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FLYING VISITS 
 
FLYING VISITS 
 
 HARRY FURNISS 
 
 WITH ILL USTRA TIONS B Y THE A UTHOR 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 
 
 5 and 7 East Sixteenth Street 
 
 Chicago: 266 & 268 Wabash Ave. 
 

 Copyright, 1892, 
 
 BY 
 
 UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 
 
 [A IZ rights reserved] 
 
 turns. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 As these articles have appeared in Black and 
 White, it is needless for me to say that my 
 impressions are in no way colored ; and 
 although I travelled 7,000 miles in sixteen 
 weeks to give my entertainment " The 
 Humors of Parliament" all over the United 
 Kingdom, and am therefore qualified perhaps 
 to compile an elaborate work, such as 
 An Encyclopedic Gttidebook to the British 
 Isles, yet I did not seek for material, but 
 just dotted down impressions in my flight, 
 and as such I present them to my reader, 
 with the addition of extracts from letters to a 
 friend at home, to whom this book is hereby 
 dedicated. 
 
 HARRY FURNISS. 
 
 London, 1892. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Introduction, 
 
 Show Week in Dublin, 5 
 
 Across the Channel— " Davy"— His repartee to Dr. 
 Tanner— From Kingstown to Dublin— The Horse 
 Show— Biassed Critics— How Jupiter Jumped— And 
 how Programmes Jump. 
 
 "After the Horse Show's Over," . . . .21 
 Irish Celebrities— Dublin in Darkness— " Liberty ! "— 
 Typical incongruities— The permanent Lord Mayor 
 of Dublin— The fiery, untamed athlete— Football ex- 
 traordinary—Curious cricket— Enthusiastic Parnell- 
 ites — Between Scylla and Charybdis. 
 
 Round Belfast at High Pressure, .... 39 
 Jottings en route— The Legs of the Law— "When Con- 
 stabulary's duty's to be done "— Mr." MacMoneygle" 
 —Off!— An Electrical Rush— Round the Town— A 
 Mammoth Workshop— Nearly Cremated — We are 
 frozen, baked, galvanized, hammered, planed, tarred, 
 and varnished— " Fleshers "— ' 'Far from the Mad- 
 ding Crowd "—The Spirit of Belfast. 
 
 From Ledgers to Leeks, 5 6 
 
 Counterfeit Celebrities— The Decay of Summer— "All 
 that was left of them"— Miss Taffy's Teeth— Llan- 
 dudno— Masculine Young Ladies. 
 
Viil CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Southport-on-Sand, 72 
 
 The Sahara of Lancashire — An Artificial Seaside — 
 The Fair on the Sands — The Wreck of the ' ' William 
 Fisher " — A Gigantic Centipede — Dry Land Sailing 
 — A Family Photo — The New Theatre. 
 
 The Brighton of the North, 87 
 
 The Spa and its Manager — A Contrast — The Jockey 
 Postilions — A Sketch after Leech — Familiar Figures 
 on the Spa — The Wielder of the Baton — A Band of 
 Undertakers — The Visitors' Daily Programme. 
 
 Sanctity and Hams, 98 
 
 York — An Artistic Joke— J. L. Toole and the Native — 
 Up the River — A Clerical City — A Church-like Thea- 
 tre — York as a Commercial Centre. 
 
 Sheffield in Black and White, . . . .112 
 A Picture of Sheffield, Black— Another, White—" Aa 
 know that man, he cums fra' Sheffield " — Endcliff 
 Wood — Puzzle, find the Queen. 
 
 The Home of "Ye Pantiles," 120 
 
 The Discoverer of the Waters — The Elixir of Life — 
 Tunbridge Wells as it was — Movable Dwellings — A 
 Scene of Devastation — Ye Pantiles of the Past — The 
 Ancient Dispenser of Chalybeate — "Feyther's look- 
 in' ! " — A Second Edition of " The Jumping Frog." 
 
 The Show Garden of England, . . . .138 
 A Big Exhibition ; Side Shows extra — " Tolls, please ! " 
 — Playing at Trains — Coach Touts — The Side 
 Shows — Pretty Totland Bay — A Dangerous Foun- 
 dation — The Flowers in the Garden. 
 
CONTENTS. ix 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Eastbourne after the Season, . . . .153 
 Good-by to the Holiday Makers — Splash Point — How 
 the Visitor Spends the Day — His Friend, the Waiter 
 — The Daily Papers — The Pavilion — The Manager's 
 Enterprise — Ladies on the Links — The Curse of East- 
 bourne — A Fugitive. 
 
 Pines and Parsons, 166 
 
 Why not Bradlaughmouth ? — Retired Warriors — The 
 Bedroom Brigade — A more apropos Statue — 
 Church, Sermons, and Curates — The Sanctity of the 
 Winter Garden Destroyed — A Sumptuous Hotel — 
 The Valley of the Bourne — An Awe-inspiring Foun- 
 tain — The Invalids' Walk — Sir William. 
 
 Notes by the Way, and a Look in at Ripon, . 186 
 The Last Coach of the Season— The Old Style and the 
 New — The Black Country — A Modern Hades — Peace- 
 ful Ripon — I Explore the Wrong Hotel — The Wail 
 of the Nine o'Clock Horn — The Facetious Producer 
 thereof—" Old Boots"—'' Made in Germany "—Ger- 
 man v. English Waiters — The Mayor's Procession — 
 " We don't like London." 
 
 Mems. on the Mersey, 199 
 
 A Cosmopolitan Spot — Landing Stage Dramas— Playing 
 His First Part — A Busy Watery Highway — The Fer- 
 ries — Business and Pleasure — Mr. Simpson — A Polar 
 Picture — A Suggestion to Dramatists. 
 
 "The Granite City," 215 
 
 My First and Last Haggis — The Granite — Noises by 
 Day and Night — The Tintinnabulation of the Bells 
 — Festivities in connection therewith — My Banquet 
 — My Host— The Scotch Humorist— " Auld Lang 
 
x CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Syne," and the Effects it Produces— "Linked Arms, 
 Long Drawn Out." 
 
 My First Glimpse of "Modern Athens," . . 229 
 A Beautiful City — Statuary "de trop" — Sir Walter 
 Scott's Monument— Prince Albert's Statue — The 
 Castle — Billings' Barracks — The One o'Clock Gun 
 and its Effect — Dinnertime for Thomas McAtkins— 
 Young Edinburgh— I View the City under Unfavora- 
 ble Conditions. 
 
 The Queen of the South, 244 
 
 Three to One — Burns Mania — Window-pane Verses — 
 Burns Going to the Dogs — The Two Markets — A 
 Scotch Russian— An Ex-M.P.— Only a Face at the 
 Window— Old Mortality and His Pony— The Obser- 
 vatory Garden. 
 
 The Town of the " Twa Brigs," . . . .257 
 More of the Burns Epidemic— Relics of Tarn O'Shan- 
 ter and Souter Johnny— The Burns Country — " The 
 Auld Brig o' Doon "— The Esplanade— An " Ayr- 
 gun "—The Legend of the "Twa Brigs "—No Ro- 
 mance Nowadays. 
 
 Cottonopolis, 271 
 
 Old Mancunium — Smoke and Shekels — Musical Man- 
 chester — Oh ! those Lorries ! — A Typical Picture of 
 the City — More Statues — One that was left of them. 
 
 Travelling in Scotland, 282 
 
 A Stranger in a Strange Land — Over the Border — My 
 First Glimpse of the "Land o' Cakes" — And my 
 First of Switzerland — Draughty Carriages — Gretna 
 Green — Elopements up to Date — " Caledonia, Stern 
 and Wild "—Giants' Golf Links—" Caller Herrin' ! " 
 

 Holyliead. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 We are off at last on tour with " The Hu- 
 mors of Parliament." Leaving Euston by the Irish 
 Mail, I was rather disappointed to find that Mr. 
 Gladstone, Sir William Harcourt, Sir Richard Tem- 
 ple, and Mr. Joseph Chamberlain had only sent repre- 
 sentatives to see me off, as I had a neat little speech 
 ready tvith which to address them, a la Gladstone, 
 from the carriage window. . . . It rather amused 
 me to read in the papers that " Harry Furniss has 
 packed his portmanteau and is off on tour." Port- 
 manteau indeed ! You might as well say that Irv- 
 ing was taking his costume basket with him, Miss 
 Terry her handbag, or George Grossmith a musical 
 box. I believe that Mr. Irving takes a tram with 
 sixteen carriages, and of course George Grossmith' s 
 
2 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 piano is a necessity. I only wish that I could have 
 got the fifth part of my luggage into the space of an 
 ordinary luggage van. fust look ! You can judge 
 for yourself. The boxes on the left contain my elabo- 
 rate paraphernalia, a complete fit-up and a triple re- 
 flex combination self-acting double-riveted 400 horse- 
 
 power lantern, a patent collapsing up-to-data air-tight 
 and rain-proof studio, and a new elastic-sided electro- 
 plated writing-case, jewelled in four places ; indeed, 
 so elaborate were my belongings that the station-mas- 
 ter, who was of an inquisitive turn of mind, and 
 who happened to know that I was going on tour with 
 my show, thought that I had got most of the Mem- 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 bers hid away among my baggage, and that I was go- 
 ing to exhibit them after the fashion of a menagerie, 
 . . . Mac, my secretary, travels with me, and I 
 
 am accompanied as well by Professor C , facile 
 
 princeps in the art of manipulating the lantern ; and 
 apart from this he is a veritable Mark Tapley. 
 From his aspect you might take him for a High 
 Church parson, but there is a quiet gleam in his eye 
 which betokens the innate sense of humor he possesses. 
 He has travelled a good deal, — been all through 
 A merica, and has " done " our 
 own provinces time after time, 
 and many are the tales he has 
 to tell of his adventures ; but we 
 thought it somewhat curious that 
 in telling us when any particu- 
 lar incident occurred^ he used as sl 
 his landmarks of time, not dates, 
 but accidents or murders which 
 had occurred in or about the 
 town he was speaking of at the 
 time. . . . I must confess that I am a little ner- 
 vous about this my debut in the provinces as an inde- 
 pendent entertainer. As you know, I have lectured a 
 good deal in the country ; but then a lecturer's audi- 
 ence is always assured beforehand, as he is engaged by 
 
4 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 some Society or Institute : but now that I have given 
 up trying to make people wise, and endeavor instead 
 to make them merry — in other words, now that I have 
 abandoned lecturing in favor of entertaining, — it is a 
 different matter, as I appeal direct to the public ; and 
 I am told that a London success, however great, counts 
 for very little in the country, . . . Best wishes. 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
SHOW WEEK IN DUBLIN. 
 
 Across the Channel— " Davy"— His repartee to Dr. Tanner — 
 From Kingstown to Dublin — The Horse Show — Biassed 
 Critics — How Jupiter Jumped — And how Programmes 
 Jump. 
 
 EAR dirty Dublin" was 
 never so dear or never 
 so dirty as when I visited 
 it during the Horse Show, or rather Horse 
 Fair, week. Standing- on the deck of the Royal 
 Mail steamer Ulster, listening to the paddles 
 churning up the waves with their ponderous 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 blades, their regular beat seems to be repeat « 
 ing to you with a monotonous, rhythmical 
 swing: " Cead mille failthe ! Cead mille 
 failthe ! Cead mille failthe ! " and you picture 
 to yourself the 
 artistic figure 
 of Erin looking 
 over lovely Dub- 
 lin Bay, waiting 
 to welcome 
 you. In reality, 
 the eye that 
 awaits .you is 
 one of keen busi- 
 ness ; and the 
 first specimen of 
 this is the hu- 
 morous twinkle, 
 albeit with mer- 
 cenary intent, 
 of an extraor- 
 dinary individ- 
 ual with long, 
 matted hair, 
 
 and overcoat of gigantic dimensions held 
 "iligantly" up on one side, encircling numer- 
 ous bundles of the literature of the country. 
 
SHOW WEEK IN DUBLIN. 7 
 
 This is " Davy." The first thing he hands you 
 as you step off the steamer at Kingstown is a 
 little advertisement of himself in book form, 
 in which I read the following stanza : — 
 
 Davy hath a beaming eye ; 
 
 On all his customers it beameth ; 
 Everyone who passes by 
 
 Thinks that for himself it gleameth ; 
 But there's an eye that's brighter far, 
 
 And shines behind this jovial quizness, 
 Leading like a guiding star, 
 
 And that is Davy's eye for business. 
 
 It is certainly a most roguish eye, and I was 
 rather astonished when he came up and ad- 
 dressed me by name. 
 
 " Shure and Oi knew yez at wants from yer 
 porthraits in the paypurs, and Oi'm glad to 
 wilcome yez to ould Oireland. Maybe we 
 may meet in London some day, whin Oi dhress 
 in the hoight of fashion, wid me frackcoat, and 
 toi, and cane. Oi always go over for the 
 Darby, and have a pape at the House of 
 Commons. Now ye'll be after drawin' me 
 porthrait, won't yez, Misther Furrniss ? Ye'll 
 not forget Davy ? " 
 
 There is no doubt that Davy has a con- 
 siderable fund of native Irish wit, which I have 
 noticed is fast disappearing from his country- 
 
8 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 men, crushed out by the latter-day rancorous 
 party feeling and political wrangling. Perhaps 
 the best repartee of Davy's is one related by 
 himself, concerning Dr. Tanner. 
 
 "How's yourself, Doctor?" said Davy one 
 evening, as the M.P. stepped ashore. 
 
 "Very well; and how are you, Davy? I 
 see you haven't had your hair cut lately ? " 
 
 "No," said Davy; "but Mr. Balfour will 
 soon cut yours for you ! " 
 
 If first impressions are everything, I wonder 
 what impression a Saxon would get of Ireland 
 by being received by this uncouth and un- 
 kempt individual ! 
 
 It is particularly interesting to me to re- 
 visit Dublin, and I may be pardoned if I am 
 personal for a moment, and settle a question 
 once for all of national importance ; viz., 
 whether the writer of these lines is an Irish- 
 man or not. My father was English, my 
 mother is Scotch, and I was born in Ireland; 
 and lived in the country until late in my teens, 
 when I went to England. 
 
 As a schoolboy in Dublin, of a volatile 
 nature, and with a Robinson Crusonian dis- 
 position for exploring, I knew Dublin and its 
 surroundings very well ; and I must say that 
 
SHOW WEEK IN DUBLIN. 
 
 after nearly twenty years' absence I found the 
 "ould country" much as I left it, and this 
 was made evident to me on our journey from 
 Kingstown to Dublin, where I seemed to 
 recognize the same old bottles on the beach 
 that I pelted with stones in the days of my 
 youth, the same old cockle-women I used to 
 patronize, and the same old human relics of 
 the past that used to patronize me. Indeed, 
 John Leech's sketch of Westland Row Sta- 
 tion, where jarveys called the Saxon tourist 
 " Captain," " Major," or " Gineral," accord- 
 ing to the amount of luggage he possessed, 
 would be a fair illustration of the station of 
 to-day. 
 
io Plying visits. 
 
 I was disappointed on the journey up to 
 miss a well-known porter who was for many 
 years stationed at Blackrock. He was after- 
 ward moved to Salt Hill, but was in the 
 habit of going along the train, calling out, 
 " Blackrock - Salt - Hill - oi - mane ! Blackrock - 
 Salt-Hill-oi-mane !" I wonder was he there 
 in Leech's day ? But there was no mistaking 
 the " Here y' are, Captain ; this is the kyar 
 for yez ! " " Git along wid yez, shure the 
 Major's coming to me ! " " What are ye 
 blatherin' about, isn't it the Gineral himself 
 that's after knowin' Patsey O'Hooligan has 
 the natest little kyar in Dublin ? " and so on, 
 until we and our luggage are rescued by an 
 energetic porter. 
 
 It is a curious fact that in Ireland they 
 have a propensity supposed to be peculiar 
 to the American race ; viz., "booming." We 
 met an Irish "boomer" coming up in the 
 train. 
 
 " Shure ye'd be afther coming over to the 
 Harse Show, of coorse, and it's the foinest 
 show in the wur-rld intoirely. We've three 
 things in this counthry that can't be bate in 
 the woide, woide wur-rld — the foinest harse 
 show, the foinest brewery, and, in the North, 
 
SHOIV WEEK IN DUBLIN. II 
 
 we're turnin' out the foinest ships, altho 7 I 
 don't moind tellin' yez the shipbuilders ain't 
 Oirish at all, at all, and the Harse Show is 
 moore loike an English fair." 
 
 And, indeed, we're told from morning to 
 night that everything in the " ould counthry " 
 is the " foinest intoirely." 
 
 Certainly the policemen are the " foinest," 
 but the English traveller must smile when he 
 is told there are not finer drivers than the 
 Irish jarveys — oh, shade of Selby ! — that the 
 Dublin shops are not to be " bate anywhere " 
 — poor Shoolbred and Maple ! — that Irish- 
 women are the " purtiest " in the world — what 
 does Jersey say ? But this is digression ; I 
 must leave general matters to my next chap- 
 ter, and in this confine myself to the Horse 
 Show — the great annual carnival of Dublin. 
 
 In days gone by the Horse Show was held 
 in Kildare Street, and was a quiet, modest 
 annual function ; now it has grown to be the 
 " foinest" and most famous Horse Show in 
 the world, and is held at Balls Bridge, on the 
 banks of the river Dodder, a stream flowing 
 — no, not exactly flowing, but struggling — 
 through stones, old worn-out kettles, bottom- 
 less saucepans, and other cast-off domestic 
 
12 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 utensils, to say nothing of defunct domestic 
 pets. I can well recall this secluded spot in 
 days gone by, when it was frequented only by 
 fishers of kettles and other articles concealed 
 among this extensive heterogeneous collection, 
 but now all the world and his wife patronize 
 this district in the famous week, and multi- 
 tudes of bipeds and quadrupeds mingling 
 together fill the vast enclosures at Balls 
 Bridge. Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur 
 in Mis ! But I will leave these reminiscences 
 to the descriptive writer and moralist, and mix 
 with the crowd, sketch-book in hand. 
 
 It is strange that, even at a Horse Show, 
 one cannot get away from politics in Ireland, 
 as the following conversation, which took 
 place at the show this year, will demonstrate. 
 There was a horse in the jumping competition 
 named Balfour, and two ardent Nationalists 
 were looking on as the horse cantered up to 
 take the big stone-wall jump. 
 
 "Arrah, Moike, this horse is called Balfour, 
 bedad ! " 
 
 " Shure, he'll be no good ; there's divil a 
 bit of jumping power in him at all, at all ! " 
 
 Balfour went for the difficulty, and dis- 
 placed a few small stones on top. 
 
SHOW WEEK IN DUBLIN. 
 
 13 
 
 " And wasn't Oi afther tellin' yez so ? 
 he wint at it loike his own battherine 
 
 ram. 
 
 It so happened that very few horses in the 
 competition succeeded in doing so well as 
 
 Balfour, and the horse was trotted out with 
 two or three others to try conclusions a sec- 
 ond time, much to the disgust of my two 
 neighboring onlookers. 
 
 " Och, shure they'd throt him out agin ef 
 he wasn't to lave a shtone shtandin'. Just 
 watch him now, Moike." 
 
14 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 The horse tucked up his legs and cleared 
 the wall splendidly. 
 
 "Look at that now, why he's too ' cliver 
 fur us intoirely ! ' " 
 
 And yet they say, when I, in my 
 Humors of Parliament, introduce a question 
 about a scarecrow, which an Irish member 
 
 suggests was mistaken purposely by the 
 police for a native, of the Emerald Isle, 
 and shot accordingly, I am grossly exaggera- 
 ting. 
 
 The first horse to jump on the second day 
 was one entitled Jupiter, and belonged to a 
 friend of mine. Whether he was purposely 
 considerate of his fellow gee-gees, I don't 
 
SHOW WEEK IN DUBLIN. 
 
 15 
 
 know ; but he went for that wall with an evi- 
 dent intention not to jump it, but to knock it 
 
 down, which he in a great measure succeeded 
 in doing, and it was interesting to note that 
 this soft place where Jupiter jumped was 
 
\6 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 selected for all the other horses 
 to try their prowess at. 
 
 Every horse's performance 
 was loudly greeted by an en- 
 thusiastic and fashionable crowd, 
 who were promenading round 
 the enclosure ankle - deep in 
 mud. Some had taken up their 
 positions on a seat by the wall, 
 veritable wall- 
 as 
 
 flowers, 
 shown by my 
 sketch. The 
 horsey, the 
 clerical, the so- 
 ciety, the juve- 
 nile, and the 
 commercial element were all 
 represented, and in this case 
 placed on an equal footing 
 for once. 
 
 The Master of the Cere- 
 monies, Lord Rathdonnell, 
 was conspicuous by his 
 energy in waving two flags, 
 red and white, in the middle 
 of the arena. In strong con- 
 
SHOW WEEK IN DUBLIN. 
 
 17 
 
 trast was another Lord R , the inheritor of 
 
 a famous telescope, who looked anything but a 
 sportsman ; and the familiar figure of a retired 
 military officer was very much en evidence in 
 
 the ring. Some of the 
 other ring - masters 
 I shall give in my 
 next chapter. I am 
 disturbed in sketch- 
 ing them by a boy 
 
 calling out, lt Jumping pro- 
 grammes ! Jumping pro- 
 grammes ! " I asked him how a programme 
 jumps. That boy is still considering his reply, 
 and yet they say the Irish are sharp at repartee! 
 
Dublin. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 Oh, these Irish hotels ! It is no wonder the 
 English traveller keeps azuay from this country, pre- 
 ferring to spend his money elsewhere, zvJiere he ca?i be 
 sure of cleanliness and something lie can eat. You 
 
 knozu Mr. A , the ardent Gladstonian, zvho came 
 
 over here with his zvife and family, instead of going 
 on the Continent ? No doubt it was the best thing he 
 could do to show his interest in the country. He went 
 to the principal hotel and sat down to dinner the night 
 they arrived; but the soup was untouchable, the fish 
 might have been fresh a month or so before he arrived, 
 and the game — well, it zvas about as high as the hotel 
 bill, and that's saying something. So, being wise in 
 his generation, he simply took the first boat back to 
 
 England. I believe Mr. A is a Unionist now. 
 
 . . . The city is crammed, so we are at the mercy 
 
FLYING VISITS. 19 
 
 of the hotel vampire, who is busily sucking the gold 
 out of the unfortunate visitors' pockets. It is ivell we 
 booked r oo jus beforehand. I had a gorgeous bedroom 
 
 allotted to me, but notwithstanding my surroundings, 
 the first night I turned in the arms of Morpheus posi- 
 tively declined to enfold me. This I put down to the 
 change of climate ; but on the second night I felt as 
 if I 'were in a Turkish bath, and the night after I 
 imagined I was being baked in an extra hot oven. 
 My temperature zvas at fever-heat ; but in answer to 
 all my inquiries they assured me that the kitchen 
 fires were on the other side of the hotel. However, a 
 friend of mine, also a visitor, who happened to be on 
 the Health Committee, and who knew something about 
 practical sanitation, was horrified to find me in such 
 a vapor bath, and quickly rescued me, just as I was 
 on the point of being cooked alive. It was then ac- 
 
20 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 knowledged that my bedroom was right over the hotel 
 fires. Upon this I was relegated to another room, 
 where sleep was equally impossible, owing to the noise 
 of the stone pavements, the tramways, and the rat- 
 tling of the draughty windows. After that I was 
 removed to some box under the stairs (I will not dig- 
 nify it by the name of bedroom), and eventually, out 
 of compassion for me, my friend vacated Ids room — 
 the only habitable one in the place, I believe — in my 
 favor. . . . As you can guess, I have not very 
 much time for festive gatherings, but I was fortunate 
 enough to renew acquaintance with a charming lady 
 whom I had met during the London season, who has 
 been very kind to us here, and with whom we spent a 
 most enjoyable evening at her quaint and picturesque 
 country house, at Dalkey. On Sunday I had the 
 pleasure of dining with an old acquaintance, in the 
 
 person of Dr. H , at whose hospitable house L met 
 
 the genial editor of the " Lrish Times''' and other de- 
 lightful representative people. 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
"AFTER THE HORSE SHOW'S 
 OVER." 
 
 Irish Celebrities — Dublin in Darkness— " Liberty ! " — Typical 
 incongruities — The permanent Lord Mayor of Dublin— 
 The fiery, untamed athlete — Football extraordinary- 
 Curious cricket — Enthusiastic Parnellites — Between 
 Scylla and Charybdis. 
 
 Horse Show week over, Dublin 
 quickly emptied. 
 The Presi- 
 dent of the 
 Show, Sir 
 Thomas But- 
 ler, whom I 
 sketch here, 
 umbrella in 
 hand, is to be congratulated on the success 
 of the Show this year. I find that on the 
 same page of my notebook is a slight sketch 
 of the two leading; Hants of Ireland. One 
 looks like a well-to-do farmer, always jolly and 
 rubicund; the other seems to bear a strong 
 resemblance to the " sporting gent " in a 
 modern drama. They are hurried notes, and 
 
22 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 I publish them just 
 as they were made 
 on the spot. 
 
 It would be well 
 for Dublin if its brill- 
 iancy were not con- 
 fined to one week in 
 the year, and the 
 other fifty-one left in 
 darkness ; for after 
 dusk the streets of 
 
 the city are disgrace- 
 fully lighted, and what 
 Dublin wants is a 
 scavenger, an elec- 
 trical engineer, and a 
 wood pavior. You can't 
 see the names of the 
 streets, and to read an 
 
AFTER THE HORSE SHOW'S OVER. 
 
 23 
 
 address you have to go in search of a lamp- 
 post, and climb halfway up to get any light 
 from the scanty illuminations of the city, and 
 you run the risk in doing so of tumbling down 
 upon the good-natured priest who is standing 
 
 underneath, endeavoring to decipher the 
 columns of the National Press by the light of 
 the " gas-lamp dimly burning." 
 
 The Irish are always crying out for Liberty, 
 but the Hibernian who said, " We don't know 
 exactly what we want, but we mean to have 
 it," might well be informed the Liberty they 
 most require is the well-known firm of that 
 
24 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 name hailing from Recent Street. It is strange 
 that the native city of that great advocate of 
 aestheticism, Oscar Wilde, should turn a deaf 
 ear to the teachings of 
 the Postlethwaitian school. 
 The Irish, to judge from 
 their houses, are quite 
 devoid of all artistic 
 taste, and it makes one 
 shudder to see the vile 
 decorations and furniture 
 of the worst period of 
 taste in the Victorian era 
 still untouched in Ireland. 
 In England the £$o sub- 
 urban villa of the hard- 
 worked City clerk would 
 put to shame the arrange- 
 ments in the houses of 
 the elite of Ireland ; in 
 fact the chief character- 
 istic of the Irish I may 
 venture to say is a want 
 of thoroughness. They are never thorough in 
 anything they do, individually or collectively, 
 and this is why they must always play second 
 fiddle to the sister isle in the British orchestra. 
 
"AFTER THE HORSE SHOW'S OVER." 2$ 
 
 For example, you go into one of the 
 principal restaurants in Dublin : everything 
 possible is done to pander to the taste of the 
 lover of display and splendor. The pillars 
 are enveloped in plush and lavishly gilt, 
 flowering plants of various descriptions are 
 placed on every window-ledge, huge tropical 
 ferns, standing in beautifully-finished tubs of 
 polished wood, resplendent with fittings of 
 brightly burnished brass, form a perfect 
 canopy above with their wide - spreading 
 leaves. Everything, in fact, is on a scale 
 magnificent enough to vie with any other 
 establishment of the kind elsewhere ; but the 
 plush round the pillars shows a gaping seam 
 from top to bottom, the plants in the windows 
 are placed in old biscuit boxes wrapped round 
 with paper, while the gorgeous tubs containing 
 the ferns are placed upon empty rough deal 
 wine cases. 
 
 In the Mansion House the best of banquets 
 is provided by the best of Lord Mayors : 
 everything is carried out to the minutest 
 details, and the Saxon guest might almost 
 imagine he was in the Guildhall ; but the 
 gorgeous flunkeys, with all their brilliant 
 finery, have not taken the trouble to button 
 
26 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 the knees of their plush breeches, and their 
 stockings hang* in wrinkles over their ankles, 
 in contrast to Mr. White, their chief, who is 
 known as the permanent Lord Mayor of 
 
 Dublin. The ban- 
 quet is gastro- 
 nomically perfect, 
 but you find a loaf 
 of Irish bread is 
 put by the side of 
 your plate instead 
 of the neat and 
 more appetizing 
 French roll. A 
 well-built carriage, 
 turned out in style, 
 and horsed to per- 
 fection, will be 
 awaiting you, but 
 the coachman will 
 have a hat green 
 with age, and his 
 boots will be more 
 suited for the 
 stable-yard. If by some odd chance the Jehu 
 is in keeping with the equipage, probably the 
 handle of the carriage- door has at some time 
 
AFTER THE HORSE SHOW'S OVER: 
 
 2^ 
 
 or other been broken off, and is now tied up 
 with a bit of string. But perhaps the artistic 
 eye should not be too severe in its criticisms 
 of a nation whose country, above all others, 
 stands as the typical land of hospitality. 
 
 Quite recently Dublin has been receiving 
 the Institute of Journalists and the Chamber 
 of Commerce ; but should they ever invite the 
 Sunday Obser- 
 vance Society to 
 Ireland, I wonder 
 what they (the 
 S.O.S.) would 
 say if they 
 chanced to stroll 
 through Phcenix 
 Park on a Sun- 
 day morning, the 
 time usually 
 selected by the 
 fiery, untamed 
 athlete of " Ould 
 O ire land" to 
 work off his su- 
 perfluous energy. 
 On entering the gates you are not solicited 
 by poke-bonneted lasses to invest in the 
 
28 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 War Cry or a varied selection of tracts, 
 but extraordinary wooden instruments, which 
 I thought were boomerangs on an enlarged 
 scale, are offered on the hire system. And if 
 you go a little further the whole Park seems 
 
 
 
 alive with holiday makers, more or less clad, 
 and the air is rent with wild, ear-piercing yells 
 peculiar to the sons of Erin ; in strong con- 
 trast to the comparative quiet of Hyde Park 
 or Hampstead Heath on a Sabbath morning, 
 Phoenix Park is a perfect Pandemonium. 
 
 The aforesaid truculent-looking clubs turn 
 out to be Irish hockey sticks, wielded by men 
 
"AFTER THE HORSE SHOW'S OVER. 1 ' 29 
 
 and boys clad for the most part in tatter- 
 demalion attire. Whack ! whack ! whack ! 
 they drive the ball all over the field, these 
 immense clubs whizzino- round their heads 
 like the national shillelah, and it is an ex- 
 traordinary thing that among all this banging 
 and club swinging the majority of the partici- 
 pants preferred to play in bare feet. As my 
 hat was in jeopardy, I moved on, and came 
 across a crowd of footballers, or, more properly 
 speaking, several crowds, for there seemed to 
 be teams spread all over the magnificent 
 Dublin football ground, and each side con- 
 sisted of close on a hundred members. My 
 travelling companion, who is a football enthu- 
 siast himself, nearly fainted at the incongruous 
 mixture of attire of the different players 
 engaged in this desperate melee, and spent a 
 long time looking on in the vain endeavor to 
 fathom the mystic rules which governed this 
 truly extraordinary game. Cricket at another 
 point was carried on in the same original way. 
 The batting-side gamble at cards by the side 
 of the scorers till their turn comes to go in, 
 and then the fielders have to wait while 
 " Tirence " plays his hand out before he takes 
 up his bat. The more juvenile athletes I 
 
30 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 show in my sketch were also of the fiery un- 
 tamed persuasion, and their costume and 
 antics defy description. 
 
