baize, once green. These are some-
what narrow parallelograms with seats round the three
sides, so that it requires caution in kneeling to avoid
collision with your opposite neighbour. And the body
of the church being nearly square by reason of the addi-
tion of side aisles at different periods, and the "three-
decker " well out on the floor, the pews have been planned
so that they all face towards it, and consequently all the
congregation can see each other. This is supposed to be
a drawback to worship ; probably is — must be, where
people have been always used to looking all one way.
That it really hinders a hearty service, no one would
maintain who has attended one in Whitby Parish Church.
It was quite full, when I was there, of a congregation
largely composed of men, and the majority of these
sailors and other working folk. Let any reader who still
goes to church make a point of ascending the 190 stone
steps which lead up to it from the old town, and looking
at the matter with his own eyes, if ever he should be
294 Vacation Rambles
within reach. The rector is a sort of successor to the old
abbots of St. Hilda, with ecclesiastical jurisdiction over
the whole town, wherein are five or six churches worked
by curates, all in the modern style, seats facing eastward,
no three-deckers, surpliced choirs, and chanted psalms,
and canticles. Indeed, in one place of worship, those
who have a taste for gabbled prayers, bowings and pos-
turings, lighted candles, and the rest of the most modern
ritual, can find it, but in a proprietary chapel not under
the jurisdiction of the rector.
Singing-Matches in Wessex
28th September 1888.
I remember, sir, that some quarter of a century ago,
you were interested in the popular songs of our English
country-folk, and so may possibly think gleanings in this
field still worthy of notice. In that belief, I send this
note of some "singing-matches," which, by a lucky
chance, I was able to attend last week in West Berks.
The matches in question were for both men and women,
a prize of half a crown being offered in each case. The
occasion was the village " veast," or annual commemora-
tion of the dedication of the parish church, still the
immemorial day of gathering and social reunion in every
hamlet of this out-of-the-way district. I was glad to find
the old word still in use, for as a Wessex man it would
have been an unpleasant shock to me to find the " veast "
superseded by a " festival," habitation, or other modern
gathering. In some respects, however, I must own that
the character of the "veast" has changed; these singing-
matches, for instance, being a complete novelty to me.
There used to be singing enough after the sports, as the
sun went down, and choruses, rollicking and sentimental,
came rolling out of the publicans' booths — for the most
part of dubious character — but singing-matches for prizes
I never remember. I suppose the craze for competitive
examination in every department of life may account for
Vacation Rambles 295
this new development ; anyhow, there were the matches
to come off — so the bills assured us — in the village
schoolroom, of all places, which was thrown open for this
purpose, and for dancing, at sunset. Hither, then, I re-
paired from the vicar's fields, where the sports had been
held, in the wake of a number of rustic couples and
toffee-sucking children. The school is a lofty room, fifty
feet long, with a smaller class-room as transept at the
upper end, along which ran a temporary platform. Upon
this the Farringdon Blue-Ribbon Band, in neat uniforms,
were already playing a vigorous polka. Presently this
first dance ended, the band stood back, and the three
judges coming to the front, announced the terms of the
competition, the men to begin, and a dance to be inter-
polated after every two songs, every singer, one at a
time, to come up on the platform. There was no hesita-
tion amongst the singers, the first of whom stepped up at
once, and so the matches went on, two songs and a dance
alternately, until all who cared to compete had sung.
Then, at about 9 P.M., the prizes were awarded, and I
left, the dancing going on merrily for another two hours.
I was amused by the award of the men's prize to the
singer of a vociferously applauded ditty, entitled " The
Time o' Day," for it showed that the keenest zest of the
Wessex rustic is still, as it was thirty years ago, to get a
rise out of — or, in modern slang, to score off — " thaay
varmers." It began : —
A straanger wtmst in Worcestersheer,
A gen'lman he jirofessed,
He lived by takin' o' people in,
He wnz so nicely dressed.
Wi' my tol-de-rol, etc.
This stranger, having a gold chain round his neck, swaggers
in the farmers' room on market-day, till —
He zets un in a big arm-cheer,
And, bein' precious deep,
Sticks out his legs, drows back his arms,
And "gainmots" off to sleep.
296 Vacation Rambles
The farmers canvas him, and doubt if he has any watch
to his chain. His friend, " by them not understood,"
pulls out the chain, shows a piece of wood at the end,
and puts it back. The stranger wakes ; the farmers ask
him " the time 0' day " ; he excuses himself, on the plea
that last night, having taken a glass too much, he did not
wind up his watch. At this —
The varmers said, and did protest,
Ez sure ez we're alive,
Thet thee dost not possess a watch
Of pounds we'll bet thee vive.
The stranger covers the bets, pulls out a piece of wood,
touches a spring, and shows a watch inside : —
'Bout vifty pounds thaay varmers lost,
Which in course thaay died to paay,
And the bwoys run arter 'em down the street,
Wi' "Gee us the time o' daay. "
Wi' my tol-de-rol, etc.
I did not, however, concur in the award myself. I should
have given the prize for a love -song, a sort of rustic
rendering of " Phyllis is my only Joy," the chorus of
which ran : —
For ef you would, I'm sure you could
Jest let a feller know ;
Ef it strikes you as it likes you,
Answer yes or no.
The judges, however, followed, if (two being " varmers ")
they did not thoroughly sympathise with, the obvious
feeling of the crowded room. The patriotic songs, I
noticed, had quite changed their character. They never
were of the vulgar jingo kind in Wessex, but there used
to be much of the old Dibdin and tow-row-row ring about
them. " The Poor Little Soldier Boy " may be taken as
a specimen of the new style. His father dies of wounds ;
he 'lists ; comes home ; is discharged ; wanders starving,
till, opposite a fine gate, he sinks down, asking the un-
Vacation Rambles 297
known inmates how they will like to find him, " dead at
their door in the morn." At this crisis a lady appears,
who takes him in and provides for him for life. The
only lines I carried away were from a song even more
pacific in tone than " The Poor Little Soldier Boy."
They ran : —
Ef I wur King o' France,
Or, better, Pope o' Rome,
I'd hev no fightin' men abroad,
Nor weepin' maids at home.
But there was an approach to " waving the flag " amongst
the women, one of whom, a strapping damsel, sang : —
We've got the strength of will,
And old England's England still,
And every other nation knows it — " rather" !
which word " rather " ended every verse of a somewhat
vulgar ditty. She did not get the prize, nor did the
matron whom I fixed on as the winner, who sang with-
out a hitch a monotonous and, I began to think, never-
ending ballad on the rivalries of "young Samuel" and
one " Barne-well " for the graces of an undecided young
woman. The attention with which this somewhat dreary
narrative was listened to deceived me, for the prize went,
without public protest, to a young woman of whose song
I could not catch a line, though I could just gather that
it was feebly sentimental. My impression is that it was
her bright eyes, and pretty face and figure, that carried
it with the judges, rather than her singing. If I am
right, it will neither be the first nor last time that the
prizes in this world fall to tes beaux yeux.
The school faces the upper end of the village green,
and I left it so crowded that it was a wonder how the
dancers could get along at all with their polkas and
handkerchief dances, the latter a kind of country dance,
which were the only ones in vogue. When I got out, I
saw lighted booths at the other end of the green, and
went down to inspect. It was a melancholy sight.
298 Vacation Rambles
There was the publican's dancing-booth without a soul in
it. One swing only was occupied in the neighbouring
acrobatic apparatus, and the round-about was motionless.
The gipsies were there, ready and eager to tell fortunes,
and with a well-lighted alley for throwing at cocoa-nuts
with bowls rather larger than cricket-balls — the most
modern and popular substitute, I am told, for skittles.
There they were, but not a customer in sight, the only
human being but myself being the solitary county
policeman, who patrolled the green with most conscientious
regularity, only slackening his pace for a moment or two
as he passed under the bright open windows of the
schoolroom, from which the merry dance-music came
streaming out into the moonlight. I could almost find it
in my heart to pity the publican and gipsies, so over-
whelming did their defeat seem, for not a glass of beer
had been allowed all day in the vicar's fields, where the
cricket-match had been played and all the races run, on
milk, tea, or aerated waters. The whole stock of these
last beverages, supplied from the " Hope Coffee Koom,"
which has faced the public-house on the village green now
for about three years, was drunk out before the dancing
ended and the school closed on " veast " night, to the
exceeding joy of the vicar's niece and her lieutenants,
two bright Cornish damsels, handy, devoted, and ardent
teetotalers. These three have been fighting the publicans
since 1886, when they started the "Hope Coffee Room,"
supplied with bread, butter, and cakes from the vicarage,
and aerated drinks and light literature, all, I take it, at
something under cost price, though this the three ardent
damsels will by no means admit. The vicar, who is no
teetotaler himself, shrugs his shoulders laughingly, plays
his fiddle, pays the bills, and lets them have their own
way, with an occasional protest that some night he shall
have his barn and ricks burnt. There is, however, no
real danger of this, as he has lived with and for his poor
for more than thirty years with scarcely one Sunday's
break, and gipsy or publican would get short shrift who
Vacation Rambles 299
damaged him or anything that is his. I found him quite
ready to admit the great improvement which is apparent
in the " veast," as in many other phases of rustic life,
though he cannot get over, or look with anything but
dislike and distrust at, the cramming and examining
system, which, as he mourns, embitters the only time in
the lives of his poor children which used to be really
happy, when they could play about on the village green
and in the lanes regardless of Inspector and Government
grant. Nor am I sure that he does not look with regret
at the disappearance of cudgel-playing and wrestling out
of the programme of the yearly " Veast-Sports." Cricket,
fine game as it is, does not bring out quite the same
qualities. No doubt there were now and then bad hurts
in those sports, and fights afterwards ; but these came
from beer, and might happen just as easily over cricket.
So he muses, and I rather sympathise. As has been well
sung by the ould gamester : —
Who's vor a bout o' vrendly plaay,
As never should to anger move,
Sech spworts be only meant for thaay
As likes their mazzards broke for love.
But I should be sorry to believe that there are fewer
youngsters to-day in the "West country who " likes their
mazzards broke for love" than there used to be half a
century ago.
The Divining-Eod
21st September 1889.
About a quarter of a century ago, I had the chance of
seeing some experiments in the search for water by the
use of "the divining rod" on a thirsty stretch of the
Berkshire chalk range. Oddly enough (what a lot of
odd things there are lying all round us !) at the highest
points of this very range you might come on "dew-ponds,"
which never seemed to run dry, though how the white
^oo Vacation Rambles
o
chalky water got there, or kept there, no one, I believe,
has ever been able to explain from that day to this. But
these "dew-ponds" were of no use, of course, to the
cottages scattered along the hillside, and whoever wanted
spring-water, had to go down about 400 feet for it.
Well, I neglected that chance, and ever since have been
regretting it.
My notion of the water-diviner was gathered from Sir
Walter's famous portrait of Dousterswivel in the Antiquary;
a fellow " who amongst fools and womankind talks of the
Cabala, the divining-rod, and all the trumpery with which
the Eosicrucians cheated a darker age, and which, to our
eternal disgrace, has in some degree revived in our own."
I was resolved that the revival should in no case be
forwarded by me, and so lost my opportunity, and have
been ever since tantalised by reports of marvels wrought
by the hazel-wand, as to which I was quite at a loss to
form any reasonable opinion. It was with no little
satisfaction, therefore, that I received, and accepted, an
invitation to assist at a water-search about to be under-
taken by a diviner of considerable reputation in the
outskirts of Deer Leap Wood, in the parish of Wootton,
Surrey.
This wood, notable even amongst the loveliest of that
favoured county, belongs to the worthy representative of
the author of Sylva and the Memoirs, who, having built
some excellent cottages on its confines, desires to find
the occupants a good supply of spring-water in situ.
Accordingly a group of us, men and women of all ages,
and of all degrees of scepticism — for I doubt if there was
a single believer in the efficacy of the rod, though the
squire himself and a friend preserved a judicious silence
— gathered last Friday after breakfast on the lawn before
Wootton House, to await the arrival of the water-doctor,
whom the agent had gone to meet at the station. It was
agreed on all hands that a preliminary test should be
applied, and that the lawn on which we stood offered
quite admirable facilities for this purpose. For, more
Vacation Rambles 301
than two hundred years ago, John Evelyn had diverted a
portion of the stream, which runs down the valley in
which the house stands, for the purpose of making a
fountain on the terraces. (Let it be noted in passing,
that the lead-work of that fountain has needed no repair
from that day to this ! There were plumbers in those
days !) From this fountain two pipes carry the water into
the house, under the lawn on which we stood. Now the
lawn turf is as smooth as a billiard-table, without the
slightest indication of the whereabouts of these pipes,
which indeed was only known vaguely to the squire, and
not at all to any one else of those present. If the
divining-rod could discover these, the experiment at
" Deer Leap Wood " might be undertaken with good hope.
Well, the doctor, conducted by the steward, arrived in
due course, a stout middle-aged man, of the stamp of a
high-class mechanic ; plain and straightforward in speech,
and with no pretence whatever to mystery. In answer
to our questions, he said : " He couldn't tell how it came
about ; but of this he was sure, that he could find springs
and running water. Thirty years ago he was working as
a mason at Chippenham, with a Cornish miner amongst
others. He saw this man find water with the rod ; had
then tried it himself, and found he could do it. That
was all he knew. Any one of us might have the same
power. Why, two young gentlemen who saw him work-
ing at Warleigh, near Bath, had copied him, and found a
spring right under their father's library." We listened,
and then proposed that he should just try about the lawn.
He produced a hazel twig shaped like a Y, the arms, each
some eighteen inches long ; the point, perhaps, six inches.
I may note, however, that the dimensions can be of no con-
sequence, for he used at least half a dozen in his trials,
cutting them at random out of the hazel -bush as we
walked along, and taking no measure of any of them.
Taking an arm of the Y between the middle fingers of
each hand, he walked across the lawn slowly, stooping
slightly forward, so as to keep the point downwards, about
302 Vacation Rambles
a foot from the ground. He had not gone a dozen yards
before the rod quivered, and then the point rose at once
straight up into the air. " There's running water here,"
he said, " and close to the surface." We marked the spot
and followed him, and some twenty-five yards further the
point of the Y again sprang up into the air. The steward,
who knew the plans accurately, was appealed to, and
admitted that these were the precise spots under which
the pipes ran. In answer to the suggestion that the point
sprang up by pressure of his fingers, voluntary or in-
voluntary, he asked two of us to hold the arms beyond
his fingers, and see if we could prevent the point rising.
We did so (I being one), and did all we could to keep it
pointed downwards, but it rose in spite of us, and I
watched his hands carefully at the same time and could
detect no movement whatever of the muscles. Then he
broke one of the arms, all but the bark, and still the point
rose as briskly as ever. Lastly, he proposed that each of
us should try if we had the power. We did so, but with-
out success, except that in the case of Mrs. Evelyn and
another lady the point trembled, and seemed inclined,
though unable, to rise. He then took hold of their wrists,
and at once it rose, nearly as promptly as it had done
with him. This was enough ; and we started in proces-
sion, on ponies, in carriages, or walking, to Deer Leap
Wood, where in the course of an hour he marked with
pegs some half dozen spots, under which running water
will be found at from 70 feet to 100 feet. He did not
pretend to be able to give the exact depth, but only under-
took to give the outside limits. And so we all went back
to lunch, and Mullins took his fee and departed. I know,
sir, that you have many scientific readers, and can picture
to myself the smile tinged with scorn with which they
will turn to your next page when they get thus far. Well,
I own that the boring remains to be clone, the results of
which I hope to send you in due course. Meantime, let
me remind them of a well-known adventure of one of the
most famous of their predecessors towards the end of last
Vacation Rambles 303
century. Sir Joseph Banks, botanising on the downs on
a cloudless June day, came across a shepherd whom he
greeted with the customary " Fine day," — " Ees," was the
reply, " but there'll be heavy rain yet, afore night." Sir
Joseph passed on unheeding, and got a thorough drenching
before he reached his inn. Next morning he went back,
found the shepherd, and put a guinea in his hand, with
"Now, my man, tell me how you knew there was going to
be rain yesterday afternoon." " Whoy," said Hodge, with
a grin, " I zeed my ould ram a shovin' hisself back'ards
in under thuck girt thornin bush ; and wenever a doos
that there'll sartin sure be heavy rainfall afore sundown."
Note. — Water was found where it was expected by the Diviner, and
this well is now used by the tenants of the Deer Leap Cottages. —
October 1895.
5th April 1890.
Sequah's "Flower of the Prairie," Chester, 26th March
1890.
" Why, what on earth can this be 1 " I asked of the man
who stood next me in the Foregate some ten days ago, as
we paused at a crossing to allow the strange object which
had drawn from me the above ejaculation to j)ass on, with
its attendant crowd. It was a mighty gilded waggon, cer-
tainly fourteen feet long by six feet or seven feet broad.
It was drawn by four handsome bays. On two raised
seats at the front sat eight men, English, I fancy, every
man of them, but clad over their ordinary garments in
long leather coats with fringes, such as our familiar
Indians wear in melodrama, and in the broad-brimmed,
soft felts of the Western cowboy. They were all armed
with brass instruments and made the old streets resound
with popular airs. Behind these raised seats, in the body
of the waggon, rode some half dozen, including three
strapping brown men, Indians, I fancy they pose for, but
they looked to me more like the half-castes whom one
sees on the Texan and Mexican ranches on the Rio Grande.
They also were clad in fringed leather coats, and wore
304 Vacation Rambles
sombreros over their long black locks. The sides of the
waggon, where not gilt, were panelled with mirrors, on
which were emblazoned the Stars and Stripes and other
coloured devices. Altogether, the thing seemed to me
well done in its way, whatever it might mean ; and I
turned inquiringly to my neighbour and repeated my
question, as the huge gilded van and its jubilant followers
passed away down the station road. " Oh ! 'tis the
'Merikin chap, as cures folks's rheumatics and draws their
teeth." " He must draw something more than their teeth,"
I said, " to keep up all that show." My neighbour
grinned assent. " He've drawed pretty nigh all the loose
money as is going hereabouts already," he said as we
parted. " One more quack to fleece the poor," I thought,
as I walked on. " Well, anyhow, they get a show for
their shillings ; that van beats Barnum ! "
In this mind I reached the vicarage of one of our
biggest city parishes to which I was bound. " I don't
know about quack," said the vicar, when I had detailed
my adventure on the way, using that disparaging phrase ;
" but this I do know, that I have given over writing
certificates for my poor from downright shame, the demand
is so great." And then he explained that the " medicine-
man," whose stage name was Sequah, made no charge to
any patient who brought a clergyman's certificate of
poverty ; that the van had now been in the town above
a week ; and at first he, the vicar, had given such certi-
ficates freely, both for treatment (tooth-drawing) and for
the medicines, but now refused except in the case of the
very poorest. No ! not because Sequah was an impostor ;
on the contrary, he had done several noteworthy cures —
at any rate temporary cures— on some of the vicar's own
parishioners : notably in the case of one old man who had
been drawn up to the van in a wheel-chair. He had had
rheumatism for two years, which had quite disabled him,
and was in great pain when he got on the platform. After
he had been treated he walked down the steps without
help, and wheeled his chair home himself. Unluckily,
Vacation Rambles -xo
o u o
Sequah had advised him to get warm woollen underclothing,
and on his pleading that he had not the money to buy it,
had given him a sovereign. This so elated him that he
felt quite a new man, and could not help breaking his
sovereign on the way home to give the new man a con-
gratulatory glass at a favourite pot-house. This had
thrown him back, and his knees were a little stiff again,
but the pain had not returned even in this case.
After such testimony from a thoroughly trustworthy
and matter-of-fact witness, I resolved to see this strange
thing with my own eyes, and went off straight from the
vicarage to the scene of action, to which the vicar directed
me. This was an old tan-yard about half an acre in extent,
and was full of people when I arrived, the space imme-
diately round the waggon being densely crowded. It was
drawn up in the middle of the plot. The eight brass-
bandsmen had wheeled round so as to look down from their
raised benches on the floor of the waggon, on which was
a large leather chair. In front of the chair, speaking to
the crowd from the end of the waggon, stood a tall figure,
in a finer kind of leather-fringed coat, ornamented with
rows of blue, red, and white beads. At first glance I
thought it was a woman from the fineness of the features,
and masses of long, light hair falling on the shoulders.
A second glance, however, showed me that it was a man,
and a vigorous and muscular one too. He was explaining
that the medicines he was going to sell presently were
not " scientific," but " natural " medicines, " compounded
of the water of a Californian spring and certain botanic
ingredients " ! I will not trouble you with a list of all
the ailments they will cure if taken steadily and in suffi-
cient doses, but get on at once to the performance. Hav-
ing finished his speech, he put on his sombrero, took up
a pair of forceps from a table on which a row of them
were displayed, and stood by the chair. Upon this,
advanced an apparently endless line of men, women, and
children, marshalled by the Indians who stood at the foot
of the steps. One by one they came up, sat down in the
X
306 Vacation Rambles
chair, passed under Sequah's hands, and descended the
steps on the other side of the Avaggon into the wondering
crowd, while the band discoursed vigorous and continuous
music. I watched him draw at least fifty teeth in less
than as many minutes. The patient just sat down, opened
his mouth, pointed to the peccant tooth, and it was out
in most cases before he could wink. There were perhaps
three or four cases (of adults) in which things did not go
quite so smoothly, and one — that of a young woman, who
seized her bonnet and rushed down the steps in evident
pain and rage — after which he stopped the band, and ex-
plained to us that her tooth was so decayed that he had
had to break the stump in the jaw. This he had done,
and should have taken the pieces out without causing any
further pain, if she had just waited a few more seconds.
There are rumours flying round that the infirmary is
crowded daily with patients in agonies from broken fangs
which have been left in by Sequah. On the other hand,
two of our doctors whom I have met admit that he is a
very remarkable "extractor," and has first-rate instruments.
There were still crowds waiting their turn when he
finished his tooth -drawing for the day, and announced
that he would now treat a case of rheumatism. There-
upon, an elderly man — who gave his name and address,
and stated that he had been rheumatic for twelve years,
unable to walk for two, and was now in great pain — was
carried up the steps and put in the chair. Then buffalo-
robes were brought by the Indians, two of whom held
them up so as to conceal Sequah and the third, a rubber,
who remained inside with the patient. Then the brass
band struck up boisterously, the buffalo-robe screen was
agitated here and there, and a strong and very pungent
smell (not unlike hartshorn) spread all round. I timed
them, and at the end of eighteen minutes the buffalo-
robes were lowered, and there was the old man dressed
again and seated in the chair. The band stopped. Sequah
asked the old man if he felt any pain now. He replied,
" No," and then was told to walk to the front of the
Vacation Rambles 307
platform, which he did ; then to get down the ladder,
walk round the waggon amongst the crowd, and come up
on the other side, which he did, looking, I must say, as
astonished as I was, at his own performance. Then six
or seven men, mostly elderly, came up and declared that
they had been similarly treated, and were wonderfully
better, some of them quite cured and at work again.
Then Sequah invited any person who had been treated
by him or taken his medicines and were none the better,
to come up into the waggon and tell us about it, as that
was their proper place and not below. This offer seemed
quite bond fide, but it did not impress me, as I doubt
whether any protesting patient would have had much
chance of ascending the steps, which were kept by the
Indians and their able-bodied confederates. No one
answering, two big portmanteaus were brought up, out
of which he began to sell his medicines at a dollar (4s.)
the set — two bottles and two small packets. The rush
to be served began, people crushing and struggling to get
near enough to hand up their hats or caps with 4s. in
them, which were returned with the medicines in them.
