_Later_.–Since writing the foregoing, John and E— and Hedley went off on the cow-catcher of an engine for two or three miles excursion! Dick did not “paddle his own canoe,” but the station master did for him on the lake here, and he _nearly_ succeeded in catching a large trout! He and I wandered afterwards on the Rocky Hill, and picked enough blueberries for dinner, and I refreshed my eyes with some lovely-berried red-leaved little shrubs. Since luncheon a telegram came, telling us we might go over the bridge, and so off we went, and on arriving walked all about, some sketching the fallen engine, &c. We set off with Mr. Egan the manager, in his car in front of us, _en route_ for Eat Portage, where I am finishing this journal up to this date, Wednesday, September 17th. It is lovely weather now, and this place is very pretty, and looks quite civilized after our wilderness kind of scenery. Mr. Egan is now going on to Winnipeg, and will post this for me. After our return from the Rockies to Winnipeg, we shall go to Chicago, Washington and Philadelphia, where write.
Letter No. 6.
_September 21st_, 1884.–I am beginning this in our car _en route_ to the Rockies, in fact with their snow-covered summits well in sight. I posted a letter to you, No. 5, at Winnipeg, and also a newspaper for Mary. From Winnipeg the Canadian Pacific Railway is much more comfortable, for on the boundless flat of the prairies there is no need for many tressel bridges or crumbling embankments, and we went along without fear, excepting that in the neighbourhood of settled parts, we had to look out for cows. Once we stopped very suddenly (their brakes are so good in America), having near gone over one in the dark. They use sometimes a curious kind of sound from the engine, not unlike the _moo_ of a cow in distress, and I saw it effectually drive some off the line. The maids met us at Winnipeg Station, and seemed anxious to go to the Rockies, so we settled they might, and they rushed back for their things, but they returned only in time to see our train off! On the whole we thought it was as well they had not come, for maids don’t generally like this kind of life, and we did not need them. We changed cooks at Winnipeg against my wish, but the others were not satisfied with our first one, and we have certainly not changed for the better; he is a coloured man called David, and has been ill, or pretends to be, since yesterday, and another coloured man whom, we call Jonathan, comes in to help him.
_Saturday_.–We arrived at Moose Jaw after a very rocking journey, so bad that I could not sleep, and sat in a chair part of the night; at last, however, the cold and sleepiness overcame all fear, and I slept in my bed soundly. We saw lots of Indians in red and white blankets, ugly and uninteresting creatures. We made acquaintance with the Roman Catholic Archbishop, who has been travelling in the car next to ours. He is a French Canadian, but talked English well. He is very pleasant. He introduced me to two priests, one of whom had been working among the Indians thirty years. Afterwards he had a talk with John, and remarked upon my youthfulness to be his mother. Of course, I am always being taken for his wife, and they seem very much puzzled about it altogether.
_Saturday night, the 20th_.–We reached Calgary after a quieter night–quite an important city. A good many wooden houses, two or three churches (I think the congregations must be very small in each), and on Sunday morning all the inhabitants were out in their best, the men loafing and smoking about, and quite smart-looking young ladies showing their finery with great enjoyment, as they do at home. A mounted police officer drove a pair of good horses to meet some of his men, and there are cavalry barracks here for them. The train twice a week from Winnipeg is their only communication with the outer world, so when it arrives everyone, even from long distances, crowds the platform. We always take a walk at these resting places, but it is nervous work to go far, as the train starts without any notice, and they never keep to the time named.
_Wednesday, September 25th_.–After leaving Calgary, which I forgot to say is near a coal mine (Mr. de Winton, son of Sir Francis, has a ranch near), and is likely to be an important place some day, we went to Laggan, which is well into the mountains, and there we saw Professor George Ramsay, brother of Sir James, and he told us to get hold of the contractor, Mr. Ross, who would help us about going further on. The railway people, &c., all said to our great disgust that ladies would not be allowed to go down the steep incline to British Columbia; upon this we found out Mr. Boss, and he kindly consented to take us down the Pacific slope in his own car. At first the boys said I had better remain behind in our own car, but I felt that if there was a risk I would rather encounter it with them, and I wanted to see more of the country, so we prepared to start on Monday, but it poured, and Mr. Ross would not go till Tuesday. We took a small bag with night-gown, brush and comb, &c., and left the rest of our goods in charge of the odious, but I think honest, David, and started yesterday morning in Mr. Ross’s car, in some respects a more convenient one than ours, for it has a writing table and a stove in the sitting room after an early breakfast at half-past seven. It was a glorious sunny day. We had two engines reversed, one before and one behind, and no end of brakes with safety ‘switches,’ every now and then to be turned on and to send us up hill if the engines ran away with us, and we crept down very slowly. It was very exciting, and the scenery magnificent, vistas of snowy mountains opening continually as we turned the corners, covered with brilliant yellow and red and purple foliage; and when we came to the foot of Mount Stephen (called after Mr. George Stephen, of Montreal), Mr. Ross said, “we ought to call one mountain Rayleigh.” I exclaimed, “Oh, yes! There is a beautiful snow one which has been in sight all the way coming down, let that be Raleigh.” And so it was agreed, and E— and I sketched it.–Afterward Mr. Ross, said, “Rayleigh has quite a family after him,” a curious succession of gradually decreasing tops, and we agreed that they should be _his five brothers_. At one place we went down to a bridge, very high over a river, and I thought, “it would be unpleasant if the engine runs away here,” but curiously enough I was not at all nervous, for I felt so much care was taken, and it was a glorious day, and the scenery lifted one’s soul above the small things of life _here_, and made one think of Him who created all these wonders, and yet became our human friend and sympathizer, and now lives to give us bye and bye even “greater things than these!” At last we got to the _Flats_ all safe, and then John and Dick walked to the end of the “construction,” about five miles. If one was prepared to ride and rough it exceedingly, one could reach the Pacific in ten days, but ladies could not undergo the hardships, and we would not be left alone. Mr. Ross informed us that we must return soon to Kicking Horse Lake and Laggan, as there would be no train later. However, we said that John was extremely anxious to see the working of the line at the end, and it would be a great pity for him not to have the time, and “_could_ we stay the night?” He replied, “certainly.” Hedley and E— walked on at a great pace after the other two, beyond my powers, and I sauntered on quietly alone, only meeting a few men, belonging to the railway in most cases and working on the line, which is the only _road_ which one can walk on comfortably here, and I got three miles, but then a horrid bridge stopped me, as I hate walking on planks far apart over a height without a helping hand. I have been all along struck with the far superior accent and good English of the working men in America (Canada especially); they have often very good features, too, and wear a well-shaped moustache, and meet one with a smile. They treat one as equals, but they are not at all rude, and are always willing to help. I spoke to some in my solitary walk, and only that they were hard at work hammering in nails, &c., I should have liked to “tell them a story.” They all returned from end of “construction” on a truck train, Dick and E— on an open car, and Hedley and John in the cab of the engine. We then dined; such a fat coloured man Mr. Ross has in his car! He could hardly squeeze through the narrow passages, but he managed to give us something to eat. Mr. Ross received a telegram later to say Mr. Angus, our host at Montreal, Mr. Donald Smith, both directors of the Canadian Pacific Railway, Mr. Cyrus Field, &c., &c., were at Calgarry, and wanted to _come on_, so all is arranged for them, and they are expected soon, and we hope to return with them this afternoon to Laggan, to our own car. Last evening E— suddenly said, “I wish we could sleep in a tent?” Mr. Ross answered, “I can easily manage it for you,” and accordingly two men of business (I think contractors for food, &c.), were turned out of their tent, and came to our car, and John and E— slept in their small tent near the river. I don’t think they will want to do it _again_, and I was better off in a nice room all to myself, where I could dress comfortably, but had not many appliances for that end. We all met at eight o’clock breakfast, and our black man (who looked more than ever like a large bolster, well filled and tied at the top for his head), cooked us an eatable beef-steak, and after this John and Mr. Ross’s brother “_Jack_” rode off to penetrate as far as they could beyond “construction.” I am a little nervous about his ride, for the road is a mere track, and very rough, however, wagons and mules _do_ travel on it. E— has made many pretty sketches; mine are scanty and perfectly horrid. I don’t improve at all. The sun is trying to come out. We are on a siding, close to numbers of tents and mules and wagons, a sort of depot for provisions, clothes, &c. I have never seen a tipsy man or woman since I landed at Quebec! and in many parts of Canada alcohol cannot be bought, and the penalty is _always_ severe for selling or giving it to an Indian. Further on I passed yesterday quite a “city” of tents; over one was printed “Hotel Fletcher,” another, “Restaurant, meals at all hours,” “Denver Hotel,” “Laundry,” “Saloon,” &c. These are _speculations_, and are not connected with railway officials. Some of the men (one was taking a photograph of “the city,”) have the American _twang_. Mr. Rosa is going off directly the directors arrive, far into the interior, on an exploring tour into the Selkirk range, &c. The line is “graded” about fifty miles further on, and the bridges and tunnels are making. They are working the other end from Port Moodie on the Pacific, and will meet by the spring of next year. What a pity the British Association’s visit to Canada was not in 1885 instead of 1884? Some day are going to carry the line higher up, so as to avoid the steep incline down which we travelled so cautiously, but they are very anxious to get the line done _somehow_, and it is really wonderful at what a pace they go.
_Calgarry, September 27th_.–On Wednesday, 24th, after John had gone off riding, Dick and I waited about for the directors’ car, which we expected that morning, but alas! though it arrived at eleven, they only stopped at the telegraph office a moment, took no notice of us, and went on to the end of “construction,” returning in about an hour, (John got back much later, and we wondered why Mr. Ross advised him to go, as it obliged him to miss this car); they again only made a pause, during which Dick spoke to Mr. Angus, and E— also had a few words with Mr. D. Smith, but she was too modest in urging our claims to be helped on up the incline and they went and left us in the lurch. I heard afterwards that the American part of the company were in a great hurry to get on, Mr. Angus Field having telegrams following him all along the line, but we should not have detained them, and they would only have had to drop us at Laggan, where our own car was waiting. So we had to wait another night, and all went to bed very grumpy!