 The following Sunday I avoided the Park, 
 
 not because I was uninterested in the Sunday 
 recreations of this human " ollapodrida, ,, but 
 because I heard that there was a political 
 meeting in the Park, and I had had more 
 than enough of such gatherings, so I remained 
 in my hotel. Just when I was dressing for 
 dinner, the more or less musical strains of 
 approaching bands smote upon my ear, and 
 soon music, shouting, and cheering seemed to 
 surround the hotel. I went down, and there 
 saw, standing in a brake and haranguing a 
 
11 AFTER THE HORSE SHOW'S OVER. 
 
 31 
 
 surging mass of people, the familiar figure of 
 Charles Stewart Parnell. He descended from 
 the wagon at the close of his oration, and 
 literally fought his way into the hotel, while 
 his admirers, who had invaded the hall, clung 
 to his coat-tails till they were summarily 
 ejected by the hotel servants, I am thankful 
 
 to say this is all I saw of political life in 
 Ireland. 
 
 My travelling companion had a peculiar 
 little experience in Dublin, which gives an in- 
 sight into the absurd state of political feeling 
 
32 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 in that city. While walking with two Dublin 
 acquaintances over the bridge leading into the 
 principal street, he made some casual remark 
 about Sackville Street not having altered much 
 of late years, whereupon the friend on his right 
 turned upon him with : 
 
 " Shure, if it's Sackville Sthrate ye're after 
 callin' it, it's dropping yer into the Liffey Oi'll 
 be ! It's O'Conneti Sthrate ! " 
 
 Well, as differences of opinion with an ex- 
 cited son of Erin are apt to be detrimental to 
 the symmetry of one's features, and as the 
 name was a matter of total indifference to my 
 companion, he acquiesced, saying : 
 
 " All right, O'Connell Street it is then ! " 
 
 When the friend on his left jumped round, 
 shillelah on high, and roared : 
 
 " Call it O'Connell Sthrate in moi prisince, 
 bedad, and Oi'll hold yer head under the furst 
 thram-car that comes along ! " 
 
 My perplexed companion, in this awkward 
 dilemma, might not inaptly be termed an Eng- 
 lish rose between two Irish blackthorns ! 
 
Dublin. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 Thanks for the press cuttings you sent me^ 
 containing the screeching criticisms of the Irish press 
 upon my articles in " Black and White" Of course I 
 shall take no notice of them : I have only pity for their 
 utter want of common sense. It is a very curious fact 
 that the French and the Irish, who are par excellence 
 the jesters of Europe, frequently making themselves 
 the butt of their own jokes, cannot stand the slightest 
 chaff or fair criticism. I suppose it is their having 
 this trait in common that makes Pat and Alphonse 
 such friends. As long as you flatter an Irishman, so 
 long will he bless you ; but be frank with him, and he 
 curses you. I think this zvas very neatly summed up 
 
FLYING VISITS. 35 
 
 by a drawing of Charles Keenes which appeared in 
 " Punch" of an old Irishwoman soliciting alms from 
 a local doctor. 
 
 " Wont ye give me a copper ; docther dear ? TJiry, 
 now, if ye haven t wan penny convanient ! and may 
 the blissid saints incrase ye ! " 
 
 " Stand aside, my good woman. I've nothing for 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, thin, the Lard presarve yer eyesight, for the 
 divil a nose ye have to mount the ' specs ' upon ! " 
 
 But it is a good thing that this only applies to the 
 majority of the Irish in their own country. No one 
 laughs more at the idiosyncrasies of his stop-at-home 
 countryman than does the Irishman you meet in Eng- 
 land and elsewhere ; and I am proud to say that I 
 number among my friends a great many Irish people 
 indeed. Some of them I have met here have laughed 
 heartily over the criticisms you sent me. . . . It 
 is rather flattering to find the long and highly eulo- 
 gistic criticisms of my performance follozued by big 
 houses, and certainly no actor has been more honored 
 both by audiences and press notices ; but then mem- 
 bers of the profession shozv their cleverness in giving 
 effect to the lines of others, and their duties are re- 
 stricted to the boards. Should an actor be his own 
 author, manager, and scene-painter, and at the same 
 
3& FLYING VISITS. 
 
 time fill up his spare moments by practising in another 
 profession, journalism to wit, and should he chance to 
 be a man out of the common who treats things lie sees 
 in anything but the stodgy orthodox twaddle of the 
 globe-trotter, he would never visit an Irish town the 
 second time. The people pay their money to hear me 
 as a satirist on the platform, and they expect me to 
 wash off the critical and satirical side of my nature 
 as soon as I leave the boards after amusing them, just 
 as an actor washes off his paint and removes his 
 make-up : to use their own words, " in that style which 
 is peculiarly his ozvn, the style which makes anyone 
 who looks at one of his cartoons in ' Punch' feel that 
 they know 6 Harry Furniss, 1 he at once set the audi- 
 ence at their case, making them feel in a much more 
 increased degree that they too knew the eminent cari- 
 caturist as intimately as if they had been for years 
 Jus close companion. This is the charm of Mr. Fur- 
 niss^s manner." " The whole aim of his work is 
 friendly satire" and so on, and so on : and yet when 
 I amuse my English readers with equally friendly 
 satire on the subject of Ireland, the old woman 
 representing the Press turns round, just as the 
 old beggar woman did to the doctor, and anathema- 
 tizes me; in the first place claiming me as an Irish- 
 man (a compliment I doiit deserve), and then express- 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 37 
 
 ing herself as exceedingly and sincerely sorry that 
 Mr. Furnisss rotund little body wasn't well kicked 
 while he was here." . . . 
 It is not my intention to 
 worry yon with a long 
 letter, nor have I time to 
 waste upon such stuff and 
 nonsense ; but were I in- 
 clined to take matters 
 seriously, I might reply 
 in the same vein as 
 Shelley did when he zvas 
 attacked : " When we 
 consider who makes this 
 
 accusation, and against whom, I need only rebut such 
 afi accusation by silence and a smile." But, after all, 
 isn't it sad that such balderdash should be printed f 
 I can tell you it highly amused me to see my portrait 
 as painted by the penny-a-liner. Some people said I 
 wouldn't succeed in London because I didn't come with 
 the orthodox halfcroivu in my pocket, but with a sub- 
 stantial banking account. However, I at once got into 
 harness with more work than I could do, or rather 
 draiu ; and I have been pulling right up to the collar ever 
 since. So much for the facts of the penny- a- il lie "-ner ! 
 
38 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 The Professor has just heard a very good sample of 
 an Irishism. His cabman, who met him by the early 
 tram, remarked to him that " It's a foine thing to git 
 up befoore ye go out in the morniri ! " Of course every- 
 one in Dublin during this week must in duty bound go 
 to the Horse Show, so one day I gave the Professor a 
 ticket. In the evening I asked him what he thought 
 of the magnificent show. He Jiesitated, coughed a lit- 
 tle, and then to my astonishment said that he hadn't 
 been there. "Ah, well, Horse Shows are not much in 
 my line ; but I spent a very pleasant afternoon in 
 Glasnevin Cemetery ! " He also subsequently informed 
 us that he had paid a visit to the spot where Burke a?id 
 Cavendish zvere murdered. We are beginning to think 
 the Professor is of a very morbid turn of mind. . . . 
 
 Yours* etc.* 
 
ROUND 
 
 BELFAST AT 
 PRESSURE. 
 
 HIGH 
 
 Jottings en route— The Legs of the Law— " When Constabu- 
 lary's duty's to be clone "-Mr." MacMoneygle"— Off!— An 
 Electrical Rush— Round the Town— A Mammoth Work- 
 shop—Nearly Cremated— We are frozen, baked, galvan- 
 ized, hammered, planed, tarred, and varnished— " Flesh- 
 ers "— ' ' Far from the Madding Crowd "—The Spirit of 
 Belfast. 
 
 T is curious that a hundred 
 miles should make such a 
 difference in the character of 
 a people as exists between the 
 inhabitants of Dublin and those 
 of Belfast. You notice the 
 change as you travel from frivo- 
 lous Dublin to money-making 
 Belfast in the train, by means 
 of the stranger who gets in for 
 short journeys. For most of the 
 distance you have the companion- 
 ship of clericals of a party that 
 now rules Irish opinion, but as 
 you approach Belfast their places are taken 
 by representatives of the Dissenters and 
 Episcopalians. 
 
40 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 The character of the people you see on the 
 railway platforms undergoes a change ; in the 
 South we have the open-mouthed caricature of 
 
 the Hibernian 
 and an " ould 
 lady " of the 
 same class; an 
 arm of the law 
 (legs of the 
 law, the R. I. 
 C. miorht well 
 
 o 
 
 be called, 
 judging from 
 the length of 
 their nether 
 limbs) stands 
 at attention. 
 Toward the 
 North the peo- 
 ple look keen- 
 er and more 
 well-to-do, and 
 when " constabulary's duty's to be done" it 
 is done in a more agreeable fashion than in the 
 South, judging from this pretty little tete-a-tcic, 
 which I sketched at a station as the train 
 stopped. Belfast is neither Irish flesh, Eng- 
 
ROUND BELFAST AT HIGH PRESSURE. 41 
 
 lish fowl, nor good Scotch herring. It is a 
 conglomeration of various trades and national- 
 ities, a hotch-potch thick and strong. 
 
 The cheery " Grand Juryman " welcomed 
 us to his pala- 
 
 tial hotel, and 
 I spent most 
 of my week in 
 this comforta- 
 ble hostelry, 
 as Jupiter Plu- 
 vius, Boreas 
 and Co. were 
 masters of the 
 situation, and 
 reigned su- 
 preme out of 
 doors. How- 
 ever, I man- 
 aged to see a 
 good deal of 
 the Belfast 
 people, and 
 quite 
 
 enough 
 
 of the city. I ought to say enough of the shop and 
 the shopkeepers, for Belfast is but a vast empo- 
 rium of commerce, and its inhabitants live, move, 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 and have their being in the sole company of their 
 ledgers and tapes. They all worship at the shrine 
 of one firm, Messrs. Money, Grubber and Co. 
 
 Mr. " MacMoneygle " is the true type of the 
 guide, philosopher, and friend, and the moment 
 I arrived, rushed into my hotel, generously 
 throwing himself at my disposal, and offering 
 to pilot me through the mazy intricacies of Bel- 
 fast ; so, as I had only one afternoon to spare, 
 true to the instincts of the Saxon tourist, I ar- 
 ranged for him to show me as much as he could 
 of the town in that short space of time. 
 
 On the afternoon in question, a neat " janting 
 kyar" is ready at the door to the minute ; and be- 
 
ROUND BELFAST AT HIGH PRESSURE. 43 
 
 fore mounting this vehicle in the well-known Irish 
 sideways fashion, the worthy MacM. rushes me 
 to an adjacent jeweller's, and my eyes glitter at 
 the sight of a gorgeous clock in the window, 
 bearing-an inscription to the effect that it was a 
 present to the aforesaid MacM. on his wedding- 
 day. "Only married last week/' explains that 
 individual. I congratulate him, as he shoves me 
 up on to the car, and off we go, only to pull up 
 the next minute opposite a splendid club-house. 
 I am dragged off the car, rushed up the 
 stairs, shown the dining-room, reading-room, 
 smoking-room, card-room, and billiard-room 
 without taking breath, am introduced to the 
 president, vice-president, secretary, and com- 
 mittee, and finally find myself shaking hands 
 with the waiters and hall-porters in the con- 
 fusion of this electrical rush through the club. 
 Up on the car again, and we stop before a 
 large factory for a few moments, in which I am 
 rapidly told the number of windows, the 
 height of the chimneys, the quantity of 
 employes, and the history, prospects, and a 
 genealogical tree of every partner in the firm. 
 I have just time to ejaculate, " Extraordinary, 
 wonderful, how interesting ! " when we are 
 whirled off again, only to be pulled up suddenly 
 
44 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 opposite another immense manufacturing con- 
 cern. Breathlessly I take in all the details of 
 this firm in a few seconds. " Wonderful, how- 
 very marvel ! " Jerk ! I am thrown pros- 
 trate on my seat in this unwonted conveyance, 
 as we once more dart off with lightning 
 rapidity, and in twenty minutes I have 
 done twenty princely establishments in this 
 fashion, and my brain is a seething whirlpool 
 of statistics connected with the rise or fall of 
 each firm. 
 
 But the piece cie resistance has yet to come. 
 Our headlono- race against time is checked 
 upon a bridge, and we are shown the river 
 thronged with shipping. Vessels of all sorts, 
 sizes, and nationalities all congregated there, 
 huddled together like sheep ; from the impos- 
 ing double-funnelled steamer and the lordly 
 brig, to the common or garden fishing-smack, 
 all the different means of aquatic locomotion 
 are represented, and a perfect forest of masts 
 rises skyward, like the quills of a gigantic 
 porcupine. To inform me of the tonnage, 
 build, horse-power, and speed of every boat 
 visible is the work of a moment. Then off 
 again, and in a couple of minutes we pull up 
 at the offices of a vast shipbuilding yard, where 
 
ROUND BELFAST AT HIGH PRESSURE. 45 
 
 the clang of hammers and the hissing of steam 
 betokens the combination of Capital and 
 Labor within. 
 
 We are hurriedly introduced to the courteous 
 
 ^^sSiu^/v^ 
 
 manager, who sizing me up from top to toe, or, 
 in his own phraseology, from masthead to keel, 
 accompanies a vigorous handshake with the 
 remark, " You look bigger on the stage, Mr. 
 Furniss ; " and, hurried on by the irrepressible 
 MacM., takes us in tow for a tour round the 
 
46 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 works. By a tortuous path over planks, beams, 
 huge pieces of wrought iron and colossal bolts 
 
 and rivets, we are conducted into an immense 
 shed, where, amid the glow from the furnaces 
 and the flying sparks from the forges, big, 
 swarthy smiths are wielding ponderous sledge- 
 hammers, causing the sparks to fly out from the 
 common centre like those of an exploding bomb. 
 These sparks we dodge, and are hurried up a 
 ladder to the shops where the fittings of the 
 big Transatlantic Liners are made, through 
 
ROUND BELFAST AT HIGH PRESSURE. 47 
 
 the lofty sheds where all the surplus stock is 
 stored, and where the cool air chills all the 
 marrow in your bones, rapidly down another 
 ladder, and finally come face to face with the 
 blast furnaces. 
 
 For our edification the doors of these vast 
 ovens are thrown open, and, in the red-hot 
 glow in which we are suddenly bathed, we feel 
 our hair frizz to the roots, a smell of scorched 
 
 clothes pervades the air, and the ominous 
 cracks from our boots portend that in another 
 minute the soles will part company with the 
 uppers. We realize the awful fact that in five 
 
48 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 minutes we will be cremated alive ; so before 
 becoming sacrifices to the ^od of fire, we tear 
 ourselves away from the fearful but fascinating 
 flames. The egg-dance is undoubtedly a won- 
 derful acrobatic feat, but it is mere child's-play 
 to the agility we have to display in threading 
 our way through the pieces of metal in various 
 stages of heat that are strewn in our path. 
 
 From one busy hive of industry to another 
 we rapidly pass, and at last, after being frozen, 
 baked, galvanized, hammered, planed, tarred, 
 and varnished, we emerge into the outer air, 
 and find looming up in front of us the bare 
 skeleton of a huge vessel, a future ocean mon- 
 ster, in its embryo state ; before the flesh, so 
 to speak, is put on outside it, or the mechan- 
 ism placed within. 
 
 Next to this infant is a leviathan of the 
 same class, fully developed, ready to be 
 launched, the Alpha and Omega of perhaps 
 the most wonderful industry in Ireland. Our 
 tour of inspection is complete ; we have super- 
 intended the vessel from the roueh framework 
 to the last coat of varnish ; we receive another 
 hearty handshake and the best of wishes, as 
 we take leave of the genial manager, our 
 whilom guide, and still accompanied by the 
 
ROUND BELFAST AT HIGH PRESSURE. 49 
 
 faithful MacM., find ourselves at last amazed, 
 dazed, and deafened in the street. 
 
 Once more on our wild career, we are rushed 
 through the streets, the city of business and 
 industry passing before us like a panorama, 
 the while our guide rattles away like the 
 inevitable lecturer attached to the panorama, 
 describing everything as we go. Like a little 
 boy on a back seat who always interrupts the 
 lecturer, I venture to ask : 
 
 " Where is the scene of the notorious 
 Belfast riots ? " 
 
 A word to the jarvey ; we rattle round a 
 corner, up one street, down another ; a sudden 
 stop. 
 
 "There you are. That's the Police office 
 outside of which the slaughter took place a 
 few years ago ; now we are passing though the 
 stronghold of the Catholic party — from this 
 bridge you see the Orange quarters as well ; 
 if you turn round you can make a sketch of 
 both." 
 
 This done, we are off again ; in half-an- 
 hour more we are shown everything of interest 
 remaining, and are deposited at our hotel door 
 five minutes before our allotted time. 
 
 " Well, good - by, Mr. Furniss ; glad to 
 
50 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 have been of service to you/' and the good- 
 natured Mac departs. 
 
 Turning over the pages of my notebook, I 
 find a mass of hieroglyphics which I myself 
 cannot quite unravel, for we have gone through 
 the city at an express rate which would have 
 baffled the most electric of artists and the most 
 fluent of writers ; but one peculiar word arrests 
 my eye — " Flesher." This uneuphonious and 
 highly disagreeable word is used by Belfast 
 butchers to denote their calling. If this inno- 
 vation spreads in Belfast, we will no longer 
 hear of undertakers, dentists, bakers, or milk- 
 men — they will be corpsers, toothers, breaders, 
 and milkers ! 
 
 In strong contrast to the lightning guide 
 (" lightning-conductor " I might almost call 
 him) who showed me the Belfast of business, 
 was my literary friend in whose company I saw 
 the Belfast of leisure. Not far from the mad- 
 ding crowd runs a river which for its sylvan 
 quietude and picturesque beauty can well com- 
 pare with the lovely upper reaches of the 
 Thames ; and on its placid bosom I spent an 
 afternoon with a well-known literary celebrity, 
 his charming wife, and an artistic friend, with 
 whom I discussed literature, science, and art, 
 
ROUND BELFAST AT HIGH PRESSURE. 5 I 
 
 interspersed with a fair amount of London 
 society scandal, as an antidote to the conver- 
 sation of the business men, or "cashers" I 
 suppose they ought to be called, of Belfast. 
 
 
 The words Thackeray spoke of the Belfast 
 people in his day had a solid foundation, for 
 they are exemplified in the public of the pres- 
 ent time. They are astoundingly ignorant ; I 
 am assured they read nothing, and people 
 whose' names are household words in the outer 
 world are totally unknown in Belfast, except 
 perhaps a person who is a star in the commer- 
 
52 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 rial firmament, and with whom an acquaintance 
 may tend to increase the balance at their 
 bankers. Charles Dickens was a failure here. 
 " Who the Dickens is he ? " was the joke at 
 the time. The joke cost nothing, so they 
 laughed. 
 
 The pests of Belfast are the street Arabs, 
 scantily attired, bare-footed, and unacquainted 
 with soap, who surround you and worry you to 
 buy those advertising mediums, penny alma- 
 nacs. You throw them a copper, and a free 
 fight in the gutter results for the possession of 
 it. It is the spirit of the place. These ragamuf- 
 fins will fight their money-grubbing way upward, 
 till at some future day, as heads of firms, they 
 will be continuing this sordid, miserly struggle 
 in palatial offices : Terence, Sandy, and Bill, 
 the erstwhile struggling combatants for my 
 copper in the gutter, are now Messrs. Flanagan, 
 MacPherson, and Higgins ; and when under 
 the office windows I draw pictures in colored 
 chalks on the pavement for a living, they will 
 pull down their office blinds and leave my 
 proffered hat copperless on the window-sill. 
 That is Belfast. 
 
Belfast. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 I am glad yon enjoy " Some Circtclar Notes " 
 that I am illustrating in " Punch" They are written 
 
 in X *s best style, and no one appreciates them 
 
 more than the good guide, philosopher and friend 
 " Daubinct " himself. By the way, I did some of the 
 drawings for them in Belfast, and Mr. " MacMoney- 
 gle " came in fust as I was at work on them, and so 
 kindly offered to take me round the town ; so it was 
 this coincidence that made me describe my pleasant ex- 
 perience of MacMonagle in the manner I did, calling 
 him Mr. " MacMoneygle " in the same good spirit in 
 
 which X christened his companion u Daubinet." 
 
 Mr. " MacMoneygle " is probably not known to any 
 great extent outside Belfast, ivhile " Daubinct " is 
 
54 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 known all over the world ; and both he himself and 
 his friends are delighted by X *s humorous refer- 
 ences to him in " Punch" Of course I thought I was 
 paying MacMonagle a compliment ; but the Press is 
 up in arms against me, and he himself is in tears. 
 OJi, dear / oh, dear ! is it only a Presbyterian minis- 
 ter that can be understood in the North ? I said that 
 neither a Frenchman nor 'an Irishman could stand 
 chaff, but in this parallel between " Daubinet " and 
 Mr. " Mac Money gle" Monsieur D. scores o?ie. Of 
 course I wrote and explained my little joke to my good 
 natured acquaintance, MacMonagle. The Press proved 
 just as thin-skinned, and tried to swallow me up with 
 columns of attack and abuse, but I simply left them to 
 themselves, knozving as an old journalistic hand that 
 being perfectly right in everything I said they were 
 bound in time to contradict themselves. This they 
 have done, as you will see by the papers I send you. Their 
 own correspondents, whom they cannot very well con- 
 tradict, have written long letters bearing me out in my 
 statements, and I have received a number of private 
 letters fully indorsing my views. . . . The Pro- 
 fessor is in his element on the scene of the notorious 
 Belfast riots ; for religious, enlightened, artistic and 
 literary Belfast must find some relaxation from its 
 highly-refined and cultured pursuits in faction- fighting 
 
FLYING VISITS. 55 
 
 and bloodshed. The details and statistics anent these 
 disturbances that the Professor has collected would 
 make your hair stand on end. . . . 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
 PS. — This morning I came across the following in 
 an English paper, which I offer to Belfast people as a 
 text for their sermon on the "fiery Fumiss," who had 
 the astounding audacity to say that they were not a 
 literary people. 
 
 " That gratitude is indeed but ' a lively sense of 
 favors to come ' would seem to be the moral of a re- 
 cent incident in Belfast. It is said that upon opening 
 two contribution boxes placed i?i the Free Library for 
 a memorial portrait to the late Canon Grainger, who 
 had presented a collection of antiquities to the Library 
 worth £12,000, they were found to contain a number 
 of pieces of blotting-paper, some free tickets for the 
 Library, some other odds and ends, and five and two- 
 pence in coppers and small silver ! " 
 
 Munificent Messrs. Money, Grubber & Co. ! Where 
 are your " cashcrs " now ? As the Press would say, 
 " Comment is needless ! " 
 
FROM LEDGERS TO LEEKS. 
 
 Counterfeit Celebrities — The Decay of Summer — "All that 
 was left of them" — Miss Taffy's Teeth — Llandudno — 
 Masculine Young Ladies. 
 
 ONTINUING my 
 
 travels, after a fort- 
 night's sojourn in 
 the Emerald 
 Isle, I left it 
 by the North 
 Wall route 
 f o r Holy- 
 head, at half- 
 past nine in 
 the morning. 
 Although the 
 boats of the 
 London and North Western Railway Com- 
 pany are excellent, the cheap tripper is 
 master of the situation, and it was not particu- 
 larly edifying to have to witness the eccentric 
 perambulations of gentlemen on the foredeck, 
 who had evidently determined not to leave the 
 
FROM LEDGERS TO LEEKS. 57 
 
 land of John Jamieson without sampling the 
 famous national beverage. 
 
 It is curious to note, when you are travel- 
 line, the number of 
 counterfeit present- 
 
 ments of notable 
 people you meet. It 
 
 was at York Station, ^'^ 
 I think, that a double F*'p ? i\i 
 of Lord Beaconsneld ^ K U\ 
 waited upon me in the „ ... 
 refreshment room ; y_ 
 in London I have 
 
 frequently been driven by a spurious Mr. 
 Gladstone, while Sir William Harcourt once 
 cleaned my boots at a Northern hotel : so 
 crossing from Ireland, it was gratifying to 
 find that the captain of the good ship Sham- 
 rock was a genial Colonel North, and that 
 Sir Richard Temple was manfully doing his 
 duty at the wheel ; and when I observed 
 this I anxiously inquired if there were any 
 reefs or sand-banks in our course on which he 
 could wreck the ship in revenge for my many 
 caricatures of him. 
 
 Wales, although charming, is somewhat 
 slow, and the local trains fully uphold the 
 
58 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 reputation of the country, as three hours were 
 absorbed in getting to Llandudno from the 
 time we arrived at Holyhead, a journey which 
 
 ought to be accomplished in considerably less 
 than half that time. One is recompensed to a 
 certain extent, as between the beautiful scenery 
 through which one passes, and the extraor- 
 dinary names of the quaint little stations along 
 the line, there is no lack of entertainment on 
 the journey for the traveller, whether his strong 
 sense be either of the sublime or the ridiculous. 
 Skirting the picturesque coast one gets glimpses 
 
FROM LEDGERS TO LEEKS. 
 
 59 
 
 of very pretty little seaside places, with very 
 ugly and big names. Families are waiting at 
 the stations, and the inevitable pile of trunks, 
 bandboxes, perambulators and birdcages 
 mutely testify that the end of the season is 
 near at hand, and the time is not far off when 
 the hotel-keepers and landladies must garner 
 up the rich harvest they have reaped during 
 the summer to keep the pot boiling till the new 
 crop of visitors arrives in the spring. The 
 erratic rows of broken-down bathing-machines 
 
 along" the coast — all that were left of the noble 
 600, more or less — bore mournful testimony 
 to the decay of summer. The journey from 
 London to Llandudno is fearfully tedious, as 
 
6o 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 in the tourist season, the only time of the 
 year when anyone wants to get there, the 
 fast trains rush through without stopping, so 
 it is not surprising that most of the visitors 
 speak with a north-country accent. Although 
 the natives are supposed to be the mildest and 
 most inoffensive people imaginable, they are 
 continually showing their teeth. It is curious 
 to note the number of people with unfortunate 
 
 dental malformations ; I 
 have seen many a pretty 
 Welsh face spoilt by this 
 deformity. Llandudno 
 was our destination, and I 
 found it like all other 
 British watering-places, 
 dear and dull, ruled over 
 in the daytime by a 
 cork-blacked band of 
 cockney minstrels, 
 Punch and Judy, and 
 that very common object, the ubiquitous 
 seaside missionary, the psalm-singer of the 
 shingles ; and at night at the invitation of 
 Riviere they come to do homage at the shrine 
 of music, admission 6d., including a pot-boiling 
 picture show, marionettes and minstrels, and 
 
- 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 
62 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 an exhibition of performing fleas. These latter, 
 I may remark, confine themselves to perform- 
 ing on the pier at Llandudno. The hotels are 
 excellent, the scenery grand, and the weather 
 when I was there was simply perfect. What 
 more could be required for the young and 
 overworked ? Ireland and Wales are becom- 
 ing very modernized. The traveller who, after 
 having looked fruitlessly under the table for the 
 traditional pig, has come to Wales, is disap- 
 pointed to find that the handmaiden who 
 brings him his matutinal 'hot water does not 
 wear the national high stove-pipe hat, and 
 that Davy Jones, the boots, does not warble 
 sweet Welsh melodies while he polishes your 
 shoes. That is only heard at the national 
 Eisteddfodd. The only music I heard came 
 from the drawing-room underneath my room 
 — the twang was that of a Cockney and the 
 song one of Coburn's. 
 
 It has always struck me that young girls 
 at the sea-side seem more in harmony with the 
 place and far more at home than young men, 
 who seem in eccentricity of costume to try to 
 rival the " get-up" of the niggers. At Llan- 
 dudno there was more than the average number 
 of pretty, fresh-looking young girls, but some 
 
FROM LEDGERS TO LEEKS. 
 
 63 
 
 of their elders must have been shocked at the 
 affectation and masculine swagger which they 
 evidently thought it was " the thing" to assume, 
 in strong contrast to the effeminacy of a certain 
 type of young men, the. languid swell of the 
 drawing-room, who even at the seaside makes 
 a parade of his affected ennui. Discarding 
 the once favorite parasol, the Llandudno 
 young lady of &g^ 
 
 to-day arms her- 
 self with a good 
 stout walkine- 
 stick, which she 
 carelessly swings 
 as she whistles 
 a popular tune, 
 to the personal 
 detriment of the 
 maiden lady 
 who, with hor- 
 ror-stricken face 
 is walking be- 
 hind her, and 
 thinking of the prim decorum with which the 
 crinolined young lady of her day was taught 
 to behave. I even noticed that some of these 
 fair visitors, to complete the masculinity of 
 
64 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 their appearance, were accompanied on their 
 strolls by a couple of fox-terriers ! As each 
 specimen of this species approached, I looked 
 anxiously but in vain for a straw in her mouth, 
 and a sporting paper in her hand ; these, no 
 doubt, are in reserve for next year's fashion. 
 

 Llandudno. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 The thermometer is a hundred and some- 
 tiling in the shade here, and I feel as zuarm as I did 
 when inspecting the furnaces at Harland and Wolff's. 
 However, I mustnt grumble ; I daresay yon have it 
 hotter still dozun south. After the wretched zueather 
 we have been having, no one appreciates the quick 
 change more than myself and a few moments after 
 arriving here I was out on the front, basking in the 
 glorious sunshine. Barometer high, my spirits ditto. 
 I had only been out a few minutes when I spotted, 
 sprawling on the shingle with his arms under his 
 
 head, the erstwhile energetic Sir X •, M.P. (you 
 
 remember we met him up the river that day the lunch- 
 boat was lost up a backwater). He greeted me with : 
 " Hallo ! what brings you here ?" At that moment 
 a donkey came along, drawing an erection covered over 
 with bills announcing my entertainment, and as the 
 
66 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 man in charge was behind the conveyance mopping his 
 manly brozu, he (the donkey, not the man) marched 
 right into the small of my back, regardless of conse- 
 quences. When I had recovered from the shock I gath- 
 ered myself together, and pointing to the 
 familiar clock tower „ i^fs^S) 
 
 of the Houses of Par- 
 liament on my bill, 
 
 I said : " That's what 
 brings me here ! " The 
 M.P. gave a groan and 
 ttimed Jus back on me. It 
 was the last place in the world he wanted to be re- 
 minded of during his zvell earned repose. 
 