I watched: for at least ten minutes, when, there being
apparently no end to the purchases, I strolled away,
musing on the strange scene, and wondering what the
attraction can be in the Bohemian life which could induce
a man of this evident power to wander about the world
in a gilded waggon, in a ridiculous costume, and talking
transparent clap-trap, to sell goods which apparently
want no lies telling about them.
I may add that I went again last Saturday, when there
was even a greater crowd, and an older and more severe
case of rheumatism was treated with quite as great (ap-
parent) success.
French Popular Feeling
15th August 1S90.
I doubt if any of your readers has less sympathy than
308 Vacation Rambles
I with the yearning to go back twenty, thirty, or forty
years (as the case may be), which seems to be a note of
contemporary literature, and therefore, I take it, of the
average mind of the men and women of our day, who
have passed out of their first youth. " The Elixir of
Life," which Bulwer dreamed and wrote of, which should
restore youth, with its bounding pulses and golden locks,
its capacity for physical enjoyment, and for building
castles in Spain, I think I may say with confidence I
would not drink four times a day, with twenty minutes'
promenade between the glasses (as I am just now drinking
of the source Ccesar here), even if an elixir mice source
were to come bubbling up to-morrow in this enchanting
Auvergne valley, and our English doctor here at Royat
— known to all readers of Mr. Punch's " Water Course "
— were to put it peremptorily on my treatment -paper
to-morrow morning. It is not surely the " good fellows
whose beards are gray," who sigh over the departure of
muscular force, and sure quickness of eye and nerve,
which enabled them in years gone by to jump five-barred
gates or get down to leg-shooters. They are glad to see
the boys doing these things, and rejoicing in them ; but,
for themselves, do not desire any more to jump five-
barred gates or get down to leg- shooters. They have
learned the wise man's lesson, that there is a time for all
things, and that those who linger on life's journey and
fancy they can still occupy the pleasant roadside places
after their part of the column has passed on ahead, will
surely find themselves in the way of, and be shouldered
out by, the next division, without a chance of being able
to regain their place in the line, side by side with old
comrades and contemporaries.
But it is one thing to fall out of the line of march of
one's own accord, from an unwise hankering after road-
side pleasures, and quite another to have to fall out
because one can no longer keep one's old place in the
column by reason of failing wind, or muscle, or nerve ;
and the man of sense who feels his back stiffening, or his
Vacation Rambles 309
feet getting tender, will do well to listen to such hints
betimes, and betake himself at once to whatever place or
regimen holds ont the best hope of enabling him to keep
step once more, till the day is fairly over and the march
done. It is for this reason, at any rate, that I find
myself at Royat, from which I have been assured by
more than one trustworthy friend who has tested the
waters, that I shall return after three weeks "with new
tissues," and " fit to fight for my life." I don't see any
prospect of having to fight for my life in my old age,
though one can't be too confident with the new Radicalism
looming up so menacingly, and am very well content with
my old tissues, if they can only be got into fair working
order again, of which I already begin to think there is
good prospect here, though my experience of the sowrces
"Eugenie" and "Caesar" is as yet not a week old.
It is more than twenty years since I have written to
you from France over this signature, and since that
time I have only been once in Paris, for two days on
business. The gay city is much less changed than 1
expected to find it, so far as one can judge from a drive
across it from the Gare de l'Ouest to the Gare de Lyon,
and a stroll (after depositing luggage at the latter station)
along the Rue de Rivoli and the Quais, and through the
streets of the old city. The clearance which has left an
open space in front of Notre Dame, so that one can get a
good view of the western front, seemed to me the most
noteworthy improvement. The great range of public
buildings and offices which have been added to the Louvre
are stately and impressive, but cannot make up for the
disappearance of the Tuileries. The Eiffel Tower is a
great disappointment. All buildings should be either
beautiful or useful ; but it is neither, and only seems to
dwarf all the other buildings. But one change impressed
me grievously. Where are all the daintily dressed women
and children gone to 1 Perhaps the world of fashion may
be out of town ; but there must be some two millions of
people left in Paris, a quarter of them at least well-to-
310 Vacation Rambles
do citizens, and able to give as much care as of old to
their toilets. Nevertheless, I assure you, I sought in
vain for one really dainty figure such as one used to meet
by the score in every street. Can twenty years of the
true Republic have made La Belle France dowdy ? It is
grievous to think of it, and I hope to be undeceived
before I get back amongst the certainly better got -up
women of my native land.
For my nine hours' journey south, I bought a handful
of the cheap illustrated papers — Le Grelot, Le Troupier, and
others — which seem to be as much the daily intellectual
fare of the French travelling public as (I regret to say)
Tit-Bits and its congeners are, at any rate in my part of
England. Of course it is always difficult to know what
" the people " are thinking or caring about ; but to get at
what they read must be not a bad test. A perusal of
these certainly surprised me favourably, especially in
this respect, that they were almost entirely free from
the pruriency which is so generally supposed to be the
characteristic of modern French literature.
I wish I could speak half as favourably of the attitude
of France, so far as these journals disclose it, towards her
neighbours ; but this is about as bad as it can be, touchy,
jealous, and unfair, all round. Take, for instance, the
Troupier, which is specially addressed to the Army. The
cartoon represents the " Grand Jeu de Massacre," at which
all passers-by are invited to join free of charge. The jeu
consists of throwing at a row of puppets, citizens of
Alsace-Lorraine, in which a brutal German soldier is in-
dulging, while the French " Ministre des Affaires (qui lui
sont) Etrangeres " slumbers peacefully on a neighbouring
seat. But we come off' at least as badly as Germany.
In a vigorous leader, entitled " Une Keculade," on the
Zanzibar Question, after a very bitter opening against
England — " il n'y a guere de pays qui n'ait 6t6 roule
dupe et vol6 par elle," — the Troupier breaks into a song
of triumph over the backing-down of England, " flanquee
dAllemagne et de ses allies," before the resolute attitude
Vacation Rambles 3 1 1
of France. " Cette reculade," it ends, " de nos ennemis
indique suffisamment qne La France a repris la place et
le rang qui lui conviennent, et qu'elle est de taille a se
faire respecter partout et par tons. C'est tout ce que
nous desirions." In all commercial and industrial matters
we are equally grasping and unscrupulous. There seems
to be just now a great stir in the sardine industry, and,
so far as I can make out, English and American Companies
seem to be competing for a monopoly of that savoury
little fish. It is, however, upon the English " Sardine
Union Company, Limited" — "qui s'appelle en France,
Societe Gene>ale de FIndustrie Sardiniere de France" —
that the vials of journalistic wrath are being emptied.
" Sept polichinelles," it would seem, have subscribed for
one share each, and the whole scheme is utterly rotten.
Nevertheless, this bogus Company threatens to buy up
all the sardine manufactories in France at fancy prices,
and, the control being in England, will manufacture there
all the metal boxes, and will build all the fishing-boats
over there, " au detriment de nos constructeurs Francais,"
and so on, and so on. I was getting quite melancholy
over all these onslaughts on my native country, when I
came upon a topic which alone seems to excite the
petit -joiiriitiiiste more than the sins of the long-toothed
Englishman — viz. those of priests and their followers
and surroundings. Here is a comic example, over which
the Grelot foams in trenchant and sarcastic but incredibly
angry sentences. A Belgian Council has decided to divide
the 500 fr. which it has voted to the " Institut Pasteur,"
the vote being " pour M. Pasteur et pour St. Hubert."
This remarkable vote was carried on the pleading of a
Deputy, who, after paying homage to M. Pasteur, added :
"C'est un grand homme qui a open!' des cures merveil-
leuses ; seulement il y a un autre grand homme, qui depuis
onze cent soixante-trois annees a opere des miracles, c'est
St. Hubert — M. Pasteur devra travailler longtemps avant
d'en arriver la." I am afraid you will have no room for
more than one of the scathing sentences in which the
3 1 2 Vacation Rambles
writer tosses this unlucky vote backwards and forwards :
" M. Pasteur acceptera - 1 - il de partager les 500 fr.
avec St. Hubert (adresse inconnue), ou St. Hubert re-
fusera-t-il de partager avec M. Pasteur (adresse connue) 1
— ' That is the question,' comme disait le nomme Shake-
speare."
It was in the midst of such instructive if not entirely
pleasant reading, that I arrived at Clermont, the old
capital of Auvergne, by far the most interesting town
I have been in this quarter of a century, not excepting
Chester. From thence, one comes up to Royat, about
three miles, in an electric tramway, or by 'bus or cab.
Royat les Bains
23?xl August 1890.
Some thirty years ago, more or less, I remember
reading with much incredulous amusement Sir Francis
Head's "Bubbles of the Brunnen." It was in the early days
of the Saturday Review, when the infidel Talleyrand
gospel of surtout point de zble was being preached to young
England week by week in those able but depressing
columns. I, like the rest of my contemporaries, was
more or less affected by the cold water virus, and was
certainly inclined to look from the superior person stand-
point on what I could not but regard as the outpourings
of the second childhood of an eccentric septuagenarian,
who was really asking us to believe that the Schwalbach
waters were as miraculously potent as the thigh-bone of
St. Glengulphus, of which is it not written in The Iii-
goldsby Legends : —
And cripples, on touching his fractured osfemoris,
Threw down their crutches and danced a quadrille.
I need scarcely say to you, sir, that it is many years
since I have been thoroughly disabused of this depressing
heresy ; but perhaps one never quite recovers from
Vacation Rambles 3 1 3
such early demoralisation. At any rate, now that I find
myself approaching Sir Francis's age, and much in his
frame of mind when he blew his exhilarating bubbles, I
can't quite make up my mind to turn myself loose, as
he did, and in Lowell's words, " pour out my hope, my
fear, my love, my wonder," upon you and your readers.
The real fact, however, stated in plain (Yankee) prose is,
that Schwalbach (I have been there) "is not a cir-
cumstance " to this refuge for the victim of gout, rheu-
matism, eczema, dyspepsia, and I know not how many
more kindred maladies, amongst the burnt-out volcanoes
of the Department Puy-de-Dome. Nevertheless, you
may fairly say, and I should agree, that my ten days'
experience of the effect of the waters is scarcely sufficient
to make me a trustworthy witness as to the healing
properties of these springs. Twenty-one days is the
prescribed course, and as I am as yet but half through, I
will not "holloa till I am out of the wood," but will try
in the first place to give you some idea of this Roy at les
Bains and its surroundings
Let us look out from this third-floor window at which
I am writing, on the highest guest-floor of the topmost
hotel in Eoyat, to which a happy chance (or my good
angel, if I have one) led me on my arrival. I look out
across a narrow valley, from three to four hundred yards
wide, upon a steep hill which forms its opposite side.
They say this hill is a burnt-out volcano. However that
may be, it is now clothed with vineyards on all but the
almost precipitous places where the rock peeps out. On
the highest point, against the sky-line, stands out a small
white house, calling itself the Hotel do l'Observatoire,
from which there must be a magnificent view ; but how it
is to be reached I have not yet learned, for there is no
visible road or footpath, and the peasants object to one's
attempting the ascent through the vineyards. The valley
winds up round this hill, taking a turn to the north, our
side widening out and sweeping back behind Royal
Church and village, to which the retreating hill behind
314 Vacation Rambles
forms a most picturesque background. For, on the
lower slope, just above the houses, are stretches of bright
green meadow, interspersed amongst irregular clumps of
oak ; above this comes a brown-red belt of rough ground,
growing heather and wild strawberries ; and, again above
that, all along the brow, are dense pine woods. The
constant changes of colour which this southern sun brings
out all day long on this hillside make it difficult to break
away from one's window and descend to the etablissement
to drink waters and take baths. This institution lies
down at the bottom of the valley I have been de-
scribing, some 200 feet below this window, and 150
feet below the broad terrace which is thrown out from
the ground - floor of this hotel. From the terrace a
rough zigzag path leads down to the brook, which
rushes down from Eoyat village in a succession of
tiny waterfalls, sending up to us all day the murmur of
running water. On reaching the brook's bank, we have
about one hundred yards to walk by its side, when,
crossing a good road which runs round it, we reach the
low wall of the park, in which lies the bathing establish-
ment. From this point the electric tram-cars run to
Clermont, carrying backwards and forwards for two sous
baigneurs and holiday-folk enough, I should say, to pay
handsome dividends. This park occupies the whole
breadth of the valley, pushing back the houses on either
side against the hillsides. Its main building, a handsome
structure, built of lava, with red-tiled roof, contains all
the separate baths and a piscine, or swimming bath,
besides a good-sized hall for sanitary gymnastics, and a
salle d'escrime, in which a professor instructs pupils daily
in fencing and le boxe. The broad path runs from top to
bottom of this park, having this dablissement building on
its left or northern side, and on its right two parallel
terraces, one above the other. On the lower of these is
the great source, the " Eugenie," which bubbles up here in
magnificent style, sending up some millions of gallons
daily. Over the Eugenie source is a pavilion, with open
Vacation Rambles 315
sides and striped red and white curtains. A second
pavilion on the same terrace, a little lower down, is
devoted to the band, which plays every afternoon for two
or three hours ; and below that again, the casino. On
the second or upper terrace are a few favoured chalet
shops, for the sale of books, pictures, photographs, and
the pottery and bijouterie of Auvergne. Then, above
again, comes the road which encloses the park, on the
opposite side of which are the row of large hotels built
against the rocky side of the valley, and communicating at
the back from their upper stories with the road which runs
up to Royat village. The rest of the park is laid out in lawns
and garden-beds, full of bright flowers and walks, amongst
which are found three other sources — the Caesar, the St. Mart,
and the St. Victor, each of which has its small drinking-
pavilion. In front of these several pavilions and along the
terraces are a plentiful supply of seats, and chairs which you
can carry about to any spot you may select under the shade
of the plane-trees and acacias which line the terraces and
walks, with weeping-willows, chestnuts, and poplars happily
interspersed here and there. The abundant water-supply
which the brook brings down is well utilised, so that the
whole park, some six acres in extent, is kept as fresh and
green, and the flower-beds as luxuriant and bright with
colour, as if it were in dear, damp England. At the
bottom of the park, a handsome viaduct of arches, built
of lava, spans the valley, seeming to shut Royat in from
the outer world, and beyond, the valley broadens out into
a wide plain, with Clermont, the capital of Auvergne, in
the foreground, and beyond the city, stretching right
away to Switzerland, a splendid sea (as it were) of corn
and maize and vines and olives, the richest, it is said, in
the whole of la belle France. It is stated in all the guide-
books, and by trustworthy residents, that on a clear day
you may see Mont Blanc from Royat, but as yet I have
not been lucky enough.
Unless I have failed altogether in describing the view
which lies constantly before me — from the pine-clad hill-
3 1 6 Vacation Rambles
side over Royat village, with its gray church and white red-
roofed houses to the west, away down over the park and
surrounding hotels and shops, and viaduct and city and
plain to the far east — you can now fancy what it must be
in the early morning, when the light mist is lying along
the hillsides until the sun has had time to dispose of the
clouds in the upper air, or at night, when the clear sky is
thick with stars, and the Northern Lights flame up behind
the silent volcano opposite this Hotel de Lyon. There is
no place on earth, from the back-slums of great cities
to the mountain-peak or mid-ocean, to which early morns
and evening twilights do not bring daily, or almost daily,
some touch of the beauty of light-pictures which sun and
moon and stars paint for us so patiently, whether we
heed them or no ; but to get them in their full per-
fection, one should be able to look at them in the light,
dry, warm air of such places as these volcanic highlands
of Auvergne.
And now for the life we lead in this air and scenery.
Every morning at six I arrive at the Csesar spring and
drink two glasses, with twenty minutes' interval between
them. Then I climb the hill to cafe 1 au lait and two
small rolls and butter on the terrace, which comes off
about 7 A.M., as soon as the last of our party of four
has come up from the park. Rest till eleven follows,
when we have cUjeuner a la fourchelte, which, as we sit
down about a hundred, lasts for an hour. In the
afternoon I drink two glasses at the St. Mart spring, and
between them have twenty minutes in the piscine, which
is my great treat of the day. Going punctually at two,
when the ladies surrender this swimming-bath to the
men, I almost always get it to myself, and enjoy it as I
used to do years ago, when my blood was warm enough,
lying about amongst the waves on the English coast, and
letting them just tumble and toss me about as they would.
This water comes warm from the Eugenie spring daily, and
is so buoyant that one can lie perfectly still on the top of
it with one's hands behind one's head ; and if there were
Vacation Rambles 3 1 7
no roof to the piscine, and one could only look straight up
all the time into the deep-blue sky, twice as high, so it
looks, as ours in England, the physical enjoyment would
be perfect. It is not far from that as it is, and I
thoroughly sympathise with Browning's Amphibian : —
From worldly noise and dust,
In the sphere which overbrims
With passion and thought — why, just
Unable to fly, one swims.
Koyat les Bains
30th August 1890.
I suppose there never was a garden since Eden (unless,
perhaps, in the early days of the Jesuit settlements in
the Paraguay) in which the devil has not had a tree or a
corner somewhere ; and it would be well for us all if he
were no more in evidence in other health and holiday
resorts than he is here in the pare. His booth is at the
end of the middle terrace, a small pavilion, well shaded
by tall acacias, in which in the afternoons you can risk a
franc, occasionally two, every minute on the course des
petits chevaux. The course is a round table, with eight or
ten concentric grooves, in each of which a small horse
and jockey runs. Outside this course, with room for a
page-boy to move round between the two, there is a
slight railing with a flat top, at which the players sit
round and post their stakes. These are collected by the
page, who lets each player draw a number in exchange
for the francs. As soon as he has made his circuit, the
croupier gives a turn to a handle which works the
machinery. The first turn brings all the horses into line,
and the next starts them round the course, each in his
own groove. After another turn or two, the croupier
lets go the handle, and the puppets begin to scatter, the
winner being the one which passes the post last before
the machine stops, and they all come to a standstill.
3 1 8 Vacation Rambles
Then the croupier calls out the winning number, and the
owner gets all the stakes, except one, which goes to the
table. Beyond this, the Company has no interest what-
ever, so it is said. Of course one looks with jealousy at
every such game of chance, and I was inclined to think
at first that the croupier was in league with two women,
one spectacled, who sat steadily at one end of the players,
playing in partnership, and seeming to win often er than
any of the others ; but the longer I watched, the weaker
grew my suspicions. Most of the players, by the way,
are women, though there are a few men who come and
sit for hours, playing and smoking cigarettes. Besides
the sitters many strollers come up, stake their francs for
a course or two, and then move on, not unfrequently
with a handful of silver. On the whole, if play is to be
allowed at all, it can scarcely take a more harmless form,
if only the good-natured French papa could be kept from
letting his children play for him. He comes up with a
child of ten or twelve years, lets them sit down, and
supplies them from behind with the necessary francs, and
after a round or two the little faces flush and hands
shake, especially if they be girls, in a way which is pain-
ful to see. A child gambling is as sad a sight, for every
one but the devil and his elect, as this old world can
show.
Next to the courses des petits chevaux, at some thirty
yards' distance, comes the large pavilion in which the
excellent band sit and play for an hour in the forenoon
and afternoon, and again at 8 P.M. Round the pavilion
is a broad space, gravelled and well shaded, and furnished
with chairs which are occupied all the afternoon by
baigneurs and visitors, mostly in family groups, the women
knitting or sewing, and the children playing about in the
intervals of the music, and before and after the regular
concerts. Occasionally they have a bed d'enfants in this
space, controlled by a master of the ceremonies, a dancing-
master, I am told. Under him the children, boys and
girls of thirteen or fourteen, down to little trots who can
Vacation Rambles 319
scarcely toddle, may enjoy polkas, galops, and the taran-
tole cles postilions, as well as the gravel allows ; and now
and again conies a difiU, in which, in couples carefully
graduated according to size and age, the children march
round the walks, and in and out amongst the approving
sitters. A very pretty, and to me rather a curious sight,
as I much doubt if the English boy could be induced to
perform such a march, even in the hope of small packets
of bonbons at the end, which are distributed to the best
performers.
The big orchestral platform in this pavilion is often
occupied, when the band is not playing, by itinerant
performers, who (I suppose) hire it from the Company in
the hope of getting a few francs out of the sitting and
circulating crowd. The performances are poor, so far as
I have seen, though one conjurer certainly played a trick
which entirely beat me at the time, and for which I am
still quite unable to account. He produced what he
called a garotte, made of two stout planks which shut one
upon another (like our old stocks), and in which was a
central hole for the neck, and two smaller ones for the
wrists. This garotte he handed round, and though I did
not get hold of it, I inspected it in the hands of a youth
who was standing just in front of me, and satisfied my-
self that the planks were solid wood. Then he placed it
on a stand, and called up a stout damsel in the flesh-
coloured tights which seem to be de riguew for all female
performers, who knelt down and laid her neck in the big
hole, and a wrist in each of the smaller ones. The con-
jurer then let down the upper plank upon her, and having
borrowed a signet ring from an elderly dkore" Frenchman
who was sitting near the platform, proceeded to encircle
the two planks with strips of stout paper or tape, which
he sealed with the ring. Then he held up a screen for
the space of twenty seconds, and on lowering it the
damsel was posturing in her tights, while the garotte re-
mained in situ, with the tapes still there and the seals
unbroken. By what trick she got her head and hands
320 Vacation Rambles
out I was utterly unable to guess, and strolled away
with the rather provoking sense of having been fooled
through my eyes. I hope a green parrot who flew down
and sat on the railing close to the garotte, with his head
wisely on one side, flew off better satisfied.
Below, on the lowest terrace, at the end of the e'tablisse-
ment buildings, is the salle d'escrime, which is open daily
in the afternoons, when you may see through the big
windows the " Maitre d'Escrime, Professeur de S.A.R. le
Prince des Galles," sitting ready to instruct pupils, or, so
it seemed, to try a friendly bout with all comers. The
former were generally too much of mere beginners to
make any show worth seeing, but on one day an awkward
customer turned up who ran the professor, so far as I
could judge, very hard. Indeed, I am by no means sure
that he acknowledged several shrewd hits, but my know-
ledge of fencing is too small to make my judgment
worth much. Le boxe is also announced to go on here,
but I have never seen the gloves put on yet. Indeed, I
much doubt whether young Frenchmen really like having
their heads punched for love. It is an eccentricity which
does not seem to spread out of the British Isles. There
was a tempting assaut d'armes last Sunday, presided over
by General Paquette, at which eleven maitres d'escrime of
regiments in this department, and one professor from
Paris were to fence. I was sorely tempted to go, but as
the thermometer stood at 80° in the shade, and so rein-
forced my insular prejudices as to the day, abstained.
Again, beyond the Casino, on the upper terrace, is a
good croquet-ground on the broad gravel space at the
lower end of the pare. I should think it a difficult
ground to play on, but as a rule the French boys are
decidedly good players, and seem to enjoy the game
thoroughly, and to get round the hoops quicker than any
of ours could do on a lawn like a billiard-table. The
Casino, besides a restaurant and reading-room, contains a
theatre, at which there are performances five nights in
the week, and generally a ball on the off-nights. These
Vacation. Rambles 321
are often fancy-balls, and always, I hear, very lively ; but
I cannot speak from experience, never having as yet
descended either to them or to the plays and operettas.
When one can sit out on a terrace and see the lights
coming out in the valley, and the Milky Way and all the
stars in the heaven shining as they only do down South,
even the artists of the Theatre Francais, and. the other
theatrical stars who visit the Casino in the season, cannot
get me indoors o' nights, even at Casino prices. These
are very reasonable, the abonnement for a seat being only
1 franc a night, or 2 francs for a fauteuil. Your
readers may perhaps be able to judge of the kind of
entertainment given by a specimen. To-night there are
two operettas, — Violonnaux, music by Offenbach ; and Les
Charbonneurs, music by G. Coste. I own I never heard
of either of the pieces.
