• PRINCESS 
 
 AND 
 
 ^Wl LG R I 
 
 E1IGL 
 
 ^BiRBB 
 
 CAROLINE-SHELDON 
 
Class _DAi3.Q_ 
 
 Book S JTH 
 
 Copyright^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
PRINCESS and PILGRIM 
 
 IN ENGLAND 
 
THE MASTER OF RUGBY. 
 
PRINCESS AND 
 
 PILGRIM 
 
 IN ENGLAND 
 
 BY 
 
 CAROLINE SHELDON 
 
 WASHINGTON. D. C. 
 
 THE LUCAS-LINCOLN COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 Two Conies Received 
 MAY 12 1904 
 
 Ceoyrteht Entry 
 
 V 
 
 ro^- X-i o o t 
 
 GLASS a, xXo. No. 
 COPY B 
 
 Copyright, 1904, 
 
 By 
 
 The Lucas-Lincoln Company 
 
" Coelum non animum mutant qui trans 
 mare currant." 
 
 Horace, Epistola X. 
 
 '' When I was at home I was in a better 
 place, but travelers must be content." 
 
 "As You Like It." 
 
PRINCESS AND PILGRIM IN ENG- 
 LAND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CHIEFLY INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 Princess and I have traveled much to- 
 gether, by land and sea, in sunshine and in 
 storm, in far countries and in our own be- 
 loved land. We know all each other's little 
 ways — a most desirable thing for traveling 
 companions; better still, we have learned not 
 to waste time and energy in trying to make 
 each other over; we have further learned to 
 avoid friction by refraining from the perni- 
 cious practice of trying to make each other 
 comfortable according to the ideas of the ex- 
 perimenter without regard to the taste of the 
 victim. 
 
 If Princess chooses to go to bed at eight 
 o'clock, she does so; quietly and peaceably, 
 without ostentation or unpleasant display of 
 virtue. She never makes disagreebale re- 
 marks about persons who burn candles, oil, 
 
8 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 or gas to unseemly hours of the night, nor 
 is she ever guilty of hinting that early rising 
 is Conducive to health, wealth and wisdom. 
 (My respect for Benjamin Franklin would be 
 far greater if he had never written that mean 
 little rhyme; it is the one manifestation of 
 weakness on the part of an otherwise power- 
 ful intellect). 
 
 If more persons would adopt the amiable 
 plan of the Princess, doubtless many divorces 
 might be avoided. However, this is mere 
 theory, founded upon observation only, not 
 reinforced by experience. 
 
 I have conferred upon this friend of mine 
 the title of Princess because she has an air, 
 not arrogant, but with a nameless flavor of 
 distinction, which causes railway officials, ser- 
 vants, hotel porters, and the rest of their 
 tribe, to attend with cheerful readiness to her 
 slightest wish. With myself all is different. 
 These persons treat me politely and comply 
 rather promptly with my requests, but al- 
 ways with a touch of condescension, as if they 
 considered me an untaught, inexperienced 
 
IN ENGLAND. g 
 
 person, astray from home, and unable without 
 aid to find way back. 
 
 We are both fond of purple and fine linen, 
 though we own little of either; but Princess 
 is aristocratic in a golf skirt, a shirt-waist, and 
 a sailor hat, whereas I, in such attire, look 
 like a parlor-maid out of a place. She is 
 canny and thrifty; I, on the other hand, but 
 for her restraining influence, should probably 
 spend my all on fascinating old books, photo- 
 graphs, and casts, being thereby reduced to 
 beg my way home. 
 
 Princess never really objects to the books, 
 on the contrary, she often encourages me to 
 buy good ones ; but occasionally, mindful of 
 the limited space in our three-room suite, she 
 looks disapprovingly at some rather large 
 cast, which she thinks I meditate buying, and 
 says in low, even, but expressive tones — 
 
 "Peregrina, where do you think of putting 
 that object when you get it home?" 
 
 We have crossed the ocean together many 
 times ; now on fast steamers, occasionally on 
 slow ones ; sometimes in the first cabin ; 
 again, in the second ; and we have even gone 
 
io PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 so far as to consider trying the steerage, 
 "just for once." 
 
 This is the way the idea came to us. With 
 a view to economizing and at the same time 
 shortening the agonies of sea-sickness for 
 Princess, who, despite much paying of trib- 
 ute, has never been able to put herself on a 
 friendly footing with the powers of the deep, 
 we had taken up our quarters in the second 
 cabin of an "ocean greyhound." 
 
 The first cabin people seemed to be having 
 rather a dull time. We did not hear of any 
 celebrated actress among them, any Ameri- 
 can heiress who had recently invested in a 
 title, nor yet of a divorcee or other centre 
 of scandal. Our "betters" sat around on the 
 deck very quietly, not having, apparently, 
 the energy necessary for making explorations 
 "abaft the rail." This is usually a favorite 
 amusement of certain among them, who 
 regard the other persons on board as belong- 
 ing to a different order of creation from 
 themselves, a sort of zoological collection. 
 
 With us, matters were quite different. 
 Across the table from Princess and myself, 
 
IN ENGLAND. " 
 
 there sat at meals a little English variety act- 
 ress. Her coiffure was copied from that of a 
 Scotch terrier, and her h's were scattered all 
 over decks, cabins, companion-ways, and 
 gangways. She flirted indiscriminately with 
 everything masculine that came within her 
 reach; told many anecdotes, credible and 
 otherwise, of her friends and kinsfolk in "the 
 profession," and was altogether most amus- 
 ing and entertaining. 
 
 Also, titles not being confined to the first 
 cabin, there was among us a Swedish count, 
 several returning consuls, two Arctic explor- 
 ers, and clergymen of every denomination 
 known to the church militant. We derived 
 much instruction and entertainment from the 
 conversation and behavior of our fellow voy- 
 agers, and only feared that we ourselves were 
 not sufficiently interesting to make an ade- 
 quate return. One evening the fact was 
 brought home to us that despite all our ad- 
 vantages of location, we might have done 
 better still. 
 
 Through the hatchway astern floated up 
 the strains of "Money Musk," played with 
 
12 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 much expression and verve on a good violin ; 
 and, keeping time to the music, was heard 
 the rhythm of dancing feet. The sound did 
 not suggest the languid glide of the fashion- 
 able ball-room, but the energetic rush, swing, 
 and stamp of your true dancer, never bored 
 or indifferent, but entering into the joy of the 
 hour with spirit and gaiety. The singing of 
 glees and choruses followed the dancing ; and 
 then a girl declaimed to the delight of the 
 audience, if one might judge by the hearty 
 applause. 
 
 Feasting our eyes upon the splendors^of a 
 June sunset over an opal sea, and the later 
 glories of the moonrise, and listening to this 
 varied program, we agreed that while the 
 second cabin was more interesting than the 
 first, the odds of real enjoyment were with 
 the steerage when the steamer is eastward 
 bound. 
 
 Then we bethought ourselves of another 
 steamer in which we had crossed the At- 
 lantic; a slow-moving vessel, whose deliber- 
 ate progress gave us ample time to learn 
 much of the occupations, dispositions, and 
 
IN ENGLAND. 13 
 
 histories of our fellow travelers. On this pas- 
 sage I had, with interest and profit to my- 
 self, spent much time on the steerage deck. 
 
 There was one child among the passengers 
 in that part of the ship who attracted special 
 attention. She was a little Irish girl, and, 
 her name being unknown to her admirers in 
 the cabin, she was, by common consent, call- 
 ed Katy. She was a tiny creature, five years 
 old perhaps, with a square, undeniably Irish 
 face ; she was not pretty, but very attractive, 
 because of the winning smile that revealed 
 dimples in the firm, sun-browned cheeks, 
 kindly curves about the mouth, and a soft 
 glow in the deep blue eyes. Below her short 
 print gown were seen bare, sturdy legs and 
 feet, browned by sun and wind; her head 
 was covered by a little wool shawl, knotted 
 under her chin ; and her chubby hands were 
 scrupulously clean. 
 
 Katy often played ring-toss all by herself; 
 and so sweet and winsome was the face under 
 the little shawl, that we greatly enjoyed 
 watching the tiny maid at her solitary game. 
 The first time we saw her try, every ring 
 
i 4 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 failed to reach the pole; but, nothing 
 daunted, she began again, and before we left 
 had succeeded in landing each circle exactly 
 where it ought to go. 
 
 "That little girl," observed the Preacher, 
 "has three excellent traits: patience, perse- 
 verance, and a sunny temper." 
 
 We laid the moral to heart, and moved on. 
 
 This fashion of naming our fellow passen- 
 gers according to our fancy is a very con- 
 venient one. Doubtless the persons con- 
 cerned would not recognize themselves 
 under the titles we apply to them, which is 
 well; but we understand each other, and 
 grow to have a kindness for them, names 
 and all ; in fact, we are often disappointed to 
 find that their lawful appellations seem to be 
 misfits. 
 
 We scarcely ever leave a ship carrying with 
 us anything but kindly thoughts of the people 
 who have shared with us the pleasures, priv- 
 ileges, discomforts and joys of our voyage. 
 Human nature is, in the main, lovable; and 
 unpretentious folk often show each other 
 much good-will when closely associated for 
 
IN ENGLAND. 15 
 
 even a short time. Besides, the voyage is a 
 rare one on which we fail to see the begin- 
 ning of one or more romances, some of which 
 never go beyond the bud, while others blos- 
 som under our very eyes; for it is astonish- 
 ing how the passengers of the same ship 
 meet each other over and over again after 
 landing, and, as every right-minded woman 
 is always interested in a love affair, we are 
 always open-eyed to watch the progress of 
 any that we have noted previously. There is 
 something really beautiful about the feminine 
 interest in matters of this kind. It makes 
 no difference how many matches a woman 
 has seen turn out badly, she always hopes 
 that the next one to come under her obser- 
 vation may result in the ideal fashion. This 
 perennial faith is one of the essential ingre- 
 dients of the "eternal womanly." 
 
 A sea voyage is a continual feast for the 
 eye. The colors of sky and water vary from 
 hour to hour, from moment to moment. I 
 once tried to keep a diary of my voyage in 
 water color, recording the face of each day 
 in a little sketch. The rapid shifting of light, 
 
16 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 as clouds drifted across the sky, or the 
 steamer changed her course, made it almost 
 impossible to secure a truthful picture ; what 
 was true one moment was false the next. 
 Yet those little sketches, with all their im- 
 perfections, bring back the memory of much 
 pure and intense joy, and I would not ex- 
 change them for hundreds of "Kodak"' views 
 with their machine-like accuracy. 
 
 Once, in despair over the inadequacy of 
 my sketches, I gave vent to my feelings 
 thus: 
 
 "The sea is grey and mournful, 
 It is blue as a sapphire fair; 
 It is regal in Tyrian purple, 
 Or black with sullen despair. 
 
 'Tis outspread in the misty sunset, 
 
 A sheet of mother-of-pearl ; 
 It dimples and laughs in the dayshine 
 
 Like a merry, roguish girl. 
 
 It is green, like a perfect beryl 
 
 Built into the heavenly wall ; 
 It glows like a floor of topaz ; 
 
 It is heavy and dark as a pall. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 17 
 
 And over it bend the heavens, 
 
 An ever-changing arch, 
 Through which the cloud-battalions 
 
 Sweep, and scurry, and march. 
 
 Plateaux of rosy splendor 
 'Neath peaks of a pearl-built world, 
 
 Fling out their crimson banners 
 And feathery pennons unfurled. 
 
 The walls of a city of vision 
 
 Are shining and glowing there; 
 While below them a violet island 
 
 Drifts by in the dream-laden air. 
 
 No colors have I to match them, 
 
 These dazzling hues of the sky; 
 I will lay away paper and palette, 
 
 And put all my brushes by; 
 
 And perchance, in the night's still watches, 
 
 In a sleep lit by magical gleams, 
 The sea, for a breath, will be changeless, 
 
 And I'll paint it once — in my dreams. 
 
 Complaints are often made about the 
 monotony of a sea voyage; but, if the trav- 
 eler settles down to live during the time of 
 
18 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 the passage, instead of regarding it as a pe- 
 riod of suspended animation, the journey is 
 full of variety and interest. 
 
 We are always eager to see our stewardess 
 and learn what manner of woman she is, be- 
 cause upon her so much of Princess' comfort 
 depends. It must be said that we have always 
 been fortunate in this respect. We have had 
 stewardesses of various nationalities, Eng- 
 lish, Irish, Scotch, Belgian and Italian, and 
 we are scarcely prepared to say which we 
 have liked best. 
 
 Once we had an Irish stewardess who 
 must have kissed the Blarney stone several 
 times, for her flattery was both abundant and 
 tactful, and combined with inexhaustible pa- 
 tience and ingenuity. Of course, we knew 
 that many of the sweet nothings lavished 
 upon us were given with an eye single to our 
 pocketbooks, but, as Marcella hath it, we all 
 like to be "bobbed to," and each of us has a 
 little bit of snobbishness lurking in some 
 unsuspected corner. Moreover, the Irish 
 woman was an artist and did much of her 
 blarneying for the sheer delight of exercis- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 19 
 
 ing her talents. Genuine art is always inter- 
 esting. 
 
 There was a Scotswoman on one of the 
 ships of the Anchor Line, who told us to 
 keep our stomachs "warrum and dhry." She 
 also gave us much interesting information, 
 afterward proved correct, about the Scottish 
 school system, and the municipal government 
 of Glasgow. She administered the informa- 
 tion in small doses, in the intervals of fetch- 
 ing and carrying to make us comfortable. It 
 was a stormy passage that we made under 
 her care; we had retreated to our room only 
 after being blown out of our chairs by a 
 sudden and powerful gust — "a bim wind," 
 our guardian angel pronounced it — and, 
 as it was several days before we ventured 
 forth again, our "neat-handed Phyllis" did 
 not lack occupation. 
 
 I lost my heart entirely to a rosy English 
 woman who carried me through a siege of 
 sea-sickness on one of the steamers plying 
 between Philadelphia and Liverpool. She 
 was a beauty, with silky brown hair, dark 
 gray eyes, a complexion like wild rose petals, 
 
20 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 and a voice that would have been a fortune 
 to Lucrezia Borgia. Verily, if that woman 
 had offered me a "cup of cold pizen," assur- 
 ing me in her velvety chest tones that it 
 would do me "so much good," I should have 
 swallowed the dose without protest, serenely 
 confident that it would work miracles in the 
 way of relieving dizziness in my head, and 
 putting a stop to the compound rotary mo- 
 tion in what had at some prehistoric period 
 been my stomach. 
 
 We once had a Belgian stewardess who 
 was as entertaining as a two-ring circus and 
 as hard to keep in sight. She could not read 
 the bill of fare, and invariably forgot my 
 carefully-made French translations, when I 
 ordered meals for the Princess. The results, 
 which were both ludicrous and irritating, oc- 
 casioned many interviews with that mighty, 
 but good-natured, potentate, the chief stew- 
 ard, and many unpleasant delays in serving 
 the repasts of Her Royal Highness. At last, 
 I took to making, with a pencil, the names of 
 the required articles of food, after which the 
 
IN ENGLAND. 21 
 
 commissary department, so far as we were 
 concerned, ran smoothly. 
 
 The one Italian stewardess into whose 
 hands we have thus far fallen, was charming. 
 She was pretty to begin with — all steward- 
 esses should be pretty, it's so good for tired 
 eyes to have something agreeable to look at. 
 She had a voice almost as sweet as my Eng- 
 lishwoman's, and the exquisite courtesy that 
 seems the birthright of her race, from the 
 royal family to the peasants of the Campagna 
 and the gondoliers of Venice. This may be 
 insincere, as certain cynics declare, but it is 
 beautiful and wonderfully agreeable. If 
 people are to cheat me, I prefer that they do 
 it with a due observance of polite forms. 
 Moreover, when I sum up my experiences 
 in various lands, I can not remember that 1 
 have been deceived and robbed by courteous 
 Italians and polished Frenchmen any more 
 than by gruff Germans and blunt English- 
 men ; and the Latins have ruffled my temper 
 far less than the Teutons. 
 
 In fact, as you will see, the Princess and I 
 set forth upon our little jaunts with quite an 
 
22 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 obstinate determination to be pleased and 
 have a good time ; and we avoid grumblers 
 and fault-finders as we should a mad dog or 
 the cholera. 
 
 It was on our last voyage to England that 
 we came upon our most interesting romance 
 — ours by right of discovery. 
 
 We were crossing on a slow steamer, and 
 it was toward the end of the second day. 
 Princess, a trifle unsteady in her gait, had 
 decided to take the air on deck for a little 
 while. I was wondering how she was to be 
 maintained in an upright position while I 
 arranged blankets and cushions in her chair, 
 when a cheery masculine voice with a famil- 
 iar ring, said, 
 
 "Let me help you." 
 
 I looked at the speaker and recognized 
 Ned Andrews, a cousin several times remov- 
 ed, a great friend of ours from childhood. At 
 the same moment he became aware of our 
 identity and continued : 
 
 "O, it's really you. I got hold of a pas- 
 senger list only half an hour ago, and have 
 been hunting for you ever since. Let me put 
 
IN ENGLAND. 2$ 
 
 Princess in her chair, and then we can ex- 
 plain how we all happen to be here." 
 
 So Ned supported Princess while I placed 
 the pillows; then he put her into her chair 
 and tucked the rugs about her, performed the 
 like kind offices for me, after which he 
 perched on the rail near by, one arm wound 
 about a stout rod, and surveyed us with 
 amiable satisfaction. 
 
 "I heard you were going to England this 
 summer," he began soon, pushing his dark 
 blue cap back from his face. "But I under- 
 stood you were going on a Cunarder, and so 
 wasn't looking for you. Where have you 
 kept yourselves? I should think I'd have 
 run over you before this time, there aren't 
 many more than a hundred cabin passengers 
 on board." 
 
 "We did think of going on a Cunarder," 
 Princess replied, "but decided that the long 
 voyage would give us a nice rest. I think 
 the Van Ruyters feasted us too abundantly 
 while we were in Philadelphia, for even Pere- 
 grina hasn't felt like herself since we started." 
 
 Just then Helen Curtis, whose chair with 
 
24 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 her aunt's had been placed next ours, came 
 to sit down with us. Of course, we intro- 
 duced our cousin, and noticed with pleasure 
 his admiring glance at our friend. Helen is 
 such a pretty girl that it would be unpardon- 
 able in anyone not to admire her, so we noted 
 with satisfaction that Ned's taste was cor- 
 rect. Helen is a slender girl, with dark hair 
 that even damp weather never renders 
 stringy, deep blue eyes with long dark lashes, 
 and a complexion in which the color comes 
 and goes so quickly that one never knows 
 whether to say she is rosy or pale. She 
 stayed with us only a short time, finding it 
 necessary to pay frequent visits to her aunt, 
 who is always thoroughly miserable on ship- 
 board, and does her best to keep everyone 
 around her from enjoying the voyage. 
 
 "Miss Curtis," observed Ned, reflectively, 
 after Helen had gone below; "I don't re- 
 member ever hearing you speak of Miss 
 Curtis." 
 
 "No," responded Princess, "you never did. 
 She is a friend of the Van Ruyters. When 
 they found that we were all coming on the 
 
IN ENGLAND. 25 
 
 same steamer, they invited the four of us to 
 spend a few days with them before sailing. 
 We like Helen very much, but Miss Brad- 
 ford is a perfect dragon. You'll need to 
 mind your p's and q's when she's about. She 
 thinks any man who is not a graduate of the 
 Boston Latin School and Harvard University 
 is an ignoramus 'absolutely without culture.' 
 You don't happen to have had any ancestors 
 on board the Mayflower, do you ? Brush up 
 your genealogical chart, and prepare to be 
 catechised. For, as soon as Aunt Minerva 
 hears you've been introduced to Helen, she'll 
 be looking into your antecedents. 'It is im- 
 possible to be too careful about a young girl's 
 acquaintances.' " 
 
 Ned laughed at Princess' imitation of Miss 
 Bradford's manner, then he said, slowly — 
 
 "She's right to guard her niece carefully. 
 I'm afraid I haven't any Mayflower ances- 
 tors, have I ? You ought to know." 
 
 "Our English ancestors came over in 
 1630," replied Princess, "and the others were 
 patroons in the Mohawk Valley. You'll find 
 it necessary to stand on your merits, my boy; 
 
26 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 you're without aristocratic ancestry, and were 
 educated at a 'fresh water college.' It will 
 test your mettle to get into Aunt Minerva's 
 good graces." 
 
 Ned smiled at the Princess with an air of 
 perfect understanding. Soon he began ask- 
 ing questions about our numerous relatives. 
 We, looking at his strong, well-knit figure, 
 his clear, honest gray eyes, and square, de- 
 termined chin, had not much doubt that Aunt 
 Minerva's prejudices would give way in time. 
 We remembered, too, that Ned usually has 
 what he really wishes to have, if pluck, en- 
 ergy and tact can gain it. 
 
 It will be understood from the foregoing 
 remarks that Princess and I already had 
 plans for our two friends. Indeed, after 
 spending a week with the aunt and niece at 
 the Van Ruyters, we had said to each other — 
 
 "How perfectly that girl would suit Ned." 
 
 To the young man himself, however, we 
 said nothing of the kind, but played upon 
 certain qualities of his, well known to both 
 of us, by telling him of the lion in the way, 
 in the person of the uncompromising aunt. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 27 
 
 It will come out all right," said Princess 
 to me in our state room that night, "if we 
 don't spoil matters by getting too eager to 
 help. It's easy to see that he admires her 
 very much already. If Aunt Minerva is only 
 obliged to stay below a good deal they'll be 
 pretty well acquainted by the time we land. 
 Then a little opposition and snubbing from 
 Miss Bradford will rouse Ned, and I'll risk 
 him. Middle-aged women always think him 
 perfection." 
 
 "I've never seen many women — or men 
 either — of any age that didn't like Ned, or at 
 least respect him thoroughly," I answered as 
 I turned out the light. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 CHESTER. 
 
 Old Chester, quiet city by the Dee, 
 
 What ancient memories cluster 'round thy name. 
 
 While all things change, thy calm is still the same, 
 The hurry of our time disturbs not thee. 
 Kingdoms may rise and fall and empires wane; 
 
 New lands be found beyond the swelling sea; 
 But here there comes no thought of loss or gain, 
 
 If but thy streets and lanes in quiet be. 
 Caesar may pass once more with all his train, 
 Wild rumors rise of fierce, invading Dane; 
 
 Charles see his bands dispersed to meet no more ; 
 Secure thou sittest in thy old-world calm, 
 
 Though surging life-tides beat about thy door, 
 Unmoved by laurel wreath or martyr's palm. 
 
 Princess and I had decided to spend the 
 whole summer in England, doing our trav- 
 eling in a very comfortable leisurely fashion, 
 and Miss Bradford and Helen had decided to 
 be of our company. Ned had come over on 
 some business, but expected to do a little 
 sight-seeing between times, so we had given 
 
IN ENGLAND. 2g 
 
 him a copy of our itinerary, inviting him to 
 join us whenever it was convenient and 
 agreeable. 
 
 Our cousin had been introduced to Miss 
 Bradford only on the last day of the voyage, 
 when the expected catechising had taken 
 place. Nevertheless the young man had 
 made such good use of his opportunities dur- 
 ing that half day, that, as we were crossing 
 from Liverpool to Chester by ferry Miss 
 Minerva remarked to me that "Mr. Andrews 
 seemed an excellent young man ; such a pity 
 he had not had the advantages of a university 
 training." 
 
 We came near lingering at Chester for the 
 entire season. The quiet of the town, its 
 flavor of antiquity, its absolute freedom from 
 worry and bustle, all suited our mood. In 
 our native land, we read the morning paper 
 regularly, and feel aggrieved if the boy who 
 delivers it delays his coming, so that we 
 are unable to learn and discuss, over eight 
 o'clock toast and coffee, the latest news from 
 the remotest quarters of the globe. If our 
 neighbor's puppy, as sometimes happens, 
 
3 o PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 pursues his investigations in advance of ours, 
 and gnaws out the middle of the most inter- 
 esting articles, great is our wrath, and im- 
 minent the danger of destruction overhang- 
 ing that sprawling young animal. But, after 
 a week or two on shipboard without news- 
 papers, we learn to be quite comfortable, 
 knowing nothing either of the results of the 
 last election or the special attractions on Y"s 
 bargain counter. Therefore when we had 
 passed our inspection under the eyes of the 
 polite customs officials at Liverpool, and 
 transferred ourselves and our impedimenta to 
 our quaint inn at Chester, we felj very nat- 
 urally into the ways of the place, and felt 
 that we should be content to abide there for 
 an indefinite period. 
 
 On the evening after our arrival we decid- 
 ed to walk around the city walls. They are 
 said to follow the line of Caesar's fortifica- 
 tions, but have been renewed from time to 
 time, so that it is difficult to determine the 
 exact period at which a given part was built, 
 unless the observer is an expert in judging 
 the age of masonry. To an imaginative, 
 
IN ENGLAND. 31 
 
 inexact feminine mind, this is rather an ad- 
 vantage than otherwise ; the whole structure 
 has a delightful suggestion of by-gone times ; 
 and for an especially pleasing spot, one has a 
 range of two thousand years to choose from ; 
 while, in order to preserve one's illusions, it 
 is only necessary to refrain from reading 
 those paragraphs in the guide books which 
 deal with dates, and from listening to the 
 remarks of those superfluous individuals who 
 persist in deluging their hearers with un- 
 sought information. The best method to pur- 
 sue with a person of this class is to think 
 about something else while he is talking, and 
 occasionally say "yes," "indeed?" "strange, 
 isn't it?" to prevent his considering too cu- 
 riously what your state of mind may be. A 
 certain amount of accuracy is necessary for 
 the conduct of life ; but one should not be 
 too eager to thrust it upon others. The 
 truth of this conclusion is always especially 
 apparent to me, when I've gone somewhere 
 with Miss Bradford. 
 
 It was near sunset when we began our 
 reconnaissance of the walls, and before us 
 
32 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 lay the long mid-summer twilight of the 
 British Isles. There was a slight suggestion 
 of mist in the air ; but armed with umbrellas, 
 we had no fears. (Princess and I had one 
 between us ; for, while the natives in most 
 European countries travel with several ap- 
 parently superfluous protections from sun 
 and rain, besides canes, staffs and alpenstocks 
 tied up in sheaves, we limit ourselves strictly 
 to one umbrella. If, by chance, we start out 
 on a long journey with two, it becomes a 
 point of honor for one of us to lose hers at 
 the earliest opportunity, while it is a misde- 
 meanor for the other to call attention to the 
 loss. This duty performed, we move on light- 
 hearted and joyous over our lessened re- 
 sponsibility.) 
 
 We walked tranquilly along the old wall, 
 stopping often to enjoy the views of the Dee, 
 and wonder if any Mary were even then 
 "calling the cattle home." We were not 
 simply drinking in the calm beauty of the 
 landscape, we were steeping our very souls 
 in it, and feeling all fret and strain gradually 
 relax and disappear under the quiet influ- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 33 
 
 ences of the soft evening air, and the green 
 meadows bound together by the silver rib- 
 bon of the stream. The mist changed to a 
 drizzle and the drizzle to a downpour, but 
 what cared we? We were serenely happy, 
 quite above being disturbed by any such 
 trifle as the necessity of sending jackets, 
 skirts and shoes to the kitchen for drying 
 and freshening. 
 
 Even Miss Bradford trudged along cheer- 
 fully under the umbrella that Ned held over 
 her with a most devoted air, while Helen fol- 
 lowed them, Princess and I bringing up the 
 rear. The aunt forgot even her fears of 
 rheumatism — usually painfully alive — under 
 the genial influence of Ned's attentions, the 
 jokes that swept back and forth, and the 
 laughter rippling about her. 
 
 Having reveled in an evening on the walls, 
 we went next morning for our first peep at 
 the cathedral. We always enjoy loafing 
 about a beautiful building, going back time 
 after time for a new view of a favorite spot, 
 gradually becoming acquainted, and making 
 friends with the place. It is the only way to 
 3 
 
34 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 derive real satisfaction from a great piece of 
 architecture. 
 
 Aside from its richly-carved choir stalls, 
 Chester Cathedral has little special interest 
 beyond its connection with Charles Kingsley. 
 Even the presence of the arms of the Prince 
 of Wales (Earl of Chester) and two old flags 
 which touch the American heart because 
 they figured at the battle of Bunker Hill, can 
 hardly draw our thoughts away from the 
 good muscular Christian who was once 
 Canon here, and who would deserve to be 
 remembered by the English-speaking world, 
 even if he had left undone some of his other 
 good deeds, and merely written "Westward 
 Ho" and "Water Babies." 
 
 The coat of arms brings back to mind the 
 other Lord of Chester, the Constable Hugo, 
 whom Scott's white magic has recalled from 
 the past to live again in the pages of "The 
 Betrothed." It is old-fashioned to admire 
 Scott now; moreover, it hath been said by 
 no less a person than Mark Twain that gentle 
 Sir Walter's tales of chivalry are responsible 
 for the blood feuds and the dueling of our 
 
IN ENGLAND. 35 
 
 border States. Yet I am inclined to wonder, 
 humbly, and with due deference to superior 
 wisdom, whether the minds of the readers 
 were not partly responsible. Boys in New 
 England and the Middle States read the 
 novels and the poems without any such dire- 
 ful results. Possibly there is truth in the 
 remark of one such lad : "Of course, a man 
 ought to be careful what he writes; but, 
 after all, you know, an author isn't responsi- 
 ble if his readers are fools." 
 
 Perhaps, "after all," Mark was only joking, 
 and is not responsible if some of his learned 
 reviewers lack a sense of humor. 
 
 We had a little discussion on this subject 
 as we stood examining the coats of arms, 
 Aunt Minerva inclining to the great humor- 
 ist's view, because she knows some men in 
 Cambridge who support it; but Ned said, 
 turning to Princess and myself, "The Wav- 
 erly novels never hurt us any, did they? Re- 
 member how we used to play 'Ivanhoe' in the 
 old barn?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Princess; "Sir Walter 
 has given us many innocently happy hours, 
 
36 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 though I believe Peregrina has never been 
 reconciled because you boys insisted that she 
 should be Adela Fitz Urse or some other 'fair 
 ladye' instead of putting on the tin armor 
 and figuring as a knight." 
 