 The next thing to attract my attention was a small 
 boy on the beach, who was unconcernedly making paper 
 boats out of my handbills, a?id letting them drift out 
 to sea ! Mac turned up just then, and his usually 
 lively spirits seemed to be at zero. I pointed out to 
 him my handbills floating away, but instead of burst- 
 ing into indignation, he said : "It will be just as 
 much use to the fishes as to the people here, for what 
 sane being wants to hear a heated Parliamentary de- 
 bate on a tropical afternoon like this ? Our agent 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 6 7 
 
 tells me that tJiey have tried a matinee here once or 
 tzvice before, but although they opened the doors to 
 their widest extent, not a soul came in I That re- 
 minds me that it's time you went and dressed. I did so, 
 and for the first time it occurred to me Jwzv ridiculous a 
 man looks on a glorious stinuy day at the seaside, rigged 
 out in a black frock-coat and a tall hat, the orthodox 
 matinee dress ; and as I emerged from the hotel in 
 this attire, the sight of the rest of the visitors loung- 
 ing about in their free-and-easy flannels was as gall 
 and wormwood to me. . . . 
 
 Strolling along the front on my way to the hall, I 
 unconsciously attached myself to the tail of a small but 
 interested crozvd, who were being entertained by the 
 antics of Punch and Judy. I pitied the poor man sti- 
 
6S 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 fling inside his show, quite oblivious of the fact that I 
 would have to manipulate my Parliamentary puppets 
 in a few minutes ; and I was laughing quite as loudly 
 as any of the spectators, when I heard : " Come along, 
 do ! " at my elbow ; and Mac, who had been limiting 
 for me up and down, and was hot and breathless, took 
 me in charge, and bore me off to the hall, where I was 
 flattered to find that a small but select audience awaited 
 me. I suppose most of them had served their time in 
 India or some other hot climate, for the place was like 
 a DutcJi oven. 
 
 Of course we had our evenings disengaged, and see- 
 ing by an advertisement that there was to be a Beauty 
 
 
 trz! 
 
 mm 
 
 
 Shozv at a circus, we made our way there after din- 
 ner, anxious to see if the Welsh beauties looked as well 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 6 9 
 
 by gaslight as they did in the sun ; besides, I have rather 
 a predilection for circuses, as you know. The ringmas- 
 ter placed five chairs in the middle of the tan, and 
 called upon the beauty of Llandudno to come out and 
 show itself, offering by way 
 of inducement a silver watch, 
 which was to become the prop- 
 erty of the winner, and which 
 had been advertised all over 
 the town for the last week. 
 This was evidently not suf- 
 ficient temptation to the 
 beauty of Llandudno, for 
 none zvas forthcoming. As 
 a stranger, L might have 
 thought that the place was 
 singularly destitute of fe- 
 male loveliness, had L not 
 gone on the pier the next 
 evening, when, had a compe- 
 tition been organized, the 
 judges would have had a difficult task to " spot the 
 winner." . . . 
 
 Next time L come Jiere L will give my entertainme?it 
 from the door of a bathing-machine on the beach, if 
 the weather is as tropical as it is now; and so that 
 the natives can understand me, I will give it in their 
 own tongue. Fancy the " Member for Boredom " ad- 
 
70 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 dressing the House in Welsh ! Here^s a part of his 
 
 speech in English : 
 
 " Yes, sir, I repeat, I have traversed this gigantic 
 subject from the earliest use of this adhesive substance, 
 when sticking-plaster zvas not a subject to jeopardize a 
 Ministry, nor a surgical appliance the lever used with 
 which to overt Jirow a Government ; and I venture to 
 prophesy that when the prospective New Zealander 
 whom the historian has imagined will be treading the 
 ruins of this House, that the rancorous wound — / re- 
 peat, rancorous wound — now caused by party strife 
 through this momentous question, will be healed, — ■ 
 healed by the use of black sticking-plaster, and not by 
 zuhite sticking-plaster ; and that thus the awful warn- 
 ings I have foreshadozved during the last two 1 tours 
 will prove the means of having saved from destruction 
 this great and glorious country ! " 
 
 Could you imagine my delivering the same passage 
 in Welsh, inteet to gootness ! Here it is : 
 
 "Je, syr, ailddwedaf yr wyf wedi chwilio a chwalu 
 y pwnc auferth hwn o adeg forenaf defuyddiad y syl- 
 wedd ymlynol hzvn, pan nad oedd sticing-plastcr, yu 
 bzvnc i beryglu Gwcinyddiaeth, nac yu offeyrn meddy- 
 gol, gyda trosval y hzvn y dymchwel ir llyzvodraeth, 
 ac yr wyfyu beiddio prophzvydo pan y bydd ir rhag- 
 welgar New Zealander yr hwn y viae yr hanesydd 
 wedi ddychmygu wna drvedio ar adfeilion y ty hzvn, 
 bydd y briw llidiog — ailddywedaf—briw llidiogf yu 
 
FLYING VISITS. 7 1 
 
 awr achoswyd gau genfigen plaid dnvy y cwestiwn 
 pwysfazvr hwn wedi ei wella, ei wella dnvy ddefuyd- 
 dio st icing-plaster die, ac nid sticing-plaster givyni 
 ac felly bydd y rhybuddion ofnadwy wyfwedi rag- 
 gysgod, yn ystod y ddwy awr ddiweddaf wedi profi yit 
 gyfrwng i achub rhag dinystyr y wlad fawreddog a 
 cheodfawr ho7t / " 
 
 / was meditating on the eicphonionsness of the Welsh 
 language as I walked up the hill overlooking the bay, 
 w hen I was struck by the beautiful effect of the sunlight 
 on the deep blue of the water, and wondering at the like- 
 ness of the whole scene to the Bay of Naples, when 
 my artistic musings were disturbed by the voice of the 
 Professor greeting me as he descended the narrow 
 path. He wore an injured air, arid explained to me 
 more in sorrow than in anger that he had paid two- 
 pence to view the Camera Obscura at the top of the 
 hill, but there wasn't a single cemetery to be seen in 
 the whole district. Then, with a sigh : " They must 
 be a healthy lot about here ! But there was a corpse 
 washed up not far from here three weeks ago ; the 
 coastguard 's just been telling me all about it ! " This 
 was evidently some consolation to him. . . . 
 
 Off to Southport to-morrow — no more matinees at 
 the seaside, thank goodness ! . . . 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
SOUTHPORT-ON-SAND. 
 
 The Sahara of Lancashire — An Artificial Seaside — The Fair 
 on the Sands— The Wreck of the " William Fisher "—A 
 Gigantic Centipede— Dry Land Sailing— A Family Photo 
 — The New Theatre. 
 
 S so much has been written from 
 time to time about Southport, 
 ^ it is unnecessary for me to 
 dwell, as I otherwise should 
 do, on the beauties of the 
 place, its splendid buildings 
 and spacious streets ; in- 
 stead I will mingle with 
 the crowd, and endeavor 
 to give you some sketches 
 of character and incident. 
 
 I am sure that the good-natured, joke-loving 
 Lancastrians are not so sensitive and thin- 
 skinned as to resent friendly, well-meant chaff, 
 and to rise up in arms against a humorous 
 and good-natured criticism. All of us, no 
 doubt, with the weakness of human nature, are 
 fond of criticising ourselves from our own point 
 
SO UTHPOR T- ON-SAND. 
 
 73 
 
 of view ; but we must sometimes see ourselves 
 as others see us. 
 
 To all appearance Southport, although be- 
 loved of visitors — judging from the vast number 
 of holiday-makers and seekers of health who 
 come to revel in its life- 
 giving atmosphere — does 
 not quite hit it off with the 
 author of its being — the 
 sea ; for the Irish Channel 
 has for years been receding 
 from the imposing " front," 
 and is now separated from 
 it by a vast expanse of sand, 
 which might well be called 
 the Sahara of Lancashire. 
 But the inhabitants, seeing 
 their chances of boating and 
 bathing becoming small by 
 degrees and beautifully less, 
 and unwilling to lose their 
 ocean, have constructed a lake by the 
 esplanade, into which they have brought the 
 erring sea through the medium of pipes, 
 determined at all costs to have a seaside, 
 whether natural or artificial. Here the cheap 
 tripper loves to disport himself in the very 
 
74 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 cockleshellest of pleasure boats, frantically- 
 urging the frail craft on its devious course 
 with uncertain stroke, heedless of the strict 
 injunction placed on boards round the lake, 
 " Boats keep to the right." However, as the 
 water is only four feet deep, these erratic 
 mariners are not so very much to be feared. 
 
 ffggt 
 
 The " dry-bobs," who do not care about trust- 
 ing themselves on the bosom of the vasty deep, 
 find a varied assortment of amusement pre- 
 sented by the fair on the sands. Solicitous 
 photographers, "Try your weight!" "Try 
 your height ! " " Try your strength ! " try your 
 temper ; switchbacks, swings, roundabouts, 
 cocoanut shies, and every conceivable item that 
 
S O UTHPOR T- ON-SAND. J 5 
 
 oeems essential to the happiness of the excur- 
 sionist are to be found here ; and beach artists 
 and photographers are as plentiful as grass- 
 hoppers — sandhoppers, I should say. 
 
 The first object to attract the visitor's 
 attention is, strange to say, a ship. In the 
 distance you see what you imagine is the name 
 " writ large " on the bulwarks. Raising your 
 glass to decipher the name, you read " Refresh- 
 ments." This is the good ship William 
 Fisher y whose captain, evidently of an in- 
 quiring turn of mind, one fine day, or one 
 stormy night, I forget which, ventured to 
 approach too close to the shore and found 
 himself fast on the ground. Resolving to wait 
 for the next flood-tide, he turned in, and when 
 he woke in the morning he found his ship high 
 and dry on the sands. This was two years 
 ago, and that flood-tide has never come ; but 
 the ship has since been bought up by an enter- 
 prising contractor, and now, under the cogno- 
 men of " The Sands Museum and Refreshment 
 Rooms," does a thriving business — admission 
 2d. 
 
 The pier, gradually extended to keep pace 
 with the ever-receding sea, has now attained 
 an enormous length, stretching itself like a 
 
76 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 gigantic centipede across the waste of sand 
 between the sea and the shore. To traverse 
 this is quite a journey by the tram, which has 
 been constructed for the convenience of visit- 
 ors, and runs the whole length of the pier. If 
 
 matters go on like this, one may expect to see 
 Southport's splendid pier become a bridge 
 between the coast of Lancashire and the Isle 
 of Man. 
 
 But perhaps the most unique feature of 
 Southport is " dry-land sailing." This is ac- 
 complished through the medium of yachts, the 
 masts of which spring from a coffin-shaped 
 hull mounted on four wheels. In these the 
 visitor may sail through space undeterred by 
 visions of the perils and qualms of the deep, 
 
SO UTHPOR T- ON-SAND. 
 
 77 
 
 and the only rocks to be feared are the nurse- 
 maids with perambulators or the seaside don- 
 keys. 
 
 The bathing machines are few and far 
 between, and are to be discerned far off on 
 the horizon like scattered dots ; and Jack, 
 leaving his chosen one on the banks of the 
 Marine Park, bids her a fond adieu as he 
 
 ■"• T Ti!T^n 
 
 departs on his long 
 and tedious journey 
 to disport himself 
 in the sea. But af- 
 ter all, the lake is 
 
 the great attraction, and the boat - owners 
 do good business ; so also do the photog- 
 raphers, who ply their trade on the banks, 
 and when you come across a boat close in 
 shore containing a motionless family group, 
 their faces pervaded with an angelic smile, you 
 have not far to look for the camera. The lake 
 
78 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 is a busy hive of pleasure-seekers, and perhaps 
 
 the happiest of 
 all are the groups 
 of laughing, 
 bare-legged 
 little children 
 who throng the 
 
 ri41 tRT7//- (JMf ^i^ banks, indulging 
 
 in that ever 
 popular juvenile 
 pastime, pad- 
 dling. Here and there on the sands are sundry- 
 boards bear- 
 ing notices 
 which have 
 long since ful- tb\ 
 filled theirQ 
 mission, and 
 with the ther- 
 
SOUTH POR T- ON-SAND. 
 
 79 
 
 mometer at 8o° in the shade you are in- 
 formed that the ice is unsafe and will not 
 bear, when the very mention of ice makes 
 your parched, sand-baked mouth water. 
 
 Excavations are beino- carried on with the 
 purpose of making another Marine Lake, in 
 which the promenaders on the Esplanade take 
 the liveliest interest, although at its present 
 stage the work looks rather unsightly. Still 
 
80 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 the undertaking is a gigantic one, and worthy 
 of the master hand of Lesseps himself. 
 
 One would have thought the inhabitants of 
 Southport, with their magnificent Winter 
 Gardens, desired nothing more in the way of 
 amusement resorts, but in the week I happened 
 to be there a splendid new theatre (attached 
 to the Winter Gardens) was opened with great 
 dcldt. Beautifully upholstered, lavishly dec- 
 orated, and brilliantly illuminated, Southport 
 theatre is qualified to stand in the very front 
 rank, and the inhabitants are to be congratulat- 
 ed on the possession of such a fine building. 
 But if I continue in this strain I shall lapse into 
 the familiar eulogistic guide-book style, which 
 I strenuously endeavor to avoid, though in this 
 case I could not omit the meed of praise. 
 
Southport. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 A ny port in a storm — but Southport. You 
 zvillsee what I mean if you read my article in " Black 
 and White." If you sailed within two miles or so of the 
 land, your yacht, or whatever your vessel might be, 
 would be left dry, if not high, on the sands, and would 
 be converted into a refreshment bar, or museum, or 
 have swings from the masts, or be utilized for one of 
 the thousand and one contrivances for the recreation of 
 the holiday-making Lancashire lads and lasses wJiich 
 I show in my drazving of Southport in " Punchy 
 This latter I did from the window of my room in the 
 hotel overlooking this festive scene. . . . 
 
 After two days here zve summed up our courage, 
 determined to outdo all previous explorers of deserts, 
 and ventured across the trackless zvastes of sand that 
 
82 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 stretch between Southport and the sea. I left a letter 
 on the hotel table to be forzvarded to yon in case I 
 never returned, and zve took a touching farewell of 
 the Professor, who declined to leave his seat on the 
 front, as he had just been sent a copy of the " Newgate 
 Calendar " as a birthday present ; besides, he thought 
 there might be a chance of forming one of an exploring 
 party afterward, and feasting his eyes upon the specta- 
 cle of our two skeletons bleaching in the sun. 
 
 We fully realized the hazardous nature of our un- 
 dertaking, so zve provisioned and armed ourselves ac- 
 cordingly. We took with ?is — 
 
 1. Two boxes of meat tablets. ( We took these on the 
 
 strength of the advertisement, which assured 
 us that one of them would keep a family alive 
 for a month,) 
 
 2. One machine for distilling fresh water from salt 
 
 zvater. 
 
 3. One mariner's compass. 
 Jf,. One map of the world. 
 
 5. One patent tent, which could be used also as an 
 
 umbrella, a camp-stool, or a mosquito net. 
 
 6. Three dictionaries of foreign languages. 
 
 7. One medicine chest. 
 
 8. One Winchester repeater each, in case we used up 
 
 the meat tablets, or that advertisement about 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 83 
 
 them should be an unscrupulous lie, which 
 
 would compel us to depend on our guns for our 
 
 dinners. 
 
 Thus equipped ', we sallied fortli, and after two days' 
 
 march we reached the end of the pier. Here we made 
 
 a careful observation by means of the sun and the 
 compass, and decided to strike out westward. After 
 marching steadily on for some time, we came across 
 what looked in the distance like a small pile of skele- 
 tons, 'and we sliuddered to think that they were all that 
 remained of some former foolhardy explorers, and trem- 
 bled for our own fate. Hoivever, on closer inspection, 
 
84 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 they proved to be the remains of a bathing-machine. 
 I examined them, and gave it as my opinion that the 
 machine was of Ancient BritisJi manufacture, and 
 that probably our primeval ancestors used it when the 
 sea was a few miles further in than at present ; but 
 Mac brought his scientific knozv ledge to bear, and said 
 No, that it zvas of the Roman period, and that, from 
 the appearance of the rust on the zvheels, it had never 
 been near salt water ; so we came to the conclusion 
 that it must have broken down on the way to the sea, 
 and had remained there ever since. Besides, Mac 
 found close by, half buried in the sand, a bone, which 
 he was sure, from the formation, was that of a bath- 
 ing machine horse ; so it seemed to point out that our 
 theory was correct. 
 
 Before zve were quite out of sight of land we took 
 careful note of some landmarks — an old boot, an empty 
 beer bottle, a tinned beef can, and other " common ob- 
 jects of the seashore.'" We came across a footmark — 
 one footmark ! Hozv it zvas there zvas only one, at 
 first puzzled tts considerably. Robinson Crusoe him- 
 self zvas startled by seeing a footmark, and it zvas not 
 a single one ; but in our case zve could see no trace of 
 a second, so zve decided that we would not be honored 
 by a savage appearing and kissing our feet, but that 
 someone had dropped an old boot from a balloon, and 
 
FLYING VISITS. 85 
 
 that it had been picked up and carried off by some jack- 
 daw that kept a collection of odds and ends. 
 
 The rest of our journey was uneventful, except that 
 hunger came upon us, and we finished the meat tablets 
 in a feiv mouthfuls, and were reduced to staying the 
 pangs of hunger with the contents of the medicine 
 chest. That advertisement is an infamous lie / The 
 meal we made off the medicine chest had a stupefying 
 effect, which incapacitated us from further endeavors 
 to explore the Lancastrian Sahara ; so we made an- 
 other observation, and directed our zueary footsteps to 
 the Promenade, arriving just in time to dress for the 
 entertainment in the evening. 
 
 Nice appreciative audience, thanks to the energetic 
 local manager, whose hands are always full ivitJi 
 dramatic performances, but especially just at present, 
 as the new theatre has only been opened this week. 
 The large Winter Gardens are typical of Southport ; 
 for within their precincts all the indoor amusements of 
 the place are concentrated. In the new theatre just 
 mentioned Miss Kate Vaughau and company were 
 playing in " The Dancing Girl," yours truly enter- 
 tained the inhabitants with " The Humors of Parlia- 
 ment " in the Pavilion Theatre, a promenade concert 
 
S6 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 was being held in the large conservatory, while a cir- 
 cus was doing good business in the grounds. I think 
 that next time I come to Southport lie ill deliver a recita- 
 tion in my entertainment ', entitled '" Through Sandiest 
 Southport ; or, How I Found the Sea." Mae will ap- 
 pear as " Little Sandy " in the circus, while the Pro- 
 fessor will impersonate the villain in " The Murder 
 in the Red Barn " at the new theatre. . . . 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
THE BRIGHTON OF THE NORTH. 
 
 The Spa and its Manager— A Contrast— The Jockey Postil- 
 ions—A Sketch after Leech— Familiar Figures on the 
 Spa — The Wielder of the Baton— A Band of Undertakers 
 — The Visitors' Daily Programme. 
 
 r; 
 
 CARBOROUGH 
 
 at different times 
 
 has been called 
 
 Escadeburgh, 
 
 Scearburg, and 
 
 Scardeburgh. It 
 
 is a wonder it has 
 
 never been chris- 
 
 ened Spaborough, 
 
 for the Spa is the chief 
 
 feature of the place, 
 
 and Mr. Francis 
 
 Goodricke, whose portrait 
 I give here, the well-known 
 manager of the Spa, is the chief person. A more 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 striking contrast than Scarborough and South- 
 port can hardly be imagined. Flatness in the 
 first-named place is unknown. Steep precip- 
 itous cliffs rear up their rugged heads on ei- 
 ther side ; in place of the long spider-like pier, 
 there is a short, solid stone one ; the sea, in- 
 stead of being far away out, beats against 
 the promenade, and frequently dashes over it ; 
 and the class of visitors is of a different 
 tone altogether. Scarborough is well known 
 as the Brighton of the North ; Southport, 
 I should say, is the Ramsgate. 
 
 Materfami- 
 lias is popu- 
 larly supposed 
 to go to the 
 seaside with 
 her bevy of 
 daughters with 
 much the same 
 intentions as a 
 ^farmer takes his 
 f little flock of 
 ^lambs to the 
 market — to dis- 
 pose of them to the highest bidder; and 
 the stranger, arriving at Scarborough for the 
 
THE BRIGHTON OF THE NORTH. 89 
 
 first time, and meditating upon this point, 
 would doubtless think that here the market 
 is in a flour- ^ 
 
 ishing state ^ ^ ^^ _^ _^ ^ 
 
 indeed, for 
 there is a 
 
 gala - like f^MYA? iJ^ft* 
 appeara nee I- «j r m — vJf J!L JL^ | 
 given to the 
 streets by the equipages darting about in all 
 directions — the horses all bestridden by pos- 
 tilions clad in jockeys' costumes of all colors 
 of the rainbow. I well recollect that some 
 of John Leech's happiest sketches were done 
 in Scarborough, and that choice picture of his 
 of the portly invalid in the pony-carriage, say- 
 ing, " Now these postil- 
 ions never seem to be un- 
 well ! Upon my word, I 
 verily believe if I were to 
 change places with that 
 little chap I should be ever 
 so much better ! " still 
 lingers in my memory ; 
 but I had an idea that 
 these postilions had vanished since Leech's day, 
 an idea that was soon dispelled when I arrived 
 
go 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 at Scarborough to find such numbers of them 
 flitting about. I saw a corpulent Jehu slum- 
 bering upon his box-seat, and made a sketch 
 of him — perchance this stout, middle-aged 
 individual was himself the diminutive postilion 
 of Leech's sketch ! 
 
 But if the jockeys remain, the old Spa of 
 those times has disappeared, 
 with its crinolines and Dun- 
 dreary whiskers, and Phcenix- 
 like there has arisen from its 
 ashes the present noble struct- 
 ure ; and in place of Leech, 
 Sothern, and other contem- 
 poraries who frequented this 
 charming watering-place, and 
 whiled away the hours with 
 Be IPs Life and Harry Lor re- 
 quer, we now find familiar 
 figures on the Spa reading 
 Black and White and Rudyard 
 Kipling's latest. Lord Londesborough may 
 be seen chatting with Sir George Womb- 
 well about Mr. Blundell Maple's recent 
 big purchase of Common, in the hearing 
 of the Jubilee Plunger ; Lady Ida Sitwell 
 is pensively contemplating the sea — I refrain 
 

92 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 from reperpetrating the worn-out joke to 
 the effect that her husband would " sit 
 well " again for Scarborough, but agree with 
 the spirit of it. Mr. James Payn is there 
 "takkin' notes," and our dear old friend Toole 
 is fortifying himself with some fresh air for 
 the arduous undertaking of amusing the pub- 
 lic in the evening at the pretty little Spa 
 
 Theatre. But 
 throughout the 
 season, year after 
 year, no figure is 
 better known than 
 the portly one be- 
 longing to Herr 
 Meyer Lutz, the 
 popular and 
 talented wielder of 
 the baton at the 
 Gaiety. One 
 " comic man of a 
 paper" — to quote the Belfast press — seeing 
 Mr. Lutz and his merry band seated in the 
 stand all with tall hats on, remarked that they 
 looked like so many undertakers ; and really 
 it is impossible to find a better simile than 
 Mr. George R. Sims has done for the funny 
 
THE BRIGHTON OF THE NORTH. 
 
 93 
 
 appearance of a circle of men on a sunny 
 morning at the seaside, each crowned with 
 the incongruous "topper." 
 
 As you look out from your hotel window 
 upon the bay, a pretty sight is presented by 
 the flotilla of brown-sailed fishing smacks, 
 some at anchor and some cruising about ; for 
 Scarborough is not a merely ornamental 
 watering-place, but a fishing centre as well, 
 and very picturesque do the tall, bronzed, big- 
 booted fisher- 
 y- 
 
 men look as 
 
 they lounge 
 
 about the 
 
 quay, hands 
 
 in pocket, 
 
 pipe in mouth, 
 
 while their 
 
 boats lie at anchor in the bay. They are 
 
 a fine lot of men, these well-built, sturdy 
 
 toilers of the deep at Scarborough, worthy 
 
 descendants of the hardy, old-time Northern 
 
 sailors. 
 
 The visitors' daily programme varies little. 
 In the morning they visit the Spa, and listen 
 to the sweet music discoursed by Mr. Lutz's 
 band, or venturing on the ail-but perpendicular 
 
94 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 tramway, they are taken swiftly up the side 
 of the precipitous cliffs on their perilous 
 pilgrimage to Mr. Sarony's photographic 
 studio. The morning is soon whiled away 
 in this fashion, and the afternoon is general- 
 ly devoted to a drive round the charming 
 country surrounding the town. In the even- 
 ing the Spa is the attraction. Mr. Lutz and 
 his merry men are to the fore again, and their 
 music is greatly appreciated by the well- 
 dressed throng of fashionable people strolling 
 up and down the spacious promenade by the 
 sea — a beautiful scene on a still summer night. 
 Others can spend the evening in the theatre, 
 where there is always some amusement pro- 
 vided by the enterprising management, which 
 fully deserves the patronage so freely ac- 
 corded. 
 
iff"/ 
 
 Scarborough, 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 It is a funny thing, which I fail to under- 
 stand, and of which I cannot get any explanation, that 
 my " Humors of Parliament" which is in no way a 
 party picture, and which, as you know, is accepted 
 equally by the Radical, Tory, Liberal, and Unionist 
 press, should be chiefly patronized by one party — the 
 Tories. Any stranger travelling with me might well 
 suppose that 99 per cent, of the people of Great Britain 
 are Conservatives, zvere he to judge only from my audi- 
 ences. As you know, I hold the scales of political feel- 
 ing as equally as I can ; if one side goes down at any 
 time, the other follows suit the next moment. 
 
 Since last writing you I have been to Derby, 
 Birmingham, Nottingham, and Sunderland ; and it 
 was in fear and trembling that at the first mentioned 
 
96 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 place I produced the massive form of Sir William 
 Harcourt before an excellent audience, naturally com- 
 posed, I thought, of his constituents, but the roar of 
 laughter with which the caricature was greeted rather 
 puzzled me, until I was informed that there was hardly 
 a supporter of his in the place ; zvliile at Sunderland 
 the much worshipped member and orator received me 
 with open arms, and bestowed upon me all the hospital- 
 ity in his power, but he drew the line at coming to the 
 hall in the evening to hear " The Humors of Parlia- 
 ment T Here again, had the Liberal member come, he 
 would have been in a minority in a hall filled with 
 supporters of the Opposition side, even in a town which 
 is always represented by a member of Mr. Storey s 
 advanced views, and so I have found it north, south, 
 east, and zvest. Perhaps on my next tour I shall have 
 the Opposition side, for whom I cater just as much, 
 and for zvJwm I have just as much regard. Now here 
 in Scarborough, where people meet from all parts, my 
 audience is naturally not so one-sided. The ge?iial 
 Frank Lockwood, with some high luminary of the lazv, 
 was sandwiched between two of the hottest Tories. 
 Speaking of sandwiches, I would say that tJiere is 
 food for thought in the fact that Liberals and Radi- 
 cals fought shy of an entertainment which is sup- 
 posed to good-naturedly give them an insight into the 
 
FLYING VISITS. 97 
 
 Legislative Chamber they talk so much about, and in 
 which they take such an interest. I have consulted 
 lots of people upon this point without being able to 
 unravel the mystery. I took the Professor into my 
 confidence the other evening as he was packing away 
 the lantern and paraphernalia after the evening's per- 
 formance. He thought deeply and lie thought long, 
 and at last he said: " Parliament, to tell you the 
 truth, isn't much in my line ; but I've often wondered 
 why you never show the House of Commons after the 
 dynamite explosion. And then there's that member 
 who shot himself on Hampstcad Heath — that would 
 make a splendid slide. I could fire a pistol from the 
 back, and you could writhe in supposed agony on the 
 platform. That would draw the other class ; and if 
 you want any more horrors — not /minors — why ' I've 
 got 'em on my list ! ' " . . . 
 
 Yours, &c, 
 
SANCTITY AND HAMS. 
 
 York— An Artistic Joke— J. L. Toole and the Native— Up the 
 River— A Clerical City — A Church-like Theatre — York as 
 a Commercial Centre. 
 
 ORK is famous for 
 three things — its 
 Minster, its Lord 
 Mayor, and its ham. 
 Its Minster is 
 second to none in 
 England, its Lord 
 Mayor takes pre- 
 cedence of all others, and its 
 hams, perhaps, are more 
 widely known and appreciated than either. 
 You need not go to York to taste its hams ; 
 few, I think, travel purposely there on the 
 chance of seeing its chief civic dignity ; 
 but the Minster must be seen to be admired, 
 and having admired it, and had a walk 
 round the walls, you arrive again at the 
 station, whence, if you be an average British 
 tourist, you will depart to fresh fields and 
 
SANCTITY AND HAMS. 
 
 99 
 
 pastures new. For those who are inter- 
 ested in antiquity, however, a few days will 
 hardly suffice to revel among the stones and 
 mortar of former generations. 
 
 Leaving the station, before going over the 
 river on your way to the Minster, the first 
 object you see is an ex-Lord 
 Mayor upon a pedestal. This 
 is the first and last artistic joke 
 you will find in this decorous 
 Cathedral City. Why an old 
 gentleman, who we are told 
 was everything that was good 
 and laudable, should be 
 grossly caricatured in stone 
 in the city for which 
 
 She did so much, is a 
 secret which is not 
 divulged. It is sad 
 jenough to have re- 
 corded that the dear 
 old man suffered badly 
 from gout in his feet, 
 if we are to judge 
 from the statue; but it is too bad to have 
 published the fact that this benefactor of 
 York was also an inebriate — at least, it 
 
IOO 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 would not be complimentary to the sculptor 
 to think that he had imagined the old gentle- 
 man in a state of intoxication. To complete 
 the joke, when I came up I found a policeman 
 sadly contemplating the statue, evidently 
 
 thinking it was 
 hi oh time it was 
 removed, and I 
 must say that I 
 concur with him 
 entirely. 
 
 Perhaps 
 is not in 
 province 
 dwell upon 
 beauties of 
 Cathedral, 
 ' t i 
 
 it 
 my 
 
 to 
 the 
 the 
 but 
 
 strange 
 
 the Prince of comedians, 
 
 rather 
 I have 
 never heard 
 them discoursed 
 upon by anyone 
 with Greater fer- 
 vency than by 
 Mr. J. L. Toole, 
 
 whom I again accidentally encountered 
 when I was in York. You would think the 
 
SANCTITY AND HAMS. 
 
 101 
 
 people of York, with their Cathedral, had 
 quite sufficient in the way of places of worship. 
 But no ; in addition to the imposing old 
 Minster, there are innumerable churches, 
 which you will find at every turn. Speaking 
 of this characteristic, Mr. Toole says that he 
 met a native of York, and asked him which 
 was his church. 
 
 " My church ? " says the mystified towns- 
 man. 
 