I think, sir, you will allow that there are attractions
enough of all kinds provided by the Compagnie Anonyme
des Eaux Minerales de Eoyat, who own the pare and run
the business. They can well afford it, as every visitor
pays 10 francs as an abonnement for drinking the waters,
and the charges for baths are high, e.g. 2.50 francs for a
separate bath, and 2 francs for the swimming-bath,
decidedly more than any of our English watering-places,
not excepting Bath ; but one has so much more fun, if
one wants it, for the money. And then there is this
immense thing to be said for this Eoyat Company, — their
park is entirely free and open to any one who cares to
walk through it. I have seen scores of peasants in
blouses, and their wives, sitting about during the concerts,
not on the same terrace with the band, where a sou is
charged for chairs, but near enough to hear the music
perfectly ; and one meets them all about the garden,
walking and chatting amongst the — I was going to write
" well dressed," but that they are not, but eminently
respectable, if rather dowdy — crowds of bathers and
visitors. I do not, of course, mean that there are no
exceptions, either in the case of dowdiness or respect-
Y
322 Vacation Rambles
ability, but they are rare enough to prove the rule. On
the other hand, the number of religious of both sexes is
remarkable who come to use the waters, principally for
throat ailments. Sisters of several kinds, some wearing
black hoods with white breastplates, others in large white
head-dresses, with long haps, like a bird's wings, which flap
as they walk, are frequent in the early mornings and
other quiet times ; and besides the regular clergy, there
are three monkish orders represented. Of these the most
striking are two Franciscans, I believe, clad in rough,
ruddy-brown flannel gowns, reaching to the ground, with
large rosaries hanging before and cowls behind, and girt
with knotted ropes. Peter the Hermit preached the First
Crusade in the neighbouring Church of St. Mary of the
port at Clermont, assisted doubtless by many a friar
clad precisely as these are, except that the modern monk
or friar (as I was disappointed to note, at any rate in one
case) does not go bare-footed, or even in sandals, but in
substantial shoes and trousers ! I was much struck by
the quiet, patient, and reverent expression on all the
faces, very different from what I remember in past years.
Persecution may very well account, however, for this.
There is no branch, I take it, of the Church Universal
which does not thrive under it, in the best sense.
AUVERGNE EN FETE
<6th September 1890.
These good folk of Auvergne seem to get much more
fun, or at least much more play, out of life than we do ;
at any rate, they have been twice en fete in the three
weeks we have been here. I suppose it is because we
have in this business cut down our saints till we have
only St. Lubbock left, with his quarterly holiday, while
they, more wisely, have stuck to the old calendar. But
it seems all wrong that they, who get five times as much
sun as we, should also get three or four times as many
Vacation Rambles 323
holidays ; for sunshine is surely of itself a sort of equiv-
alent for a holiday. Perhaps, however, if we had lots of
it, the national " doggedness as does it " might wear out.
That valuable, but unpleasant characteristic could scarcely
have leavened a nation living in a genial climate ; but,
with about half Africa on our hands, in addition to
Ireland and other trifles all round the world, the coming
generation will need the " dogged as does it " even more
than their fathers. So let us sing with Charles Kingsley,
" Hail to thee, North-Easter," or with the old AViltshire
shepherd, claim that the Aveather in England must be,
anyhow, " sech as plaazes God A'mighty, and wut plaazes
He plaazes I."
Determined to see all the fun of the fair, a friend and
I started for Clermont from Eoyat by the electric tram-
way, and reached the Place de Jaude in a few minutes —
the "Forum Clermontois,"as it is called in the local guide-
books — the largest open space in the ancient capital of
Auvergne. It is a famous place for a fair, being nearly
the size and shape of Eaton Square, with two rows of
plane-trees running round it, but otherwise unenclosed.
As we alighted from the tram-car, we could see a long line
of booths, with prodigious pictures in front of them, and
platforms on which bands were playing and actors gesticu-
lating ; but before starting on our tour, we were attracted
by a crowd close to the stopping-place of the cars. It
proved to be a ring, four or five deep, round the carpet
of athletes. They were two, a man and a woman, both
in the usual flesh-coloured tights, the latter without any
pretence of a skirt. The man was walking round, chang-
ing the places of the weights and clubs, until sufficient
sous had been thrown on to the carpet, the woman
screening her face from the sun with a big fan, and talk-
ing with her nearest neighbours in the ring. She was a
remarkably fine young woman, with well-cut features, and
a snake-head on a neck like a column ; and, strange to
say, her expression was as modest and quiet as though
pink tights were the ordinary walking-dress on the Place
324 Vacation Rambles
de Jaude. The necessary sous were soon carpeted, and
the performance began. It was just the usual thing,
lifting and catching heavy weights, wielding clubs, etc.,
the only novelty being that a woman should be one of
the performers. She followed the man, doing several
feats with heavy weights which were painful to witness,
and we passed on to the row of booths. The average
price for entrance was 2i- sous, but after experimenting
on the two first, we agreed that in such a temperature
the outside was decidedly the best part of the show.
These two were some Indian dancers, male and female,
who stood up one after another and postured from the
hips, and waved scarfs, the rest beating time on banjos ;
and a " Miss Flora, dornpteuse," a snake- tamer. From this
announcement over the booth entrance we rather ex-
pected to find a countrywoman, but the performer was a
squat little Frenchwoman, in the same shirtless tights,
who took some sleepy snakes out of a box, put them
round her neck, and then wanted to make us pay a
second time, which we declined to do. The next booth
ought to have been amusing, but no boys came to play
while we stopped. It was announced as " Le Massacre
dTnnocents." A number of these "Innocent" puppets
looked out of a row of holes in a large wooden frame,
not more than eight feet from the rail in front of it.
Standing behind this rail the player, on paying 5
centimes, is handed a soft ball, which he can discharge at
any one of the Innocents he may select, and " chaque
bonhomme renverse gagne une demi-douzaine de biscuits."
I suppose the biscuits were bad, as otherwise the absence
of boys seemed incredible. Any English lower-school boy
would have brought down a bonhomme at that distance
with every ball, unless the balls were somehow doctored.
But no boy turned up ; so we passed on to the biggest
booth in the fair, with pictures of wondrous beasts and
heroic men and women over the platform, on which a big
drum and clarionet invited entrance, in strains which
drowned those of all the neighbouring booths. We read
Vacation Rambles 325
that inside a " Musee historique, destructive, et amusant "
was on show, but contented ourselves with the pictures
outside.
Facing the other side of the place, with their backs to
the larger booths along which we had come, were a row
of humbler stalls and booths, most of the latter being
devoted to some kind of gambling. There were three or
four courses des petits chevaux, not so well appointed as the
permanent one in the Eoyat Park, but on the same lines,
and a number of hazard-boards and other tables, about
the size of those which the thimble-riggers used to carry-
about at English fairs. These last were new to me.
They have a hollow rim round them, into which the
player puts a large marble, which runs out on to the face
of the table, which is marked all over with numbers, six
or eight towards the centre being red, and the rest black.
If the marble stops on one of these red numbers, the
player wins ; if on a black one, the table wins. The
odds seemed to be more than twenty to one against the
player ; but if so, the tables would surely be less crowded.
As it was, they did a merry trade, never for a moment
wanting a player while we looked on. Most of these
were soldiers of the garrison, interspersed with peasants
in blouses, who dragged out their sous with every token
of disgust and resentment, but seemed quite unable to
get away from the tables. On the whole, after watching
for some time, I was confirmed in the belief that we are
right in putting down gambling in all public places.
Nothing, I suppose, can stop it ; but there is no good in
thrusting the temptation under the noses of boys and fools.
After making the round of the fair, we strolled up
the hill to the Cathedral, which dominates the city, and
looks out over as fair and rich a prospect as the world
has to show. Brassey, when he was building one of the
railways across La Limagne, the plain which stretches
away east of Clermont, is reported to have said that if
France were utterly bankrupt, the surface value of her
soil would set her on her legs again in two years ; and
326 Vacation Rambles
one can quite believe him. The streets of the old town,
which surrounds the Cathedral, are narrow and steep, but
full of old houses of rare architectural interest. Many of
them must have belonged to great folk, whose arms are
still to be seen over the doors, inside the quiet courts
through which you enter from the streets. In these one
could see, as we passed, little groups of gossips, knitting,
smoking, " causer-mg." The petit bourgeois has succeeded
to the noble, and now enjoys those grand, broad staircases
and stone balconies. They form an excellent setting to
the Cathedral, itself a grand specimen of Norman Gothic,
begun by Hugues de la Tour, the sixty-sixth bishop,
before his departure for the Crusades, and finished by
Viollet-le-Duc, who only completed the twin spires in
1877. But interesting as the Cathedral is, it is eclipsed
by the Church of Notre Dame du Port, the oldest build-
ing in Clermont. It dates from the sixth century, when
the first church was built on the site by St. Avitus,
eighteenth bishop. This was burnt 853 A.D., and re-
built by St. Sigon, forty-third bishop, in 870. Burnt
again, it was again rebuilt as it stands to-day, in the
eleventh century. In it Peter the Hermit is said to have
preached the First Crusade, when the Council called by
Pope Urban II. was sitting at Clermont. Whether this
be so or not, it is by far the most perfect and interesting
specimen of the earliest Gothic known to me ; and the
crypt underneath the chancel is unique. It is specially
dedicated to St. Mary du Port, and over the altar is the
small statue of the Virgin and Child, around and before
which votive offerings of all kinds — crosses and military
decorations, bracelets, jewels, trinkets, many of them, I
should think, of large value — hang and lie. The small
image has no beauty whatever — in fact, is just a plain
black doll — but of untold value to many generations of
Auvernois, who regard it as a talisman which has, again
and again, preserved their city from sword and pestilence.
I am not sure whether, amongst the small marble tablets
which literally cover the walls, one may not be found in
Vacation Rambles 327
memory of the great fight of Gergovia, in which Vercinge-
torix, if he did not actually defeat Caesar, turned the
great captain and his Roman legions away from this part
of Gaul. At any rate, amongst the most prominent, is
one inscribed with the names "Coulmiers," "Patay,"
"Le Mans," the battles which in 1870-71 stayed the
German advance on Clermont, and saved the capital of
Auvergne. The rest are, for the most part, private
tablets, thanksgivings for the cure of all manner of sick-
ness and disease to which flesh is heir. To this shrine
all sufferers have come in the faith which finds a voice all
round these old walls, — " Qu'on est heureux d'avoir Marie
pour mere " ! That human instinct which longs for a
female protectrix and mediator " behind the veil," speaks
here, too, as it did 2000 years ago, when the ayaXfia
£i'Aivov 'Adrp'rjs d\e£iKo.Kov guarded the shrines of Athens
and her colonies.
SCOPPIO DEL CaRRO
Florence, Faster Eve, 1891.
I have just come back from witnessing an extra-
ordinary, and, I should think, a unique ceremony, which
is enacted here on Easter Eve ; and, on sitting down
quietly to think it over, can scarcely say whether I am
most inclined to laugh, or to cry, or to swear. In truth,
the " Scoppio del Carro " — or " explosion of the fireworks "
— as it is called, is a curious comment on, or illustration
of, your last week's remarks on Superstitions. "The
carefully preserved dry husk of outward observance " in
this case undoubtedly speaks, to those who have ears to
hear, of a heroic time, and the spectator rubs his eyes,
and feels somehow —
As though he looked upon the sheath
Which once had clasped Excalibur.
At any rate, that is rather how I felt, as, standing at noon
in the dense crowd in the nave of the Duomo, I saw the
328 Vacation Rambles
procession pass within a few feet of me, on their way from
the great entrance up to the high altar, which was ablaze
already with many tall candles. Although within a few
feet, the intervening crowd was so thick that I could only
see the heads and shoulders of the taller choristers and
priests as they passed ; but I saw plainly enough, though
the wearer was low of stature, the tall mitre — it looked
like gold — which the Archbishop wore as he walked in the
procession. Our bishops, I am told, are wearing or going
to wear them (Heaven save the mark !), which made me
curious. They threaded their way slowly up to the high
altar ; and presently we heard in the distance intoning
and chants; and then, after brief pause, the dove (so called)
started from the crucifix, I think, at any rate from a high
point on the altar, for the open door. But in order to be
clear as to what the dove carries and is supposed to do,
we must go back to the Second Crusade.
I give the story as I make it out by comparing the
accounts in various guide-books with those of residents
interested in such matters. These differ much in detail,
but not as to the main facts. These are, that in 1147
A.D. a Florentine noble of the Pazzi family, Raniero by
name, joined, some say led, the 2500 Tuscans who went
on the Crusade. In any case, he greatly distinguished
himself by his courage, and is said to have planted the
first standard of the Cross on the walls of Jerusalem. For
this he was allowed to take a light from the sacred fire on
the Holy Sepulchre, which he desired to carry back to his
much-loved F'orence. An absurd part of the legend now
comes in. Finding the wind troublesome as he rode with
the light, he turned round, with his face to his horse's tail
(as if the wind always blew in Crusaders' faces), and so at
last brought it safely home, where his ungrateful fellow-
citizens, when they saw him come riding in this fashion,
called out, "Pazzo!" "Pazzo!" or "Mad!" which his
family forthwith wisely adopted as their patronymic.
The sacred fire was housed in a shrine in St. Biagio,
built by Raniero, and has never been allowed to go out
Vacation Rambles 329
since that day — so it is said — and from it yearly are
relighted all the candles used in Florentine churches at
the Easter festival. It is a striking custom. Gradually,
during the Good Friday services, the lights are ex-
tinguished in the Duomo, and all the churches, till at
midnight they are in darkness, and are only relit next day
by fire brought even yet by a Pazzi, a descendant of
Raniero, from St. Biagio. This is, however, doubtful,
some authorities asserting that the family is extinct,
others that it not only exists, but still spends 2000 lire a
year in preserving the sacred fire. A stranger has no
means that I know of, of sifting out the fact. Anyhow,
I can testify that somehow the fire is in the Duomo before
noon, as any number of candles were alight on the high
altar when I got there at 11.30, half an hour before the
procession. Anything more orderly than the great crowd
I have never seen. It was of all nations, languages, and
ranks, though the great majority were Tuscan peasants
with their families from all the surrounding country,
waiting in eager expectation for the flight of the dove
from the high altar, through the doors to the great car
which stands waiting outside at the bottom of the
broad steps in front of the Duomo. If the dove makes a
successful flight, and lights the fireworks which are hung
round the car, there will be a good harvest and abundance
of wine and oil, and of oranges and lemons. This year
the faces of the peasants and their wives and children —
and most attractive brown faces they were — were anxious,
for it had been raining hard in the morning, and still drops
were falling. However, all went well. At about 12.10
the chanting ceased, and the dove — a small firework of the
rocket genus — rushed down the nave, some ten feet over
our heads, along a thin wire which I had not noticed before,
and set light promptly to the fireworks on the car, which
began to turn and explode, not without considerable
fizzing and spluttering, but on the whole successfully.
Then the dove turned and came back, still alight, and
leaving a trail of sparks as it sped along, to the high
330 Vacation Rambles
altar. How it was received there, and what became of it,
I cannot say, as I was swept along in the rush to the
doors which immediately folloAved, and had enough to do
to pilot my companion, a lady, to the new centre of
interest. This was the car to which the sacred fire had
now been transferred, and which was about to start on its
round to the other churches. It is chocolate-coloured, and
spangled with stars, some twenty feet high, surmounted by
a large crown and Catherine-wheel. As our crowd swept
out of the Duomo and down the steps, to mingle with the
still larger crowd outside, men were rehanging the car
with fresh fireworks, and putting-to four mighty white
oxen, gaily garlanded. I remarked that the conductor, a
tall, six-foot man, could not look over the shoulder of one
of these shaft-oxen as he was harnessing him in the shafts !
There could be no question as to the very best place
for spectators. It was the centre of the top step leading
up to the Duomo facade ; and, finding ourselves there, we
stopped and let the crowd surge past us. Almost at once
I became aware that this favoured spot was occupied by
the English-speaking race almost exclusively, the accent
of cousin Jonathan, I think, on the whole predominating.
Two Italian boys looked up at us with large, lustrous
brown eyes ; otherwise the natives were absent. It seems
like a sort of law of social gravitation, that in these latter
days the speakers of our language should get into all the
world's best places, and having got there should stop.
One cannot much wonder that the speakers in other
tongues should feel now and then as if they were being
rather crowded out. We did not pursue the car as it
lumbered away under the glorious campanile, surrounded
by the rejoicing multitude, for the sun had now got the
upper hand, and the whole city and plain right away to
the lower hills, and the snow-capped Apennines in the
background, were aglow with the sort of subdued purple
or amethyst light which seems to me to differentiate
Tuscany from all other countries known to me. Now,
gradually to put out all the lights in the churches on
Vacation Rambles 331
Good Friday, and to relight them from fire from the Holy-
Sepulchre next day, seems to me a worthy and pathetic
custom ; but this mixing it up with the firework business,
and having the Bishop and all the strength of the
Cathedral out to help in this dove trick, spoils the whole
thing, and makes one wish one had not gone to see it,
recalling too forcibly, as it does to an Englishman, the
Crystal Palace on a fireworks' night, and the similar
" dove " which travels from the Eoyal Gallery, where too-
well-fed citizens and others sit smoking, to light the great
" concerted piece " in the grounds below. It was like
inserting "Abracadabra!" in the middle of the "Miserere."
P.S.— 1 Since writing the above, we have had an arrival
in Florence which will interest your readers, — to wit, fifty
young persons of both sexes from Toynbee Hall, with Mr.
Bolton King as conductor ; and the English community
are doing all they can to make their stay pleasant. On
the morrow of their arrival Lady Hobart entertained
them at her villa of Montauto, the one in which Haw-
thorne wrote Transformation. It is a thirteenth-century
house, or, I should rather say, that the villa, with its
large, airy suite of rooms, with vaulted ceilings, has grown
round a machicolated tower of that date, the highest
building on the Bellosquardo Hill, to the south-west of
the city. From the top of it, reached by rather rickety
and casual old stairs, there is, I should think, as glorious
a view as the world can show, — a perfect panorama, with
Florence lying right below, and beyond, Fiesole and
Vallombrosa, and the village of stone-cutters on the slope
of the Apennines, which reared the greatest of stone-
cutters, Michael Angelo, and beyond, the highest
Apennines, still snow-covered ; and to the north, the
rich plain of vineyards, and olive-groves, and orange
and lemon gardens, thickly sprinkled with the bright
white houses of the peasant cultivators and the graceful
campaniles of village churches, beyond which one could
see clearly on this "white-stone" day the snow-clad peaks
of the Carrara Mountains in the far north. I can hardly
33 2 Vacation Rambles
say whether the Toynbee visitors, or those who were
gathered to welcome them by the hospitable hostess,
enjoyed the unrivalled view most ; but this we soon dis-
covered, that the visitors were about as well acquainted
with the story of each point of interest, as it was pointed
out to them, as the oldest resident. Surely the school-
master is at last abroad with us in England in many ways
of which we have good right to feel proud, and for which
we may well be thankful.
A Scamper at Easter
8th April 1893.
No one can dislike more than I the habit which has
become so common of late years amongst us — thanks, or
rather no thanks, to Mr. Gladstone — of running down
our own English ways of dealing with all creation, from
Irishmen to black-beetles. I believe, on the contrary, that
on the whole there is not, nor ever was, a nation that kept
a more active conscience, or tried more honestly to do the
right thing all round according to its lights. Neverthe-
less, I am bound to admit that our methods don't always
succeed, as, for instance, with our treatment of our " sub-
merged tenth," if that is the accepted name for the section
of our peojDle which Mr. C. Booth, in his excellent Life
and Labour in London, places in his A and B classes (and
which, by the way, are only 8 - 2, and not 10 per cent), or
with our seagulls. Some years ago I called your readers'
attention to the rapid demoralisation of these beautiful
birds at one of our northern watering-places ; how they
just floated past the pier-heads hour after hour, waiting
for the doles which the holiday folk and their children
brought down for them in paper -bags. Our sea -going
gulls, I regret to note, are now similarly affected. At
any rate, some forty of them diligently followed the
steamer in which I sailed for my Easter holiday, from the
Liverpool docks till we dropped our pilot and turned due
Vacation Rambles 333
south off Holyhead. By that time our last meal had been
eaten and the remains cast into the sea. The gulls
seemed to be quite aware of this ; and we left them
squabbling over the last scraps of fish and potatoes, or
loafing slowly back to Liverpool. Thirty-six hours later
we entered the Garonne, and steamed sixty miles up it to
Bordeaux. For all that distance there were plenty of
French gulls on the water or in the air, but, so far from
following us, not one of them seemed to take the least
notice of us, but all went on quietly with their fishing or
courting ; and yet our cook's mate must have thrown out
as much broken victuals after breakfast in the Garonne
as he did after luncheon or dinner on the Welsh coast. It
cannot be because the French gulls are Republicans, for
the Republic has, if anything, increased the national
appetite for unearned loaves and fishes. It is certainly
very odd ; but, anyhow, I hope our gulls will not take to
more self-respecting ways of life, for it is a real treat to
watch them in the ship's wake, without effort, often without
perceptible motion of the wings, keeping up the fourteen
knots an hour. The Captain and I fraternised over the
gulls, whom he loves, and will not allow to be shot at
from his ship. "I'll shoot whether you like it or not,"
insisted a sporting gent on a recent voyage. " If you do,
I'll put you in irons," retorted the Captain ; whereupon
the sporting gent collapsed — -a pity, I think, for an action
for false imprisonment would have been interesting under
the circumstances. I fancy the Captain is right, but must
look up the law after Easter.
I am surprised that this route is not more popular
with the increasing numbers of our people who like a
short run to the south of France in our hard spring
weather. You can get by this way to Bordeaux quicker
than you can by Dover or Folkestone from any place
north of Trent, unless you travel day and night, and sleep
on the trains, and for about half the money. The packets
are cargo-boats, but with excellent cabins and sleeping
accommodation for twelve or fourteen passengers, including
334 Vacation Rambles
as good a bath as on a Cunard or White Star liner.
And yet I was the only passenger last week. There can
scarcely be a more interesting short voyage for any one
who is a decent sailor ; but I suppose the fourteen or six-
teen hours " in the Bay of Biscay, oh ! " scares people.
As far as my experience goes, the Atlantic roars like a
sucking-dove in the Channel and the Bay at Easter-time.
There was not wind enough to dimple the ocean surface,
and until we passed Milford Haven, no perceptible motion
on the ship. Then, as we crossed the opening of the
Bristol Channel, she began to roll — quite unaccountably,
as it seemed at first; but on watching carefully, one
became aware that, though the surface was motionless,
the great deep beneath was heaving with long pulsations
from the west, which lifted us in regular cadence every
thirty or forty seconds. I have often crossed the Atlantic,
but never seen the like, as always before there has been a
ripple on the calmest day, which gave the effect, at any
rate, of surface motion. The best idea I can give of it is,
if on a long stretch of our South Downs the successive
turf slopes took to rising and falling perpendicularly every
minute. The Captain said there must have been wild
weather out west, and these were the rollers. It was a
grand sight to watch the great heave pass on till it reached
the Land's End, and ran up the cliffs there. We passed
near enough to see the mining works, close to the level of
high-tide, and the villages on the cliff-tops above, or cling-
ing on to the slopes wherever these were not too pre-
cipitous. One can realise what manner of men and sailors
this Far West has bred of old, and, I hope, still breeds.
I pity the Englishman whose pulse does not quicken as he
sails by the Land's End, and can see with a glass some of
the small harbours out of which Drake and Frobisher and
Hawkins sailed, and drew the crews that followed and
fought the Armada right away to the Straits of Dover.