 To the average American traveler the 
 most attractive parts of England and Scot- 
 land are those spots where the men and 
 women of Scott, Shakespeare, Dickens, 
 Thackeray and George Eliot have played 
 their parts in the dramas arranged for them 
 by their creators. Historians and antiqua- 
 rians may go on pointing out discrepancies 
 and anachronisms to the end of time ; but 
 the men and women we know and love — or 
 hate — are the Margaret of Anjou, the Con- 
 stance, the King John, the Leicester, the 
 Richards and the Henrys of the two great 
 masters of wizardry, Shakespeare and Scott. 
 It is strange that any one can praise Shakes- 
 peare and decry Scott, when it is so plain that 
 Sir Walter is an earnest and loving disciple 
 of King William. What we are pleased to 
 call history is frequently one man's judg- 
 ment, more or less biased, upon the facts that 
 
IN ENGLAND. 37 
 
 he has been able to collect. Your only real 
 history is found in the letters, the documents, 
 the plays, the ballads — even the fiction — of 
 the time considered; and these speak a dif- 
 ferent language and tell a different story to 
 every reader. Facts and dates we may col- 
 lect, but the amount of real history that we 
 learn depends upon our human quality, our 
 power to find beneath varying customs and 
 costumes the essential humanity of all climes 
 and ages; upon our realization of the fact 
 that our knowledge of others is only what 
 
 "We dimly guess, deciphering [ourselves]." 
 
 Most Cathedral services seem bare and 
 inadequate, an impertinent trifling with the 
 solemnity of the building, a feeble effort to 
 call the thoughts of the congregation into a 
 fixed channel from the flights through space 
 and eternity to which they are incited by the 
 soaring pillars and springing arches. To sit 
 in a great cathedral and let one's soul lie 
 open to its influences, aided by the roll of the 
 organ, and perhaps the chanting of unseen 
 choristers — if it be very good and not too 
 
38 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 near — is quite enough. Anything else breaks 
 the spell by a touch of the commonplace. 
 
 It is sometimes said that when a person has 
 seen one cathedral he has seen them all, there 
 is no need of visiting others. It might as 
 well be said that when he has seen one human 
 being he doesn't need to know any others. 
 Every cathedral has a marked individuality 
 and a special message of its own. Then, too, 
 people have a foolish habit of asking you 
 which cathedral you like best; just as they 
 ask you, with equal foolishness, who is your 
 favorite author — as if it could be the same 
 one all the time. 
 
 I know a lady — a good Christian, irre- 
 proachable in her daily walk and conversa- 
 tion, a model wife and mother, and a benedic- 
 tion to the community in which she lives — 
 who avers that every married woman should 
 have two husbands ; one, for the wear and 
 tear of every-day life, a sheet anchor in pe- 
 riods of stress and storm, and another, for 
 dress rehearsals and social functions, who 
 could, between times, be wrapped up in pink 
 
IN ENGLAND. 39 
 
 cotton and camphor gum and put away in 
 the china closet. 
 
 So with cathedrals, no one can give his 
 allegiance to one for all time. The last one 
 is almost always the loveliest ; yet, when one 
 is away from them all, it is delightful to re- 
 view them in memory and find in each some- 
 thing to fit a special mood. 
 
 This makes it easy to understand how a 
 man can fall in love successively with several 
 very different women. In truth, I myself 
 have fallen in love with a great many men, 
 as different as Hector, Prince of Troy, Rod- 
 erick Dhu, and John Milton. However, as 
 most of them have been dead several cen- 
 turies they have not occasioned me much loss 
 of sleep or many flutterings of heart. 
 
 After wandering about the queer streets 
 of Chester, looking in at the windows of 
 shops in the Rows, spending a disproportion- 
 ate amount of money on prints and photo- 
 graphs, lunching on thin bread and butter, 
 ham and strawberries and cream at a dim 
 old restaurant, it is well to stray into the 
 half-ruined church of St. John, there to re- 
 
40 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 turn thanks for one's many mercies. It is a 
 pity that so beautiful a building should be in 
 such a state, yet there are compensations; 
 one's imagination may run riot and "restore," 
 without fear of criticism, with the absolute 
 certainty that one person, at least, will be 
 pleased with the results. 
 
 _ Like all Americans, we had wondered just 
 how much meaning there really was in the 
 legend so common all over the United King- 
 dom, "Soapmakers to H. R. H., the Princess 
 of Wales," "Hatters to H. R. H., the Prince 
 of Wales," etc., etc. Accordingly one day 
 when we were buying chocolate in a shop in 
 Chester which bore the inscription, "Con- 
 fectioners to Her Majesty, the Queen," Ned 
 blandly asked: 
 
 "As official confectioners, what do you 
 supply to the Queen?" 
 
 The trim shop-girl replied : 
 
 "O, when there is a royal wedding, we 
 always make a cake, sir." 
 
 A few weeks later we came upon an old 
 copy of an illustrated London paper, which 
 gave an account of the wedding of some of 
 
IN ENGLAND. 41 
 
 Queen Victoria's grandchildren; and, among 
 other interesting objects therein portrayed, 
 was a cake that suggested the tower of Pisa, 
 except that its position was vertical. Below 
 it was printed: 
 
 "Wedding cake provided by Her Majesty, 
 
 ordered from B , her confectioner in 
 
 Chester." 
 
 So we had settled one weighty question. 
 Ned regrets that, on account of difficulties of 
 transportation, it will not be possible for 
 
 him to order a wedding cake from B of 
 
 Chester. Princess suggests that he might 
 come to Chester to be married. Ned rather 
 likes that idea, and thinks he may do it, if 
 the other person concerned, "when found," 
 is willing. 
 
 Of course, while at Chester, we made a 
 little trip to Hawarden. We could not see 
 the interior of Gladstone's home, because 
 Mrs. Gladstone was then occupying the 
 house; but we wandered about the noble 
 park, and caught a glimpse of a white-haired 
 lady in mourning and a girl walking together 
 in the formal garden. We told each other 
 
42 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 that they must be Mrs. Gladstone and Dor- 
 othy Drew, and did not destroy our content- 
 ment by asking unnecessary questions of the 
 gardener or the man who was mowing in the 
 park. 
 
 Hawarden is, like all English villages that 
 I know, a beautiful place, made still more at- 
 tractive by the public spirit and kindly con- 
 sideration of the Prime Minister whose home 
 was there during so many happy years. 
 What place among statesmen history will 
 finally assign to William Ewart Gladstone, 
 only time can tell; but in Hawarden, his 
 memory will always be fragrant as that of a 
 devoted husband and father, a kind and 
 thoughtful neighbor, an upright Christian 
 gentleman. 
 
 In recording our happiness at Chester, I 
 must not fail to make mention of our inn. It 
 was, of course, a quiet one, whose prices were 
 moderate. It was exquisitely neat; hops 
 climbed up over poles in the courtyard, and 
 palms and ferns stood about in unexpected 
 corners. 
 
 Our room had beds with green canopies, 
 
IN ENGLAND. 43 
 
 and we felt sure that some of Queen Eliza- 
 beth's maids of honor must have occupied 
 them. Helen and Miss Bradford had crim- 
 son canopies over their beds, and Helen ex- 
 pressed her conviction that King Charles and 
 his favorite gentlemen-in-waiting slept, or lay- 
 awake, in them the night before the battle of 
 Rowton Moor. Whereupon, Ned not to be 
 outdone, remarked: 
 
 "I don't know anything about the age of 
 the furniture in your rooms ; but mine is imi- 
 tation antique, made in Stamford, Connecti- 
 cut. I hunted up the maker's label." 
 
 The dining-parlor was a cozy little room, 
 with green-tinted walls adorned with pretty 
 etchings and water colors. 
 
 The maids were rosy and round with soft 
 English voices. The "Boots" we never saw 
 until our departure, when he lined up with 
 the other servants to receive his "tip;" but 
 he spirited away our shoes at mysterious 
 hours of the night; and in the morning 
 dropped them before our doors with a "heavy 
 thump" that reminded us of the falling ship- 
 mates of the "Ancient Mariner." This was, 
 
44 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 doubtless, a gentle hint that even royalty and 
 pilgrims must not sleep all day, when there 
 are still in Chester half-timbered houses un- 
 visited and Cheshire cheese untasted. 
 
 Princess refused the cheese point-blank, at 
 first sight, so did Helen; Miss Bradford 
 and I thought we would venture upon a bit. 
 Some of it had reached a green old age, and 
 other some was hoary with unmeasured an- 
 tiquity. Truth compels me to state that 
 neither Miss Bradford, with all her respect 
 for ancient lineage, nor myself, usually fond 
 of any kind of cheese, were able to' dispose 
 of the portion set before us. Ned ate his and 
 mine too, and pronounced it good. It was 
 easy to see that his ability to do the proper 
 thing on this occasion gave him added im- 
 portance in Aunt Minerva's estimation. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN THE LAKE COUNTRY. 
 
 On our departure from Chester Ned said 
 good-bye for a time, as he had business in 
 London. However, he decided to join us 
 later for a few days' stay at Warwick. 
 
 Accordingly we four women started by our- 
 selves to visit the lake country. We took the 
 "Prelude" and other Wordsworthian poems 
 as a guide book, and straying northward 
 from Chester went first to Furness Abbey. 
 
 Available information about this ruin is 
 exceedingly meager. It belonged to a 
 brotherhood of Cistercian monks, at first call- 
 ed the grey, afterward the white brothers, 
 and was built as early as the twelfth century. 
 Only the walls of the Abbey church and the 
 Chapter House are preserved with any ap- 
 proach to completeness ; yet, from the scat- 
 tered stones and crumbling walls, one can al- 
 most erect again the mass of buildings ay 
 they were in the days of their prosperity, 
 
46 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 when the Abbot of Furness in the Valley of 
 Deadly Nightshade was a mighty man in the 
 land; when in the scriptorium learned men 
 copied priceless manuscripts ; when the clois- 
 tered brothers gathered daily in the great re- 
 fectory and heard readings from lives of the 
 saints while eating their noon-tide meal; 
 when fasts and vigils were observed in chapel 
 and cells; when causes of note were tried in 
 the Chapter House ; when processions gay 
 with banners swept down the stately nave 
 and pillared aisles ; when lay brothers busied 
 themselves with tending flocks and herds, 
 and caring for forest, meadow, , and glebe- 
 land in this almost royal domain; and the 
 white monks and their abbot commanded 
 respect and inspired awe in all the country- 
 side. 
 
 It is strange that the old abbey is not as 
 rich in story and legend as in ivy and roses; 
 that not even Scott found out a drama of 
 mediaeval life played under the shadow of 
 the once stately monastery. But so it is; 
 this monument of a manner of life and 
 thought now dead among the Anglo-Norman 
 
IN ENGLAND. 47 
 
 race, lies here on the green hillside, deserted, 
 silent, just a little sad, but beautiful beyond 
 all words. 
 
 After our half-day among the ruins, we 
 were most prosaically hungry; accordingly, 
 we betook ourselves to the Abbey Hotel; 
 and, in its sumptuous parlor, sat down for 
 afternoon tea. We felt like ladies of high 
 degree come from some neighboring castle, 
 so daintily splendid were our surroundings. 
 When the bill appeared, we were sure the 
 proprietor had mistaken us for some such 
 persons of quality. However, this was an 
 unusual extravagance; and, despite our mis- 
 givings, we agreed that we had received our 
 money's worth. 
 
 There was, to begin with, the parlor itself; 
 the tea, bread-and-butter, and jam were all 
 of the best ; and the maid, in black gown and 
 snowy cap and apron, was a picture, with her 
 fluffy golden hair, her sapphire eyes, and 
 cheeks as pink as her ribbons. She looked 
 like the confidential serving-woman of a 
 duchess, and tripped about the parlor as if 
 it were indeed Her Grace's drawing-room. 
 
48 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 As we were leaving, I asked her some ques- 
 tion about the neighboring ruin, to which 
 she replied, with an injured expression in her 
 blue orbs, "Really, mem, I don't know." 
 
 When we were safely outside, Princess 
 remonstrated. 
 
 "You should know better than to ask such 
 questions of a pink-and-white butterfly. 
 When a girl is as satisfying to the eye as that 
 one, she fulfills her mission. Nothing further 
 should be expected of her." 
 
 "She is satisfying to the ear, also," I re- 
 torted. "I wasn't seeking information, I 
 only wanted to hear her speak, 'whether she 
 said anything worth hearing or not." 
 
 The moment we put foot upon the Cygnet 
 at Lakeside for the trip to Bowness, we suc- 
 cumbed to the attractions of the Lake 
 Country. Three of us did, that is; Aunt 
 Minerva was wretched until we landed. I 
 believe she missed Ned, who from the time 
 he was presented to her on board the steamer 
 until he put us into our compartment in a 
 "carriage" of the north-bound train, had 
 compassed the good lady with observances, 
 
IN ENGLAND. 49 
 
 This rather interfered with his attentions to 
 Helen, but I gathered from the demure smile 
 with which she watched the proceedings that 
 the little rogue understood our cousin's tac- 
 tics as well as if he had explained them in so 
 many words. 
 
 It was evening when we sailed up Winder- 
 mere to Bowness; the lake was calm, the 
 moon most obligingly present. It must be 
 said that during this particular summer the 
 moon behaved as she does in a German 
 novel, always shining when her light was 
 needed for spectacular effect. Things are 
 not always thus arranged in real life, and the 
 moon is proverbially untrustworthy; but, 
 during this season, she was disposed to be 
 gracious and always appeared when desired. 
 
 At Ambleside, we seriously considered the 
 question of selling our return tickets, buying 
 a lot, and building thereon a cottage, in which 
 to end our days in retirement, communing 
 with the mighty and unconventional souls 
 that have made the region a goal of pilgrim- 
 age. The temptation was great, and the re- 
 flection that necessity required our return to 
 
50 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 the work-a-day world, to replenish our 
 pocket-books, alone deterred us from carry- 
 ing out the plan. 
 
 In these days, alas, pilgrims may not de- 
 pend upon the charity of the public, said pub- 
 lic having too many other claims upon its 
 resources, and pilgrims of modern times 
 being beset with more numerous, complex, 
 and expensive wants than those of the Middle 
 Ages. Moreover, he, or she, who now-a-days 
 striveth to go a-pilgriming in the good old 
 fashion is liable to arrest and other unpleas- 
 ant experiences; to be called unseemly 
 names, as vagrant, tramp, or hobo; and to 
 hear many times and oft Iago's advice to 
 Roderigo, 
 
 "Put money in thy purse." 
 
 Despite these discouraging facts, no pil- 
 grims of any time ever visited the shrines of 
 saint and martyr with more diligence and de- 
 votion than we gave to Harriet Martineau's 
 house with its garden and sun-dial; to Gras- 
 mere and Castle Rigg churches ; to Dove and 
 Nob cottages and all the other haunts of 
 Wordsworth, De Ouincy and the Coleridges. 
 
IN ENGLAND. Si 
 
 Such delightful walks and drives as we had 
 over the hilly roads, now shaded by trees in 
 full leaf; now bordered by fields in which 
 grew, rank on rank, the crimson fox-glove, 
 "like regiments of soldiers," our old char- 
 ioteer said ; and now perfumed by the breath 
 of wild roses or spicy bog-myrtle. Shall any 
 of us ever forget, I wonder, our first glimpse 
 of Rydal Water, that tiny lake with wooded 
 island, which somehow looked incongruously 
 tropical, and awoke memories of Robinson 
 Crusoe and Paul and Virginia. 
 
 A photographer at Ambleside told us that 
 since the present-day Wordsworths have 
 grown well-to-do, and begun to shine a little 
 in the glory reflected from their famous kins- 
 man, they object to having him associated 
 with Dove Cottage, trying, on the other 
 hand, to emphasize his residence at Rydal 
 Mount, while they refuse to allow the public 
 to visit this later home of the poet. But 
 Stopford Brooke and the Wordsworth so- 
 ciety have defeated the aims of the snobbish 
 relatives and are making Dove Cottage a 
 
52 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 fitting memorial of the poet, his wife, and 
 his sister. 
 
 Wordsworth was a man fortunate in his 
 womankind. Suppose they had longed for 
 cities, for society, bric-a-brac, operas, even 
 for ease and luxury in their country home, 
 where then would have been his "sweet 
 calm" and tranquil content? 
 
 I left Dove Cottage fully resolved that 
 when the day came for me to bid farewell to 
 active life, I would retire with the few hun- 
 dreds I hope to have saved by that time, to 
 the Adirondack forest, or some lovely nook 
 in the woods of Wisconsin, build for myself 
 a tiny house on a hillside, so that I, too, 
 might step directly into the garden from my 
 second-floor window; that I would line the 
 walls with book-cases to the height of six 
 feet; hang all my choicest pictures, framed 
 and unframed, in the spaces above ; and here 
 in communion with the choice spirits of the 
 ages, I would spend my last days. 
 
 "The world forgetting, by the world forgot," 
 
 if perchance the world should know enough 
 
IN ENGLAND. 53 
 
 about me to make forgetting a necessary 
 process. 
 
 I confided this beautiful project to my 
 companions one evening as we sat on the 
 shore of Lake Windermere; but I met with 
 scant encouragement. 
 
 "What will you do about mice, in a house 
 alone by yourself?" queried Helen, who had 
 been up with me two or three nights, hunting 
 imaginary rodents. 
 
 "Then, you know," added the Princess, 
 "there are sometimes bears in the Adiron- 
 dacks, and tramps in all lonely places, besides 
 you'd have nervous prostration by the time 
 you'd encountered three or four cows in your 
 morning rambles." 
 
 So I shall probably not carry out my plan ; 
 but go on working after I ought to stop, in 
 order to earn money to spend upon things 
 that I do not want, but which civilized hu- 
 man beings are popularly supposed to need. 
 
 It is much easier for a man to live in this 
 fashion than for a woman to do so. Even 
 in the home of an intellectual hermit, with 
 artistic tastes, fires must be built; outside, 
 
54 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 paths must be swept; repairs, taxes, and 
 other things of that nature must be looked 
 after. All things considered, I fear I am 
 not perfectly adapted to the life of a recluse. 
 Other kindly spirits besides those of the 
 Wordsworths haunt this lovely region. De 
 Ouincey came a-visiting and remained nine- 
 teen years. How strange it is that he should 
 have been a Briton — this creature of Oriental 
 brilliancy of imagination, and shy, erratic 
 manners. But his was a time when unusual 
 minds and characters abounded. Coleridge, 
 a towering personality despite his many 
 weaknesses, was as Orientally magnificent 
 in his imagination, and, to put it mildly, as 
 unconventional as De Quincey. Keats, 
 Byron, and Shelley, though not associated 
 with them, had even more impatience of ac- 
 cepted standards than Wordsworth and Cole- 
 ridge. It was, throughout Europe, an un- 
 easy age. Southey escaped the prevailing 
 influence; but his writings are as tame as 
 his opinions. Doubtless, he was a more com- 
 fortable man to live with than his more gifted 
 
IN ENGLAND. 55 
 
 neighbors; and the world is richer for his 
 honest, cheerful, laborious life. 
 
 One must wonder at times if the Words- 
 worth women were not occasionally con- 
 scious of a pain in their necks, induced by 
 continuous looking up; or whether they re- 
 laxed once in a way by exchanging glances of 
 sympathetic understanding over the idiosyn- 
 cracies of William, who was, after all, only a 
 man, and totally devoid of humor. The world 
 will never realize how much quiet satisfaction 
 women derive from that sort of telegraphing 
 to each other; for it is a thing no mortal 
 man can ever appreciate. 
 
 Over at Coniston, lived for a time that 
 most idealistic of political economists and 
 most uncompromising hater of shams, John 
 Ruskin. This home of his meets one's sense 
 of the fitness of things. It is remote enough 
 and beautiful enough to satisfy the artistic, 
 grumbling, yet essentially kindly critic of the 
 human race and its works, aesthetic and 
 otherwise. So here he sleeps and his grave 
 is one more shrine, visited of those who love 
 whatsoever is pure, true, and of good report. 
 
56 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 At Foxe Howe, between Rydal Water and 
 Ambleside, is the home of by no means the 
 least of the Lakeside celebrities, Dr. Thomas 
 Arnold. The house and its surroundings are 
 as beautiful as everything else hereabouts, 
 and its owner was an entirely worthy inhab- 
 itant. Beyond this praise cannot go. A 
 man who could assume the leadership of a 
 company of boys, win them against even 
 their prejudices and traditions, not merely to 
 an acquiescence in his plans for their wel- 
 fare, but to a hearty support thereof; a man 
 who sent up to the universities, year after 
 year, boys who were recognized as his pupils 
 because of their uprightness and their scorn 
 of trickery; such a man has lived one of the 
 grandest of poems. 
 
 I would rather have been Thomas Arnold 
 than William Wordsworth. Possibly there 
 were days, when things went badly at Rugby, 
 when boys were unreasonable, lessons badly 
 prepared, and masters irritable, when Dr. 
 Arnold. The house and its surroundings are 
 great personality, and his view usually the 
 cheerful one. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 57 
 
 It is good for the visitor to the Lake 
 region to spend considerable time in the 
 churches of Grasmere and Castle Rigg. Both 
 are so quiet, so simple, and unpretending that 
 they are most fitting places of worship for 
 the folk of the countryside. They seem, in a 
 way, the products of the soil. Yet, with all 
 its simplicity, how rich is the churchyard in 
 its possession of the dust of Wordsworth, 
 Hartley Coleridge, and Arthur Hugh 
 Clough, and how like to the manly poet him- 
 self is sturdy Grasmere church ; while, for 
 days after we had visited Castle Rigg, I 
 caught myself from time to time repeating 
 Canon Rawnsley's lines on the little build- 
 ing which is such a quiet ante-chapel to the 
 purple-green mountin towering above : 
 
 "And he who would Helvellyn's height assay 
 May join their company who found 
 Earth's beauty, made Life's inn a house of prayer, 
 And sped, refreshed of soul, upon their way." 
 
 Keswick is the most disappointing spot in 
 all this part of England. Nothing could be 
 more attractive than its surroundings, but 
 
5 8 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 the town itself is given over to the Philis- 
 tines. 
 
 If one could find a whitewashed cottage in 
 a nook of hills or on the shores of Derwent- 
 water, where he might withdraw from the 
 world and enjoy the beauties of sky, moun- 
 tain and lake, he might be both good and 
 happy. But, teased by the continual obtru- 
 sion of the commonplace, he fails, in Kes- 
 wick, to be either the one or the other. 
 
 Failing to discover the desired cottage, we 
 tarried only long enough for a pilgrimage to 
 Greta Hall and Crossthwaite Church, and a 
 tour of the lake. I had always desired to see 
 "how the water comes down at Lodore." 
 What there is of it comes down quite rapidly, 
 as the law of gravitation is not suspended in 
 this part of the country; but I shall always 
 have a grievance against Southey. He is 
 less accurate in his descriptions than Words- 
 worth, possibly because he is more versifier 
 and less poet. Still, the "Falls of Lodore" 
 and the "Journey to Moscow" have at times 
 given me much joy; so the grievance may 
 after a while be mitigated. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 59 
 
 After our tour of the lake, we sighed 
 more than ever for the cottage; and Prin- 
 cess, with truly regal lawlessness, even sug- 
 gested confiscating one or two whose ex- 
 teriors were more than commonly attractive. 
 From this high-handed proceeding, we were 
 deterred by fear of a collision with the British 
 Constitution. This alone might not have 
 sufficed, unsupported by the suspicion that 
 Uncle Samuel's government might not in- 
 cline to intervene and save us from the re- 
 sults of following our royal impulses. 
 
 The old sexton at Crossthwaite Church is 
 nearly as amusing as the venerable Mrs. 
 Baker who used to pilot visitors through 
 Anne Hathaway's cottage. He entertained 
 us hospitably for a summer afternoon. We 
 should have liked to bring him home with 
 us. This is a desire not often produced by 
 the conversation of custodians of churches; 
 but this old man was a choice specimen, and 
 we made much of him accordingly. May he 
 live to a still riper old age, and delight many 
 other traveler's by the sight of his pictur- 
 
60 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 esquely wrinkled face and the sound and 
 sense of his quaint observations. 
 
 A few days' sojourn at Keswick brings the 
 reader to a full understanding and sympathy 
 with Wordsworth's aversion to railroads. 
 Natheless, but for these much reviled means 
 of travel, pilgrims without overmuch scrip in 
 their purses, might be forced to content 
 themselves with knowing the lakes of Eng- 
 land through books alone. This would be 
 a hardship, indeed, for, among the places 
 that are quite as satisfactory as what the 
 poets have written about them, the Lake 
 Country holds a high rank. Is that because 
 we know it chiefly through the poets? The 
 question recalls Sir Philip Sydney's state- 
 ment that "of all writers under the sun, the 
 poet is least liar." 
 
 Possibly it is not the railroads themselves 
 that are to blame for the conditions com- 
 plained of at Keswick, but the desire of the 
 average man to turn everything to what he 
 is pleased to call "practical" uses. Popular 
 superstition and numerous foreign writers to 
 the contrary notwithstanding, this is not an 
 
IN ENGLAND. 61 
 
 exclusively American trait. Can it be pos- 
 sible that in us it is merely a manifestation 
 of characteristics derived from our numerous 
 lines of ancestry? 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 UCHFIEI*D AND DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 From Keswick, Miss Bradford and Helen 
 decided to go to Scotland, making a little 
 journey to the Burns country, the Scottish 
 lakes, Edinburgh, Melrose and Abbotsford. 
 When they began to talk of this plan, Prin- 
 cess and I wavered a little, for these are 
 places dear to our hearts ; and when we visit- 
 ed them, we were blessed with such perfect 
 weather that we thought all the brownies 
 must be favorable to our undertaking. This 
 pleasant belief lasted until we reached Ab- 
 botsford, when the drenching rains in which 
 we made our pilgrimage to the home of Scott, 
 and to Dryburgh and Melrose made us won- 
 der in what way we could have offended our 
 guardian spirits. 
 
 However, as we had come with the inten- 
 tion of devoting the summer to England, we 
 steeled our hearts against temptation, and, 
 turning a deaf ear to the voice of the charmer, 
 
IN ENGLAND. 63 
 
 prepared to carry out our original plan of 
 going, by way of Lichfield, to Warwick, 
 where our three friends were to rejoin us. 
 
 It is a pleasant experience to arrive at 
 Lichfield on the afternoon of a summer's 
 day; to eat supper in the dining-room of the 
 Swan Inn, all gay and sweet with roses, then 
 to be shown to a chamber opening off one of 
 the winding corridors; to sit by the open 
 window and write letters and dream till the 
 long twilight darkens into night; and, at 
 last, to climb into the high, canopied bed, 
 where one goes to sleep to the accompani- 
 ment of the sweet-toned cathedral chimes. 
 
 Whoever first bestowed upon the cathe- 
 dral of Lichfield the title of "Queen of the 
 English Cathedrals" was a person of taste; 
 and he who gave to her spires the name of 
 "Ladies of the Vale" was a poet. Smaller 
 than almost any other cathedral on the island, 
 less imposing in its position than most of the 
 others, yet, in the perfect harmony of its pro- 
 portions, the delicate grace of its outlines, 
 the richness of its carvings, the lofty sweeps 
 of its clustered pillars, and the spring of its 
 
64 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 vaulted roof, it has a beauty and charm un- 
 surpassed even by York, Lincoln, or Canter- 
 bury. 
 
 Princess being ill on one day of our stay 
 here, and preferring solitude to society, I 
 started out for an exploring expedition quite 
 alone. The ten o'clock service had begun 
 when I reached the Cathedral ; it was, there- 
 fore, too late for any overzealous church- 
 warden or beadle to compel me to sit within 
 the choir enclosure. Accordingly, I took a 
 chair near the door and soon forgot every- 
 thing in the beauty of the place. As before 
 mentioned, I find a cathedral 'service delight- 
 ful when I am not obliged to pay close at- 
 tention. On this morning, the roll of the 
 organ, the occasional sound of the chimes, 
 and the voices of unseen singers combined 
 to produce an effect harmonious, solemn, and 
 reverend. 
 
 After the close of the service, I moved over 
 toward a fine window in the north aisle. 
 Presently there came sweeping by a rosy- 
 faced, white-haired clergyman in full canon- 
 icals. Seeing me by the window, he stopped, 
 
o 
 
 V, 
 
 o 
 
 w 
 p 
 
 3 1 
 
IN ENGLAND. 65 
 
 saying in a rich, cheerful voice, 
 
 "Ah ! that's a good bit of glass. We have 
 some good glass here. Our best, of course, 
 is in the Lady Chapel. One gentleman, who 
 knows a good bit about glass, says it is the 
 finest in the world. Of course," smiling, 
 "that is saying a great deal ; but it is certain- 
 ly among the finest. Now there," pointing 
 to a window farthest east, "is some abomi- 
 nable stuff. I really think the choristers 
 should be allowed to take a shy at it." 
 
 I looked at the window and quite agreed 
 with the reverend gentleman in his judgment. 
 But I only said : 
 
 "No doubt they would appreciate the priv- 
 ilege." 
 
 His words recalled the fact that the chor- 
 isters, whose voices, soaring among the 
 arches of the roof, had suggested thoughts 
 of cherubim and seraphim before the Great 
 White Throne, were undoubtedly very hu- 
 man, with the same taste for "shying" char- 
 acteristic of boys who never wear vestments. 
 The clergyman smiled back at me, very 
 much, I thought, as though he would not ob- 
 
 5 
 
66 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 ject to being counted in with the choristers 
 when the attack on the obnoxious window 
 should begin. Then he told me about a visit 
 Ruskin had paid them, shortly after the Dean 
 and Chapter and other persons interested, 
 had put, near the entrance to the Chapter 
 House, a memorial window to an old verger 
 who had recently died after an unbroken 
 term of service of forty years and more. 
 Ruskin, wandering about the Cathedral, came 
 upon this window ; and, stopping before it, 
 said heartily, 
 
 "Ah ! there's a good bit of old glass." 
 After telling this story, over which he and 
 his colleagues had evidently been rejoicing 
 ever since the great man's visit, the friendly 
 clergyman wished me a pleasant stay in 
 Lichfield; and, bowing in courteous wise, 
 swept on. 
 
 This little incident made me feel quite at 
 home in the building ; very much, I imagine, 
 as one would feel after receiving the freedom 
 of a city in a gold box. Still I could not help 
 wondering a little how this benevolent eccle- 
 siastic happened to speak to me. Yet, re- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 67^ 
 
 membering how railroad officials and police- 
 men everywhere seem burdened with respon- 
 sibility about me, though I rarely ask them 
 questions; and how people in general are 
 possessed with an eager desire to bestow ad- 
 vice upon me, I decided that his behavior was 
 not so strange, after all. Besides, the canon, 
 prebendary, or whatever he was, seemed fond 
 of his cathedral, and was perhaps unwilling 
 that even one stray American should over- 
 look a pane of its exquisite glass. Indeed, 
 every one in the diocese may justly be proud 
 of the windows, some of the newer ones, even, 
 having a beauty of outline, a softness and 
 richness of tone and coloring that rival the 
 best of the old specimens. 
 