_Thursday, 25th_.–After breakfast we walked some way, and then Hedley and I remained at the telegraph station (this is the only source of information in these parts), and the others went on. An hour or two later the freight train began to think of starting up the incline, and Hedley and I got into the cab of the engine. We soon came up with E—, who joined us there. Some two or three miles further on John and Dick appeared, wildly gesticulating as they stood on the middle of the line to try and stop us, but the engineer declared we were now on too steep an incline, and on we went, much to our dismay, for this entailed thirty or forty miles walk for rheumatic John and not over-strong Dick. We reached the top all right, and found ourselves at “Kicking Horse Lake,” and to our great relief up walked John and Dick. It seems they made a rush at the train as it passed, and John jumped on an open car all right–but Dick caught his foot in a sleeper and fell down, but had the presence of mind to pick himself up very quickly, and caught the last engine (we had one at each end) and jumped on the cow catcher! I shuddered to think what _might_ have happened to Dick when he fell, but he only got a bruise on his knee and a severe injury to his trousers! We reached Laggan about half-past one, and found our cook still much of an invalid, with a real negro to assist him! I think the negroes are much more manly and altogether pleasanter than the half-breeds, who are mean, discontented, and impertinent when they dare. This negro was a capital servant, and had lived with his present master (to whom he was returning after the said master’s absence in Europe) twelve years. We left Laggan at half-past nine, Friday 26th, and had glorious scenery, most of which we had previously passed in the dark. Rocky mountains with their snowy tops all about us, and the lovely yellow and red and purple colouring on their sides. E— sketched vigorously and I smudged! We reached Calgarry about five, and found the Indians in great force, for they had received their treaty money quite lately, and were arrayed in gorgeous blankets of red and white and blue, and any number of gold and coloured beads! They are quiet enough, and don’t look at all as if they would venture to scalp us, or make an oration like “Chincanchooke” with dignified eloquence; the expression of the elder ones is unpleasant, and you can see at once the results of even a _little_ education by the brighter and happier countenances of the boys and girls. I took a lonely walk on the prairie, over which a strong cold wind was blowing. I saw several people riding in the distance. We left Calgarry on 27th, Saturday, by a train partly freight, and consequently it rocked and jumped, and crashed and crunched, and we could scarcely play whist, or hear each other speak, and when we went to bed sleep was banished, at least from _my_ eyes. I watched the stars instead, and the brilliant morning star about three or four o’clock shining like a small moon, and then the sun rise over the prairie. We arrived at Winnipeg about six o’clock, on _Monday, 29th_; our _nasty_ cook had no dinner provided for us, and though we had authority for remaining that night in the car to sleep, conflicting orders produced all kinds of unpleasantness, and we were shunted about and taken two or three miles off from the depot where alone we could get anything to eat. After making a great fuss we were taken back and had a good dinner at the restaurant, which we enjoyed after our monotonous fare in the car. Our maids, who had been a fortnight at the Hotel doing nothing but spending our money, met us and brought letters, &c. Dick heard from Augusta for the first time–her letters had not reached him.
LORD RAYLEIGH, THE PRESIDENT OF THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION, AND PARTY RETURN FROM THE ROCKIES.
Lord Rayleigh, the president of the British Association for the advancement of Science, Lady Rayleigh, Clara Lady Rayleigh, Hon. Hedley Strutt and Hon. Richard Strutt returned yesterday afternoon from the Rookies in a private car attached to the regular train.
A TIMES reporter boarded the car about nine o’clock last night, and had a pleasant chat with Lord Rayleigh and the members of the party. They went to within a few miles of the Columbia River, saw the rails being laid on the Canadian Pacific Railway and were very much pleased with the wonderful rapidity the work was being done. Lord Rayleigh said he thought the Rockies were one of the wonders of the world–next to the Canadian Pacific, chimed in Mr. Strutt and Clara Lady Rayleigh. The latter said the party were struck with the brightness, intelligence and kindness of the men along the Canadian Pacific Railway line. The kindness they had shown to them would never be forgotten. The party could scarcely believe that the towns along the railway had grown up to their present size within the past two or three years, as they did not think it possible in a new country like this. They were loud in their praises of the country, and predicted that thousands of emigrants would come from England to Manitoba as a result of the Association’s visit here. The party put up at the Potter House to-day, and will leave for the east to-night–_Winnipeg Daily Times, September 30th._
Letter No. 7
_Washington, Sunday, 5th_
I was obliged to leave off yesterday, and now proceed to take up the tale begun in the train to Chicago. I was telling you about our arrival at Winnipeg, &c. We returned to our car after dinner and found ourselves, during our first sleep, shunted off to a repairing shed, and presently I heard what seemed a shower of stones thrown all over the car. I could look out of a window sitting up in my bed, and on doing so, I saw two men violently throwing water over it from a hose, and some of it came into my bed, upon which I showed my lovely countenance with dishevelled hair and indignant expression, and called out: “Are you going to drown me in my bed?” and then I heard a man say–“La! there is a young lady at the window! don’t disturb her!” however, just at dawn they were at it again, and at six o’clock began to move us into the shed. I jumped up and expostulated in my dressing gown on the platform (all the rest were in their beds) and insisted upon their asking for orders from headquarters; just then, fortunately, an early bird in the shape of a representative of the _Press_ appeared, and I got John to talk to him, and he went off to the authorities, and we were shunted to the depot again, and so got our breakfast by ten o’clock; the reporters always think I am John’s wife (E— is generally out of the way), and I believe the last idea is, that John and I have a grown up family, of which E— is one! It is rather fun to be _interviewed_, and John is now less shy about it, and consents to be pumped (in a _measure_). After breakfast we all drove in a horse-car up the main street, and were twice off the rails and sunk into a mud hole, and the boys had to help in lifting the omnibus out of it. They are slowly paving the streets, but there _never_ was such a muddy lane calling itself a street anywhere before, I am sure; there are nice shops, however, and respectably dressed people walking or driving. We lunched and _cleaned_ ourselves at _Potter House_, where the maids had been living during our absence in the Rockies, and it seems Mrs. Smith, the landlady, came from Lady Ward’s, and knew the Claughtons, and lived, for years with the Miss Bakers at Boss, (these unexpected encounters make one realize how narrow the world is). The country is ugly about Winnipeg, and so after paying a visit to the Archdeacon, whom we met in going there some fortnight ago, and seeing his nice house and wife, we dined at the depot and left for _Chicago_, our coloured cook was walking and dawdling about apparently quite well, now that he had got rid of us. We had sleeping berths in the train–an unknown man slept in the one over mine, and I had to dress and undress behind the curtains of my own. We breakfasted at Barnsville Wednesday morning, and that evening stopped in pouring rain at _Milwaukie_; it is a finely situated town, but the station had been lately burnt down, and we were very cold and uncomfortable for two hours. Poking about to amuse themselves, the boys saw a large long deal box, directed Mrs. J. Stacey, and on a card attached, “This is to certify Mr. J. Stacey did not die of any infectious complaint.” So he was waiting there to be sent on to her by next train, and we hope she got him safely.
_Thursday, Two o’clock p.m._, we reached Chicago. Minnieappolis, which we passed through, is likely to be a fine city. We went to the Grand Pacific Hotel and were separated by long corridors and staircases, and spent our time chiefly in trying to find one another amidst its vast solitudes. Of course one never sees a chambermaid, or any one, and the quantity of little dishes and fine sounding names which one is served with at meals does not make up for the other discomforts.
_Friday, 3rd._–John had a letter to the pork-killing man, Mr. Armour, and he kindly sent two carriages for us, with an assistant, who was to lionize us about. We drove first to the Bank and got some money, and then through the best parts of the town, along the Michigan Boulevards, through which we had glimpses of the Lake, but everything here is sacrificed to the almighty _dollar_, and the railway engines poke themselves in everywhere, down the best streets, and destroying the prettiest landscapes, and making unearthly noises close to your bedroom, or puffing their steam out under your nose as you walk.
Chicago looks a more bustling, and a newer and a more railroad- dominated place than Glasgow, but like it in smoke and business aspect. As to the Boulevards, the houses are most of them new, and some in startling styles of architecture. Some in red, which are very good. One was nearly finished of white marble, quite a palace, with more ground than usual round it; but alas, for human hopes, the man who owns it and _millions_ of dollars, has lately been pronounced _mad_, is in the care of a wife whom he lately married, and who does not care for him, and he will die before his marble palace is finished. There are no _prettinesses_, flowers, &c., about these fine houses, perhaps accounted for by the forty or fifty degrees below zero which they sometimes enjoy at Chicago. After six miles driving we got to the Piggery, &c., and the least said about that the better; it is certainly wonderful, but disgusting–the most interesting parts were the enormous yards containing _cattle_, all arranged comfortably, with hay and water, &c., and the tin-making business for the preserved meats (the tin all comes from England). Travelling for the last three or four weeks we have seen little hills of tin boxes perpetually along the line, as the people in the trains and stations, &c., seem to live almost entirely on tinned goods. After this we had a hasty luncheon, and I decided to accompany John and E— here, and not wait for Dick who wanted to stay longer. We could not find our maids to tell them, and I had to pack a great deal myself, meaning to leave Gibson to follow with the rest, but they turned up at last, and we had a great scrimmage to get off in the “bus.” John thought we might not have time to check our luggage, and so began to seek for tickets to give the maids, but he could not understand them so a kind American in the ‘bus explained them, and after all we were in time, thanks again to the said American, who _passed_ E— and me to the train, assuring the railway people that he had seen our tickets, and he also got us into the sleeping car. When I was thanking him warmly, I added, “You must be amused to see such distracted English travellers?” “Well,” he answered, “we are as bad in your country till we are used to it.” After a great deal of shaking and going a great pace round many curves, which quite prevented us sleeping, we got _here_ (Washington) yesterday at six o’clock. A man met us who was sent by an astronomer friend of John’s, and brought us to this hotel, Wormley’s. On our way in a spic and span omnibus we felt _going down_ on one side, and found a wheel had come of. We jumped out, and a crowd collected, and finally we had to transfer our baggage and ourselves into another omnibus, and got through some handsome wide streets, with trees each side and good shops, to this hotel. Our first view of Washington was a lovely one, coming in with the Potomac river in front, and the fine Capitol, on a hill, backed by a glorious red sunset, which reflected all in the river; it looked like an Italian scene. This is said to be a “city of magnificent distances,” being planned for future greatness, and very like Paris in conception. We found acquaintances here, and John went with, one to the Observatory. This morning we all went to the American Episcopal Church, St. John’s, rather “high,” but nothing really objectionable. This is the centenary of the consecration of the first American Bishop, Dr. Siebury, Bishop of Connecticut, who, after having implored _our_ Bishops in London to consecrate him, went at last to Scotland, and “there in an upper room received Apostolic orders from the Scotch Bishops, then called non-jurors.” We were all struck with the handsome features of both men and women in church. In company with a great many others, we remained to Holy Communion, and I don’t think I ever enjoyed it more than among these brethren–strangers, and separated by the wide Atlantic from our English Church, but joined to us by “one Lord, one faith,” &c. After luncheon John had a chat with a French scientist, and Mr. Rutherford and his handsome son, and General and Mrs. Strachy, and Professor Adams, the astronomer; many of these people are here in conclave about _Greenwich_ time, &c. John and E— are now gone driving about with his friend. It is _very hot_, and poor Hedley is quite knocked down, but we took a little walk.
_Later_.–After dinner a good many adjourned to the drawing-room, Captain and Mrs. Ray, the Strachys, Rutherfords, &c. We had a scientific experiment with the shadow of the moon. Mr. Ray told a curious story of a wasp. He saw it advance slowly to a great _spider_, which the wasp apparently completely mesmerised, and then the wasp carried him off to a little house he had made, and deposited the spider next an _egg_, then another _egg_, and again another spider, till there was a long row alternately, then the larvae awoke to life, and _lived_ upon the spiders, who remained fat and well-liking, and apparently alive up to that point. Captain Ray says he believes Mr. Scott is right in saying that the American side will never be able to give us warning of storms which will be of any use, for not more than one in ten of their storms reach us; our storms come from the North and Mid-Atlantic. Captain Ray fills the same post here that Mr. Scott does in London, meteorological and weather prophet. Presently a nigger of fine appearance, with a companion, played the banjo and sung. It was really very pretty, and we stood at the porch listening, and numbers of white-robed figures appeared on the opposite side (the young women so arrayed walk about a good deal these hot nights), and a little crowd gathered round us. It is surprising how little music and amusement they seem to have.
Letter No 8.