As the Land's End light receded, we became aware of
another light away some twenty miles to the south-west.
It is on a rock not fifty yards across, the Captain says, at
Vacation Rambles 335
high tide, and often unapproachable for weeks together —
" The Hawk," by name, on which are kept four lighthouse-
men, who spend there alternate months, weather permit-
ting. I was glad to hear that there are four at a time, as
the sight of " The Hawk " brought vividly to my mind
the gruesome story of fifty years back, when there were
only two men, who were known not to be good friends.
One died, and his companion had to wait with the dead
body for weeks before his relief came.
I noticed, before we were two hours out, that there
was something unusually smart about the crew, quite what
one would look for on the Umbria or Germanic, but scarcely
on a 700-tons cai-go-boat plying to Bordeaux. Several of
the young hands were fine British tars, with the splendid
throats and great muscular hands and wrists which stand
out so well from the blue woollen jerseys ; but the one
who struck me most was the ship's carpenter, a gray,
weather-beaten old salt, who was going round quietly, but
all the time with his broad-headed hammer, setting little
things straight, helping to straighten the tarpaulins over
the hatches and deck-cargo, and sounding the well. I
caught him now and then for a few Avoids, as he passed
my deck-chair, and got the clue. Most of the crew were
Naval Reserve men, and followed the Captain, a lieutenant
in the R.N.R., who could fly the blue ensign in foreign
ports, which they liked. Besides, he was a skipper who
cared for his men, looked after their mess and berths, and
never wanted to make anything out of them ; charged
them only a shilling a pound for their baccy, the price at
which he could get it out of bond, while most skippers
charged 2s. 6d., the shop price. He had come to this
boat while his big ship was laid up in dock, to oblige the
owners, so they had followed him. Besides, he never put
them to any work he wouldn't bear a hand in ; had stood
for hours up to his waist last year in the hold when they
were bringing five hundred cattle and seven hundred hogs
from Canada, running before a heavy gale. The water
they shipped was putting out the engine fires, and the
336 Vacation Rambles
pumps wouldn't work till they had bailed for ten hours.
However, they got in all right, and never lost a beast.
Of course I was keen to hear the Captain on this subject,
and so broached it at his table. Yes, it was quite true ;
they had run before a heavy gale from off Newfoundland,
and the pumps gave out off the Irish coast. They got the
sludge bailed out enough for all the fires to get to work
just about in time, or would have drifted on the rocks and
gone all to pieces in a few minutes. Yes, it was about
the nastiest piece of work he had ever had to do ; the
sludge, for it was only half water, was above his waist,
and had quite spoiled his uniform. The deck engineer — a
light-haired man, all big bones and muscle, whom he pointed
out to me — was in the deepest part of the hold up to his
arm-pits, and had worked there for ten hours without
coming up ! He was a R.N.R. man, like the old carpenter
and most of the rest. The old fellow was one of the
staunchest and best followers, probably because he was
tired of going aground. He had been aground seventeen
times ! for the Captain in his last ship had a way of
charging shoals, merely saying, " Oh, she'll jump it ! "
which she generally declined to do. The Captain is a
strong Churchman, but shares the prejudice against carry-
ing ministers. " The devil always has a show " when
you're carrying a minister. The first time he tried it, he
was taking out his own brother, and they were twenty-two
days late at Montreal. It was an awful crossing, a gale
in their teeth all the way ; most of the ships that started
with them had to put back. I suggested that if he hadn't
had his brother on board, he mightn't have got over at
all ; but he wouldn't see it. Next time, a man fell from
the mast-head and was killed; and the next, a man jumped
overboard. He would never carry a minister again if he
could help it.
One pilot took us out to Holyhead, but it took three
French ones to take us up to Bordeaux. The Garonne
banks are only picturesque here and there ; but the flat
banks have their own interest, for do we not see the
Vacation Rambles ^7
choicest vineyards of the claret country as we run up 1
There was the Chateau Lafitte and the Chateau Margaux.
I suppose one ought within one's heart, or rather, within
one's palate perhaps, " to have felt a stir " —
As though one looked upon the sheath
"Which once had clasped Excalibur.
But I could not tell the difference between Margaux and
any decent claret with my eyes shut, so I did not feel
any stir — unless, perhaps, as a patriot, when we passed
much the most imposing establishment, and the Captain
said, " That is Chateau Gilbey " ! I looked with silent
wonder, for did I not remember years ago, when the
Gladstone Grocers' Licences Bill was young, and the
Christie Minstrels sung scoffingly —
Ten little niggers going out to dine,
One drank Gilbey, and then there were nine ?
And here was Gilbey with the finest " caves " and the
choicest vineyard in the Bordelaise ! Who can measure
the competitive energy of the British business-man 1
I must end as I set out, with the birds. As we neared
the mouth of the Garonne, sixteen miles from land, the
Captain said, two little water -wagtails flitted into the
rigging. There they rested a few minutes, and then, to
my grief, started off out to sea, but again and again came
back to the ship. At last a sailor caught one, and the
Captain secured it and took it to his cabin, but thought it
would be sure to die. It was the hen-bird. She did not
die, but flitted away cheerfully when he brought her out
and let her fly on the quay of Bordeaux. But I fear she
will never find her mate.
LOURDES
15th April 1893.
The farthest point south in our Easter scamper was
Lourdes, to which I found that my companions were more
z
33& Vacation Rambles
bent on going than to any other possible place within
our range. The attractions even of the Pass of Ronces-
valles, of St. Sebastian, and the Pyrenean battle-fields of
1814, faded with them before those of the nineteenth-
century Port Royal. At first I said I would not go.
The fact is, I am one of the old-fashioned folk who hold
that some day the kingdoms of this world are to become
the kingdoms of Christ, and that all peoples are to be
gathered " in one fold under one Shepherd." It has
always seemed to me that one of the surest ways of
postponing that good time is to be suspicious of other
faiths than our own ; to accuse them of blind superstition
and deliberate imposture ; even to walk round their
churches as if they were museums or picture-galleries,
while people are kneeling in prayer. So I said " No " ;
I would stop on the terrace at Pan, with one of the most
glorious views in the world to look at, and carefully
examine Henry IV.'s chateau, or go and get a round of
golf with my hibernating fellow-countrymen. I thought
that the probable result of visiting Lourdes might be to
make me more inclined to think a large section of my
fellow-mortals dupes, and their priests humbugs — con-
clusions I was anxious to avoid. However, I changed
my mind at the last moment, and am heartily glad I did.
It is an easy twenty miles (about) from Pau, from which
you run straight to the Pyrenees, and pull up in a green
nook of the outlying lower mountains, where two valleys
meet, which run back towards the higher snow-capped
range. They looked so tempting to explore, as did also
the grim old keep on the high rock which divides them
and completely dominates the little town, that twenty
years ago I couldn't have resisted, and should have gone
for an afternoon's climb. But I am grown less lissom, if
not wiser, and so took my place meekly in the fly which
my companions had chartered for the grotto. We were
through the little town in a few minutes, the only note-
worthy thing being the number of women who offered us
candles of all sizes to burn before the Madonna's statue
Vacation Rambles 339
in the grotto, and the number of relic-shops. Emerging
from the street, we found ourselves in front of a green
lawn, at the other end of which was a fine white marble
church, almost square, with a dome — more like a mosque,
I thought, than a Western church ; and up above this
another tall Gothic church, with a fine spire, to which
the pilgrims ascend by two splendid semi-circular flights
of easy, broad steps, one on each side of the lower church,
and holding it, as it were, in their arms. We, however,
drove up the steep ascent outside the left or southern
staircase, and got down at the door of the higher church,
which is built on the rock at the bottom of which is the
famous spring and grotto. We entered by a spacious
porch, where my attention was at once arrested by the
mural tablets of white marble, each of which commemor-
ated the cure of some sufferer : " Eeconnaissance pour la
guerison de mon fils," " de ma fille," etc., being at least
as frequent as those for the cure of the person who put
up the tablet. I thought at first I would count them,
but soon gave it up, as not only this big vestibule, but
the walls of all the chapels, and of the big church below
(built, I was told, and hope, by the Duke of Norfolk at
his own cost), are just covered with them. This upper
church was a perfect blaze of light and colour, much too
gorgeous for my taste ; but what the decorations were
which gave this effect I cannot say, as I was entirely
absorbed in noting the votive offerings of all kinds which
were hung round each of the shrines, both here and in
the lower church. The most noteworthy of these, to my
mind, are the number of swords, epaulettes, and military
decorations, which their owners have hung up as thank-
offerings. I do not suppose that French officers and
privates differ much from ours, and I am bold to assert
that Tommy Atkins would not part with his cross or
medal, or his captain, for that matter, with his epaulettes
or sword, if they had gone away from Lourdes no better
in body than when they went there hobbling from
wounds, or tottering from fever or ague.
34° Vacation Rambles
When we had seen the upper church we went down a
long flight of circular stairs, and came out in the lower
(Duke of Norfolk's) church, — much more interesting, I
think, architecturally, and decorated in better, because
quieter, taste than the upper one. From this we went
round to the grotto in the rock, on which the upper
church stands, and in which the famous spring rises, and
over it a not unpleasant (I cannot say more) statue of
the Madonna ; and all round candles alight of all sizes,
from farthing-dips to colossal moulds, many of which had
been burning, they said, for a week. A single, quiet old
priest sat near the entrance reading his Missal, but only
speaking when spoken to. In front were ranged long
rows of chairs, on which sat or knelt some dozen pilgrims
with wistful faces, waiting, perhaps, for the troubling of
the waters. These are carried from the grotto to a series
of basins along the rock outside, at one of which two
poor old crones with sore eyes were bathing them, and
talking Basque (I believe) — at any rate some unknown
tongue to me. I should have liked to hear their ex-
periences, but they couldn't understand a word of my
Anglican French. Here, again, the most striking object
is the mass of crutches of all shapes and sizes, and fear-
some-looking bandages, which literally cover the rock on
each side of the entrance to the grotto, for the space (I
should guess) of fourteen or fifteen feet on one side, and
ten or twelve on the other.
And so we finished our inspection, and went back to
our fly, which we had ordered to meet us at the end
of the lawn above mentioned, which lies between the
churches and the town ; and so to the railway station,
and back to Biarritz by Pau. I daresay that people
who go there at the times when the great bodies of
pilgrims come, may carry away a very different impres-
sion from mine. All I can say is, that I never was in a
place where there was less concealment of any kind ; and
there was no attempt whatever to influence you in any
way by priest or attendant. There were all the buildings
Vacation Rambles 341
and the grotto open, and you could examine them and
their contents undisturbed for any time you chose to give
to them, and draw from your examination whatever con-
clusions you pleased. So I, for one, can only repeat that
I am heartily glad that I went ; and shall think better of
my Eoman Catholic brethren as the result of my visit
for the rest of my life.
Of course, the main interest of Lourdes lies in the
world-old controversy between the men of science and the
men of faith, as to the reality of the alleged facts —
miracles, as many folk call them — of the healing pro-
perties which the waters of this famous spring, or the air
'of Lourdes, or the Madonna, or some other unknown
influence, are alleged to possess, and to be freely available
for invalid pilgrims who care to make trial of them.
Every one in those parts that I met, at Lourdes itself, at
Pau, Biarritz, Bayonne, is interested in the question and
ready to discuss it. Perhaps I can best indicate the
points of the debate by formulating the arguments on
each side which I heard, putting them into the mouths of
representative men — a doctor and a priest. I was lucky
enough to fall in with an excellent representative of the
scientific side, an able and open-minded M.D. on his
travels. I had no opportunity of speaking to one of the
priests ; but their side of the argument is stoutly upheld
by at least half of the people one meets.
Dr. — They are nothing but what are called faith-cures,
akin to those which the Yankee Sequah effects when he
goes round our northern towns in his huge car, with his
brass band and attendant Indian Sachems in the costume
of the prairie. Of course, here the surroundings are far
more impressive and serious ; but the cures are the same
for all that — some action of the nerves which makes
patients believe they are cured, when they are not really.
Probably nine-tenths are just as bad again in a few months.
Priest. — Well, don't we say they are faith-cures 1 We
don't pretend that we can do them, as this Sequah you
talk about does. You allow that great numbers think
34 2 Vacation Rambles
they are cured, and walk about without crutches or
bandages, or pains in their bodies, and enjoy life again
for a time at any rate ; which is more than you can do
for them, or they wouldn't come here to be healed.
Dr. — How long do they walk about without crutches
or pains in their limbs 1 Why don't you take us behind
the scenes, and let us test and follow up some of these
cures 1
Priest. — We can't take you behind the scenes, for there
are no scenes to go behind. We tell you we don't do the
cures, or know precisely how they are done. We can't
hinder your inquiries, and don't want to hinder them if
we could. There are the tablets of " reconnaissance,"'
with names and addresses ; you can go to these, if you like,
or talk to the patients Avhom you see at the spring or in
the chapels.
Dr. — Come, now ! You don't really mean to say you
believe that our Lord's Mother appeared to this girl on
23rd March 1858, and told her that this Lourdes was a
specially favourite place with her ; and that she has
since that time given these special healing qualities to
the water or air of Lourdes, or whatever it is that causes
these effects at this place 1
Priest. — We mean to say that the girl thoroughly
believed it, and we hold that her impression — her
certainty — didn't come from the devil, as it must if it
was a lie ; that it wasn't the mere dream of a hysterical
girl, and was not given her for nothing. Else, how can
one account for these buildings, costing, perhaps, as much
as one of your finest cathedrals, all put up in thirty-five
years 1
Dr. — Yes ; but that doesn't answer my question.
Did the Mother of our Lord appear to this girl, and is it
she who works the cures 1
Priest. — If you mean by " appear," " come visibly,"
we don't know. But you should remember always that
the French have a very different feeling about the
Madonna from you English. Perhaps you can't help
Vacation Rambles 343
connecting her with another French girl, Joan of Arc,
who believed the Madonna had appeared to her and told
her she should turn you English out of France, which she
did — a more difficult and costly job even than building
these churches.
Dr. — Well, we won't argue about the Madonna, and I
am quite ready to admit that the evidence you have here,
in the tablets and votive offerings, the crutches and
bandages, are prund-facle proof that numbers of pilgrims
have gone away from Lourdes under the impression that
they were cured. What I maintain is, that you have not
shown, and cannot show, that your cures are not merely
due to the absorption of diseased tissue as the result of
strong excitement — an effect not at all common, but
quite recognised as not unfrequent by some of the
highest authorities in medical science.
There the controversy rests, I think ; at any rate, so
far as I heard it debated ; and I must own that the
scientific explanation does not seem to me to hold water.
To take one instance, would the absorption of diseased
tissue drive a piece of cloth out of a soldier's leg or
body 1 Perhaps yes, for what I know â– but would the
excitement of a mother cure the disease of her child ?
These two classes of cures (of which there are a great
number) struck me, perhaps, more than any of the rest.
But I must not take up more of your space, and can only
advise all your readers who are really interested in this
problem to take the first opportunity they can of going
to Lourdes, and, if possible, as we did, at a time when
the great bodies of pilgrims are not there, and they can
quietly examine the facts there, for — pace the doctors and
men of science — these tablets, swords, crutches, etc., are
facts which they are bound to acknowledge and investigate.
I shall be surprised if they do not come away, as I did,
with a feeling that they have seen a deeply interesting
sight for which it is well worth while to come from
England, and that there are two sides to this question of
the Lourdes miracles (so-called), either of which any
344 Vacation Rambles
o
reverent student of the world in which he is living may
conscientiously hold.
FONTARABIA
22nd April 1893.
Every year the truth of Bums's "the best -laid
schemes o' mice and men gang aft a-gley," comes more
home to me. From the time I was ten the Pass of
Roncesvalles has had a fascination for me. Then the
habit of ballad-singing was popular, and a relative of mine
had a well-deserved repute in that line. Amongst her
old-world favourites were " Roland the Brave " and
" Durandarte." The first told how Roland left his castle
on the Rhine, where he used to listen to the chanting in
the opposite convent, in which his lady-love had taken
the veil on the false report of his death, and "think she
blessed him in her prayer when the hallelujah rose " ;
and followed Charlemagne in his Spanish raid, till " he
fell and wished to fall " at Roncesvalles. The second,
how Durandarte, dying in the fatal pass, sent his last
message to his mistress by his cousin Montesinos. In
those days I never could hear the last lines without
feeling gulpy in the throat : —
Kind in manners, fail* in favour,
Mild in temper, fierce in fight, —
Warrior purer, gentler, braver,
Never shall behold the light.
They may not be good poetry, but Monk Lewis, the
author, never wrote any others as good. Then Lockhart's
Spanish Ballads were given me, and in one of the
best of those stirring rhymes, Bernardo del Carpio's
bearding of his King, I read —
The life of King Alphonso I saved at Roncesval,
Your word, Lord King, was recompense abundant for it all ;
Your horse was down, your hope was flown ; I saw the falchion
shine
That soon had drunk thy royal blood had I not ventured mine, etc.
Vacation Rambles 345
Then, a little later, a family friend who had been an
ensign in the Light Division in July 1813, used to make
our boyish pulses dance with his tales of the week's
fighting in and round Eoncesvalles, when Soult was
driven over the Pyrenees and Spain was freed. And
again, later, came the tale of Taillefer, the Conqueror's
minstrel, riding before the line at the battle of Hastings,
tossing his sword in the air, and chanting the " Song of
Roland," and of the " Peers who fell at Roncesvalles."
So you will believe, sir, that my first thought when I got
to Biarritz, with the Pyrenees in full view less than
twenty miles off, was, " Now I shall see the pass where
Charlemagne's peers, and five hundred British soldiers as
brave as any paladin of them all, had fought and died."
The holidays galloped, and one day only was left, when
at our morning conference I found that my companions
were bent on Fontarabia and San Sebastian, and assured
me we could combine the three, as Roncesvalles, they
heard, was close to Fontarabia. Then my faith in Sir
Walter — combined, I fear, Avith my defective training in
geography — led me astray, for had he not written in the
battle-canto of Murmion: —
Oh, for one blast of that dread horn,
On Fontarabian echoes borne,
That to King Charles did come,
When Roland brave, and Oliver,
And every Paladin and Peer,
At Roncesvalles died, etc.
Now, of course, if Charlemagne could hear the horn of
Roland on the top of the pass where he turned back,
" borne on Fontarabian echoes," then Fontarabia must be
at the foot of the pass, where Roland and the rear-guard
were surrounded and fighting for their lives. In a weak
moment I agreed to Fontarabia and San Sebastian, and
so shall most likely never see Roncesvalles. It is fourteen
miles distant as the crow flies, or thereabouts ; and I warn
your readers that the three can't be done in one long day
from Biarritz.
5
46 Vacation Rambles
However, I am bound to admit that Fontarabia and
San Sebastian make a most interesting day's work. I
had never been in Spain before, and so was well on the
alert when a fellow -passenger, as we slowed on ap-
proaching Irun station, pointed across the sands below us
and said, " There's Fontarabia ! " There, perhaps two
miles oft", lay a small gray town on a low hill with castle
and church at the top, and gateway and dilapidated walls
on the side towards us, looking as though it might have
gone off to sleep in the seventeenth century — a really
curious contrast to bustling Biarritz from which we had
just come. We went down to the ferry and took a punt
to cross the river, which threaded the broad sands left by
the tide. It was full ebb ; so our man had to take us a
long round, giving us welcome time for the view, which,
when the tide is up, must be glorious. Our bare-footed
boatman, though Basque or Spaniard, was quite "up to
date," and handled his punt pole in a style which would
make him a formidable rival of the Oxford watermen in
the punt race by Christ Church meadow, which, I suppose,
is still held at the end of the summer term. A narrow,
rough causeway led us from the landing-place to the
town-gate in the old wall, where an artist who had joined
the party was so taken with the view up the main street
that he sat down at once to about as difficult a sketch as
he will meet in a year's rambles. For from the gateway
the main street runs straight up the hill to the ruined
castle and church at the top. It is narrow, steep, and
there are not two houses alike all the way up. They
vary from what must have been palaces of the grandees
— with dim coats-of-arms still visible over the doorways,
and elaborately carved, deep eaves, almost meeting those
of their opposite neighbours across the street — to poor,
almost squalid houses, reaching to the second story of their
aristocratic neighbours', but all with deep, overhanging,
though uncarved eaves, showing, I take it, how the
Spaniard values his shade. Up we went to the church
and castle, the ladies looking wistfully into such shops as
Vacation Rambles 347
there were, to find something to buy ; but I fancy in
vain. Xot a tout appeared to offer his services ; or a
shopkeeper, male or female, to sell us anything. Such of the
Fontarabians as we saw looked at us with friendly enough
brown eyes, which, however, seemed to say, " Silly souls !
Why can't you stop at home and mind your own business % "
Even at the end of our inspection, when we spread our
lunch on a broad stone slab near the gate — the tombstone
once, I should think, of a paladin — there being no houses
of entertainment visible to us, we had almost a difficulty
in attracting three or four children and a stray dog to
share our relics.
The old castle is of no special interest, though there
were a few rusty old iron tubes lying about, said to have
once been guns, which I should doubt ; and Charles V. is
said to have often lived there during his French wars. The
church is very interesting, from its strong contrast with
those over the border — square, massive, sombre, with
no attempt at decoration or ornament round the high
brass altars, except here and there a picture, and small
square windows quite high up in the walls, through
which the quiet, subdued light comes. The pictures, with
one exception, were of no interest ; but that one exception
startled and fascinated me. The subject is the " Mater
Dolorosa," a full-length figure standing, the breast bare,
and seven knives plunged in the heart, — a coarse and
repulsive painting, but entirely redeemed by the intense
expression of the love, the agony, and the sorely shaken
faith which are contending for mastery in the face. The
painter must have been suddenly inspired, or some great
master must have stepped in to finish the work. San
Sebastian does not do after Fontarabia ; a fine modern
town, with some large churches and a big new bull-ring,
but of little interest except for the fort which dominates
the town on the sea-front. How that fort was stormed,
after one repulse and a long siege of sixty-three days ;
how, in the two assaults and siege, more than four
thousand gallant soldiers of the British and allied army
348 Vacation Rambles
fell ; and the fearful story of the sack and burning of
the old town by the maddened soldiers, is to me almost
the saddest episode in our military history. I was glad
when we had made our cursory inspection and got back
to the station on our return to Biarritz. That brightest
and most bustling of health resorts was our head-quarters,
and I should think for young English folk must be about
the most enjoyable above ground. I knew that it was
becoming a formidable rival of the Riviera for spring
quarters, but was not at all prepared for the facts.
Almost the first thing I saw was a group of young
Englishmen in faultless breeches and gaiters, just come
back from a meet of the pack of hounds; next came
along some fine strapping girls in walking costume, bent,
I should think, on exploring the neighbouring battle-
grounds ; next, men and youths in flannels, bound for the
golf links, where a handicap is going on (I wonder what
a French caddie is like 1) ; then I heard of, but did not
see, the start of the English coach for Pau (it runs daily) ;
and then youths on bicycles, unmistakable Britons, —
though the French youth have taken kindly, I hear, to this
pastime. There are four gigantic hotels at which friends
told me that nothing is heard but English at their tables
d'hdte ; and in the quiet and excellent small " Hotel de
Bayonne," at which we stayed, having heard that it was
a favourite with the French, out of the forty guests or
thereabouts, certainly three-fourths were English, and the
other one-fourth mostly Americans. On Easter Monday
there was a procession of cars, with children in fancy
dresses representing the local industries ; but the biggest
was that over which the Union Jack waved, and a small
and dainty damsel sat on the throne surrounded by boys
in the orthodox rig of a man-of-war's-man and Tommy
Atkins. In fact, a vast stream of very solvent English
seem to have fairly stormed and occupied the place, to the
great delight of the native car-drivers and shopkeepers ;
and so grotesque was it that Byron's cynical doggerel kept
sounding in my head as, at any rate, appropriate to Biarritz :
Vacation Rambles 349
The world is a bundle of hay,
Mankind are the asses that pull ;
Each tugs in a different way,
And the greatest of all is John Bull.