 Johnson is everywhere in the atmosphere 
 of Lichfield. On the wall of the south aisle 
 of the Cathedral is a medallion to his mem- 
 ory, side by side with another to his pupil and 
 comrade, Garrick. 
 
 For a little time, however, the memory of 
 the eighteenth century's Dictator of Letters 
 is eclipsed by the interest that every one 
 must feel in Chantry's statue of "The Sleep- 
 
68 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 ing Children." Carved in creamy marble, to 
 which the softened light from the windows 
 gives a rosy tinge, lie the figures of two girls 
 asleep in each other's arms. One is possibly 
 fifteen years of age; the other, about seven 
 years younger. They are in the bloom of 
 health, and full of the elastic grace of youth. 
 So easy and natural are the positions that it 
 is difficult to realize that a touch or a word 
 will not awaken the sleepers. 
 
 Out in the market place stands the colossal 
 statue of Dr. Johnson. It does not, despite 
 its size, seem pretentious. It is fitting that 
 everything connected with this man should 
 be on a grand scale. He dominates his na- 
 tive town to this day as he dominated his 
 own time, poor, homely, awkward, yet a 
 king by right divine, and by the true royalty 
 of mind and character. 
 
 Here are the house where Johnson was 
 born, the walks he took, the haunts he loved, 
 the final resting-place of his parents. Even 
 Uttoxeter, the thriving market-town of the 
 vicinity in his boyhood, is now remembered 
 because of the penance to which Johnson, the 
 
IN ENGLAND. 69 
 
 scholar subjected himself because of the sin 
 of omission of Samuel, the disobedient son. 
 
 Johnson is admirable for his force of in- 
 tellect and character, but he is lovable for the 
 tenderness of heart that such self-discipline 
 reveals. It speaks well, too, for the father 
 that such a son should have so revered his 
 memory and so atoned for a lack of filial obe- 
 dience. 
 
 The old church on the hill, under the shade 
 of the solemn yews, where Johnson's parents 
 lie buried, is an attractive spot for quiet medi- 
 tation. The path that leads to it, along quiet 
 country roads bordered by hedge-rows, is an 
 allurement in itself; and the lanes and paths 
 across the fields that bring one back, by way 
 of St. Chad's church and well, to the rear 
 of the Cathedral close, would be irresistible 
 to a person who is not afraid of cows. 
 
 The presence of cows, in force, in the fields 
 through which so many charming pathways 
 lead to most desirable places, is the chief 
 drawback to pedestrian explorations in Eng- 
 land. When I have been beguiled, persuad- 
 ed, or driven into crossing one of those fields 
 
70 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 on foot, the beauty of the landscape is spoil- 
 ed by my agonies of fear, and I cry out with 
 the Psalmist, 
 
 "Strong bulls of Bashan have compassed 
 me around." 
 
 Princess always declares that the cattle in 
 the fields are mere harmless bossies, else they 
 would not be there; a statement which cer- 
 tainly looks reasonable. But that makes no 
 difference to me; on this subject, as on one 
 or two others, I am not amenable to reason. 
 
 The cows were the sole blots on the land- 
 scape in Litchfield, but they were numerous. 
 Nevertheless, I should be willing to endure 
 the torture again for the sake of the joy. 
 Having said this, I refrain from the use of 
 superlatives. 
 
 There are other things besides the John- 
 son relics and memorials that combine to give 
 Lichfield an antique flavor. Indeed, many of 
 the houses and streets are far older than 
 Johnson's time, and might, could they speak, 
 tell tales of the hiding of St. Chad's bones ; 
 the conference of Stanley and Richmond on 
 the eve of Bosworth field; and the siege of 
 
IN ENGLAND. 71 
 
 the town by the man whom Scott, following 
 a local historian, calls "The fanatic Brook." 
 
 Here is the George Inn, the scene of Far- 
 quhar's comedy, "The Beaux Stratagem," for 
 which the rooms of the old inn would even 
 now afford a fairly adequate setting. 
 
 Unless one looks toward the railway sta- 
 tion at the far end of the town, he may quite 
 easily believe himself a contemporary of 
 Johnson, Garrick, Sheridan, Burke, and the 
 rest of the company who absorbed so much 
 tea — and other liquids — at various inns and 
 ale houses, besides what was provided them 
 in Mrs. Thrale's parlors and ordered by them 
 in their own lodgings. Yet, for the most 
 part, they laid about them right lustily and 
 smote many 
 
 "Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimaeras dire," 
 
 the moral and social evils that beset 
 their time. They were not over-dainty; not 
 always refined, according to our standards; 
 their dress left much to be desired in neat- 
 ness, and their manners in gentleness; but 
 they were sturdy men, of the sound-hearted 
 
72 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 middle class, and they left the world better 
 than they found it. Who of us can lay claim 
 to higher praises? 
 
 When one calls up the group in some one 
 or other of their favorite haunts, and sees a 
 canny Scott among these burly Englishmen 
 and witty Irishmen, one asks himself, how 
 this man happens to have strayed into this 
 particular company. But, in time, one realizes 
 that the Scot believes he has a mission, he 
 was born to chronicle the sayings and doings 
 of a greater than himself; and he proves his 
 faith by his works, the result being that we 
 read with eagerness Boswell's story of John- 
 son's life, and neglect the ponderous works 
 which the Doctor himself produced so con- 
 scientiously, and which colored the writings 
 of nearly every other man of his time who 
 wrote in English on either side of the At- 
 lantic. We find the true Johnsonian flavor, 
 not only in the writings and speeches of 
 Burke and his colleagues in Parliament and 
 Ministry, but in the debates of the Continent- 
 al Congress and the State papers of George 
 Washington. King George might be flouted 
 
IN ENGLAND. 73 
 
 by his disaffected colonies ; but King Samuel, 
 despite his Toryism, was consciously or un- 
 consciously admired and imitated in Massa- 
 chusetts and Virginia. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 in Shakespeare's country. 
 
 We resolved not to hasten through the 
 Warwickshire district, but to take plenty of 
 time to see all the interesting spots in the 
 country of Shakespeare and George Eliot. 
 
 Accordingly, we settled ourselves at "The 
 Dale," a quiet inn at Warwick, and, with this 
 as a base of supplies, made raids into the sur- 
 rounding region. We loitered about the 
 quaint old town; ate luncheons and teas in 
 queer little restaurants; visited the Castle, 
 the churches, and Leicester's hospital ; traced 
 out the line of the old wall ; made excursions 
 on foot, by tram or by rail, to Leamington, 
 Stratford, Coventry, Kenilworth, and Rugby ; 
 and were quite sure all the time that no one 
 had ever enjoyed Warwickshire as we were 
 enjoying it. It is much to know one's bless- 
 ings ere they take their flight. 
 
 Warwick is a bit of the sixteenth century 
 surviving through three hundred years of 
 
IN ENGLAND. 75 
 
 change. When, on coming from the station, 
 one has passed the East Gate, with its tiny 
 chapel atop, it is necessary to revise one's 
 systems of measurement, and standards of 
 estimate. The long street that winds, bor- 
 dered by fragrant lime-trees, from the East 
 Gate of Warwick to smart, pretentious, yet 
 beautiful, Leamington, is trying very hard to 
 shake off its Elizabethan trappings and be- 
 come truly modern. One kindly man, a coun- 
 cillor and merchant of the town, said, with a 
 smile dimpling his rosy old face, 
 
 "H'an h'artist told me once that h'every 
 corner in Warwick was a picture ; an' 'e rated 
 me soundly for tearin' down my three 'un- 
 dred years h'old shop h'and buildin' a new 
 one with plate-glass windows. But h'lm no 
 h'artist; these picturesque h'old 'aouses is 
 dark an' stuffy; h'and h'l don't see h'as well 
 h'as h'l did once; so, in my h'old h'age, I 
 want more h'air h'and light." 
 
 Thus it will doubtless come to pass in time, 
 that most of the old houses will disappear; 
 and Warwick will become modern, hygienic, 
 and — no, it can never be ugly. Meanwhile, 
 
76 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 we are glad to have anticipated the arrival of 
 progress. 
 
 The old home of Walter Savage Landor, 
 just outside the city wall, is now used for the 
 Girls' High School. With difficulty, we gain- 
 ed admission to this seat of learning. We 
 were given chairs in the office of the Head 
 Mistress, and requested to wait until the close 
 of a recitation that she was conducting, when 
 she would "be very pleased" to show us the 
 school. So we waited patiently, like Mary's 
 little lamb, until the lady, young, capable, 
 alert, appeared. She greeted us doubtfully, 
 and then offered to conduct us through the 
 building. 
 
 We followed her from room to room, and 
 saw girls of all sizes, from the class prepar- 
 ing for University examinations to the so- 
 called Kintergarten. When the door into 
 a given room was opened and we were ush- 
 ered in, all activity was suspended ; the Head 
 Mistress inquired what work was in progress, 
 and was answered "Botany," "Algebra," or 
 "Numbers," as the case might be ; we gazed 
 for a moment and then moved solemnly on. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 77 
 
 We were shown the school hall ; the cloak- 
 rooms, occupying the interior of the quaint 
 Elizabethan house between the Landor house 
 and the city gate ; the gardens, and the tennis 
 grounds; but not one syllable of recitation 
 did we hear. 
 
 The teachers, like the Head Mistress, ap- 
 peared alert and intelligent ; the girls were 
 the usual type of well-fed, slow-moving Eng- 
 lish maidens, with heavy masses of hair fall- 
 ing over their shoulders. The children point- 
 ed out as making up the Kindergarten class 
 were much older than those found in Ameri- 
 can Kindergartens; and seated at ordinary 
 desks, were busy with books and slates as 
 though they had been in school for three or 
 four years. 
 
 All the girls looked contented and healthy, 
 but we had no means of determining their 
 intellectual status, and we went away wonder- 
 ing why those large infants were supposed 
 to make up a Kindergarten, and why a school 
 of so many grades should be called a High 
 School. 
 
 Later on, in London, we visited a so-called 
 
78 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 college which numbered among its pupils 
 boys and girls of all ages, from tiny tots just 
 beginning to read, to tall lads choosing be- 
 tween Cambridge and Oxford. It was sim- 
 ply a very good private school; and we de- 
 cided that the word college must be as elastic 
 in England as it is said to be in our own 
 country. 
 
 We decided to make a visit to Coventry be- 
 fore the others came; because, as Princess 
 remarked, "If it's half as interesting as I'm 
 prepared to find it, we shall wish to go more 
 than once, and can run over with the others 
 when they come." 
 
 Princess was not disappointed in Coven- 
 try, whcih is one of the most interesting 
 towns in the kingdom. London is the im- 
 perial city; Bristol, the Queen City; and 
 Coventry, the Prince's Chamber. Since Ed- 
 ward, the Black Prince, every Prince of 
 Wales has been feasted in the Guild Hall, and 
 otherwise entertained by the Mayor and Cor- 
 poration, a fact on which the inhabitants of 
 Coventry plume themselves not a little. 
 
 We spent a long delightful day at Coven- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 79 
 
 try; and, later, repeated the visit; but the 
 first day was so full of pleasant experiences 
 that it deserves to be considered by itself. 
 It was a little incongruous to ride atop of an 
 electric tram up the long, crooked street, and 
 see the effigy of Peeping Tom looking down 
 upon this modern means of conveyance in the 
 same indifferent manner that he has looked 
 upon everything else in this street for several 
 centuries past; and will, we trust, for cen- 
 turies to come. 
 
 Our first shrine was the church of St. 
 Michael, which has one of the "three spires 
 of Coventry." This proved to be a most for- 
 tunate choice; for here we met with the re- 
 ward of disinterested merit. Virtue may be 
 its own reward, but there are others that 
 blend with it harmoniously. Our good for- 
 tune came in this wise. We had gone to St. 
 Michael's partly because we were attracted 
 by the beauty of its spire, partly because of 
 its connection with the old Mystery Plays. 
 We were trying to revive for ourselves some 
 old spectacle of bygone days, punctuating 
 our more connected remarks with ejacula- 
 
80 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 tions on the beauty of the warm, brilliant, yet 
 softened light, that poured through the win- 
 dows, when our raptures were overheard by 
 one of the church wardens to whom they 
 seemed very satisfactory. Accordingly, he 
 begged permission to show us some better 
 points of view, whence we might enjoy still 
 more the mellow glory of the golden light. 
 
 This done, the good gentleman must show 
 us the Guild Hall, a necessity to which we 
 readily submitted. We found the Hall most 
 attractive. There was an immense banquet 
 room, ovens that looked as if they might be 
 used for roasting elephants, historical por- 
 traits, tapestry, and a painting and a statue of 
 the obedient, but determined, Lady Godiva. 
 Was it not that tyrannical old husband of 
 hers who was the only person besides the king 
 to see the angel who came to give to Edward 
 the Confessor the divine directions as to the 
 building of Westminster Abbey. Just why 
 such a grumpy individual should have been so 
 favored, it is hard to understand. Possibly 
 he was possessed of virtues not mentioned by 
 the chroniclers. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 81 
 
 As we came out of the Guild Hall our at- 
 tention was called to an old house hard by, 
 whose age-blackened timbers showed, here 
 and there among the carven grape-vines, the 
 familiar Tudor rose. 
 
 "That," said our unknown benefactor, "was, 
 in the fifteenth century, the favorite rallying- 
 place of the Lancastrians of these parts ; for, 
 you must know, Coventry has always been 
 strongly Lancastrian; it was here that Henry 
 VII held court for a short time after the 
 battle of Bosworth Field had made him King 
 of England." 
 
 We lent attentive ears to this discourse ; 
 because all disciples of Shakespeare are per- 
 force Lancastrians, especially while they are 
 in Will's own country. 
 
 Margaret of Anjou was received here after 
 her defeat at Tewksbury ; and one hears more 
 kindly mention of the fiery queen in Coven- 
 try than elsewhere in England. Did Coven- 
 try love Margaret because of what the city 
 did for the queen, or because she, harassed, 
 insulted, and defied elsewhere, here given re- 
 fuge and comfort, relaxed somewhat of her 
 
82 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 haughty pride, and showed herself what, de- 
 spite her faults, she undoubtedly was when 
 she chose to be, a charming woman, loyal to 
 the rights of her family; driven to play the 
 man's part by the inefficiency of her father, 
 the indecision of her husband, the youth of 
 her son? 
 
 Much of Margaret's fierceness was doubt- 
 less due to her being placed in a false posi- 
 tion. She, a princess, the heroine of trouba- 
 dours and minstrels, the star of the court of 
 Provence, had married a king and was en- 
 titled to the privileges and immunities of 
 royalty; but she was driven by' stress of cir- 
 cumstances to adopt the role of a leader of 
 armies and a ruler of men, a role for which, 
 half-consciously only, she felt herself unfit- 
 ted; hence her irritability, her outbursts of 
 rage, her harshness and arrogance. 
 
 This old house before which we paused to 
 listen and admire, deserves the commenda- 
 tion that some appreciative person has be- 
 stowed upon Ford's hospital for old women 
 in a narrow street hard by: 
 
 "It is perfect of its kind, and ought to be 
 kept under a glass case," 
 
IN ENGLAND. 83 
 
 In that charmed half-day, our guide went 
 with us from one delightful nook of old Cov- 
 entry to another fascinating spot. He showed 
 us the route of the long-maintained annual 
 procession in honor of Lady Godiva, starting 
 from the Guild Hall and winding through the 
 most ancient of the crooked streets. He re- 
 marked casually of one street that it was 
 "quite modern, only about six hundred years 
 old, in fact." 
 
 He also told us that the effigy of Peeping 
 Tom, is in reality an ancient wooden statue of 
 St. George, unearthed once upon a time dur- 
 ing some "restorations," and changed as to 
 name, because Peeping Tom was locally more 
 interesting (and profitable) than the hero of 
 the dragon-legend. The change is of no par- 
 ticular consequence, the average visitor is 
 not, as a rule, too familiar with the features of 
 either the saint or the sinner in question ; and 
 the wooden image serves very well to mark 
 the spot where the Tom of tradition is said 
 to have met the punishment due his imperti- 
 nent curiosity. 
 
 Singular, is it not, that a man should be 
 
84 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 held up to obloquy for nigh a thousand years 
 for giving way to his curiosity, a weakness 
 popularly supposed to belong exclusively to 
 women? Undoubtedly this is a triumph of 
 true psychology over age-old misrepresenta- 
 tion. 
 
 As we walked down the street leading to 
 St. Mary's church, built by Isabella, "the she- 
 wolf of France," to expiate the murder of Ed- 
 ward II, our guide pointed out to us the 
 Bull's Head Inn, where Mary Stuart was 
 twice imprisoned. Every place gains an add- 
 ed interest from even a slight connection 
 with the unfortunate princess who possessed 
 such power for good and evil and such un- 
 failing charm. 
 
 It is reported that when Mary was sent 
 hither, her royal cousin sent with her the 
 message : 
 
 "Keep her straitly; and let no man have 
 speech with her, lest she undo him." 
 
 The words are characteristic, and show 
 Elizabeth's perfect understanding of the sit- 
 uation. 
 
 Nearly opposite the Bull's Head stands the 
 
IN ENGLAND. 85 
 
 oldest Independent church now remaining 
 in England. 
 
 Others were built before this one, but it 
 has defied the passage of time and the changes 
 in creed and sentiment for nearly three cen- 
 turies. It is a plain, rather ugly building, 
 with none of the quaintness that characterizes 
 most of its neighbors ; yet it has a certain dig- 
 nity and interest because of the mighty cur- 
 rent of thought and action whose humble be- 
 ginnings it commemorates. 
 
 Down a narrow street, branching off near 
 the church, stands the more than modest 
 house in which Ellen Terry first opened her 
 eyes upon this world's stage. The company 
 to which her parents belonged — for she 
 comes to her art by right of inheritance — 
 was playing in Coventry when she was born ; 
 and so the town adds one more item to its list 
 of claims upon the attention of the traveler. 
 
 At last, at the far end of the rambling 
 street, we came to St. Mary's Church, a build- 
 ing which enjoys the distinction of having all 
 its walls slightly out of plumb and of being, 
 in consequence, entirely guiltless of right an- 
 
86 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 gles. In the chapel of St. John the Baptist, 
 masses were said during three hundred years 
 for the repose of the soul of Edward II, the 
 said masses being paid for out of a fund pro- 
 vided by his widow, who had been the chief 
 agent in procuring his premature departure 
 from this earthly life. 
 
 Isabella behaved handsomely, according to 
 her light; she had removed a superfluous hus- 
 band from her own path, thereby depriving 
 him of an earthly crown and kingdom ; but 
 she did her best, as she thought, to secure 
 for him an abundant entrance into the 
 kingdom of heaven. There were conveni- 
 ences about the beliefs of those days, afford- 
 ing pleasant, and apparently safe, by-paths 
 to the accomplishment of one's desires, even 
 when these were in direct opposition to the 
 restraints imposed by the Decalogue, and the 
 law of the land. 
 
 The benevolent churchwarden who spent 
 the forenoon in helping us to find the antiqui- 
 ties of the town, and whom we had begun to 
 suspect of being an incarnation of the tutelary 
 deity of the city, was, we learned later in the 
 
IN ENGLAND. 87 
 
 day, an archaeologist of note, and an F. R. S. 
 Shortly before our visit, he had shown to that 
 very fortunate man, the Prince of Wales, all 
 the sights of Coventry. This information 
 was a trifle overwhelming, at first; but then, 
 I reflected, I was traveling with a Princess, 
 entitled to all the royal honors ; besides, I 
 don't believe H. R. H. enjoyed it a bit more, 
 if as much, as we pilgrims from "a ferre coun- 
 tree." 
 
 The good gentleman rounded out his half- 
 day's work by directing us to a most excellent 
 inn for our luncheon; this last kind deed 
 showed that his mind was not entirely absorb- 
 ed by the middle ages. 
 
 Having saturated ourselves with Old Cov- 
 entry in the forenoon, we decided to devote 
 the afternoon to seeking out all possible 
 traces of George Eliot. Accordingly, we took 
 a tram, in hope of finding Rose Hill Cottage, 
 the home of the Brays. When the guard 
 came to collect our fares, we told him where 
 we wished to go, in order that he might tell 
 us how much to pay. He shook his head in 
 
88 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 bewilderment, he knew no such place. Prin- 
 cess and I glanced at each other, wondering 
 what to do; whereupon, a gentleman across 
 the aisle said: 
 
 "Collect the same fare from the ladies as 
 from me; Rose Hill Cottage is across the 
 way from my house ; I'll show them how to 
 find it." 
 
 Good fortune still attended us, then. We 
 settled back upon the bench, and looked with 
 interest at the villas that we were passing. 
 
 At length the tram stopped; the guard 
 signed us to alight; we obeyed orders, and 
 the gentleman who had come to our rescue 
 stood awaiting us. He said, smilingly, "This 
 way ladies, it is only a step." 
 
 We followed him along the shaded road, 
 until stopping at a gate opening into a little 
 park, he said, indicating a house opposite : 
 
 "There it is, the white cottage with the 
 high fence, and trees all about." 
 
 We expressed our hearty thanks, and 
 crossed the street. We peered through the 
 palings ; we stood on tiptoe and looked over 
 the fences; and at last gathered courage to 
 
IN ENGLAND. 89 
 
 ring the bell, and ask the pretty maid who re- 
 sponded to the summons, whether two stran- 
 gers from America would be permitted to see 
 the grounds. 
 
 She courteously invited us in while she 
 made inquiries ; and, giving us seats, tripped 
 away, to be presently replaced by the house- 
 keeper, who expressed Mrs. Bray's regrets 
 at not being able to see us in person, but add- 
 ed that she herself was instructed to show us 
 the house and grounds. 
 
 The impression that we had received in the 
 morning, and that was destined to receive 
 further confirmation later on, was deepened 
 now, namely: that one of the first duties of 
 every inhabitant of Coventry is to obey the 
 apostolic injunction concerning the entertain- 
 ment of strangers. Whether angels have 
 ever been found among the city's visitors, I 
 cannot say. This I know, Princess and my- 
 self were, on that summer afternoon, as an- 
 gelic as we knew how to be. 
 
 The most attractive part of Mrs. Bray's 
 cottage was the morning room, a large piazza 
 walled in with glass, in order that all the sun's 
 
9 o PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 rays might be retained for the mistress whose 
 circulation was growing a little sluggish. 
 
 In this room were gathered mementoes of 
 the thinkers of her day whom Mrs. Bray had 
 counted among her friends. These took 
 the form of autograph manuscripts, por- 
 traits, busts and gifts of books from their 
 authors. Here the good lady might sit in the 
 evening of life, and commune with the spirits 
 of departed great ones at their best and high- 
 est. 
 
 We felt doubtful about making an effort to 
 see more of the Evans house in the Foleshill 
 Road than was visible from the highway ; but 
 Mrs. Bray's housekeeper urged. 
 
 "O, by all means, ladies, ask to see the 
 garden. Permission to do that is always 
 given cheerfully." 
 
 Thus encouraged, we set forth, going a 
 part of the way on the top of a tram, and 
 walking the remainder of the distance along 
 the beautiful road. At length we reached the 
 house ; and, ringing at the side door, prof- 
 fered our humble request to the smart maid 
 who answered our summons. This person- 
 
IN ENGLAND. gt 
 
 age left us standing outside "Wile she went 
 to h'ahsk." 
 
 To us presently came the mistress of the 
 house, far less imposing and "uppish" than 
 her domestic. She was, in fact, a most kindly 
 and cordial lady, who would not listen to 
 such a thing as our going away with merely 
 a sight of the garden. She herself conducted 
 us over the house, carefully noting the addi- 
 tion made since the end of the Evans occu- 
 pation. She showed us George Eliot's own 
 room, and gave us sprigs from the holly tree 
 under the window near which she used to sit 
 at her writing. The lady even went with us 
 over the lawn and gardens, to our expres- 
 sions of gratitude returning the gracious an- 
 swer : 
 
 "O, please don't mention it; I visited 
 America the year of the Columbian exposi- 
 tion ; and every one was so kind to me, that 
 1 made a vow to return the kindness to every 
 American who should come in my way." 
 
 At last, we dragged our reluctant feet out 
 of the beautiful gardens, and betook our- 
 selves by tram and cab to Griff House, near 
 
92 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 Nuneaton, the childhood home of the creator 
 of Tom and Maggie. The people who occu- 
 py this house evidently did not come over to 
 the Columbian exposition, for they do not ad- 
 mit visitors to their home. Consequently, 
 we were obliged to content ourselves with 
 wandering about the grounds, and trying to 
 determine from an exterior view, the proba- 
 ble location of the attic in which little Mary 
 Ann Evans used to subject her own wooden 
 doll to the treatment which she describes 
 Maggie Tulliver as inflicting upon her inani- 
 mate scapegoat. 
 
 A strange, unhappy girlhood, this of Mar- 
 ian Evans, must have been. Isolated by her 
 very genius from real association with the 
 persons who surrounded her, and doubtless 
 by them accounted "queer," she lived alone 
 with her thoughts and emotions, her mind a 
 highly sensitized plate whereon the life she 
 witnessed left indelible impressions. Her 
 analysis of the thoughts and emotions of her 
 rustic neighbors in her first and greatest 
 novels, shows how closely and sympathetic- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 93 
 
 ally she studied them, although they had 
 but small understanding of her. 
 
 But I am roused from the reflections by the 
 voice of my mentor, the Princess, asking 
 whether it is my intention to return to Cov- 
 entry, and thence to Warwick this afternoon, 
 or to spend the night in the garden of Griff 
 House. She gives point and emphasis to her 
 questions by reminding me that our cab is 
 hired by the hour. 
 
 Moved by the tone of her voice, as well as 
 by her thrifty suggestion, I bid farewell to 
 Griff House, and we set our faces once more 
 toward Coventry. 
 
 Arrived at the station, we learn that the 
 train is late. I generously refrain from re- 
 marking to Princess that we might have staid 
 half an hour longer at Griff House. To this 
 silence I am partly held by the reflection that 
 my fellow traveler would reply : 
 
 "Of, if we had staid, such is the perversity 
 of trains that this one would have been on 
 time." 
 
 Presently, seeing my uneasiness, Princess 
 observes ; 
 
94 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 "There are two hospitals here, two 
 churches — the other 'spires' — and a bicycle 
 factory. You might visit some of those while 
 we wait." 
 
 Whereto I respond : 
 
 "We are coming again for the hospitals 
 and churches. As for bicycle factories, they 
 abound in Dayton, Ohio, and other parts of 
 Uncle Samuel's country, where George Eliot, 
 Peeping Tom and Lady Godiva never lived, 
 nor Isabella of the uneasy conscience built 
 churches to atone -for her crimes. Bicycle 
 factories in Coventry have no attractions for 
 me." 
 
 After a time, Princess goes for a solitary 
 stroll along the platform ; she returns soon, 
 wearing a most grim and forbidding expres- 
 sion upon her usually vivacious face. She 
 volunteers no explanation. I ask for none, 
 but resolve that I, too, will promenade and 
 thereby, possibly, learn something interest- 
 ing. 
 
 As I move down the long platform, my 
 eye is caught by the pretty white-capped 
 maids at the refreshment stands. The after- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 95 
 
 noon is warm, and the maids look refresh- 
 ingly cool and neat. We have thus far in our 
 wanderings absorbed various strange and un- 
 appetizing liquids poured out for us in re- 
 sponse to our request for lemonade. A sud- 
 den inspiration seizes me at sight of the fine- 
 looking lemons piled up on the tables. I 
 cheerfully approach the door and say to the 
 white-capped Hebe : 
 
 "One lemon-squash, please." 
 
 She perpetrates the usual "Thank you-ou- 
 ou," with the inevitable drawl and the mad- 
 dening upward slide, squeezes the juice of 
 half an enormous lemon into a glass of water, 
 with 
 
 "Four-pence, please ; thank you-ou," and 
 hies her away to supply the wants of another 
 thirsty traveler. 
 
 With pleasing anticipations of "h'American 
 lemonade," I raise the glass to my mouth ; 
 but this is, sometimes, a disappointing world ; 
 there is no sugar in the stuff, and the girl is 
 beyond reach, and evidently intends to re- 
 main there ; she is coquetting with a man in 
 tweeds, and evidently finds that more inter- 
 
96 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 csting than looking after my prosaic necessi- 
 ties. I swallow enough of the acid to relieve 
 my thirst; try to comfort myself with the 
 thought that lemon juice and water is a good 
 corrective for biliousness ; set the glass down 
 rather hard; and then return to my com- 
 rade, wearing an expression as unpleasant as 
 her own had been shortly before. 
 
 As soon as she catches sight of my face, 
 that young woman, enlightened by experi- 
 ence, cries out : 
 
 "Ah, you have been trying a lemon- 
 squash !" 
 
 "Yes, for my sins," I reply with a groan; 
 and then we both laugh, with the prolonged 
 laughter that comes of utter exhaustion, and 
 that in some way relieves the nervous tension 
 and makes us feel better. 
 
 When we reach our own room at the Dale, 
 we add another chapter to our history of 
 "lemonade as she is drunk" in the British 
 Isles; and then go to bed to dream of fas- 
 cinating old houses, churches and winding 
 streets whose guardian angels are kindly folk 
 governed by a desire to make the stranger 
 
IN ENGLAND. 97 
 
 happy by helping him to find everything he 
 most desires to see. 
 
 The next day was the one set for the arri- 
 val of Miss Bradford and Helen ; so we went 
 to the station to meet them. In my sur- 
 prise at finding Ned with them — Princess did 
 not seem at all astonished — and the inter- 
 change of questions and explanations, so 
 much time was consumed, that when we tried 
 to find a cab, the last one had disappeared. 
 
 "You see mum," explained the lame old 
 man who seemed the presiding-genius of the 
 place. "So many h'Americans came h'in h'on 
 this train that they've swallowed h'every cab 
 h'about the place." 
 
 So we were fain to content ourselves with 
 engaging a boy to bring the baggage to the 
 hotel in a hand-cart, while we ourselves went 
 thither on foot. 
 
 Helen and I walked on together, while Ned 
 escorted Miss Bradford and Princess. 
 
 "Now, tell me," I said, when we were fair- 
 ly started, "where you found Ned. I haven't 
 this matter cleared up yet." 
 
 "We had been in Edinburgh two days," 
 
 7 
 
98 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 replied Helen, "when Mr. Andrus surprised 
 us by walking into the hotel dining-room, 
 just after we had sat down to dinner. When 
 he saw us, he asked if he might take a vacant 
 seat near, and Auntie said, 'O, certainly.' We 
 were very glad to see him, and he made the 
 rest of the journey much easier for us inex- 
 perienced travelers." 
 
 Just then I heard Miss Bradford's voice 
 behind me, saying: 
 
 "So fortunate, was it not, that Mr. Andrus 
 should have "happened to come to the Old 
 Waverly, too? You have no idea what a 
 help he has been." 
 