_Washington, Wormley’s Hotel, Monday, 6th._
The weather has been “exceptionally” hot, they say, for the time of year, Hedley quite unable to do anything. John went up the Monument, five hundred feet, and I went with Gibson to see the Capitol. The dome looks pretty from a distance, but the whole thing strikes me as large, handsome, uninteresting and vulgar; we inspected the Congress Hall and Senate Chamber. The view from the terrace was fine. At four o’clock Hedley and I accompanied Mr. Strachy to Arlington Heights, where there is a large cemetery for soldiers. It was formerly the country home of General Robert Lee, the hero of the Confederate War. It was intensely melancholy to drive through the graves of eleven thousand and odd soldiers, all killed in the second battle of Bull’s Run (I believe), two thousand of them _unknown_, and buried in one grave, mostly young volunteers who had _just_ joined. Each white stone told the story of the bereaved families, and the destruction of so much happiness. The view of the Potomac and Washington is very fine, and one thought sorrowfully of the poor Lees who gave up their pretty home and _all else_, for the sake of Virginia, and in vain!
_Tuesday, 7th_.–John and E— and I went to Mount Vernon, Washington’s residence and tomb. H— somehow missed us, which quite spoilt _my_ day. The air in the steamer was delightful, and the Potomac is mildly pretty. We were left at Mount Vernon, and I was disgusted with the shabbiness and untidiness of the tomb of the great patriot; that even in _his_ case such a want of sentiment and reverence should be shown does not speak well for his countrymen. I spoke of this to many people afterwards, and they say it is owing to his family, who would not allow the tomb to be moved. In the evening we dined with our Minister, Mr. West, at the Embassy. It is a fine house, and we enjoyed our evening. There were only Mr. Johnstone and Mr. Helier attached to the Legation, besides ourselves. Miss West now presides over her father’s house, and is very attractive; brought up in a convent in Paris, and speaks English with a strong accent. Miss West has given me some letters of introduction to people at Newport. They showed us some curious beans, which jumped about in an odd way when held over the light a little while. It is said there is a worm inside, which is influenced by the warmth.
_Wednesday_.–We meant to leave to-day, but Dick turned up unexpectedly from Chicago, and we put off going to Philadelphia that we might start together. We went over the White House to-day, where the President lives, and saw the blue room in which he receives every one, rather ugly I thought it, and the bedroom in which President Garfield was ill, &c. In the afternoon John and E— went to Baltimore, as he has scientific acquaintances there, and I don’t know when we shall meet again.
_Thursday_.–Hedley has just returned from Dick’s hotel, and says he does not go to Philadelphia to-day, so we start alone at two o’clock. Last night two violent showers of rain cleared the atmosphere, and it is quite cool and pleasant this morning. I heard from Mr. B— from Baltimore, and he says he is going to be married on the 15th, and hopes we will go to pay them a visit on the 16th; however, as the time does not suit, and I don’t know his intended wife, I have declined.
_Friday, 10th, Hotel Lafayette, Philadelphia._
Last night I had the great pleasure of receiving four letters–one from you, and one from C— and Mary, and Margaret. We left Dick behind at Washington, but he arrived last night; the journey was a pleasant one and the scenery pretty, especially Chesapeake Bay. I hear mosquitos swarm at Baltimore and so I am glad we did not go there. This is a very large hotel and I am on seventh floor, No. 750! Close to me is a fire escape, which I carefully investigated. We got cheated coming here from the station, and _so did Dick_, to our great triumph! The country coming here was more English and well populated than any we have seen. Going up in the lift who should I find there but Dr. Gladstone, one of our fellow passengers on the “Parisian;” we all laughed. Since I began this a very kind note has come by hand from Mr. Childs, of the _Public Ledger_, saying Mrs. C— is at New York, but he will try to get her back on Saturday; he is coming to call at a quarter-past two, and offers us carriages to drive about.
_Half-past One_.–We have just come back from seeing the Roman Catholic Cathedral–not much worth seeing excepting a beautiful picture of our Lord as a Child among the doctors. We also saw the Academy of Arts, but there was nothing we cared for. I have had a kind note from Mrs. James Neilson, who hopes to see us at New Brunswick, _en route_ for New York.
_Sunday, 12th_.–Mr. Childs came, a short, stout man, and very kind; he sent the carriage at three, and we drove in Fairmount Park, the largest park in the world, and really very pretty; saw conservatories and gardens with bright, but only _foliage_, plants–wonderful perillas, alternantheras, tresine, &c. It was a most lovely evening and we enjoyed the three hours’ airing; it was perfectly clear and still, with sunshine and fresh balmy air. Yesterday (Saturday) directly after breakfast we went as by appointment to Mr. Childs’ office; he has a beautifully fitted-up room, filled with all kinds of curiosities,–Tom Moore’s harp, Washington’s chair, Louis Napoleon’s cup and saucer, splendid clocks of all kinds; one of them belonged to Lord Howe, which he had to leave behind him when he was “obliged to run away from the States in such a hurry!” Mr. Childs’ seemed to think I must know all about this, but I am afraid I had quite forgotten that humiliation. This reminds me of a story I heard lately of an American lionizing an Englishman about; they came within sight of Bunker’s Hill, and the American as delicately and modestly as he could announced: “_That_, sir, is Bunker’s Hill,” the Englishman put up his glass and looked, and then said: “And who was Bunker, and what did he do on his hill?” Imagine the American’s indignation at this gross ignorance! To return to Mr. Childs’ room; while there several ladies called, and among them Mrs. Bloomfield Moore; she talked well and we made friends, and she proposed to call for us and take us a drive, to which we agreed. After she had gone Mr. Childs told me she was a poetess and a millionaire, and was supposed to be engaged to Browning the poet. A man was then told off to escort us over the building, and a wonderful place it is. All the printing and editorial work and “job” work so beautifully arranged and everything in such perfect order. The _Public Ledger_ prints about 80,000 a day, or rather night, and Mr. Childs is the proprietor. Almost all the American news comes to us from his office from a Mr. Cook, who telegraphs it to the _Times_. Mr. Cook told me that all the speeches at the opening of the British Association meeting at Montreal–Lord Lansdowne’s, Sir William Thomson’s, &c.,–were telegraphed to London before they were delivered, John’s address had been left in London before he started. Mr. Cook got the substance of these speeches beforehand. After this we went to the Electric Exhibition going on here, and Dick tried an organ; then we had a drive with —-; she talked all the time and told me all about her husband and his will, and how astonished everyone was to find what immense confidence in her it proved; she knows Mrs. Capel Cure and Miss Western, and she has just bought a good house in London. She is much interested in Mr. Keally (the inventor of Keally’s motor), and has supported him through all the incredulity and opposition he has met with; she believes he has discovered a new force, and has just made some experiments before ten or twelve people, in which without any apparent power of machinery he produced astonishing results, _not_ electric and not compressed air, or, if the latter, he has found one a way of producing wonderful power without the usually necessary accompaniments. This is what _I hear; he_ says it is a force in ether, which is a medium separating atoms, but he will not tell his secret till he has taken out his patents. Mr. Childs sent us some tickets for the opera here, and I gave Mrs. A. B— one, and we all went, the music was pretty and singing good. Mr. Rosengarten, a friend of Mr. Childs, came into the box, and between one of the acts asked me if I would like to see some typical American political meetings? I said “Oh, yes;” so he carried me off, and the boys followed, to a splendid opera house, which was crammed to the galleries by a very respectable-looking, quiet audience, listening most attentively to the “Prohibition” candidate, who was shouting and apparently pleasing them much, but being behind him on the platform (they wanted me to go close to him but I would not), I could not hear the point of his jokes. Then we went to the Academy of Music, also a very large place, where a more rowdy lot were listening very quietly, however, to General Butler. Certainly no meetings of such size could take place in England with such entire absence of noise or policemen, of carriages, or cabs. We went to bed very tired having had so much to interest us all day. Mr. Childs, by the bye, has sent me a present of some china and a box full of lovely roses, which I shared with the sons and Mrs. A. B—. I see I have not mentioned before that I received yours and Mary’s letter of 28th September, which came very soon after my birthday. This morning we went to a Presbyterian Church by mistake, but it was very dull and we soon went out and went to another close by, which turned out to be Ritualistic, but at any rate the music, and better still, the sermon, was very good,–“What think ye of Christ?” It was all of Him, so no one could object, not even you! Hedley and I then rushed off to the Lincoln Institution for Training Indian Girls, where Mr. Rosengarten was to meet us. It is a very interesting and useful work (the boys are also under training but we did not see that part of the Institution) and the girls look so thriving and happy, and the teachers say they are _above_ the average in intelligence; they sung a chant and hymn and gave me a photograph to take home. Mr. Rosengarten offered to take Hedley with him for a drive to see some of his relations, and so I have been alone since–reading, and writing to you.
Letter No. 9.
_October 14th_.–I sent my last letter to you on Sunday, and on Monday morning Mr. Childs called and brought me a note from Mrs. Childs saying she was very unwell and her doctor said she must be quiet, and would we defer our visit till Wednesday? I declined this at once, and Mr. Childs seemed very sorry, but when Dick joined us he said we were in no great hurry to leave Philadelphia and might as well stay, so I could only agree to remain till Thursday. He gave us seats at the Theatre to hear “May Blossom” (a pretty _good_ play, which we all enjoyed), and he asked me if I wanted any books to read? I said “Yes, I should be very glad of some,” thinking he would lend me a few of his own; well, a large parcel soon arrived with a lovely copy of Longfellow’s Poems and my name in it, and lots of story books, all new. This morning (Tuesday) our future host at New Brunswick called, a nice-looking, lively man, and we go to them on Thursday–Mr. James Neilson. Yesterday afternoon we spent two hours at Mrs. A. B—‘s, and met Mr. Keally. He is a curious person, and looks full of _fire_, and I should say _not_ an impostor, but I should not be surprised if he was _mad!_ He talked away tremendously quickly, and used all kinds of new words invented to suit his discovery, and I got quite exhausted trying to understand him; all I could really make out was that he professed to have decomposed _hydrogen_, and evolved a lighter element from it, and that his new force has something to do with _vibration_; that he multiplies vibrations almost infinitely, and can distinguish _divisions_ of _tones_ in an unusual manner. Those who have seen his experiments lately, declare that _no_ force with which scientists are acquainted could produce the same effects with the machinery used. “If it is a trick,” he said, “at any rate it is a trick worth knowing–if a pint of water can send a train from this to New York, which it will do shortly.” He employs several people to make his machinery, but when they have made it and used it successfully, they declare they don’t know _why_ or _how_ it is done. I am trying to persuade John to stop here on Friday on his way from Baltimore and see one of his experiments. I have heard John say that he expected some great discovery would be made shortly, and in the _chemical_ direction. Mr. Keally is a mechanist, and says he discovered this force by accident. It is curiously like the one in Bulwer’s novel, which everyone was possessed of and could destroy anything in a moment. Mrs. A. B— is going to take us a drive this afternoon. At present my letters to Newport have only produced an invitation to dine with Mrs. Belmont on Saturday, which we are unable to accept. Hedley enjoyed his Sunday outing with Mr. Rosengarten, and was introduced to heaps of people, and felt quite an important person. He is always much liked, and _I_ am not surprised.