 " Yes, your church," said Mr. Toole ; " I 
 thought there fffe^S} 
 was a 
 
 church jfe'it ^ 
 to every inhabi- 
 
 tant in York ? " 
 But, like the 
 young people 
 in Mr. D u 
 Maurier's pict- 
 ure in a late 
 number of 
 Punch, who go abroad to see the country, but dis- 
 cover a hotel with a good tennis-lawn, on which 
 they spend all their time, I, being passionately 
 fond of " going up the river," early in the morn- 
 ing, got into a skiff, and passing under the grace- 
 ful bridge which spans the river close by the 
 
102 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 Minster, rowed quickly out of the town away 
 up into the peaceful upper stretches of the 
 Ouse. I may be excused on the ground that 
 this was not my first visit to the charming 
 old city, as on a previous occasion I had "done" 
 the beauties of the Cathedral, walked the walls, 
 a la Blondin, and explored the quaint old 
 streets and shops ; but somehow a city or town 
 of antiquity in activity always inspires me with 
 a desperate longing for exercise and bustle, 
 so as an antidote I went off to 
 Sheffield. The inhabitants of 
 York seem so imbued with the 
 clerical element, that the greatest 
 activity shown by them is in 
 rushing off to services ; in fact, 
 everything seems to be under the 
 shade of the Minster. Even the 
 theatre is built like a church. I 
 have not been inside, so I cannot 
 say whether the inside is in keep- 
 ing with the exterior, or if the 
 plays are limited to those model 
 pieces with moral objects by 
 Pinero or Henry Arthur Jones. The popular 
 member, Mr. Frank Lockwood, whose portrait, 
 with his pleasant, beaming countenance, meets 
 
SANCTITY AND HAMS. 
 
 03 
 
 =3,") 
 
 you at every turn, greets me as a fellow- 
 member of the T. P. C, and his dress is em- 
 blematical of that mystic club. 
 
 The only sign of commercial activity in 
 York, to the ^/, Oj ^ "^ p 
 ordinary ob-zrt^Cc.^ &~ ^ 
 server,seems 
 to be the 
 smoking 
 chimneys of 
 Rowntree's 
 manufactory. 
 Is this going 
 to spread its 
 branches, 
 andwillYork 
 at some 
 future date 
 bud out as 
 a commer- 
 cial centre ? 
 Are the gates 
 and bars to be transformed into entrances to 
 large factories, a district railway constructed 
 round the walls, and the Cathedral surrounded 
 and eclipsed by forests of chimneys? Let us 
 hope not. 
 
 1 
 
 ! 1 Sit— r > 
 
York. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 Left Harrogate on Friday ', after giving a 
 matinee there the day before ; and am very sorry I 
 cotcld not stop longer so as to do an article on it in 
 " Black and White? I zvill have to leave it till next 
 visit. Thursday was a wretchedly rainy day, and 
 everybody was gruinbling because they couldrft get out. 
 Dont see why they sJwidd grumble ; they came tJiere 
 for the waters, and they had got them ! 
 
 Despite Jupiter Pluvius, there was not standing 
 room — not even umbrella standing room — in the hall 
 at the Spa in which I endeavored to entertain the B.P. ; 
 indeed, I had to hand my chair doivn off the platform 
 to a young lady who had stood all through the first 
 part. 
 
 We stopped at the Queen Hotel ; very comfortable 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 105 
 
 indeed, and most sociable — dancing in the evening, and 
 all that sort of tiling. As this hotel stands back from 
 the road in what I supposed were its own grounds, I 
 was surprised to see the faces of a small crowd of 
 natives flattened against the windows of the ballroom 
 intently watching the proceedings, but I afterward dis- 
 covered that there was a right-of-way past the frottt 
 
 ^d 
 
 of the hotel, and that the inhabitants used this as a 
 gratuitous peep show. 
 
 At six next morning I was roused from my slum- 
 bers by an imperious knock at the door. " What 
 is it ? " I asked, somewhat gruffly, rather ruffled at 
 having my dreams thus rudely dispelled. " Why, the 
 waters, sir ! " came from outside the door, in tones 
 that betokened that the speaker was surprised at my 
 asking the question. " But I don't want my hot water 
 
io6 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 at this time of the morning ! " " No, sir, the wa- 
 ters ; it's time to get up and drink them ! " 
 
 I tried hard to go to sleep again, but it was of no 
 use ; so I got up and looked out of my window, when 
 I sazv some people being carried off in what seemed to 
 me to be a prison van. I dressed myself, and got down- 
 
 stairs just as they zuere returning. They zvere the 
 visitors who had come to drink the waters, and the ex- 
 pressions on their faces made me feel glad that 1 had 
 not gone with them. I mean to take the first oppor- 
 tunity I have to come back to Harrogate. It is 
 true the waters are not very nice ; but then I don't 
 drink them, while the place and the people are both 
 charming. . . . 
 
FLYING VISITS. 107 
 
 By the way, I am much obliged for the lecture you 
 gave me in your last letter about not taking sufficient 
 exercise. I believe you are right; for I am getting 
 most alarmingly stout. Wish I had followed Dick 
 Turpins example, and ridden Jiere. As I didiit do 
 that, I did what seemed to me to be the next best tiling 
 — / rowed when I got Jiere. Mac and I got up at 
 some unearthly hour this morning, and made our way 
 down to the banks of the Ouse, where zve found plenty 
 of rowing boats, but no one to hire them from, 
 though there was a barge moored close in shore, from 
 its curtained windows evidently the residence of the 
 proprietor of the boats round about it. We told each 
 other that we were sorry for the proprietor : we must 
 zvakc him up ; but York is a sleepy place, and no efforts 
 of ours could rouse the somnolent inhabitant of the 
 barge. We yelled, we zv hist led, we shouted, and finally 
 threw bricks on to the deck that constituted his roof, 
 but all to no purpose. However, we had come there 
 for a row, and a roiv zve were going to have, so zve 
 determined to feloniously seize a boat. 
 
 I know you are fond of going " up the river" but I 
 think you would not have exactly cared about putting 
 in an appearance at Henley Regatta in the craft we 
 managed to get hold of. The only boat zve could get at 
 possessed tzvo oars, but one was about three feet long 
 
io8 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 and the other about nineteen. This was rather a 
 drawback, and they were the only tzvo visible ; how- 
 ever, we stealthily 7indid the painter and sJwved off. 
 I took stroke with the short oar, and, rowing about J$ 
 to Macs 3, we managed to keep the boat more or less 
 in the centre of the river , but she moved very slowly. 
 I was getting exercise though, and that was what I 
 had come for. 
 
 But there was an earlier bird than either of us up to 
 catch the worm — need I say an angler? He was 
 squatting on his heels on the bank in what I should 
 think was a very uncomfortable position, steadfastly 
 regarding his float ; and as we came cJiurning along 
 he called out to us : " Nazv, then, mak sharp ! doaiit 
 fraaten all f fish awaa ! " / zuas doing my best, for 
 I had increased my stroke to something like 60 a min- 
 ute ; but Mac, having a sy mp at liy for anglers, put his 
 
FLYIXG VISITS. 109 
 
 back into it, quite regardless of the steering, and the 
 consequence was that just as we were abreast of the 
 angler we described a beautiful curve in the water, and 
 Mac got his oar mixed up with the line, and the more 
 the frantic fisJicrman roared at us the more we rowed, 
 until zve had completely circumvented his line and got 
 it knotted around everything in the vicinity. He fairly 
 danced with rage upon the bank, while zve simply 
 roared with laughter in the boat. Eventually, in our 
 endeavors to get free, my wr etched apology for an oar 
 slipped out of the rowlock, and Mac, giving a mighty 
 sweep with his at that moment, we ran violently into 
 the bank, with a shock that caused us to land in a 
 most unexpected and undignified manner, and at the 
 same time disentangled us from the line; so we left 
 the disciple of Lzaak Walton to claim salvage on the 
 boat, and walked back to the bridge we started from, 
 where on the other bank we found a boat more worthy 
 of our aquatic pozvers, so zve had a rozv in tJie oppo- 
 site way, " where the angler ceased from troubling 
 and the weary zvere at rest " — in bed ; for it zvas still 
 early, and zve hardly saw a soul on cither side of the 
 river. . . . 
 
 Taking a zvalk through the town while waiting for 
 breakfast, I passed an old hotel which zvas the hotel 
 last time I zvas in York. I dont know whether I eve* 
 
no 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 told you of a funny experience I had there once. I 
 was 011 a walking tour tJirougJi Durham and York- 
 shire, and at the time I speak of I found myself in 
 York, ordering my dinner in the coffee-room of the — 
 let us say — " White Goose," when I noticed at the bot- 
 tom of the wine list the name of the proprietor, and I 
 theiz recollected that I had met him in a hotel in Lon- 
 don, upo?i which occasion 
 he told me that if ever I 
 was in York I was not to 
 forget to go to the " White 
 Goose" of zvliicli he was 
 the proprietor, and where 
 I was to consider myself 
 his guest. As I don't 
 much care about being 
 under obligations of that 
 kind, I was rather glad 
 than otherzvise that I had 
 completely forgotten the invitation ; but the proprietor 
 had noticed my name on my handbag, and lie promptly 
 came to me, reminded me of my promise, and insisted 
 on my having dinner with him in his private room. 
 The next day he drove me about in his dog- cart, and 
 showed me the race-course and other places of interest. 
 All this was very kind indeed, I thought ; so judge of 
 
FLYING VISITS. Ill 
 
 my surprise when, on leaving, I fotind myself charged 
 with two dinners in a private room and t lie hire of the 
 trap for the day ! It is a long time ago now, and I 
 may have been charged for the driver — mine host. 
 No wonder he died rich. I was fairly, or rather un- 
 fairly, " bowled by a Yorker ! " 
 
 Returning over the bridge we met, to our surprise, 
 the Professor, wJw, with radiant face, was descending 
 the steps leading down from the walls. He informed 
 us that he had been to inspect the spot where Black 
 Bess dropped dozvn dead, and had then spent a most 
 enjoyable hour among the tombstones in the cathedral 
 — this with the air of a man who considers he has done 
 a good morning's work. . . . 
 
 Yours. &c, 
 
SHEFFIELD IN BLACK AND WHITE. 
 
 Wsm 
 
 A Picture of Sheffield, Black— Another, White—" Aa know 
 that man, he cums fra' Sheffield " — EndclirT Wood — 
 Puzzle, find the Queen. 
 
 *^' ^ BBir ^ EATED at the 
 
 /\ window of my room 
 ifej in my hotel at 
 Pi Sheffield, I turned 
 r over the leaves of 
 my blotter, and 
 suffering I suppose 
 from ennui y sat list- 
 lessly gazing at the 
 i n k-b espattered 
 page. I joined a 
 line here and there 
 with my pen, to 
 make the strokes 
 look like chimneys, 
 and a few touches 
 were sufficient to transform the mass of 
 blots into a very truthful representation of 
 Sheffield ! I here reproduce it as an initial to 
 
 tiiiftl 
 
 ,,,,„. ..<•!••. *»'«,«" 
 
 t~*iti$0j£*s&$ 
 
SHEFFIELD IN BLACK AND WHITE. 1 13 
 
 this part of my article. Tearing out this page, 
 I came to a nice, clean, white one underneath, 
 
 with only a spot here and there ; this brought 
 me back twelve years, and I here seemed to 
 
U4 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 see Sheffield as I saw it then, white with snow. 
 It was in the winter of '79, I think, that I first 
 visited the cradle of cutlery. I arrived on 
 Christmas Day, as a special artist for the 
 Illustrated London News. Although the town, 
 with its mantle of snow, was completely white, 
 
 things looked black. 
 The distress was terri- 
 ble, and I was brought 
 face to face with it in 
 my visits to the un- 
 employed, who looked 
 upon me with eyes of 
 suspicion, evidently 
 under the impression 
 that I was a bailiff 
 preparing for action. 
 It was, therefore, pleas- 
 
 ant to visit it again 
 
 under more prosperous 
 aspects ; and whoever 
 y a nowadays sees a pros- 
 I'jj perous - looking man 
 of the type I show in 
 my sketch here, of razor-like sharpness, with 
 bristly tufted chin, and heart of steel, may 
 " know that man, he cums fra' Sheffield." 
 
SHEFFIELD IN BLACK AND WHITE. 115 
 
 I do not refer to the thousand and one 
 wonderful manufacturing concerns of the town ; 
 a description of these is a futile subject in 
 itself. But during my brief visit I strolled out 
 to admire the beauties of Endcliff Wood, 
 which was given to the people as a memorial 
 of the Jubilee. All details can be gleaned 
 from an inscription upon a stone in the centre 
 of the park. And apropos of this stone, I may 
 remark that if the people of York have erected 
 a joke at the expense of their ex-Lord Mayor, 
 the people of Sheffield have, in their Jubilee 
 Stone, an unconscious joke at the expense of 
 a more august personage. 
 
Sheffield. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 When I arrived at the hall last evening I 
 found a gentleman waiting to interview me. He zvas 
 a broth of a boy from the Emerald Isle — one of those 
 poor innocent, ignorant men who spend their Saturday 
 pennies on buying the trash printed by the so-called 
 " National Press" to delude them. One of them might 
 well alter its title to " United Ignorance." I worft 
 charge the editor for this suggestion. The gentleman 
 in question arrived at the door of the hall armed with 
 his blackthorn, and a varied and extensive vocabulary 
 of epithets which had been applied to me in the pages 
 of " U. I. " from which he had culled them ; and while 
 he " waited for me" he harangued the crowd, and gave 
 them an entertainment they had not bargained for ; 
 but instead of the limelight he found the bull's-eye of 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 117 
 
 a policeman upon him, and he melted away like a dis- 
 solving view in the tender care of two burly Yorkshire 
 " bobbies." 
 
 The weather has been awful, and we have tvandered 
 
 from windozv to zvindow of the hotel in search of some 
 passing interest ; but all zve could see through the rain 
 -and the dense smoke was the cheering advertisement on 
 the walls, " Don't ivorry ; try Sunlight Soap ! " This 
 at first had a soothing effect upon us, and we lapsed 
 
Il8 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 into a more pJiilosopliic frame of mind ; but the con- 
 stantly recurring sight of " Don't worry ' ' had in time 
 a quite contrary effect, and by the end of the second day 
 we hated that advertisement with a most fervent 
 hatred. It is all very well to be told not to worry 
 when you are in a rather perturbed state of mind ; 
 but when you are quite at ease witJi yourself and every- 
 body else, and not t J linking of worrying about anybody 
 or anything, it is simply maddening ! 
 
 The natives, judging from their appearance, did 
 not pay very much heed to the injunction of the adver- 
 tisement, especially some ragged urchins who were 
 playing about the railings outside the hotel with a 
 lightheadedness only equalled by that of their contem- 
 poraries in Cockayne. 
 
 The Professor seemed quite surprised that we took 
 our walk out into the fresh and beautiful country, in- 
 stead of through the noisy streets. The town, with its 
 overhanging smoke and gloom, was much more con- 
 genial to him ; indeed, so dismal did the place look 
 when we were there, that I am astonished the people 
 are always so bright and pleasant. They are evidently 
 not influenced much by their surroundings. . . . 
 
 . . . The Professor waxed quite eloquent about 
 the town, and ivould have been a big success as an ora- 
 tor at the cutlers feast, with his similes about wise 
 
FLYING VISITS. 119 
 
 saws, double-edged remarks, hearts of steel, wrists of 
 iron, flashing blades, &c. ; and he seemed quite ag- 
 grieved when zv e told him that we had used up all those 
 metaphors during our visits to the various cutlery 
 works. Then he said : " Ah ! but I don't think you've 
 been through Messrs. Ruddigore, Morgue and Co.'s 
 place?" We said wed never even heard of them. 
 This seemed to both surprise and deliglit J dm, and he 
 replied : " Why, that's where they make surgical in- 
 struments, pig-stickers, and— and " (this with a fiend- 
 ish grin) " the knives for the guillotine ! " / went there 
 late at night specially to see them making those, and 
 the manager, Mr. Colde Shudderer, shozved me a 
 room full of ancient instruments of torture, from 
 thumb-screzvs down to the scissors they used to cut 
 criminals' ears off with. I haven t had such a treat 
 for years. . . . 
 
 Yo7irs, &c, 
 
THE HOME OF -YE PANTILES." 
 
 The Discoverer of the Waters— The Elixir of Life— Tunbridge 
 Wells as it was — Movable Dwellings — A Scene of Dev- 
 astation—Ye Pantiles of the Past— The Ancient Dis- 
 penser of Chalybeate — " Feyther's lookin' ! " — A 
 Second Edition of " The Jumping Frog." 
 
 INCE Dudley, Lord 
 North, we are in- 
 formed by the local 
 guide book, was " a 
 distinguished noble- 
 man and gay young 
 companion of Prince 
 Henry, the eldest son 
 of James I.," and 
 who first discovered 
 the waters that have 
 made Tunbridge 
 Wells famous, the 
 Kentish village has grown into one of the most 
 fashionable resorts in Great Britain. This gay 
 young sprig of nobility, we are told, had ruined 
 his constitution at the early age of twenty-four ; 
 so, like a bad boy, he was packed off into the 
 country, far away from his riotous companions. 
 
THE HOME OF " YE PANTILES:' 121 
 
 The chosen spot for the erring one's rustication 
 was Tunbridge. Passing through a wood while 
 out driving, he happened, naturally enough, to 
 feel thirsty, and his eager eyes catching sight 
 of a small bright stream running close to his 
 path, he alighted from his carriage for a closer 
 inspection. The chronicler does not say 
 that he drank any of the water, but merely 
 examined it, and, " fancying that it was 
 endowed with some medicinal properties, he 
 commanded his servants to bottle off some of 
 the water." This is proof positive that this 
 Lothario had at least one empty bottle in the 
 carriage with him. He took the specimen back 
 to London, and his physician declared it to be 
 medicinal water of inestimable value. He had, 
 indeed, discovered the elixir of life, for he 
 returned to the stream and drank of it for 
 three months, and this fortified him so that he 
 threw physic to the dogs, snapped his fingers 
 at the doctors ever afterward, lived a life of 
 gayety, and died at the advanced age of eighty- 
 five. We are told that the story of this mi- 
 raculous cure quickly spread. Now, had this 
 young Lord North lived in these days, he 
 would probably have made his fortune, with 
 the assistance of his groom and coachman, by 
 
122 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 bottling the whole stream up and taking out a 
 patent. Indeed, another noble lord on whose 
 estate medicinal springs were discovered, seems 
 to have had an eye for business, and made the 
 most of his discovery. I suppose his heirs are 
 still reaping the benefit in ground rents. I 
 doubt that now many of the visitors are here 
 for the purpose of drinking the waters, nor is 
 Tunbridge Wells the elysium for the jeunesse 
 doree that it was in those days when gamblers 
 played high at " basset," and morris-dancers 
 disported themselves on the bowling-green ; 
 nor does the modern Beau Nash drive down 
 in his sumptuous equipage, with six grays, out- 
 riders, footmen, and French horns. Nowadays 
 the elite travel down from town within the hour, 
 and in the quietest of broughams roll off to 
 their country houses, built in the substantial 
 style of the Victorian era. I say substantial, 
 because in the early days of this watering- 
 place, the cabins occupied by the visitors were 
 movable, and were carried on sledges from one 
 part of the common to the other. These 
 sledges would not be of very much use just at 
 present ; for at the time I am writing, the 
 country round about, owing to the deluge 
 during the late tremendous storm, is one vast 
 
THE HOME OF "YE PANTILES. 
 
 123 
 
 lake, the tops of trees and hedges alone sticking 
 up here and there to relieve the monotony of 
 this scene of devastation. I noticed several 
 carts on which hay had been placed to keep it 
 out of the wet, I suppose, before the flood had 
 attained its present dimensions, which were 
 
 ,V*i. 
 
 
 •a'*- ( '\- J , /ia r <"*''Z- :y f ■ %& r * 
 
 completely abandoned, and derelict were 
 drifting aimlessly about this inland sea. If 
 this sort of thing was of frequent occurrence 
 in the old days, I hope, for the sake of the 
 visitors, that their movable houses took the 
 shape of house-boats or bathing machines. 
 Johnson, Boswell, Miss Chudleigh, Judge 
 Jeffreys, and other wits, notabilities of the 
 
124 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 time, may not have been surprised at the sight 
 of their fellow-visitors travelling about in their 
 movable houses ; but they would be rather 
 
 lllb 
 
 6 W/% ^ 
 
 
 astonished, I should think, if they saw the 
 number of visitors who pour into the town 
 during the season from each of the numerous 
 trains that have made the Tunbridge Wells 
 stations very busy ones indeed. 
 
 Apropos of movable houses, the first thing 
 I saw on arriving at Tunbridge Wells was one 
 of those travelling dwelling-places on the road 
 by the common, one of those that Mr. Smith, 
 of Coalville, is always agitating about. But 
 if Boswell, Johnson, and their contemporaries 
 have long ceased to grace Tunbridge Wells 
 
THE HOME OF " YE PANTILES.' 
 
 L25 
 
 with their annual presence, the ancient nomen- 
 clature is still preserved in the case of " Ye 
 Pantiles ; " and as I sat sketching this pictu- 
 resque spot from the very coign of vantage that 
 so many artists have occupied before me, and 
 watching the figures flitting to and fro, the 
 men, even the aged ones, garbed in riding 
 
 dress or knickerbocker suits, and the fresh 
 young English girls in the graceful dress of 
 the present day, it struck me that allowing 
 for the romantic picturing of the chronicler, 
 
i ' , ; ; f ' 1 1 
 
 litlnlHwffl 
 
 ■■■. . 
 
 
 'iRliIW§ill; : 
 
THE HOME OF "YE PANTILES:' 
 
 127 
 
 there must be very little difference between 
 the pretty Pantiles of the past and those of 
 the present. As I was making my sketch by 
 the well, every now and then a drinker of the 
 waters would arrive. There is a room in the 
 corner of the Pantiles in which is seated a 
 pleasant - faced old lady, who 
 presides over the dispensation 
 of the medicinal waters ; above 
 
 her on the wall is a large photograph of a very 
 ancient lady, who for something like 80 years 
 (or was it 180 years ?) dosed the visitors with 
 the water from the Chalybeate spring ; among 
 
128 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 others, her daughter informed me, no less a 
 personage than Her Most Gracious Majesty. 
 When a customer arrives, this old lady trips 
 down a few stone steps, and takes a jug, which 
 she proudly shows you is perfectly yellow from 
 being continually dipped in the spring, fills a 
 glass, and you get this quantum of a very 
 pleasant and harmless non-intoxicating bever- 
 age for the small sum of one penny. During 
 the time I was at the well, I was amused to 
 find that three or four visitors were very much 
 disappointed because the water wasn't nasty 
 enough. I am afraid the good people of 
 Tunbridge Wells are too honest. Had I been 
 the purveyor of Chalybeate, and heard these 
 remarks, I would have immediately paid a visit 
 to the nearest chemist's, and have taken care 
 that the next inquisitive tourist should not find 
 fault with the water upon that score. 
 
 Every town has its " trade mark," so to 
 speak, either its Lover's Seat, or bottomless 
 well, or haunted oak ; and Tunbridge Wells is 
 not behind hand in this respect, for it has its 
 Toad Rock, its Parson's Head, and its Loaf 
 and Lion Rock. The observant tourist has, 
 I doubt not, been often amused at the fanciful 
 shapes and faces that rocks assume. A great 
 
THE HOME OF "YE PANTILES.' 
 
 129 
 
 many are famous for their grotesque but un- 
 doubted resemblances to human beings and 
 animals, and the rocks at Tunbridee Wells 
 are not lacking in this respect. 
 
 I observed a young couple about to meet 
 at a rendezvous, 
 which I suppose was 
 a lover's seat, or 
 something of that 
 kind, when a dis- 
 reputable urchin, a 
 young rustic hopeful 
 of the neighbor- 
 hood, rudely re- 
 marked : "Look 
 out there, mister, 
 feyther's lookin' ! ' 
 The seat was nest 
 
 ling 
 
 under 
 
 an 
 
 v er- 
 
 ha 
 
 ne i n or 
 
 roc 
 
 k , and 
 
 lool< 
 
 :ing up 
 
 at this I * 
 saw the stern 
 parent ; but as 
 
 countenance of the irate 
 " love is blind," according 
 
 to the old saying, I suppose the young 
 
130 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 couple did not notice it. But the Toad 
 Rock is one that each visitor feels him- 
 self or herself in duty bound to visit. This 
 lapidarian reptile has, we are told, been 
 upheaved from the bowels of the earth. 
 Perhaps, at some future date, there may be 
 another upheaval of the earth at this identical 
 fi spot that will 
 
 supply the toad 
 with the neces- 
 sary impetus he 
 has so lonor been 
 waiting for, and 
 may I be there 
 to witness this 
 second edition 
 -Jfc-Fi of " The Jump- 
 
 ing Frogf." 
 
 But whether it 
 be spring, sum- 
 mer, autumn, or 
 winter, even if 
 the visitors are 
 the anticipation of seeing 
 they will have had the 
 satisfaction of a sojourn in one of the 
 most healthy, bracing, fashionable, and 
 
 disappointed in 
 the toad jump, 
 
THE HOME OF " YE PANTILES:' 131 
 
 picturesque of health resorts to be found 
 anywhere. And the only place within reason- 
 able distance of London combining all these 
 desirable qualifications is undoubtedly Tun- 
 bridge Wells. 
 
Tunbridge Wells. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 Since writing you last I have been to 
 Brighton to give two performances. Yon will see 
 zvJiat sort of weather we had from my sketch of 
 " Breezy Brigliton " in " Punch" We were fortu- 
 nately in the good " Old Ship" which weathered the 
 storm capitally, and was splendidly provisioned. We 
 found plenty of amusement in looking out of the port- 
 holes and watching the people braving the elements, 
 and trying to tack round the corner of the street 
 against the gale ; and whenever I sazv an old gentle- 
 man bring up suddenly against a lamp-post, or take a 
 header into the arms of a fisherman, or grind his 
 nose against the curbstone, I fervently hoped he was 
 one of the directors of the Dome, as they refuse to 
 allozu any oxy-hydrogen light in the interior of this 
 
FLYING VISITS. 133 
 
 ancient edifice, so I couldnt give my entertainment 
 there. Gas as much as you like, in tzvo senses, but no 
 limelight. 
 
 I can quite believe that in the old days — say when 
 the Dome was built, and zvhen, figuratively speaking, 
 they used magic lanterns made out of old kettles, sup- 
 plied from gas in tissue-paper bags — tJiere zvas some 
 fear of an accident which might suddenly elevate the 
 building ; but you might just as well compare the old- 
 fashioned lanterns and gas bags with the elaborate 
 apparatus and strong gas cylinders in use nowadays, 
 as drazv a line between the cockleshells of penny steam- 
 boats on the Thames and the pick of the Transatlantic 
 liners — say the "Teutonic" or the "Majestic" — or an 
 old-fashioned boarding establishment zvitli the magnif- 
 icent Hotel Metropole at Brighton. This princely 
 hotel has a fine hall attached to it, and as, notwith- 
 standing their splendid surroundings, the management 
 are not afraid of the limelight, it zvas in this hall I 
 made my two appearances. 
 
 I think I noticed one of the directors of the Dome 
 sitting in the front rozv, and I zvas half inclined to 
 make a departure from my usual remarks, and intro- 
 duce the Lord High Executioner s solig from " The 
 Mikado " — "Pve got him on my list " — and, as Mr. 
 Gilbert suggests, L would " make the punishment fit 
 
134 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 the crime" and compel this director to act as the 
 weight on one of the old-fashioned gas bags with a 
 slow fuse attached to the mouth — the bags mouth, not 
 the director s. It is hardly necessary for me to say 
 that this proposition emanated from the Professor ; 
 but, seriously speaking, I think it is rather ridiculous 
 % s that an enter- 
 
 tainment like 
 mine should be 
 N prohibited in 
 * this more suit- 
 able building. I 
 feel very much 
 like blowing up 
 the committee, but this would in no way endanger the 
 safety of the building. . . . 
 
 . . / had two splendid audiences, as the report- 
 ers would say, carriages formed a line from the doors 
 right down to the Pier. I really ought to have given 
 the shozv on stilts, as the platform was only about a 
 foot high, so I don't think the people at tJie back could 
 see much more than the top of my head. Nozu here I 
 have a platform about the size of the floor of the 
 House of Commons, and I must admit that the aspect 
 of the hall in the evening reminded me very forcibly 
 of the House itself during the dinner hour. . . . 
 
FLYING VISITS. 1 35 
 
 The weather here is also bad. There was a little 
 sunshine this morning, and I took advantage of it to get 
 some sketches about the place. On my way out to the 
 Toad Rock I sazv some incidents worth recording, but 
 to my horror I found that I had come out without a 
 pencil! I was a good way from the town, and the 
 twigs on the trees were too damp to make charcoal of 
 even if I wasted a box of matches, so I zvas just on 
 the point of giving up my journey, when a small boy 
 hove in sight. I was prepared to give this urchin un- 
 told gold for a bit of pencil, so I interrogated him on 
 the subject. At first he shook his head; then he felt 
 in all his pockets. No result. Finally he made a 
 plunge into some mysterious aperture in the lining of 
 his coat, and I anxiously watched his hand gradually 
 travelling round in the direction of the opposite side 
 of his garment. Then he seized a corner of the lin- 
 ing, and a smile broke over his face. It was terribly 
 exciting. The smile developed into a grin : 
 I zvas saved! " Wait a minute, sir ; Fve 
 got it ! " and after sundry and manifold 
 grabs and jerks, he fished out an infinites- 
 imal stump of a lead pencil with about as 
 much exertion and apparent science as a dentist would 
 use in extracting a tooth. I threw him my purse (I 
 believe that is the correct way of rewarding anyone 
 
136 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 who has done you a service), and walked off tri- 
 umphantly with my treasure, a facsimile of which I 
 here present you with. . . . 
 
 We had not seen the Professor all day ; but coming 
 back from our zualk we observed a dark form emerge 
 stealtliily out of a railway tunnel. Sure enough it 
 was the. Professor, and his white 
 face looked ghastlier than ever 
 against the gloom inside. He 
 looked very surprised when I 
 asked him what he was trespass- 
 ing on the railway for. " Don't 
 you knoiv Vm a member of the 
 Corpsological Research Associa- 
 tion ? There zvas a man throivn 
 out of a raihvay-carriage window 
 in this tunnel on December the 
 18th, 186 ^. The train he was 
 throivn from was the 3.55 from 
 London, and, strange to say, his 
 body has never been discovered. 
 It is not the first afternoon I have spent here, risking 
 my life among the passing trains ; and to-day I have 
 used up twenty boxes of matches in my endeavor to 
 throw some light upon this dark subject, but this is 
 the only clue I have discovered Up to now" He opened 
 
FLYING VISITS. 1 37 
 
 his not e-book, and showed ns between two pages a hu- 
 man hair, which he had found sticking to the zvall of 
 the tunnel, and upon which he now reverently gazed, 
 conjuring up in his own mind the awful tragedy to 
 which this single hair bore mute testimony. We sub- 
 sequently discovered from the station-master that this 
 tunnel had only been built ten years ; but to this day 
 zve have never had the heart to tell the Professor so, 
 and the hair still remains among his most treasured 
 relics. . . . 
 
 Yours, &c, 
 
THE SHOW GARDEN OF ENGLAND. 
 
 A Big Exhibition; Side Shows extra — "Tolls, please!" — 
 Playing at Trains — Coach Touts — The Side Shows — 
 Pretty Totland Bay — A Dangerous Foundation — The 
 Flowers in the Garden. 
 