 "O, when people are traveling about this 
 little island, they are bound to run against 
 each other more or less," commented Prin- 
 cess ; and something revealed to me that she 
 had played some part in bringing about this 
 particular coincidence. "And I'm sure Ned 
 ought to know how to make himself useful; 
 Peregrina and I have done our best to disci- 
 pline him." 
 
 "That is true," responded Ned heartily. "I 
 cannot complain, with any show of justice, 
 
IN ENGLAND. 99 
 
 that my cousins have ever neglected me in 
 any way." 
 
 I could detect the same tone of suppressed 
 mischief in his voice that I had before re- 
 marked in the tones of the Princess. I 
 glanced at Helen ; she did not return my look 
 directly; but I could see a glimmer of fun 
 under her long dark lashes, and a faint quiver 
 in the dimples about her mouth. So I was 
 sure that my suspicions had been correct, and 
 that Princess had been assisting the fates a 
 little by means of the royal mails. 
 
 Our three friends enjoyed the Dale as 
 much as we did, and found our hostess, a 
 timid little creature whom Helen christened 
 "the startled fawn," as attentive to their 
 wishes and careful of their comforts as any 
 one could be. Even Miss Bradford expressed 
 her lofty satisfaction. 
 
 We all went together to St. Mary's Church, 
 whose chief attraction is beautiful Beau- 
 champ chapel, where are buried Robert, Earl 
 of Leicester, — Lettice, his wife, and the "no- 
 ble imp" their son. The crypt of the church 
 is also interesting, chiefly because it contains 
 
 Lore. 
 
ioo PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 a ducking-stool, once used as a means of dis- 
 cipline for the good dames of Warwick when 
 they showed themselves too glib and shrill 
 of tongue. I wondered what befell the men 
 in like circumstances ; and Ned expressed his 
 intention of having one or two instruments 
 made after that model for the benefit of cer- 
 tain politicians in his home ward. 
 
 There is a set of chimes in St. Mary's tower, 
 which plays a different tune for every day in 
 the week. At midnight, the tune for the clos- 
 ing day is played, followed immediately by 
 that which is to gladden the ears of the inhab- 
 itant of Warwick and the stranger within his 
 gates during the next twenty-four hours. 
 There is something wrong with the machin- 
 ery, so that, in places, the time is quite pe- 
 culiar, and occasionally one or two notes fail 
 to sound. The effect of this singular be- 
 havior on the part of the bells is simply mad- 
 dening when one is trying to go to sleep after 
 a hard day's work. Princess and I amused 
 ourselves in the still watches of the night, try- 
 ing to imagine why any one had ever wished 
 for a set of chimes that rang every quarter- 
 
IN ENGLAND. lot 
 
 hour seven days in the week, fifty-two weeks 
 in the year, for century after century. 
 
 One morning at the breakfast table Helen 
 propounded the theory that the purpose of 
 the contrivance must have been to prevent 
 people from sleeping too soundly, at a period 
 when the devout were expected to observe 
 primes and matins. 
 
 "It would take something more than 
 chimes to keep the people of this town 
 awake," objected Ned. "It's my opinion that 
 the machine was devised as a penance for 
 monks who were too fond of the profane art 
 of music. It would certainly have been a suf- 
 ficiently severe penalty for most sins." 
 
 We did not care much for the service at St. 
 Mary's on week days. The congregation was 
 small and seemed indifferent, and the clergy- 
 man had a voice that should have been a bar 
 to his ordination. 
 
 We did enjoy dropping in occasionally at 
 the picturesque and quiet old church of St. 
 Nicholas for the unpretentious reading of 
 morning prayers; and, on Sunday, we found 
 a dissenting chapel, where a simple and prac- 
 
102 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 tical sermon was preached, and the singing 
 reminded us of the efforts of country choirs 
 in our own beloved land. 
 
 One of the most attractive places in War- 
 wick is Leicester's Hospital. Nothing else 
 can give the visitor the concentrated flavor 
 of the town, like this home for disabled sol- 
 diers. The building dates from the four- 
 teenth century; and was, therefore, about 
 two hundred years old when it was ceded to 
 our ancient enemy, Robert Dudley, for the 
 housing of a hospital that he was minded to 
 found. 
 
 Among all the old houses that'give kindly 
 greeting from every corner and by street of 
 Warwick, none are so beautiful as this group, 
 standing in the friendly shadow of the west 
 gate. There is a greater number of curious 
 gables, and all the beams and projecting bits 
 of wood are more elaborately carved here 
 than elsewhere in the town. Here, too, are 
 displayed the coats of arms of the numerous 
 patrons of the institution. Conspicuous 
 among them are the bear-and-ragged-staff of 
 the Nevilles and the Dudleys, and Sidney's 
 
IN ENGLAND. 103 
 
 rather formidable porcupine. It is hard to 
 connect this grotesque and bristling animal 
 with the chivalrous, intellectual, and efficient 
 gentleman who sparkled as the chief jewel of 
 Elizabeth's dominions. But most of us re- 
 ceive something undesirable from our ances- 
 tors ; and Sidney was fortunate, if all the dis- 
 agreeable things connected with his forebears 
 were found in this cognizance of the hedge- 
 hog. 
 
 The brother who showed us about was 
 quite as interesting as the place itself, and a 
 fitting guide to its beauties and mysteries. 
 For a long period he served his queen in her 
 armies, having been upwards of twenty years 
 in India. For twenty-six years he had dwelt 
 in the hospital, daily growing prouder of his 
 position, its dignities, and privileges. He in- 
 formed us with a manner that conveyed the 
 impression that nothing short of a prostra- 
 tion on our part would do justice to the an- 
 nouncement that he had, shortly before, "'ad 
 the h'onor h'of showin' 'is Royal 'ighness the 
 Prince h'of Wales h'over the 'aouse an' 
 graounds." 
 
io 4 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 Fortunate Prince of Wales ! How delight- 
 ful it must be to create happiness for such 
 numbers of people, merely by letting them 
 'gaze when you pass by, or better still, open 
 a door for you. When all is said, royalty has 
 its uses. 
 
 The old garden is divided into long strips, 
 each assigned to a brother who cultivates it 
 according to his own fancy. Each strip con- 
 tains potatoes, vegetables, and various old- 
 fashioned flowers, all growing harmoniously, 
 side by side. 
 
 Between the brothers' garden and the 
 court, stands a vase, a milometer, an exqui- 
 site piece of creamy white stone, with the 
 usual lotus and the wavy lines representing 
 the waters of the Nile. Beside this patriarch 
 among vases, the great one from Hadrian's 
 villa which is to be seen at the castle, appears 
 very young and a trifle commonplace. The 
 Roman vase is much larger and far more 
 profusely ornamented, but the Egyptian, with 
 its simple dignified lines, is full of the mys- 
 tery and wonder inseparable from the race 
 whose creation it is. The Roman vase saw 
 
IN ENGLAND. 105 
 
 the decline of the Caesars, but this one was 
 standing by the Nile when Rameses built his 
 treasure-cities. 
 
 The gateway between garden and court is 
 spanned by a Norman arch found in the crypt 
 of the neighboring chapel, when that build- 
 ing was restored a few years ago. In its pres- 
 ent position the arch is very effective, and ex- 
 cites no feeling of dissatisfaction over its 
 change of location. There is here that atmos- 
 phere of quiet remoteness from every-day 
 life that we are wont to associate with a Cath- 
 edral close, so the ecclesiastical arch seems 
 quite at home. 
 
 In the kitchen stands the chair occupied by 
 James I when he was entertained in the ban- 
 queting hall above ; and close by is a Saxon 
 chair dating from King Alfred's time. The 
 guide-books say it is uncomfortable, but I did 
 not find it so. 
 
 Near the clock hang two bits of faded tap- 
 estry wrought by the hands of no less a per- 
 son than fair Amy Robsart. Our guide took 
 delight in calling attention to the fact that 
 Sir Walter has made a mistake in dates ; for 
 
106 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 Amy, at the time of Queen Elizabeth's visit 
 to Kenilworth, had been dead twelve years. 
 Well, suppose she had? It is none the less 
 Sir Walter's Amy over whose tomb at Ox- 
 ford we drop a tear, literal or figurative ; and 
 not all the pious inscriptions in the hospital 
 which his lordship of Leicester founded, will 
 change our rooted opinion that the said Lei- 
 cester was an unmitigated rascal. It satisfies 
 one's sense of poetic justice to hear the dark 
 whisper that Countess Lettice, whose marble 
 hand Earl Robert is represented as holding 
 most affectionately on their tomb in Beau- 
 champ Chapel, did poison her lordly consort, 
 because she preferred some other man to 
 him. It was not a nice thing for the lady to 
 do, but his fate was as good as the earl de- 
 served. 
 
 The banqueting hall with its beams of 
 Spanish cedar, white and fresh as if cut yes- 
 terday, was particularly interesting to our 
 guide, because of the banquet in honor of 
 King James, before referred to. He affected 
 to read an inscription commemorating the oc- 
 casion, but really repeated it by rote. This 
 
IN ENGLAND. 107 
 
 he did with great sound, bringing his heels 
 together in a way that suggested the pro- 
 priety of a flourish of trumpets, either at the 
 beginning or end of the performance. 
 
 The tiny chapel over the West Gate has 
 seats for the accommodation of the brethren 
 and their wives. Here, at ten in the morning 
 on week-days the service is read by the Mas- 
 ter, who is always a clergyman of the Church 
 of England. On Sundays, the brothers at- 
 tend service at St. Mary's in the village, and 
 mightily proud they are, in their dark-blue 
 gowns and the silver badges bearing the Lei- 
 cester arms. 
 
 At the west end of the chapel, to the left 
 of the door, is the Master's seat, and to the 
 right that of the nobleman who is at the head 
 of the board of trustees. The stalls of the 
 brethren face each other, six on a side ; and, 
 nearer the altar, are the corresponding seats 
 for their wives. 
 
 At each brother's place is a Bible and a 
 prayer-book. Tradition hath it that, some- 
 time in the sixties, money was contributed 
 to buy books for the old ladies. Thereupon, 
 
108 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 the brethren promptly took possession of the 
 new books, passing the old ones on to their 
 better halves. Not a very chivalrous pro- 
 ceeding, was it? But then, they carefully ex- 
 plain, the brothers are the real beneficiaries of 
 the foundation, and their wives, to use a Yan- 
 kee phrase, "connected only by marriage." 
 
 So true is this statement that, when a 
 brother dies, his widow, however aged and 
 helpless, must leave the shelter of the hos- 
 pital, and seek a home elsewhere. The fees 
 of visitors are now devoted to a fund intend- 
 ed to provide for the poor women and pre- 
 vent their being left homeless' as well as 
 widowed. 
 
 Our guide proudly showed us that the old 
 west wall of the city formed a part of the 
 boundary line of the hospital demesne ; and 
 could, in consequence, never be removed. 
 He was a prince of guides, for he loved the 
 old building, and his guidance was not a mere 
 form of conducting troublesome strangers 
 over the house and grounds. He allowed 
 nothing to pass unnoticed; he put us at the 
 best points for observing, and insisted upon 
 
IN ENGLAND. 109 
 
 our seeing every bit of carving and the small- 
 est letter of each inscription. 
 
 Just as we were leaving, we ventured to 
 ask his name ; he showed us an envelope ad- 
 dressed to Robert Owen, saying with a 
 smile : 
 
 "You see, 'owever much h'l pay, h'Fm 
 lr always a h'Owen." 
 
 With this remark as food for meditation, 
 until elimination of superfluous h's should re- 
 veal its occult meaning, we bade our cicerone 
 good-bye, and turned away from the sturdy- 
 looking figure at the gate, a figure whose 
 ruddy face, crowned by snowy hair, bore an 
 expression of pity for the foreigners who 
 might never, as disabled British soldiers of 
 certain favored counties, be sent to end their 
 days at Leicester's hospital. 
 
 Of course, all visitors to Warwick go to see 
 the castle. If one might wander about the 
 armory long enough to make acquaintance 
 with the relics gathered therein, or pause in 
 the picture-gallery for a sufficient length of 
 time to identify the famous personages whose 
 portraits are there displayed, the visit might 
 
no PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 be both pleasant and profitable ; for the stout 
 old fortress is associated with some of the 
 most stirring events of English history. 
 
 Although visitors are driven through the 
 castle by a red-uniformed soldier whose gen- 
 eral appearance and behavior suggest those 
 of a loquacious lobster, and although the rate 
 of speed at which the traveler progresses is 
 like that of a pea through a pop-gun, and we 
 reach the exit too warm and ruffled to carry 
 away very affectionate memories of Sir Guy's 
 punch-bowl, or the rib of the "dun cow," 
 which is "very like a whale's," it is always 
 possible to enjoy the garden and the park at 
 leisure. 
 
 Here, the most attractive things are not 
 the peacocks, preening and strutting in the 
 sun, and very evidently enjoying the admira- 
 tion they excite ; nor even the great Warwick 
 vase; but the mighty cedars of Lebanon, 
 which some long-ago lord of the manor 
 brought from the Holy Land in old crusading 
 days. Sad-looking trees they are, with a 
 mournful voice when the wind breathes upon 
 them, reminders of dead generations, and of 
 
IN ENGLAND. in 
 
 faiths and enthusiasms that have not perish- 
 ed, but taken on new forms. 
 
 Princess refused to allow me to go to the 
 castle with the others, declaring that I had 
 come home from my last visit so cross as to 
 be unfit for civilized society. Accordingly, 
 while she went to our room to nurse a head- 
 ache, I, having seen the others started, went 
 out to sketch the old chapel over the East 
 Gate. 
 
 When Helen returned at noon, she came to 
 stand in our door, with her hands behind 
 her, looking at me with dancing eyes. 
 
 "When children are made to stay at home 
 from interesting places, it is always proper 
 for those who are allowed to go, to bring 
 home something nice for them, isn't it? 
 
 Then she flourished a beautiful peacock's 
 feather. 
 
 "Where did you get that?" demanded 
 Princess and I in one breath. 
 
 "Well," the young lady replied deliberate- 
 ly, "I saw that one of these gorgeous birds 
 was about to lose this feather; and so, while 
 Auntie was listening to the rigmarole that 
 
ii2 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 old parrot reels off about the 'vahze,' I fol- 
 lowed the vain creature about till the feather 
 dropped on the ground, and then I picked it 
 up and brought it home for Miss Peregrina to 
 put in that precious book where she keeps 
 all her treasures and relics. Possibly it would 
 have taken longer to secure the feather, if 
 Mr. Andrus handn't helped me a little." 
 
 Kenilworth is, on the whole, more satisfy- 
 ing than Warwick Castle. Here no guide 
 hurries the visitor from place to place mum- 
 bling statements uninteresting to himself and 
 unintelligible to his hearers. 
 
 As a rule, guides should be stationed here 
 and there in historic grounds and buildings, 
 with instructions to remain silent unless ques- 
 tioned, and should be feed in proportion to 
 their obedience to these orders. 
 
 At Kenilworth, the stranger may wander 
 at will about the ruins, locating the spots 
 where tourneys were held of yore ; may even 
 imagine Queen Bess, in all the glory of one 
 of her most marvelous costumes, sweeping 
 over the bridge into the castle yard; may 
 fancy, too, in spite of dates, that he sees Amy 
 
IN ENGLAND. 113 
 
 Robsart's frightened face, looking out from 
 the tower window down upon the pleasance, 
 trying to catch a glimpse of the dazzling 
 fickle hero who had captivated her girlish 
 imagination. 
 
 Stones and mortar may crumble, and ivy 
 cover the walls, but for us there rise again 
 the banquet-hall, the chapel, the towers, Ken- 
 ilworth in its glory as perhaps it was seen on 
 a summer's day in the sixth or seventh decade 
 of the sixteenth century by Master John 
 Shakespeare's lad, Will. 
 
 The American who reads so much, and 
 withal so meekly, about the commercial spirit 
 that prevails in his own country, and the wor- 
 ship of the "almighty dollar" so fervent and 
 widespread there, has always a feeling of 
 amusement in going about Stratford, and 
 paying a shilling or sixpence at every turn ; 
 to see Anne Hathaway's house, to enter 
 Shakespeare's birthplace, to visit the museum 
 and library, for entrance to the beautiful old 
 church where lies the dust that once housed 
 the soul of the greatest poet of the world. 
 Within the church one is pursued by a deter- 
 
ii4 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 mined young man in clerical dress, who is 
 quite resolved that no visitor, especially if an 
 American, shall escape paying tribute. The 
 harassed pilgrim wishes that he might pay 
 the sum of all these shillings and sixpences 
 immediately upon his entry into the town, 
 and then be left in peace to pursue his inves- 
 tigations and dream his time away. The 
 average, fairly well-read American knows a 
 great deal more about Shakespeare and his 
 haunts than the average so-called guide can 
 tell him; and is willing, if necessary to pay 
 for the privilege of being left alone during his 
 stay in Stratford, provided he can do his pay- 
 ing all at one time, and be thereafter free to 
 pursue his own devices. 
 
 In the south transept of Trinity Church is 
 the so-called American window. Near it is 
 
 a box bearing the persuasive legend : "$ 
 
 are necessary for the completion of this win- 
 dow. If every American visitor would con- 
 tribute a dollar it might be finished this year." 
 
 So far as careful observation can deter- 
 mine, there is aside from the aforementioned 
 dollars nothing American about the window 
 
IN ENGLAND. 115 
 
 except a compartment representing the land- 
 ing of the Pilgrims. Just why King Charles 
 the Martyr (!) and Archbishop Laud should 
 figure in this window, it is difficult to say. 
 Possibly because their behavior drove so 
 many people out of England, and thereby 
 contributed indirectly to the founding of the 
 colonies that later on grew so obstreperous. 
 The connection of these worthies with 
 Shakespeare is equally hard to trace. Queen 
 Bess, Sidney, Raleigh, Ben Jonson, the de- 
 struction of the Armada, scenes from the 
 plays, would all have a fitness in Stratford 
 church; while if the window is to be Amer- 
 ican, Hampden, Pym, and Eliot, or Sir Henry 
 Vane, were better subjects, even stout old 
 Noll, himself, though he was not beautiful; 
 nor, if one may believe the statements of 
 custodians and vergers, any warm admirer of 
 stained glass. 
 
 If Cromwell or his troops were guilty of 
 half the destruction laid to their charge, they 
 must have led a busy life. Recent investiga- 
 tions, however, cause me to believe that His 
 Majesty King Henry the Eighth, of pious 
 
n6 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 memory, did his share of smashing, and that 
 from far less exalted motives than those 
 which actuated Cromwell and his Ironsides. 
 
 The promoters of this window would show 
 far greater reverence for the "lamp of truth" 
 by such portraits as those suggested than 
 by the ones placed here. As the window now 
 stands, it is calculated to arouse lively sym- 
 pathy with Cromwell's feeling toward its 
 kind. 
 
 When all is said, we must acknowledge 
 that Oliver and his comrades gave us some- 
 thing better than that which they destroyed ; 
 honesty, reverence for truth, Uprightness, 
 purity of life, civil and religious freedom. 
 Charles was a spoiled child, and Laud, his 
 tool and victim. "The Martyr!" Martyr to 
 his own obstinacy and his inability to tell the 
 truth, "or even," Ned amends "to tell a con- 
 sistent lie and stick to it." Cathedral glass 
 may be replaced; "restoration funds," like 
 the poor, are always with us ; but the legacy 
 of Puritan England, the world, though often 
 unconscious of its heritage, could ill afford 
 to spare, 
 
IN ENGLAND. 117 
 
 After the indignation meeting of which the 
 above paragraphs afford a sort of secretary's 
 report, we soothed our ruffled spirits by a 
 quiet time in the chancel with its curious 
 "skew." One can always spare a few minutes 
 from the tomb, with its startling inscription 
 and unconvincing bust, to enter into the spirit 
 of the old builders, who drew every line and 
 laid every stone in loving remembrance of the 
 story of the Cross; and perhaps of all the 
 symbolism found in Gothic churches, none is 
 more touching than this bending of the chan- 
 cel to recall the drooping of the weary head of 
 the thorn-crowned Son of God. 
 
 The bust of Shakespeare in the" church cer- 
 tainly does violence to one's every conception 
 of the way a poet should look. Only the 
 dome-like head and the lofty brow are at all in 
 harmony with the mind of the artist as shown 
 in his work. Doubtless the bust is the pro- 
 duction of a local artist who was more stone 
 mason than sculptor, and it therefore shows 
 only the most obvious traits, leaving unnoted 
 all those finer lines which give to any face 
 its individual distinction. This may be unfair 
 
n8 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 to the maker of the bust ; but it is impossible 
 to believe that the creator of Cordelia, Rosa- 
 lind, Juliet, Viola, the two Portias, and the 
 rest of their gracious sisterhood, could have 
 resembled that object. Besides, as Ned re- 
 marked, "if that donkey who calls himself a 
 guide, over at the Shakespeare house, 
 wouldn't persist in trimming his hair and 
 beard so as to make him look like that monu- 
 ment, one could believe in it more easily." 
 
 It may be thought that these views of our 
 company are due to our having eaten some- 
 thing that disagreed with us during our visit 
 to Stratford. This would be a serious mis- 
 take. We had walked across the flowery 
 fields to Shottery ; and after exploring Anne 
 Hathaway's cottage, returned to Stratford, 
 tired and hungry, as doubtless did William 
 himself many a time, after the same prome- 
 nade. By our twelve-years-old guide — an 
 ideal age for a guide on such a tramp — we 
 were conducted to an inn where we feasted 
 sumptuously on lamb with mint-sauce and 
 green peas, and other truly English and ex- 
 ceedingly palatable viands. One grows at 
 
IN ENGLAND. 119 
 
 times a trifle weary of "the roast beef" — and 
 roast mutton — "of old England"; but this 
 meal had keen hunger for a sauce and was 
 duly appreciated. 
 
 No ; dyspepsia did not cloud our judgment 
 in the matter. It is pretty well-established 
 now that the thoughts and feelings do in time 
 chisel the face into some expression of them- 
 selves. And, even though Shakespeare, after 
 the fashion of his time, may have drunk over- 
 much sack and canary at the Mermaid Inn, 
 and elsewhere, nevertheless he had oftentimes 
 great and noble thoughts, and somewhere 
 upon his countenance they must have left a 
 slight trace. 
 
 Doubtless the artist, by his very keenness 
 of perception, is exposed to special tempta- 
 tions from the sensuous side of his nature. 
 But even though he be 
 
 "Chance — swung between the sky and pit." 
 
 he is by that very fact, sometimes lifted 
 to the upper air, and must show some trace 
 of his communication with the higher intelli- 
 gences. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 OXFORD. 
 
 Ned was called back to London the day 
 after our last visit to Stratford; and a few 
 days later the rest of our company went on 
 to Oxford. There is no more delightful fash- 
 ion of spending a summer's day or two than 
 in loitering about the colleges and cloisters of 
 the University. Usually we finish our inspec- 
 tion of city by a comprehensive drive through 
 its streets; but, in Oxford, we began with a 
 leisurely survey of the town from comfortable 
 seats in a shabby-looldng cab. Occasionally, 
 we stopped for a closer view of something 
 particularly interesting as St. Mary's Church, 
 whereof the features that I remember most 
 distinctly are the twisted pillars outside and 
 the tomb of Amy Robsart within. 
 
 Is it not strange how one's thoughts cling 
 about Amy's shadowy figure? She had no 
 salient points of character to attract one's in- 
 terest; and Helen declares that she is quite 
 
IN ENGLAND. 121 
 
 sure Amy would not have cared so very much 
 for Leicester had he been a less dazzling per- 
 sonage ; that, in short, she was more in love 
 with the idea of being chosen by this dashing 
 cavalier than with Robert Dudley himself. 
 Moreover, if the portrait which I bought at 
 Kenilworth tells the truth about her, I see 
 more beautiful and attractive girls than she 
 every day — when I'm at home. They don't 
 drive all the men who know them to despair, 
 dueling, or the exploration of distant regions, 
 either. I wonder if the masculine half of our 
 race is less inflammable than of yore, or if the 
 flames are more successfully hidden. In 
 faith, I think, were I a man, I could fall in 
 love, almost any day, with any one of several 
 maids that I know. Perhaps I have hit upon 
 the key to the puzzle ; in the multiplicity of 
 attractions, the brothers are perhaps bewil- 
 dered and unable to concentrate their affec- 
 tions upon one object. 
 
 No one can look at the Martyr's Monu- 
 ment without a thrill of pride in his race. 
 Those whom it commemorates were men oi 
 like frailties with our own, with just such un- 
 
122 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 expected manifestations of weakness, and oc- 
 casional hours of strength; yet they faced 
 fagot and stake calmly, even triumphantly, 
 for the truth as revealed to them. The story 
 of Cranmer's burning his hand is pathetic, but 
 full of comfort for all such as are given to 
 asking themselves whether, at need, they 
 could face obloquy and torture for the sake of 
 principle. 
 
 The favored youth of England ought to be 
 keyed to high ideals and lofty purposes, pre- 
 pared to live the strenuous life in a fashion 
 helpful to themselves and the world. Some 
 such results we have a right to expect from 
 men who pass so many of their formative 
 years at Eton, Rugby, and Oxford. If, in- 
 deed, the mind be 
 
 "Like the dyer's hand, 
 Subdued to that it works in," 
 
 then from living in this storied town, straying 
 about Christchurch meadows and the college 
 quadrangles, living in the halls, sitting in the 
 libraries, and, in general, simmering in the 
 atmosphere of the place, it would seem that 
 
IN ENGLAND. 123 
 
 the Oxonian must absorb culture and right 
 thinking, even though he lack diligence and 
 regularity in prescribed study and attendance 
 at lectures. 
 
 Doubtless, however, most of these privi- 
 leged creatures appreciate the blessings of 
 the University town only when separated 
 from it by time and space. 
 
 What a joy to spend days and hours read- 
 ing the priceless books and manuscripts in 
 the Bodleian library, and to revive and 
 strengthen one's notions of history by inter- 
 views with the portraits here and in the other 
 libraries and galleries. 
 
 To look at the portraits of Chaucer and 
 Shelley is to break the tenth commandment; 
 or, at least, to wrench it badly. I wonder 
 what Mrs. Browning meant by speaking of 
 Chaucer's 
 
 "infantine, 
 Familiar clasp of things divine." 
 
 Familiar he certainly is, at times ; but never 
 infantine. It is a kindly face he shows us, look- 
 ing out from beneath his dark hood, but the 
 
124 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 blue-grey eyes are keen; the mouth, for all 
 its half smile, firm ; and, altogether, one 
 gathers from his portrait that Dan Chaucer 
 had a very sophisticated understanding of 
 men and things. How could it be otherwise ? 
 As a lad he knew the court of Edward III in- 
 timately; and, as a vintner's son, doubtless 
 knew certain foibles and short-comings of the 
 great folk who dealt with his father. 
 
 It is not probable that young Geoffrey was 
 far away when the slogan sounded for some 
 'fray of the 'prentices in the streets of Old 
 London Town. Not that he was quarrel- 
 some ; O, no ; merely a sane, healthy, natural 
 boy ; and, as such he liked to be where things 
 were happening. So, later on he went a-sol- 
 diering, and by the fortunes of war spent 
 some time in a foreign prison. Again, he 
 hied him forth in state, ambassador for His 
 Majesty the King. Truly, a varied life he led, 
 this poet of ours, and never far from "the 
 kindly race of men." For Chaucer, despite 
 the fact that "a babbled o'green fields" in 
 most delightful wise, is essentially a poet of 
 humanity, laughing at, but loving, his kind. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 125 
 
 We gather that there was much coarseness 
 in the England of his day; but we find evi- 
 dence that he knows what a true gentleman 
 is like, 
 
 "Of his porte as meke as is a mayde ; 
 He never yit no vilonye ne sayde, 
 In al his lyf, unto no manner wight; 
 He was a verray parfight, gentil knight." 
 
 and one may go far before meeting his better. 
 
 As to the current superstition that Chaucer 
 was unhappy in his domestic relations, one 
 need only look at this portrait to be sure that 
 the theory is nonsense. That is the face ot 
 a man who could laugh Xantippe herself into 
 good humor. To be sure there are docu- 
 ments which show that the poet sometimes 
 drew his salary in advance. Mayhap he smug- 
 gled costly manuscripts into his library with- 
 out consulting his wife, a course of conduct 
 that has produced clouds of varying size and 
 density upon the horizon of the married bib- 
 liomaniac in all ages. 
 
 Perhaps over-indulgence in "bookes blakke 
 and rede'' at times produced a scarcity of coin 
 
126 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 wherewith to meet the demands of our tried 
 
 friends 
 
 i 
 
 "The butcher, the baker, 
 
 The candle-stick maker." 
 
 Wherefore there was the sound of dissension 
 in the Chaucer household, and Philippa lifted 
 up her voice, while Geoffrey put on his cloak 
 and stole away to wait for a calmer season. 
 But beyond brief squalls of this nature, I de- 
 cline to believe the unpleasantness went. 
 Chaucer's frequent sarcastic reference to 
 women in his poems, were due to the fashion 
 of his times; he adopted them from his 
 French models along with his April weather, 
 which he knew very well doesn't come in 
 England until May. 
 
 But we must not let Chaucer's portrait 
 monopolize our visit. Here is a tempting 
 manuscript, the finest in the world of the 
 "Song of Roland." If, before I tear myself 
 away from the case containing this and simi- 
 lar treasures, I am not arrested for an at- 
 tempt at grand larceny, my family, on the ar- 
 rival of the last Thursday in November, will 
 
IN ENGLAND. 127 
 
 not need to seek further causes of gratitude ; 
 the mission-boxes in their vicinage should 
 overflow with thank-offerings. 
 
 Yet the days which produced such marvels 
 of the book-maker's art are called days of ig- 
 norance. I am coming to the conclusion that 
 knowledge and ignorance are distributed with 
 tolerable evenness. The man who reads my 
 gas-meter cannot enjoy Homer in the orig- 
 inal nor follow Dante in his progress through 
 the other world ; but he can make my bill of 
 vast proportions, even in summer when the 
 jets are rarely lighted. Verily, it is never safe 
 to call any human being ignorant or stupid. 
 
 In the gallery above the library hang pic- 
 tures with which one would like to live for 
 months. The portrait of the present king, 
 painted during his student days, gives little 
 promise of the proportions to which he has 
 since attained. He looks a nice laddie, and 
 his appearance affords some excuse for the 
 furore one reads of in the old magazines 
 which tell the story of his visit to America in 
 the early sixties. 
 