_Wednesday, 15th_.–At two o’clock we met Mr. Childs at the station, and went with him to Bryan Maur by rail, and then his carriage met us and took us to his farm and stables, &c., and then to his house; it is all very new and very tidy and pretty. He told his wife to buy any land she liked four years ago, and build anything she liked on it, and now he has paid the bills and handed her the deeds, and it is all her own. That’s the way husbands do things in America! The wives and children have a good time here, and the working classes, too, have many privileges, or perhaps, I should say, that they _share_ them with the richer and more educated people; everywhere, in the trains and trams and restaurants of stations and waiting rooms there is _equality_, and considering all things one does not suffer much by the mixture excepting that they “_level down_,” and one misses the comforts and _quiet_ of the English railroads. Some of the working men are remarkably fine and intelligent looking, and always quiet and well behaved. I do not observe any very great politeness to women, which I was led to expect was the prevailing habit in the United States, but I notice that the fathers are wonderfully gentle and helpful with the children. Mrs. Childs is a bright little woman, and sings well, which you would scarcely expect when hearing her voice in speaking. It is a pity that so many of the women have such unpleasant voices, and the _men_ have generally nothing harsh in their tones. A captain of one of the Cunard steamers sat next me, and seeing my distress over a plateful of very large oysters, whispered, “you need not eat them.” We had carefully abstained from luncheon, as dinner was at four o’clock, and this was the menu for dinner: soup, _big_ oysters, boiled cod, then devilled crab (which I ate, and it was very good), then very tough stewed beef-steak, large _blocks_ of ice-cream, and peaches, and that was all! So my dinner consisted of crab, and I was obliged to have something to eat on our return to the hotel. Mr. Childs is very rich, and gives away immensely. He showed me a valuable collection of autographs, &c., given him by Mrs. S. C. Hall, whose husband, now an old man I believe, he partly supports. We left at half-past eight, and this morning, _Thursday, 16th_, Mr. Childs called early with his picture, framed, as a present. Sir William and Lady Thomson, and probably John and E—, are going to the Childs’ on Saturday till Monday, and Mrs. B. M—, who called, is very anxious that they should see the Keally experiments. I hear John and E— are going to Boston. _We_ are starting this afternoon for Woodlawn, New Brunswick, the Neilsons’ place, and to-day I have, an invitation from Mrs. Pruyn of Albany. We are about to take our berths on board the Cunard steamer _Oregon_, which starts on 12th November. I had a great pleasure this morning in receiving from Clara a large photograph of _you_ and Arthur Paley. It is very nice, and I am very glad she arranged so cleverly for you to be taken! You don’t look quite so miserable and cross, as is your _wont_ in general when being photographed. Clara and S— were at a large evening party lately at Euston, where they met the Princess Frederica of Hanover, whom I have met several times at dear Katty Mande’s, and she inquired about us from Clara.
_Woodlawn, New Brunswick, October 20th_.–We arrived here Thursday. Mrs. M— called and kindly took me to the station, and presented me with some beautiful roses, which I brought here unpacked and gave to Mr. Neilson. Major R. S— spoke to me again at the hotel about the Keally motor, and fervently repeated that after a thorough inspection of the machinery he is convinced that a new force is at work. Mr. Neilson and his carriage met us at the station. He is very lively and full of information, having travelled a great deal, and overflowing with “_go_.” She is very handsome and nice, and nothing can be kinder than they are. It is a pretty cottage, close to his mother’s house, and with some grounds round them.
_Friday, 17th_.–We took a long drive, Mr. Neilson driving at a rapid pace, and the river and foliage was pretty, but the scenery here is not remarkable, and the town of New Brunswick does not look _rich_, or flourishing. In the evening we went to his mother’s, had tea, oysters and birds, and then a number of people came; Dr. and Mrs. Cook, Professor of Chemistry, and Mr. and Mrs. and Miss Warren, several Carpenters, who are cousins of the Neilsons, Admiral and Mrs. Admiral Boggs, Dr. and Mrs. Hart. He is a Dutch clergyman of the Dutch church here, and has been at John’s laboratory at Cambridge, and talked about him and his work. I observe the gentlemen stand talking to _each other_ a good deal as we do in England. Mrs. Neilson _mere_ is a very nice old lady, with white hair, and something like you. She spoke about my brother Hedley, and tears came into her eyes as we talked; everyone here seems to have read his memoirs, and I enclose a scrap out of the New Brunswick paper, which will show you how he is remembered. Mrs. T. Neilson seems a capital housekeeper, and the cooking and everything seems so good and comfortable. Mr. Neilson owns most of the town, and is delighted when he can _sell_ some of it, and the neighbours are nearly all his cousins. He says the municipal government of the town, &c., is at a _dead lock_. Nothing can be done to the _roads_, (which are disgraceful!) or the streets, which are dreadful _everywhere_ nearly, that there is perpetual bribery and corruption, and all owing to universal suffrage, which makes the respectable people quite helpless! This is the view of all the people I stayed with or spoke to. On _Saturday, 18th_, we made a long excursion to Long Branch, going by train to Redbank, a pretty village, where we got a carriage and drove to Long Branch, a favourite watering place of this part of the country and New York; miles upon miles of the sea coast is covered with houses, small and large, in every variety of style, with no trees and quite flat, with a fine sea beyond the sands. It looked like a scene on a _stage_! We passed some very pretty bays and creeks, but though the day was bright, the wind blew a gale, and we could not sit about. We lunched at the railway station, with our driver sitting at the next table. It is so funny to find everyone at your elbow, whatever their position may be, but I must say they behave very well. We returned by train, and I managed to catch a chill, and have been in bed most of the morning. The day was so lovely that Mr. Neilson persuaded me to drive with him in his _buggy_, a very comfortable carriage like a tea cart, and I enjoyed the sweet _Indian summer_ and the pretty foliage with peeps of the river. In the afternoon I went with Mr. Neilson to call on his mother and Mrs. Carpenter, both fine old ladies, and as I said before, _old_ and young women are well taken care of here.
_October 22nd_.–Hotel Brunswick, Boston. We left the kind Neilsons yesterday, and as Dick and I were not well, we took drawing-room car seats, which, however, were extremely uncomfortable wicker chairs, which turned round on a pivot with the least movement and made one feel sick! So I sat on a hard bench usually occupied by conductors. This is a fine hotel, and John and E— came to see me last night after I was in bed; they seem enjoying themselves and are gay, seeing lots of scientific folk at Baltimore and _here_ at _Cambridge_. They intend starting home on the 1st. We are arranging for berths in the “Oregon,” on the 12th, Last night I was surprised to get a letter from Liza, which had been sent to Evelyn, dated October 5th, telling me that No. 90, O— G— was let to Mr. Scott Holland till 8th December! I suppose some letter from Liza has been lost, for I have never heard a word of it before. The road yesterday was very pretty, crossing two or three rivers with beautiful colored foliage on their banks, and some fine towns. I enjoy scenery more and more as I get older, and feel more _one_ with Nature, and Nature’s God; the sense of the _Eternal_ and _Infinite_ deepens in my heart, and the grandeur of sky and mountain and river _with God over all_ fills me with calm and peace. I am not at all well just now, and have to _starve_ nearly. It is difficult at hotels to get the right kind of food when one is out of sorts.
DISTINGUISHED PEOPLE IN TOWN.
_To the Editor of the “Home News”.–_
It may be of some interest to your readers to know that we have at present in our midst some distinguished people. Not indeed because they happen to be people of high rank in their own country, but because they represent names standing preeminent in the fields of science on the one side of their house, and on the other a name cherished in every household as the very embodiment of Christian chivalry, that of a veritable soldier of the cross.
The Dowager Lady Rayleigh (mother of Lord Rayleigh, the President of the British Association), is at present the guest of Mr. and Mrs. James Neilson, at their residence, Woodlawn. She is accompanied by her two sons, the Honorables Richard and Hedley Stratt. The former is married to a daughter of Lord Bragbrook, a member of the Cornwallis family. The Dowager Baroness is a sister of Hedley Vicars, the soldier-missionary of the Crimea, a name as well known and honoured in the households of America as those of Great Britain.
The party came out to attend the Scientific Convention of Canada, and have since travelled largely through the great West. They express themselves enthusiastically as to our progress, material as well as intellectual.
We take the occasion to congratulate our English cousins upon the phenomenally fine season which they have selected, and trust that they may remain long enough to enjoy the loveliness of our American autumn and Indian summer.–_The Brunswick Daily Home News, Thursday, October 16th, 1884._
LETTER No. 10.
_October 25th, Newport, at “Madame Robertson’s.”_
Hedley and I and Gibson came here on Thursday, just to see the place, of which I had heard so much, and to acknowledge the offered civilities of some of the people there. We left Dick at Boston not very well, and indeed, _I_ have been quite a wretch lately. Wednesday morning, E— brought Professor Pickering, and he asked us to join John and E— at his Observatory, and at a party given afterwards by Mrs. Pickering, so at 3.30 we set off all in a tram, and Professor Pickering met us about a mile from the house, and a carriage took us to the Observatory, where we saw curious things, and above all, the crescent moon, through a powerful telescope, which, oddly enough, I had never seen before. Mrs. Pickering had a large gathering, and I was introduced to quantities of people, some very nice looking and English in tone and manner. In this part of America one would scarcely know that you were not living among the present generation of English transported across the Atlantic quite recently; the manners of the _coloured_ servants are _very_ objectionable, and the porters of the cars quite odious; they march up and down, even in the more select Pulman cars, slam the doors, awakening one out of a much needed doze, and throw themselves down on the chairs and pick their teeth! “Dressed in a little brief authority, they strut before High Heaven,” and make one wish they had never been _evolved_ but remained altogether _apes_. The _waiters_ at hotels are often pleasant enough, but the dislike of the white Americans to domestic service has given a monopoly of this employment to the coloured people, (shared in many parts by the Irish), and they give themselves airs accordingly. Dr. Wendel Holmes, of literary celebrity, was at the Pickerings, and I had a short talk with him, but as every minute some new introduction came off, I could never have a pleasant chat with any one. Mrs. Horsford, who was giving a large evening party, asked us to go there, and the Pickerings wanted me to stay with them till the time arrived, but I was not equal to this exertion, and we three returned in trams, which ought to be called _crams_, for they are invariably in that condition. I was also asked to join John and E— with a party going to a place called Beverly, but I decided to come here, as people were expecting us, and we arrived about ten minutes to three, and I found cards and notes, asking me to lunch and dine, and drive, and my landlady said the bell had been ringing all the morning, and the whole place was in excitement about our coming and its frequent delays! I got a carriage (it was too late to lunch out or drive), and left some cards and notes of explanation, and as we were leaving one at Mrs. Belmont’s, she drove up in a well appointed drag, so we got out, and I found her a fair and light little person, very nice, and wonderfully young looking. She then drove us in her beautiful park phaton to Mrs. Bruen’s, where there was an afternoon party for my benefit–such a charming old lady! I told her I had a mother of eighty-one, and she said “Oh I am more than _that_, but no one knows my age, and I don’t think about it, but am ready when the call comes.” I have heard since, she is past ninety! She is small and thin, full of life and interest in everything, and her brains as active as ever,–seems to have known every one of interest. I went there again to tea-dinner last evening, and we talked about everything and everybody under Heaven nearly! Her clever daughter and very pretty grand-daughter, Miss Perkins, have read widely, and our subjects of discussion were endless. Of course at the afternoon party there were numbers of people, and they told me they were quite delighted at my arrival, for the place was very dull now, and it was quite an excitement! Last evening a Professor Shields was at Mrs. Bruen’s, and gave me his book on “Science and Faith.” I have had three invitations to dine _to-day_, which, of course I had to decline. To go on with yesterday’s journal, we lunched with a Mrs. Bell, and met there Miss Perkins and another nice young lady, and a queer specimen, a Mr. W—, who travels about the Continent with eight children, and aggravated me by saying he was more at home in France than in England. We had several made up dishes, chiefly fish, but little I could eat! Three children came down afterwards and were made very much of, as usual; then Mrs. Belmont called for us in her barouche, and took us a delightful drive by the sea, but it was very cold, and as I had not brought my only warm wrap to Newport, I borrowed a seal skin jacket from Mrs. Bell; I find I have only brought _one_ gown that I could have well done without, but I should be glad of two or three more things.