But, apart from all the high jinks and festive goings-on,
there is one spot in Biarritz which may well prove a
magnet to us, and before which we should stand with
uncovered heads and sorrowfully proud hearts ; and that
is the fine porch of the English church. One whole side
of it is filled by a tablet, at the head of which one reads :
" Prist inx virtufis memor. This porch, dedicated to the
memory of the officers, non-commissioned officers, and
men of the British army, who fell in the south-west of
France from 7th October 1813 to 14th April 1814, was
erected by their fellow-soldiers and compatriots, 1882."
Then come the names of forty-eight Line regiments, and
the German Legion, followed in each case by the death-roll,
the officers' names given in full. Let me end with a few
examples. The 42 nd lost ten officers — two at Nive, one
at Orthez, and seven at Toulouse; the 43rd — five at
Nivelle and Bayonne ; the 57th — six at Nivelle and
Nive; the 79th — five at Toulouse, of whom three bore
the name of Cameron; the 95th — six at the Bidassoa,
Nivelle, and Nive. Such a record, I think, brings home
to one even more vividly than Napier's pages the cost to
England of her share in the uprising of Europe against
Napoleon ; and it only covers six months of a seven
years' struggle in the Peninsula ! At the bottom of the
tablet are the simple words : —
Give peace in our time, oh Lord !
Echoes from Auvergne
La Boueboule, 2nd July 1893.
We had heard through telegrams and short paragraphs
in the French papers of the sinking of the Victoria
before the Spectator of 1st July came to us here, in these
350 Vacation Rambles
far-away highlands of Auvergne ; but yours was the first
trustworthy account in any detail which reached us. I
am sure that others must have felt as thankful to you as
I did, for your word was worthy the occasion, and told
as it should be told, one of the stories which ennoble a
nation, and remain a /v-n^px et's aei for all time. The
lonely figure on the bridge is truly, as you say, a subject
for a great pictorial artist, and belongs " rather to the
poet than the journalist " ; and one trusts that Sir George
Tryon's may stand out hereafter in worthy verse as one
of " the few clarion names " in our annals. But it was
surely the noble steadfastness of all, from admiral to
stoker, which has once more given us all " that leap of
heart whereby a people rise " to a keener consciousness
of the meaning of national life. I think one feels it even
more out here amongst strangers than one would have
felt it at home, and can give God thanks that the old
ideal has come out again in the sinking of the Victoria
as it did in that of the Birkenhead forty years ago, when
the ship's boats took off all the women and children, and
the big ship went down at last " still under steadfast
men."
Those are, as you know, the words of Sir Francis
Doyle, who gave voice to the mixed anguish and triumph
of the nation in worthy verse. I heard the great story
from the lips of one of the simplest of men, Colonel
Wright, who as a subaltern had formed the men up on
the deck of the Birkenhead under Colonel Seton, and
stood at his place on the right of the line when she broke
in two. He was entangled for some moments in the
sinking wreck, but managed to free himself, and, being a
famous swimmer, rose to the surface, and struck out for
the shore amongst a number of the men. It must have
been one of the most trying half hours that men ever
went through ; for, as they swam and cheered one another,
now and again a comrade would suddenly disappear, and
they knew that one of the huge sharks they had seen
from the deck, passing backwards and forwards under the
Vacation Rambles 351
doomed ship, was amongst them. When they had all
but reached the shore the man who swam by Wright's
side was taken. When I heard the tale he was Assistant-
Inspector of Volunteers under Colonel M'Murdo, and
going faithfully through his daily work. Strange to say,
neither Horse Guards nor War Office had taken any note
of that unique deck-parade and swim for life, and Ensign
Wright had risen slowly to be Major and Sub-Inspector
of Volunteers. Stranger still, he seemed to think it all
right, and there was no trace of resentment or jealousy
in his plain statement of the facts — which, indeed, I had
to draw out by cross-questioning on our march from the
Regent's Park to our headquarters in Bloomsbury. I
was so moved by the story that I wrote it all to Mr.
Cardwell, then at the War Office, and had the pleasure of
seeing Major Wright's name in the next Gazette amongst
the new C.B.'s.
Well, well ! It does one good now and then to breathe
for a little in a rarer and nobler atmosphere than that of
everyday, into which we must after all sink, and live
there for nine-tenths of our time, — like the old fish-wife,
Mucklebackit, going back to mending the old nets and
chaffering over the price of herrings which have been
bought by men's lives. And here we have great placards
just out, announcing "Fetes de jour et de nuit," with
donkey-races and all manner of games, and fireworks,
including an " embrasement general," whatever that may
forebode. " This life would be quite endurable but for its
amusements," said Sir G. Cornewall Lewis, a wise man
and excellent Minister of the Crown.
Our first Sunday at La Bourboule has been edifying
from the Sabbatarian point of view, and I shouldn't
wonder if the good little parson who is taking the duty
here during the bathing- season holds it up to us for
instruction next Sunday, if he can get a room for service,
and a congregation. There is no English church, and
from what I hear not much prospect of an arrangement
for joint worship in the French Protestant church, which
35 2 Vacation Rambles
was almost concluded, being carried out. Unfortunately,
a succession of young Ritualists have managed to alarm
the French Protestant pastor and his small flock, by
treating them as Dissenters, and making friends ostenta-
tiously with the Eoman Catholic priests. However,
happily the present incumbent (or whatever he should be
called) is a sensible moderately broad Churchman, who it
may be hoped will bring things straight again. But to
return to my Sabbatarian story. An English lady fond
of equestrian exercise hired horses for herself and a
friend, and invited the able and pleasant young Irishman
who doctors us all, and is also churchwarden, to accom-
pany them for a ride in these lovely mountains. They
started from this hotel, and, as it happened, just as the
parson was coming by ; so, not being quite easy in their
consciences (I suppose), asked him if he saw any harm in
it. To this he replied, sensibly enough, that it was their
fight, not his ; and if they saw none, he had nothing to
say. So off they rode, meaning certainly to be back by
8 P.M. for supper. I was about till nearly nine, when
they had not turned up ; and next morning I heard the
conclusion of the whole matter. The doctor's horse cast
a shoe, and had to be led home, limping slightly ; while
the lady's horse came back dead-lame, and her companion's
steed with both knees broken ! Judging by the un-
mistakable talent of these good Bourboulais for appreciat-
ing the value to their guests of their water and other
possessions, I should say that this Sunday ride will prove
a costly indulgence to the excursionists.
La Bourboule
10th July 1893.
Currency questions are surely amongst the things
" which no fellow can understand," — a truth for which I
think, sir, I may even claim you as a witness, after read-
ing your cautious handling of the silver question in recent
Vacation Rambles 353
numbers. But so far as my experience goes, there are
no questions as to which it is more difficult to shake
convictions than those which have been arrived at by un-
scientific persons. For instance, in this very charming
health-resort, the authorities at the Etablissement des
Bains, where one buys bath-tickets, are under the delusion
that 20 fr. (French money) are the proper equivalent for
the English sovereign. On my first purchase of six
tickets, amounting to 15 fr. (each bath costs 2 fr. 50 c,
or 50 c. more than at Royat), the otherwise intelligent
person who presided at the caisse d' etablissement, tendered
me a single 5 fr. piece ; and on my calling his attention
to the mistake, as I supposed it to be, and demanding a
second 5 fr., calmly informed me that 20 fr. was the
change they always gave, and he could give no other.
Whereupon, I carried off my sovereign in high dudgeon,
and — there being neither bank nor money-changer's office
in this place, though more than twenty large hotels ! —
applied to two of the larger shops only to find the same
delusion in force. In short, I only succeeded in getting
25 fr. in exchange for my sovereign as a favour from our
kind hostess at this hotel. Wherefore, as I hear that a
great crowd of English are looked for next month, I
should like to warn them to bring French money with
them. This experience reminded me of a good story
which I heard Thackeray tell thirty years ago. (If it is
in The Kicklehunjs on the Rhine, or printed elsewhere,
you will suppress it). Either he himself or a friend, I
forget which, changed a sovereign on landing in Holland,
put the change in one particular pocket, and on crossing
each frontier on his way to the South of Italy, before that
country or Germany had been consolidated, again ex-
changed the contents of that pocket for the current coin
of the Kingdom, Duchy, or Republic he was entering.
On turning out the contents at Naples he found them
equivalent to something under 5s. of English money.
Before I forget it, let me modify what I said last week
as to the ecclesiastical position of the Protestants here.
2 A
354 Vacation Rambles
The Anglicans are now represented by the " Colonial and
Continental Society." They sent a clergyman, who has
managed so well that we are now on excellent terms with
our French Protestant brethren, though we have as yet
no joint place of worship. This, however, both congrega-
tions hope to secure shortly, — indeed, as soon as they can
collect £400, half of which is already in hand. Then the
municipality, or the " Compagnie d'Etablissement des
Bains," I am not sure which, give a site, and another
£400, which will be enough to pay for a small church
sufficient for the present congregations. These will hold
the building in common, and, let us hope, will adjust the
hours for the services amicably. At present, the French
Protestants worship in the buvette, where we all drink our
waters ; and we Anglicans in an annex of the establish-
ment — a large room devoted during the week to Punch
and Judy and the marionettes. This rather scandalises
some of our compatriots ; I cannot for the life of me see
why. Indeed, it seems to me a very healthy lesson to
most of us, who are accustomed to the ritual which
prevails in so many of our restored, or recently built,
English churches, — the lesson which Jacob learnt on his
flight from his father's tents, when he slept in the desert
with a stone for pillow, " Surely the Lord is in this place,
and I knew it not." Our congregation yesterday was
something over thirty. I believe it rises to one hundred,
or more, next month. The service was thoroughly hearty,
and I really think every one must have come meaning to
say their prayers. I felt a slight qualm as to how we
should get on with the singing, and could not think why
the parson should choose about the longest hymn in the
book, for there was no organ, harmonium, or other
musical instrument, and no apparent singing- men or
singing-women. However, my qualms vanished when
our pastor led off with a well-trained tenor voice which
put us all at our ease.
The rest of our Sunday was by no means so successful,
for the fete du jour et du soir began soon after our 1 1 A.M.
Vacation Rambles 355
t/t'jnhirr, and lasted till about 10 P.M., when the lights in
most of the paper-lanterns had burnt out, and people had
gone home from the Casino and the promenade to their
hotels or lodgings. I am old-fashioned enough to like a
quiet Sunday ; but here, when the place is en fete, that is
out of the question,— at any rate, if you are a guest at
one of the hotels which, as they almost all do, faces on
the " Avenue Gueneau de Mussy." That name will
probably remind some of your readers of the able and
popular doctor of the Orleans family, who accompanied
their exile, lived in England during the Empire in
Mortimer Street, Cavendish Square, and was popular in
London society. After 1870 he returned to France, and,
it seems, rediscovered these waters, or, at any rate, made
them the fashionable resort of patients in need of arsenical
treatment. In gratitude, his name has been given to this
main avenue of La Bourboule, which runs the whole
length of the town, parallel to the River Dordogne, which
comes rushing down the valley from Mont Dore at a pace
which I have never seen water attain except in the rapids
below Niagara, in which that strongest and rashest of
swimmers, Captain Webb, lost his life. The Avenue,
though parallel with, is some fifty yards from the river, and
the intervening space is planted with rows of trees, under
which many donkeys and hacks stand for the convenience
of visitors. The opposite bank of the Dordogne, which
is crossed by two bridges, rises abruptly, and is crowned
by the two rival casinos, with the most imposing hotel of
the place between them, where (I am told) you pay 5 fr.
a day extra for the convenience of the only lift in La
Bourboule ! The fete of last Sunday was given by the
old Casino, and commenced directly after d/jeHner with a
gathering in the rooms and in front of the Casino on the
terrace, where the guests sat at small tables consuming
black coffee, absinthe, and other drinks, and strolling now
and then into the billiard-room, or the room in which the
jeu aux petits chevaux, and some other game of chance
which I did not recognise, were in full swing. There is
356 Vacation Rambles
an inner room where baccarat and roulette are going on,
supposed to be only open to tickets bought from the
authorities, but which a young Englishman, my neighbour
at the table d'hote, tells me he found no difficulty in enter-
ing without a ticket. The rest of the fete, consisting
chiefly of donkey -races, climbing greasy poles, and fishing
half-francs out of meal tubs with the mouth, came oft' in
a small park and plateau on the hillside above the Casino.
I used to enjoy donkey-races as a boy, when at our
country feasts each boy rode his neighbour's donkey, and
the last past the post was the winner, and should probably
have gone up the hill to witness a French race, but that
I found that here each boy rides his own donkey, and the
first past the post wins. This takes all the fun out of
the race, so I abstained. There were a few second-rate
fireworks after dark, and the Casino and most of the
hotels were prettily lighted, and the trees hung with
yellow paper lanterns which looked like big oranges, but
to the Englishman, more or less accustomed to the great
Brock's performances, the illumination business was very
flat.
Comite des Fetes
17th July 1893.
An Englishman can scarcely avoid the danger of having
his national vanity fed in this La Bourboule. A new
hotel is being built on a fine site above the Dordogne,
just beyond the new Casino, and I hear on the best
authority that the proprietor means to have it furnished
from top to bottom by Messrs. Maple. As this will
involve paying a duty of from 30 to 50 per cent on the
articles imported, it is not easy to see where the profit
can come in, as the most prejudiced John Bull will
scarcely deny that native French furniture is about as
good, and not very much dearer than English. I can
only account for it by the desire of all purveyors here —
from the chief hotel-keepers to the dealers in the pretty
Vacation Rambles 357
Auvergne jewellery and the donkey -women — to get us
as customers, — not, perhaps, so much from love or admira-
tion for us, as because we have so much less power of re-
monstrance or resistance to their charges. Unless he sees
some flagrant overcharge in his hotel bill, the Briton does
not care to air his colloquial French in discussing items
with the former, who only meet him with polite shrugs ;
and as for the others, they at once fall back upon an
Auvergnese patois, at least as different from ordinary
French as a Durham miner's vernacular is from a West
countryman's. What satisfaction can come of remon-
strating about 2 fr., even in faultless grammatical French,
when it only brings on you a torrent of explanation of
which you cannot understand one word in ten 1
But the desire to make us feel at home has another —
I may almost say a pathetic— side. Thus the ComiU des
fetes spares no effort to meet our supposed necessities, and
has not only provided tennis-grounds and other conveni-
ences for le sport, but for the last ten days has been pre-
paring for a grand chasse an renard, as a special compli-
ment, I am told, to the English visitors. The grand
feature of the hunt is a recherche' luncheon in an attractive
spot in the forest, at the end of the run, at which the
Mayor presides, and to which the other civic dignitaries
go in full costume, accompanied by a chief huntsman and
two chasseurs with tridents — of all strange equipments for
a fox-hunt ! For this luncheon the charge is 5 fr. ; but,
so far as I can learn, you may join the chase without
partaking. The question naturally occurs : " How if
Renard will not run that way, or consent to die within
easy distance of the luncheon 1 " and the answer of the
Mayor would, I suppose, be Dogberry's : " Let him go,
and thank God you are rid of a knave." But, in any
case, the Comitd des fetes are prepared for such a mis-
hap, for they have had four foxes ready for some days,
in a large oven — of all places in the world ! and one of
these will surely be induced to take the proper course,
which is carefully marked out. As two of them have
1
58 Vacation Rambles
come from Switzerland, and there cannot be much to
occupy or amuse Swiss foxes in an oven, except quarrel-
ling with their French cousins, I should doubt as to the
condition of the lot on the day of the hunt, even if all
survive to that date. This, I am sorry to say, cannot be
fixed as yet, for it seems that no English visitor has been
found who will take a ticket ; so I fear my " course " may
be over before the chasse comes off. In that case I shall
always bear a grudge against your lively contemporary,
the Daily GraiMc, who, it seems, printed an illustrated
account of the chasse of last summer, to which the present
abstinence of the British sportsman to-day is generally
attributed. Can we wonder at the want of understanding
between the two peoples when one comes across such
strange pieces of farce as this, meant, I believe, for a
genuine compliment and advance towards good-fellowship?
I wish I could speak hopefully upon more serious things
than the chasse au renard ; but in more than one direction
things seem to me to be drifting, or going back, under
the Republic. E.g. a friend of mine, who prefers smoking
the cigars he is used to, ordered a box from his tobacconist
in Manchester, who entrusted them to the Continental
Parcels Delivery Company on 15th June. Next day,
though notice had been given of payment of all charges
on delivery, they were stopped at the Gare du Nord, at
Paris, where the station-master refused to forward them
until he got an undertaking in writing from my friend to
pay all charges. This was sent at once, but produced no
effect for three days, when another letter arrived — not
now from the station-master, but from a person signing
himself " Contributions Agent" — saying that undertaking
No. 1 was not in proper form. Thereupon, undertaking
No. 2 is sent ; but still nothing happens, and my friend
had almost given up hope of getting his cigars when he
bethought him of advising with a deputy, who was luckily
staying here in the same hotel. That gentleman seemed
not at all surprised, but offered to write to his secretary
in Paris to go to the Gare du Nord and look after the
Vacation Rambles 359
box. The offer was, of course, thankfully accepted, with
the result that the cigars were sent on at once, with the
following bill: "Droit d'entree, 38 fr. 77 c. ; timbre
d'acquit a caution, 7 c. ; toile d'emballage — consignation,
40 fr. 27 c. : total, 79 fr. 11 c." — which about doubled
the original cost. This instance of the slovenliness (if not
worse) of a railway company and the Customs has been
quite eclipsed, however, by the Post Office. Another friend
posted a letter here to his sister in England, but unluckily
in the forenoon, when the next departure was for Bordeaux.
To that town, accordingly, his letter went, and thence to
America, whence in due course — i.e. at the end of three
weeks — it reached its destination in England. Again, a
lady here received several dividends more than a week
ago, which she forwarded to her husband in England in a
registered letter. This has never reached him ; and the
Post - Office officials here are making inquiries (very
leisurely ones) as to what has become of it. Then the
clergyman of the church here, having a payment to make
in his parish in England, sent the money, and got the
official receipt several posts before he received a reminder
from the same official (dated a week earlier than the
receipt) that the payment was due ; and lastly, pour cornble,
as they say here, a county J.P. has never received at all
the formal summons from his High Sheriff, sent some
weeks since, to serve on the grand jury at the coming
Assizes ! Whatever the consequences may be of utterly
ignoring such summons, he has thus incurred them, which,
for all I know, may be equal to the penalties of praemunire.
Put seriously, I fear the incubus of the Republican super-
stition, as you have defined it, is spreading fast and far
in this splendid land. The centralisation fostered by the
Second Empire, and favoured by the Republic for the last
twenty years, seems to have demoralised the national
nerve-centre at Paris under the shadow of the Eiffel Tower
— which,
Like a tall bully, lifts its head and lies,
— and to be spreading its baleful iniluence through the
360 Vacation Rambles
Departments. At any rate, that is the only explanation I
can suggest for the marked deterioration and present flabbi-
ness of all Government departments with which the foreign
visitor comes in contact. I am glad to be able, however,
to record, before closing this, that the registered letter
containing dividend warrants mentioned above has reached
its destination in England.
Dogs and Flowers
La Bourboule, 1Uh July.
During the greater part of our stay, the theatre here
was devoted to comic and other operatic performances,
which I did not care for, and so scarcely glanced at the
play-bills, posted up daily in our hotel ; and was not even
tempted by the announcement of " une seule representa-
tion extraordinaire " of Le Songe d'une Nuit d'EU, as I did
not like to have my idea of A Midsummer Night's Dream
disordered by a French metrical version. When too late,
I sorely regretted it, as, had I even read the caste, I
should have gone, and been able to give you a trust-
worthy report, — for the three principal characters were
William Shakespeare— by M. Dereims, of the opera (who
would sing his great song of La fieine de Saba) — Falstaff",
and Queen Elizabeth ! Next morning I catechised a young
Englishman, whose report was, as near as I can recollect,
as follows : " Well, there wasn't much of our Midsummer
Night's Dream in it, no Oberon and Titania, or Bottom, or
all that fairy business. Queen Elizabeth and one of her
ladies went out at night disguised, to a sort of Casino or
Cremorne Gardens" [what would Secretary Cecil have
said to such an escapade?], "and coming away they met
Shakespeare and Falstaff', and had a good time; and
Falstaff sang a song which brought the house down. Then,
as the Queen falls in love with Shakespeare, they get some
girl to marry him right away." One more lost oppor-
Vacation Rambles 36 1
tunity, and to think that I shall probably never get
another chance ! —
There is a flower that shines so bright,
They call it marigold-a :
And he that wold not when he might,
He shall not when he wold-a.
As you are fond of dog- lore, here is a sample from
Auvergne. Just opposite our hotel lives the young
Scotch (not Irish, as I think I called him last week)
doctor. His wife owns a clever pug, whose friendship
any self-respecting dog would be anxious, I should say, to
cultivate. One of the rather scratch -pack gathered for
the coming fox-chase, who wandered as they pleased about
the town, seems to have shared my view, for every morn-
ing, between cafd and dejeuner, he came and paid a visit of
about five minutes to Mrs. Gilchrist's pug, in the doctor's
vestibule, always open to man and clog. At the end of
his call, he trotted off down the avenue to whatever other
business he might have in hand. Now, his visits could
not have been amatory, as both are of the masculine sex,
nor could they have been gastronomic, for he invariably
refused the food which Mrs. Gilchrist offered him. What
other conclusion is possible than that he came to talk over
the gossip afloat in the dog-world of La Bourboule 1
Lastly, as to the excursions. These are numerous, and
very interesting in all ways, for you drive through great,
sad pine-forests (in which I was astonished to see many
of the trees gray with the weeping moss which makes the
Louisiana and Texas forests so melancholy) and breezy
heaths all aglow with wild flowers, getting every now and
then indescribably glorious glimpses of the rich plain
which stretches away from this backbone of Central France
to the Alps. The flora is quite beyond me, but I recog-
nised many varieties of heart's-ease, fox-gloves, gentians,
amongst them an exquisite blue variety, and the air was
often scented with meadow-sweet or wild-thyme. Then
almost every mountain-top is crowned by a peculiarly
362 Vacation Rambles
shaped block of dark rock, which looks as if some huge
saurian, disgusted with a changing world, had crawled up
there to die and get petrified. They must, however, have
been even bigger than the Atlaniosawms immanis, the
biggest of the family yet found, I believe. I well re-
member the delight of Dr. Agnew, of New York, when
the American geologists came upon its thigh bone, two feet
longer than that of any European monster. It had become
agate, and I have a scarf-pin made of a polished fragment,
and presented to me by the triumphant doctor. I cannot
tell you what these rocks really are, as I made no ascent,
preferring nowadays, like dear Lowell, " to make my
ascents by telescope."
But the human interest of the excursions, as usual, far
exceeds the botanical or geological. The chief of these is
the " Tour d'Auvergne," the seat of the Count who en-
listed to repel invasion, but never would take a com-
mission from Republic or Napoleon, and died in battle,
the " premier grenadier de la France." There is nothing
left of his tower except the foundations, and a dungeon
on the high rock, on which a native woman sells photo-
graphs and relics, quite as genuine, I should say, as most
such. Opposite, across a deep valley, rises another rock
crowned by a chapel, which is approached by a steep path,
up which once a year goes a procession, past the seven
stations, at each of which there is a crucifix, and on the
lowest a figure the size of life. Christianity, they say, has
died down very low in Auvergne. I should doubt it, as
I saw no sign of defacement, either here or on any of the
roadside crosses, which are everywhere. I fear we could
hardly say as much if we had them— as I wish we had —
on every English high-road. On the walls of the village
which clusters round the side of the keep, a placard (of
which I enclose a copy) interested me much. The three
Municipal Councillors there give their reasons for resign-
ing their seats on the Council. On the whole, I think they
were wrong, and should have stayed and " toughed it out."