 Here are all our old friends, Pope, Addi- 
 
128 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 son, and their company, Erasmus, that enig- 
 ma of Reformation days; the Duke of Wel- 
 lington; the founder of the Sheldonian the- 
 ater, dark and grim of face, but with exquisite 
 hands shaded by his filmy lace ruffles. But 
 Miss Bradford is pouring out information in 
 her usual style, a style intended to convey to 
 her hearers the impression that here is a very 
 learned lady indeed, but which usually has the 
 effect of making them very much in love with 
 unpretending ignorance. Some of the infor- 
 mation imparted is incorrect, and other some 
 is of the sort possessed by everybody, but it 
 all pours out steadily in a stately, slow-mov- 
 ing stream, until perceiving that the rest of 
 the visitors to the gallery are, like ourselves, 
 growing weary and nervous, we manage — or 
 rather Helen does, for she is skillful from 
 long practice — to get the lady orator out of 
 the gallery, and set out to ramble through the 
 Magdalen gardens, trusting that they will 
 not provide any learned disquisitions. 
 
 We wander along Addison's walk quite 
 peacefully, and agree that the great essayist 
 displayed as good taste in his choice of a 
 
IN ENGLAND., 129 
 
 lounging-place as in his use of English. 
 Helen found a linden-blossom lying in the 
 path, and gave it to me ; and now, whenever 
 I open the volume to the leaf whereon the 
 pale-green flower lies, the faint, sweet per- 
 fume brings back in all its freshness and beau- 
 ty the shaded walk, the river flecked with 
 sunlight dropping through the over-hanging 
 lime-boughs, the twittering of sparrows 
 among the trees, the blue sky with its lazily- 
 drifting clouds; all the sights, sounds, and 
 odors of an English garden, with the added 
 glamour of associations centuries old. 
 
 At last, whether the wanderer move slowly 
 or swiftly, his stay in Oxford draws to a 
 close. He must gather his belongings, few 
 or many and "move on." But the memory of 
 the old town, with its winding streets, its busy 
 market, its ancient colleges in their charmed 
 gardens and fields, is one more bit of wealth 
 laid away to count and gloat over in coming 
 days. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LONDON TOWN. 
 
 Does any American ever reach London 
 without experiencing a curious thrill at the 
 thought that, at last, he is in the capital and 
 ' treasure-city of his race? 
 
 Coming from Oxford, one leaves the train 
 at Paddington station. Now, in most of the 
 modern English novels that I have read, 
 somebody at a critical point in the story, 
 either leaves or arrives by way oj Paddington 
 station ; and cabbies are frequently given the 
 order, "To Paddington." This is equally 
 true, of course, with regard to Euston, Char- 
 ing Cross, Victoria, or Waterloo. That is the 
 beauty of London; while you are within its 
 limits, no matter where you stand or sit, you 
 can always play at being some interesting or 
 important person, who has stood or sat just 
 there. 
 
 We took up our abode in Bloomsbury, at a 
 house where Princess and I had staid during 
 
IN ENGLAND. 131 
 
 several previous visits to London, in the very 
 heart of Thackeraydom, overlapped by the 
 kingdom of Dickens ; for did not the Os- 
 bornes live in Russell Square, and Sairy 
 Gamp in King's Gate Street? 
 
 Ned was staying at a hotel nearer "the 
 city;" and, in the intervals of business, beg- 
 ged the privilege of going sight-seeing with 
 us. When we had been in the metropolis 
 about a week, I said to Princess one night : 
 
 "Did you notice that Miss Bradford treat- 
 ed Ned rather coolly this afternoon? What 
 do you suppose is the matter?" 
 
 "O, yes; I've noticed it once or twice be- 
 fore. She has begun to suspect that he does 
 not love her for herself alone." 
 
 "If it had not been for her colossal conceit 
 she would have discovered that fact about six 
 weeks ago," I remarked calmly. "Every one 
 else who has seen Ned and Helen together 
 for five minutes has understood the situation. 
 He isn't a bit silly either." 
 
 "You are quite right," replied Princess 
 with equal serenity. "You know, my dear, 
 whenever I see an unmarried woman over 
 
132 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 thirty, I usually wonder what all the men who 
 know her have been thinking about to leave 
 her unappropriated; but, in Miss Bradford's 
 case, I understood it perfectly. She is al- 
 most unendurable, would be entirely so, if 
 she were not Helen's aunt. It shows the ex- 
 tent of Ned's earnestness that he has been 
 able to treat her so very well, and to look 
 after her comfort when he might decently 
 have escaped. Now, my child, prepare your- 
 self; for I'm going to impose a penance on 
 each of us two. One of us will escort the fair 
 and learned Minerva to some highly edifying 
 place each day, while the other will chaperon 
 Helen and Ned elsewhere. Once in a while, 
 we'll rest and reward ourselves by joining 
 forces, and all going for a drive or stroll to- 
 gether." 
 
 "But how will you manage to divide the 
 company ?" 
 
 "The lady Minerva is obtuse ; and, as you 
 have justly observed, conceited ; she is be- 
 sides, chief among her shortcomings and par- 
 ent of many, utterly lacking in any sense of 
 humor. We will ask her to go along with 
 
IN ENGLAND. 133 
 
 us and explain things, we will have disagree- 
 ments as to whose turn it is to enjoy her in- 
 structions, and we will each develop a differ- 
 ent hobby, so that she can not form us into 
 a class of two. 
 
 "I know it will be painful, dear," answer- 
 ing my rueful expression, "especially when 
 her explanations, always old and frequently 
 incorrect, attract the attention of every one 
 in the house ; but think of the good we ex- 
 pect to accomplish." 
 
 And to such hypocrisy and subterfuge did 
 we descend; but for those sins we need not 
 fear punishment in the hereafter; they 
 brought retribution with them, daily and 
 hourly. 
 
 When one goes to the British Museum (un- 
 accompanied by a Miss Bradford) one can 
 pretend to be Dorothy Carteret, or any other 
 delightful young woman given to haunting 
 that gathering-place of storied ghosts. Mere- 
 ly to ride along on the top of an omnibus and 
 read the names of the streets is a joy beyond 
 belief. Think of going down Chancery Lane, 
 and thence by way of St. Martin's Lane to 
 Charing Cross! Is it not all delightfully 
 
i34 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 Dickensey? Then to ride from St. John's 
 Wood to the East India Docks through 
 Clerkenwell, Mile End Road, and the Poplar 
 Road, why, it is traveling from Bulwer L,yt- 
 ton and D'Israeli to Besant, in the most inter- 
 esting fashion imaginable. 
 
 By taking a seat toward the front on the 
 omnibus-roof, and bestowing a few coppers 
 on the driver, the explorer may gain much 
 valuable information. Some of it is liable to 
 frequent repetition. I have had Apsley 
 House pointed out to me seven times in the 
 course of one day and evening; but this 
 serves to impress valuable knowledge upon 
 the mind. One also learns during the drive, 
 if he puts his questions skillfully, a great deal 
 about that interesting and important subject, 
 "how the other half lives." 
 
 There, are countless fascinating ways of 
 becoming acquainted with London. One may 
 trace out the Roman city with the aid of Be- 
 sant; then, under the same wise and kindly, 
 guidance, the Saxon town, following the old 
 wall around what is still "the city," as distinct 
 from the rest of the metropolis as the "town" 
 
IN ENGLAND. 135 
 
 of the ancient Greeks from the "Lower 
 Town ;" or one may dig into ecclesiastical 
 history, collating and comparing the annals 
 of the many ancient churches. One may fol- 
 low Dickens about from Camberwell to to 
 the Borough Road; or dwell in Brixton 
 with "Edna Lyall's" excellent bourgeoisie; 
 strengthen his impressions of mediaeval life 
 and manners by hours spent in the Guild Hall 
 and in the Record Office where lies the 
 mighty Domesday Book; or, delight of de- 
 lights, may revel in the old volumes that are, 
 in Yankee phrase, "corded up" along Holy- 
 well Street and Paternoster Row. What a 
 paradise for the booklover of limited means. 
 Here one may choose from the entire body 
 of British verse, drama, fiction and history, 
 not to mention a goodly number of works 
 from over-sea; he may make selection among 
 Latin volumes of all sizes and periods, to- 
 gether with enlivening works on theology 
 and medicine. Like a certain place mention- 
 ed by our old friend, P. Vergilius Maro, 
 "Bookseller's Row," alias Holywell St., is, to 
 
136 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 a certain class of persons, easy of access but 
 very hard to leave. 
 
 Nor is Holywell the only locality which 
 tempts persons of the class referred to. There 
 are attractive shops in Southampton Row, in 
 Museum Street and the alleys leading there- 
 from, where one may spend many a happy 
 hour and part cheerfully with much coin of 
 the realm. 
 
 Princess and I have a ceremony known as 
 "gloating," which we perform, like the two 
 brothers in the song, "whenever we see fit." 
 This celebration has nothing to do with either 
 sun, moon, or signs of the zodiac ; it is wholly 
 dependent upon our success in gathering me- 
 mentoes of our stay in the various places that 
 have attracted our wandering feet. The meth- 
 od of procedure is to spread out upon the 
 table or the bed, preferably the latter, as af- 
 fording a greater superficial area, the spoils 
 which we have gathered. Then we comment 
 upon and rejoice over each article, anon hug- 
 ging ourselves and each other, or performing 
 an impromptu ballet, as we recall some satis- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 137 
 
 fying or interesting circumstances connected 
 with the various purchases. 
 
 The collections are varied ; they consist of 
 photographs, old engravings, casts, bits of 
 marble, jewelry — in small quantities — carved 
 wood, rude prints illustrative of local life and 
 customs, gloves, shell combs and pins, cam- 
 eos, scraps of lace, and old books. 
 
 Our joy is tempered in these later years by 
 thoughts of the New York Custom House. 
 After our first visit to Europe, I carried home 
 a large valise full of books, declared the same 
 in all frankness, and was permitted to depart 
 in peace, carrying my treasures with me, with- 
 out fine or penalty imposed; but now, alas, 
 times have changed ; there hath arisen in the 
 land a prophet called Dingley, bearing an 
 ominous "bill," and together they have de- 
 stroyed the peace of the traveler. Books 
 whose copyrights, if any they ever had, have 
 long since expired, wood-cuts whose money 
 value is absolutely nil are alike contraband in 
 the eyes of the minions of the law; and the 
 policy of protection becometh a stench in the 
 nostrils of the returning student. 
 
138 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 The officials in Philadelphia are, as a rule, 
 milder of manner and more courteous ot 
 speech than their brethren in New York. 
 Yet, even in the Quaker City, I saw an ama- 
 teur photographer mulcted of twenty-seven 
 dollars duty on negatives which he had made 
 abroad, every bit of his material having been 
 purchased in America before leaving. Prob- 
 ably he was paying duty on the European 
 sunlight of which he had made such free use. 
 This may have been law, but it was neither 
 justice nor common sense. However, our 
 "infant industries" must be protected; and, 
 under circumstances like these, one has only 
 to pay the amount assessed or leave his pos- 
 sessions on the dock. 
 
 I looked on in wonder at the incident re- 
 corded above ; and, when the matter had 
 been settled, asked the victim's wife: 
 
 "How did Dr. A. happen to have that 
 amount left? Why, if I were compelled to 
 pay any such sum as duty, I should be under 
 the necessity of walking home." 
 
 The lady smiled faintly, as she answered : 
 
 "O, the Doctor never would have that 
 
IN ENGLAND. 139 
 
 amount left. I had put aside a little, in case 
 of emergency." 
 
 Such a blessing is a thrifty wife. Princess 
 looked at me significantly as she made a note 
 of the incident for future use, i. e.: to terror- 
 ize me when I am absolutely bent upon buy- 
 ing inconvenient articles. 
 
 But this is wandering a long way from Lon- 
 don; and, truth to tell, we seldom allow the 
 Custom House cloud to settle over us very 
 heavily before we have passed the Quaran- 
 tine Station. What is the use of worrying 
 about duties till we know whether there is 
 small-pox in the steerage or cholera between 
 decks? Once in a way. Princess does invoke 
 the cloud, when I am thinking of negotiating 
 for some such small matter as the Elgin Mar- 
 bles, the carved wood of the Hotel de Cluny, 
 the bed-room furniture of the Pitti Palace, 
 or a choice bit of Gobelin tapestry. 
 
 I am told that it is not considered "good 
 form" in London to visit the British Museum 
 or the Tower, and that many members of the 
 aristocracy have never seen either. Which 
 shows that persons who sacrifice on the altar 
 
140 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 of "good form" miss much of the joy of liv- 
 ing. But then it is quite likely that they 
 would not enjoy the society of the Pharaohs, 
 or of the Kings of Nineveh, or find deep 
 pleasure in contemplating the drapery of Ca- 
 lirrhoe. This goddess may or may not have 
 had a beautiful face, but her figure, as here 
 represented, is a delight to the eye, and one 
 gets the impression that she knew how to 
 wear her clothes. 
 
 As for the horses on the other pediment of 
 the Parthenon, in looking at them, I am 
 obliged to stand with my hands behind me, 
 lest the desire to pat their heads where the 
 veins stand out in such life-like fashion, 
 should overcome my respect for the polite 
 placard which requests the visitor to refrain 
 from touching the objects displayed. 
 
 Miss Minerva came near spoiling the Brit- 
 ish Museum for me. Under her guidance, I 
 had elected to study the Egyptian monu- 
 ments; but, according to her, I always ad- 
 mired the wrong things, or the right things 
 for the wrong reasons ; besides, she insisted 
 upon telling me, in high metallic tones, a 
 
IN ENGLAND. 141 
 
 great many things that I did not wish to 
 know, about those old Egyptian heroes, who 
 sit so calmly with their hands resting on their 
 knees. The chief attraction about these 
 sculptures is their suggestion of remoteness 
 and mystery, which is all destroyed, or at least 
 disturbed, when Miss Bradford begins to 
 pour out dates and dimensions. 
 
 But Princess took pity on me once, and I 
 came down for a solitary peep at the Antin- 
 ous, the Clytie, the Daphne, and those charm- 
 ing baby cupids in the Roman room; and, 
 one rainy day, Miss Minerva had neuralgia, 
 and I stole away and spent a whole forenoon 
 in peace with the Elgin Marbles. 
 
 We have agreed among ourselves that 
 sometime we will apply for permission to 
 lodge a few weeks in Westminster Abbey; 
 for only thus could one learn to know the 
 dear old place. Ned has promised to look 
 up some good restaurants in the neighbor- 
 hood where we may take refuge when bitten 
 by hunger; and we will explore till we are 
 satisfied. 
 
 Here one seems to have roots running 
 
142 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 down deep into the soil. The American 
 moves about among the old memorials, not 
 at all with the feeling of an alien, but rather 
 with that of one who has just come into pos- 
 session of a piece of ancestral property, beau- 
 tiful, interesting, sacred, and his own by un- 
 questioned title. 
 
 Longfellow seems perfectly at home beside 
 Dryden; and it is entirely a family matter, 
 when we sit down before the tomb of Chau- 
 cer, with his shrewd, kindly face looking at 
 us from the window above, Browning and 
 Tennyson lying near, and the busts and stat- 
 ues of the members, great and small, of the 
 brotherhood of letters crowding all about. 
 So much is it our affair that we find it hard 
 to forgive the sinner who spelled Ben Jon- 
 son's name with a superfluous h. (How very 
 English !) 
 
 I fear pious Edward would think that his 
 minster had been perverted from its original 
 purpose as a place of the worship of God to a 
 building for the glorifying of men. This, too, 
 despite the daily service. The Pantheon at 
 Paris has been formally secularized and set 
 
IN ENGLAND. 143 
 
 apart for perpetuating the memories of the 
 departed heroes, bards, and sages of the na- 
 tion. Westminster Abbey is still called a 
 church ! yet I doubt whether it impresses the 
 visitor as a whit more ecclesiastical in char- 
 acter than its neighbor across the channel. It 
 is not for a church service that one goes to 
 Westminster Abbey. Frankly, on a week- 
 day, the service is regarded as rather an in- 
 terruption to the serious business of the visit. 
 From the Lady Chapel to the towers, and 
 from the door of the north transept to the 
 farthest cloister, every inch of the massive 
 pile is crowded with mementoes of the civil 
 and ecclesiastical history of England. It is to 
 read this history in monument, window, and 
 carven stone, that one comes to the Abbey ; 
 and, before setting his foot inside, the visitor 
 should steep himself, long and thoroughly, in 
 Addison, Irving, Hawthorne, Farrar, Stanley, 
 the old chronicles, any one and every one who 
 has said anything worth while about the 
 building. Once admitted, he should avoid 
 vain babblers, official and otherwise, as he 
 would a pestilence, and keep eye, mind and 
 
144 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 heart open for what the church itself has \o 
 tell him. 
 
 What an entirely new view of Henry VII 
 is conveyed by the chapel which bears his 
 name. We remember him chiefly as a wily 
 politician, most canny in regard to the expen- 
 diture of money. Yet, in all England, there 
 is little architecture so richly ornamented as 
 that of this chapel. Does not this suggest 
 that he was aesthetic by choice, and niggard- 
 ly from necessity only ? Something like this, 
 Greene has told us ; but the testimony of the 
 stone is more convincing. 
 
 How one forgets all the unpleasant traits 
 of James I, his pompous manners, his pedant- 
 ry, his cowardice while one stands beside the 
 cradle-tomb of the baby Princess Sophia. 
 Grand as is the minster church, it emphasizes 
 in some subtle way the human and not the 
 official side of those who have built it or lie 
 buried in it; and causes one to forget differ- 
 ences of rank and flight of time, and remem- 
 ber only the strong, deep-lying bond of kin- 
 ship. 
 
 When it came my turn to be chaperone I 
 
IN ENGLAND. 145 
 
 spent several happy days with my charges, in 
 rambling about Fleet Street, past the shop of 
 Izaak Walton, into courts leading to the 
 "Mitre" and "Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese," 
 where Johnson and the other giants were 
 wont to congregate, and Samuel laid down 
 the law to his companions. I wonder how 
 the latter enjoyed that sort of thing. It must 
 have been a little tiresome to be listener all 
 the time, however much wisdom one heard. 
 If the other members of the Literary Club 
 had been women, I venture to say, they 
 would, sometimes at least, have given way 
 to the impulse to talk all at once, and drown 
 the leader's leonine rumble in a chorus of 
 shrill treble. This would have been excellent 
 discipline for Dr. Samuel. 
 
 We enjoyed, each for our own reasons, 
 walking along the street looking at the book- 
 sellers windows and at the wares displayed 
 in the other shops. (I can not make oath that 
 my companions devoted their attention un- 
 reservedly to the shop windows ; but being a 
 discreet duenna, I did so). The display here 
 is so entirely different from what one sees at 
 10 
 
i 4 6 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 home ; and it is so very wholesome for us to 
 learn that people may live and prosper, while 
 doing things in ways totally different from 
 our own. 
 
 It is always well, when in Holywell Street, 
 to take a little peep into St. Clement Danes, 
 the church whose bells, according to the fa- 
 miliar nursery rhyme, discourse sweet music 
 about "oranges and lemons." There is some- 
 thing very attractive about both this church 
 and its neighbor, St. Mary-le-Strand, each 
 standing alone in the midst of a busy street, 
 the tides of life and trade surging by on either 
 hand. As monuments of an elder time, they 
 arouse an interest I am always unable to feel 
 in St. Paul's. When I have seen the tombs 
 of Chinese Gordon, of Wellington, Nelson, 
 and Dr. Donne, and recovered a little from 
 the shock of finding the monument to Corn- 
 wallis in a place of honor, the real power of 
 St. Paul's is exhausted. Is is very big and 
 magnificent, but conveys the impression that 
 it was, as the children say, "done on pur- 
 pose," while the older churches are a spon- 
 taneous growth. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 147 
 
 Another attraction at St. Clement Danes is 
 the pew often occupied by Johnson, in which 
 with some expenditure of diplomacy — and 
 coppers — one may sit down and meditate for 
 a time. 
 
 Farther down, near the entrance to Great 
 Farringdon street, a wide thoroughfare which 
 runs, during a part of its course, below the 
 level of the neighboring ways, is the church 
 of St. Bride's, which is well worth a visit. 
 It is a bit of Wren's choicest work, and con- 
 tains the tomb of no less a person than Sam- 
 uel Richardson. 
 
 If he now knows anything of the fate of 
 his body, it must seem passing strange to him 
 that his outworn mansion should be falling to 
 decay in a spot so secluded. For Samuel, 
 when he dwelt in that mouldering tabernacle, 
 was fond of the social side of life, and was the 
 recipient of much attention from the fair sex. 
 Does he smile now, I wonder, recalling that 
 marvellous creature — Sir Charles Grandison? 
 And what does he think of the lovely Harriet 
 Byron? What a commotion her appearance 
 unfailingly created! Helen of Troy was 
 
148 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 scarcely more dangerous to the peace of man- 
 kind. 
 
 Is it not strange that both Richardson and 
 his readers should have regarded Pamela as 
 a moral work? "Pamela, or, Virtue Reward- 
 ed." In reality, "Mr. B." was the person re- 
 warded, and that with a wife far beyond his 
 deserts. This, I maintain ; but Princess avers 
 that I am entirely wrong, and that a husband 
 of any kind was a reward for a poor girl; 
 that, therefore, the title is perfectly correct. 
 Ned, however, agrees with me, which, consid- 
 ering the length of time I spent in decipher- 
 ing the inscription on Richardson's monu- 
 ment the afternoon that I went there in my 
 capacity of chaperone, is only proper grati- 
 tude on his part. 
 
 Such naive pictures of English social con- 
 ditions as are found in Richardson's novels, 
 together with the revelations made by Addi- 
 son, Steele, and Fielding, are likely to make 
 a reader ask himself why the English should 
 assume airs of superior virtue, when discuss- 
 ing French morality. 
 
 From St. Bride's Church we go on into 
 
IN ENGLAND. 149 
 
 Great Farrington St., past Congregational 
 House, a memorial to the dissenting minis- 
 ters who gave up their charges under the Act 
 of Conformity. Beyond this building, we 
 pass the Meat Market, a view of which is 
 likely to convert the visitor to vegetarianism. 
 Not that the meat does not appear to be 
 good; but there is such an enormous quan- 
 tity of it. 
 
 A little farther on, we find ourselves before 
 the Blue Coat School. The working school 
 is soon to remove to the country, perhaps has 
 already done so; but the old buildings, rich 
 in memories of Coleridge and Lamb, ought 
 always to remain standing here. 
 
 The Blue Coat boys seem to have realized 
 that they were honored by the presence 
 among them of these charity students. What 
 a pity that we do not always know when we 
 are in the best society. Schoolboys come 
 nearer to doing so than most other persons. 
 
 I wonder if that particular generation of 
 schoolboys at Christ's Hospital was a more 
 than ordinarily light-hearted one. Certainly 
 the influence of Charles Lamb's sweet nature 
 
ISO PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 ought to have made them all joyous for life. 
 Blessed are the cheerful, for they make sun- 
 shine in shady places, is a much needed beat- 
 itude for our hurried generation. There is 
 no other virtue that better repays cultiva- 
 tion ; and no man except Stevenson can give 
 us so many valuable hints as to its nature and 
 acquisition as that sunniest of burdened mor- 
 tals, Charles Lamb. He had every excuse for 
 discouragement that a man need present; 
 yet, without any direct preaching on the sub- 
 ject of cheerfulness, he has left behind him a 
 trail of kindly light to help us find our way 
 through life's dark places. 
 
 Lamb was an out-and-out Londoner, living 
 his life in the smoky streets of the old city, 
 spending a few days now and then at Brigh- 
 ton or Margate — resorts loved of the middle- 
 class of his native town — finding the beauty 
 and poetry of life on the crowded pavements 
 and in the human interests about him. 
 
 One happy day we all went together to the 
 Tower. Fashionable England, I am told, 
 does not visit the Tower. However, most of 
 the English who emigrated to the New World 
 
•IN ENGLAND. 151 
 
 were of the middle class; and we still have 
 many of the sensible notions of the intelligent 
 citizens and country-folk, who made a king 
 to quake upon his throne, and eventually de- 
 prived him of a head that seemed unfitted for 
 the work required of it. Therefore, to us, ad- 
 mirers of Raleigh, Drake, Frobisher, and 
 others of the "men of Devon" and their kind, 
 as well as of Sir Thomas More, Henry How- 
 ard, and the rest of "the glorious dynasty, 
 heirs of the block and axe," the Tower is a 
 treasure-house of associations. The crown- 
 jewels, with all their gold and gems, are cheap 
 in comparison. 
 
 I wonder if the thought of these illustrious 
 predecessors did not bring comfort as well as 
 warning to Henry Laurens, sometime envoy 
 from the revolted colonies to His Majesty 
 George the Third, an unwelcome envoy who 
 was given lodgings at the charge of the coun- 
 try to which he was accredited instead of at 
 that of his home government. How would 
 it seem now-a-days to be a prisoner here? 
 "Prisoner in the Tower of London" sounds 
 mediaeval even for Henry Laurens and the 
 
152 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 times of George III ; but then King George 
 was obsessed by some rather mediaeval no- 
 tions. 
 
 The ancient pile seems a fortress, and a 
 fortress only ; it is difficult to imagine pleas- 
 ure-loving Edward IV established here, with 
 all the luxury of his most luxurious court. 
 It is hard to believe that even hangings of 
 velvet and tapestry could convert this rough 
 walled building into a palace. 
 
 The place is full of ghosts, most welcome 
 and interesting ones, entirely suited to the lo- 
 cality. They are the true owners of His Ma- 
 jesty's Tower, these men and women, so 
 many of whose stories, so far as mortals ken, 
 ended here on Tower Hill; criminals and 
 martyrs, men, women, and children even, of 
 every age and degree. How they throng 
 about us, till they veil even the glitter of the 
 crown-jewels and the whimsical dress of the 
 beef-eaters. For what are state salt-cellars, 
 the imperial diadem, even the Koh-i-noor, 
 compared with the memories of those whose 
 blood has so freely watered the soil of a care- 
 less country? 
 
IN ENGLAND. 153 
 
 Finally, we cease contemplating the old 
 armor, the weapons of many patterns, and 
 the various instruments of torture wherewith 
 it was the custom of our pious ancestors, 
 through much agony of body, to drive into 
 the fold of safety the wandering souls of any 
 poor wights whose creed differed from their 
 own. 
 
 Coming out into the Yard, we are permit- 
 ted once more to resume our hand-bags and 
 detachable pockets, taken from us when we 
 entered, lest they might contain dynamite 
 bombs and other explosives destined for the 
 destruction of the building. 
 
 The good-natured policeman, in answer to 
 our inquiries about the nearest way to Lon- 
 don Bridge, gives us minute directions about 
 finding King William's statue — "the old 
 king's statter," he says, as though William 
 were of yesterday. From this point the 
 bridge is plainly visible. The official cautions 
 us against Great Tower Street, which he 
 agrees with us is nearer, "but pretty rough." 
 
 We follow his directions and in time reach 
 the old bridge. It is not so very old, either ; 
 
154 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 but occupies the site of the bridge that span- 
 ned the stream in the days when Southwark 
 was a remote suburb and Westminster a coun- 
 try village. 
 
 We shall not cross this morning, as we are 
 leaving the south side of the river for future 
 visits. After two or three false starts and 
 some altercation with persons of whom we 
 inquire the way without first soothing their 
 tempers by an application of copper, we find 
 the street leading to the Swan Pier, and here 
 we take a penny steamer for the Temple. 
 
 Princess is not fond of steamers at any 
 price. However, she has come to London to 
 see everything interesting that our time will 
 allow ; so she says bravely : 
 
 "Don't look at me. Look at the water, the 
 embankment, anything that interests you. 
 The agony can't last long." 
 
 Nor does it. We reach Temple Pier, when 
 we have barely had time to learn how the 
 smoke-stack ducks as we go under the 
 bridges. Princess, despite her woe, is inter- 
 ested in this proceeding. She always wishes 
 to "shee the wheels go around." 
 
IN ENGLAND. 155 
 
 At Temple Pier we land once more; and, 
 as it is nearly noon, we decide to rest and 
 lunch before doing any more visiting. So, 
 with Ned as guide, we thread various narrow 
 streets leading out into the Strand; and here 
 at a quiet restaurant, one of Ned's favorite 
 haunts, we sit down to eat a substantial Eng- 
 lish luncheon. We take plenty of time about 
 it, resting and chatting; and, when we have 
 finished, return, through the maze by which 
 we came, to the Temple. 
 
 Middle Temple has a beautiful hall, and 
 one is glad to know that "Twelfth Night" 
 was, once at least, presented in such sur- 
 roundings; grateful, too, are we to the 
 slightly muddled old gossip Manningham 
 who has preserved for us this precious bit of 
 information, like the "two grains of wheat 
 hid in two bushels of chaff." 
 
 We hear much of the dignity of history and 
 some of her devotees feel it incumbent upon 
 them to speak lightly of all other branches of 
 literature ; yet these scribbled recollections 
 of the tipsy lawyer, the diaries of Evelyn and 
 Pepys, the stray letters of any person whatso- 
 
156 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 ever who has recorded without affectation 
 what he really saw in the world around him — 
 these scraps and fragments are genuine his- 
 tory. 
 
 Are not Tom Pinch and pretty Ruth as 
 real as any figures that ever walked here, 
 even though the gentle ghost of Lamb flits 
 through the halls and alleys, and the dust 
 that once housed the erratic but lovable soul 
 of Oliver Goldsmith lie somewhere here- 
 about; just where, no one can say; the only 
 thing positively known about the matter be- 
 ing that his body does not repose under his 
 tombstone. 
 
 This state of affairs is quite unconventional 
 enough to suit the kind-hearted Irishman. I 
 never read the story of Goldsmith's life with- 
 out a pang of something like envy. Think of 
 tramping over the Continent, fluting one's 
 way from village to village, seeing from the 
 inside that life which most of us behold only 
 as detached spectators, living like the birds of 
 the air, beloved of dogs, beggars and chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Truly it sounds Arcadian, though doubt- 
 
IN ENGLAND. i 57 
 
 less it had a squalid side; and one asks him- 
 self how a man of the sophistical eighteenth 
 century managed to compass such a holiday. 
 Goldsmith was not really of his time ; he was 
 a forerunner of the eccentric group of the 
 next generation, a fitter comrade for De 
 Quincey and Coleridge than for Burke and 
 Johnson. 
 
 A beautiful place is the round Temple 
 Church, on whose pavement lie cross-legged 
 the effigies of certain old Crusaders, suggest- 
 ing in the faint half-light a peace they never 
 knew, those hard-headed old knights, 
 
 "Who laid about them at their wills, and died." 
 