This place is something like _Ryde_, with numbers of villas, which in summer weather have beautiful lawns and gardens, and are filled with all the smart people from New York and Boston, &c.; in the season, they say it is wonderfully pretty and gay, and the few people remaining are so sorry I did not see Newport in all its glory, but I can guess what it would be, and I should dislike the kind of life they lead and the intense frivolity and absence of any kind of occupation, excepting dressing and flirtation! I think the _cream_ had been left behind. This morning Professor Shields took us a drive to the two _Beaches_, two little bays with bathing sands, and then we drove to Miss Mason, who lives in a very pretty villa with her sister, and is very rich, and we all walked together to the _Cliff_, where there is a fashionable promenade, with rocks and sea on one side and green turf and the villas with their gardens all open on the other. If any one has a pretty house or place here it is all exposed to the public gaze, and even _use_, a great deal! We then drove to Mrs. Bruen’s, where Hedley and I lunched. I am surprised to find how _fresh_ the memory of my brother Hedley still remains in the minds of people, who I thought would have been too young to have heard of him at the time of his death, or too old to remember now what they had heard and read. Miss Mason and her friend spoke about him with such real feeling, and said they had been _brought up_ on his “memoirs.” Mrs. Bruen and her family, and Professor Shields and many others speak to me as if I was quite a _friend_, because of my relationship to Hedley! Isn’t this curious after thirty years? They all asked about _Lucy_, and were so romantic as to be rather distressed that she had ever married; but I told them what a good man her husband was, and that she was so active and useful, and that it would have been a great pity if she had been _lost_ as a wife and mother, &c. Mrs. Bruen, among other things, spoke of spiritualism, and said she knew from personal experience there was much truth in it. A relation and intimate friend was a powerful medium, and many extraordinary things, such as moving of furniture, (heavy chairs and tables, &c.) and raps, &c., took place under circumstances which made imposition impossible, there being frequently no one present but Mrs. Bruen and her two daughters and this lady medium. A table at the _end_ of the room would suddenly tilt up and rap. A large dining room table would tilt up, while all the things arranged for dinner on it would remain immovable–the lady not touching it. They all seemed to think that spiritualism had a bad influence, and Mrs. Bruen thinks _bad_ spirits are at work. She is a wonderful old lady, past ninety, but full of energy and interest, moving large trees and making alterations constantly in her house and garden. She kissed me at parting, and I said “I shall tell my mother what a charming old lady you are,” and she said, “give her my kind regards, and tell her how glad I was to see you.” Well, at last with many hand-shakes and all talking at once, we parted, and I met Gibson at the station, and we returned to Boston yesterday, October 25th. I am now writing to you on Sunday from the Hotel Brunswick. Last evening Dick was out when we arrived, with Evelyn at a concert, for which I had tickets, but I was too tired to go; this morning we went to hear Dr. P. Brooks, the great preacher who everyone was raving about last spring in London, (or was it _last_ year?) his church is like a great _temple_, or public hall, and cost [pound symbol]180,000. Mr. Winthrop gave us his pew, so we were well placed, and as he is _very_ rapid and not very loud, the strain to hear his discourse would have been very great if we had not been near. “In such an hour as ye think not, the Son of Man cometh.” Christ comes to us in many ways, and through the long ages of the Old Testament and Christian dispensations he has been continually _shewing_ Himself,–all great events and promises have partial fulfilments,–little _milleniums_ have taken pace, and heavenly Jerusalems have been raised in many a church, in many a gathering of God’s people,–all foreshadowing the _Great Event_ which, will bring God to man. Then he went on about a _King Idea_, the ruling object in every profession, in every life; how the _best_ of _that_ idea,–justice in a lawyer, holiness in a clergyman, and so on,–was brought home and revealed at times with great power. The reformations and revivals in the world are the _coming_ in this sense. He spoke of _unconscious_ love and devotion: that many a person thinks because they cannot always _feel_ Christ present and cannot consciously recognize that they act for _Him_ in their daily life, that they do not love or serve Him; they have given _themselves_ to Him, but it seems as if He was forgotten while their daily work and employments _press Him out_. All the time, as with earthly love and care, the _heart_ is full of Him, and every now and then strong religious exercises or unusual events excite the mind; He _comes_ to it in full power, and then they recognize their Lord. Some of the sermon struck me as too _abstract_, but it was very suggestive; the music, too, was beautiful. He is a large stout man with fine well-cut features and beautiful expression. Coming out we met John and E— and the Pickerings, who had been elsewhere. I think they are both tired of America, at least E— is, and John wants to get to his work! I am not tired of Americans, but I could not _live_ in this country; the system political is to me odious, much of the social system ditto; and the society is so disunited, so patchy, so apparently without bonds of union or common interests, the life they lead so dull and without the charms of society at home, and yet there are many as nice and clever and good as we can find anywhere. I dare say the missionary and charitable organizations, and educational institutions, &c., give some interest and occupation to the energetic and pious ones, but there cannot be much of what _we_ call _parish_ work, or care of the poor, though there are plenty of poor in the large cities, and much distress as in older countries. Mrs. Bruen gave me Lowell’s discourse on “The Democracy,” which he delivered lately in Birmingham, and asked me for my candid opinion, without regard to _her_ politics. So I said, “candid I shall be, and first of all being devoted to my country’s old constitution, the democracy has to me a very unpleasant sound; by that I mean the Government of the many and from _below_, and _that_ form of Government to me is highly objectionable. I think with Carlyle, that God meant the rulers of the world to be those men best fitted by their education and occupations and experiences to cope with the immense difficulties which encompass good government. So you see, I can’t agree with much Lowell says, but some things are very good and I have ventured to mark them,” upon which she handed the paper to Professor Shields, and told him to read it, and tell her what I had marked at a future time, as she wanted to go on talking! I found Professor Shields quite agreed with me when discussing the matter next day, but he said, “_we_ can’t help ourselves now, take care _you_ don’t get into the same difficulties.” Mrs. Bruen made me give a resume of all the reasons why the Lords opposed the passing of the Franchise Bill until the Redistribution Bill appeared. I must stop. We have been to hear Dr. Brooks again, this time _un_-written and not so interesting.
_Monday, 27th_.–After writing the foregoing yesterday, we went to dine, and then John called and spent nearly two hours chatting. _They_ had been to lunch at the Lowell’s (relations of the Minister in England), and leave to-day at one o’clock for New York, and on the first start in the _Germanica_ for England. I think we are all glad we are _not_ going to Japan, &c., as I have just written to Mrs. Neilson, “the old country suits my aged inside the best.” I told her I thought the people about New Brunswick and Boston were especially delightful. “After this,” I added, “you will, perhaps, think me impertinent if I say they seem to me so English! but after all, you came from us, and it only shows you have kept the stock pure, while we have in many cases adopted a spurious Americanism in our ways and speech.” Since I wrote this, Mrs. Perkins, a married daughter of dear Mrs. Bruen, and a masterful kind of person, has called on me, and upon my making some such remark as the foregoing, she exclaimed, “I don’t like _that_ at all! Before the war we used to like being taken for English, but now we _don’t_,–How would _you_ like to be taken for an American?” “Well,” I replied, “we don’t speak of the _mother_ being like the _child_; whether you like it or not you _are_ English by descent, and are our cousins at _least_.” Dick asked her afterwards, “What do you wish to be thought?” “An American, of course.” “Please tell me then how you describe an _American_?” We could not get her to do so; in fact, nothing pleases the _set-up_ creatures, for if we judge of them by the Western or Southern, or even Central Americans, they exclaim at our injustice, and if we judge by these New England States, they are indignant at being thought English! This, I believe, is only a _pretence_, however, and that in their _hearts_ they are fond of England, and justly proud of the relationship and likeness. Certainly the New Englanders are conceited and _bumptious_, and in this also they keep up their British characteristics. They want to lose their State distinctions (which their patriot Washington was so anxious to guard), and become _one_ great nation, centralizing everything, which, indeed, seems the rage everywhere. The Democrats are more conservative and _really_ liberal, and I trust Cleveland will get elected as President, for there are many independent Republicans (_Bolters_, they call them,) who will vote for him, knowing that Blaine would be a disgrace to their country; he is a plausible rogue, and respectable people of all opinions almost acknowledge it. Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop called (I have a nice sitting-room now), and we are to drive there and lunch with them to-morrow. Mrs. Lowell also called, and gave us the _Republican_ view of things, being a strong Anti-Democrat; told us that the Southerners, by arguments of personal _fear_, made the negroes vote against the Republicans, who they would otherwise support, according to her story. So much, if true, for the freedom of American voters! Speaking of sea sickness when crossing the Atlantic, she said that like (someone else) she thought she should die the first day, and was afraid she should_n’t_ the second day. Mr. Baillie Hamilton spoke to us at luncheon to-day; he has invented a new kind of organ, and is perfecting it here, and hopes to make it a good commercial business in New York, and then go home and marry Lady Evelyn Campbell. We liked him very much, and wish him all success. Mr. Perkins called, and we all went to the Archaeological Museum, which is an entertainment I am unworthy of, as I don’t understand Art, china, or lace, or embroidery, or statuary, and only know what I _like_; but Mr. Perkins wasted a great deal of valuable information upon me. After this, we all walked to the common with Mr. Hamilton; he told us that he had worked for months in a factory at Worcester, near this, in his _shirt sleeves_, no man knowing him, and he thinks highly of the American workmen in these parts. They are kind and noble under their too independent and rough exterior, and that is my own impression; but still I detest the system which has taught them that respect and politeness are servile and unmanly, and that domestic service is a disgrace. I had the pleasure of receiving your letter of 15th October this morning, and am so glad you can use your hand more. I don’t think _any_ of your letters are missing, but, _without conceit_, mine are of more value, as those to you are my only journal, and I should forget so many things if I had not these letters to refer to on returning home. Now I must finish this. Mr. Hamilton is talking while I am writing, and we shall see him at New York on the 3rd, Hotel Brunswick. You will probably only have one more letter from America. I am better, but still rather queer.
Letter No. 11.