 HE Isle of Wight re- 
 joices in the title of the 
 " Garden of England," 
 but it has always struck me 
 as being more of a winter 
 Garden or a Summer 
 Garden— a garden in the 
 sense of a show place, an 
 exhibition with a lot of side 
 show attractions, for which 
 you are charged extra. Cross- 
 ing via Southampton, the 
 mulcting process begins the 
 moment you sight the Isle of 
 Wight steamer. You have no 
 sooner paid for and received your ticket than 
 you have to pay toll for the privilege of using 
 it, besides each separate item in your luggage 
 
THE SHOW GARDEN OF ENGLAND. 1 39 
 
 being' charged for. Landing at Ryde Pier, 
 you pass a barrier where you must deliver up 
 your ticket ; two yards farther on you are 
 stopped at a turnstile, the custodian of which 
 demands twopence toll for landing. I suppose 
 that if by this time your means were exhausted, 
 
 your person would be impounded between 
 these two toll gates until you were rescued 
 and bailed out by some chance friend or good 
 Samaritan passing by. Your luggage, for 
 which you have already paid before com- 
 mencing your voyage, is seized by the pier 
 officials, weighed with the accuracy of the 
 money scales in the Bank of England, and 
 
HO FLYING VISITS. 
 
 you are charged nearly the value of your 
 baggage for the privilege of taking it on to 
 the Island with you. Then you have either 
 the choice of walking the planks of the pier 
 to reach the shore, or still further attenuating 
 your purse by using the Electric Railway. If 
 you do not happen to be stopping at Ryde, 
 but are going on to some other part of the 
 island, you are at the mercy of one, if not all, 
 of the three pettifogging little railway com- 
 panies that work and prosper upon the few 
 square miles which constitute this pretty little 
 isle. 
 
 I have visited the Isle of Wight now pretty 
 regularly for some years, but I have never yet 
 been able to fathom the depths of mystery 
 which encompass the workings of the afore- 
 said diminutive railways. They have always 
 got little surprises in store for the unsuspecting 
 traveller. Being a golfer, I take a ticket from 
 Ryde to Bembridge, a distance of about five 
 miles. For this I pay something less than five 
 pounds ; but I am informed by a resident 
 who, having nothing else to do, after many 
 years of sojourn in the island, ultimately un- 
 ravelled a good deal of the profound and 
 mystical intricacies of the railway systems, 
 
THE SHOW GARDEN OF ENGLAND. 141 
 
 that if I booked from the next station, close 
 to, a first-class return to Bembridge would 
 cost me about threepence. I won't vouch for 
 the absolute accuracy of these figures, but 
 they will give you some idea of the eccen- 
 tricity which prevails on these miniature iron- 
 roads. Of one thine I am certain, and that 
 is, that these three companies, who have the 
 poor tourist at their mercy, are determined to 
 spite each other as much as possible, and this 
 they do at the expense and annoyance of the 
 traveller, as part of their game at railways is 
 to take special care that their trains shall not 
 form connections at the junctions with the 
 trains of the other lines ; and the isle will 
 never be patronized as it ought to be while 
 this state of affairs exists. Of course, this is 
 notorious ; and the first-class tourist is well 
 aware that a visit to the Isle of Wight is an 
 expensive undertaking. But it is hard for his 
 less affluent brethren to be tempted to cross 
 over by boat for a little over a shilling return 
 fare, and be charged, in addition, a penny for 
 leaving the mainland, twopence for landing 
 on the island, and the same on their return 
 journey — in all an extra sixpence is a con- 
 sideration for a working man. Had I space 
 
142 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 I could dilate still further upon the absurd 
 railway systems of the island, but it is only 
 W. S. Gilbert who can do justice to the 
 topsy-turvydom of the railway eccentricity 
 experienced by all who visit England's gar- 
 den. 
 
 You may notice on crossing from Souihsea 
 to Ryde certain individuals in horsey costumes 
 on the steamers. These are touts for the 
 
 coaches that ply on 
 the island (which no 
 doubt offer the best 
 means for sight- 
 seeing), resembling 
 the side-show men 
 at exhibitions calling 
 out : " This way for 
 the Vanishing Lady !" 
 " Step up here, and 
 see the Performing 
 Fleas ! " &c, or the 
 ^ *^^ touts outside cheap 
 
 photographers. They are not allowed to ply 
 their calling on the aristocratic soil of the 
 island, or on the steamers, so they must cross 
 over to the other side of the water, where they 
 dispose of the coach tickets to the excur- 
 
THE SHOW GARDEN OF ENGLAND. 143 
 
 sionists. Judging from the appearance of 
 the last coach I saw this season, I do not 
 think these solicitations can have had much 
 effect. 
 
 Now what has this Garden of England, as 
 
 an exhibition, to attract the tourist besides 
 the beauties that Dame Nature has bestowed 
 on it with such a lavish hand ? Carisbrooke 
 Castle, with its donkey doing penance on a 
 treadmill to bring up to the surface again the 
 candle the attendant lowers into the well ; a 
 Roman villa, a Poet Laureate, an Attorney- 
 General, and last, but not least, a Royal 
 residence. 
 
144 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 As far as sightseeing is concerned, Ryde 
 is undoubtedly the best place to make your 
 headquarters ; but to see the beautiful island 
 at its very best, you must wander over the 
 
 m fjL 
 
 IT' !^~ 
 
 cliffs by the Needles, where the air is most 
 invigorating and the scenery most romantic, 
 and you can get a bird's-eye view of pretty 
 Totland Bay, a charming little spot, which is, 
 to my mind, the beau-ideal of a quiet watering- 
 place. It is only to be known to be spoilt, so 
 I will not expose the secrets of its charms, 
 
THE SHOW GARDEN OF ENGLAND. 145 
 
 c^TJ 
 
 
 
 but selfishly, perhaps, keep them locked in 
 my own bosom. I do not wonder that Lord 
 Tennyson was roused against the railways 
 marring the 
 peaceful rural 
 solitude and 
 beauty of this 
 quiet spot with 
 their noise and 
 smoke and rattle 
 and bustle. 
 Quiet Totland 
 Bay certainly is, 
 as far as the 
 ordinary visitor 
 is concerned; 
 but this particu- 
 larly peaceful 
 place is a literal 
 hot-bed of all 
 the secret 
 modern appli- 
 ances for offence and defence, and if the 
 numerous electric wires which form a perfect 
 unseen network all over the place, and are 
 attached to the guns and concealed explosives, 
 happened to get entangled, Totland Bay and 
 
146 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 Shanklin, the 
 Ultima Thule 
 of the tennis- 
 player; San- 
 down, the happy 
 hunting- ground 
 of the burnt-cork 
 minstrel — each 
 bed, in fact, in 
 
 the Needles might 
 be suddenly and 
 expeditiously trans- 
 ported to Bourne- 
 mouth. 
 
 Cowes, the haven 
 of the yachtsman ; 
 Ventnor, the resort 
 of the invalid; 
 Bembridge, the 
 golfer's Paradise ; 
 
 
THE SHOW GARDEN OF ENGLAND. 1 47 
 
 this model garden has its own peculiar and 
 distinctive flower, some of which I endeavor 
 to depict by means of the budding maidens 
 
 in my sketches ; but in Ryde the assortment 
 is more varied, although the species most 
 prevalent are the nattta aristocraticus and the 
 toutes vulgaris. 
 

 So utJ isc a. 
 
 My dear M. } 
 
 Leaving- Tun bridge Wells, I had to make a 
 cross-country journey — cross in two senses of the word ; 
 for we had to change five times, which would perhaps 
 have been acceptable as giving a little diversity to the 
 monotony of travelling had I not, when on the point of 
 starting, received a telegram from my editor, telling 
 me to do a page drawing apropos of Lord Randolph 
 Churchill's terrible adventure with the seven lions in 
 South Africa, which to be in press in time for the 
 next issue would have to be in London that night. I 
 have a portable studio, about 3 feet by \\ feet, which 
 contains all my drawing materials, and when open 
 forms a desk, so that L can get to work the moment L 
 arrive at a hotel ; but I did not bargain for having 
 
FLYING VISITS. 149 
 
 to draw in the train, particularly when having to 
 change continually, however, I managed to do it by 
 putting in the faces when we stopped at a station and 
 the rest of the work as we rattled along. The only 
 part of it which came really easy to me was my de- 
 lineation of Lord Randolph and the lions trembling 
 with terror, zvhen I simply laid my pen on the draw- 
 ing and the jerking of the train over the points made 
 the points of the drawing. It was tiring zvork, and 
 I zv as only kept azvake by my drawing pen being vio- 
 lently jerked into my hand at frequent intervals ; and 
 yet art critics, who little know the difficulties which 
 we artists of the Press have sometimes to labor under, 
 criticise work done under these sort of circumstances 
 just the same as if it were done in peace and quiet 
 and the comfort of a sumptuous studio, although the 
 flattering remarks which I have just read about this 
 sketch of mine show me that it evidently didnt suffer 
 much from the peculiar circumstances under which it 
 was done. I began the drawing at Tunbridge Wells 
 at about 10. SO a.m., and it was on its way quite fin- 
 ished to town at Jf.30 from Southampton. I know this 
 will interest you, altJwugJi I shouldn't like the public 
 to know it ; but all the time I have been on tour I have 
 never allowed anything to interfere with my keeping 
 pace with my Press work. . . . 
 
i5o 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 . . . / gave a performance in Southampton, and 
 then crossed next morning to the Isle of Wight, after 
 being mulcted heavily for ourselves and our baggage. 
 Our voyage was uneventful, except that we passed two 
 sharks, which, from the price of living in " The Gar- 
 den of England" we put down to be a couple of the 
 
 hotel proprietors out for 
 a bathe. I suppose you 
 have seen my sketch in 
 " Punch " of the Isle of 
 Wight, which I did 
 from the window of the hotel I was stopping at in 
 Ryde, and which sadly agitated 
 such high dignitaries in the 
 kingdom as the Mayor and 
 Corporation of Ryde. On the 
 day of publication the Mayor 
 was so very much overcome that 
 
FLYING VISITS. 151 
 
 a new Mayor had to be elected on the spot, and the 
 Aldermen and Town Councillors were with difficulty 
 brought round by the aid of smelling salts and electric 
 shocks, the latter being administered gratuitously by 
 the electric railway on the Pier. The anathemas 
 heaped upon my unfortunate head zvere as extensive 
 and comprehensive as those showered upon the Jack- 
 daw of Rheims ; but after a serious and stormy dis- 
 cus siofi the authorities decided to drop the subject, 
 as the report says they did not wish to advertise 
 " Punch.'" Poor " Punch " / The veteran who has 
 just celebrated his jubilee will hide Ids diminished 
 head, and strike from the roll the name of the mis- 
 creant who had the audacity to warn the public at the 
 expense of the Mayor and Corporation of the town of 
 Rydel . . . 
 
 . . . Coming across, the Professor was buried 
 in a book (not in a sewn-up sail, as they usually 
 are at sea). It was Rudyard Kipling s latest — 
 " The Best Story in the World?" He was gloating 
 over the narration of the galley-slave' s sufferings, 
 and was particularly delighted by the author's vivid 
 description of their being cut up into little bits and 
 poked through the holes in the side of the vessel 
 made for the oars to go through. Although the Solent 
 was hardly the place to inspire one, as the author 
 
152 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 of " The Best Story in the World''' had been in- 
 spired, the Professor was quite carried away by the 
 revolting details, and it zvas wortJi a lot to see the look 
 of disgust zvJiicJi passed over Ids features what he was 
 brought back to everyday life by the demand for tolls 
 with whicJi we were pestered immediately zve landed 
 on the island. . . . 
 
 Yours, &c, 
 
EASTBOURNE AFTER THE 
 SEASON. 
 
 Good-by to the Holiday Makers — Splash Point — How the 
 Visitor Spends the Day — His Friend, the Waiter — The 
 Daily Papers — The Pavilion — The Manager's Enterprise 
 — Ladies on the Links — The Curse of Eastbourne — A 
 Fugitive. 
 
 Unfortunately I found myself at East- 
 bourne just as the season was over. The 
 grass on the tennis-lawns was an inch long, 
 and in place of the pretty faces that erstwhile 
 attracted the masculine gaze toward the 
 boarding-house windows, the observant visitor 
 might have noted sundry elderly visages peep- 
 ing out gloomily from behind the numerous 
 notices : " Apartments to Let." The itinerant 
 musician from Italy's sunny shores, the cheap- 
 jack of the sands, and the irrepressible niggers 
 had fled, like the swallows, to other climes. 
 The boats which, freighted with flannel-clad 
 youths and their inamorate, had flitted hither 
 and thither upon the placid surface of the sea 
 under the hot suns of July and August, were 
 now keel upward, snugly tucked in under the 
 parade, in close proximity to the regiment of 
 
154 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 bathing machines, which, pulled up side by 
 side, " were left till called for " next season, and 
 probably the bathing- - machine horse, as a 
 pleasant variation from his irksome summer 
 labor, was now let out to follow the harriers 
 across country at half-a-crown an hour. Not 
 that Eastbourne was completely empty, but 
 the holiday-makers had departed, although a 
 considerable number of health-seekers still 
 remained ; and when the sun shone for an 
 hour or so in the afternoon, the visitors, like 
 the buds it had caressed into blossoms in the 
 springtime, came out under the benign in- 
 fluence, and for a time the parade looked quite 
 lively. In the absence of the usual summer 
 beach attractions, Nature catered for the 
 amusement of the visitors, who seemed to 
 take a lively interest in watching the waves 
 which one after another, under the influence 
 of a strong southeasterly gale, were dashing 
 over " Splash Point," an enjoyment which 
 seems particularly dear to the English heart. 
 
 The daily programme of the visitor in a 
 seaside resort like this, late in the autumn, is 
 something like the following : — Have breakfast 
 an hour later than usual. Probably, at this 
 period of the year, you have the coffee-room 
 
EASTBOURNE AFTER THE SEASON 155 
 
 waiters in your hotel all to yourself, so an hour 
 can be taken up in discussing the visitors they 
 have during the season, or what is probably 
 more interesting, the few that remain. You 
 hear all about the old lady on the second floor, 
 
 who sees nobody, eats nothing, drinks nothing, 
 and never goes out, and, as the waiter expresses 
 it, she " pays through the nose " for everything ; 
 though as she eats nothing and drinks nothing, 
 it is a mystery to me why she is subjected to 
 this nasal-organ system of payment. Then 
 there is the eccentric old gentleman in number 
 
156 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 49, " something in the City," who has come 
 down to lay in a good stock of ozone wherewith 
 to combat the fog-fiend, but who nevertheless 
 spends all his time in the railway station, 
 watching the trains coming and o-oing, until the 
 time comes for him to take a first single for 
 London Bridge. Having exhausted the brief 
 list of visitors, the all-absorbing topic of the 
 Salvation Army is brought on the tapis, and after 
 you have fully discussed the pros and cons of 
 the case with your friend the waiter, you walk 
 up to the station to buy the London papers. 
 Having pocketed these, you go to the Reading- 
 room and peruse the very same papers which 
 are lying on the table there. This business 
 over, a stroll along the front as far as the Wish 
 Tower in search of an appetite, and back to 
 your hotel for lunch. This meal disposed of, 
 another peregrination to the Wish Tower to 
 aid digestion, and then off to the station to see 
 if the London evening papers have arrived. 
 They have, and have been sent to the Reading- 
 room ; so once more you bend your steps in 
 this direction, and peruse the news of the day. 
 By this time the approach of darkness intimates 
 that dinner-time is not far off, and soon you 
 are seated at the corner table in the large, 
 
i 5 8 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 dim, empty coffee-room, deserted by all save 
 the faithful waiter, who, having nothing else to 
 do, has also read the evening papers from be- 
 ginning to end, advertisements and all, and is 
 ready to enter into discussion with you upon 
 the various items of interest contained therein. 
 Dinner and debate over, our visitor would find 
 time hang very heavily on his hands but for 
 the amusements provided by the management 
 of Devonshire Park Pavilion, and the two 
 hours he can put in there will be the liveliest 
 of the day. Then comes the last item on the 
 programme, bed. This dose to be repeated 
 daily. 
 
 I happened to look in at the Pavilion just 
 as the courteous manager, 
 Mr. Stan den Triers, had 
 returned from London, 
 his countenance wreathed 
 with smiles, the cause of 
 which I was soon to learn. 
 "Next time you 
 come to Eastbourne, Mr 
 Furniss, you will see L 
 wonderful addition to the Park, for I've just 
 bought the P. and O. Pavilion at the Naval 
 Exhibition/' 
 
EASTBOURNE AFTER THE SEASON. 159 
 
 "Good Heavens!" I said, "are you pro- 
 moting a scheme for enlarging the pier, and 
 are the P. and O. Steamers to come and go 
 to and from the new Eastbourne Docks ? " 
 
 He had no time to reply, for he was off 
 again, this time, perhaps, to purchase the 
 
 Alexandra Palace for transportation to East- 
 bourne, wherein to hold an exhibition of white 
 elephants, or to make a bid for the tower which 
 is to out-Eiffel Eiffel, at the World's Fair at 
 Chicago. Should the visitor, however, be of 
 an athletic turn of mind, or rather of body, he 
 can skate on the rink under the Pavilion in the 
 
i6o 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 morning or afternoon to the lively strains of an 
 excellent band, and afterward have a refresh- 
 ing swim in the spacious baths across the 
 road ; or if a golfer, he can display his skill in 
 the august presence of the most genial of 
 champions and first-class exponent of the 
 game, Mr. Horace Hutchinson, who kindly 
 pioneered me over the links. When he saw 
 me at my worst I excused myself on the ground 
 that I could not keep my 
 eye on the ball in the 
 presence of such a redoubt- 
 able personage in the world 
 of golf; but the fact is, my 
 erring optic was continually 
 wandering to the links re- 
 served for golfers of the 
 gentler sex, whose cos- 
 tume, I may inform the fair 
 athletes, is anything but 
 attractive. Probably, in the 
 natural order of things, 
 being at the seaside they 
 designed a club-costume in 
 keeping with the place, 
 which strongly resembles a bathing - dress. 
 I may frankly say that ladies do not look 
 
EASTBOURNE AFTER THE SEASON. l6l 
 
 their best on golf-links, and if the neces- 
 sary attitudes do not allow of a very great 
 display of grace, the least they can do is to 
 counterbalance this by the charm of their 
 attire. I would suggest, with all due defer- 
 ence to feminine taste and fashions, that a 
 smart red jacket, a coquettish hat, and a dress 
 with some pretence to shape, would render the 
 presence of the ladies indispensable as orna- 
 ments to the links. 
 
 In the summertime tennis is a great feature 
 of Eastbourne, and the tournament in Devon- 
 shire Park is one of the prettiest sights of 
 athletic England. But it is not for tennis, or 
 golf, or any of the usual seaside attractions 
 that Eastbourne is becoming notorious. Every 
 topic of conversation pales before that of the 
 Salvation Army. 
 
 The Wish Tower is a turf-crowned eminence 
 at the west end of the Parade. The chosen 
 resort of loving couples, it is the scene of the 
 mildest of flirtations. Nurses with their peram- 
 bulators wheel their charges up and down the 
 gravelled walk, and little children who have 
 passed the perambulator period of their exist- 
 ence play merrily about upon the grass. It is 
 a perfect picture of peace ; but the rolling of 
 
1 62 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 the drum is heard in the distance, and the air is 
 rent by the discordant notes of brass instru- 
 ments and the jingle of tambourines, and 
 presently a motley crew approaches. The 
 white-faced, vacant-eyed, open-mouthed, un- 
 educated religionist is followed by the feeble, 
 
 totterino- imbecile, the 
 
 professional howlers of 
 the gutter, and a de- 
 tachment of half- 
 amused, half-sneering 
 camp-followers. This 
 is modern religion! 
 They take possession 
 of the peaceful stretch 
 of sward, the children 
 cease their games and 
 vanish terror-stricken, 
 the poor invalids ner- 
 vously make their way 
 indoors, and those who 
 are too ill to leave the 
 house writhe in agony in their chamber, 
 their nerves unstrung by the ear - splitting 
 din, and they are unable to get the rest 
 their state demands. This is the Salvation 
 Army, always the same, whether in the 
 
EASTBOURNE AFTER THE SEASON. 1 63 
 
 quiet London suburbs, the pretty inland 
 villages or the peaceful seaside ; but at East- 
 bourne we have not only a contrast to the 
 picture of peace, we have a veritable war. 
 When I was there the inhabitants had one of 
 their most sanguinary battles with " the Army ; " 
 the Citadel was stormed, the windows smashed, 
 and the riotous scenes that took place, already 
 graphically described in the papers, were a 
 disgrace to civilization. These professional 
 religionists had brought this upon their own 
 heads by declaring their intention of importing- 
 " converted " pugilists, who, with " Salvation " 
 across their chests and silver in their pockets, 
 were to give the townspeople " wot for " for 
 daring to protest against their town being 
 made obnoxious to themselves and to their 
 visitors, with the evident result of driving away 
 the latter from one of the most delightful 
 health resorts that grace our Southern shore. 
 Will cant and Barnumism win the day, 
 and will Eastbourne be forced to sink all its 
 interests and bow the knee to the " General " ? 
 Perhaps, then, the motley band will parade the 
 pier, or, happy thought, even surround it in 
 open boats. Willingly would most of the in- 
 habitants of Eastbourne provide the craft, if 
 
1 64 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 there was any prospect of a good strong breeze 
 rising which would carry the boats with their 
 crews far from their shores. At present the 
 pier is a safe retreat, and 1 was rather amused 
 to watch one visitor who had fled from the 
 turmoil, and sat, enveloped in his ulster, at the 
 end farthest from the shore. I dare say he 
 was pitying others less fortunate than himself, 
 who thus late in the season had come down to 
 the Sussex coast for peace and quietude, and 
 instead found themselves in the midst of a 
 modern edition of Dante's Inferno. 
 

 Eastbourne. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 I am too unnerved to write you h long letter 
 after witnessing Bedlam let loose, which just about 
 describes the Salvation Army disturbances here. I 
 can hardly join the Skeleton Army, as my figure is as 
 iinsuited for that as it is for the Life Guards ; but I 
 must say that I feel strongly for the poor policeman, 
 whose " life is not a happy one" and who gets knocked 
 about here during these riots for the benefit of the 
 British Barnum. 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
PINES AND PARSONS. 
 
 Why not Bradlaughmouth ? — Retired Warriors — The Bed- 
 room Brigade — A more apropos Statue — Church, Ser- 
 mons, and Curates — The Sanctity of the Winter Garden 
 Destroyed — A Sumptuous Hotel — The Valley of the 
 Bourne — An Awe-inspiring Fountain — The Invalids' 
 Walk— Sir William. 
 
 Bradlaugh and Bournemouth have not been 
 very closely associated, yet unconsciously 
 the people of Bournemouth, who are Churchy 
 in the strict sense of the word, have the statue 
 in their midst which I show in my sketch, 
 although they themselves are apparently un- 
 aware of the fact. In the very centre of the 
 town is a museum or art-gallery, or something 
 of that kind, in the garden attached to which 
 stands this statue, and it is probably the 
 untutored hand of the grand old sculptor, 
 Father Time, that has converted the features 
 of Wellington or Napier into those of the more 
 latter-day celebrity. Bournemouth is a new 
 place, and this work of art, to judge from the 
 marks of time upon it, was probably placed 
 there long before the hotels were built, the 
 pier thought of, or the health-restoring prop- 
 
PINES AND PARSONS. 
 
 167 
 
 erties of the place discovered. Why was it 
 not then rechristened Bradlaughmouth ? 
 
 It is very strange that 
 retired military men, whose 
 vocation in the earlier 
 portion of life was that of 
 killing their fellow-creatures, 
 should find it difficult, 
 when they have doffed 
 the red coat and 
 donned mufti, to kill 
 time. You generally 
 find them moping 
 about in Cathedral 
 cities, sampling the 
 vegetables in the green- 
 grocer's shop, bargain- 
 ing with the butcher, 
 or carrying home The 
 Times, which they have 
 obtained on the hire 
 system at the rate of 
 one penny per hour. 
 These remarks apply^^-J 
 to the un - invalided portion of the 
 whilom defenders of our country ; the 
 less robust you will usually find at watering- 
 
1 68 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 places such as Bournemouth. It is odd 
 that men who have seen so much of the 
 world in former days should be content 
 to vegetate as they do in after life. Perhaps 
 their minds become narrowed with their 
 incomes, and they go to the other extreme ; 
 perhaps, also, this is exemplified at no 
 place more than at Bournemouth. One day 
 I was asked by the doctor attending my 
 wife if I would like the " Bedroom Brigade " 
 to visit her. I at first thought that this was a 
 body of prettily-uniformed trained nurses, but 
 to my surprise I was informed that the Bed- 
 room Brigade of Bournemouth was a number 
 of retired military men who went from house 
 to house to sing hymns at the bedsides of 
 invalids. What I said on hearine this I will 
 not repeat, but I hinted that I might welcome 
 them with my riding-whip in one hand and 
 the garden-hose in the other. The Brigade 
 did not storm the castle I tenanted for the 
 winter. 
 
 One of the features of Bournemouth is that 
 the tide never ebbs or flows. This we are 
 told ; but I only know that when I have ridden 
 any distance along the sands, I have had to 
 return pretty sharply by the way I came, or 
 
PINES AND PARSONS. 
 
 169 
 
 via the cliffs, to avoid the incoming Waters. 
 But if the sea does not ebb or flow to any 
 great extent, there is a perpetual flood-tide of 
 humanity at the railway station, which is in- 
 creasing year by year. The railway has done 
 more to make Bournemouth than any enter- 
 prise on the part of the powers that be, and I 
 would recommend that the inhabitants should 
 remove the statue of Bradlaugh — much as the 
 memory of that excellent man deserves to be 
 perpetuated, even at Bournemouth — and put 
 up in place of it a statue of the Chairman of 
 the London and South- 
 Western Railway, or the 
 energetic manager, Mr. 
 Charles Scotter, who has 
 done so much to make 
 Bournemouth what it is. , 
 The people of Bourne- wLl \ 
 mouth may be classed WV 
 under two heads — doctors 
 and patients ; of course, 
 I am writing of Bournemouth as a wintering- 
 place, as it lays claim to be. Not being 
 myself an invalid, but, fortunately, rather 
 of a robust nature, I felt somewhat of an 
 intruder when I wintered there. The great 
 
I70 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 fault of Bournemouth is that there is no 
 place to go to but church, and nothing to 
 discuss but sermons, or the charms of the latest 
 curate. An antidote has been suggested 
 in the shape of a Winter Garden, in the centre 
 of the town, in which to bold concerts, &c, 
 but my experience of Bournemouth has been 
 that if anything of the sort were provided, the 
 management would have to provide the audi- 
 ences as well. If it comes to that, perhaps 
 Tussaud will do so. There is a charming 
 Winter Garden at Bournemouth, but, alas ! a 
 very good and respectable circus performed 
 there once ; religious hands were held up in 
 horror, eyes were uplifted, the sanctity of the 
 place was destroyed, the Garden has been left 
 to rack and ruin. I am rather surprised that 
 the banner of the Salvation Army does not 
 already float from the top. 
 
 There is no doubt about it that Bourne- 
 mouth is extremely prettily situated, and 
 perhaps I may be excused if my description of 
 its natural charms savors somewhat of the 
 familiar phraseology of the guide book. As 
 the visitor passes that beautiful little spot 
 Christchurch, en route to Bournemouth, he 
 lets the carriage window down so as to inhale 
 
PINES AND PARSONS. 171 
 
 the fragrant odor of the pine-trees, at the 
 risk of getting a cinder in his eye from the 
 engine, a sniff of the stoker's oil-rag, or the 
 spicy zephyrs from the Bournemouth gas- 
 works. Arriving at his destination, he is 
 politely escorted to the 'bus of the Bath Hotel, 
 and he soon finds himself in a veritable home 
 of luxury and a temple of Art. As he walks 
 through this museum of treasures he halts on 
 his way to his rooms, to renew acquaintance 
 with some celebrated Academy picture by a 
 modern master, whose work now hangs on the 
 walls of the hotel. In his rooms he finds art 
 treasures rich and rare around him, which are 
 soon described to him by his host, who is well' 
 known as a traveller, and is not the least 
 ornamental member of the Geographical 
 Society!" He must not leave this princely 
 hotel without paying a visit to its Japanese 
 museum, stocked with the rarest of treasures, 
 which Mr. Russell Cotes has collected and 
 brought home with him. 
 
 Passing through the spacious gardens, the 
 visitor finds himself on the East Cliff, with 
 the charming valley of the Bourne lying 
 stretched out at his feet. In parenthesis, I 
 may remark that this is suggestive of the 
 
172 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 chestnut that the " valet lay smiling before 
 him," for how a valley lies stretched at your 
 feet is a mystery wrapped in the imagination 
 of authors of ooiide books. 
 
 The valley is studded with houses of 
 
 *<*&> 
 
 singular artistic beauty, 'nestling as it were 
 among the foliage of -the health-restorative 
 fir-trees, and the silvery Bourne, softly mur- 
 muring in its pebbly bed as it meanders on its 
 seaward course, whispers a gentle protest to 
 the stones which bar its progress with their up- 
 raised head. Be it recorded, this gentlest and 
 most refined of rivers is swept out regularly 
 
JUNES AND PARSONS. 
 
 173 
 
 every morning with brooms, as carefully as the 
 rooms in the houses which are clotted alone on 
 either side of it. The strains of music lure 
 you to the centre of the town, and here you 
 can spend, many an hour in admiring the 
 beauties of the well-stocked and handsomely- 
 appointed establishments, and some days in 
 regretting that Shoolbred or Whiteley have 
 not established his business and his charges 
 in Bournemouth. Perhaps you may be a bit 
 ruffled in spirit after looking at your butcher's 
 or fishmonger's bill, so it is not only artistic 
 but diplomatic of the tradespeople to supply 
 gratuitous music to soothe their customers. 
 Walking through Dean Park, which is like a 
 corner of Hampstead Heath, you leave the 
 cemetery upon your right and strike into 
 
174 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 the woods. Should you do so from the 
 East side on horseback, as I have frequently 
 done, you may find that you can halloo till you 
 are hoarse, but you can't get out of the wood, 
 for the proprietor, who is kind enough to open 
 the gate at one end, closes the gate at the other ; 
 and if the lodge-keeper happens to have gone 
 shopping, or is having a siesta, you may find 
 yourself an hour or more late for dinner. But 
 then what more can you or your horse want to 
 sustain animation than the life-giving odor of 
 the pines ? Bournemouth must not be offended 
 
PINES AND PARSONS. 
 