 That line of Tennyson's is a wonderfully 
 good summary of the life of a mediaeval 
 knight, one thinks at first; and yet, being hu- 
 man they could not have spent all their time 
 in smiting and being smitten ; they must oc- 
 casionally, have sat down to rest and submit 
 themselves to gentle influences. We know 
 they went to church, sometimes; and such 
 quiet figures as these must have reminded 
 the fighters that to everything under the sun 
 
158 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 there is a time, and to them also would come 
 at length this absolute quiescence. I won- 
 der what, in their hearts, the restless old fel- 
 lows really expected to do, when by dint ol 
 pilgrimages, crusades, and masses they 
 should have secured for themselves an en- 
 trance into the Heavenly City. It is hard to 
 believe that they took kindly to the idea of 
 endlessly playing harps and singing psalms. 
 Yet many of the fighters were also singers 
 and improvisers of verse ; so it is possible 
 that they were more resigned than the pres- 
 ent generation to the thought- of spending 
 eternity in warbling hymns. The modern no- 
 tion of heaven is probably best expressed by 
 the words of the Revelator, 
 
 "And His servants shall serve Him." 
 
 Over in the garden is the spot where grew 
 the white and red roses of York and Lancas- 
 ter — those thorny roses, whose fragrance 
 provoked strife. The contending factions 
 had at least an eye to the picturesque in 
 choosing their badges. Will our party names 
 
IN ENGLAND. 159 
 
 and insignia carry with them any such flavor 
 of romance adown the next four centuries? 
 
 We wander out of the garden, into the 
 Strand once more ; thence by way of St. 
 Clement Danes and Holywell street, through 
 Bell's Yard, haunted by the oddities of 
 "Bleak House," on into Portugal street and 
 the Old Curiosity Shop, into whose authen- 
 ticity we do not inquire too curiously. 
 
 We stray along through Lincoln's Inn 
 Fields, looking at the house which is said to 
 have sheltered the original of Mr. Tulking- 
 horn. We walk all the way around the quiet 
 square, half believing that we shall meet Es- 
 ther Summerson and her charge, or possibly 
 Dick, Mr. Woodcourt, or even little Miss 
 Flite. 
 
 After dinner, if we are not too tired, we 
 will go to the theater or the opera. 
 
 These early days of July present many dra- 
 matic and musical feasts. We may go to hear 
 Bernhardt in "UAiglon-" Melba, Eames and 
 the De Reszkes in some part of the wonder- 
 ful Niebelung cycle or in "Faust;" or we may 
 please ourselves with a play of Shakespeare's 
 
160 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 at the Lyceum Theater, given by Irving, El- 
 len Terry, and their associated artists. 
 
 Would that we might see them in "Becket" 
 or "Cymbeline." However, we take the goods 
 the gods provide, listen delightedly, like chil- 
 dren off for a holiday, to "The Merchant of 
 Venice," "The Bells," or "Robespierre," and 
 go home to dream all night of the enchanted 
 land that we have visited. 
 
 The first time that we went to the theater 
 with Ned, we came near having a family jar, 
 as he was scandalized at the idea of our sit- 
 ting elsewhere than in a box, and was deter- 
 mined to buy all the tickets. At last, we suc- 
 ceeded in convincing him that we had with us 
 no costumes suitable for a box party; and we 
 four women, being for once in entire har- 
 mony, insisted upon a "Dutch treat." The 
 young gentleman being told, politely but 
 firmly, that he might go with us on those 
 terms or not at all, finally yielded, and we sat 
 in the amphitheater at two-and-six-pence 
 each. We found ourselves among quiet, at- 
 tentive people who had really come to hear 
 the music; and, in consequence, did not 
 
IN ENGLAND. 161 
 
 drown the orchestra or the voices by inane 
 conversation. Sometimes a good-natured 
 Londoner pointed out to the strangers from 
 over the sea the celebrities in the boxes be- 
 low; a statesman, a belle, or some scion of 
 royalty. 
 
 When the play is over, we hasten to catch 
 an omnibus that shall land us near Southamp- 
 ton Row, along which now quiet street we 
 hasten toward Queen Square. Here, at area 
 doors, sentimental maids are standing with 
 "their young men," in attitudes indicative of 
 all degrees of mutual affection; all entirely 
 free from self-consciousness or anything sug- 
 gesting that the "spooners" realize the pres- . 
 ence of any other human beings on the same 
 planet. There may be as much demonstra- 
 tion of affection, as much embracing, oscula- 
 tion, and squeezing of hands at back gates, in 
 railway coaches, on the tops of omnibuses, or 
 in parks in America; but I have never hap- 
 pened to observe it, although I have wander- 
 ed home from the opera at as late an hour in 
 Chicago as in London. I have seen a man 
 
 holding the hand of his female companion, 
 li , 
 
162 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 in the sight of all the passengers, on the top 
 of a coach during all the journey from Loch 
 Katrine to Callender. He did the same, se- 
 rene and unabashed, as though he had long 
 arrears of that kind of thing to make up, and 
 were utilizing his vacation for the purpose, 
 deliberately and with malice aforethought. 
 There is in the exercise which Princess has 
 named "The British act" something so stolid 
 and matter-of-fact , that it seems to the Yan- 
 kee onlooker ludicrous rather than lyric. 
 
 We went out to Hampton Court by omni- 
 bus, and came home in a most leisurely way 
 on a river steamer dependent upon the tide 
 for sufficient water to float her. That is to 
 say, Ned and Helen, with myself as chaperon, 
 came home by water; Princess and Miss 
 Bradford returned by train, and spent the 
 evening in agonies of anxiety over our non- 
 appearance. We left Kingston before they 
 did, at half-past five ; and, as we did not 
 reach home until after ten, there was some 
 excuse for their uneasiness. 
 
 On the way out, as we drew near to Twick- 
 enham, we heard the sounds of a barrel-or- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 163 
 
 gan. Coming nearer, we discovered several 
 ragged children dancing to the lively strains. 
 Presently a young man immaculately dress- 
 ed, wearing a tall silk hat and a Prince Albert 
 coat with a rose in the button-hole, joined 
 the youngsters; and, when we looked back 
 as we turned the corner, was footing it as 
 gayly as any urchin among them. This pro- 
 ceeding aroused my envy; it was so natural, 
 so entirely innocent, and so utterly impossi- 
 ble for me, a respectable spinster. It is that 
 sort of thing which makes me feel that priv- 
 ileges are unequally divided between men and 
 women. Ned seeing my wistful looks, offer- 
 ed to descend from the omnibus with me and 
 lend his countenance and moral support 
 while I "tripped the light fantastic." But 
 even thus encouraged, my heart failed me. 
 
 One gives a thought to brilliant, unhappy 
 Pope, on passing through Twickenham; but 
 begins already to watch for the spreading 
 horse-chestnuts of Bushey Park, a truly ideal 
 spot. 
 
 Hampton Court, aside from the huge 
 grape vine, the Raphael cartoons, and the 
 
164 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 portraits, is rather uninteresting. One wear- 
 ies of successions of best chambers with state 
 beds and gorgeous hangings; and for the 
 cartoons one needs far more time than we 
 care to give them to-day. The portraits 
 grow monotonous after a little, and one be- 
 comes aware of a desire to organize a society 
 whose object shall be to provide fichus for 
 the decolletees beauties depicted by Eely and 
 Kneller. 
 
 Now Windsor is in every way more satis- 
 factory. In the first place, it looks like a 
 fortress-castle, while all its surroundings are 
 picturesque. One may expect to see old ac- 
 quaintances anywhere, under the shadow of 
 the grey walls that shoulder themselves into 
 sight, dwarfing the town into insignificance; 
 in the tower where Jamie Stuart watched his 
 ladye in the court below, and then wrote mel- 
 odious verse about her; in the curfew tower, 
 in the chapels, in the park, and across the 
 bridge at Eton. 
 
 Windsor, like most other English villages, 
 is worth all the trouble one takes to get there 
 on trains that never appear to start for any 
 
IN ENGLAND. 165 
 
 definite point, and about whose "connec- 
 tions" (this is distinctly American) with 
 other trains, English officials are, on princi- 
 ple, strictly non-committal. 
 
 Even if the castle were not rich in the 
 memories of at least nine centuries, and filled 
 with treasures of art, there would still be a 
 chance of searching for traces of Dame 
 Quickly and her friends and sweet Anne 
 Page; there would still be beautiful Eton 
 Chapel; and, failing all these, one could go 
 to Stoke Pogis churchyard, or make his way 
 to Horton, thence to view Windsor as Mil- 
 ton saw it in his high-hearted youth. 
 
 But Windsor has its own charm, and all 
 these other glories added thereunto. Hence- 
 forth all stories of knight and ladye fair, of 
 court intrigue and deeds of derring-do, will 
 have as their background a castle something 
 like Windsor. 
 
 We really had time to see and enjoy every- 
 thing, including "Ruben's room, with Rube 
 himself up over the door," as we were in- 
 formed by a functionary with a nasal twang 
 that brought up memories of Cape Cod. We 
 
166 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 reveled in recollections of that visit for 
 months afterward; for we walked sedately 
 about the beautiful rooms and even paused 
 some minutes at a time before objects of spe- 
 cial interest, not being driven rapidly from 
 one entrance to the other, like leaves before 
 a November blast. Neither were our 
 thoughts distracted by anxious questionings 
 of ourselves and each other as to the proper 
 amount to be given in "tips;" for it is writ- 
 ten that gratuities to attendants are strictly 
 forbidden. Herein we found further cause 
 for respecting the Majesty of England. 
 
 As Miss Bradford and Helen did not know 
 when they might cross the ocean again, they 
 had from time to time discussed the feasibil- 
 ity of spending a fortnight on the Continent. 
 After much consultation of guide-books and 
 many visits to tourist offices, they had de- 
 cided upon going by way of Canterbury to 
 Dover and thence to Ostend. They would 
 spend a few days in Antwerp and Brussells 
 and then go to Cologne, leaving that city for 
 a journey up the Rhine as far as Heidel- 
 berg, and thence by rail to Paris. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 167 
 
 I had a wild throb of excitement and 
 thought of abandoning all previous plans 
 when Paris was mentioned, but Princess was 
 firm, and Miss Bradford and her niece set 
 out alone. 
 
 "Do you suppose Ned will have business 
 in Paris early next week? And how do you 
 think Miss Bradford will receive him?" 
 
 "He will certainly have business there," 
 answered Princess to whom I propounded 
 the above questions; "and, by the time he 
 arrives, Miss Minerva will doubtless be glad 
 to see some one who can speak a little de- 
 cent French. 
 
 "Doesn't she speak French? I'm sure I 
 heard her say she did." 
 
 "She thinks she does, but it is of 'the schole 
 of Stratford-atte-Browe ;' while Helen, who 
 is a fair German scholar, frankly confesses 
 that she never got beyond reading French. 
 Miss Bradford is so sure she knows every- 
 thing and can do everything in the best way, 
 that she is bound to try to set the French 
 government or the municipal authorities of 
 
168 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 Paris right on some point, and she will sorely 
 need help." 
 
 "Yes," I agreed, "you are right; if, before 
 Ned appears the good lady gets into two or 
 three scrapes owing to her ignorance of the 
 language and her general bumptiousness, she 
 will be ready to welcome him as an angel of 
 light." 
 
 "Yes, Neddy speaks the lingo exceedingly 
 well. Old Professor Dupres managed to 
 hammer the language into our heads and fas- 
 ten it to our tongues, if he did have a villain- 
 ous temper and emphasize his instructions by 
 throwing inkstands and rulers at us." 
 
 "Besides, the laddie has sense and a cool 
 head," I added, "it is to be hoped the fates 
 will be propitious in choosing the time of his 
 arrival." 
 
 One day, after Miss Bradford and Helen 
 had left us, Princess and I started for a long 
 day's ramble. We took our luncheon of bis- 
 cuit, fresh fruit, and cheese, neatly tied up in 
 paper and deposited in the netted bag which 
 serves as base of supplies and trophy-case on 
 these excursions. The bag is often rather 
 
IN ENGLAND. 169 
 
 limp when we set forth ; but, ere we return at 
 nightfall, has grown as interesting as a boy's 
 pocket; and we are ourselves often surprised, 
 in emptying the receptacle, at sight of the 
 varied treasures we have accumulated. 
 
 We spent this day in the heart of old Lon- 
 don. We took an omnibus down High Hol- 
 born (anglais 'Igh 'Obun) landing near the 
 Mansion House. Thence we found our way 
 about the crooked streets to Bow Church — 
 (St. Mary-le-Bow) another bit of Wren's 
 work. This visit we made in honor of Dick 
 Whittington and his cat; but although the 
 crypt was an interesting bit of early architec- 
 ture, the bells were silent regarding our fu- 
 ture. 
 
 We followed tortuous paths through Lit- 
 tle Britain to the Church of St. Bartholomew 
 the Great, which is near to Smithfield. I 
 never know how I reach this edifice, probably 
 with the exception of St. John's chapel in the 
 tower, the oldest church in London. Ac- 
 cordingly, each visit has the fresh joy of orig- 
 inal discovery. The church is so enclosed by 
 tall buildings, that, until fairly in its yard, one 
 
176 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 hardly realizes its nearness. It is one of the 
 few things about which the nearly omnis- 
 cient London policeman does not always 
 give clear directions. 
 
 We sat down for a time in the cool, dark 
 crypt, to rest our eyes and steady our nerves 
 with the sight of the Norman arches and the 
 tomb of the versatile founder of the church, 
 the priory, and the hospital. What a chequer- 
 ed life he led, this mediaeval adventurer; 
 fighting with Hereward the wake against the 
 too successful William, then becoming a min- 
 strel and dependent upon William's son; and, 
 finally, ending his days as prior of the mon- 
 astery that he had founded. What a ro- 
 mance is here, could we only disentangle the 
 interwoven threads. 
 
 Leaving this torso of a once great eccle- 
 siastical foundation, we go for a time to wan- 
 der about Smithfield Market, trying to realize 
 that just here were burned those martyrs 
 whose fate has caused Mary Tudor to come 
 down to posterity with such a sinister epithet 
 prefixed to her name. 
 
 Poor, unhappy woman, whom hard fate 
 
IN ENGLAND. • 171 
 
 called to a throne. How far more content 
 had she been to retire to a convent and spend 
 her time in the practice of those religious 
 rites to which she attached so much import- 
 ance. Despite her cruelties, Mary is more 
 to be pitied than blamed — a woman who had 
 no girlhood and no friends. 
 
 We take a look at St. Bartholomew's Hos- 
 pital, still one of the most important institu- 
 tions of the kind in all London; feast our 
 eyes for a few minutes on the exterior of the 
 building that was once Charterhouse School, 
 a fortunate institution that numbers among 
 its children noisy, rough, yet lovable Dick 
 Steele ; Addison, the sedate and polished ; 
 and their biographer, who has made the eigh- 
 teenth century live again, our guide through 
 Vanity Fair, satirical yet kindly Thackeray, 
 whose laughter often lies so close to tears. 
 
 Still further on in the maze, near the old 
 Jewish quarter, and bounded by a fragment 
 of the old city wall, lies St. Giles Cripplegate, 
 beneath whose ancient roof lie buried Foxe, 
 of the "Book of Martyrs," and John Milton. 
 
 Before the old black marble altar, Oliver 
 
172 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 and Elizabeth Cromwell were married, ere 
 the throne of the Stuarts had begun to quake 
 at the word of the Lincolnshire farmer. 
 Above the altar is a beautifully tinted eye, 
 a stained glass window designed by Reyn- 
 olds. 
 
 The parish of St. Giles Cripplegate must 
 have been strongly tinctured with Puritan- 
 ism even before the days of the Common- 
 wealth ; and its spirit evidently changed little 
 when Charles II returned to the throne of his 
 fathers. 
 
 The parish is a type of the real heart of 
 England. Changes might come at court, 
 frivolous nobles follow and outdo the exam- 
 ple of a frivolous king ; but middle-class Eng- 
 land move steadily on in the path she had 
 chosen, the path that led to freedom in 
 church and state, to purity and strength in 
 the home. The good work of Cromwell and 
 his followers was not undone by the Restor- 
 ation; some of the excesses of Puritanism 
 were checked by contrary excesses, but the 
 vital part remained and grew, the seed of the 
 
IN ENGLAND. 173 
 
 best things in modern English life and char- 
 acter. 
 
 We pass by Finsbury Circus, a name which 
 recalls the sometime owner of a large liv- 
 ery stable in the neighborhood, who in the 
 course of time and nature was promoted to 
 be the grandfather of John Keats. The com- 
 bination is paradoxical; nothing that we can 
 discover in his parentage accounts for the 
 Hellenic genius of Keats. It is a comfort to 
 find evidence that there are some things un- 
 accounted for by either heredity or environ- 
 ment. 
 
 At last, rambling along in leisurely fash- 
 ion, stopping to look at everything that 
 promises to be of interest, we come to the 
 cemetery known as Bunhill Fields. Here, 
 being tired and hungry, we sit down on a 
 shaded bench outside, and peacefully eat our 
 luncheon, enjoying the coolness and quiet, 
 the freedom from dust and confusion. 
 
 Having thus refreshed the inner woman, we 
 enter the cemetery and begin our search for 
 the tomb of Susannah Wesley and those of 
 George Fox, Defoe and Bunyan. The graves 
 
174 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 are close together and there are many inter- 
 esting things to see ; but we stop for nothing 
 till we have found the plain grey obelisk 
 erected, by penny contributions of the chil- 
 dren of England, to the author of "Robinson 
 Crusoe." In the long run, the right thing 
 happens in this changeful world ; and after 
 two centuries, the neglected grave has re- 
 ceived due honor from those who owe most 
 to the man whose dust it holds. 
 
 I know a bright young girl who says that 
 she would not have cared to have Defoe for 
 a personal acquaintance ; because she should 
 have thought whatever he saidr was in some 
 way a joke at her expense ; but she adds, "I 
 like to know him across the ages." Personal 
 acquaintance with the wiry, active, keen-eyed 
 man may have had its drawbacks. Many a 
 man is interesting in a book who would have 
 been "gey ill to live wi' " through the wear 
 and tear of every day experience; but I 
 should have been willing to be laughed at, if 
 I might have known the man of many ideas, 
 who made even the pillory a center of re- 
 spectful interest and an advertising medium. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 175 
 
 How well he would have fitted into twentieth 
 century life ; what ways he would have found 
 for expending his tremendous energies; and 
 what commotions he would have stirred up, 
 this early Independent in politics and re- 
 ligion, this man who lived the strenuous life 
 in most strenuous wise. 
 
 Not far away, calmly reposing upon his 
 tombstone, a book tucked under his arm, 
 lies that other benefactor of childhood, John 
 Bunyan, who wrote the story of a man who 
 left home, "the book didn't say why," a tale 
 regarding which we must concur with the 
 verdict of Huckleberry Finn, "The state- 
 ments in it was interestin' but tough." 
 
 Everybody should read "Pilgrim's Pro- 
 gress" in childhood ; it never can mean so 
 much at any later period of life. The alle- 
 gory causes no trouble, though it is, all along, 
 subconsciously felt; the book is, to all intents 
 and purposes, a wonderful story of fairies and 
 giants, enchanted palaces, and magic regions ; 
 it is not exceeded in mystery and terror by 
 even the "Arabian Nights." Such, at least, 
 is my personal experience. I grew intimate 
 
176 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 with the book between the ages of six and 
 nine, in the course of long vacations spent on 
 my grandfather's farm. No children's books 
 were found in that Knickerbocker-Puritan 
 household; so my literary appetite satisfied 
 its cravings with an old copy of the "Na- 
 tional Fifth Reader," filled chiefly with se- 
 lections from English writers of the eigh- 
 teenth century; the narrative and poetical 
 portions of the Bible; and, lastly, the work 
 of the inspired tinker of Bedford. 
 
 What delicious thrills of terror I experi- 
 enced as I followed Christian through the 
 Slough of Despond and the- Interpreter's 
 House; past the lions into the House Beau- 
 tiful; saw him imprisoned in the castle of 
 Giant Despair ; watched breathlessly his bat- 
 tle with Apollyon; and hung upon his foot- 
 steps as he made his way through the Valley 
 of Shadow out into the Land of Beulah. 
 
 My "Pilgrim's Progress," which differed 
 in various ways from Bunyan's, had its locale 
 in the maple grove beyond the orchard ; and, 
 on grey, cloudy days, nothing would induce 
 me to pass the orchard fence, unless escorted 
 
IN ENGLAND. 177 
 
 by some able-bodied man of the family, who 
 played, all unwittingly the role of Greatheart 
 to my Christiana or Mercy. This was be- 
 cause I feared lest Apollyon or Giant De- 
 spair might swoop suddenly down and bear 
 me away to some dark fate, forever unknown 
 to my disconsolate relatives. 
 
 These ideas remained securely locked in 
 my own breast. With the reticence of child- 
 hood, I concealed alike my joy in the beauty 
 of the story, my delicious terror over the 
 tragic portions, and my bewilderment at its 
 inconsistencies. For I was bewildered. I 
 never troubled myself about finding any 
 meaning in the book of Revelation, taking 
 for granted that its beauty was all any rea- 
 sonable person ought to expect to find there- 
 in — that was "art for art's sake," if you 
 choose. But I did wonder why, if the City of 
 Destruction were such a dangerous place, 
 Christian should go away without his wife 
 and children. Most of the fathers I knew 
 would have removed their families from such 
 a locality by force, if necessary. Then, too, 
 there was no record that he ever wrote to 
 
178 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 them, sent them any money, or received 
 much information concerning them. Most 
 reprehensible conduct in a husband and 
 .father, this seemed to me ; and yet the au- 
 thor appeared to think Christian's behavior 
 in these respects entirely proper and praise- 
 worthy. 
 
 Despite the puzzles, I loved the book ; and 
 now I love the fiery, brave, restless soul of 
 its author. There are people, very sensible, 
 well-regulated, highly respectable persons, 
 who affirm that the great allegory is the prod- 
 uct of a morbid mind ; and some even de- 
 clare that its author was insane^ Perhaps so ; 
 but if he were, some of the rest of us would 
 like to be afflicted with a mental aberration 
 of the same type. 
 
 Here is the grave of the mother of John, 
 Charles, and seventeen lesser Wesleys. "Su- 
 sannah, a lily," says the dictionary. From 
 what we know of her character, we conclude 
 that this English Cornelia with such a well- 
 filled jewel casket, deserved her name, for 
 purity and sweetness ; but she was not of the 
 lilies that "toil not neither do they spin." 
 
IN ENGLAND. 179 
 
 The modern imagination stands appalled 
 before the audacity of those heads of large 
 families who so coolly assumed responsibility 
 for the temporal and spiritual well-being of so 
 many human souls. To feed and clothe from 
 a dozen to twenty children is somewhat of a 
 task; but that is a minor matter. It is the 
 thought of training them for life with all its 
 possibilities of good or evil that gives one 
 pause — a human soul is so precious; and, 
 when we know so little about our own, it is 
 such a grave responsibility to venture to di- 
 rect the souls of others. Considering the 
 amount of blind experimenting indulged in 
 by parents and teachers, it speaks well for 
 the general tendencies of children that, on 
 the whole, they develop so well. 
 
 We spend a little time in Wesley Memorial 
 Chapel across the street from the cemetery, 
 and then climb to the top of a tram which 
 will take us pretty near to the Bank of Eng- 
 land, the first station on our homeward jour- 
 ney. It is because of weariness, also because 
 we have gone over the ground once on this 
 day, and desire to save time, that we choose 
 
180 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 to return by tram instead of on foot. So we 
 make our way back, passing Finsbury Circus 
 again, threading winding streets whose 
 names have grown familiar in the pages of 
 Dickens, Besant, Hare, and Hutton; change 
 near the Bank to an omnibus; and pursue 
 our tranquil way, catching glimpses, here of 
 the barber-shop that once as a palace shel- 
 tered Henry VIII and his magnificent Car- 
 dinal, then of Holborn Viaduct and the City 
 Temple ; and again of the quaint old houses 
 near Staples' Inn, a sight of which place al- 
 ways revives one's curiosity about the rest 
 of the story of "Edwin Drood." I have in- 
 vented half a dozen conclusions for that grue- 
 some tale, all rather satisfactory in parts ; but 
 I should like to know how Dickens himself 
 would have completed the structure which he 
 began. 
 
 "Ah ! who shall lift that wand of magic power, 
 
 And the lost clue regain? 
 The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower 
 Unfinished must remain." 
 
 Sometimes, if we find ourselves at a spot 
 
IN ENGLAND. f 181 
 
 remote from Queen Square when' the after- 
 noon is drawing to a close, we betake our- 
 selves to the nearest station of the Under- 
 ground Railway, and reach our abiding place 
 by a short cut. As a time-saving device, "the 
 underground" is a success; but, as a pleas- 
 ant means of transit, not much can be said 
 for it. I always feel that I have strayed into 
 one of Dante's upper circles and am doomed 
 to go around and around in it for an indefi- 
 nite period; it is dark even in the station; 
 the air is damp, stuffy, and ill-smelling; and 
 it is exceedingly difficult to find out when 
 one has reached his destination. I say ner- 
 vously to Princess: 
 
 "Can you tell what this station is?" 
 
 She responds gloomily: 
 
 "I do not know whether it is 'Venus Soap' 
 or 'Massawattee Tea;' both names are very 
 much in evidence." 
 
 At last, by dint of much watching, worry- 
 ing and questioning, we manage to effect a 
 landing at the right place. We return to the 
 upper air, feeling that we have made one 
 more escape from the ante-room of the In- 
 
182 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 fernal Regions, and resolved that it will be 
 long ere we again desert the surface of the 
 earth and the brooding of the overarching 
 sky, even to save that most valuable of com- 
 modities to the American, time. 
 
 Another long, delightful day we spent once 
 as I shall tell. We started directly after 
 breakfast, taking an omnibus to Hyde Park. 
 Here we entered near the colossal and rather 
 unmeaning statue called "Achilles," which 
 poses near the drive in order to recall once 
 more the manifold virtues of the Duke of 
 Wellington. How that dignified gentleman 
 would stare, could he see this remarkable ob- 
 ject which a grateful country has set up in 
 his memory. Why Achilles to represent 
 Wellington? Why not Hector? Possibly 
 because the Trojan prince was defeated in his 
 one great military undertaking ; but that was 
 no fault of his, on his merits he should have 
 won; and he presents far more points of re- 
 semblance to the Iron Duke than does the 
 fickle, though fascinating Greek. 
 
 We go along the flower-bordered way, 
 pausing for a glance at Byron, sitting in 
 
IN ENGLAND. 183 
 
 mournful solitude within the railed enclosure 
 at the right. A good portrait of Byron 
 never fails to be a pleasant object to the eye ; 
 for, barring the troublesome foot, he "looks 
 his part" of a poet of generous enthusiasms. 
 Strange it is, that the storms and bitterness 
 of his unhappy life have left so little impress 
 upon his face. Was it because the evil was 
 temporary and the better qualities perma- 
 nent in his strangely mingled nature? 
 
 The great scarlet begonias, mingled with 
 purplish-blue ageratum and other flowers, 
 "lovelier than their names," as they have 
 need to be, so marvelous is their nomencla- 
 ture, beguile our walk, until, without realiz- 
 ing the distance over which we have wander- 
 ed, we find ourselves near the Serpentine. 
 Soon we cross the little bridge, and are in 
 Kensington Gardens, another restful place 
 that seems, this bright summer morning, as 
 remote from the roar and bustle of London 
 as though it were on some distant planet. 
 
 At the farther side of the gardens, we 
 come upon that strange composite, the Al- 
 bert memorial. Here, under a wonderfully 
 
184 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 carved, gilded and colored, Gothic canopy, 
 sits the figure of the Prince Consort, all be- 
 gilt. This, monument furnishes another in- 
 stance of what appears to be the modern 
 English idea of doing honor to the nation's 
 heroes. It seems, for some occult reason, 
 necessary to make the statues as large as 
 possible, and as little as may be in accord- 
 ance with the known habits and tastes of the 
 persons commemorated. Prince Albert was 
 undoubtedly a simple, unassuming gentle- 
 man, of sound judgment and refined tastes; 
 yet he is doomed to sit for ages under this 
 ugly canopy, a tawdry, gilded figure, as in- 
 harmonious with its surroundings as with the 
 nature of the man whom it is meant to honor. 
 The base of the pedestal is both beautiful 
 and symbolic. The sculptured groups rep- 
 resenting Science, Agriculture, Manufac- 
 tures, and Commerce, with those below typi- 
 fying the four quarters of the globe, as well 
 as the bas-reliefs of famous sculptors, poets, 
 musicians and painters, are full of spirit and 
 life ; and suggest the varied interests that oc- 
 cupied the time and thought of the man 
 
IN ENGLAND. 185 
 
 whom England was so fortunate as to claim 
 as the consort of her Queen. 
 
 The group representing America, the slen- 
 der maiden guiding the wild bison by means 
 of a star-tipped wand — intellect and spiritual 
 power subduing and directing the forces of 
 nature — is very striking and suggestive; but 
 in view of the alarm in Europe over Ameri- 
 can aggression (!!) why may we not claim 
 the entire eight groups as our symbols ? 
 
 Speaking of American aggression recalls a 
 conversation in which we shared at the home 
 of a friendly Londoner to whose family we 
 had letters of introduction. The family were 
 very kind to us, entertained us under their 
 roof and showed us various attentions for 
 which we hope they will all be rewarded by 
 those just influences that bring friends to 
 him that showeth himself friendly. 
 
 The man of the house aforesaid had drawn 
 from Princess a vigorous defense of the 
 Union policy during the Civil War ; and find- 
 ing her intractable on that subject, attacked 
 me anent our territorial expansion. After a 
 
186 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 few preliminary passes, I made a home thrust 
 by saying, 
 
 "But we're ,only following the example you 
 set us." 
 
 The gentleman laughed genially as he ad- 
 mitted, 
 
 "Quite right. You see we wish to do all 
 the grabbing ourselves." 
 
 So that international difficulty was amica- 
 bly settled. To tell the truth occasionally, 
 even about one's country, is an effective and 
 wholesome method of clearing up the atmos- 
 phere. 
 
 On this happy pilgrimage, we omitted the 
 interior of the Albert Memorial Hall, and, 
 after lunching comfortably in a little pavilion 
 hard by in the gardens, v/andered on to the 
 South Kensington museum. 
 
 Of course, one cannot see everything 
 worth seeing in this collection in a half-day's 
 visit. It is something to be dipped into that 
 one may determine what is most valuable to 
 himself, and then return to spend as much 
 time as possible with the things he likes. 
 The carved Asiatic woods, together with the 
 
IN ENGLAND. 187 
 
 models of Indian buildings and other archi- 
 tectural reproductions, are possibly the most 
 interesting parts of the vast collection. Miss 
 Bradford one day when she went to the mu- 
 seum with me set the seal of her disapproba- 
 tion upon my favorites, by saying loftily, 
 
 "O, I don't care for these models of cathe- 
 drals, I've seen most of the real buildings." 
 