_Wednesday, October 29th, Brunswick Hotel, Boston._
I sent you a letter on Monday, and I will now begin another, which may be the last from these shores. On Tuesday, Mrs. Pickering, the wife of the astronomer at Cambridge, called early “to be of use,” but I was engaged to lunch out with the Winthrops, so we arranged to meet to-day. Dick went to play the organ at Advent Church, and was delighted with it, full of ingenious mechanism. At half-past twelve Hedley and I met him at the station, and Mr. Perkins met us, and we found Mrs. Winthrop’s carriage at Brooktines. Mr. Perkins is a very accomplished man, lived a long time in Germany to study music, and in Italy to study Art generally. He looks very like Mr. Henry Sidgwick, and you would never guess he was an American. The drive through Brooklines was very pretty; we saw three large trees of a pure gold colour on the greenest turf in one place, which had a lovely effect. The Winthrop’s house is not furnished with aesthetic taste, but there were some good pictures. Mr. Winthrop has been married three times, and the present wife was married before, so there is rather a confusion of families. _Her_ daughter only lives with them, and is affected with a sort of St. Vitus’s dance, which made it rather trying for Hedley to take her in to luncheon; but I never saw anyone who seemed less self-conscious or more at her ease than this poor girl, and her mother is devoted to her, and shewed us her picture in great triumph. We had Mr. Packman, the historian of Canada, at luncheon, and Mr. Richardson, a celebrated architect, formerly a slave owner in the Southern States, who liberated his slaves before the war, but was a “rebel,” and lost his all, and had to work for his living. Mr. Packman said he thought Canada was improving wonderfully, but (as the English when we were there had told us), the French element multiplies with extraordinary rapidity, and they are a compact body under the control of their priests, and so carry all political questions their own way; consequently, but little progress is made in the province of Quebec. Mr. Packman is a Republican, but is going to vote for the Democratic candidate, Mr. Cleveland, because he believes him to be an honest man, and that Blaine would bring the country into difficulties. I wish some of _our_ Republicans would come _here_ and learn a lesson of conscientious independence! There were some ladies besides, but I did not make out their names. At last luncheon was ready, and such a nasty luncheon! Great oysters, and raw beef, and dried-up partridges, and the never failing blocks of ice-cream, which _sounds_ very nice, but one gets tired of it, especially when it makes one ill! However, the _mental_ food was very good, and Mr. Winthrop, who knows everyone, spoke to me of Gladstone. He thinks he “is a man of many words; he knows something of everything, and a good deal of some things,” but on the whole he evidently does _not_ trust his statemanship. He knew the late Lord Lytton and his wife, and met her after their quarrel at Roger’s, the poet, and thought her a very fine clever woman, with charms of manner. Lord Lytton he thought very unpleasant; very deaf, and sensitive about it, and would not use his trumpet. Macaulay was very _ponderous_, and had a _Niagara_ flow of language. He always engrossed all conversation, and one got tired of listening. Mr. Winthrop greatly enjoyed the coming of age of Lord Cranbourne, at Hatfield, to which he was invited, and he thinks Lord Salisbury’s speaking more interesting than Gladstone’s,–that the House of Lords might make some compromise about the Redistribution Bill, and that it would be an immense pity for England to lose the three estates of the realm, and the Established church. “We don’t want you to become a Republic, but keep up the standard of good government for the rest of the world.” Afterwards we went to Mr. Augustus Lowell’s, and there we found all vehement for _Blaine_! I did not agree with their arguments, but listened to all very meekly and attentively! They also urged us, as every one else, _not_ to give in to the idea of universal suffrage, which is the _bane_, they say, of politics in this country, and causes all their difficulties. After tea we drove home five miles in Mr. Winthrop’s carriage; I like her very much, and she has more _softness_ of manner, being a Southerner, than the Americans sometimes have. Wednesday we met Mrs. Pickering at the station, and after a short railway journey, drove to the beautiful grounds of _Wellesley College_, founded by a rich American, Mr. Durrant, for girls over sixteen. Three separate buildings, and a pretty lake, and a very interesting President, Miss Freeman, about thirty. After seeing the perfect and numerous arrangements made for the education of the young women, chemistry-rooms, libraries, statuary, &c., &c., and making acquaintance with some of the lady professors, we had luncheon with hundreds of girls; some of these pay less, (the regular payment is forty-five dollars or pounds, I forget which, a year), and have some light work to do, _wait_ on us, &c. I can’t say the luncheon was good! the beef hard, and I had only bread and jam! I thought “unless they have a really good breakfast and dinner, these young women will not be able to bear the strain on their mental and bodily powers.” After this innocent meal, six young girls, dressed in blue serge and white costumes, with hats of the shape of undergraduate’s, rowed us in two boats, one painted blue with light oars, the other white, and the girls rowing it also in white costumes; our blue captain was a very pretty bright girl, just the type one reads of in novels as the American girl, (but not a _lady_ in the American view, or our own,) and she chatted away, and led the others in some pretty songs, while they rested on their oars, and then we were obliged to hurry away. One of the professors told me now clever the _captain_ was, and another asked me to send six copies of Hedley’s Memoirs for the Sunday Lending Library here, with my name, “which they should value so much.” We returned to Cambridge, and kind Mrs. Pickering, who is very good looking and energetic, took us to Harvard College, and we saw the Memorial Hall, and interesting Gymnasium, where the young men were practising all kinds of wonderful exercises. We got home very tired, and at seven o’clock dined with Mr. and Mrs. Perkins. Mrs. Perkins, like her mother, Mrs. Bruen, has had great experiences in Spiritualism, and believes it is _not good_.
_Thursday, 30th_.–At Mrs. Pruyn’s, _Albany_.–We left Boston about eleven o’clock, and found her carriage and cart waiting for us at station, and received a most kind welcome. She is a rather stout woman, of about forty, who has been very pretty, and has two daughters of sixteen and eleven, and a stepson who is very delicate. Mrs. Pruyn is very rich, (everything having been left to her as usual here), and the house is filled with beautiful gold and silver-plate, and china and books, and curiosities of all sorts. She seems very energetic and good in all relations of life. Some people dined,–her father, Judge Parker, Mr. and Mrs. Kidd, Mr. Ledgard, of old Dutch extraction, which is very common here and in the States generally, and lives in the country _Canzenovia_, on the shores of a lake. His family have been there for generations.
_Friday, 31st_.–We all went to see the Capitol, an enormous and handsome building not yet completed, but what I cared for much more, we saw the President, or rather I should say, the _candidate_, Governor Cleveland. He talked with us some minutes, and seemed a simple, honest kind of man, without vulgarity, but not of society manners or attractiveness. I wished him success, for which he thanked me cordially. The poor man is hunted to death by men and meetings of all sorts. So we did not stay long. I caught cold in this hot place, (they do burn such fearful _furnaces_ in the houses here), and I could not go out again.
_Saturday_.–Remained in bed till four o’clock to-day, and then got up to tea, Mrs. Pruyn’s sister, Mrs. Corney, such a nice cheerful woman, with a face something like Lisa’s, and Mrs. Evans, with a handsome niece, came to lunch yesterday, Miss Pruyn drove Hedley in a nice pony carriage. At dinner we had General and Mrs. Mirvan, another sister, and Dr. Holms, Librarian in the Capitol. This afternoon two presents of flowers came for me; they all went to church in the morning, being All Saints’ day. The Evans asked us all to dine, but Mrs. Pruyn had company at home. Mr. Palmer, son of the man who sculptured “Faith,” so often photographed, and the clergyman of St. Peter’s, Dr. Battershall, who was very pleasant, and talked nicely of Mr. Rainsford, son of Mr. Rainsford of Halkin street, who has done wonders in New York, at St. George’s. The American religious people are far less narrow minded and censorious than _we_ are; one sect or party _can_ see that a great deal of good and successful work is done by another! Mrs. Pruyn is decidedly ritualistic, but she is quite sorry I shall not be here next week, to hear Moody and Sankey, who are to hold meetings. A Miss Lansing dined here, and seems a very touchy American-loving person, and snubbed the boys if they hinted anything here was not perfection.
_Sunday, 2nd_.–Heard a good sermon from Dr. Battershall, at St. Peter’s, on “Seeing _Him_ who is invisible,”–the Apostle’s definition of _faith_. We remained to Holy Communion. He is evidently fond of ritual, but there was nothing really objectionable. In the evening we all went to Judge Parker’s, and Mrs. Parker, who had not left her room for some weeks, came down to see me, and is a very nice old lady; all the daughters and their husbands, and the widower son, came to heavy tea, a regular custom in the family–then Dick played, and we sung hymns.
_Monday, 3rd_.–Had a delightful drive with Mrs. Pruyn in the morning, violet mountains (the Caltgills) in the distance, with brilliant foreground of autumn tinted trees, and golden fields, and a bright sun shining on all, made a pretty picture; the streets and roads here are very bad, as generally in America; really one drives over _boulders_ of stone in some of the streets here, and they say, “it can’t be helped, the municipal corporation have it in their own hands.” Our kind hostess has given me a pretty dusting brush and a book, &c., and is going to send me a box of biscuits I liked, for the voyage home. Mrs. Pickering has sent me a pretty little case, with my initials on it. We left Albany at twenty minutes to three, and much enjoyed the scenery on the banks of the Hudson _en route_ to New York, but it got dark before we came to the prettiest part, and we did not get settled in this Hotel Brunswick till past eight o’clock.
_Tuesday, 4th_.–After a better night I awoke, feeling less uncomfortable, but I have not been at all well lately, and I suppose that what I want is _rest_ and a different diet. I found dear Mary’s letter, and one from Clara. I shall not hear any more, I suppose, now, till I meet Edward, &c., at Ampton Hall, on the 20th inst. We all agree our hearts are “homeward bound” now, and the dear old Grandie will, please God, welcome us back in health and peace. I have had lots of visitors this morning and afternoon. To-night we dine with my Philadelphia friend, Mrs. B. Moore.
_Later_.–We met Monseigneur Capel at dinner, and Major Recard Seaver, and a Miss Hooker. Crowds all about the hotel (Fifth Avenue); electoral returns put up in front of an electric light near it, and cheers as they appeared to favour one side or another from the dense crowd. Monseigneur Capel is handsome and agreeable, but he did not impress me _at all_ as a sincere or saintly person. We had to make our way home through a great crush, but there was nothing unpleasant. The Republicans have had it all their own way for more than twenty years, and have, of _course_, become tyrannical and corrupt, so no wonder the best of them support Cleveland, who is believed to be honest, and has proved himself capable and sensible as Governor of New York. The cheering and groaning went on all night, which was not conducive to sound slumber. They cheer and groan in _unison_, which has a curious effect.
Letter No. 12.
_November 7th, Brunswick Hotel, New York._
I am not sure whether I wrote up my journal to _this_ date, Wednesday, 5th. On that morning Hedley and I went by _elevated_ railway to get money from the bank, and pay for our passages in Cunard boat, the _Oregon_, on the 12th. After luncheon, Mrs. Belmont called and took Dick and me a drive in the park, and afterwards to Tiffany’s, the great place for jewellery and such things. Dick went then to hear Mr. Baillie Hamilton’s organ, and Hedley walked to the Millers, where Mrs. Belmont took us for an afternoon party they had got up for my benefit. They live in rather a nice flat, which was crowded with people, and where I got the most delicious chocolate and cream and biscuits! I was introduced to _everyone_, I think, and talked politics as much as I could with all the men in turn; even the Republicans strongly advise our retaining the House of Lords, and _not_ giving universal suffrage. There were some nice-looking well-dressed people at this party, and all so kind and anxious we should be pleased. I like the Americans! they are so good _au fond_, and the women are superior to the men of the younger generation. After dinner at the hotel, Hedley spied out Mr. Angus, our host at Montreal, and we had a long chat. The election is not yet decided, and the Democrats say that the others are likely to play tricks with the ballot boxes, and they have certainly delayed electoral returns; having command of ballot boxes, railways, and telegraphs, they can easily do this, and if people arrive at thinking, as some do at _home_, that a man’s conscience ought only to consider the importance of keeping _his party_ in power, and ignore every other consideration, why, what is to stop these kind of things? If a man’s conscience is not to _weigh down_ the advantages of gain to his _party_ in some matters, why in others?