 175 
 
 if it is termed a mushroom town, as it is only 
 sixty years old, and is still growing. And it 
 must not kill the goose that lays the golden 
 eggs ; in other words, it must not fell the trees 
 that bring the invalids' money into the town, 
 and it will take some time yet for the visitors 
 to discover that they can buy pine-oil in Ox- 
 ford Street, which, rubbed on their railings and 
 doorposts, would benefit them just the same. 
 Bournemouth is not altogether artificial. By 
 nature it is prettily situated, and according to 
 medical dicta is a heaven-sent haven for the 
 invalid. But Nature has been aided by Art. 
 Could anything be more beautiful, more artistic, 
 more awe-inspiring than this fountain in the 
 public gardens, which I have sketched on the 
 
176 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 spot ? But the name of the place in Bourne- 
 mouth is not altogether a misnomer. I refer 
 to the " Invalids' Walk," 
 where the invalid is 
 san d w i c h e d 
 
 between the 
 robust, and 
 where the 
 beauty, wealth 
 and fashion 
 most do con- 
 
 gregate. 
 Most 
 
 uide-book authors would probably 
 
 
 conclude with a list 
 o f distinguished 
 visitors who do 
 frequent, or have 
 frequented, the 
 place. T hey 
 would doubt- 
 less tell you that 
 Sir William 
 \ Harcourt 
 - *""" comes 
 £7" from his 
 Forest and sits 
 beamine under the Bournemouth firs ; and 
 
 country seat in the New 
 
SM^^s 
 
178 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 doubtless they would tell you that Lord Port- 
 arlington, the resident notability, is the moving 
 spirit of the place. This is true. 
 
 Doubtless they will also tell you something 
 about Bournemouth eulogistic of its moderate 
 charges, its many amusements and attractions, 
 and of its continual round of pleasure and 
 gayety. This is not true. 
 
Bournemouth. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 Arrived in bronchial Bournemouth this 
 afternoon. Rain coming down in torrents, so it is quite 
 appropriate that we should go to the Royal Bath 
 Hotel. It is kept by a genial Scotchman, not of the 
 name of Mackintosh, but Mr. Russell Cotes, F.R.G.S. 
 and C.B. (Commander of the Bath, of course !). 
 This princely hotel is not only gorgeous but comfort- 
 able, and Lika Joko felt at home at once among the 
 curiosities in the Japanese Museum; but you zvill 
 see what I say about it in my article in " Black and 
 Whiter . . . 
 
 . . . There was a theatre here once, but the 
 Bournemouth visitors would not enter one, so they did 
 away with the boxes and galleries, and now the build- 
 ing is known as the Town Hall. My experience of 
 Town Halls is that they are almost invariably dreary 
 
ISO FLYING VISITS. 
 
 and draughty. I could do nothing with my audience ; 
 in fact, the matinee I gave here this afternoon is the 
 only occasion I have made my appearance on the plat- 
 form amidst dead silence, or, to put it in theatrical 
 phraseology, " zvitJwut a hand?' Not a smile or a 
 laugh could I extract, and I felt that although I had 
 been a success everywhere else, it was impossible to be 
 humorous in such a place and with such an audience. 
 I ivastold beforeliand not to expect much, as my audi- 
 ence could not laugh, only having one lung between 
 three of tJicm ; but surely there would have been no 
 danger in indulging in a smile noiv and tJien, and 
 when I zvaxed eloquent, in giving me a hand. No, 
 they were as cold and chilly as the weather itself ; 
 and I zvas beginning to feel that I must sit down my- 
 self and turn the whole proceedings into a Quakers' 1 
 meeting, when a telegram was handed to me from the 
 wings. It came from Mr. John Aird, who knew I 
 was at Bournemouth that day, and was sent from the 
 House of Commons to tell me the sad news of the 
 death of the First Lord of the Treasury, Mr. IV. H. 
 Smith. I came forward, and, as the papers said, 
 " in a fczv touching and eloquent words " broke the 
 sad tidings to my audience. I flatter myself that 
 not one of the countless ministers who pervade Bourne- 
 mouth could have done it more sincerely or more 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 181 
 
 touchingly, and when I eulogized the late Le eider and 
 gave a short peroration instead of my usual humor- 
 ous remarks about htm, the audience zvoke up and be- 
 came quite enthusiastic. It was 
 the style of thing they were 
 accustomed to, and they felt at 
 last there was something to 
 appreciate — they had not alto- 
 gether wasted their sanctimoni- 
 ous afternoon. . . . 
 
 . . . I shall be glad to get 
 away from Bournemouth as soon 
 as possible. I shall have to 
 brave the wratJi of the Professor, 
 as the cemetery here is well-stocked, and he wont have 
 half enough time to "do" it thoroughly. . . . 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
Godalming. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 Just a line to tell yon that I pass through 
 town to-morrozv on my way north, and am looking 
 forward to having a chat with yon during my brief 
 breathing space in the city of cities. I promise you 
 faithfully that I will abstain from all mention of 
 the " Humours of Parliament " or the Professor : I 
 should tliink you have had enough of them by this 
 time. I feel it my incumbent duty to enliven the 
 monotony of touring every now and then by a prac- 
 tical joke, which I generally perpetrate at the expense 
 of Mac. We have just left an old-fasJiioned hotel at 
 Lewes, in which the Boots, as zvell as Mac, has been 
 my victim. On retiring at niglit, I fished out of my 
 boot-bag one boot out of each pair. There zvere five 
 different boots altogether, and these I placed carefully 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 183 
 
 hi a row outside my door. In the morning I zvas 
 azvoke by a muttering outside in the passage, and I 
 chuckled to myself at the discomfiture of the Boots. ' 
 When he had finisJied his soliloquy and gone his way 
 I opened the door ; there were the five boots cleaned, 
 
 all in a row. I rung the bell violently and said 
 there must be some mistake, all my boots were odd 
 ones. They were all for the right foot, and I told 
 them I wasn't an owner of a wooden leg. The poor 
 Boots was up a tree — a boot-tree, in fact — and could 
 only scratch his head. Then I opined that it must 
 have been my companion's mischievous humor, and 
 suggested that lie, the Boots, should find some means 
 
1 84 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 of retaliation ; so he selected a pair of my boots 
 which most resembled Mac's, and put them outside his 
 door, while I packed Macs away in my bag. I 
 walked off to the station as usual, and had really for- 
 gotten all about the incident, and the train zvas Just 
 about to start, when I found that the luggage had not 
 turned up. However, it arrived just in time, with 
 Mac I imping painfully along by the side, and high up 
 on the hill I could see the Boots convulsed with laugh- 
 ter, and pointing Mac out to an amused group of the 
 hotel servants. I suppose it was the feeling of a second 
 boyhood that prompted me to perpetrate this joke, as I 
 
 zvas on my way to 
 a public school — 
 Chart er house, to 
 wit — where I gave 
 m y entertainment 
 to an excellent and 
 appreciative audi- 
 ence of the boys and 
 their friends. At 
 the time of writing I am returning to town by the last 
 train, which insists upon stopping at every little out- 
 of-the-way station to take in milk-cans. I think there 
 is nothing so irritating in travelling as the clattering 
 and banging of milk-cans. I would rather travel in a 
 
 JM^ 1 
 
 
FLYING VISITS. 1 85 
 
 cattle-truck with the beasts themselves than on a train 
 which stops to take in their produce. It annoys me 
 so that I must leave everything till I see you and have 
 a chat with you over a cup of coffee, ivithout milk. 
 As when I am with you the subject of the Professor 
 is tabooed, I may tell you now that he is staying till 
 Monday at Lewes, where he is going to spend a happy 
 Sunday inspecting the jail, and he is going to have 
 the (to him) inestimable treat of sleeping all night 
 in the cell in which the murderer Lefroy spent his last 
 moments. 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
NOTES BY THE WAY, AND A 
 LOOK IN AT RIPON. 
 
 The Last Coach of the Season— The Old Style and the New— 
 The Black Country — A Modern Hades — Peaceful Ripon 
 — I Explore the Wrong Hotel — The Wail of the Nine 
 o'Clock Horn — The Facetious Producer thereof — " Old 
 Boots" — " Made in Germany" — Germans. English Wait- 
 ers — The Mayor's Procession — " We don't like London." 
 
 |OMING away from 
 the " Sunny South" 
 in a cold rain and 
 a biting- east wind, 
 wrapped in your 
 railway rugs, it is 
 enough to spoil your 
 romantic picturings 
 of the good old 
 days when you peer through 
 the wet window - pane oi 
 your comfortable railway 
 carriaee and see the last coach of the season, 
 passengerless, cheerlessly winding its way 
 through the muddy lanes, while the melan- 
 choly guard is winding his unmusical horn, 
 
 i IS 
 
 §¥ 
 
A LOOK IN AT RIPON. 
 
 1 8/ 
 
 and the weather-beaten driver emits a disdain- 
 ful grunt as the express rushes by. Probably 
 the old driver's thoughts, when he sees the 
 train swerve as it rattles noisily over the 
 points, turn to the remark which one of his 
 comrades is reported to have made when a 
 railway traveller remarked on the frequency 
 
 of coach accidents as compared with railway 
 casualties: "Yes," said the old-fashioned 
 Jehu, " when a coach turns over you are laid 
 nicely on the soft turf, and — there you are ! 
 but when there is a railway smash, where are 
 you f " 
 
 But had we not the iron horse, I suppose 
 we should not have that prosperous, if repul- 
 sive and unsightly, district known as the 
 Black Country, which stretches in all its 
 
1 88 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 grimy hideousness on either side of the rail- 
 way track as our train passes rapidly through 
 the Midlands, with chimneys pouring forth 
 volumes of dense smoke, engines panting, 
 furnaces roaring, hammers clanging, and 
 
 myriads of half-clad, smoke-begrimed men 
 toiling incessantly, looking to an unaccus- 
 tomed eye like a vast army of diabolical 
 fiends, as they pass to and fro in the lurid 
 light of this modern Hades. It is a sight to 
 make a Ruskin shudder, and a capitalist 
 smile. 
 
A LOOK IN AT RIP ON. 
 
 1 89 
 
 Having spent some weeks going over the 
 
 various centres of 
 industry in this bee- 
 hive of commerce, it 
 is a relief to find one- 
 self stranded in a 
 quiet old Cathe- 
 d r a 1 Town, 
 which has noth- 
 i n g modern 
 about it, where 
 the sound of the 
 coach - horn is 
 
 still heard, and the 
 shrill whistle of the 
 locomotive is kept at a 
 distance. Such a spot 
 is Ripon. The com- 
 mercial gentleman, 
 having found little busi- 
 ness doing in such a 
 place, looks gloomy, 
 as, seated on his sample 
 cases at the station, he awaits his train 
 
 and 
 
190 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 a young lady, in all probability the daughter 
 of one of the clergy who pervade the neigh- 
 borhood, is about to start for the metrop- 
 olis, to seek a wider field in which to earn, 
 perhaps, something more than her accustomed 
 bread-and-butter. 
 
 Perhaps nothing will demonstrate the 
 apathetic lethargy of Ripon more than an 
 incident which happened to me soon after I 
 arrived. There are two well-known old- 
 fashioned hotels next door but one to each 
 other, either of which would delight the heart 
 of an antiquarian ; so much alike that, after 
 a short walk, I returned to my hotel, as I 
 thought, walked upstairs, but couldn't for the 
 life of me find either my sitting-room or my 
 bedroom. There was not a soul to be seen, 
 and silence reigned supreme. I tried every 
 room in the house, rang bells, pocketed silver 
 spoons, broke into the larder, and was just in 
 the act of demolishing a rabbit-pie I found 
 there, when a horrible thought struck me 
 that the proprietor and servants had de- 
 camped with my luggage, after drugging my 
 luckless travelling companion. Nervously I 
 approached the huge grandfather's clock in the 
 hall, fully expecting to discover his lifeless body 
 
A LOOK IN AT RIP ON. 
 
 191 
 
 hidden in its interior, when the Town Crier 
 happened to pass, and I went to the door, think- 
 ing I might require his services, and there I dis- 
 covered I had come into the wrong hotel, so, with 
 a sigh of relief, I entered the right one, having 
 ransacked the other and never met a soul ! 
 
 I believe these excellent hostelries are 
 crammed in the summer time by tourists, a 
 great number of 
 them Ameri- '.*' 
 cans, who put fys//* 
 
 and thence 
 make pilgrim- 
 ages to Fountain 
 Abbey, Hackfall, 
 Newby Hall, and 
 other places of 
 interest abound- 
 ing in this neighborhood. The first night 
 I was in Ripon I had hardly finished dinner 
 when I heard a -most diabolical sound, 
 long drawn out and thrice repeated, like the 
 mournful wail of an asthmatical fog-horn. In 
 reply to my inquiry as to whence it came, my 
 good host informed me that this was a relic of 
 
192 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 the days of the curfew, and that the sound 
 emanated from a horn which was blown in the 
 market-place at nine o'clock every night. The 
 horn - blower was brought in, and, while I 
 was making a sketch of him, amused me by 
 telline me incidents that 
 had occurred during the 
 exercise of his profession. 
 On one occasion a tem- 
 
 r^ A^^i^^^^L^ ^""s perance preacher 
 
 asked to be allowed 
 to blow the horn. 
 He had a try, but 
 the result was a miserable 
 failure, upon which he asked 
 the horn-blower if he were 
 a teetotaller, to which our 
 friend replied emphatically, 
 " Naw ! " 
 
 " But then, my good 
 man," continued the orator, 
 " your soul will be con- 
 demned to eternal purgatory ! " 
 
 " Gaw on," said he of the powerful lungs. 
 " What dis Shaakespeare say ? Whoy, 'e that 
 drinketh sleepeth, and 'e that sleepeth com- 
 mitteth naw sin." 
 
A LOOK IN AT RIPON. 193 
 
 This completely stumped the temperance 
 man, and the horn-blower went on to tell us 
 that later on the preacher was fervently orating 
 on the evils of alcohol outside a public-house, 
 and that all the customers had come out to 
 listen to him. The proprietor, seeing this, 
 put a card in the window with the short and 
 concise notice on it, " Free beer within ! " and 
 in an instant the temperance enthusiast found 
 himself vehemently declaiming to airy nothing. 
 " And t' finish was that the temperance man 
 went int' t' pub himself," concludes the worthy 
 performer on the horn. 
 
 But how strange it is that in a place where 
 railways are kept at a distance, where the old 
 curfew still is sounded, where everything is 
 typical of slowness, inactivity, and antiquity, 
 where crood York ham and fine old English 
 ale gladden the heart and stomach of the 
 traveller, and in an inn, too, that is famous 
 all over the world for the strong personality of 
 its old " Boots," who was one of the curiosities 
 of the last century, that here, even here, you 
 
 find the German waiter. We all object 
 
 to cheap German importations, from German 
 toys to German beer, but I am not one of 
 those who object to the German waiter. I 
 
i 9 4 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 have always found him obliging, quiet, and 
 clean, in strong contrast to his more in- 
 attentive and not always polite English 
 coiifrere. This Old Boots that I mentioned 
 "has," to quote the inscription accompanying 
 an old portrait of him in the inn, " by nature 
 and habit, acquired the power of holding a 
 piece of money between his nose and chin." 
 But Old Boots has long since gone, and when 
 the German waiters follow his example, I 
 trust to see their places taken 
 by neat - handed and neatly - 
 /Jf^X dressed Phyllises, such as the 
 2.ilis^,\ one I show in my sketch, 
 
 but at present this is but 
 an ideal. Before leaving 
 the old place I was 
 lucky enough to witness the 
 quarterly procession of the 
 Mayor to the Cathedral, 
 which I suppose takes the 
 place of our metropolitan 
 Lord Mayor's Show. The 
 spectacle of the Mayor, 
 attended by a few policemen and ordinary- 
 looking gentlemen with fur-trimmed coats, 
 is satisfactory to Ripon, although a contrast to 
 
A LOOK IN AT RIPON. 
 
 195 
 
 the London cere 
 mony ; and 
 when the func- 
 tion is over the 
 Mayor walks 
 home to his 
 butcher's 
 shop, with the 
 mace - bearer 
 solemnly pac- 
 ing in front of 
 him, and next 
 day he puts on 
 
 striped apron again and 
 " weighs out at 5s. 4d." 
 
 As I am leaving on my way 
 
 to the commercial centres of 
 
 the North, I see a contrast 
 
 to the young lady and the 
 
 commercial gentleman 
 
 who were there when I 
 
 arrived, in the back 
 
 views of two Spaldings 
 
 waiting for the up train, 
 
 who probably before 
 
 long will be saying, "We 
 
 * don't like London." 
 
t ,vV 
 
 4* 
 
 / 
 
 r 
 
 Ripon. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 I find that Saturday evenings in large 
 tozvns, although they are good for tlieatrical business, 
 are not so for other entertainments ; so I generally find 
 myself shelved off to a comparatively small tozvu for 
 those nights, which mea?is being landed there for the 
 
 Sunday as well ; so 
 
 this c x p I a in s my 
 writing you nozv 
 from Ripon. . 
 
 . . . Until 
 I visited Cathedral 
 toivns it was always 
 a mystery to me that 
 a bishop should re- 
 ceive such a large 
 honorarium. The Bishop of Ripon receives £^00 
 
FLYING VISITS. 1 97 
 
 per annum, and I am not surprised to learn that it is not 
 often lie is seen in the place. I would not take tliree 
 times that amount and live in Ripon, if I had to 
 amuse or instruct the inhabitants, although the coun- 
 try round about is beautiful and suitable enough for a 
 quiet country life. It poured on Sunday, and al- 
 though ive found a little excitement in the morning in 
 watching the grooms from country houses in the neigh- 
 borhood dash up on horseback to the post-office oppo- 
 site for the letters ; when this subsided all ivas quiet, 
 and the dismal courtyard-looking square was left in 
 solitude until the time came to make preparations for 
 the great quarterly event — the procession in state of 
 the Mayor to the Cathedral, which I have described in 
 "Black and White," and which caused just about as 
 much excitement and crowd as the sight of a barrister 
 with his wig on in the street in the vicinity of the Law 
 Courts would do in London. In the evening the place 
 was as still as the Arctic Regions until we zuere 
 startled by the lugubrious wail of the nine o'clock 
 horn ; and I really believe that if the Sunday League 
 commenced operations Jiere they would only be sup- 
 ported by the horn-blower, one policeman, and Mary 
 fane, if it were her Sunday out. It is not so in the 
 " canny toon " of Nezvcastle, wJiicJi is our next move. 
 You will recollect my telling you what audiences I had 
 
198 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 there on Sunday evenings in the old Tyne Theatre ; 
 it zvas packed from floor to ceiling. . . . 
 
 . . . The Professor has a great contempt for the 
 old Boots who nsed to do duty at this hotel, andzvJiose 
 only qualification to have his name inscribed on the 
 scroll of fame was the fact of his being able to hold 
 a coin between his nose and chin. The Professor had 
 heard of or had known, or knew someone who had 
 heard of or had known, of a waiter who could bite bits 
 off his ears : a man who could stick a knitting-needle 
 through the calf of his leg, and who delighted in con- 
 verting his arms into pin-cushions ; and a Buttons 
 who fairly revelled in sandwiches made out of can- 
 dle-grease and slioc-blacking, washed down with 
 paraffin oil ! . . . 
 
 Yours, &c, 
 
MEMS. ON THE MERSEY. 
 
 A Cosmopolitan Spot— Landing Stage Dramas— Playing His 
 First Part— A Busy Watery Highway— The Ferries- 
 Business and Pleasure— Mr. Simpson— A Polar Picture— 
 A Suggestion to Dramatists. 
 
 All the world's a stage, truly, but the narrow 
 floating quay on the Mersey is a stage for all 
 the world. Innumerable types of humanity 
 from all parts stand upon it, and the observer 
 could not find a happier hunting ground for 
 the study of his fellow man. The busy man 
 of commerce rubs shoulder with the loafer ; 
 the sun-tanned sailor from the Southern seas 
 stands side by side with the intrepid explorer 
 of the Polar regions ; the hungry, hunted ne'er- 
 do-weel with eager, longing eyes watches tons 
 of splendid meat being rapidly landed, and as 
 rapidly carted away ; while the rich Colonial 
 throws his fragrant Havana languidly away, to 
 be quickly snatched up by the poor dog less 
 fortunate than himself. 
 
 There is many a touch of tragedy upon 
 that stage. Talk of free theatres! This is 
 the freest of all ! See that good-looking youth 
 
■+"*! 
 
MEMS. ON THE MERSEY. 201 
 
 quickly pass to the tender bound for the large 
 ocean steamer, which with steam up is signi- 
 fying with hoarse whistles its readiness to start ; 
 his clothes are neat and new, and his luggage 
 shows little mark of travel ; he nervously 
 shows histicket as he steps on to the gangway 
 of the boat ; a couple of ordinary-looking men 
 are standing close by ; he glances at them ; 
 their gaze is firm ; he winces ; one approaches 
 and hands him a paper ; the paddles begin to 
 revolve, and the tender steams off minus one 
 passenger ! A couple next attracts your atten- 
 tion — a youth even younger than the last, with 
 nothing of the clerk about him ; he is of aris- 
 tocratic mien, and on his arm has a pretty 
 young lady. He looks determined ; she pale 
 and anxious. As they board the next tender 
 his eyes are fixed on the steamer in the distance, 
 while hers are peering nervously around. Their 
 luggage on board, off they go ! The nervous 
 tension is relaxed, and with a sigh of heartfelt 
 relief she sinks down upon the seat ; he care- 
 lessly lights a cigar. They turn round and 
 face the landin^-sta^e as the tuof churns its 
 way through the thick water of the muddy 
 Mersey. 
 
 Suddenly she starts up and utters a fright- 
 
202 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 ened cry, he drops his cigar and mutters a 
 curse between his clenched teeth — a figure has 
 rushed on to the stage. The angry father is 
 quickly in pursuit upon another tug — it is the 
 old, old story ; indeed, there is very little new 
 material in this mixture of comedies and 
 tragedies in real life which is day by day 
 enacted on the Liverpool landing-stage, and 
 the bystanders are callous. But late at night 
 and early in the morning 
 may be noticed a youthful 
 actor playing his first part. 
 In all probability he has 
 been mingling with the 
 crowd all day, anxiously 
 waiting to seize the merest 
 chance of escape from the 
 chill poverty and distress 
 of his fatherland to those 
 sunny climes far away 
 across the sea, flowing 
 with milk and honey, 
 Elysian fields which have often passed in 
 ecstatic review through his juvenile brain. 
 Tired out and disappointed, he falls asleep 
 in a corner of the landing-stage, but is 
 awoke from the phantasy of his troubled 
 
MEMS. ON THE MERSEY. 
 
 203 
 
 dreams by a kindly official, one who has saved 
 many and many a lad from a fatal mistake, 
 and is frustrated in his foolish endeavor. 
 When I write my next article on Liverpool, I 
 will include a sketch both in pen and pencil of 
 this worthy, philanthropic man. 
 
 Perhaps no greater contrast could be found 
 to the Twickenham ferry of song than the 
 Liverpool ferry of everyday life. The ferry- 
 man of the Thames and his sweetheart would 
 be out of place in this busy liquid highway of 
 commerce. The ferries that ply on the Mersey 
 are a perfect army of watery conveyances. As 
 
 an illustration — were 
 you to take, for in- 
 stance, that busy whirl- 
 pool in the never-ending 
 
 
 r 
 
 a J- ' ■-. -—- 
 
204 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 stream of city traffic yclept " The Bank," when 
 there is a block of vehicles, and float it whole- 
 sale, that would convey to you some idea of the 
 deck of one of the goods ferries that ply on 
 the Mersey. They are ponderous, ungainly, 
 almost circular craft. 
 
 Alongside the stage the solid gangway is let 
 down ; and truly it may well be solid, for over 
 it pass brewers' drays, pantechnicon vans, and 
 butchers' carts, which, with hand-carts, bales 
 of goods, and other miscellaneous articles, help 
 to constitute a most varied and nondescript 
 deck cargo. Since the Mersey Tunnel was 
 opened busy men of commerce, to whom time 
 
MEMS. ON THE MERSEY 
 
 205 
 
 is money, speed along under the river instead 
 of skimming over its surface ; but when time 
 permits and the weather is fine, you may find 
 Cheeryble Brothers chatting over the day's 
 fluctuations in stocks and shares, and discuss- 
 ing the latest market quota- 
 tions in one corner of the 
 boat ; while I made a note 
 of a young lady, a Lanca- 
 shire lass of the better 
 class, who was evi- 
 dently seeking an 
 antidote to the close 
 atmosphere of the 
 city in the fresh river 
 breeze. For the 
 sum of sixpence 
 you can get a 
 fair sample of 
 this commodity 
 by taking a 
 return ticket to 
 New Brighton, 
 at the mouth of the river. Looking back at 
 the busy scene you are leaving as your boat 
 ploughs along down the river, it is most 
 curious to note the vast numbers of tugs, 
 
>o6 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 tenders, and ferries importantly puffing their 
 way about the river in all directions — it is a 
 gigantic, ever-changing kaleidoscope, not very 
 much varied in color, it is true, but active 
 in the extreme. 
 
 One feature of the landing-stage departed 
 some years ago in the person of Mr. Simpson, 
 whose temperance biiffet was so 
 well known. This eccentric in- 
 dividual might almost be classed 
 with Davy of Kingstown Har- 
 described in 
 letter, although 
 
 I — 
 
 Mr. Simpson was more aristocratic, and had 
 actually run for Parliament. However, he was 
 more at home on the landing-stage, feeding the 
 birds and smoking his cigar, than delivering 
 political harangues upon the platform. 
 
MEMS, ON THE MERSEY. 207 
 
 Even the very waters of the Mersey savor 
 of business ; there is nothing sluggish about 
 them, and taking their character from the 
 banks from which they roll, they hurry along 
 seaward as if time were precious to them. I 
 remember going down to Liverpool about ten 
 years ago, during that very severe winter, to 
 sketch the effects of the storm of snow and 
 ice, and I shall never forget the extraordinary 
 picture the Mersey then, presented. Snow- 
 bound ships, frozen boats, and huge masses of 
 floating ice, canopied over by a dull leaden sky, 
 combined to make up a scene worthy of the 
 Polar regions, and the worthy Mr. Simpson I 
 mentioned before was busier than ever, trying 
 to keep the poor weather-beaten birds alive. 
 In the principal thoroughfare of the town itself 
 stood a roofless house undergoing repairs. 
 Icicles hung from the top of the building down 
 to the ground, from every rafter and ever 
 projection ; and some enterprising speculator 
 had hit upon the happy idea of allowing the 
 British public to go in at so much a head to 
 view this curiosity of Nature. Paradoxical as 
 it may seem, this show was not a frost. 
 
 But, as I said before, the centre of interest 
 on the Mersey is the landing-stage, and I 
 
208 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 rather wonder that Mr. Pinero or Mr. Henry 
 Arthur Jones has never taken this stage for his 
 own. They could bring in well-known people 
 of to-day, which seems to be becoming the 
 fashion in present-day drama. The Lyceum 
 company starting for America, surrounded by 
 their friends ; Mr. Terriss jumping into the 
 chill waters of the Mersey to save one more 
 life, in his usual melodramatic fashion ; Mr. 
 Wyndham, ever thirsting for sensation, follow- 
 ing the steamer in a canoe, capsizing in mid- 
 stream, and saving himself .by means of the 
 patent Criterion safety-belt — which, when 
 collapsed, resembles a German dictionary ; 
 and they must not forget to introduce Mr. 
 Beerbohm Tree, and our old friend Mr. Toole. 
 Of course, several politicians might be brought 
 in, and Major Pond might be chaperoning 
 someone of light and learning to the land of 
 the brave and the free. As for singers, I have 
 more than once met the genial Mr. Edward 
 Lloyd upon the landing-stage ; and if Mr. 
 Pinero or Mr. Jones wants to fill up a corner, 
 I am open to stand there, notebook in hand, 
 to sketch these notabilities. 
 
Liverpool. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 In rummaging among my papers I came 
 across the folloiving, which I intended for publication 
 as an article, and I send it to you to show you what 
 a complete transformation has been effected in six 
 months' time. 
 
 " 1 arrived in one of the largest toivns in England 
 for the purpose of giving my entertainment ; and de- 
 clining the hospitality of friends, as I had a great 
 deal of work to do, I engaged rooms at the leading 
 hotel, an establishment as well known to the traveller 
 in the provinces as is Westminster Abbey or the 
 Tozver to the cockney born and bred. Every tiling 
 connected with it was old and crusted, and thoroughly 
 1 English, you know? The same hall-porter had 
 opened the door to our fathers, and guided them to 
 bed in the small hours of the morning ; the same Jiead- 
 chambermaid had heard the strong language with 
 
210 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 which they used to relieve their feelings when the but- 
 ton at the back of their collar few off, and she it was 
 who was requisitioned to sew anotlicr on for them. 
 Aye, some of the old port and Chateau Lafitte still re- 
 main in the cellars, and the lie ad-waiter brings it to 
 you in the same zvicker cradle wherein he had con- 
 veyed many a bottle to your father, and with the same 
 scientific care ; but the hand is now enfeebled that 
 pours out the liquid link wliicJi connects the past with 
 the present.'" 
 
 As I ran up the steps of the hotel old John opened 
 the door to me, but the welcoming smile zvith which 
 he was wont to greet me was absent from his counte- 
 nance, and in place of it he wore an air of deep and 
 unwonted gravity, which betokened something wrong. 
 Immediately following me came a small party of 
 A mericans, and in the go-ahead style peculiar to their 
 race they very soon monopolized old John. 
 
 "And Jioivs Jolin — fit, eh? Now, John, fetch 
 doivn the old lady from the first-floor right quick ; I 
 want her to know my zvife straight away. She knows 
 all about Maggie, I guess ! " 
 
 " Sorry to say she Jiaint "ere no more, sir," replies 
 John, sadly. 
 
 " What ? You don't say Mag's joined the major- 
 ity ? Pve been lookiii forward to shakiri the old gal 
 by the hand ! " 
 
 " She's joined the majority of the rest of the hotel 
 
FLYING VISITS. 211 
 
 servants, sir" pathetically whispered John. " We're 
 all going — I leave to-night. Place been bought by 
 railway company ; clean sweep from top to bottom ; 
 furniture all to be sold ; and hall of Jius goes as 
 well ! " 
 
 " Well, I'm darned ! It's a tarnation shame ! I 
 don't want new faces and new furniture to this hotel ; 
 I zvant the old smiles and old friends ! Here's a dol- 
 lar for you, Jollity and good luck to you. I reckon we'll 
 go over the way ; " and with a sad longing look at the 
 old door, the Yankee departed with his friends. 
 
 I went in. 
 
 " Hang it ! What in the name of creation's 
 that ? " 
 
 That was a considerable quantity of cement and dust 
 which had descended 011 my head. 
 
 " Werry sorry, sir" came apparently from a pair 
 of feet on a ladder over my head ; " I'm removing the 
 old sign." 
 
 '''And put up a tablet to the old hands" I said, 
 passing on to the office. 
 
 I found I was in a hotel that was in process of 
 transformation. I could not go elsewhere, as I had 
 made my appointments and had given the name of 
 the hotel as my address to my numerous correspond- 
 ents ; but I shall never forgive myself for not follow- 
 ing the example of the Yankee in taking rooms some- 
 where else. 
 
212 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 " This way, sir ; the staircase is under repairs, so 
 we must use the servants' 1 stairs." 
 