 One might as well say he did not care for 
 a portrait, because he had some time or other 
 seen its original. In fact, it is with buildings 
 as with nature, we see them best when some 
 one who knows and loves them, calls our at- 
 tention to their especial beauties. The sight 
 of a copy of some building that I know is like 
 coming upon a familiar portrait in a strange 
 gallery; and often the model, being smaller 
 in size and nearer to the eye, reveals interest- 
 ing details overlooked in the original. 
 
 But Miss Bradford represents a class, made 
 up largely, I regret to say, of American wo- 
 men. Their behavior seems to be an out- 
 growth of the belief that knowledge is to be 
 acquired chiefly for purposes of display, and 
 not for one's personal comfort and satisfac- 
 
188 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 tion, nor yet for the elevation of one's 
 thoughts and sentiments; they have knowl- 
 edge, but neither wisdom nor culture. After 
 I have been beset in room after room by the 
 high metallic buzzing of one of these would- 
 be superior persons, I cry out in spirit, if not 
 audibly, "And the L,ord God sent the hor- 
 net;" sit down in a corner to give the crea- 
 ture a chance to move on and away; and fall 
 to self-examination with a view to determin- 
 ing what heinous crime I have committed, 
 that I should be doomed to this particular 
 form of punishment. Whenever I had Miss 
 Bradford on my hands, however, and had not 
 only to endure her dissertations, but the won- 
 dering and pitying, or irritated, glances of 
 the other visitors, I consoled myself with the 
 thought that I was suffering in a good cause. 
 
 Leaving the Museum, we took an omnibus 
 which put us down near Westminster Abbey, 
 where we spent the remainder of the after- 
 noon in the Poets' Corner. 
 
 Princess and I like, occasionally, to visit 
 the Parliament buildings and the Abbey on 
 the same day. Both structures have so much 
 
IN ENGLAND. i8g 
 
 to tell of the history of England and her peo- 
 ple that to go from one to the other is like 
 reading successive chapters in an illustrated 
 serial story. 
 
 The earliest chapter of the story is illu- 
 minated in the series of King Arthur frescoes 
 in the Queen's Robing Room. What a hold 
 that possibly mythical king has taken upon 
 the mind of the western world. If he were 
 not an actual person, he ought to have been ; 
 history has neglected an opportunity, if she 
 did really leave him out. 
 
 The Princes' chamber, with its Tudor por- 
 traits, reminds one again of that royal scoun- 
 drel, King Henry VIII. Truly any fair dame 
 on whom he cast admiring glances, must 
 have felt an almost irresistible inclination to 
 exercise the muscles of her neck in order to 
 make sure that her head was securely fasten- 
 ed in its place. Nor were lovely ladies' heads 
 alone unsafe ; the axe was much in demand in 
 those days for cutting down any object whose 
 outlines disturbed the royal eye. 
 
 In the Commons' Corridor, one pauses to 
 recall his Whittier before the painting of 
 
iqo PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 "Last Sleep of Argyle ;" while in the Peers' 
 Corridor, every American lingers near 
 Cope's "Departure of the Mayflower." If 
 all the consequences of the sailing of that lit- 
 tle boat had been foreseen, would she have 
 been allowed to go ? Yet who, with the wild- 
 est imagination, could have prefigured every- 
 thing in that long chain of events? Then, 
 too, King James had his hands full with the 
 malignants who stayed at home ; and doubt- 
 less, would have been glad, in any case, to 
 purchase a little quiet for himself, though at 
 the price of much trouble for some far-off 
 successor. 
 
 One feels, especially, the intimate relation 
 between the Puritan who stayed at home and 
 him who, more adventurous or less patient, 
 sought a haven in the New Land, when he 
 sees, so near together, this Mayflower pic- 
 ture and that other of the House of Com- 
 mons refusing to give up the five obnoxious 
 members, at the command of a king who 
 overstepped his constitutional authority. 
 What a change in sentiment it marks that 
 such pictures find an honored place here 
 
IN ENGLAND. 191 
 
 among the memorials of England's progress ; 
 and how the most insensible of us must feel 
 the kinship to which these two paintings bear 
 such an eloquent witness. 
 
 St. Stephen's Crypt is an attractive spot, 
 both for its own beauty and its statues of 
 some of the most interesting men who have 
 figured in Parliamentary history. They make 
 up a goodly company; but perhaps the most 
 striking among them is the figure of Hamp- 
 den, the leader of that movement which end- 
 ed by putting into the hands of the people's 
 representatives, among English-speaking 
 races the wide world over, the power of the 
 purse. This statement of the principle may 
 sound mercenary, but it is high political 
 ethics. 
 
 The rooms devoted to the Commons and 
 the Peers are a trifle disappointing. For 
 places wherein such weighty business is. 
 transacted, they seem small and over-crowd- 
 ed; and one turns with a sense of relief to 
 Westminster Hall, the Hall of William Ru- 
 fus, whereof our old friend Macaulay hath 
 had somewhat to say in sounding periods, 
 
192 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 that echo in our ears as we pass through the 
 doorway. The hall was repaired and given a 
 new roof in the days of Richard II, our still 
 older friend, Geoffrey Chaucer, being Mas- 
 ter of the Works. Dan Geoffrey must have 
 been a man both busy and capable. 
 
 From the old hall, we go again to the 
 Chapter House of the Abbey, in honor of the 
 early Parliaments held there, the monks of 
 Westminster, to their credit be it said, hav- 
 ing a healthy and honest belief in govern- 
 ment by the people. 
 
 The early ecclesiastical history is quite 
 fully written in the glass of -the windows. 
 There must have been much rough humor in 
 those old days, if one may judge from the 
 representation of the famous quarrel for pre- 
 cedence between the Primate of England 
 (Archbishop of York) and the Primate of all 
 England (Archbishop of Canterbury). That 
 was a fine distinction, indeed; but then the 
 old theologians were subtle casuists. 
 
 A little peep into the Jericho Parlor and 
 another into the Jerusalem Chamber form 
 not a bad finish for our historical survey. 
 
IN ENGLAND. Ig3 
 
 The latter room is one of the most interest- 
 ing spots hereabouts. There is nothing in 
 particular to see except the paneling of olive- 
 wood from the neighborhood of the Holy 
 City, and a picture of the death of Henry IV. 
 Poor Henry of the stormy life, almost as sad, 
 though it seemed more prosperous, as that of 
 his grandson. 
 
 It is the associations of this room that lend 
 it dignity. Here, Caxton, on his return from 
 Flanders, set up his printing press. Who 
 shall tell whether that venture of his has 
 brought more of good or evil ? Of good, let 
 us hope, since intelligence is ever better than 
 ignorance ; and man must come, at last, 
 though blunderingly and with much travail 
 of soul, into his inheritance of wisdom, his 
 means of subduing the earth and the earthy. 
 Who yet has begun to dream what possibili- 
 ties are wrapped up in that innocent sound- 
 ing phrase: "Subdue the earth?" Shall we 
 some day learn so to control material forces 
 as to direct the rain into an appointed chan- 
 nel, and harness the whirlwind to machines 
 wherewith it shall produce man's bread and 
 
 13 
 
194 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 not destroy it? Shall we, moreover, learn to 
 subdue the earthy in ourselves, and bring 
 about the reign of righteousness and peace 
 in the world? Verily such things as these I 
 do expect, and that ere long, as history 
 counts time ; for the evolution of the world is 
 toward better things. 
 
 In this same room, Elizabeth Woodville, 
 widow of Edward IV, gave into the hands of 
 their loving uncle, Richard of Gloucester, 
 the two young princes whom that strange 
 creature is said to have smothered in the 
 Tower. There are other things to be told of 
 Richard ; without doubt he was intelligent 
 beyond his time, and a patron of learning; 
 but ever across the pages of the impartial 
 historian who seeks to rehabilitate the char- 
 acter of this prince, there falls the shadow of 
 the malignant hunchback of Shakespeare's 
 drama. 
 
 They were an evil brood, those three 
 brothers of the House of York; Edward, a 
 libertine ; George of Clarence, an indolent, 
 weak-minded sot; and Richard, a murderer 
 who cleared his path to the throne by remov- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 195 
 
 ing from it his next of kin, with, apparently, 
 the coolness of a landscape gardener who 
 cuts down the superfluous trees that obstruct 
 a desirable view. It is the fashion with Eng- 
 lish historians to attribute the immoralities 
 of Charles II to his stay in France; where 
 did Edward IV learn so thoroughly the same 
 bad lessons? 
 
 The memory of the ecclesiastical councils 
 and the sessions of the New Testament re- 
 vision committee held here are hardly suffi- 
 cient to dispel the gloom of these darker as- 
 sociations. Accordingly, we go out into the 
 street for a breath of fresh air, and then 
 across to St. Margaret's, the Parliamentary 
 Church. 
 
 Here are memorials to Caxton, Raleigh, 
 Milton, and our own Phillips Brooks ; a no- 
 ble gathering, no one of whom need be 
 ashamed of the society in which he finds him- 
 self. 
 
 Caxton and Raleigh sleep in the church- 
 yard, and so does Milton's "Late espoused 
 saint," and the child who died with her, the 
 
i 9 6 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 characters in the one tender interlude of the 
 Puritan poet's stern life. 
 
 St. Margaret's looks a noble building, even 
 under the shadow of Westminster Abbey; 
 and Dean Farrar must have left it with re- 
 gret, though called to Canterbury. 
 
 We had brought letters of introduction to 
 a family living in Brixton, relatives of some 
 good friend of ours. When they learned 
 that Princess and I were alone in London, 
 they invited us, most cordially and earnestly, 
 to gather up our pilgrim-robes, staves and 
 scallop-shells, or their modern equivalents, 
 umbrellas, hand-bags, dress-suit cases, and 
 shawl-straps, and take up our abode, for the 
 time that remained to us in the city, under 
 their hospitable roof. 
 
 We were introduced to no "marble halls," 
 nor did we meet any members of the royal 
 family or the peerage ; but we did see, in one 
 of its best forms, the quiet home-life of well- 
 to-do, middle-class Londoners. 
 
 Our host, a man whose brilliant dark eyes 
 and silvery hair recalled the portraits of 
 Whittier, and who like our Quaker poet, 
 
IN ENGLAND. 197 
 
 owed those dark eyes to a strain of Hugue- 
 not blood, had been for many years in busi- 
 ness in "the city ;" and now, having accumu- 
 lated a modest independence, he had retired, 
 to spend his declining years in comfort and 
 ease. The family, like the majority of their 
 neighbors, were Non-conformists in religion, 
 and in politics, Liberals. As our hostess had 
 kept up a regular correspondence with her 
 brother in America, the entire connection, 
 knew far more of the extent, population, and 
 resources of the United States than any other 
 English people that it has been my fortune 
 to meet. 
 
 Our host hated the conventional tall hat, 
 which is the only head-gear a self-respecting 
 Englishman allows himself on Sunday ; yet 
 he donned it regularly, and went to his place 
 in the choir of his church ; he was also a 
 member of the special-service choir of St. 
 Paul's, and of the Handel Choral Society of 
 the Crystal Palace ; he had belonged for 
 many years to the choir of Albert Memorial 
 Hall. He had, however, given up his place 
 in this organization because the choir was 
 
198 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 frequently called upon to sing when foreign 
 potentates were entertained, and, as the mu- 
 sical program was usually preceded by a din- 
 ner lasting until eleven o'clock or later, "the 
 hours were too late for a staid elderly man, 
 though it was all very well when I was 
 younger; so, after I'd walked home once or 
 twice at three o'clock in the morning, on ac- 
 count of a scarcity of cabs, I gave it up." 
 
 The family life was peaceful and whole- 
 some. I could not help wondering how many 
 Americans, busines # s men, retiring from ac- 
 tive life, would be content to pass their days 
 as calmly and quietly as this rosy-faced Eng- 
 lishman, who had passed beyond the Psalm- 
 ist's limit of life; but still walked with an 
 elastic step, took a deep interest in the be- 
 nevolences of his church, watched the prog- 
 ress of events in America and the far East, 
 and laughed at a joke with all the enjoyment 
 of a schoolboy. 
 
 The number of meals daily prepared in the 
 house, and the other occasions during the 
 twenty-four hours when refreshments seem- 
 ed necessary to the common welfare, were 
 
IN ENGLAND. 199 
 
 alike appalling. We breakfasted at nine, 
 dined at half-past one, took tea at half-past 
 four, ate supper whenever we reached home 
 after our evening expeditions; and then we 
 had biscuits, lemonade and fruit every time 
 we left the house or returned to it; not to 
 mention cake and tea and the offer of wine 
 whenever we called. 
 
 The question, "Are you a teetotaller?" 
 meets the American at every turn, if he has 
 any social relations with the English; and, 
 while the traveler's "teetotal" notions strike 
 his entertainers as odd, he is never made in 
 the least uncomfortable. I was indeed a tea- 
 totaller ; for I drank more tea in those two 
 weeks than in all the previous years of my 
 mortal pilgrimage; and came near being a 
 nervous wreck, in consequence thereof. 
 There is something about an English tea- 
 table, with the shining teapot smothered, 
 Desdemona-like, under the cosy, the thin 
 slices of bread-and-butter, the delicate 
 sponge-cake and preserves, that is irresisti- 
 ble. It reminds one of Miss Edgeworth, 
 Mrs. Gaskell, and various other delightful 
 
200 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 persons who have glorified this peculiarly 
 British institution; and one feels that she is 
 herself a schoolgirl in short skirts and lone 
 braids, and is beguiled by this illusion into 
 indulging too freely in "the cup that cheers 
 but not inebriates;" but which plays havoc 
 with the nerves of an American spinster un- 
 accustomed to its influences. Remembering 
 Johnson's numberless cups of tea, I no longer 
 wondered that he was sometimes irritable 
 and impatient of contradiction. 
 
 Our good friends helped us to see many 
 interesting things and places. We went to 
 Norwood on the top of an omnibus, a most 
 delightful journey. Here we saw the tomb of 
 Spurgeon, and visited the Greek cemetery. 
 There is, in the heart of London, a numer- 
 ous colony of Greek merchants, who bury 
 their dead in the beautiful cemetery at Nor- 
 wood. The little marble temples with their 
 inscriptions in New Testament Greek were 
 strangely far away and foreign ; yet helped 
 to the realization that the beautiful Hellenic 
 tongue is not even yet a dead language. 
 
 Another day, we went through "the Tube," 
 
IN ENGLAND. 2 oi 
 
 the underground electric railway running 
 beneath the Thames. We came to the sur- 
 face by "lift" near the Mile End Road, along 
 which we made our way to the People's Pal- 
 ace. This is the idea of Besant's "All Sorts 
 and Conditions of Men" reduced to a work- 
 ing reality. What a satisfaction for a man to 
 see his helpful theories crystallize into fact, 
 even during his life on earth. Sir Walter Be- 
 sant does not belong to the first rank of nov- 
 elists ; but he has left his mark for good upon 
 his generation, and many others yet to come. 
 
 The work done by the Beaumont trustees 
 through the People's Palace is thorough and 
 far-reaching. As we strolled along the wide 
 street, looking at the many new buildings, 
 the churches, and the Children's Hospital, 
 our host said, 
 
 "They have done a good work. I well re- 
 member the time, not so very long ago, when 
 it was not safe for a respectably-dressed per- 
 son to walk down here, unless escorted by a 
 policeman." 
 
 A few minutes later, he added, 
 
 "Do you notice the names on these signs? 
 
202 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 Mostly Jewish; they are the people who 
 never miss a chance to better themselves." 
 
 And then Princess told him what our own 
 Jacob Riis has said, 
 
 "The Jew is the leaven of the slum. At 
 the first chance, he rises, and takes the slum 
 with him." 
 
 The gymnasiums were closed for the sum- 
 mer vacation; but the custodian showed us 
 the club rooms, the reading rooms and the 
 library, where sat a goodly number of men 
 enjoying the daily papers and the current 
 magazines; also the playgrounds where chil- 
 dren were regaining their birthright of 
 health-giving, mirthful play. At last, we 
 came to Queen's Hall, the great concert 
 room and lecture room, where men and wo- 
 men with something worth saying are invited 
 to speak ; and where, on Sunday afternoons, 
 the best organists of London discourse mu- 
 sic to a most appreciative audience. 
 
 The custodian spoke of the great numbers 
 of Jews who came to the Palace, and the ea- 
 gerness with which they availed themselves of 
 all the means of improvement there afforded. 
 
SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 203 
 
 He added his testimony to the great changes 
 that had come in the neighborhood. 
 
 From all with whom we spoke on this sub- 
 ject came corroborative evidence. Our land- 
 lady in Queen Square had said before we left 
 her, 
 
 "O, yes, indeed ; there's been a great 
 change in East London. Some places in this 
 vicinity need more attention now than White- 
 chapel or Mile End Road." 
 
 This we could easily believe ; for never 
 anywhere, even in the poorest quarters of 
 Naples, have I seen so many such dirty chil- 
 dren as in the cross-streets and alleys of re- 
 spectable Bloomsbury. 
 
 One evening, as we rode down to the East 
 India Docks, on the top of a tram, a young 
 girl of perhaps twenty, to whom we address- 
 ed some questions, replied, 
 
 "O, yes, ma'am; within my memory things 
 have changed here until you'd never know it 
 for the same place." 
 
 The elderly and middle-aged people talked 
 with us freely and kindly ; and the young 
 men who went and came during our long 
 
204 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 ride, were quiet and well-behaved. There is 
 yet much work to do, and many conditions 
 to change, but there is ground for hope of 
 still better things; and steadily accumulating 
 proof everywhere that what the poor need, 
 and, though sometimes unconsciously, long 
 for, is not charity, hut justice. When we 
 learn that what we are pleased to call "the 
 lower classes" are men and women of like 
 passions with ourselves, just what we our- 
 selves should be under the same circum- 
 stances; when we meet them on that ground; 
 then, slowly, hut surely, through many blun- 
 ders and heartaches and much exercise of pa- 
 tience on both sides, will come the reign of 
 justice and good sense among mankind; and, 
 with them, love and good will. This wan- 
 dering about the highways and byways of a 
 foreign city brings home to us very forcibly 
 how much alike we all are, in essentials. 
 
 Our host took us on various Dickens pil- 
 grimages, for he is a lover of Oliver Twist, 
 Barnaby Rudge and the rest of the goodly 
 company of oddities that throng the pages of 
 "Boz." lie pointed out to us one day, in a 
 
IN ENGLAND. 205 
 
 narrow passage leading off Kenchurch street, 
 a tin sign inscribed "Dombey and Son;" 1 > ti t 
 we saw nothing of Florence, Walter, or little 
 Paul. We also found the site of David Cop- 
 perfield's warehouse near Blackfriars Bridge. 
 In the Borough Road is the successor of 
 Chaucer's Tabard Inn, which is the identical 
 hostelry in whose courtyard we are intro- 
 duced to him who in time becomes our friend 
 — everybody's friend — Samuel Weller. In 
 St. George's churchyard nearby, is the wall 
 of the old Marshalsea prison, the scene of the 
 trials 
 and 
 triumphs 
 of 
 J. Wilkins Micawber. 
 We go again to the Bell Yard, to the Old 
 Curiosity Shop (and buy curiosities) to 
 Staple Inn and through the various streets 
 that still bear the names we long ago learned 
 to know and love in the row of dark green 
 books standing at a convenient height on our 
 shelves. It is gratifying to realize how much 
 of Dickens' London geography has become 
 
206 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 obsolete, because of the sweeping away of 
 abuses which he attacked so vigorously as to 
 compel their disappearance. 
 
 While in the Borough Road, we dropped in 
 at old St. Saviour's Church, one of the most 
 interesting in London. Here lie buried John 
 Gower and John Howard; here, too, lies the 
 dust of Edmund Shakespeare and of Mas- 
 singer and Fletcher, each of whom has a 
 memorial window. It seems to have been a 
 church loved of the player-folk of Elizabethan 
 days ; or were they buried here because of 
 its proximity to the theaters, near which the 
 actors doubtless lived? 
 
 Before the altar of the ancient building, 
 James I. of Scotland was married to that 
 Lady Joan Beaufort whom he had watched 
 so often as she walked in the gardens at 
 Windsor. The parish of St. Savior's expects 
 that ere long its church will be made a cathe- 
 dral and divide honors with Westminster 
 Abbey. 
 
 We made visits to the National Gallery, the 
 Tate Gallery, and the National Portrait Gal- 
 lery, all places where one may profitably 
 
IN ENGLAND. 207 
 
 spend weeks in study of the pictures. We 
 took many a peep into the Guild Hall with 
 its treasures of historical relics. We wander- 
 ed down St. Martin's Lane and chaffered with 
 the dealers in Wedgewood ware. One after- 
 noon and evening we spent at the Crystal 
 Palace. This is a favorite resort for middle- 
 class Londoners in summer, and is well worth 
 visiting. 
 
 During a large part of the afternoon, we 
 sat out of doors listening and looking on at 
 a vaudeville performance. It was not special- 
 ly interesting; but it was entirely harmless, 
 and afforded an opportunity for the display 
 of pretty costumes and much graceful posing 
 and marching. There seemed to be some 
 thread of plotconnecting thevarious episodes, 
 but what it was I am not prepared to say, 
 as no two of our company were ever able 
 to agree about the matter. Princess says I 
 went to sleep, and perhaps I did ; my chair 
 was comfortable, the air was cool, and the 
 music soothing. 
 
 We had refreshments, of course, in the 
 large main hall; and then, from the balcony, 
 
208 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 witnessed the evolutions of a company of 
 well-trained girls on bicycles. 
 
 The most interesting things in the Palace 
 were not the seats of the vast choir and or- 
 chestra, among which the great organ seems 
 lost, nor the curiosities exhibited in the mid- 
 dle of the hall ; but the succession of courts 
 displaying in chronological order the various 
 styles of architecture from that of ancient 
 Nineveh to the building of modern times ; 
 and in the balcony, the collection of pictures 
 commemorating the deeds for which the Vic- 
 toria Cross has been conferred. 
 
 When darkness came on, we -went outside 
 to look at the fireworks, a truly beautiful dis- 
 play, evidently a source of great pleasure to 
 the onlooking crowds. The Palace, by day, 
 looks rather dull and dingy, more like a fac- 
 tory than a palace ; but, seen from the ter- 
 races at night when it is illuminated, and gar- 
 landed outside with festoons of gas-jets under 
 colored globes, it seems a fairy palace indeed. 
 
 Among the interesting things to be seen in 
 South London are the Peabody Buildings, 
 model homes for workingmen ; the working- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 209 
 
 men's hotels, Christ Church with its spire in 
 memory of Lincoln, and Lambeth Palace. 
 
 The American feels proud of his national- 
 ity when he sees the Peabody Buildings and 
 thinks of the combined good sense and good 
 will that produced them. The spire of Christ 
 church also causes a throb of pride. The 
 homely, wise and kindly man, our "middle- 
 class country's middle-class president," here 
 receives due honor where once he was misun- 
 derstood and ridiculed. 
 
 Lambeth Palace, the London residence of 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury, has a pictur- 
 esque Gothic gate-way, and a library filled 
 with choice manuscripts and interesting pic- 
 tures ; but is somewhat shorn of its ancient 
 glory now that the Archbishop no longer 
 goes by the water-gate to his state barge on 
 the Thames. Water-gates and state-barges 
 are things of the long ago; and a wide 
 thoroughfare now separates the palace gar- 
 den wall from the river that once lapped 
 against its sides. 
 
 In the parish church hard by the Palace is 
 a small window called the Peddler's Window, 
 14 
 
2io PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 commemorating the peddler who bequeathed 
 to the parish the famous acre that now makes 
 so large a part of the parochial wealth. 
 
 In connection with our visit to Lambeth 
 Palace, we were told a story of Archbishop 
 Temple, an incident that occurred when he 
 was Head Master of Rugby School. It 
 seems that Dr. Temple's rule was stern but 
 just, and the lads respected while they feared 
 him. On the occasion of some breach of dis- 
 cipline, when it seemed likely that one of the 
 lads, a poor boy, was to suffer punishment 
 for a deed that he had not committed, be- 
 cause he was remaining silent rather than 
 bring blame upon another, a boy not con- 
 cerned in the affair, but acquainted with all 
 the circumstances, wrote home to his father a 
 full statement of the case, adding, 
 
 "I wish you would see or write to the Mas- 
 ter about it ; for ought not to be 
 
 punished, he had nothing to do with the af- 
 fair and is keeping quiet because he doesn't 
 care to tattle. Temple will make it all right 
 when he knows; of course, he's a beast, but 
 lie's a just beast," 
 
IN ENGLAND. 211 
 
 And on that consciousness the heart of the 
 schoolboy leans, when he finds the quality 
 of fairness in comrade or leader. In this case 
 the confidence was not misplaced. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CONCERNING ENGLISH RAILWAYS. 
 
 For some days before leaving London, we 
 were busy visiting railway offices and tourist's 
 agencies, trying to determine upon the most 
 direct route to the southern Cathedral towns. 
 We hoped to be able to buy tickets for the 
 entire journey from London to Liverpool. 
 In this we failed; incidentally, however, we 
 learned many things about the management 
 of English railways. 
 
 At this time the traveling public was in a 
 great state of irritation over the crowded 
 condition of the coaches, and the inadequate 
 supply of porters at the stations of certain 
 railways. The "Times" and other journals 
 published daily irate communications from 
 "Citizen," "Traveler," etc., wherein were re- 
 lated the woes of the British tourist, his hat- 
 boxes, his hold-all, his bags, bundles, um- 
 brellas and hampers, and his little tin trunks 
 (English "boxes"). 
 
IN ENGLAND. 213 
 
 On application to the London and South- 
 western Railway Co., we were furnished with 
 a most formidable volume yclept a time- 
 table, which after much cogitation we man- 
 aged to understand. But, lo, when we had 
 found the time of arrival and departure of 
 certain trains which appeared promising, we 
 discovered in a footnote the following state- 
 ment : 
 
 "This schedule does not mean that trains 
 will leave the station at the hours named, 
 only that they will not leave before those 
 hours." 
 
 I considered this a highly humorous pro- 
 duction, but Princess was vexed. She is or- 
 derly and punctual ; and while in the main 
 good-natured, objects to starting on a jour- 
 ney without some reasonable degree of cer- 
 tainty as to the time when she will arrive at 
 her destination. But I, even now, can not 
 recall that footnote without feeling that I 
 have unearthed a rich joke. 
 
 During our progress through Southern 
 England, we found that this paragraph was 
 not intended as a pleasantry; was, indeed, a 
 
214 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 solemn statement of actual fact. When we 
 were about to leave Salisbury, we hurried to 
 the station in great disorder cutting short 
 our luncheon in order to catch a train that 
 was fabled to leave at two o'clock. After 
 waiting nearly an hour, we were told by our 
 consoler, the porter, that the local divinities 
 had decided to make up a "h'extry," and 
 thereby give an opportunity for departure to 
 those unreasonable and impatient persons 
 unwilling to wait longer for the express. 
 The porter, with his assistant, gathered up 
 our belongings and we meekly follow- 
 ed them to the coach that- had been se- 
 lected for us. We were informed that we 
 must change cars at Templecombe (Temple- 
 coom) and Evercreek, possibly also at Glas- 
 tonbury; though as to this last he was not 
 certain. "But," he magnanimously added, as 
 Ned handed him his largesse of coppers, "ye 
 can h'ahsk w'en ye git there, sir." 
 
 When we had progressed a little way out- 
 side the good city of Salisbury, we were sud- 
 denly side-tracked, and had the pleasure of 
 seeing the express ( ?) for which we had wait- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 215 
 
 ed so long and vainly, pass by on the other 
 side like the Levite of the parable. Indeed 
 I doubt if even that unpleasant man could 
 have been half so haughty in manner. 
 
 We did not change at Evercreek but did 
 at Glastonbury ; so much for our porter's in- 
 formation. We "h'ahsked" every official who 
 came within our reach during the journey, 
 and no two agreed in their statements. 
 
 One day, as we were going from Warwick 
 to Kenilworth, we discovered that our train 
 had suddenly stopped, with no station in 
 sight. We learned that the reason for the 
 delay was the heinous conduct of an Ameri- 
 can in the next compartment who had enter- 
 ed it without having provided himself with a 
 ticket. He had hurried in, it seemed, at the 
 last minute, and was willing, nay eager, to 
 pay his fare; but, as this was a proceeding out- 
 side the guard's experience, and he knew not 
 what might be the result of such a departure, 
 we were obliged to sit there while the golden 
 moments slipped away, and listen to an ex- 
 planation, given by our compatriot/ of the 
 rebate system as practiced on American rail- 
 
2i6 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 ways. The explanation was entirely clear 
 and rational, but utterly thrown away upon 
 the guard. At last, the two effected soma 
 sort of a compromise, and we moved on. 
 
 Princess murmured. 
 
 "Stupid ! which was worse, to hold the 
 train and argue half an hour, or let that man 
 pay his fare and go on?" 
 
 Whereto I replied, 
 
 "The latter would have been the sensible 
 thing, of course, but utterly without prece- 
 dent in this guard's experience; and might if 
 done, have resulted in a compound fracture 
 of the British Constitution." 
 
 The American traveler always feels that he 
 ought to be a missionary to British railway 
 officials, and convert them from the error of 
 their ways, to such an extent, at least, as 
 would cause those at Lincoln to know how 
 many times and where the traveler must 
 "change carriages" before reaching Rugby. 
 
 But he — or she — who makes such efforts 
 spends himself for naught. "Ephraim is join- 
 ed to his idols." I have listened by the half- 
 hour while Miss Bradford expounded to por- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 217 
 
 ters, guards and baggagemen the superior 
 methods by which railroads are managed in 
 the United States of America. She gave 
 them much useful information, and told them 
 many wholesome truths. But she might as 
 the Scotch proverb has it, "hae keepit her 
 breath to cool her parritch." I doubt if they 
 even heard her ; certainly they gave no heed 
 to her admonitions. When all is said, we 
 must own that if the British public like their 
 present system of traveling accommodations 
 (?) they have a perfect right to enjoy it to 
 the utmost. On the other hand, if we do not 
 like it, we have a choice of three methods of 
 procedure; to stay at home and escape it; 
 to go to England, see and hear everything in- 
 teresting that we can, and bear the antiquat- 
 ed railway arrangements with resignation; 
 or last and best, regard them as the series of 
 jokes that, to an unbiased mind they certainly 
 are. This last method helps to oil the ma- 
 chinery and greatly lessens the friction of 
 traveling. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ROYAI, WINCHESTER. 
 