_Thursday, 6th_.–We started as arranged at a quarter to nine to the Normal School for girls, richly endowed by some citizen, and entirely free. It was a good walk and we were not lucky in our trams, and so we arrived rather late at the large hall. Our friend General Wilson introduced me to the President, who placed me in his chair, and then I saw before me fifteen hundred young women. They got up singly and recited interesting quotations and sung, and then marched out to music in military order. We went to another hall, and saw them exercised, and they were healthy and graceful performances. These girls come at nine and stay till two, and are thoroughly well taught. Little ones, too, are instructed by the elder girls. It is a capital education for the future mothers and teachers. I suppose most of our girls go to service of that class! We then went to General Wilson’s, and breakfasted on soup, fish, venison steak, &c. A very agreeable lady, a Southerner, was there, and as General Wilson is a Republican, we argued, and he found all the party against his views, but he is used to being crushed, for his wife is a Democrat. He wanted us to go to see a famous library, but I was too tired, and when he and the boys returned we went home, and Mr. and Mrs. Neilson were waiting for us at the hotel. We then started for a very high building near the river, when we mounted in an elevator, and had a beautiful view of New York, and could see the splendid river and water-way in which it rejoices, but everything is spoilt in America for the sake of the _railways_, and steamers, and wharves, and you see no pretty houses near the river banks in the cities. Brooklyn Bridge is fine, and I half hoped to cross it and find out Dr. Penticost, but was _finished up_, and went home to rest. Then visitors came: Mrs. Gardener, daughter of Bishop Doane, of Albany, very nice; then we dined at the Belmont’s. The house is gorgeous in embroidery, and pictures, and statues, and all in very good taste, and more _comfortable_ than most of their fine houses. The dinner, too, was _very_ good, and I was the better for the excellent champagne. Mrs. Belmont is a wonderful little woman, with thick brown hair, and looking about forty, and I have seen people look as old at thirty. He is short and lame, and rather plain, but is clever and agreeable, and speaks with a strong foreign accent. Their son, Mr. Percy Belmont, has been elected three times for Congress. There was a southern lady there and her husband, Madame Hoffman, I think, and a Miss Wright. Madame Hoffman is very handsome and lively. The Belmonts apologized for a small party, because they are in mourning. They keep up mourning dress and customs tremendously long here. At first I thought there were a surprising number of widows going about, but I discovered they were mourning for their aunts or grandmothers.
The election was not settled till late last night, and they say the Republicans are still disputing the returns–and they feared riots in New York. I must say they seem wonderfully quiet, and I slept till half-past eight this morning, longer than for weeks past. To-day’s papers announce Lord Londonderry’s death and Mr. Fawcett’s. How many people one is interested in have died since we left England in August!
_Friday, 9th_.–Mr. Baillie Hamilton took Dick and me to, hear his organ “_vocalian_,” at a church, it was a _walk_ for me, and the wind was very cold and strong, church very hot, and so I caught cold. I should die of some lung complaint if I remained here long! We started for Long Island about three, crossing in a ferry and then by rail, and found on reaching the station that Mr. Jones and Miss Miller were unhappy about us, as they could not find us in the train. Carriages were waiting and we reached Unqua in twenty minutes. A good sized house (and my bedroom quite splendid) on a bit of grass land, with stumpy trees scattered anyhow, opposite and close to South Oyster Bay,–which is divided from the Atlantic by a narrow strip of sand, back premises in full view, with chickens and turkeys everywhere in full possession! _All_ the establishment awaited out arrival, I think, in the hall, including two smart waiters come for the auspicious occasion. Mrs. and Miss Jones (her sister), and a Miss Jones (niece) with her father who is a widower and lives there, and Col. Jones a grass widower whose wife lives in Paris. At dinner I appeared as smart as I could, and I think made a sensation, judging by the approving looks and smiles cast upon me! Nearly all the neighbours are Jones’s or Loyd Jones’s, and some of them dined.
_Saturday, 8th_.–I rested in my room till twelve, and then in a smart tea gown was _seated_ next Mrs. Jones on a sofa, and was introduced to each one as they shook hands with her and with me; they were nearly all strangers to me, but some sat for a few minutes on my other side and talked, and some asked us to go and see them, but I was obliged to decline all hospitalities, as we have no time for more. They were not particularly well dressed _generally_, nor was I struck by the beauty of the young women. Mrs. Belmont, who is a leader of fashion in New York, said, “I hope you won’t think this is the _best_ of New York society;” however, I know I have at different times seen the _best_, and there were many there who represented _la creme de la creme_. Sir Richard Temple was one of the very few English present, all were very kind and cordial, and I really felt quite an important _Personage!_ almost royalty! The luncheon was a terrific scramble, for waiting is so bad in America, and I got nothing to eat till very late, and my head ached horribly–after shaking hands with four hundred people (three hundred came by special train from New York), it was not much wonder, and I retired to lie down at half-past four, when they all had gone.
_Sunday 9th_.–I was in bed quite ill till past four, and then I came down and was petted and nursed. Dick went back yesterday afternoon, and the last we saw of him was hanging on to the back of one of the numerous carriages, which he caught just in time to reach the train. I could not go out to tea as arranged with some relations, but the others did excepting Mrs. and Miss Jones. At half-past seven we had supper altogether and champagne, &c. Nothing could be kinder than everyone.
_Monday, 10th_.–At two, after luncheon, they sent us to the station (Mr. Jones, such a good nice man, had gone early to New York), and Miss Miller accompanied us. On arriving at the hotel there was Mrs. Bidgelow, a very cordial lady who had invited us to West Point; she seized me and exclaimed, “I am so glad just to have caught you and seen you once more,” and she called me “dear,” sometimes, and begged she might kiss me at parting, and as she was nice looking I didn’t mind! That night being engaged to go with Mrs. Belmont to the opera, I felt, in spite of the risk, I must do it. So I went well wrapped up and sat behind in the beautiful large box, so that I could cough without at any rate being _seen_, and I hope did not much interfere with the enjoyment of _Patti_ by others, but for myself it was no enjoyment at all. There were smart and well-dressed people in the opera house, but _not up_ to _our_ upper “ten thousand” and they talked while Patti was singing in our box which was close to the stage.
_Tuesday_.–Mr. Cleland Burns of the Cunard Company, an old acquaintance, came to see me with many kind offers to arrange everything for my comfort, as he and his daughters were going in the _Oregon_, and also Mr. W. Cunard, and his son; a Mr. Morgan, a banker and friend of Mrs. Pruyn’s, has put off coming unfortunately, for from all accounts he is much to be liked; he called twice, and the second time I was able to see him. I remained quiet, but saw many visitors, and many I was obliged to decline seeing; the _sons_ both went out to dine.
_Wednesday, 12th_.–At half-past ten we started with baggage for ship, got all on board comfortably, found one lady in my cabin, and I spoke to Mr. Burns, who said he would arrange for me after we had started; lots of people came to see their friends off. Mr. Neilson, brought me some beautiful butter for the voyage! Mrs. Pruyn telegraphed and sent me the biscuits; Mr. Hall, a brother of Mrs. Edlmann, and Mr. Eyre, friends of Dick’s came, and Mr. Carpenter an acquaintance from New Brunswick, and Mr. Whitehouse, a literary acquaintance. At six o’clock we started in the fine ship _Oregon_, in which I am now writing. It was a lovely _Indian_ summer day, _clear_ as we rarely see it in our Islands, sun shining, and so we saw the splendid Bay of New York to great advantage, it seemed wonderful to us after our experience going to Quebec, to see how calm and blue the great Atlantic _could_ be. Mr. Burns put me into a cabin to myself near _them_, but unfortunately it was also very near the engines, and after two nights, I sneaked back to my own berth, and put up with a very quiet little lady in preference! Mr. Burns placed us at their table, and I have the benefit of his cheerful company and his lively daughters, as well as the champagne and good things he shares with us, and we are a very merry party, and enjoyed ourselves much, until Friday, when the weather changed. A Mr. Clinton, a fine looking man of six feet six inches, son of Lord Charles Clinton, a Mr. Dickson, a very gentlemanlike nice ex-guardsman, a Mr. and Mrs. Drake, who are very musical, and he plays the flute better than anyone I ever heard, all sat near us, but for two or three days we had the _old story_, and the waves beat and rolled us about, and the passengers disappeared like mice to their holes, and we could not go on deck.