I should like to know how it strikes vou. You will see
Vacation Rambles 363
that the poster bears a stamp. Might not our Chancellor
of the Exchequer raise a tidy sum that way 1 What a
lump Pears, Hudson, Epps, or Van Houten and Co. would
have to pay, and earn the thanks of a grateful country
too ! But I must not try your patience or space further,
so will only note the Roman remains at Mont Dore,
another health-resort of the Dordogne Valley, four miles
above La Bourboule, which are worth going all the way
to see, as I would advise any of your readers to do who
are looking out for an interesting countryside, with as
fine air as any in the world, in which to spend their
coming holidays.
Dutch Boys
The Hague, 1st May 1894.
Much may be said both for and against breaking one's
good resolutions, but no one, I should think, will deny
the merit of making them. Well, sir, before starting
for my Whitsuntide jaunt this year, I resolved firmly
that nothing should induce me to send you any more
letters over this signature. Have I not been trying your
patience, and the long-suffering of your readers any time
these thirty years, with my crude first impressions of
cities and their inhabitants, from Constantinople to
the Upper Missouri 1 " Surely," I said to myself, " sat
prata biberunt." What can young England in the last
decade of the century — who enjoy, or at any rate
read, Dodo, and The Fabian Essays, and The Ifcarcnl//
Twins — care or want to know about the notions of
an old fogey, whose faiths — or fads, as they would call
them — on social and political problems were formed,
if not stereotyped, in the first half 1 What, then, has
shaken this wise resolve ? You might guess for a week
and never come within miles of the answer. It was
the sight of a group of Dutch boys playing leap-frog in
front of this hotel, and the contrast which came unbidden
into my head between the chances of Dutch and English
364 Vacation Rambles
boys in this matter, and the different use they make of
them.
In front of this hotel lies the large open space, now
planted with trees, and about the size of Grosvenor
Square, which is called " Tournooiveld," and was in the
Middle Ages the tilt-yard of the doughty young Dutch
candidates for knighthood. The portion of this square
immediately in front of the hotel, about 40 yards deep and
150 broad, is marked off from the rest by a semicircular
row of granite posts, rather over three feet in height, and
three to four yards apart, two of them being close to lamp-
posts, but the line otherwise unbroken. No chain connects
these posts, and they have no spike on the top of them.
As I stood at the door the morning after my arrival,
admiring the fine linden-trees in full foliage, enter four
Dutch boys from the left, who, without a word, broke at
once into single file, and did " follow my leader " over all
the posts till they got to the end on the extreme right,
and disappeared quietly down a side street. Well, you
will say, wouldn't four English boys have done just the
same % and I answer, Yes, certainly, so far as playing
leap-frog over the posts goes ; but they would have to
come out here to find such a row of posts in the middle
of a city. At any rate, in the city with which I am
best acquainted in England, the few posts there fit for
leap-frog are connected with chains and have spikes on
their tops. Moreover, do I not pass daily up a flight of
steps, fenced on either side by a broad iron banister,
which was obviously intended by Providence for passing
boys to get a delicious slide down 1 But, sir, no English
boy on his way to school or on an errand has ever slid
down those banisters, for the British Bumble has had
prohibitory knobs placed on them at short intervals for
no possible reason except to prevent boys sliding down.
The faith that all material things should be made to serve
the greatest good of the greatest number is surely as
widely held in England as in Holland, and yet, here are
the tops of these Dutch posts culotU, if I may say so,
Vacation Rambles 365
worn smooth and polished by the many generations of
boys who have enjoyed leap-frog over them, while the
British posts and banisters have given pleasure to no
human being but Bumble from the day they were put up.
But it was not of the Dutch posts but the Dutch boys
that I intended to write, for they certainly struck me as
differing in two particulars from our boys, thus. Two of
the posts, as I have said, are so close to the lamp-posts
that you can't vault over them without coming full butt
against the lamp-post on the other side. When the leader
came to the first of them he did not pass it, as I expected,
but just vaulted on to the top, and sat there while he
passed his leg between the post and the lamp-post, and
then jumped down and went on to the next. Every one
of the rest followed his example gravely and without a
word ; whereas, had they been English boys, there would
have been a bolt past the leader as soon as he was seated,
and a race with much shouting for the lead over the
remaining pillars. I have been studying the Dutch boy
ever since, and am convinced that he is the most silent
and most " thorough " of any of his species I have ever
come across ; and the boy is father to the man in both
qualities. On Whit-Monday this city was crowded, all
the citizens and country-folk from the suburbs being in
the streets and gardens ; the galleries and museums, oddly
enough, being closed for the day. Walking about amongst
them the silence was really rather provoking. At last I
took to counting the couples we met who were obviously
just married, or courting, and ought at any rate to have
had something to say to each other. Out of eleven
couples in one street, only one were talking, though all
looked quite happy and content. It is the same every-
where. As we neared the landing-place at the Hook of
Holland, our steamer's bows were too far out, and a rope
had to be thrown from the shore. There were at least
twenty licensed porters waiting for us, in clean white
jackets, — one of these, without a word, just coiled a rope
and flung it. It was missed twice by the sailor in our
366 Vacation Rambles
bows, and fell into the water, out of which the thrower
drew it, and just coiled and threw it again without a word
of objurgation or remonstrance, and the third time
successfully. Not one of the white-jacketed men who
stood round had uttered a syllable of advice or comment ;
but what a Babel would have arisen in like case at the
pier-heads of Calais or Dieppe, or for that matter at Dover
or Liverpool. No wonder that William the Silent is the
typical hero of Dutchmen ; there are two statues of him
in the best sites in this city, and half a dozen portraits in
the best places in the galleries. Hosea Biglow's —
Talk, if you keep it, pays its keep,
But gabble's the short road to ruin.
"Pis gratis (gals half price), but cheap
At no price when it hinders doing, —
ought to be put into Dutch as the national motto. Then
as to thoroughness. Take the most notable example of
it first. We have been driving all round for some days,
and have only once come to a slope up which our horse
had to walk. When we got to the top, there was the sea
on the other side, obviously even to the untrained eye at
a considerably higher level than the green fields through
which we had just been driving. Of course it is an old
story, the Dutchman's long war with the German Ocean,
but one never realises it till one comes to drive uphill to
the sea, and then it fairly takes one's breath away. I
was deeply impressed, and took advantage of a chance
that offered of talking the subject over with an expert,
who, like most Dutchmen, happily speaks English fluently.
Far from expressing any anxiety as to the land already
won, he informed me that they are seriously contemplating
operations against the Zuider Zee, and driving him
permanently out of Holland ! And I declare I believe
they will do it, and so win the right, alone, so far as I
know, amongst the nations, of saying to the sea : " Hither-
to shalt thou come and no further, and here shall thy
proud waves be stayed." One more example, — their
Vacation Rambles 367
thoroughness as to cleanliness. Not only the pavements
of the main thoroughfares, but all the side-streets are
thoroughly well washed and cleansed daily. When you
walk out in the early morning you might eat your break-
fast anywhere with perfect comfort on the sidewalks. We
had to look for more than a quarter of an hour to find a
bit of paper in the streets, and the windows in the back
streets, even of houses to let, are rubbed bright and
polished to a point which must be the despair of the pass-
ing English housewife. Why are Dutch house-maidens so
incomparably more diligent and clean than English % Can
it be their Puritan bringing-up 1 In short, ten days'
residence here — I have never before done anything but
rush through the country on my way east — seems likely
to make me review old prejudices, and to exclaim, " If I
were not an Englishman, I would be a Dutchman ! " One
may read and enjoy Motley without really appreciating
this silent and "thorough" people, or understanding how
it came to pass that by them, in this tiny and precarious
corner of Europe, " the great deliverance was wrought
out."
"Poor Paddy-Land!" — I
6th Oct. 1894.
Six weeks ago, when I was considering where I should
go for my autumn holiday, some remarks of yours de-
cided me " to give poor Paddy-land a turn " (the phrase is
not mine, but that of the first housemaid I came across
in Dublin). When one has been talking and thinking
for the last eight years of little else than that " distress-
ful country," it certainly seemed a fair suggestion that
one might as well go and look at it when one got the
chance. So I have scrambled round from Dublin to
Kerry, and from Cork to the Giant's Causeway, and can
bear hearty witness to the soundness of your advice.
For a flying visit of a few weeks, though insufficient for
any serious study of a people or country, may greatly
368 Vacation Rambles
help one in judging both of them from one's ordinary
standpoint at home.
Of course, the first object of an Englishman who has
not lost his head must be to ascertain whether the Irish
people really long for a separate Parliament, and a
severance of all connection with the rest of the Empire.
Well, sir, I was prepared to find that the men in the
street — car-drivers, boatmen, waiters, and fellow-travellers
on the railways — would, to a great extent, adapt their
opinions to whatever they might think would please their
questioner, but certainly was quite unprepared for the
absolute unanimity with which I was assured that Home
Rule is dead. It is only the American-Irish, and espe-
cially the " Biddys of New York," so my informants
protested, " who want to break up the Union." I was
warned, however, as to the man in the street. " You
must remember that our people are full of imagination,
and you must take off a large discount from all they tell
you ; but you'll always find a groundwork of fact at the
bottom of their stories." A good piece of advice, which
a professional friend in Dublin started me with, and
which I found to be true enough, except that where local
politics or the land came in, the groundwork of fact was
apt to be too minute to be easily discerned. Take, as an
example, a story which was told me on the spot by a
thoroughly trustworthy witness. Towards the end of
Mr. Forster's Chief- Secretaryship a sensation message
was flashed to New York that a Government stronghold
had been taken by the Invincibles, the garrison having
surrendered with all the guns and stores. This announce-
ment produced a liberal response in dollars from the
other side, particularly from "the Biddys of New York."
Now for the "groundwork of fact" underlying this
superstructure. The Government have, it seems, on
their hands a number of Martello towers on the southern
coast which are useless for military purposes. A band
of some dozen " bhoys," headed by a notorious Invincible,
came out of Cork one summer evening and summoned
Vacation Rambles 369
the garrison of one of these Martello towers. The garrison
(an elderly pensioner), who was at tea with his wife and
children, wisely surrendered at discretion ; whereupon
the patriots took possession of the single cannon and
some old muskets and ammunition, which latter they
carried off next morning, when they abandoned the tower
and cannon on the approach of the police. But though
the groundwork of fact as to the condition of the Home
Rule agitation may be infinitesimal, there is very serious
apprehension still on the Land Question, upon which I
found it difficult to draw the man in the street. I was
fortunate enough, however, to come across several resident
landlords and professional men, both Catholic and Pro-
testant, who, one and all, look with the gravest distrust
at the operation of recent land legislation. The Com-
missioners who administer these Acts have, unfortunately,
the strongest interest in prolonging the present state of
uncertainty. Their appointments will end with the
cessation of appeals by tenants for further reductions of
rent, which, under the circumstances, does not seem likely
to come about before the landlords' interest has been
pared down bit by bit till it touches prairie-value. The
present utter confusion and uncertainty is at any rate a
striking object-lesson as to the dangers of meddling with
freedom of contract by Acts of Parliament.
When I landed in Ireland, I was under the impression
— -for which I think you, sir, and perhaps the late Lord
Beaconsfield, with his dictum about the " melancholy
ocean," were responsible — that there is a note of sadness
underlying the superficial gaiety of the Irish character,
as is the case with most Celts. Well, whether it be from
natural incapacity, and that each observer only brings
with him a limited power of seeing below the surface in
such matters, in any case I wholly failed to discern any
such characteristic in Central or South Ireland, though
there may be a trace of it perhaps in the North, where,
by the way, they are not Celts. On the contrary, the
remark of a friendly and communicative Killarney car-
•1 v,
370 Vacation Rambles
man, " Shure, sir, we always try to get on the sunny side
of the bush, like the little birds," seemed to me trans-
parently true. And next to this desire for the sunny
side of the bush, a happy-go-lucky, hand-to-mouth temper
struck me as the prevailing characteristic, as Sir AValter
saw it when he wrote "Sultan Solomon's Search after
Happiness." Look at the national vehicle, the outside
car — far more national and popular than our hansom.
Did any race ever invent a conveyance so easy to mount
and dismount from, or which offers the same chances of
being shot off at every street corner or turn in the road 1
If any reader doubts, let him go over to the next horse-
show at Dublin, and watch the crowd breaking up at the
end of the show. The roads into the city are certainly
unusually broad, but the sight of a dozen jaunting-cars
coming along, two or three abreast, as hard as their
horses can trot, the driver lolling carelessly, with a loose
rein, on one side, and a couple of Irishmen on the other,
is a sight to make the Saxon " sit up," though he may be
accustomed to the fastest and most reckless West End
hansoms. Like one of your recent correspondents, I
could distinguish natives from visitors, as each of the
latter had a tight hold of the bar — a precaution which
the native scorned. I managed to extract from an
enthusiastic admirer — a young Irish subaltern who had
ridden on them all his life — the confession that he had
left a car involuntarily (or, Anglicb, had been shot out)
three times in the last eighteen months ; but then, as he
explained, he always fell on his feet ! I was touched
again and again by the almost pathetic craving for
English appreciation, — quite as strong, I think, as, and
certainly much pleasanter than, that of our American
cousins. I was exploring the Killarney Lakes, in the
first-rate four-oared boat of a cadet of the MacGillicuddy
family, who, with his English wife, exercises a very
delightful hospitality almost under the shadow of " The
Reeks," which bear his name. It was a perfect day, the
changing lights and tints on mountains and woods and
Vacation Rambles 371
lakes being more delicately lovely than any I could recall,
except, perhaps, at the head of the Lake of Geneva. We
had been talking of the Scotch lakes, and I could not
help saying, " Why, this beats Loch Katrine and Ellen's
Isle out of the field." " Ah," said our host, with a sigh,
" if only Sir Walter Scott had been an Irishman ! " and
then he went on to speak of the neglect of Ireland by the
Royal Family and English governing people — e.g. Lord
Beaconsfield had never set foot in her, and Mr. Gladstone
only once, for an hour or two, to receive the freedom of
Dublin. But why had the Queen made her favourite
home in Scotland, and left poor Ireland out in the cold 1
Why did the English flock to Scotch rivers and moors
and golf-links in crowds every autumn when only a
stray sportsman or tourist found his way to Killarney or
Connemara or Donegal 1 It was all owing to the Wizard
of the North, who had made Scotland enchanted ground.
Without ignoring other and deeper causes, I think one
cannot but feel what a difference it would have made if
Sir Walter had been Irish. The Siege of Derry is a more
heroic and pathetic story than any in Scotch annals of
the struggle for the Stuarts, and the genius which has
made us intimate friends of the Baron of Bradwardine
and Dugald Dalgetty, of Dandie Dinmont, Edie Ochiltree,
Jeanie Deans, Cuddie and Mause Headrigg, and a dozen
other Scotch men and women, would surely have found
as good materials for character-painting among the Irish
peasantry. But the speculation, though interesting, is
too big to deal with at the end of a paper.
" Poor Paddy-Land ! " — II
I suppose every one expects to find Ireland the
land of the unlooked-for. I did, at any rate, but was
by no means prepared for several of the surprises which
greeted me. For instance, the best arranged, and for its
size and scope the most interesting, National Gallery I
have ever seen. It is only forty years old (incorporated
372 Vacation Rambles
in 1854), a date since which one would have thought it
scarcely possible to get together genuine specimens of all
the great schools of art, from the well " picked-over "
marts of England and the Continent. But the feat has
been accomplished, mainly, I believe, by the entire devo-
tion and fine taste and judgment of the late director, Mr.
Henry E. Doyle. His untimely death in the spring of
this year has left a blank, social and artistic, which it
will be hard to fill ; but happily his great work for Irish
art was done, and all that his successors will have to do
will be to follow his lead faithfully. Irish Art owes
much to his family, for he was the son of H. B., and the
younger brother of the immortal " Dicky," while, I
believe, Mr. Conan Doyle is his nephew.
But it is not the general collection of pictures, re-
markable as that is, which differentiates the Irish from
other national galleries known to me. It is the happy
arrangement which has set apart a fourth of the whole
space for a collection of portraits, and " authentic histori-
cal pictorial records, comprising not only the portraits of
eminent Irishmen and Irishwomen, but also of statesmen
and others who were politically or socially connected
with Ireland, or whose lives serve in any way to illustrate
her history, or throw light on her social or literary or
artistic records." I think I may safely venture the
assertion — for I spent the greater part of two afternoons
in this historical and portrait department — that there is
scarcely a man or woman, from the time of Elizabeth to
that of O'Connell and Lord Melbourne, of whom one
would be glad to know more, with whom one does not
leave it, feeling far better acquainted. And then they
are so admirably and often pathetically grouped, e.g.
Charles I., Cromwell, and R. Cromwell, on a line, all full
of character, and Strafford hard by, with the look of
"thorough" on his brow and mouth as no other portrait
I have ever seen has given. Then there are " Erin's
High Ormonde," Sir Walter Raleigh, by Zuccaro, painted
between his two imprisonments, and coming down later,
Vacation Rambles 373
Lords Wellesley and Hastings, and groups of great
nobles and Lords-Lieutenant. For fighting men, William
III. as a boy ; Walker, the defender of Deny ; the Duke,
the Lawrences, Lord Gough, and a score of other gallant
Irishmen. The terrible Dean stands out amongst the
literary men, and near him Sir R. Steele and Sterne,
and (longo intervallo, except on shelves) Tom Moore,
Croker, Lever, etc. Then come the " patriots " of all
schools : Lord E. Fitzgerald, and Grattan, and E. Hud-
son, Secretary of the United Irishmen in 1784; Wolfe
Tone, and Daniel O'Connell ; half a dozen Ponsonbys of
different ranks, and several pictures of Burke, one of
which especially (said to be by Angelica Kauffmann) is,
to my mind, quite invaluable. Burke stands upright,
his side-face towards you, sublime, as he looked, I am
sure, when he was making his immortal speech at Bristol.
By his side, at right angles, so that you get his full face,
is Charles Fox, one hand on Burke's shoulder, the other
on a table on which he is leaning. You can hear him
saying as plainly as if you were there one hundred years
ago, " Nosv, my dear Edmund, if you say that in the
House, you'll upset the coach." Fox has evidently dined
well, and Burke is fasting from all but indignation. The
portraits of women are as interesting, such as Miss Farren,
afterwards Lady Derby ; Mrs. Norton, by Watts, which
is worth a visit to Dublin to see, etc. But I must not
run on, and will only note one lesson I carried away.
There are two portraits, and three engravings from por-
traits, by N. Hone, R.A., an Irishman, but one of our
original Royal Academicians. You will remember what
Peter Pindar says of that painter in his Odes to the Royal
Academicians " : —
And as for Mr. Nathan Hone,
In portraits he's as much alone
As in his landscape stands the unrivalled Claude.
Of pictures I have seen enough,
Vile, tawdry, execrable staff,
But none so bad as thine, I vow to God.
374 Vacation Rambles
I have always till now maintained that Peter, with all
his cynicism, was the best art critic, the Ruskin, shall we
say, of his time. Now I give him up. N. Hone was no
doubt quarrelsome and disagreeable, but he was a very
considerable portrait-painter.
I had noted Deny as one of the places to be seen on
account of the siege, and accordingly went there, to get
another startling sensation. Like most other folk, I
suppose, I had always looked on the story as interesting
and heroic, and had wondered in a vague way how some
30,000 men, commanded by a distinguished French
soldier, and a considerable part of them at any rate
well-equipped regular troops, could have been kept at
bay for ten months by a mere handful of regulars,
backed by the 'prentice boys of the town and neighbour-
hood. Religious zeal was no doubt a strong factor on
the side of the town, and Parson Walker, a born leader
of men, "with a bugle in his throat," like "Bobs." But
when one remembers that no provision had been made
for a siege, that many of the leading men were for open-
ing the gates, and indeed that the French officers and
James's deputy were actually within 300 yards in their
boats, to accept the surrender, when the 'prentices rushed
down and shut and manned the gates, and then looks at
the scene on the spot, one is really dumbfounded, and
wanders back in thought to King Hezekiah and Jerusalem.
From the Cathedral, which dominates the city, you can
trace distinctly the line of the old walls, and can' hardly
believe your eyes. The space enclosed cannot be more
than a quarter of a mile in length, by some 300 yards in
breadth (I could not get exact measurements), and in it,
including garrison and the country folk who had flocked
in, were more than 30,000 people. It was bombarded
for eight months, during at least the last four of which
famine and pestilence were raging. No wonder that the
parish registers tell of more than 9000 burials in conse-
crated ground, while " the practice of burial in the back-
yards became unavoidable ! " Where can such another
Vacation Rambles 375
story be found in authentic history 1 Parson Walker,
let us say, fairly earned his monument.
I must own to grievous disappointment as to the
farming in Ulster. All through the South and Centre I
had seen the hay in the fields in small cocks in September,
and the splendid ripe crops of oats and barley uncut, or,
if cut, left in sheaf, or being carried in a leisurely fashion,
which was quite provoking, while tall, yellow ragweed
was growing in most of the pastures in ominous abun-
dance. That will all be altered, I thought, when I cross
" Boyne Water." Not a bit of it ! Here and there,
indeed, I saw a good rick-yard and clean fields, but
scarcely oftener than about Cork or Killarney, and no
one seemed to mind any more than the pure southern
Celts. One man said, when I mourned over the ragweed
three feet or four feet high, that he did not mind it, as it
showed the land was good ! As to leaving hay in cock,
well that was the custom — they would get it into stack
after harvest, any way before Christmas ; as to dawdling
over cutting and carrying, well, with prices at present
rates, what use in hurrying 1 There was a comic song
called " Clear the Kitchen," popular half a century ago,
which ran —
I saw an old man come riding by.
Says I, " Old man, your horse will die " ;
Says he, " If he dies I'll tan his skin,
And if he lives I'll ride him agin."
It fits the Irish temper, North and South, pleasant enough
to travel amongst, but bad, I should think, to live with.
"Panem et Circenses"
Rome, 21st April 1895.
I have been asking myself at least a dozen times a day
during the last fortnight, why Eome should be (to me, at
any rate) the city of surprises, far more than Athens or
376 Vacation Rambles
Constantine, for instance, or any other city or scene of
world-wide interest in Europe or America. Jerusalem
and the Nile cities I have never seen (and fear I never
shall now). Surely, to what I take to be the majority of
your readers, who have gone through, as I have, the
orthodox educational mill — public school and college —
precisely the contrary should be true. We spent no small
part of from six to ten years of the most impressionable
time of our lives in studying the story of the Mistress of
the Old World, from Romulus and Remus to the Anto-
nines. Even the idlest and most careless of us could
scarcely have passed his " greats " without knowing his
geography well enough to point out on the map the posi-
tion of each of the seven hills, the Forum, the Janiculum,
the Appian Way, the Arch of Titus, the Colosseum, etc.,
and must have formed some kind of notion in his own
mind of what each of them looked like. At any rate, I
had no excuse for not knowing my ancient Rome better
than I knew any modern city, both as to its geography
and the politics, beliefs, and habits of its citizens ; for I
was for two years in the pupil-room of a teacher (Bishop
Cotton) who spared no pains, not only on the texts of
Livy, Horace, Sallust, and Juvenal, and the geography,
but in making the Rome of the last years of the Republic
and the first Csesars live again for us. For instance, he
would collect for us all the best engravings then to be had
(it was before the days of photographs) of Rome, and
show us what remained of the old buildings and monu-
ments, and where the Papal city had encroached and
superseded them ; and again, would take infinite pains to
explain the changes in the ordinary life of the Roman
citizen, which had been creeping on since the end of the
third Punic war, when her last formidable rival went
down, and the struggle between patrician and plebeian
had time and opportunity to develop and work itself out,
till it ended in the Augustan age, when the will of the
Caesar remained the sole ultimate law, in Rome, and over
the whole Empire. Of course the explanation of the
Vacation Rambles 377
phrase " Panem et circenses," and the growth of the
system, in the shape of public feastings, shows, baths,
and other entertainments, with which each successful
Tribune or General, as he came to the front, and the
Caesars after them, tried to bribe and sway the mob of
the Forum, formed no small part of this instruction.