 We finally prepared a tentative itinerary 
 for our tour through the south of England, 
 subject to the approval of our friends and the 
 inconsistencies of the weather and the rail- 
 ways; and one bright morning joined Miss 
 Bradford, Helen and Ned, they having re- 
 turned from the Continent the previous even- 
 ing, at Waterloo Station, preparatory to 
 starting for Winchester. 
 
 As soon as we saw our three fellow-travel- 
 ers, we knew that their adventures in Paris 
 had been of an interesting nature. We were 
 tingling with curiosity; but, of course, dared 
 ask no questions. 
 
 That evening, after Princess and I had 
 gone to our room in the George Inn at Win- 
 chester, there came a light tap at our door; 
 and in response to our "Come in," Helen en- 
 tered in her pink kimona, with her dark hair 
 floating over her shoulders. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 219 
 
 "I knew that you were dying to hear what 
 had happened in Paris," she said when Prin- 
 cess had given her a chair and returned to 
 her bed to curl up, like myself, among the 
 
 pillows. 
 
 "You had perhaps noticed that Auntie was 
 a little cool to Mr. Andrus before we left 
 London?" 
 
 We nodded. 
 
 "To spare your feelings, personal and 
 cousinly, I will refrain from telling you what 
 she said from time to time about Western- 
 ers, and especially about young men from 
 Chicago, educated at small 'inland institu- 
 tions, called colleges.' As she has experi- 
 enced a change of feeling, it is unnecessary to 
 repeat what she has probably forgotten by 
 this time." 
 
 Princess sat bolt upright and punched her 
 pillows vigorously, but said nothing. Helen 
 stopped speaking and smiled roguishly at the 
 
 fire. 
 
 "Go on" commanded Princess at length, 
 "we are consumed with curiosity." 
 
 "Well, you know Auntie has always 
 
220 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 thought she could speak French. She can 
 ask about 'the purple silk parasol of my 
 grandmother's cousin's mother-in-law,' and 
 other things of like importance, beautifully; 
 but in Paris people talk about quite different 
 matters and they do it rapidly. So Auntie 
 developed a new theory; she gave up trying 
 to speak French, which the Parisians evi- 
 dently didn't understand ; she said probably 
 they spoke a dialect, which wasn't like the 
 language in the books. She seemed to think, 
 at least she acted on that principle, that if 
 she only spoke loudly enough and in very 
 broken English, she could not fail to be un- 
 derstood. I wish you could have heard her." 
 
 We wished so, too, Miss Minerva shriek- 
 ing in broken English must have been a 
 spectacle for men and angels. 
 
 Helen went on, "She nearly came to blows 
 with one of the officials in the Louvre one 
 day, because he insisted upon knowing the 
 contents of a package she was carrying. She 
 read him a long lecture on the beauty of 
 minding one's own business; this greatly 
 amused all the visitors in the gallery and be- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 221 
 
 wildered the poor man, who could only shrug 
 his shoulders and spread out his hands, all the 
 while politely insisting, as was his duty, that 
 he must know what was in that package. 
 
 "One day when she had no money in her 
 pocket, she climbed to the top of an omnibus 
 without noticing that the vehicle had not 
 waited for me. She was carried several 
 blocks before she could make the man let her 
 off. He stood on the platform and watched 
 her until she met me. I imagine he thought 
 she was a lunatic and 1 a careless keeper. 
 
 "Finally, she came near being arrested for 
 refusing to pay a cabman what he asked 
 when he was right and she mistaken in her 
 resistance. In the midst of the fracas, Mr. 
 Andrus, who had came that day to a hotel 
 across the street, and who like every one else, 
 had had his attention attracted by the noisy 
 dispute, came over, paid the cabman, satis- 
 fied the policeman, and explained things to 
 Auntie. 
 
 "Since that she has hardly allowed him out 
 of her sight in her waking hours ; and with 
 his knowledge of the city, and his wide ac- 
 
222 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 quaintance with art and music students, — he 
 helped us to see more of Paris in five days 
 than we could have seen in as many months 
 without his aid." 
 
 So the prophecy of Princess and her wish 
 had alike been fulfilled, and Ned had became 
 in Miss Bradford's eyes very like a minister- 
 ing angel. 
 
 The old Saxon capital, the Caerleon of the 
 Arthurian legends, is beautiful enough to be 
 the center of all the interesting bits of his- 
 tory and tradition that cluster about it. The 
 I (ley, an ideal trout stream, clear and swift, 
 with amber lights, like one of our own moun- 
 tain brooks, winds at the north end of the 
 town. It bends towards the old city in grace- 
 ful salute, then turns away again to look af- 
 ter its own multifarious business. One un- 
 derstands perfectly why Walton was an en- 
 thusiastic angler, even if he had never known 
 the Lea. Any person with a spark of appre- 
 ciation of the goods the gods provide, must 
 needs "be quiet and go a-fishing" if it be his 
 fortune to dwell beside this little river. 
 
 One may follow for some time both the 
 
IN ENGLAND. 223 
 
 river and the city wall; but, after a while, 
 he is forced to choose between them. If he 
 follow the wall, he comes at last to the noble 
 buildings of Wykenham's college. They are 
 ideally situated; but, despite the democratic 
 motto, this college touches most Americans 
 less nearly than Eton and Rugby. 
 
 There are many delightful walks in and 
 around Winchester; one may climb to the 
 hill outside the gate, beyond the river, and 
 see the town and its environs spread like a 
 map at his feet. He may stray along the 
 crooked streets, through the Butter Market 
 with its graceful Gothic cross. He may take 
 the southward road through the beautiful 
 country to Saint Cross Hospital, whose 
 buildings, substantial and quaint, seem an 
 original part of the neighboring town. 
 
 There is also the County Hall, which in- 
 cludes the old Castle of Winchester, the royal 
 residence of the Saxon kings, and some even 
 of the early Norman ones. Inside the castle, 
 there hangs on the wall, a relic in which I, for 
 one, should like to believe, the so-called 
 Round Table of King Arthur. It is only the 
 
224 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 oaken top of a large circular table; and one 
 guide-book says it is not older than the time 
 of King Stephen ; but the custodian assures 
 his willing listeners that it dates from the 
 time of Egbert, and was used as a council- 
 table when Royal Winchester was the moth- 
 er city of England. 
 
 Certainly Henry VII, with a touch of ro- 
 mance from his Welsh ancestry, believed in 
 the table and caused to be put around it the 
 iron band which has so long kept the treas- 
 ured relic from falling to pieces. 
 
 With characteristic thrift the king charged 
 the expense of putting on the band and paint- 
 ing the table to his good and loyal city ; and, 
 accordingly, the records of Winchester bear 
 witness for an outlay of thirty pounds for the 
 above mentioned work, done in preparation 
 for the christening of the Prince Arthur 
 whose name testifies to his royal father's love 
 for the legends of the blameless king. 
 
 The table is painted in alternate segments 
 of green and white, and in one segment is 
 represented the king — in the robes of the 
 Tudor period ; in the middle is painted the 
 
IN ENGLAND. 225 
 
 Tudor rose, and the names of the knights 
 are done in black-letter in the spelling of the 
 fifteenth century as used by Sir Thomas Ma- 
 lory. 
 
 Below the table, in the wall, is a contriv- 
 ance after the pattern of a horse's ear, where- 
 by, we are told, William the Conqueror, him- 
 self unseen, was wont to listen to the conver- 
 sation of those gathered in the Hall. 
 
 The grounds of St. Brede's Abbey, now 
 the city park, afford a most picturesque 
 lounging-place for one's idle hours. This is 
 certainly a wise and beneficent use of an old 
 monastic foundation. It must certainly be 
 well for a community to spend its evenings 
 and holidays in a spot so full of quiet beauty. 
 
 Last of all, there is the Cathedral. Really, 
 one could ask nothing better than be allowed 
 to take up his abode in Winchester for an 
 entire summer, and during that period forget 
 that such things as railways exist. In case 
 of an unexpected attack of nostalgia, South- 
 ampton and her steamship docks lie conven- 
 iently near. 
 
 The noble avenue of lime trees leading in 
 15 
 
226 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 a semi-circular sweep to the front of the 
 Cathedral forms a fitting prelude to the in- 
 terior of the building. As a whole the ex- 
 terior is somewhat disappointing. At first 
 sight the effect is squatty; but the vast 
 length and breadth of the massive pile, and 
 its stately west front, end by leaving upon 
 the mind an impression of grandeur and sta- 
 bility. 
 
 For a building apparently so low, when 
 seen from without, it produces an effect of 
 wonderful height when one enters. This is 
 dounbtless due both to the character of the 
 roof and the dignified simplicity of the clus- 
 tered pillars, which sweep in an unbroken 
 line, past triforium gallery and clerestory 
 from floor to ceiling. 
 
 In some respects, Winchester Cathedral is 
 even more interesting than Westminster Ab- 
 bey. Its memorials to greatness are fewer, 
 made with more discrimination; and, there- 
 fore, have their full effect upon eye and 
 mind. 
 
 We happened to arrive near service-time, 
 and some official beguiled us into the choir. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 227 
 
 Here we admired the beautiful carving of 
 stalls and canopies and that miracle of white 
 stone, the reredos; and, incidentally, we 
 watched the evolutions of a functionary with 
 a silver-headed stick, who between readings 
 and chantings escorted various ecclesiastics 
 to and from their seats. The service was 
 mumbled, the singing was poor; and a man 
 in skirts is a ludicrous object, especially when 
 the skirts are just long enough for the man 
 to kick them up with his heels when he walks. 
 If robes and draperies are to be a part of a 
 clergyman's dress, why not have them grace- 
 ful and dignified? Such reading as we heard 
 here is calculated to make one think favor- 
 ably of Sir Roger de Coverly's plan for equip- 
 ping a clergyman. 
 
 When we made our escape at the close of 
 the service, we rejoiced in the feast before us. 
 The Cathedral, having been long a-building, 
 presents almost every variety of Gothic dec- 
 oration, from the round Norman arches of 
 the eastern portion to the perpendicular 
 windows of the west end. 
 
 Such different persons are buried here as 
 
228 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 William Rufus — if indeed he be — William 
 Longsword, Jane Austen, and Izaak Walton. 
 
 The author of the book on Winchester in 
 Bell's Cathedral Series, calls attention to 
 the fact that there is in the north aisle a 
 monument to "J ane Austen, the novelist, 
 youngest daughter of the rector of Steven- 
 ton in Hampshire," and with this brief no- 
 tice dismisses the subject. One somehow 
 gathers that in this gentleman's eyes Jane 
 Austen's relationship to the rector of Steven- 
 ton is of greater importance than her re- 
 nown as a novelist, of which evidently he has 
 heard but dim rumors. One- can fancy a 
 twinkle in the lady's eye, if she could read 
 this notice; for she ever appreciated a good 
 joke. I wonder if the slower-witted neigh- 
 bors did not sometimes feel a trifle uncom- 
 fortable in the presence of the rector's 
 slightly satirical daughter, knowing that she 
 saw very clearly through all their little shifts 
 and shams; feeling vaguely that she found 
 something amiss with them, though they did 
 not know what it could be. 
 
 If one desires real history, if he wishes to 
 
IN ENGLAND. ~ 229 
 
 see middle-class life in well-to-do country 
 neighborhoods in the closing years of the 
 eighteenth century and the beginning of the 
 nineteenth, let him study Jane Austen. Here 
 are genuinely historical novels, though there 
 rings through them no clash of swords or 
 clank of spurs, and not one of her respectable 
 clergymen or substantial country squires was 
 ever heard to say "Splendor of God" or "By 
 my halidome." Miss Austen wrote of life 
 as she knew it, and might have inscribed 
 upon each of her title-pages the words of that 
 tiresome prig, pins Aeneas, "All of which I 
 saw, and a great part of which I was." 
 
 Not far away from the novelist's monu- 
 ment stands the old Norman font which is 
 one of Winchester's treasures. Upon the 
 sides of this irregularly quadrilateral vessel is 
 carved the legend of St. Nicholas and the 
 three dowerless maidens. The carving is 
 done in the usual naive style of the unknown 
 decorators who in olden days covered so 
 many square feet of stone with the legends 
 of saint and martyr, giving to the common 
 people, in characters which they could un- 
 derstand, both Bibles and books of devotion. 
 
230 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 This series of miracles inspires great re- 
 spect for the common sense and benevolence 
 of the saint in question. Since, in those days, 
 it was a great calamity for a young woman 
 to pass her twentieth birthday unwedded ; 
 and since she could not hope to marry to any 
 advantage if she were dowerless, what kinder 
 and more practical deed could good St. Nich- 
 olas have done than this of providing three 
 penniless maidens with the means of becom- 
 ing respectable and respected matrons in the 
 shortest possible time? 
 
 One cares little for William Rufus or 
 Longsword, or even poor Queen Mary's 
 chair, when it is possible to stand by the 
 tomb of Jane Austen, or in the chapel of 
 Silkstede at the far end of the church, to 
 read the inscriptions upon the stone that cov- 
 ers the gentle Angler. All who are fond of 
 tramps by wood and stream, all who love the 
 ripple of brooks, the song of birds, the color 
 and perfume of wild-flowers, must have a 
 kindly feeling for Walton, even though ad- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 231 
 
 verse circumstances have prevented their 
 committing his masterpiece to memory. 
 
 The epitaphs on the tombstones in the 
 Cathedral close are interesting reading; and 
 among them there is one that is so full of 
 truly Saxon and bucolic spirit that it will bear 
 transcription here : 
 
 In Memory of 
 
 Thomas Thetcher. 
 
 a grenadier in the North Regt. of Hants Militia, who 
 
 died of a violent Fever contracted by drinking Small 
 
 Beer when hot the 12th of May, 1764, Aged 26 years. 
 
 In grateful remembrance of whose universal good 
 will toward his Comrades, this Stone is placed here at 
 their expence as a small testimony of their regard and 
 concern. 
 
 Here sleeps in peace a Hampshire Grenadier, 
 Who caught his death by drinking cold small Beer. 
 Soldiers, be wise from his untimely fall, 
 And when yere hot, drink strong or not at all. 
 This memorial being decayed was restored by the 
 Officers of the Garrison, A. D. 1781. 
 
 An honest soldier never is forgot 
 Whether he died by Musket or Pot. 
 This stone was placed by the North Hants Militia 
 when disembodied at Winchester on 26th April, 1802, 
 in consequence of the original stone being destroyed. 
 
232 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 One can readily see how much importance 
 is attached to the solemn warning conveyed 
 by the untimely fate of Thomas, since the 
 original stone has been twice replaced by a 
 new one. Further evidence to the same pur- 
 port is afforded by the fact that the writer 
 who dismisses Jane Austen's tomb with such 
 scant notice, copies in full the inscription 
 upon this monument. 
 
 It was at Winchester that we first observ- 
 ed that while Aunt Minerva grew daily more 
 friendly to our cousin, Helen seemed more 
 and more to avoid him, so that he scarcely 
 ever had an opportunity to speak to her. 
 
 "Don't worry, dear," said Princess to me. 
 "It will be all right. While Aunt Minerva 
 was in the opposition, it was an interesting 
 game to dodge and get ahead of her. But 
 now that obstacles are removed and she re- 
 alizes how much in earnest Ned is, the little 
 girl is frightened. And, really, she has 
 known him such a short time, it is only natur- 
 al that she should put him off as long as pos- 
 sible. I feel like helping her, now. It won't 
 hurt Mr. Ned to wait and wonder for a time; 
 
IN ENGLAND. 233 
 
 it takes a great deal to discourage him, re- 
 member. Besides, it will be his "innings" 
 again when we are on board the steamer ; he 
 told me yesterday that he had engaged his 
 passage on the Berneland, with some diffi- 
 culty, as it was so late. He'll have ten days 
 free from Aunt Minerva and in general from 
 me. You'll have to be the discreet duenna." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 SALISBURY. 
 
 Salisbury, like Winchester, is beautiful for 
 situation. Here, also, the Ifly skirts the 
 town and renews its invitation to go a-gypsy- 
 ing to all and sundry who watch its dimpling 
 smiles and give ear to its seductive voice. 
 
 Of course, the chief attraction is the Ca- 
 thedral whose lofty spire can be seen for 
 miles in all directions. Every cathedral has 
 its own especial beauty; and in trying to 
 think which is the favorite, one recalls Ferdi- 
 nand's boyish confession: 
 
 "For several virtues 
 Have I liked several women." 
 
 Salisbury Cathedral has many beauties, 
 but chief among them, and eclipsing all the 
 rest, is the spire, exactly right, not an inch 
 too high or too low, one of the few perfectly 
 satisfying objects in a sometimes unsatisfac- 
 tory world. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 235 
 
 Hard by Salisbury is the little village of 
 Bemerston, with its tiny, quaint church, whose 
 rector, once on a time, was Holy George 
 Herbert. The modest building, overgrown 
 with ivy and shadowed by evergreens, is lov- 
 ed of those who know well the verses, often 
 commonplace, sometimes whimsical, but 
 sometimes also, as in "Sunday" and the "Pul- 
 ley," exquisitely beautiful, of the Country 
 Parson. 
 
 He is as sweet and wholesome among the 
 loud-voiced royalist singers of his day as a 
 sprig of delicate lavender; a fitting com- 
 panion for Jeremy Taylor and that Puritan 
 malignant at whom both clergymen would 
 doubtless have looked askance, John Milton. 
 
 Not far away in another direction is Ames- 
 bury, to whose legendary convent, Guinevere 
 retired to mourn her sins and learn to value 
 justly the great heart, that all unnoted of her, 
 had beat so steadily beside her for years. 
 
 Near to Salisbury, also, is Stonehenge. 
 The walk thereto, through Old Sarum, is 
 pleasant, like all rural walks in England, 
 whether in sun or shower, provided the cows 
 
236 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 remain considerately in the background. 
 However, on this pilgrimage, I was protect- 
 ed by all my companions, who kindly refrain- 
 ed from laughing at my fears, a style of be- 
 havior which I appreciate highly, having 
 often met with another variety. It is humili- 
 ating enough to scramble over the nearest 
 fence at sight of a cow — warranted inoffen- 
 sive — without having one's feelings further 
 lacerated by the jeers of the uncomprehend- 
 ing. 
 
 Stonehenge is mysterious and awe-inspir- 
 ing, both because of its measureless antiquity 
 and because despite all theories, no one 
 knows for what it was intended. Each visi- 
 tor has therefore the privilege of calling the 
 circle of stones whatever seems good to him, 
 and of assigning to it any date previous to 
 Caesar's conquest, without fear of successful 
 contradiction. 
 
 But to Salisbury and its environs we must 
 bid farewell ; for southward lies King Ar- 
 thur's country, the Vale of Avalon. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 WELLS AND GLASTONBURY. 
 
 Safe hidden in Avalon's island-vale 
 
 He sleeps, the king who knew nor shame nor fear; 
 
 The blameless knight who finds no mate or peer 
 
 In song or legend, history, or tale 
 
 Told by the winter-fire, while night-winds wail, 
 
 To eager youth and age. Long by the mere 
 
 Lonely and sad might pace Sir Bedivere, 
 
 On the white sands, and watch the lessening sail 
 
 That bore his lord away. He comes no more. 
 
 But he shall live again in song and rhyme, 
 
 Shall be a well-loved man for many a day, 
 
 As long as ocean's wave beats England's shore, 
 
 Till rolling cycles bring an end to time 
 
 And pain and loss forever pass away. 
 
 We took up our quarters at Wells in a tiny 
 hotel called the Clarence, and the following 
 was the occasion and manner of our going 
 thereto. We met one day in London a lady 
 who had been our fellow-passenger across 
 the Atlantic. From Liverpool and Chester 
 she had gone to Bath and Wells, and was 
 
238 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 making her way in reverse over the route 
 that we had laid out for ourselves. She gave 
 us several bits of valuable information and 
 the address of a house in Jubilee Terrace, 
 Wells, where she had been very comfortable. 
 
 It was a hot, uncomfortable summer after- 
 noon when we arrived at Wells. We found 
 in charge of the station one old man, very 
 deliberate of speech and movement; and no- 
 where in sight was anything in the least re- 
 sembling a cab. We made inquiries for Ju- 
 bilee Terrace. The Ancient Mariner of an 
 official " 'Ad never 'eard of such a place, 
 mum." To his tender mercies we at length 
 left our baggage and set forth to seek this 
 Land of Promise. 
 
 From every person of whom we inquired 
 we received an answer, varying slightly in 
 form, but equivalent in substance to that 
 given by the station-master. Evidently no 
 one in those parts had ever heard of Jubilee 
 Terrace. We began to think we must have 
 dreamed about the place; though as Ned 
 observed it was remarkable that five dif- 
 
IN ENGLAND. 239 
 
 ferent individuals should have had an identi- 
 cal dream. 
 
 At last, seeing on a neighboring fence a 
 painted hand pointing toward the legend 
 "The Clarence, Temperance Hotel," we de- 
 cided to wander no -more for a time, at least, 
 through the white sand that does duty for 
 soil at Wells, but seek the Clarence at once, 
 (incongruous name for a Temperance hotel.) 
 Our good angels must have had a share in 
 that decision. We were offered bed-rooms 
 and a sitting-room for three shillings a day 
 each; and were furthermore told by our 
 hostess that she hoped we would make free 
 use of the tiny piano in the sitting-room, and 
 the books on the shelves opposite. We after- 
 ward found that the books contained much 
 valuable matter in the way of local history 
 and legend. 
 
 As soon as we had agreed with our hostess 
 on accommodations and terms she called in a 
 boy from the neighborhood to go with us 
 and bring back our luggage. Leaving Miss 
 Bradford and Princess to recuperate in their 
 respective rooms, Ned, Helen, and I return- 
 
2 4 o PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 ed to the station with the boy and his wheel- 
 barrow, a vehicle of a size altogether dispro- 
 portionate to that of the homunculus who fur- 
 nished its motive power. 
 
 Arrived at the station, we helped the lad to 
 pile the larger articles upon the wheelbarrow, 
 and ourselves gathered up hang-bags, shawl- 
 straps and umbrellas ; then the procession re- 
 formed. There are neither sidewalks nor 
 pavements in this part of the town. Ac- 
 cordingly, falling in behind the barrow and 
 the boy, we trudged once more over the 
 sandy way that led to the Clarence to rest, 
 hot water, and supper. 
 
 Such a supper as we had ! I have eaten 
 more elaborate meals; but never, outside a 
 camp in the Adirondack^, one that tasted so 
 good. I do not now recall the bill of fare ; 
 but have an impression that it consisted of 
 nectar and ambrosia, and ended with a 
 draught from the Fountain of Youth. 
 
 Here we abode for several days, and re- 
 freshed ourselves with wanderings along the 
 moat that surrounds the bishop's palace-yard. 
 This is a charming place of resort. One 
 
IN ENGLAND. 241 
 
 comes first to the clear green water on which 
 white-plumed swans are floating; and under 
 the shade of the limes, one may sit and dream 
 away many a pleasant hour. One may also 
 ramble along the banks of the moat, still 
 shadowed by the fragrant limes, past the gar- 
 den, and back near the wells — or springs — 
 that give the city its name, to the draw- 
 bridge. This one may cross, and, ringing 
 at the gate, find himself admitted by a per- 
 son in sober livery, who shows strangers 
 about the house, the lovely wild-looking gar- 
 den, and the courtyard. 
 
 In the garden was held the so-called trial 
 of Whiting, last abbot of Glastonbury, whom 
 Henry VII, on charge of treason, first dis- 
 possessed of the abbey and then hanged, 
 finishing his thorough work in these parts 
 by causing the oldest monastic buildings in 
 England to be destroyed in an unsuccessful 
 search for the treasures which the monks 
 were supposed to have hidden therein. 
 
 A part of the palace itself is a tower whose 
 predecessor was destroyed in 1703, by a 
 storm still referred to as "the great storm." 
 
 16 
 
242 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 It was this manifestation of nature's wrath of 
 which Addison made use in his much-dis- 
 cussed simile regarding the angel guiding 
 the whirlwind. 
 
 In the courtyard grows a gnarled, twisted 
 shrub, an offshoot from the Holy Thorn of 
 Glastonbury, which, we are assured, really 
 does blossom in December. It is like, yet 
 unlike, the English hawthorn, and is un- 
 doubtedly of foreign origin. The dwellers 
 hereabouts accounts for its second blooming 
 by the mildness of the winters and the shel- 
 tered position of the shrub. 
 
 The two churches, St. Cuthbert's and the 
 Cathedral, give character to the little city; 
 and in no other English cathedral have we 
 seen such elegance and richness in the vest- 
 ment of clergy and choir as at Wells. 
 
 The Cathedral itself one remembers chiefly 
 for the peculiar appearance of the inverted 
 black marble arches in the choir. There is 
 also a delightful bit of carving, a representa- 
 tion of Jonah and the whale, whether before 
 or after the man's three days' sojourn in the 
 monster is not recorded. They appear to 
 
IN ENGLAND. 243 
 
 be on the most friendly terms. The whale 
 is standing on its head, with its tail curled 
 engagingly over its back, while the refractory 
 prophet, who is considerably taller than 
 Leviathan is long, leans carelessly with his 
 elbow on the part of the creature that in 
 this work of art is most elevated. (Ignorance 
 of comparative anatomy causes me to refrain 
 from trying to name that part of the sea- 
 monster's body which serves as support for 
 the disappointed traveler.) The composition 
 of this work, including Jonah's attitude and 
 expression leads the beholder to suppose that 
 the gentleman knew he was having his pic- 
 ture taken. 
 
 The Cathedral close is rather dreary, ow- 
 ing to the almost entire absence of grass, 
 the soil here, as elswhere in the town, being 
 a fine white sand. The nature of the soil 
 confirms the statements of both tradition and 
 geology, by bearing witness to the fact that 
 this part of England was once covered by an 
 arm of the sea, leaving Glastonbury and its 
 vicinity an island; "the island-valley of 
 Avilion," 
 
244 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 Even yet one sees, loaded upon the trains 
 that come and go at the little stations, bar- 
 rels of apples, tubs of butter, and boxes of 
 cheese, stamped "Avalon." One look at the 
 magic word annihilates time and change, and 
 takes us back fourteen centuries to stand 
 upon the shore with bold Sir Bedivere, 
 watching the barge with Arthur and the 
 three queens fade into mist, while 
 
 "On the mere the wailing died away." 
 
 It is a pleasant drive over hill and dale 
 from Wells to Glastonbury. The old village 
 straggles in various directions from the 
 Market Square, near which we find our way 
 through a court and a high gate into the 
 abbey grounds. 
 
 The sloping meadows are rich and green, 
 and the sheep feed on the hillsides. Here 
 and there, parties of picnickers sit under the 
 trees eating prosaic lunches; and, rather 
 forlorn and lonely save for their kindly cov- 
 ering of ivy, we find the few remains of one 
 of the most interesting buildings in England. 
 Scarcely anywhere else has the destruction 
 
IN ENGLAND. 245 
 
 of a monastery been so complete. Far apart 
 as they were, both Furness and Glastonbury 
 were involved in the rising against Henry, 
 after the passage of the edict abolishing 
 monasteries; but though Furness aroused 
 the royal anger and suffered the royal ven- 
 geance, the work of destruction was not so 
 thorough because its treasures were more 
 easily found. 
 
 On a little slope behind the fallen chancel, 
 grows the Holy Thorn. The shrub was cut 
 down by some overzealous person when the 
 Abbey was destroyed; but, springing up 
 again from the roots, it still remains, with 
 wiry, twisted branches, and leaves few and 
 small, the patriarch of the domain. 
 
 Above the Abbey grounds, rises in the 
 near distance the rounded top of Glastonbury 
 Tor, whereon the Abbot Richard Whiting 
 was hanged; and whence one has a view for 
 miles around of this beautiful storied coun- 
 tryside, as fair and winsome as the legends 
 that cluster so thickly about it. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 We had thought of devoting a few days to 
 Wales on our way back to Liverpool ; but we 
 lingered about Wells and Glastonbury for 
 nearly a week, and awoke suddenly one 
 morning to the realization that in two days 
 our steamer would sail. Accordingly, there 
 was nothing left for us but to transfer our 
 belongings, by hand and wheelbarrow, from 
 the Clarence to the station, and take the train 
 for Bristol. As it had begun -to rain by the 
 time we reached the Queen City, we decided 
 to go directly on to Liverpool and rest there 
 for a day before sailing. 
 
 It is usually true that passengers home- 
 ward bound are far less lively and social 
 than when setting out upon a European tour. 
 They are, as a rule, tired and in a hurry to 
 be at home once more, and fewer entertain- 
 ments are planned. So it was on board the 
 Berneland. 
 
IN ENGLAND. 247 
 
 Miss Minerva, of course, took to her berth 
 from the start. Princess kept up her cour- 
 age for a day or two, and then retired, tem- 
 porarily, from active life. I read or slept on 
 deck in my steamer-chair, while Ned and 
 Helen sat near me chatting, took long con- 
 stitutionals, played shuffle-board, or teased 
 me about my inactivity. 
 
 They were very quiet, Ned did not joke 
 much, but seemed grave and earnest, some- 
 times almost troubled. Helen was, as Prin- 
 cess said, "beautifully cunning," and I watch- 
 ed her with interest and admiration. 
 
 The night before our landing, we three 
 were sitting on the deck in the moonlight, 
 when I suddenly realized that my two com- 
 panions had been silent for a long time. We 
 were the only persons on deck, as most of the 
 passengers were below arranging their bag- 
 gage for "inspection" the next day. 
 
 With some remark about "getting out of 
 the wind," I moved over toward the bow 
 and settled myself in some one's vacant deck 
 chair. With the obtuseness common to per- 
 sons in their state, both failed to notice that 
 
248 PRINCESS AND PILGRIM 
 
 there was a head wind that blew my veil 
 about and almost carried away my rugs. 
 
 I remained in this airy position until I was 
 chilled to the bone, and then started to go 
 below. 
 
 As I passed my two friends I heard Ned 
 say gently, 
 
 "So then, we shall come back next summer 
 and go over all this ground again, without 
 Aunt Minerva." 
 
 I went swiftly down to the state-room 
 which I shared with Princess and the instant 
 I entered that young woman cried out, wav- 
 ing the novel she had been reading, 
 
 "You needn't waste words in telling me. 
 I know all about it. Your face speaks for 
 you. ,, 
 
 Aunt Minerva visited Ned and Helen in 
 their Chicago home last winter, and Princess 
 and I were invited there also. The good 
 lady is learning by slow degrees that quite an 
 important part of our country lies west of 
 the Connecticut River. 
 
 THE END. 
 
THE WORLD 
 DESTROYER 
 
 BY "HORACE 'MANN" 
 
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 Whoever did write this book has no cause 
 to be ashamed Of it Beyond cavil it is 
 one of the best novels of the day. Strik- 
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 PILGRIM 
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