 I slipped, stumbled, and fell over bricks, piles of 
 mortar, and disjointed doors ; and I zvas just enter- 
 ing the room pointed out to me as mine when I found 
 myself caught by the neck and nearly strangled. My 
 unseen assassin turned out to be one of the bell zvires 
 which were hanging down across the threshold. I 
 had to make a perilous journey to my bedroom ; but 
 once I zvas inside it, I found I couldn't get out. The 
 builders had erected a barricade outside the door, and 
 were vigorously banging at the walls, so that my ap- 
 pealing voice zvas drowned, and I thought that every 
 minute the zvalls would collapse. . I at last managed 
 to crawl out through the ladders, and eventually got 
 to work in my sitting-room. As the evening closed in 
 the place seemed like a Jiauntcd hotel. The mysteri- 
 ous noises in the zvalls and the hollozvuess of the 
 echoes were trying to one's nerves after a long rail- 
 way journey, particularly to one engaged on imagina- 
 tive zvork. Hozvever, I went on undisturbed until a 
 cold something or other tickled me on the top of my 
 head, and then seemed to run all dozvn my spine. 
 Horrorstruck, I started tip, when to my relief I found 
 it zvas a zvire which was dangling dozvn from a hole 
 in the ceiling. At that moment the door opened, and 
 a man peeped in and said: "Excuse me, sir, but 
 we're getting the electric light zvires in here.'" 1 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 213 
 
 
 had received the first shock already. The next morn- 
 ing, while peaceably at work in the same room, in 
 walked a dumpy gentleman in a thick overcoat and 
 muddy boots, follozved by another man holding a 
 note-book and pencil i7i his hand. "An arrest," 
 thought I ; " mistaken identity ! " Shock No. 2. 
 My fears proved to be groundless, and I was relieved 
 to hear that they were 
 only making an inven- 
 tory of the contents of 
 the room. The dumpy 
 gentleman in the thick 
 coat and mtiddy boots 
 measured some of the 
 things, rapped others, 
 pommelled the rest^ 
 and sneered at all, &"- '^**** Onrush 
 while tlie other gentleman wrote down the report. I 
 was simply petrified to see that they included my goods 
 and chattels in the inventory ; and when the dumpy 
 gentleman in the thick coat and muddy boots cast his 
 eagle eye upon me, I fully expected to hear him say, 
 " One stuffed figure, 5 feet 2-J inches high, well stuffed, 
 little worn on the top of the head, modern design, 
 value trivial ! " 
 
 " Table d'hote was served on the staircase, and we 
 had to use the kitchen as a smoking-room. . . ." 
 
 However, I think this is enough to shozv you the 
 
214 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 topsy-turvy dom I was in the midst of. I am writing 
 now from this identical hotel ; but when I arrived I 
 received shock No. 3 — the transformation was so mar- 
 vellous and so complete. As everything was dull, 
 gloomy, rough-and-ready looking in the old days, so it 
 is the acme of modern luxury and convenience now — 
 a hotel a Sybarite would feel at home in, and which 
 must be seen to be believed. The vulgar ringing of 
 bells is done away with, and in its stead hangs by 
 every bedstead the latest patent in telephones, the only 
 drazvback to which is the fact that you cannot escape 
 from anyone who wants to ring you up, a?td who is 
 switched on to you from the hotel office ; in fact I 
 was woke up at six o'clock this morning to hear the 
 fearful news that there had been a big fire at the 
 docks, and that fourteen men had been burnt alive. 
 Need I say that the Professor was at the other end of 
 the wire t . . . 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
-THE GRANITE CITY." 
 
 My First and Last Haggis— The Granite— Noises by Day and 
 Night — The Tintinnabulation of the Bells— Festivities in 
 connection therewith — My Banquet — My Host — The 
 Scotch Humorist—" Auld Lang Syne," and the Effects 
 it Produces — " Linked Arms, Long Drawn Out." 
 
 SHOULD like to 
 be a little more 
 personal in this 
 letter " On Tour" 
 than I have 
 been in those 
 preceding the 
 present, and 
 £*? in doing so 
 J dwell upon 
 f^l the great hos- 
 pitality of the 
 Scotch people. 
 Before you 
 cross the border, invitations and letters of 
 welcome reach you in shoals from all 
 sides ; but unfortunately the chief object 
 of my tour, that of entertaining the public, 
 prevents my allowing myself to be enter- 
 
216 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 tained by them, except upon rare occa- 
 sions. I had not been in Edinburgh many 
 hours before I was introduced to my first 
 haggis, but, alas ! my English palate had not 
 been educated to appreciate a dish so savory ; 
 indeed, to be frank, I relished it as little as a 
 teetotaller would have done the whiskey which, 
 in obedience to the Scotch mandates apper- 
 taining to the haggis, must immediately follow 
 it. Business men threw down their office 
 pens, and, arming themselves with their 
 favorite golf-clubs, they escorted me to the 
 links ; in fact, all seem to vie with each other 
 in showering hospitality and kindness upon 
 the stranger. 
 
 The furthermost point I reached was 
 Aberdeen, " The Granite City," the sketch of 
 which accompanying this article was made 
 from the window of my apartment in the 
 hotel, in which room I was unfortunately con- 
 fined, as a visitation for being in the fashion 
 as far as contracting a bad cold is concerned. 
 The " Granite City" is well named, for it 
 looks as if the well-proportioned buildings 
 had been hewn out of one solid mass of stone. 
 To complete the picture, the masons were 
 hard at work remodelling the street ; and long 
 
21 8 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 lorries would pass my window at intervals, 
 each freighted with a heavy load of granite. 
 To be shut up in an hotel on a damp day is 
 hardly what one would select as the acme of 
 enjoyment, and your pleasure is not greatly 
 increased when your view is that of a railway, 
 with its shrieking and whistling, and shunting 
 and grunting, and puffing and blowing, always 
 depressing, no matter whether you happen to 
 be in the Granite City of the North, the busy 
 midland centres, or the great metropolis itself. 
 But the noises in the day time were nothing 
 to those at night. Oh, those bells ! those 
 bells ! When one lives in a town for any 
 time, one gets accustomed to the local mid- 
 night peals, and it is well known that the 
 townsman who goes to the country cannot 
 sleep at first because he misses the nocturnal 
 melodies which were wont to smite his ear; 
 but the traveller, passing rapidly from one 
 town to another, does not get a chance of 
 becoming acquainted with the various terrors 
 of midnight bell-ringing in store for him. 
 
 At Aberdeen I had retired to the warmth 
 of my sitting-room to nurse my cold, as soon 
 as I returned from my nightly exertions on the 
 platform, when I heard the first specimen of 
 
11 THE GRANITE CITY:' 219 
 
 the chimes with which I had to contend during- 
 the still watches of the night. I was about to 
 write a treatise on the evils of bell-ringing, 
 when from the floor below arose strange 
 sounds of Gaelic music, singing, and jingling 
 of glasses. On inquiry I was informed that 
 the festivities were in honor of the Belgian 
 bellringers. The waiter seemed very much 
 surprised that this information did not at once 
 convey to me all the explanation necessary, 
 but by dint of further questioning I elicited 
 the facts of the case. It appears that some 
 bells the Aberdonians had purchased from 
 Belgium did not meet with their unanimous 
 approval. Their most expert bellringers were 
 powerless to produce the proper tones, so the 
 Aberdonians had two Belgian bellringers 
 across to see what they could do with them. 
 They executed fantasias on them with ease ; 
 but even then the townspeople were not con- 
 vinced that the bells were sound. However, 
 whatever the ultimate upshot of it all was I 
 don't know, but I do know that these sounds 
 of revelry by night which proceeded from the 
 floor underneath mine were the result of a 
 banquet given to these gentlemen on their 
 departure. 
 
220 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 Wnr; 
 
 I had no opportunity of sallying forth in 
 search of the necessary "copy" wherewith to 
 fill my allotted weekly space, so I must leave 
 the granite of the city alone, and limit myself 
 to dealing with the hospitality of the people. 
 
 I was particularly honored in this city of 
 the far North by a banquet given to me by the 
 members of the Pen and 
 Pencil Club. Now we have 
 every week in the illustrated 
 papers banquets of this 
 character described and 
 sketched from the special 
 artist's point of 
 view, who illus- 
 trates the event 
 as he would a 
 scene in a new 
 play ; but as the 
 actor sees very 
 differently, and 
 feels very differ- 
 ently, from the 
 audience, so do 
 the banqueters 
 view the event 
 from a different standpoint to the ba?iquetee ; 
 
THE GRANITE CITY: 
 
 221 
 
 at least, this is what has always struck me 
 in my rather varied experience of this sort 
 of thing. It was particularly interesting to 
 me to be received in truly Scotch fashion, 
 and my sketches are framed partly on 
 what I actually experienced and partly on 
 what I dreamt after the banquet. The noble 
 chieftain, the chairman of the evening, who 
 received me, had an overawing- effect, being as 
 he was of large proportions and clad in his 
 national costume, which was an agreeable 
 change from the conventional dinner dress. 
 
 The after - dinner 
 routine differed from 
 that of most other 
 
 gatherings of a ^\( 
 similar nature, inter- / I \ 
 spersed as it was with /^ 
 singing and recita- 
 tions ; and although 
 no doubt the Scotch 
 humorist was excru- 
 ciatingly funny, yet 
 the guest of the 
 evening was not 
 happy, for he knew that the time was drawing 
 near when he would have to interrupt the 
 
222 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 harmony with his more or less musical voice 
 upraised in speech, and the climax of his 
 discomfort was reached when the chairman 
 rapped the table, rose to his legs, and, in 
 
 
 JIJJ ' 
 
 f jri 4 
 
 eulogistic words, ascribed to the guest mani- 
 fold virtues which he had been hitherto 
 unaware that he possessed, and proceeded 
 to read the poetic outpourings of an 
 Aberdonian Tennyson ; after which followed 
 more songs and recitations. No banquet, 
 supper, dinner, or any festivity on this side of 
 
THE GRANITE CITY." 
 
 223 
 
 the Tweed would be complete unless it was 
 brought to a conclusion by the singing of 
 
 45* 
 
 " Auld Lang Syne" ; and for one rather broad 
 in proportion to his height, it is rather a 
 difficult matter to make his arms stretch 
 
 across his chest so as he can grasp his neigh- 
 bors' hands. My first experience of this 
 
224 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 r/^t(\ 
 
 ordeal was at a banquet given to Mr. Henry 
 Irving in Glasgow, where it must have been 
 ludicrous in the extreme to see me linked 
 between the tall form of Mr. Irving and the 
 burly figure of Colonel Cody, better known as 
 
 -Buffalo Bill." I am 
 quite positive no artist 
 could do justice to the 
 feelings of one un- 
 -jj accustomed to the limb- 
 %? stretching proceeding, 
 <-| and my dream of the 
 after-effects was some- 
 thing like the sketch I 
 give you here, " Linked 
 arms, long drawn out ! " 
 However, I am de- 
 lighted in spirit and 
 -rf= ^ none the worse in the 
 
 flesh for my most pleasant sojourn in the 
 home of hospitality, the " Land o' Cakes." 
 
w 
 
 Aberdeen, 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 I advise you to eschezv all marmalade for 
 some time to come, as I have just left Dundee in the 
 terrible clutches of Id. grippe. // is a perfect plague ; 
 and if you want to be " up to snuff " while travelling 
 in these infected districts, my advice is, take it. 
 Snuff taking is a horrible and atrocious habit no 
 doubt, hit a celebrated medical ma?i proved to me that 
 it is the greatest enemy to the influenza ; and I am 
 glad to say that with the aid of this prescription we 
 have sneezed at eucalyptus and quinine, a?id have 
 safely braved the dangers which beset the home of 
 marmalade. There is a perfect panic in the town, 
 which is fatal to all entertainments, fust fancy, 
 Padcreivski was advised not to go there to fulfil his 
 engagement, as no one would venture out to hear him, 
 so he went to St. Andrew s instead. His hair would 
 
226 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 have stood on cud more than eve?- if lie had ventured, 
 as I did, into " Bonny Dundee" which for the time 
 being is a perfect hospital ; in fact one of the papers 
 advised people to go to my show in ambulances if they 
 
 were unable to get there any 
 other way. 
 
 I have got such a wretched 
 cold that I did not feel at 
 all equal to the compli- 
 ment paid me by the worthy 
 Aberdouiaus, who to-niglit 
 gave a banquet in my Iwnor. 
 It was a great success, but 
 I wasn't. It has always been 
 my custom to speak extem- 
 pore ; but a few nights ago 
 I was sitting next to Irving at a banquet given to 
 him in Glasgow, and I noticed that, with Jus usual 
 artistic finish and tact, he read his speech, and deliv- 
 ered it in that graceful way peculiarly his own, so I 
 thought that I would imitate him as far as reading 
 my speech went ; but I shall never do so again, as I 
 felt constrained, and not at all at home as I usually 
 do. But don't you think it was enough to unnerve any- 
 one, having to reply after such flattering verses as the 
 following had been recited, particularly after giving 
 my entertainment two nights running on the top of a 
 severe cold? — 
 
FLYING VISITS. 22^ 
 
 " My fellow -sinners, we are met to-night 
 To honor one — a bright and shining light — 
 Known through the universe as o?ie zuho wields 
 A clever pencil in the comic fields ; 
 One who portrays, with hand both deft and swift, 
 * The Humours of Parliament ' — a gift, 
 No matter where we look or where we turn, is 
 The gift of none but genial Harry Furniss. 
 
 " Some think the Sketchist's duty of to-day 
 Is beer and skittles, with a lot of play, 
 And that cartoons and co??iic sketches are 
 Flashed off precisely like a shooting star; 
 That comic sketch is Is daily they hob-nob 
 With fun, imagining that such a job 
 The happiest' s that's found below the sun, 
 When 'tis in truth a melancholy one. 
 
 " To sketch cartoons within a given time, 
 To blend the funny with the grand sublime, 
 To place our statesmen in all forms a?id shapes, 
 
 As jockeys, lions, elephants, and apes, 
 
 A nd still to make their countenances true, 
 
 Is not a very easy thing to do; 
 To tackle the ideas of another, 
 
 Perhaps be called upon to slate a brother ; 
 
 u To sketch one 's friends in every situation 
 Is not the most delightful occupation ; 
 But genius does accoi?iplish such an e7id — 
 That genius is, I think, our guest and friena. 
 Though aye in ' Punch,' he doesn't ' toady' to 
 Great Britain's lights, but gives each one his ' dew* 
 And with our statesmen weekly plays ' old Harry,* 
 But of all insults is ' chary — very ! ' 
 
228 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 " And even when he limns the great Greek scholar, 
 He draws, but raises not, old Gladstones 'cholerJ' 
 To beard the British Lions bad, of course, 
 But ' bearding ' Randy is a trifle worse ! 
 Still this is done by * Punch's ' deft own hand, 
 Creating laughter all throughout the land ; 
 As people gaze upon his figures, marry, 
 They bless the name of ' Parliamentary Harry ' / " 
 
 . . . As a matter of fact, it was that awful 
 Professor who was the cause of my cold. Going over the 
 
 Tar Bridge 
 
 ? out of the 
 
 window to 
 sec the scene 
 of the memor- 
 able accident ; 
 
 the Professor was leaning out of the window of all- 
 ot Iter compartment ^ and all the way across the bridge he 
 
 kept me at the window, gesticulating to me and shout- 
 ing out a graphic description of the frightful disaster, 
 most of the revolting details of wliicli, thank good/toss, 
 were lost in the roar of the train. . . . 
 
 Yours, &c, 
 
MY FIRST GLIMPSE OF -MODERN 
 ATHENS." 
 
 A Beautiful City — Statuary " de trop" — Sir Walter Scott's 
 Monument — Prince Albert's Statue — The Castle — Bil- 
 lings' Barracks — The One o'Clock Gun and its Effect — 
 Dinnertime for Thomas McAtkins — Young Edinburgh — 
 I View the City under Unfavorable Conditions. 
 
 FAIR Edinburgh, familiarly termed " the 
 Modern Athens/' no doubt shows to greater 
 advantage through being in such close proxim- 
 ity to her busy, commercial, overgrown sister, 
 Glasgow. I am glad to say that I have not 
 been disappointed in two beautiful cities, whose 
 charms have been eulogized again and again, 
 both by the pen of the poet and the pencil of 
 the artist. Venice I found as Turner had 
 painted her, and Edinburgh as beautiful as 
 imagination could portray ; but as a set 
 scene, to use a theatrical phrase, I must say 
 that it occurred to me that Edinburgh is rather 
 too profusely ornamented with monuments and 
 statuary ; in fact a humorous writer might well 
 be excused for comparing it to a gigantic cem- 
 etery ; but this illusion is soon dispelled, for 
 
230 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 Edinburgh, both as regards the place and the 
 people, is brightness itself. Naturally enough, 
 as an artist I was attracted by this exhibition 
 of multitudinous statues and monuments. The 
 
 monument, of course, is that of the great Sir 
 Walter Scott, standing opposite St. David 
 Street. It is 200 feet high, the details are 
 borrowed from Melrose Abbey, and built from 
 a design by Mr. George Kemp ; it has been 
 
MODERN ATHENS: 
 
 231 
 
 braving the elements in this spot since 1840-4. 
 
 But, then, I have not much sympathy with the 
 
 over-elaboration of the stonemason. I think 
 
 that, particularly in 
 
 the case of a genius 
 
 like Sir Walter, a 
 
 monument of a less 
 
 orthodox description 
 
 miodit be erected to his 
 
 memory. 
 
 One tribute to the 
 dead that struck me 
 more than any other is 
 in the forest of Fon- 
 tainbleau. It is to the 
 memory of Millet and 
 his friend Rosseau, and 
 consists of two beauti- 
 fully - wrought medal- 
 lions, beaten into the 
 surface of a huge, 
 rugged rock, in the 
 centre of the country 
 so dear to both these 
 men. In Edinburgh there is a statue which 
 seems to have been erected in protest against 
 the prevailing conventionality. It is to the 
 
232 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 memory of Prince Albert. Poor Prince Albert ! 
 Why was he so good, to be so caricatured by his 
 admirers after he had gone ? There is a statue 
 in Aberdeen where the poor Prince is collapsed 
 on a chair, evidently overpowered by his pon- 
 derous jack-boots. In Edinburgh the Prince 
 
 is seated on his horse, an animal of inquisitive 
 nature, for it is trying to peer down over the 
 
"MODERN ATHENS. 
 
 233 
 
 top of the pedestal at some figures whose faces 
 are turned toward the base I admit I hadn't 
 time to find out who these people were, but I 
 was very much struck by a 
 middle-aged gentleman in 
 his robes, standing quietly 
 by, a lady who 
 is pulling at a 
 bell she has 
 already broken, 
 a little child who 
 is running away 
 with the bell- * 
 
 rope ; while the 
 other figures, '-— ,- ~= 
 representing 
 sailors, working men, and others, seem rather 
 disappointed at not being able to find any 
 pegs to hang their wreaths upon. But this 
 is hypercritical. Of course, very few statues can 
 bear being scrutinized from all points of view 
 without presenting some ridiculous feature or 
 other ; and it is just the same with the im- 
 pressive structures. The Castle, which, to 
 quote the guide book, " crowns a precipitous 
 greenstone rock rising to an altitude of 445 
 feet above sea level," is as familiar to the 
 
234 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 Scotch as the dome of St. Paul's is to the 
 Southron. A good many people have en- 
 deavored from time to time to add to its 
 beauties, but it was reserved for one Billings 
 (good old Billings !) to erect barracks of a 
 similar description to those usually found in 
 toy boxes of Teutonic manufacture. Could 
 not someone improve upon Billings ? Perched 
 on the summit of the Castle, I was meditating 
 upon this point, when suddenly I was knocked 
 
 off my perch by the terrific report of a cannon. 
 The clock struck one, and I ran down, Mac- 
 
MODERN ATHENS." 
 
 235 
 
 Dickory, dickory, dock ! Having somewhat 
 recovered from this terrible shock, and follow- 
 
 62*' 
 
 ing the example of ninety per cent, of the good 
 people of Edinburgh, having set my watch, I 
 took rest on the second stage and was making 
 a sketch of the battlements I had so quickly 
 
236 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 descended, when, to my dismay, I saw a 
 detachment of the kilted warriors of Scotland 
 coming with marvellous rapidity down the 
 precipitous steps. I had been awed and a 
 little unnerved by reading about the imprison- 
 ment of the Earl of Argyle and principal Car- 
 stairs, and, perhaps, half dreaming of Billings, 
 and I thought that the one o'clock gun had 
 some deadly effect, and that barbaric acts of 
 cannibalism were about to be enacted within 
 the walls of Edinburgh Castle, for each son of 
 Mars bore in his hands a large steaming dish. 
 My fears were allayed, however, when I dis- 
 covered that this was " Tammas McAtkins' " 
 midday meal. 
 
 Some people seem to have an idea that the 
 Scotch are a phlegmatic race. Let me at once 
 undeceive them. Chance brought before me in 
 an authentic and forcible way that the Scotch 
 have a grievance, a grievance which they feel 
 keenly, and which, sooner or later, will be made 
 of national importance ; probably Cabinets 
 will be shaken to their foundation, and, perhaps, 
 even a civil war will occur if the matter is not 
 investigated and rectified very soon. It is no 
 less an injustice, not to say an insult, to the 
 Scotch, that in the Royal Arms used in Govern- 
 
MODERN ATHENS: 
 
 237 
 
 ment departments, principally at South Ken- 
 sington, the Shamrock has ousted the Thistle 
 
 from its accus- 
 tomed place. 
 No wonder 
 Unionism is in- 
 creasing over the 
 border. Why 
 not alter the 
 Royal Arms, and 
 
 have two lions rampant in- 
 stead of one ? 
 
 It would require the pen 
 of the poet and the brush 
 of the painter to fittingly 
 describe the charms of the 
 female portion of the resi- 
 dents of the Caledonian 
 capital. To see the young C*^* 
 girls hurrying home from school with free, 
 masculine strides, cheery faces, and flowing 
 
238 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 locks, demonstrates clearly to the English ob- 
 server that the robust blood of the hardy Scot- 
 tish race is far from losing any of its ancient 
 prestige. Princes Street, the promenade of all 
 Edinburgh, is fairly alive with bevies of pretty 
 girls of all ages and sizes, and on a fine after- 
 noon outrivals Recent Street or the Kind's 
 Road at Brighton. 
 
 It seems a thousand pities that the beauty 
 of the picturesque valley lying parallel to 
 Princes Street should be desecrated by the 
 smoke and the noise of the railway. The in- 
 habitants fought hard to prevent the iron king 
 from storming their town and claiming the 
 charming valley as his own, but I believe that, 
 unless balloon voyages had been practicable, 
 the valley is the only channel for the vast flow 
 of current traffic. 
 
 " Never put off till to-morrow what can be 
 done to-day" is a maxim, the truthfulness of 
 which I now fully appreciate. I was anxious 
 to make a sketch of Princes Street from the 
 valley, but at the time I had selected for this 
 operation I found fair Edinburgh town en- 
 veloped in a thick mist which blurred her face 
 all the rest of the time I was there. It is 
 not fair to judge a beauty when you meet 
 
"MODERN ATHENS." 239 
 
 her on a cold winter's day, wrapped in 
 furs, with red and frost-bitten nose, mud- 
 bespattered dress, and hair dishevelled by 
 the wind ; it is better to wait till you can see 
 her in becoming summer garb, with sunny 
 
 smiles and graces : neither is it right to criti- 
 cise a town in weather that is wet and misty, 
 so I shall certainly revisit this charming city 
 under more genial atmospheric conditions, 
 when the valley is fresh and verdant, when the 
 trees are clothed in their summer foliage, and 
 the sun shines upon " Modern Athens." 
 
Glasgow, 
 
 My dear J/., 
 
 When I arrived in this city 1 went up to 
 the bookstall at the railway station to buy a copy of 
 the "Bailie" and the "Evening News" when a Glas- 
 gow friend, zvhom I had previously met in London, 
 rushed up to me frantically, and cried : " Take mine I 
 take urine ! " giving me his newspapers ; " but don't 
 buy at that stall; the proprietor of it is the Mac- 
 dougall of Glasgow, and we buy our papers outside 
 now" And then he went on to tell me of the partial 
 boycotting of this newsvendor for trying to introduce 
 some absurd new (and original) Police Act, in which 
 some of the clauses were simply ridiculous. If you 
 happen to meet your aunt from the country and shake 
 hands with her in a public thoroughfare, the police 
 have a right to arrest you, and you are liable to nine 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 241 
 
 months' imprisonment with hard labor. If you ac- 
 cidentally wink at a policeman, he can k?iock you 
 down, and displace not less than five of your front 
 teeth with his foot or his truncheon. Should you curl 
 your moustache while walking in the public streets, 
 the police are at perfect liberty to arrest you, drag you 
 off to the nearest 
 barber's and 
 have your head 
 and your hirsute 
 ado r 11 m cuts 
 shaved at your 
 own expense. If 
 you happen to 
 merely look at a 
 public - J lous e or 
 restaurant, you 
 are to be thrown into the first mud-cart that comes 
 along, and with its contents to be flung into oblivion 
 forever. I make a mental resolution to disguise my- 
 self, to only slink about in back streets, and not to at- 
 tempt to make a single sketch here. 
 
 It is rather curious that one is let down into Glas- 
 gow as into the shaft of a pit, by a chain which is at- 
 tached to the front of your train, and which chants 
 sweet monotonous melody to you as you descend the in* 
 
242 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 dine, giving you a sample of the noise which never 
 leaves yon as long as you remain in the busy city of 
 the North. 
 
 What's in a name ? Everything, if it happens to 
 be the name of a hotel. You know, it is my custom 
 always to walk to the hotel we are going to stay at, 
 leaving Mac to folloiv on in a cab with the luggage. 
 The hotel we zvere booked to stay at was certainly one 
 of the best knozvn in Glasgow, and ivas situated in a 
 most prominent position. I had the name of it care- 
 fully written down on a piece of paper, so that there 
 should be no mistake : but after asking half-a-dozen 
 policemen, a dozen shopkeepers, and a score of the 
 most intelligent-looking of the passers-by, and finding 
 they all shook their heads, I began to fear that I 
 should never find either Mac or my rooms ; so I hailed 
 a cab and told the driver to go to the Windmill Hotel, 
 where I had engaged rooms. " Aa dinna ke7i nae 
 hoose edd the Windmill at a '," was all lie said. I 
 was almost giving up my search in despair when to 
 my delight I saw a cab dash round a corner in front 
 of me, bearing a pile of luggage which I recognized 
 as my own, with Mac on the box-seat. Now I'm all 
 right, I thought, but the cab was too far away to hail, 
 so I had to chase it ; but a stem chase, as everybody 
 knows y is a long one, so I had to travel a considerable 
 
FLYING VISITS. 243 
 
 distance at a most unwonted rate of speed before ar- 
 riving at the hotel in a most exhausted condition; 
 when I found the establisJiment was not widely known 
 as " The Windmill" which name was comparatively 
 new, but as " Macduff's Hotel" hence my difficulty in 
 finding it. . . . 
 
 Here in Glasgow I am reminded of Sheffield, the 
 gloom of the place contrasting witli the brightness 
 of the people, judging at least from those of the pop- 
 ulace who come to the Queen's Rooms to hear me at 
 night. . . . 
 
 • • • / am afraid we shall lose the Professor be- 
 fore we leave here, as the courtly, or as he might be 
 called, the EarVs-Courtly, Buffalo Bill is Jiere with 
 Ids famous Wild West Show, and the Professor spends 
 all his spare time in the camp, revelling in gruesome 
 tales of Indian warfare, night -at tacks, blood-tJiirsty 
 massacres, etc., and I am dreading that he will turn 
 up to manipulate the lantern some evening attired in 
 the garb of a brave on the warpath. I hardly think 
 it would tend to increase my audiences ! 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
THE QUEEN OF THE SOUTH. 
 
 Three to One — Burns Mania — Window-pane Verses — Burns 
 Going to the Dogs— The Two Markets — A Scotch Rus- 
 sian — An Ex-M.P. — Only a Face at the Window- -Old 
 Mortality and His Pony — The Observatory Garden. 
 
 THE stranger entering Dumfries from the 
 railway station, seeing its narrow and poorly- 
 paved streets, not very enticing-looking shops, 
 and less-enticing hotels, would consider the 
 
 above heading an 
 utter misnomer, 
 and if first im- 
 pressions are 
 everything, then 
 one has nothing 
 to say in justifi- 
 cation of this 
 regal title ; never- 
 theless this is 
 what the ancient 
 burgh is popularly 
 termed. Queens 
 of the South 
 might be better 
 understood ; for I am informed that in Dumfries 
 
THE QUEEN OF THE SOUTH. 245 
 
 there are three women to every man, and fine 
 strapping specimens of the Scotch lassie they 
 are too. 
 
 Passing up toward the Observatory, it is 
 made evident to you that Dumfries has a 
 distinct artistic character of its own ; and 
 when you reach the summit of the town, 
 which is revered as the burial-place of Robert 
 Burns, you can but acknowledge that it is 
 well worthy of its poetic name, and a fitting 
 place to contain the shrine of Scotland's 
 greatest poet. Stratford-on-Avon is not more 
 sacred to the memory of the immortal 
 Shakespeare than is Dumfries to the memory 
 of Burns. You find his portraits in every 
 room, little busts on every mantelpiece, and 
 relics and memorials of him at every turn. 
 Burns, it would seem, had a special penchant 
 for writing upon window-panes, and, perhaps, 
 if he had lived in more recent years, some of 
 his sparks of genius would have been scratched 
 on the railway carriage windows, and hero 
 worshippers would have had the extra satis- 
 faction of going and coming to and from 
 Dumfries in a "Burns saloon carriage." In 
 the ante-railway period, when coaching estab- 
 lishments were the temporary home of the 
 
246 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 traveller, he inscribed the following verse, 
 which is still shown, upon one of the windows 
 of the Kind's Arms Hotel in Dumfries : 
 
 " Ye men of wit and wealth, why all this sneering 
 'Gainst poor excisemen ? Give the cause a hearing. 
 What are your landlord's rent-rolls ? Taxing ledgers. 
 What premiers, what even monarch's mighty gangers ? 
 Nay, what are priests, those seeming godly wise men? 
 What are they, pray, but spiritual excisemen ?" 
 
 He also ornamented two panes in another 
 hostelry with these two effusions : 
 
 " O, lovely Polly Stewart, 
 O, charming Polly Stewart, 
 There's not a flower that blooms in May 
 That's half as fair as thou art." 
 
 And an altered rendering of a well-known song: 
 
 " Gin a body meet a body, 
 Coming through the grain ; 
 Gin a body kiss a body, 
 The thing's a body's ain." 
 
 Again I must perforce fall foul of the 
 artistic monstrosities that are erected to great 
 men. Here in the centre of the town of 
 Dumfries the people have erected a statue, 
 which my sketch is sufficient to show is rather 
 
THE QUEEN OF THE SOUTH. 
 
 247 
 
 15 L 
 
 ridiculous. Even if there is any truth in the 
 
 saying that the great bard of Scotland went 
 
 to the dogs, it wasn't at all nice of the sculptor 
 
 to make this fact so plain to the inhabitants of 
 
 the town where his 
 
 memory is so revered, 
 
 as to depict his right 
 
 foot as being the first 
 
 part of him to go. 
 