One item of the list will best illustrate my text — that
of public baths — which came most directly home to me,
as I was devoted to swimming in those days, and so had
great sympathy with the poor citizen of Imperial Rome
who desired to have baths in the best form and without
payment.
I do not know that there is any trustworthy evidence
as to the public baths of Rome before Imperial times, but
we can estimate pretty accurately how the case stood for
the poor Roman in the first and second centuries A.D.
The best preserved of these are the Baths of Caracalla,
in which sixteen hundred bathers could be accommodated
at once. The enclosed area was 360 yards square, or
considerably larger than Lincoln's Inn Fields ; but this
included a course for foot-races, in which, I suppose, the
younger bathers contended when fresh from the delights
of hot and cold baths, while their elders looked on from
the porticoes adjoining. The bathing establishment proper,
however, was 240 yards in length, by 124 yards in width,
in which the divisions of the " tepidaria," " calidaria,"
and " frigidaria," are still confidently pointed out in
Baedeker, and attested by guides if you like to hire them.
But the part which interested me most, apart from the
huge masses of wall still standing, was the depression in
the floor, which is said to have been the swimming-bath,
and which is at least twice as large as those of the Holborn
and Lambeth baths, the two largest in London in my time,
put together.
The remains of the walls are just astounding, eight feet
and ten feet thick, and (I should say) in several places
fifty feet high ; the thin Roman bricks, and the mortar in
which they are built, as hard as they were in the second
37% Vacation Rambles
century. I wish I could feel any confidence that any of
our London brickwork would show as well even a century
hence. When the floors were all covered with mosaic
pavement, of which small pieces now carefully preserved
still remain, and the brickwork of the walls was faced
with marble, and the statues which have been found here
and removed to museums, still stood round the central
fountain and in the courts, my imagination quite fails to
picture what the baths must have looked like. But the
Baths of Caracalla, though best preserved, are not. by any
means the largest. Those of Diocletian, on the Quirinal
and partly facing the railway station, were almost twice
as big, for the circumference of the bath buildings was
about 2000 yards, or half as large again as the Baths
of Caracalla, while they would accommodate (it is said)
three thousand bathers at once. It is even more im-
possible, however, to reconstruct these baths in one's fancy
than those of Caracalla, for the church of St. Bernardo
occupies one domed corner of the area, and a prison
another corner ; while a convent, with the Church of St.
Maria degli Angeli attached — built by Michael Angelo by
order of Pius IV. — stands over what was the " tepi-
darium." There is still, however, space enough left for
the large square, as big as Bedford Square, and surrounded
by cloisters said to be also the work of Michael Angelo,
in which stand a number of the most interesting statues
and busts, and architectural fragments lately exhumed.
I have by no means exhausted the opportunities en-
joyed by the Roman citizen under the Antonines for
getting a satisfactory, not to say a luxurious, wash in the
Roman summer, but must turn aside for a minute to tell
you of an interesting little scene which I saw outside on
leaving the Baths of Diocletian. Along the bottom of the
old ruined wall still standing, and looking as firm as that
of Caracalla, for about fifty yards, earth and rubbish has
been allowed to accumulate to the height of twelve or
fourteen feet. This dirt-heap covers some twenty feet of
the open space between the old wall and the footway,
Vacation Rambles 379
and, the face of it having been trampled hard, forms a
steep slope, of which the Roman urchin of to-day seems
to have taken possession, and thereon thoroughly to
enjoy himself after his own fashion. This is a very
different way from that of our street-boys, if I may judge
by what I saw in passing. A group of some dozen little
ragged urchins — four with bare feet — were at high jinks
as I came up ; and this was their pastime. The biggest
of them, a sturdy boy of (perhaps) eleven or twelve, stood
at the bottom of the steep slope, facing the wall, with his
feet firmly set, and his arms wide open. The rest, who
were at the top of the slope, against the wall, ran down one
after another and threw themselves into his arms, clasping
him round the neck, and getting a good hug before he
dropped them. The object seemed to be (so far as I
could see) to throw him over backwards, but he stood
his ground firmly, only staggering a little once or twice
during the two rounds which I was able to watch. I was
obliged then to leave, wondering, and debating in my
mind what would be the result of such a game if tried by
our street boys in a London suburb.
To go back to the Baths, there are remains of three more
which must have been no unworthy rivals of Caracalla's
and Diocletian's — viz. those of Constantine, Agrippa, and
Titus. The first were also on the Quirinal, and are said
to have occupied the greater part of the present Piazza
del Quirinale, including the site of the Royal Palace.
But as all that is left of them is a fragment of the
old boundary-wall here and there, one can form no notion
of their size or shape. One may, however, judge of their
character by magnificent colossal marble statues of the
" Horse-tamers," which are known to have stood one on
each side of the principal entrance, and are believed to
remain almost in the place where they stand to-day. The
Baths of Agrippa lay behind the Pantheon, but a fluted
column and ruined dome are all that remain of them in
the neighbouring streets, " Pumbella " and " Cumbella."
Lastly, there were the Baths of Titus, begun by him in
380 Vacation Rambles
A.D. 80, on the Esquiline, which included the sites of
Maecenas' Villa and the Golden Palace of Nero, which
(I suppose) he must have demolished to make room for
them ; but the tradition as to these ruins seems even more
vague than that of any of the other baths. I think you
must allow that so far I have proved my case, that Rome
is the city of surprises.
Ever since my " Roman baths' round," the contrast of
Imperial Rome and our London has been popping up.
Why have not we, at any rate, one or two public baths on
something like the old Roman scale 1 Did they really
let any Roman citizen bathe free of charge 1 Could we
possibly do that ? and how 1 Well, after all, it only wants
a Caesar to work the " panem et circenses " trick astutely.
And have not we got at last our equivalent for Nero or
Titus in our County Council 1 ? True, our many -headed
Caesar has not the tribute of a conquered world to draw
on, or an unlimited supply of prisoners of war, slaves, and
poor Christians to set to the work. But has not he the
rates of London at his mercy- — not a bad equivalent —
and the Collectivist Trade-Unionist, who may possibly be
relied on to do as fair a day's work at the scale-wages as
the unpaid slave or Christian did for Titus ? Well, I do
not know that I should protest vigorously — only I am no
longer a London ratepayer.
Rome — Easter Day
We get our London papers here as regularly as you
do, only forty-eight hours later, and I see that readers at
home have been able to follow the course of the services
in St. Peter's and the Roman Churches during Passion
Week about as well as we who are on the spot, and so to
appreciate the thoroughness which the priesthood, from
cardinals downwards, for I am sorry to say the Pope is still
unable to take his usual part, throw into the attempt to
reproduce the supreme drama of our race, so far as this can
Vacation Rambles \%\
o {
be done, day by day, almost hour by hour. I have not,
however, noticed any mention of the " Tenebrse " at St.
John Lateran, a service of rather more than an hour,
from 4.30 to 5.30, on the afternoon of Good Friday,
when the last words have fallen from the cross, and
Joseph of Arimathsea, with the faithful women, has borne
away the scarred and bleeding body of the Lord of Life
to his own grave, in which no man has yet lain —
All the toil, the sorrow done,
All the battle fought and won,
as Arthur Stanley says, in one of the noblest hymns in
the English language. We had the good fortune the day
before to meet one of the Monsignori, an old friend,
formerly a hard - working and successful London in-
cumbent, who suggested that we should go, and to whom
I shall always feel grateful for the advice. We accordingly
were at the door of that splendid, but to my mind too
sumptuously decorated church, punctually at 4.30. The
procession had already reached the chancel, and were
taking their allotted places. Most of your readers will
probably be familiar with the church, but for those who
are not, I may say that the chancel is wider, I think,
than that in any of our cathedrals, and that the whole
space from the high altar to the solid marble rails —
about three and a half feet high, which divide the
chancel from the rest of the church — is open, with the sole
exception of the row of stalls which run along each side-
wall, and which are reserved for, and were now filled by,
priests. For this particular service, however (and for this
only, as I was told), a row of chairs was placed just
within the chancel-rails, for the Monsignori and other
priests of the Pope's household, who were already seated,
all in deep black, with their faces to the altar and their
backs to the congregation. They remained seated during
the whole service (though several of the priests from the
side-st;dls stepped down at intervals and took part in
the service), thus, it seemed to me, emphasising the
382 Vacation Rambles
division between priests and people, and impressing on
us beyond chancel -rails, the fact that we were there
rather as sightseers, spectators of a solemn ceremony,
than joint-sharers in an act of worship.
When we arrived the service had scarcely commenced,
though the organ was pealing solemnly through the vast
church ; but the whole of the space in front of the
chancel-rails was already filled by a dense crowd. Many
of those who were in front, close to the chancel-rails, knelt,
leaning on the rails, but by no means all, and the rest
stood — a noteworthy assembly. For there were at least as
many men as women, and of all classes. It is not easy
nowadays to recognise rank by dress or bearing ; but
there were certainly a considerable minority of well-
dressed, well-to-do people, mixed with soldiers in half a
dozen different uniforms (as I was glad to see), artisans,
peasants, men and women in force, the latter generally
leading a child or two by the hand, with a sprinkling of
young men, preparing, I suppose by their dress, for
priests' orders, who for the most part had books in which
they followed the service attentively, — no easy task
under the surrounding conditions. For though the front
ranks, two or three deep next the chancel-rails, were for
the most part stationary, the great mass behind was
constantly moving about and talking in low tones, — not
irreverently, but rather as they would be in England at any
large gathering where they could take no part themselves
in the performance, but felt that it was the right thing to
be there, and that they must not interfere with the
minority, who seemed to understand and appreciate what
was going on. I was not one of these latter, as I do not
understand music, and had no book of the words ; though
I was quite sensible that the pathos, chequered with
occasional bursts of triumph, and rendered by exquisite
tenors and boys' voices, was equal to any music I had
ever heard. Moreover, the sight of the splendidly
dressed priests, moving frequently about before the altar,
without any reason so far as I could see, and the swinging
Vacation Rambles ^8^
j^,)
of censers, the clouds of incense, and gestures to which I
could attach no meaning, inclined me to get out of the
crowd. With this view I looked about for my companion,
who, I found, had managed to reach the altar-rails. So
in order that we might be sure to meet at the end of the
service, I got quietly back to the door by which we had
entered, where I could hear the music and voices perfectly,
though out of sight of the chancel. Here I resolved to
wait, and at once became much interested in the people who
were constantly passing in or leaving the church. Soon
1 remarked that almost all of the former, especially the
peasant men and women with children, turned to the
right and disappeared for a minute or two before going
on to join the crowd in front of the chancel. So I
followed, and can scarcely say how much I was impressed by
what I saw. In a small side-chapel, near the entrance,
which was their destination, dimly lighted, a crucifix with
a life-sized figure of our Lord upon it was lying on a
stone couch raised some two feet from the floor. There
was no priest in charge, only two bright little choristers
(I suppose) in their white gowns ; and perfect silence
reigned in the chapel by the entrance of which I stood
and saw several men and women kneeling. They got up
one by one, and approaching the figure dropped again on
their knees, and, stooping, kissed, some the nail-prints in
the hands or feet, some the spear-wound in the side, but
none the face. The most touching sight was the fathers
or mothers when they rose from their knees lifting the
children and teaching them to kiss the wounds. I stood
there for at least twenty minutes, until the end of the
service in fact, and must have seen at least a hundred
men, women, and children enter. Of these, three only
failed to kneel and kiss the cross, the first, a well-dressed,
middle-aged woman, leading a restless small lap-dog,
which pulled and whined whenever his mistress was not
attending to him ; the others, two young girls — but quite
old enough to have known better — who marched in
amongst the kneeling figures, open guide-book in hand,
384 Vacation Rambles
noticed something in the chapel to which it referred, and
then marched ont. They passed close enough for me to
catch a word or two of their talk, which I am glad to say
was not English.
As I stood there and watched and listened, the distant
voices seemed to be chanting that grand old monk's-Latin
hymn, the " Dies Irse," and I fancied (I am afraid it was
pure fancy) I could hear : —
Quserens me sedisti lassus,
Redemisti crucem passus,
Tantus labor non sit cassus !
More than once I was haunted by the wish to enter and
kneel and kiss the cross, by the side of some poor Italian
woman and her child. I wish now that I had, but hope
it was a genuine Protestant instinct which hindered me.
At any rate I shall never have another chance. This
crucifix is only brought out once a year — on Good Friday
— and I shall never again be in St. John's Lateran on
that day for the " Tenebrse " service.
JOHN TO JONATHAN
An Address delivered in the Music Hall, Boston, on the 11th of
October 1870
This Address is printed precisely as it was spoken, at the
request of friends who had read extracts in our newspapers.
I am quite aware how superficial it must seem to English
readers, and would only remind them that I had no
Parliamentary debates, or other documents, to which to
refer. I am thankful myself to find that, while there are
startling gaps in it, there are no gross blunders as to facts
or dates. The kindliness with which it was listened to by
the audience, and discussed in the American press, allows
me to hope that the time has come when any effort to put
an end to the unhappy differences between the two
countries will be looked upon favourably in the United
States. The true men and women on both sides of the
Atlantic feel, with Mr. Forster, that a war between
America and England would be a civil war, and believe
with him that we have seen the last of civil war between
English-speaking men. Both nations are, I hope and
believe, for a hearty reconciliation, and it only remains
for the Governments to do their part.
Thomas Hughes.
It is with a heavy sense of responsibility, my friends,
and no little anxiety, that I am here to-night to address
you on this subject. I have been in this country now
some two months, and from the day I crossed your
2 C
386 Vacation Rambles
frontier I have received, from one end of the land to the
other, from men and women whom I had never seen in
my life, and on whom I had no shadow of a claim that I
could discover, nothing but the most generous, graceful,
and unobtrusive hospitality. I am not referring to this
city and its neighbourhood, in which all Englishmen are
supposed to feel very like home, and in which most of us
have some old and dear friend or two. I speak of your
States from New York to Iowa and Missouri, from the
Canadian border to Washington. Everywhere I have been
carried about to places of interest in the neighbourhood,
lodged, boarded, and cared for as if I had been a dear
relative returning from long absence. However de-
moralised an Englishman may become in his own country,
there is always one plank in his social morals which he
clings to with the utmost tenacity, and that is paying his
own postage stamps. My hold even on this last straw is
sadly relaxed. I am obliged to keep vigilant watch on
my letters to hinder their being stamped and posted for
me by invisible hands. I never before have so fully
realised the truth of those remarks of your learned and
pious fellow-citizen, Rev. Homer Wilbur, whose lucubra-
tions have been a source of much delight to me for many
years, when he says somewhere, " I think I could go near
to be a perfect Christian if I were always a visitor at the
house of some hospitable friend. I can show a great deal
of self-denial where the best of everything is urged upon
me with friendly importunity. It is not so very hard to
turn the other cheek for a kiss." I should be simply a
brute if I were not equally touched and abashed by the
kindness I have received while amongst you. I can never
hope to repay it, but the memory of it will always be
amongst my most precious possessions, and I can, at least,
publicly acknowledge it, as I do here this evening.
But, my friends, I must turn to the other side of the
picture. There is nothing — at any rate, no kind of
pleasure, I suppose — which is unmixed. From the
deepest and purest fountains some bitter thing is sure
Vacation Rambles t>^7
to rise, and I have not been able, even in the New World,
to escape the common lot of mankind in the Old. Every-
where I have found, when I have sounded the reason for
all this kindness, that it was offered to me personally,
because, to use the words of some whom I hope I may now
look on as dear friends, " We feel that you are one of us."
The moment the name of my country was mentioned a
shade came over the kindest faces. I cannot conceal from
myself that the feeling towards England in this country is
one which must be deeply painful to every Englishman.
It was for this reason that I chose the subject of this
lecture. I cannot bear to remain amongst you under any
false pretences, or to leave you with any false impressions.
I am not " one of you," in the sense of preferring your
institutions to those of my own country. I am before all
things an Englishman — a John Bull, if you will — loving
old England and feeling proud of her. I am jealous of her
fair fame, and pained more than I can say to find what I
honestly believe to be a very serious misunderstanding here,
as to the events which more than anything else have caused
this alienation. You, who have proved your readiness as
a people to pour out ease, wealth, life itself, as water, that
no shame or harm should come to your country's flag or
name, should be the last to wish the citizen of any other
country to be false to his own. My respect and love for
your nation and your institutions should be worth nothing
to you, if I were not true to those of my own country, and
did not love them better. For this reason, then, and in
the hope of proving to you that you have misjudged the
England of to-day — that she is no longer, at any rate, if
she ever was, the haughty, imperious power her enemies
have loved to paint her, interfering in every quarrel, sub-
sidising and hectoring over friends, and holding down foes
with a brutal and heavy hand, careless of all law except
that of her own making, and bent above all things on
heaping up wealth — 1 have consented to appear here to-
night. I had hoped to be allowed to be amongst you
simply as a listener and a learner. Since my destiny and
388 Vacation Rambles
your kindness have ordered it otherwise, I can only speak
to you of that which is uppermost in my thoughts, of which
my heart is full. If I say things which are hard for you
to hear, I am sure you will pardon me as you would a
spoilt child. You are responsible for having taught me to
open my heart and to speak my mind to you, and will take
it in good part if you do not find that heart and mind just
what you had assumed them to be.
I propose then, to-night, to state the case of my country
so far as regards her conduct while your great rebellion
was raging. In a fight for life, and for principles dearer
than life, no men can be fair to those who are outside.
The time comes when they can weigh both sides of the case
impartially. I trust that that time has now arrived, and
that I can safely appeal to the calm judgment of a great
people.
It is absolutely necessary, in order to appreciate what
took place in England during your great struggle, to bear
in mind, in the first place, that it agitated our social and
political life almost as deeply as it did yours. I am
scarcely old enough to remember the fierce collisions of
party during the first Eeform agitation, but I have taken
a deep interest, and during the last twenty years an active
part, in every great struggle since that time ; and I say
without hesitation, that not even in the crisis of the Free-
trade movement were English people more deeply stirred
than by that grapple between freedom and law on the one
hand, and slavery and privilege on the other, which was
so sternly battled through, and brought to so glorious and
triumphant a decision, in your great rebellion. There can
be, I repeat, no greater mistake than to suppose that there
was anything like indifference on our side of the water,
and no one can understand the question who makes it.
There was plenty of ignorance, plenty of fierce partisan-
ship, plenty of bewildered hesitation and vacillation
amongst great masses of honest, well-meaning people, who
could find no steady ground on the shifting sand of state-
ment and counter-statement with which they were deluged
Vacation Rambles 389
by those who did know their own minds, and felt by instinct
from the first that here was a battle for life or death ; but
there was, I repeat again, no indifference. Our political
struggles do not, as a rule, affect our social life, but during
your war the antagonism between your friends and the
friends of the rebel States often grew into personal hostility.
I know old friendships which were sorely tried by it, to
put it no higher. I heard, over and over again, men refuse
to meet those who were conspicuous on the other side. Any
of you who had time to glance at our papers will not need
to be told how fiercely the battle was fought in our press.
It is a mistake, also, to suppose that any section of our
people were on one side or the other. Let me say a few
words in explanation of this part of the subject. And first,
of our aristocracy. I do not mean for a moment to deny
that a great majority of them took sides with the Con-
federates, and desired to see them successful, and the great
Republic broken up into two jealous and hostile nations.
What else could you expect 1 Could you fairly look for
sympathy in that quarter 1 Your whole history has been
a determined protest against privilege, and in favour of
equal rights for all men ; and you have never been careful,
in speech or conduct, to conciliate your adversaries. For
years your papers and the speeches of your public men had
rung with denunciations (many of them very unfair) of them
and their caste. They are not much in the habit of allow-
ing their sentiments to find public expression, but they
know what is going on in the world, and have long
memories. It would be well if many of us Liberals at
home, as well as you on this side, would remember that in
this matter they cannot help themselves. A man in
England may be born a Howard, or a Cavendish, or a
Cecil, without any fault of his own, and is apt to " rear
up," as you say, when this accident is spoken of as though
it were an act of voluntary malignity on his part, and to
resent the doctrine that his class is a nuisance that should
be summarily abated. So, as a rule, they sided with the
rebellion; but that rule has notable exceptions.
^go Vacation Rambles
d
There were no warmer or wiser friends of the Union
than the Duke of Argyll, Lord Carlisle, and others ; and it
should be remembered that although the class made no
secret of their leanings, and many of them, I believe, sub-
scribed largely to the Confederate loan, no motion hostile to
the Union was ever even discussed in the House of Lords.
They have lost their money and seen the defeat of the
cause which they favoured — a defeat so thorough, I trust,
that that cause will never again be able to raise its head
on this continent. I believe they have learnt much from
the lesson, and that partly from the teaching of your war,
partly from other causes to which I have no time to refer,
they are far more in sympathy at this time with the nation
than they have ever yet been.
Of course, those who hang round and depend upon the
aristocracy went with them — far too large a class, I am
sorry to say, in our country, and one whose voice is too
apt to be heard in clubs and society. But Pall Mall and
Mayfair, and the journals and periodicals which echo the
voices of Pall Mall, do not mean much in England, though
they are apt to talk as though they did, and are sometimes
taken at their word.
The great mercantile world comes next in order, and
here, too, there was a decided preponderance against you.
The natural hatred of disturbances, which dominates those
whose main object in life is making money, probably
swayed the better men amongst them, who forgot alto-
gether that for that disturbance you were not responsible.
The worse were carried away by the hopes of gain, to be
made out of the sore need of the States in rebellion, and
in defiance of the laws of their own country. But amongst
the most eminent, as well as in the rank and file of this
class, you had many warm friends, such as T. Baring and
Kirkman Hodgson ; and the Union and Emancipation
Societies, of which I shall speak presently, found a number
of their staunch supporters in their ranks. The manu-
facturers of England were far more generous in their
sympathies, as my friend Mr. Mundella, who is present
Vacation Rambles 391
here to-night and was himself a staunch friend, can witness.
Cobden, Bright, and Forster were their representatives,
as well as the representatives of the great bulk of our
nation. I have no need to speak of them, for their names
are honoured here as they are at home.
Now, before I speak of your friends, let me first remind
you that it is precisely with that portion of the English
nation of which I have been speaking that your people
come in contact when they are in our country. An
American generally has introductions which bring him into
relations more or less intimate with some sections of that
society to which our aristocracy gives its tone ; or he is
amongst us for business purposes, and comes chiefly across
our mercantile classes. I cannot but believe that this fact
goes far to explain the (to me) extraordinary prevalence
of the belief here, that the English nation was on the side
of the rebellion. That belief has, I hope and believe,
changed considerably since the waves of your mighty storm
have begun to calm down, and I am not without hopes
that I may be able to change it yet somewhat more, with
some at least of those who have the patience and kindness
to listen to me this evening.