LIST OF SALOON PASSENGERS PER R. M. S. “OREGON,” (CAPTAIN McMICKAN,) NEW YORK TO LIVERPOOL, Nov. 12TH, 1884
Miss Appleford
Mr. Julian B. Arnold
Mr. J. Fred Ackerman
Mr. Jose d’Aranjo
Mr. and Mrs. Edward Austin
Mr. Alex Aitchinson
Mr. C. D. Armstrong
Rev J. A. Anderson
Capt and Mrs. Bogle, six Children and two Servants Miss Bogle
Master Bogle
Miss Bodwell
Mr. C. Bayley
Mr. G. Bayley
Mr. Thos. A. Bell
Mr. J. N. Beach
Mr. Arthur A. Brigham
Hon. F. A. K. Bennett
Mr. S. A. Budgett
Mr. J. Cleland Burns
Miss Jean Burns
Miss Grace Burns, and Maid
Rev. Geo. A. Brown
Mr. B. Bonfort
Miss Martha Bonfort
Mr. J. Barnes
Rev. Edwin M. Bliss
Mr. F.D. Blakeslee
Mr. J. Lomas Bullock
Mr. W. Butterworth
Mrs. Mary B. Byrne
Mr. John Blair
Rev. John Boylan
Mr. J. Collins
Mr. Stanley Conner
Mr. Aug. T. Chur
Miss Cranston
Mr. and Mrs. Wm. M. Cranston
Mr. J. P. Croal
Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Russell Crampton Miss Florence A. Cordis
Miss Nellie R. Cordis
Mr. L. Crules
Mr. F. M. Crick
Mr. and Mrs. Woodie Cook, and Son
Mr. John Cholditch
Mr. Pelham Clinton
Mr. John L. Chapman
Mr. Alex. Campbell
Mr. Wm. Cunard
Mr. Ernst H. Cunard
Mr. Geo. Dixon
Mr. John Dixon
Mr. Frank S. Dougherty
Mr. Chas. Algernon Dougherty
Mr. and Mrs. C. A. Drake
Rev. and Mrs. W. E. Daniel
Miss Annie Davis
Mr. Walter Dickinson
Mr. Ed. M. Denny
Mr. Ed. Henry Denny
Mr. Chas. Edward Denny
Mr. J. H. Douglas-William
Mr. F. J. Douglas-William
Miss R. Emmett
Miss Emmett
Miss Lydia F. Emmett
Mr. and Mrs. Robert Easson, and two Children Mr. A. S. Emmet
Mr. Frank Evans
Miss Alice Foster
Miss Emma Foster
Mr. and Mrs. J. B. Fiddian
Rev. M. Flynn
Mr. Chandos-Pole-Gell
Mr. C. Gostenhofer
Mr. G. Greiner
Mr. R. Gebhardt
Rev. Miles Grant
Mr. and Mrs. C. W. Gordon, and two Children Mr. Francis Henry
Mrs. H. J. Hastings
Miss Hastings, and two Maids
Mr. Nigel F. Hatton
Mr. Michael Hughes
Rev. and Mrs. E. P. Hammond
Mr. F. Henriques
Mr. Clarence M. Hyde
Mr. Theodore Haviland
Mr. C. T. Hunter
Mr. F. W. Hutchins
Mr. Henry R. Hoyt
Mr. E. L. Hamilton
Mr. John Hall
Mr. W. Howden
Mr. W. E. Jarratt
Mr. Chas. Johnston
Mr. A. de Journel
Mr. T. O. Jones
Mme. Marie Joseph
Mme. Honorat
Mme. Helena
Miss Kenyon
Mr. Adolph Keitel
Mr. Richard Kibble
Mrs. Kidd
Miss Kidd
Miss B. Kidd
Master Kidd
Mr. Frank Kemp
Mr. and Mrs. A. Ladenborg
Dr. and Mrs. Landis
Mr. W. Liddell
Mr. A. Lindsey
Mr. Edmund Lees
Mr. John Lawrance
Mr. P. Lawrence
Mr. John Leach
Mr. E. Middleton
Dr. Wm. B. Meany
Mr. G. B. Mackintire
Mr. Archd. A. McDonald
Mr. Ch. Mordaunt
Mr. M. L. Marcus
Mr. and Mrs. W. T. Makellar
Mr. Herbert Mead
Mrs. L. Middleton
Mr. W. W. Marks
Mr. M. MacLehose
Mr. Paul Meischer
Mr. Alex. McEwen
Mias Mills
Mr. Robt. J. McClure
Sister Eliza Monica
Mr. Francis More
Mr. A. Bishop Mason
Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Nichols, and Child Mr. and Mrs. C. F. Noyes
Mr. Jeffreys Owen
Mr. and Mrs. Henry M. Peyser
Hon. F. Petre
Mr. Richd. C. Perkins
Miss Puleston
Mrs. C. B. Paulmier
Miss Nellie Paulmier
Miss Richardson and Maid
Mr. and Mrs. E. G. Rideoot and Maid Mr. and Mrs. J. M. Richardson, and Maid Lady Rayleigh, and Maid
Mr. J. E. Raymond
Mr. J. F. Raymond
Mr. Jno. F. Roy
Captain Hugh Rose
Mr. and Mrs. H. Skerrett Rogers
Mrs. Mary Elizabeth Riches
Miss Marion Riches
Mr. Champion B. Russell
Mr. W. Scott
Mr. Harmon Spruance
Mr. and Mrs. T. J. Schickle
Mr. Frank W. Stokes
Mr. C. F. Schmidt
Mr. Matthew Snoeck
Mr. Philip M. Smith
Mr. O. Streatfeild
Hon. Richd. Strutt
Hon. Hedley V. Strutt
Mr. G. S. Stephen
Rev. Geo. Mure Smith
Mr. I. L. Solomon
Mr. Frank Sartoris
Mr. E. W. Sawyer
Mrs. Trielhard
Mrs. Martin Thouron, and two Sons
Mr. H Trevenen
Mrs. Edwin F Taylor
Mr. Alfred R Tregellas
Mrs. L J Trowbridge
Mr. John A. Talk
Mr. A. Taylor
Mr. A. M Talbot
Mr. Jean Verga
Sister Mary Virginia
Mr. Chas E Willoughby
Mr. Geo Windeler
Miss Minnie Wilson
Miss Walls
Mr. Wm. Ward
Mr. O. M. Warren
Miss Adelaide Wilson
Mr. Thomas Webb
Mr. G. F. Watson
Mr. Gordon Wendell
Mr. A. H. Willey
Mr. A. Woodthorpe
Mr. A. J. Winn
Mr. and Mrs. T. H. Watress
Mr. W. A. Webber
Mr. W. D. Webb
Mrs. E. Wolfe, and Maid
Dr. Wm. N. Wilson
Mrs. Emily Woods
Mr. H. R. Williams
Mr. J. S. Wilson
This morning, _Tuesday, 18th_, I awoke after a very “dirty” night, to find the sun shining, and the sea comparatively calm. Last night we had a concert; on their requesting some American to lead off the “Star Spangled Banner,” a nice looking elderly man, whom we had called G. O. M., got up and said perhaps you may be surprised to hear that for one American who knows “Star Spangled Banner,” one hundred and fifty know “God Save the Queen,” upon which we cheered him, and stood up and _all_ lustily sang “God Save the Queen;” after this dissipation we added that of an oyster supper and _toddy_! thanks to Mr. Burns. Here is the Programme of our Concert:–
R.M.S. “OREGON,” (Capt. McMickan).
“OREGONIAN COMPANY”
A GRAND CONCERT WILL BE GIVEN TO-NIGHT, MONDAY, NOVEMBER 17th, 1884, IN AID OF THE LIVERPOOL SEAMEN’S ORPHANAGE. PATRONESS.–CLARA LADY RAYLEIGH. MANAGERS.–SIGNOR CUNARDO & SIGNOR BURNSEASI
PROGRAMME.
SONG …….. “Auld Robin Gray” Prima Donna DRAKE. SONG …… “For Ever and for Ever” … Mrs. E. WOLFE. SONG ………….. “Sailing” … Mr. C. E. WILLOUGHBY. SOLO FLUTE …………………………. Herr DRAKE. SONG ……………………………. Miss PULESTON. SONG …………………….. Mr. CHANDOS-POLE-GELL. SONG ……………………….. Mr. BRIGHTMAN, A.B. SONG (Flute Obligato, Herr Drake) . Prima Donna DRAKE. SONG …………………….. Mr. J. SWANSTON WILSON. STAR SPANGLED BANNER )
) ……………… The COMPANY. GOD SAVE THE QUEEN )
ACCOMPANIST ……….. HON. RICHARD STRUTT
AMERICAN MONEY WILL BE TAKEN.
CARRIAGES MAY BE ORDERED FOR 9.30 PM
My cabin is opposite Dick and Hedley’s, and the latter has great jokes about my treatment of my small lady companion! He says she is frightened to death of me, and is afraid to come into the cabin until I am safe in my berth! My love for the sea has received a severe check, though I think no other sea can be as bad and uninteresting as this tremendous Atlantic! I have not an idea where you are, but hope it is at Margaret’s, and I shall send this there, as the best chance of your receiving it soon. I shall post this at Queenstown, when Dick will also telegraph to Augusta at Ampton, and he has asked her to let you know of our safety a s far as that. The Americans have been singing in choruses while I have been writing, practising for a concert.
_Tuesday, 18th, eight o’clock p.m._–I hear we shall get to Queenstown to-morrow morning, about ten o’clock. I have a game of whist coming on, and there is to be an American concert, “Star Spangled Banner,” and all. Miss Puleston, who I have chaperoned in the _Oregon_ from New York, is to be left at Queenstown.
_Wednesday, 19th, Queenstown._–The coast has been so pretty, and, of course, quite smooth, compared to what we have been accustomed to of late. I got up early, and saw all the sacks of letters, six hundred, from all parts of the world, carried on men’s backs to the tugs on either side of the _Oregon_, and we parted with Miss Puleston and some others, and now I must stop as this is going to be posted. We expect to be at Liverpool some time to-night, and shall leave at once for Ampton, where I look forward to seeing so many of my dear ones. Dick and I agree that our happiest days have been the day we reached Quebec, and the day we left New York, both glorious in weather and scenery!
_Given by Mr. AUGUSTUS CHUR, American, of New York, of German descent, November 18th, 1884, on “Oregon”_
My country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing,
Land where my Fathers died.
Land of the Pilgrims’ pride,
From every mountain side
Let Freedom ring.
My native country thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love,
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills,
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above
Our Father, GOD, to Thee,
Author of Liberty,
Thy name we sing.
Long may our land be bright
With Freedom’s holy light,
Protect us by Thy might
Great God our King
_November 19th._–I posted my letter to you at Queenstown. We had a very pleasant day on deck, and while playing some innocent whist in the evening, Mr. Burns announced, “We have arrived at Liverpool!” It seemed so wonderful! We remained at anchor after a very slow, careful steaming up the river, and it was pretty to watch the lights and the dim outlines as we passed by.
_20th._–After a tremendous bustle at Custom House, where our boxes were all opened, but mine only just unfastened, Dick and I started in the train across country for Suffolk. We wished a hearty good-bye to our fellow-passengers. It was sad to see poor Mrs. Bogle standing with her seven children among her great deal boxes, _screwed down_ (for she had only time on leaving Barbadoes to pack hurriedly), and then to look at the Custom House officials opening them all–thanks to the dynamite people, who make this precaution necessary. I must confess I thoroughly enjoyed our quiet smooth journey. All the time we had a carriage to ourselves (Hedley remained at Liverpool to visit the Woods at Birkenhead), and we only changed twice, having our luncheon comfortably in a basket _en route_, and reached Ingham about seven o’clock, where the carriage was waiting, and found dear Edward, Lisa, Augusta, and Rosa Paley at Ampton; Clara and Jack had been staying out, but returned after dinner when they heard of our arrival. It was so delightful to be among so many dear ones again, and oh! the luxury of a large comfortable bed, and how thoroughly I enjoyed it, and the quiet and beauty of Ampton altogether! I hear you are expected in London to-morrow. I never lost anything during my whole journey, excepting two things, which were left behind in our railway car at Winnipeg, owing to that horrid cook hiding them; but on this journey from Liverpool, my emerald ring, set with diamonds, must have slipped off my finger, and could not be found, though I telegraphed, &c., at once; this is an unpleasant episode.
_P.S. to my Diary._–I spent a fortnight of complete rest and quiet at Ampton with dear Clara, &c., and was under medical care most of the time with a bad cough and derangement of liver; notwithstanding, it was a happy, peaceful time, and I little thought it was my last visit to that dear old house!
On _Saturday, 3rd January_, soon after my return from Weston, when I had been visiting Lady Camperdown, the three sisters Beatrice, Clara and Rosa arrived to tell me that the whole house, excepting the study and kitchen rooms, was burnt to a _shell_ that morning at three o’clock! A large children’s party had been given Friday evening, and many people had scarcely left at one o’clock, and Clara was not in bed till half-past one o’clock. The fire broke out at a quarter to three o’clock, was discovered by a maid visitor, and nearly everyone had to leave their bedrooms with only the clothes on their backs, and for some time Clara and Jack, &c., had not time to think of putting more on, though it was bitterly cold. Thank God, no one was hurt, and as the fire spread rapidly, and the cold was very great, there was great cause for thankfulness. Everyone worked well and showed presence of mind, with one or two exceptions, and Clara and Jack were calm and active throughout, but it was a dreadful blow and I felt quite _knocked down_, and did not recover for some time.
On _Wednesday, 21st January_, I accompanied Clara and Arthur, and Miss MacCormack to Barton, where Jack joined us from Ampton.
On _Thursday_ we drove over there, and I had the melancholy satisfaction of seeing the ruins, and trying to find something for Rosa, who had lost everything; alas! without success.