And now let me turn to those who were the staunch
friends of the North from the very outset. They were
gathered from all ranks and all parts of the kingdom.
They were brought in by all sorts of motives. Some few
had studied your history, and knew that these Southern
men had been the only real enemies of their country on
American soil since the War of Independence. Many
followed their old anti-slavery traditions faithfully, and
cast their lot at once against the slave-owners, careless of
the reiterated assertions, both on your side of the Atlantic
and ours, that the Union and not abolition was the issue.
Many came because they had learned to look upon your
land as the great home for the poor of all nations, and to
love her institutions and rejoice in her greatness as though
they in some sort belonged to themselves. All felt the
tremendous significance of the struggle, and that the future
39 2 Vacation Rambles
of their own country was almost as deeply involved as the
future of America. To all of them the noble words of one
of your greatest poets and staunchest patriots, which rang
out in the darkest moments of the first year of the war,
struck a chord very deep in their hearts, and expressed in
undying words that which they were trying to utter : —
strange New World, thet yit wast never young,
Whose youth from thee by gripin' need was wrung,
Brown foundlin' o' the woods, whose baby-bed
Was prowled roun' by the Injun's cracklin' tread,
An' who grew'st strong thru shifts an' wants an' pains,
Nussed by stern men with empires in their brains,
Who saw in vision their young Ishmel strain
With each hard hand a vassal ocean's mane,
Thou, skilled by Freedom an' by gret events
To pitch new States ez Old- World men pitch tents,
Thou, taught by Fate to know Jehovah's plan
Thet man's devices can't unmake a man,
An' whose free latch-string never was drawed in
Against the poorest child of Adam's kin, —
The grave's not dug where traitor hands shall lay
In fearful haste thy murdered corse away !
It was in this faith that we took our stand, with a firm
resolution that no effort of ours should be spared to help
your people shake themselves clear of the dead weight of
slavery, and to preserve that vast inheritance of which God
has made you the guardians and trustees for all the nations
of the earth, unbroken, and free from the standing armies,
disputed boundaries, and wretched heart-burnings and
dissensions of the Old World. It was little enough that
we could do in any case, but that little was done with all
our hearts, and on looking back I cannot but think was
well done.
There was no need at first for any organisation. Until
after the battle of Manassas Junction in 1861, there was
scarcely any public expression of sympathy with the
rebellion. The Times and that portion of the press which
follows its lead, and is always ready to go in for the side
Vacation Rambles 393
they think will win, were lecturing on the wickedness of
the war and the absurdity of the rebel States in supposing
that they could resist for a month the strength of the
North. The news of that first defeat arrived, and this
portion of our press swung round, and the strong feeling
in favour of the rebellion which leavened society and
the commercial world began to manifest itself. The
unlucky Trent business, and your continued want of success
in the field, made matters worse. We were silenced for
the moment ; for though, putting ourselves in your places,
we could feel how bitter the surrender of the two arch-
rebels must have been, we could not but admit that our
Government was bound to insist upon it, and that the
demand had not been made in an arrogant or offensive
manner. If you will re-read the official documents now, I
think that you too will acknowledge that this was so.
Then came Mr. Mason's residence in London, where his
house became the familiar resort of all the leading sym-
pathisers with the rebellion. The newspaper which he
started, The Index, was full, week after week, of false and
malignant attacks on your Government. The most bitter
of them to us was the constant insistence, backed by
quotations from Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Seward, that the
war had nothing to do with slavery, that emancipation was
far more likely to come from the rebels than from you.
" The lie that is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies,"
and we felt the truth of that wonderful saying. This had
been our great difficulty from the first. Our generation
had been reared on anti-slavery principles. AYe remem-
bered as children how the great battle was won in England,
how even in our nurseries we gave up sugar lest we might
be tasting the accursed thing, and subscribed our pennies
that the chains might be struck from all human limbs.
Emancipation had been the crowning -lory of England in
our eyes. But we found that this great force was not with
us, was even slipping away and drifting to the other side.
It was not only Mr. Mason's paper, and 1 he hacking he got
in our press, which was undermining it. The vehement
394 Vacation Rambles
o
protests of those who had been for years looked on by us
as the foremost soldiers in the great cause on your side
told in the same direction. I well remember the conster-
nation and almost despair with which I read in Mr. Phillips'
speech in this hall on 20th June 1861, "The Republicans,
led by Seward, offer to surrender anything to save the
Union. Their gospel is the constitution, and the slave
clause their sermon on the mount. They think that at the
judgment day the blacker the sins they have committed to
save the Union the clearer will be their title to heaven."
Something must be done to counteract this, to put the
case clearly before our people. Mr. Mason and his friends
were already establishing a Confederate States Aid Associa-
tion ; it must be met by something similar on the right
side. So in 1862 the Emancipation and the Union and
Emancipation Societies were started in London and in
Manchester, and in good time came Mr. Lincoln's pro-
clamation of emancipation to strengthen our hands. The
original manifesto of the Emancipation Society said — " To
make it clear by the force of indisputable testimony that
the South is fighting for slavery, while the North is fully
committed to the destruction of slavery, is the principal
object for which this society is organised. Its promoters
do not believe that English anti-slavery sentiment is dead
or enfeebled. They are confident that when the demands
and designs of the South are made clear, there will be no
danger of England being enticed into complicity with
them." We pledged ourselves to test the opinion of the
country everywhere by public meetings, and challenged
the Confederate States Aid Association to accept that test.
They did so ; but I never could hear of any even quasi
public meeting but one which they held in England. That
meeting was at Mr. Mason's house, and was, I believe,
attended by some fifty persons.
The first step of our societies was to hold meetings for
passing an address of congratulation to your President on
the publication of the Emancipation proclamation. It was
New Year's Eve 1862. Our address said: "We have
Vacation Rambles 395
watched with the warmest interest the steady advance of
your policy along the path of emancipation ; and on this
eve of the clay on which your proclamation takes effect we
pray God to strengthen your hands, to confirm your noble
purpose, and to hasten the restoration of that lawful
authority which engages, in peace or war, by compensation
or by force of arms, to realise the glorious principle on
which your constitution is founded — the brotherhood,
freedom, and equality of all men." The address was
enthusiastically adopted by a large meeting, chiefly com-
posed of working men. It was clear at once that there
was a grand force behind us, for we became objects of
furious attack. The Times called us impostors, and said
we got our funds for the agitation from American sources
— the fact being that we always refused contributions from
this side. The Satv/rday Review declared, in one of its
bitterest articles, that if anything could be calculated upon
as likely to defer indefinitely the gradual extinction of
slavery, it would be Mr. Lincoln's fictitious abolition of it.
We were meddlesome fanatics, insignificant nobodies, mis-
chievous agitators. This was satisfactory and encouraging.
We felt sure that, we had taken the right course, and not
a moment too soon. Then came the test of public meet-
ings, which you at least are surely bound to accept as a
fair gauge of what a people thinks and wills.
Our first was held on the 29th of January 1 8G3. We took
Exeter Hall, the largest and most central hall in London.
We did nothing but simply advertise widely that such a
meeting would be held, inviting all who cared to come, foes
as well as friends. Prudent and timid people shook their
heads and looked grave. The cotton famine was at its
worst, and tens of thousands of our workpeople were
"clemming" as they call it, starving as you might say.
Your prospects looked as black as they had ever done ; it
was almost the darkest moment of the whole war. Even
friends warned us that we should fail in our object, and
only do harm by showing our weakness; that the Con-
federate States Aid Association would spare no pains or
396 Vacation Rambles
money to break up the meeting, and a hundred roughs
sent there by them might turn it into a triumph for the
rebellion. However, on we went, — we knew our own
people too well to fear the result. The night came, and
familiar as I am with this kind of thing, I have never seen
in my time anything approaching this scene. Remember,
there was nothing to attract people; no well-known
orators, for we always thought it best to keep our Par-
liament men to their own ground ; no great success to
rejoice in, for you were just reeling under the recoil of
your gallant army from the blood-stained heights of
Fredericksburg ; no attack on our own Government ; no
appeal to political or social hates or prejudices ; only doors
thrown wide open, with the invitation, "Now let English-
men come forward and show on which side their sympathies
really are in this war." Notwithstanding all these disad-
vantages the great hall was densely crowded, so that there
was no standing room, and the Strand and the neighbour-
ing streets blocked with a crowd of thousands who could
find no place, long before the doors were open. We were
obliged to organise a number of meetings on the spur of
the moment in the lower halls, and even in the open streets.
In the great hall — where two clergymen, the Hon. Baptist
Noel and Mr. Newman Hall, and I myself, were the chief
speakers — as well as in every one of the other meetings,
we carried, not only without opposition, but, so far as I
remember, without a single hand being held up on the
other side, resolutions in favour of your Government, of
the Union, and of emancipation. The success was so
complete that in London our work was done.
Then followed similar meetings at Manchester, Sheffield,
Bristol, Leeds, in all the great centres of population, with
precisely the same result. I don't remember that the
enemy ever even attempted to divide a meeting. The
country was carried by acclamation. Our friends in
Liverpool wrote with some anxiety as to the state of feel-
ing there, and asked me to go down and deliver an address.
I went, and the meeting carried the same resolutions by a
Vacation Rambles 397
very large majority ; and those who, it was supposed,
came to disturb the proceedings, thought better of it when
they saw the temper of the audience, and were quiet.
Without troubling you with any further details of our
work, I may just add, as a proof of how those who profess
to be the most astute worshippers of public opinion changed
their minds in consequence of the answer of the country to
our appeals, that in August 1863 the Times supported our
demand on the Government for the stoppage of the steam-
rams.
In addition to this political movement, we instituted
also a number of freedmen's aid associations, in order that
those abolitionists in England who were still unable to put
faith in your Government might have an opportunity of
helping in their own way. These associations entered into
correspondence with those on your side, and sent over a
gootl many thousand pounds' worth of clothing and other
supplies, besides money. I forget the exact amount. It
was a mere drop in the ocean of your magnificent war
charities, but it came from thousands who had little enough
to spare in those hard times, and I trust has had the effect
of a peace-offering with those of your people who are con-
versant with the facts, and are ready to judge by their
actual doings even those against whom they think they
have fair cause of complaint.
So much for what I may call the unofficial, or extra-
parliamentary, struggle in England during your war. And
now let me turn to the action of our Government and of
Parliament. I might fairly have rested my case entirely
upon this ground. In the case of nations blessed as
America and England are with perfect freedom of speech
and action within the limits of law — where men may
say the thing they will freely, and without any cheek but
the civil courts — no one in my judgment has a right to
make the nation responsible for anything except what its
Government says and does. But I know how deeply the
conduct and speech of English society has outraged your
people, and still rankles in their minds, and I wished by
3 98 Vacation Rambles
some rough analysis, and by the statement of facts within
my own knowledge, and of doings in which I personally
took an active part, to show you that you have done us
very scant justice. The dress suit, and the stomach and
digestive apparatus, of England were hostile to you, and
you have taken them for the nation : the brain and heart
and muscle of England were on your side, and these you
have ignored and forgotten.
Now, for our Government and Parliament. I will
admit at once, if you please, that Lord Palmerston and
the principal members of his Cabinet were not friendly to
you, and would have been glad to have seen your Republic
broken up. I am by no means sure that it was so ; but
let that pass. I was not in their counsels, and have no
more means of judging of them than are open to all of
you. Your first accusation against us is, that the Queen's
proclamation of neutrality, which was signed and published
on the 13th of May 1861, was premature, and an act of
discourtesy to your Government, inasmuch as your new
Minister, Mr. Adams, only arrived in England on that very
day. Well, looking back from this distance of time, I
quite admit that it would have been far better to have
delayed the publication of the proclamation till after he
had arrived in London. But at the time the case was
very different. You must remember that news of the
President's proclamation of the blockade reached London
on 3rd May. Of course, from that moment the clanger of
collision between our vessels and yours, and of the fitting
out of privateers in our harbours, arose at once. In fact,
your first capture of a British vessel, the General Parklull of
Liverpool, was made on 1 2th May. But if the publication
of the proclamation of neutrality was a mistake, it was
made by our Government at the earnest solicitation of Mr.
Forster and other warm friends of yours, who pressed it
forward entirely, as they supposed, in your interest. They
wanted to stop letters of marque and to legitimise the
captures made by your blockading squadron. The Govern-
ment acted at their instance ; so, whether a blunder or not,
Vacation Rambles 399
the proclamation was not an unfriendly act. Besides,
remember what it amounted to. Simply and solely to a
recognition of the fact that you had a serious war on hand.
Mr. Seward had already admitted this in an official paper
of the 4th of May, and your Supreme Court decided, in
the case of the Amy Warwick, that the proclamation of
blockade was in itself conclusive evidence that a state of
war existed at the time. If we had ever gone a step
further — if we had recognised the independence of the
rebel States, as our Government was strongly urged to do
by their envoys, by members of our Parliament, and lastly
by the Emperor of the French — you would have had good
ground of offence. But this was precisely what we never
would do ; and when they found this out, the Confederate
Government cut off all intercourse with England, and
expelled our consuls from their towns. So one side blamed
us for doing too much, and the other for doing too little —
the frequent fate of neutrals, as you yourselves are finding
at this moment in the case of the war between Prussia and
France.
Then came the first public effort of the sympathisers
with the rebellion. After several preliminary skirmishes,
which were defeated by Mr. Forster (who had what we
lawyers should call the watching brief, with Cohden and
Bright behind him as leading counsel, and who used to go
round the lobbies in those anxious days with his pockets
bulging out with documents to prove how effective t he-
blockade was, and how many ships of our merchants yon
were capturing every day), Mr. Gregory put a motion on
the paper. He was well chosen for the purpose, as a
member of great experience and ability, sit tin-- on our side
of the House, so that weak-kneed Liberals would have an
excuse for following him, and though not himself in office,
supposed to be on intimate terms with the Premier and
other members of the Cabinet. His motion was simply
"to call the attention of the House to the expediency of
prompt recognition of the Southern Confederacy.' 1
It was set down for 7th June 1861, and I tell you we
4-00 Vacation Rambles
were all pretty nervous about the result. The Spectator,
Daily News, Star, and other staunch papers opened fire, and
we all did what we could in the way of canvassing ; but
until the Government had declared itself no Union man
could feel safe. Well, Lord John Russell, as the Foreign
Minister, got up, snubbed the motion altogether, said that
the Government had no intention whatever of agreeing to
it, and recommended its withdrawal. So Mr. Gregory and
his friends took their motion off the paper without a
debate, and did not venture to try any other during the
session of 1861. In the late autumn came the unlucky Trent
affair, to which I have already sufficiently alluded. Relying
on the feeling which had been roused by it, and cheered
on by the Mason club in Piccadilly and the Index news-
paper fulminations, and by the severe checks of the Union
armies, they took the field again in 1862. This time their
tactics were bolder. They no longer confined themselves
to asking the opinion of the House deferentially. Mr.
Lindsay, the great shipowner, who it was said had a small
fleet of blockade-runners, was chosen as the spokesman.
He gave notice of motion, " That in the opinion of this
House, the States which have seceded from the Union have
so long maintained themselves, and given such proofs of
determination and ability to support independence, that
the propriety of offering mediation with a view to ter-
minating hostilities is worthy of the serious and immediate
attention of Her Majesty's Government." Again we
trembled for the result, and again the Government came
out with a square refusal on the 18th of July, and this
motion shared the fate of its predecessor, and was with-
drawn by its own promoters.
Then came the escape of the Alabama. Upon this I
have no word to say. My private opinion has been
expressed over and over again in Parliament (where in my
first year, 1866, I think I was the first man to urge open
arbitration on our Government) as well as on the platform
and in the press. But I stand here to-night as an English-
man, and say that at this moment I have no cause to be
Vacation Rambles 401
ashamed of the attitude of my country. Two Govern-
ments in succession, Tory and Liberal, through Lords
Stanley and Clarendon, have admitted (as Mr. Fish states
himself in his last despatch on the subject) the principle
of comprehensive arbitration on all questions between
Governments. This is all that a nation can do. England
is ready to have the case in all its bearings referred to
impartial arbitration, and to pay whatever damages may
be assessed against her without a murmur. She has also
agreed (and again I use the language of Mr. Fish) " to
discuss the important changes in the rules of public law,
the desirableness of which has been demonstrated by the
incidents of the last few years, and which, in view of the
maritime prominence of Great Britain and the United
States, it would befit them to mature and propose to the
other states of Christendom." She has, in fact, surrendered
her old position as untenable, and agreed to the terms
proposed by your own Government. What more can you
ask of a nation of your own blood, as proud and sensitive
as yourselves on all points where national honour is in
question 1
But here I must remind you of one fact which you seem
never to have realised. The Alabama was the only one of
the rebel cruisers of whose character our Government had
any notice, which escaped from our harbours. The Sk&nan-
doah was a merchant vessel, employed in the Indian trade
as the Sea King. Her conversion into a rebel cruiser was
never heard of till long after she had left England. The
Georgia was actually reported by the surveyor of the Bonn I
of Trade as a merchant ship, and to be " rather crank."
She was fitted out on the French coast, and left the port
of Cherbourg for her first cruise. The Florida was fitted
out in Mobile. She was actually detained at Nassau on
suspicion, and only discharged by the Admiralty Court
there on failure of evidence. On the other hand, our
Government stopped the Bappahanmck, the Alexandra, and
the Pampero, and seized Mr. Laird's celebrated rams at
Liverpool, and Captain Osborne's Chinese flotilla, for
2 D
4-02 Vacation Rambles
which last exercise of vigilance the nation had to pay
£100,000.
Such is our case as to the cruisers which did you so
much damage. I believe it to be true. If we are mis-
taken, however, you will get such damages for each and
all of these vessels as the arbitrator may award. We
reserve nothing. I as an Englishman am deeply grieved
that any of my countrymen, for base love of gain or any
other motive, should have dared to defy the proclamation
of my Sovereign, speaking in the nation's name. I earnestly
long for the time when by wise consultation between our
nations, and the modification of the public law bearing on
such cases, not only such acts as these, but all war at sea,
shall be rendered impossible. The United States and
England have only to agree in this matter, and there is
an end of naval war through the whole world.
In 1863 the horizon was still dark. Splendid as your
efforts had been, and magnificent as was the attitude of
your nation, tried in the fire as few nations have been in
all history, those efforts had not yet been crowned with
any marked success. AVith us it was the darkest in the
whole long agony, for in it came the crisis of that attempt
of the Emperor of the French to inveigle us in a joint
recognition of the Confederacy, on the success of which his
Mexican adventure was supposed to hang. The details of
those negotiations have never been made public. All we
know is, that Mr. Lindsay and Mr. Eoebuck went to Paris
and had long conferences with Napoleon, the result of
which was the effort of Mr. Eoebuck (now in turn the
representative of the rebels in our Parliament) to force or
persuade our Government into this alliance. Then came
the final crisis. On the 30th of June 1863, a day memor-
able in our history as in yours, at the very time that your
army of the Potomac was hurrying through the streets of
Gettysburg to meet the swoop of those terrible Southern
legions, John Bright stood on the floor of our House of
Commons, on fire with that righteous wrath which has so
often lifted him above the heads of other English orators.
Vacation Rambles 403
He dragged the whole plot to light, quoted the former
attacks of Mr. Roebuck on his Imperial host, and then
turning to the Speaker, went on, "And now, sir, the
honourable and learned gentleman has been to Paris,
introduced there by the honourable member for Sunder-
land, and he has sought to become, as it were, a co-con-
spirator with the French Emperor, to drag this country
into a policy which I maintain is as hostile to its interests
as it would be degrading to its honour." From that
moment the cause of the rebellion was lost in England ;
for by the next mails came the news of the three days'
fight, and the melting away of Longstreet's corps in the
final and desperate efforts to break the Federal line on the
slopes of little Round Top. A few weeks more and we
heard of the surrender of Yicksburg, and no more was
heard in our Parliament of recognition or mediation.
I have now, my friends, stated the case between our
countries from an Englishman's point of view, of course,
but I hope fairly and temperately. At any rate, I have
only spoken of matters within my own personal knowledge,
and have only quoted from public records which are as
open to every one of you as they are to me. Search them,
I beseech you, and see whether I am right or not. If
wrong, it is from no insular prejudices or national conceit,
and you will at any rate think kindly and bear with the
errors of one who has always loved your nation well,
through good report and evil report, and is now bound to
it by a hundred new and precious ties. If right, all I beg
of you is, to use your influences that old hatreds and pre-
judices may disappear, and America and England may
march together, as nations redeemed by a common Saviour,
toward the goal which is set for them in a brighter future.
Shall it be love, or hate, John .'
It's you thet's to decide ;
Ain't your bonds held by Fate, John,
Like all the world's beside ?
So runs the end of the solemn appeal in "Jonathan to
404 Vacation Rambles
John," the poem which suggested the title of this lecture.
It comes from one who never deals in wild words. I am
proud to he able to call him a very dear and old friend.
He is the American writer who did more than any other
to teach such of us in the old country as ever learned them
at all, the rights and wrongs of this great struggle of yours.
Questions asked by such men can never be safely left on
one side. Well, then, I say we have answered them. We
know — no nation, I believe, knows better, or confesses
daily with more of awe — that our bonds are held by fate ;
that a strict account of all the mighty talents which have
been committed to us will be required of us English, though
we do live in a sea fortress, in which the gleam of steel
drawn in anger has not been seen for more than a century.
We know that we are very far from being what we ought
to be ; we know that we have great social problems
to work out, and, believe me, we have set manfully to
work to solve them, — problems which go right down
amongst the roots of things, and the wrong solution of
which may shake the very foundations of society. We
have to face them manfully, after the manner of our race,
within the four corners of an island not bigger than one
of your large States ; while you have the vast elbow-room
of this wonderful continent, with all its million outlets
and opportunities for every human being who is ready to
work. Yes, our bonds are indeed held by fate, but we are
taking strict account of the number and amount of them,
and mean, by God's help, to dishonour none of them when
the time comes for taking them up. We reckon, too, some
of us, that as years roll on, and you get to understand us
better, we may yet hear the words "Well done, brother,"
from this side of the Atlantic ; and if the strong old
islander, who, after all, is your father, should happen some
day to want a name on the back of one of his bills, I, for
one, should not wonder to hear that at the time of pre-
sentation the name Jonathan is found scrawled across
there in very decided characters. For we have answered
that second question, too, so far as it lies in our power.
Vacation Rambles 405
It will be love and not hate between the two freest of the
great nations of the earth, if our decision can so settle it.
There will never be anything but love again, if England
has the casting vote. For remember that the force of the
decision of your great struggle has not been spent on this
continent. Your victory has strengthened the hands and
hearts of those who are striving in the cause of govern-
ment, for the people by the people, in every corner of the
Old World. In England the dam that had for so many
years held back the free waters burst in the same year
that you sheathed your sword, and now your friends there
are triumphant and honoured ; and if those who were your
foes ever- return to power you will find that the lesson of
your war has not been lost on them. In another six years
you will have finished the first century of your national
life. By that time you will have grown to fifty millions,
and will have subdued and settled those vast western
regions, which now in the richness of their solitudes, broken
only by the panting of the engine as it passes once a day
over some new prairie line, startles the traveller from the
Old World. I am only echoing the thoughts and prayers
of my nation in wishing you God-speed in your great
mission. When that centenary comes round, 1 hope, if I
live, to see the great family of English-speaking nations
girdling the earth with a circle of free and happy com-
munities, in which the angels' message of peace on earth
and good-will amongst men may not be still a mockery
and delusion. It rests with you to determine whether
this shall be so or not. May the God of all the nations of
the earth, who has so marvellously prospered you hitherto,
and brought you through so great trials, guide you in
your decision !
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