 The statue 
 
 fashioned out of the 
 
 hardest of Carrara 
 
 marble; and I am 
 
 inclined to say of it 
 
 what a critic said 
 
 of an artist's work 
 
 before which he was 
 
 shuddering: " The | 
 
 worst of it is," he^^ 
 
 said, <* that it is 
 
 painted in permanent 
 
 colors ! " 
 
 At the time I visited Dumfries there were 
 two markets being held — one for cattle and 
 the other for human beings. This latter was 
 a peculiar assemblage of curious-looking 
 rustics, both male and female, who were 
 
248 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 being interrogated and bargained for by their 
 prospective employers ; and the farmer who 
 had disposed of his cow in one market, only 
 had to proceed to the other to engage his 
 laborers. On the fringe of the crowd I 
 noticed a smart-looking cavalry man. who 
 was evidently doing 
 his utmost to induce 
 some of these toilers 
 of the field to lay 
 down the shovel and 
 take up the sword. 
 Some of the types 
 were as extravagant 
 as any you would 
 find in the West of 
 Ireland. The market 
 is attended by huck- 
 ster s, cheap delf 
 merchants, broom- 
 sellers, and fish sales- 
 men ; and one of 
 these gentlemen, 
 who was crowned with an enormous fur cap, 
 seemed to me to resemble a Russian peasant 
 a great deal more than a canny Scot. Then 
 a woman passed me with a wretched baby 
 
/ 
 
 
 ;!l 
 
 §8& 
 
 *\ 
 
 : %' OKSg-Z~ 
 
 
 /5 '- fK yRJ '(SSI V I L "*»,' 
 
 
250 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 in her arms, and holding her hand and 
 
 toddling along by her side was a diminutive 
 
 and ludicrous- 
 looking boy, 
 who, with a hat 
 the size of a 
 tea-tray, resem- 
 bled nothing 
 \ more than a 
 
 j large mushroom. 
 I stepped into 
 a stationer's 
 shop close by to 
 make a small 
 purchase, when 
 a fine old man, 
 aged, hearty, 
 
 and genteel, came in. " Bless me ! " he said ; 
 
 " bless me ! It makes 
 
 me ill to see all this 
 
 rubbish about. 
 
 Rubbish, I call it ; 
 
 rubbish ! Ah, when 
 
 I was a boy they had 
 
 none of this non- 
 
 sense ! 
 
 I turned round to 
 
THE QUEEN OF THE SOUTH. 2$l 
 
 see what was the cause of this ebullition, 
 which turned out to be a counter thickly 
 littered with Christmas cards. The old gen- 
 tleman caught my eye, and said : 
 
 "Ah ! that gentleman is laughing at me; 
 but I am old-fashioned, and can't stand these 
 new-fangled ideas." 
 
 He was an ex-Member of Parliament, and 
 would have made a fine subject for me ; so I 
 was furtively feeling for my pencil, when some- 
 one told him who I was, so he quickly de- 
 parted ; but I managed to make a hurried 
 sketch of him as he left the shop. 
 
 While perambulating the streets of Dum- 
 fries, I narrowly eyed each member of the 
 predominating sex to see if they bore any 
 outward and visible 
 reason for their numeri- 
 cal advantage, but I 
 failed to notice any- 
 thing to account for it 
 until I saw the face I 
 show in my sketch, 
 which luckily was on 
 the inner side of a 
 window pane, and which, I think, must have 
 accounted for the disappearance of a large 
 
252 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 proportion of the male population of Dum- 
 fries. 
 
 My time of departure had nearly arrived 
 when I suddenly discovered that I was about 
 to leave Dumfries without having' seen the 
 famous representation of Old Mortality and 
 his pony ; so, being a student of Art as well as 
 of Nature, I hired a conveyance, rushed madly 
 through the town, over the bridge, up to 
 Observatory, when, jumping out, I darted up 
 the garden and made the sketch which I show 
 
THE QUEEN OF THE SOUTH 253 
 
 here, the while my companion was hurriedly 
 " takkin notes " of the curiosities around. 
 Burns termed the miscellaneous collection 
 inside the building a " fouth o' auld knick- 
 knackets," but those outside are rather too 
 cumbersome to be classed under this head, 
 consisting mainly as they do of a pile in one 
 corner of the garden of old stones of all 
 shapes and sizes — round, oblong, semicircular, 
 and triangular, some of them ornamented with 
 primitive designs. These, with an old horse 
 skull, a fountain, a flagstaff, and a cannon, 
 comprise the entire ornamentation of the 
 garden. 
 
Glasgow. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 Since writing yon last we have been to 
 Hazvick — old-fashioned hotel, old-fashioned hall, old- 
 fashioned audience, and good old-fashioned Scotch 
 weather. Even Booth seems to have a dijficidty in 
 manning his citadel ; for between the parts of my en- 
 tertainment we attended a Salvation Army meeting — 
 if looking through- a side-door into an adjoining hall 
 can be called attending a meeting — and we saw there 
 half-a-dozen Scotch lasses, two men and a boy, not pro- 
 vided, as might have been expected, with bagpipes, but 
 with instruments of a more vulgar type in vogue in the 
 A rmy. Profanity — and there is plenty of it at Salva- 
 tion Army meetings — may shock one when spoken in 
 English, but the Saxon cannot help letting his risibil- 
 ity get the better of him when the said profanity is 
 uttered in strong Gaelic accents. . . . 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 255 
 
 . . . Dumfries, ivhere we next stopped, besides 
 suffering from a cJironic complaint — I mean the Burns 
 fever — is, like Dundee, victimized by the influenza 
 fiend. This necessitated more snuff, which, by the 
 way, is the worst thing for anyone who has to speak 
 for any time to take, as it affects the throat ; but my 
 moderate quantum snuff — I mean suff. — did not affect 
 me to any great extent, beyond causing me to acquire 
 a sort of incipient Scotch burr, which my audience 
 took as a compliment to them. . . . 
 
 . . . Our next move ivas Kilmarnock, and the hotel 
 we stopped at 
 tJiere was the 
 best of the old- 
 fashioned sort 
 we had yet 
 encountered in 
 Scotland. I 
 sent you some 
 of the famous 
 Kilmarnock 
 whiskey from 
 there. A better 
 
 draught is not to be had anywhere, but a worse draught 
 than I ivas in on the stage can hardly be conceived. 
 It was a small cyclone. Fortunately at eitlier side of 
 
256 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 the stage there was an alcove sheltered from the N.E. 
 windy which came whistling dozen from the flies. I 
 delivered a part of my entertainment from one alcove, 
 and then turning up my coat collar I would scuttle 
 across to the other and get through anotJicr instal- 
 ment ; so that I must hare looked like one of these 
 old-fashioned figures in the weather-tellers, which 
 advance and retreat according to the changes in the 
 weather. . . . 
 
 . . . We have also been to Paisley and Greenock, 
 winding up at the latter place on Saturday night. 
 The Professor spent his day there at the Courts, and 
 unburdened himself to us of a vivid description of the 
 case of some unfortunate circus performer who had 
 murdered his sweetheart. By the way, I discovered 
 some MS. of the Professor s in cipher the other day. 
 I was beginning to suspect him of being a contributor 
 to the " Jail-bird Gazette," or else that he is going in 
 for a competition in " Startling Bits." . . . 
 
 Yours, &c, 
 
THE TOWN OF THE " TWA BRIGS.' 
 
 More of the Burns Epidemic— Relics of Tarn O'Shanter and 
 Souter Johnny— The Burns Country— " The Auld Brig o' 
 Doon"— The Esplanade— An " Ayr-gun "—The Legend 
 of the " Twa Brigs "—No Romance Nowadays. 
 
 HE 
 
 as 
 describes it, 
 
 old town of Ayr, or, 
 Burns more familiarly 
 
 " Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a 
 town surpasses, 
 For honest men and bonnie 
 lasses," 
 
 is associated with two 
 things, sport and song. In 
 the summer time, pilgrim 
 worshippers of the immor- 
 tal Burns overrun the 
 historic place ; the lightly- 
 clad Yankee tourist, that 
 ^ v most enthusiastic devotee 
 
 of everything that is ancient in the mother 
 country, the Southern cheap tripper, the 
 Midland manufacturer, with an occasional 
 rata avis from the Continent, wend their way, 
 
258 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 open-pursed and open-mouthed, to visit the 
 birthplace of Robert Burns, and those scenes 
 the immortalization of which have given the 
 poet such a prominent niche in Scotland's 
 temple of fame. For twopence they can stand 
 awe-stricken in " the cottage," the hallowed 
 spot where Burns first saw the light, now the 
 sanctum sanctorum of his spiritual existence. 
 In this humble abode everything Burnsian is 
 concentrated. You are surrounded by Burns 
 portraits and manuscripts, and can feast your 
 eyes with the identical, or supposed to be 
 identical, chairs which supported in the Tarn 
 o' Shanter Inn the historic forms of Souter 
 Johnny and the redoubtable Tarn himself. 
 The shade of this worthy also pervades 
 Alloway Kirk, past which Tarn and his gray 
 mare were wending their homeward way when 
 the unwonted illumination drew him to become 
 a witness of the witches' dance, that fearsome 
 orgie which Burns has so powerfully described 
 in verse. The Burns Monument, close to the 
 Kirk, is open for your inspection on payment 
 of the inevitable twopence. Here again there 
 is another strong muster of Burns relics, and 
 if you are smitten very badly with the Burns 
 fever, you can, without any extra disbursement, 
 
THE TOWN OF THE " TWA BRIGS. 1 
 
 259 
 
 ascend the stairs and gaze enraptured at the 
 surrounding scenery, popularly known, it is 
 hardly necessary to say, as " the Burns 
 country." The "Auld Brig o' Doon," and 
 the stone presentments of Tarn o' Shanter and 
 Souter Johnny still claim your attention before 
 you return. to the town itself, when, if you are 
 a well-regulated tourist, your antiquarian ap- 
 petite ought to be thoroughly satiated. 
 
 In winter " the horn of the hunter is heard 
 on the hill," and over the " twa brigs o' Ayr" 
 pass the huntsmen with their eager-mouthed 
 pack, for Ayr is one of the centres of the 
 
260 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 native sportsman, though I was informed that 
 the seductions of the Leicestershire hunts were 
 drawing a good many devotees of the sport 
 away. Ayr is known as the Brighton of Scot- 
 land, and I suppose that in the summer season 
 the visitors throng the " twa brigs o' Ayr," and 
 promenade up and down the Esplanade, but 
 at this period of the year the Esplanade is 
 anything but an enticing spot. Instead of 
 having bright, handsome shops facing the sea, 
 the buildings seemed to have turned their 
 backs on the waters of the Firth of Clyde and 
 long vistas of bare, uninteresting walls meet 
 the view, in strong contrast to the watering- 
 places on our South Coast. In the centre 
 stands the prison, grim and forbidding of 
 aspect, with its iron-barred windows, and en- 
 circled by a high wall. On the other side of 
 this is Wellington Square, in which stand the 
 statues of two gentlemen of note, the late Earl 
 of Eglinton and General Neil, who was killed 
 at the relief of Lucknow. 
 
 I made my visit during the recent storms, 
 and with tightly buttoned ulster and hat firmly 
 jammed down on my head, I braved the 
 elements and took a walk along, or more 
 correctly speaking, was blown along, the sea 
 
THE TOWN OF THE "TWA BRIGS: 
 
 261 
 
 front. Crack ! crack ! crack ! like a fusillade 
 of toy- pistols, went the seaweed with which 
 the parade was thickly strewn, under my feet. 
 I thought at first that I was the only living 
 
 being on the Esplanade on this inclement 
 morning, but at last I met one native, a robust 
 lady, taking her constitutional and battling 
 with the wind ; a few dishevelled dogs were 
 being blown off their legs ; and at the end 
 toward the harbor were congregated a little 
 knot of hardy-looking, weather-beaten fisher- 
 
262 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 men, discussing the thrilling accounts of the 
 numerous recent shipwrecks. Here were two 
 
 *~fei 
 
 
 or three guns of an obsolete type, useless as 
 weapons of offence or defence, and not exactly 
 what might have been termed ornamental ; and 
 
 I suppose that 
 frequently 
 during the 
 season the 
 Cockney tour- 
 ist, if that 
 ubiquitous 
 being penetrates so far from his beloved 
 
264 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 Metropolis, sees his opportunity for a little 
 joke, and says to one of the sailors, " I sup- 
 pose this is wot you call an Ayr-gun ? " 
 
 In my sketch of Ayr I show the " twa 
 brigs " previously referred to, the old and the 
 modern. The old bridge is a picturesque and 
 venerable pile, and there is a romance in every 
 stone. The legend dates back over six hun- 
 dred years, and the story is neatly told as 
 follows by Mr. William Robertson : 
 
 " On the right-hand side — the upper side 
 of the bridge — is a date, 1252, and close by, 
 all that remains of what were once two heads. 
 The disintegrating influence of time and 
 weather have almost obliterated these heads, 
 and it requires a strong effort of the imagina- 
 tion to picture them the presentment of the 
 faces of two fair ladies, who are said to have 
 erected the bridge at their own expense. These 
 ladies were lovers who were not only faithful, 
 but practical. They were betrothed to knights 
 of the olden time. As knights in these days 
 were in the habit of doing, they went forth 
 somewhere to fight. Returning to keep tryst 
 with their sweethearts, they came to the river. 
 It was rolling in torrent — and the river Ayr 
 can roll in torrent when the winter rains are 
 
THE TOWN OF THE "TWA BRIGS: 
 
 265 
 
 out — but the cavaliers pushed their horses 
 into the flood, and disappeared. The ladies 
 wept: but when they had dried their tears 
 they built the bridge ; and it must have been 
 satisfactory to them to feel that they had 
 rendered the courtship of the period less 
 
 dangerous in wet weather as a recreation than 
 it had been previously. I am not quite sure 
 about that date, 1252 ; but this much is cer- 
 tain, that the Old Bridge was there when 
 Columbus set out to look for America." 
 
 I stood on the bridge at midday, and 
 thought of these two fair ladies ; and I was 
 picturing to myself the scene — which must 
 
266 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 appeal to every artist (shall I say in water- 
 colors ?) — of the poor maids weeping copiously 
 and bitterly, and their two knights being 
 swept away, horses and all, when at that 
 moment two young beauties of Ayr, comfort- 
 ably wrapped up in their ulsters, walked 
 briskly over the bridge, laughing at a knight 
 of the road on wheels who was feebly en- 
 deavoring to struggle over the bridge against 
 a tremendous head wind and rain coming 
 down in torrents. This little incident sug- 
 gested to me that there is very little romance 
 in these present practical days, even in the 
 charming, quaint, old-fashioned town of Ayr. 
 
Ayr. 
 My dear M., 
 
 Please send up a hamper — some portable 
 soup, a lobster or two, 
 and some tinned meat 
 will do — for we are 
 on the verge of starva- 
 tion ; and you migJit 
 also send up a waiter 
 with them — not a 
 dumb one, but one 
 for active service. The genial old 
 imbecile who does duty for the lat- 
 ter here may have been a useful 
 veteran in the days of Konig Wil- 
 heltn II., in the commissariat, but 
 he is not much use in Jus present ca- 
 pacity on the first floor of this hotel. 
 I suppose he was placed here on ac- 
 count of the duties being so light. 
 
268 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 I have heard of people living on air, but I never ex- 
 pected that I should have to do so in Ayr, Queer 
 coincidence. It was very lucky the advance booking 
 was large, for tJiere has been a regular storm all the 
 time we have been Jiere. It has nearly blown us out 
 of our room in the hotel ; in fact, Mac had to put 
 weights on me when I turned into bed, in case a cyclone 
 took me up the chimney. The same storm must have 
 blozvn everything out of the larder, for we have ex- 
 perienced the greatest difficulty in getting the where- 
 withal to satisfy our appetites. Our principal article of 
 diet was a statue of Burns — another one ! — on which 
 we feasted our eyes from the hotel window. 
 
 After my show zve rushed in as hungry as Jiunters ; 
 but a great deal of bell-ringing was only productive 
 of an attenuated and diminutive bird, which we put 
 down to be a sparrow, but the superannuated individ- 
 ual before mentioned gravely assured us it zuas a fowl. 
 He seemed quite surprised when, after disposing of 
 this miserable biped in two mouthfuls, zve told him 
 that we were still ravenous and wanted sometliing to 
 eat ; hozvever, he brought us tzvo poached eggs on toast, 
 from the size of zvJiicJi we firmly believed they must 
 have been laid by the sparrozv we had just demolished. 
 They didn't go very far, but all our entreaties and 
 supplications were only rewarded by two more eggs 
 like the previous ones. That sparrow can't have been 
 a very prolific bird ! 
 
FLYING VISITS. 
 
 269 
 
 The hurricane that had been raging outside was 
 nothing to that which prevailed in the hotel when I 
 zvent down to pay my bill ; even the barometer on the 
 stairs immediately pointed to " Very Stormy " when it 
 saw me coming. 
 
 The hotel was first rate as far as upholstery and 
 ^g^ fittings zvent, but you, can't 
 
 ™ /^""n live on a Turkey carpet 
 
 and a hydraulic lift, . . . 
 . . . I had 
 been looking for- 
 ward to having 
 some golf on the 
 famous Prestwich 
 links near here, but 
 the Clerk of the 
 Weather was evi- 
 dently not in favor 
 of the arrange- 
 ment, and put his 
 veto on it. I had 
 a game a week or 
 so ago on the links 
 at Troon, which adjoin those of Prestzvich ; but on 
 that occasion I travelled down from Glasgow. Even 
 then there was a perfect hurricane of zvind, which 
 blew the tee into the air before you could strike the 
 ball off it, and frequently my hat had a race in mid- 
 
270 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 air with my golf ball. I am anticipating with pleas- 
 ure a return visit to this quaint old town, and I hope 
 the elements will permit of my seeing more of it, as 
 this time there is too much wind even for the aerial 
 performance of paying a flying visit to Ayr, the coun- 
 try of hunting and golf. . . . 
 
 . . . On one of the tzva brigs we encoimtered the 
 Professor, who, regardless of the inclement weather, 
 had come to gloat over the scene of the legend of the 
 tzvo knights and the two fair ladies. We said to 
 him : " We suppose you are thinking that the rocks 
 up against which the two knights were dashed by the 
 stream were sharper in those days tlian they are 
 noiv ? " He shook his head as he replied : " No, I 
 don't think much of that legend ; those girls ought cer- 
 tainly to have thrown themselves in after their lov- 
 ers ! h and with a profound sigh at the incompleteness 
 of the story, he bent his head to the gale and walked 
 away. The howling wind and the blinding raiji com- 
 bined to give the Professor an even more gruesome 
 aspect than usual, eriveloped in an enormous mackin- 
 tosh as he zvas — a mackintosh zvhich zvould, as he said 
 himself, " make a splendid shroud for any average- 
 sized man / " . . . 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
COTTONOPOLIS. 
 
 Old Mancunium — Smoke and Shekels — Musical Manchester 
 — Oh ! those Lorries ! — A Typical Picture of the City — 
 More Statues — One that was left of them. 
 
 Those artistically inclined, who visited the 
 exhibition in Manchester five years ago, and 
 strolled through the representation of Old 
 Manchester, must have felt sorry indeed that 
 a transformation had ever been effected in the 
 appearance of the town, for the Manchester 
 of to-day is hardly the most picturesque of 
 cities. Of course, as in Old London, which 
 was represented previously in the Exhibition 
 at Kensington, all the tit-bits of the picturesque 
 past were collected together, and formed into 
 one charming street. In the old days one 
 would have had to look through a great deal 
 of crude ugliness to find the artistic, so to-day 
 it may be possible to trudge through the wet, 
 foggy, dull, uninteresting miles of Manchester 
 and pick out a nook and corner here and there, 
 which, blended together, would make an 
 agreeable whole, but to complete the harmony 
 we would want an agreeable atmosphere. 
 
272 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 Whatever the Manchester of the bygone 
 days may have been, it surely could be seen ; 
 nowadays, even that is not always possible. 
 During a stay in Manchester you have a much 
 better opportunity of forming a close acquaint- 
 ance with the interior of the Manchester four- 
 wheeler, or the inside of your umbrella, than 
 the exteriors of the public buildings. 
 
 Although trees may not grow in Cottonopo- 
 lis, fortunes do, and it is in the knowledge of this 
 fact that its inhabitants live, move, and have 
 their being. As for the proverbial wet weather, 
 that is nobody's fault ; that the much-abused 
 clerk of the weather is a Manchester man, or 
 has any particular spite against the city, is a 
 question which has not yet been decided. The 
 smoke is the cause of the prevailing dulness, 
 and as smoke is (or perhaps I should say, is 
 at present) inseparably connected with trade, 
 probably brighter weather, if it did by any 
 chance arrive, might not be altogether accept- 
 able to the Manchester man of commerce. 
 
 In spite of this, Manchester prides itself 
 on being artistic, musical, and theatrical. No 
 doubt no finer collection of pictures has been 
 got together than that in the exhibition a few 
 years ago ; Halle's concerts are unsurpassed, 
 
274 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 and the Shakesperian revivals were the best 
 produced plays of the day. My experience of 
 Manchester has been rather too limited to 
 judge of these things for myself, but I have 
 heard it said that appreciation of the three 
 arts is the work of three men ; that but for 
 Mr. Agnew no art to speak of would have 
 existed ; that Sir Charles Halle's personality 
 has gained for the city its musical reputation, 
 and that Mr. Charles Calvert supplied the 
 theatrical culture single-handed. That is all 
 
 r~ 
 
 
 very well. The populace may be devoid of 
 rare artistic feeling, but they have a commer- 
 cial one which prompts them to spend their 
 money, without which art could not flourish. 
 Manchester, like London, may be paved with 
 
COTTONOPOLIS. 
 
 275 
 
 gold, but why have it paved at all ? Why not 
 have gold replaced with smooth, noiseless wood 
 and asphalt ? Then might the weary travel- 
 lers rest in the 
 arms of Mor- 
 pheus undis- £££§\ 
 turbed. Oh, 
 those lorries 
 a bed 
 Cheapside 
 would be 
 Paradise to 
 the h u r 1 y- 
 burly of stone- 
 pave d Man- 
 chester. 
 
 My sketch 
 at the head of 
 this article is 
 typical of Manchester. The imposing exterior 
 of the fine Town Hall can only be seen in 
 silhouette, and the busy populace, on business 
 bent, flit about like shadows in the mist ; but, 
 after all, the noise and din of commerce is 
 the sweetest of music to the mercantile ear, 
 which hears the chink of gold through the rattle 
 of heavily-laden wagons. In the foreground is 
 
276 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 the daughter of a wealthy merchant, interesting 
 herself in the poor sister of the slums ; this 
 makes a pretty little scene, and is true to 
 Nature, for wealth and misery are ever side 
 by side. 
 
 In this square stands the statue of John 
 Bright. The great orator of Parliament is 
 turning his back upon the late 
 Bishop, and I was singularly 
 struck by the fact that the poor 
 
 sculptor has 
 
 great difficulties 
 
 to contend with. 
 
 The Bishop in 
 
 his gaiters is all 
 
 right, but just 
 
 look at Mr. 
 
 Bright's back, 
 
 and you will fy 
 
 find he looks /ft 
 
 like a clumsy J| 
 
 amateur con- 
 jurer about to *• 
 
 perform some w I 
 
 trick with an 
 
 egg and a handkerchief. It is 
 
 a pity, for the face and front 
 
COTTONOPOLIS. 
 
 277 
 
 view of the statue are particularly good. 
 Bright might have been shown in Quaker 
 gaiters or ministerial garb. 
 
 Not a hundred yards from the square, down 
 a side street, I made a sketch of some girls 
 waiting at a stage door to be engaged. What 
 a change from the dull streets and workshops 
 to the halls of dazzling delight ! 
 
 To what base uses do we come ! Here in 
 
278 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 the centre of the town was a Crimean hero, 
 standing dressed in the famed and revered 
 uniform of the Light Brigade, offering his 
 pictures and an account of his daring deeds. 
 /"T\ An old washing-stand 
 
 serves as a counter on 
 which to place his 
 photos, and I noticed 
 that the poor fellow 
 had, either by accident 
 or design, selected a 
 spot near the statue of 
 the great Wellington 
 on which to take his 
 stand. 
 
 As in all big cities, 
 the streets of Cotton- 
 opolis abound in side- 
 lights and character, to 
 describe one hundredth 
 part of which, seen 
 even by the casual visitor, would require a 
 volume in itself; but at some other time I will 
 give my impressions of Manchester more fully, 
 and more worthy of the great city. 
 

 Manchester. 
 
 My dear M., 
 
 A little novelty in hotels at last ! We were 
 waited upon by neat-lianded Phyllises in our hotel at 
 Preston ; and this fact, combined with the general ap- 
 pearance of the establishment, suggests a convalescent 
 home rather than a hotel, surroimded as it is by 
 grounds, and the long covered passage, which leads 
 right down from the hotel entrance down to the rail- 
 way station, bears out this idea, particularly as the 
 place was most scrupulously clean and well ordered. 
 I had a packed atidience ; in fact, I couldn't have ex- 
 pected to see the hall any better filled if my theme had 
 been football in lieu of politics. Back to Cottonopolis 
 next day, as in the evening I had to fulfil an engage- 
 ment at Stretford. I seem to have taken a lease of 
 the York Room in the Queen's Hotel here, so many 
 
280 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 times during my tour have I put up in Manchester. 
 The lift has just taken down the " Two Macs" Mac- 
 lure and Maclean, and brought up my friend Agnew ; 
 in fact, one friend after another invades me, all full 
 of excitement over the Manchester School Board elec- 
 tions and the symptoms of the approaching Parlia- 
 mentary contest. It is a good thing there is no junc- 
 tion in the lift; for party feeling is running high, 
 and the different shades of political opinion might 
 cause an amusing contretemps invaluable to the far- 
 cical comedy now so much in vogue. . . . 
 
 . . . But really I thought last night that some 
 dreadful faction fight had occurred, for in the early 
 hours of the morning I was awoke by what I thought 
 zvas heavy cannonading, which continued with inde- 
 scribable aggressiveness. Gat ling guns were going 
 off, explosions were taking place every second. In my 
 sleepy state of semi-consciousness, I put this down to 
 either a fierce battle or an unusually protracted fire- 
 work display ; but when it had continued for some 
 time I got frantic and rang the bell violently, when 
 in answer to my furious peals a sleepy domestic in- 
 formed me that they were " only putting new boilers 
 in the kitchen" Only, indeed ! I think they might 
 have taken the votes of their patrons in the hotel as to 
 whether they would rather have their nerves shat- 
 
FLYING VISITS. 28 1 
 
 tered when they ought to be asleep, or take their meals 
 outside the hotel on the following day. I know which 
 way my vote would have gone. . . . 
 
 . . . We are now off to Darwen—the last night 
 of the tour, after sixteen weeks of u?tbroken engage- 
 ments. Luckily, this last is an engagement, as the 
 house is sure to be full of paper ; for my show comes 
 among a series of entertainments given by Mr. Hunt- 
 ington, the great papermaker, to his townspeople. I 
 wonder if the first lecture given in this series ', con- 
 sidering the name of this enterprising town, was on 
 " The Origin of Species " ? The Professor thinks it 
 was, and moreover assured us that " The Murder in 
 tJie Rue Morgue " was first rehearsed at Darzven, and 
 that Jekyll and Hyde came from these parts ; but, 
 judging from the hearty, laughter-loving audience 
 I had, I think this must be an invention on the Pro- 
 fessor's part. . . . 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
TRAVELLING IN SCOTLAND. 
 
 A Stranger in a Strange Land — Over the Border — My First 
 Glimpse of the "Land o' Cakes" — And my First of 
 Switzerland — Draughty Carriages — Gretna Green — Elope- 
 ments up to Date — "Caledonia, Stern and Wild" — 
 Giants' Golf Links—" Caller Herrin' ! " 
 
 I had never visited Scotland until I did so 
 this winter. Year after year I have done the 
 " Continong" more or less; I have explored 
 England, Ireland, and Wales, but by some 
 odd chance or other I found myself a stranger 
 in a strange land when I crossed the border a 
 short time ago. 
 
 There is a curious fascination in visiting a 
 new country for the first time ; the traveller 
 always imagines for the time being that he is 
 a Columbus on a voyage of discovery, and it 
 is quite a disappointment to find nothing 
 particularly worthy of notice in the hitherto 
 unknown land. The moment you cross the 
 border-line you peer out of the window — the 
 grass is the same green, the trees bear the 
 same foliage, and the telegraph poles are of 
 
TRAVELLING IN SCOTLAND. 283 
 
 the same pattern as those you have been 
 passing for hours ; yet you imagine that some- 
 how the grass grows more in patches, that the 
 trees are all bent toward the north, and that 
 the telegraph poles are shorter and placed 
 nearer to each other. Are they ? I have more 
 than once (to test this) " made believe" I have 
 been travelling in a strange country, and have 
 watched with interest everything I passed, 
 everything I had been in the habit of seeing 
 continually, with a fresh eye. It is really 
 astonishing how many things you notice in 
 this way that strike you as being unique and 
 peculiar. It is very good fun playing a 
 practical joke on yourself in this way, and it 
 also brings home to you the fact that you 
 often imagine you see things that are new 
 which are really not so. Still I declare that 
 as soon as I passed the border, and found 
 myself for the first time in the " Land o' 
 Cakes," my artistic eye was struck by the 
 rich coloring of the landscapes, and I was 
 forcibly reminded of the strong tones of the 
 Scotch pictures I was familiar with. The red 
 soil, the vivid green, and the rich purple back- 
 ground of the mountain scenery was fresh and 
 new to my eye, and there was no deceiving 
 
284 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 my ear when at the stations the names were 
 (unintelligible to me) called out as they were 
 in a strong Scotch accent, but the picture as a 
 whole is naturally enough not so strikingly 
 different to the English eye as that presented 
 by a country abroad. 
 
 I recollect travelling right through the 
 Continent by express without a change, and, 
 awaking one morning in the train, I looked 
 sleepily out of the window. There was a 
 Swiss scene before me — the chalet covered 
 with snow, the little village and the toy figures 
 standing about, the mountains and the fir- 
 trees. I thought for the moment my travelling 
 companion had put a very indifferent oleo- 
 graph on the window, and I stretched out my 
 hand to take it down. I had had my first 
 peep at Switzerland, but I doubt if the Swiss 
 scenery can compare with that of Scotland. 
 There is more of Nature and less of the made 
 picture about the rugged Highlands, and it 
 requires the pen of a Black and the brush of 
 a MacWhirter to do justice to it. 
 
 I must admit that, although I did not 
 find the Scotch people cold (on the contrary, 
 a warmer-hearted race it has never been my 
 lot to meet), I found the travelling cold enough 
 
TRAVELLING IN SCOTLAND. 
 
 285 
 
 in all conscience. Whether it is that the wind 
 is more penetrating, or that the carriages are 
 not so well built as ours, I cannot say, but I 
 
 think the latter the more likely explanation. 
 The compartments are leaky, the windows 
 and doors being simply very open ventilating 
 shafts. The result is better shown by a sketch, 
 
286 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 so here is my travelling companion literally- 
 sketched in the train from life. 
 
 
 Steaming away northward from Carlisle 
 we pass a spot romantic in the extreme and 
 dear to the heart of every daughter of the 
 northern shires. It is Gretna Green. The 
 country is pretty, and its charms are en- 
 hanced by glimpses of the beautiful river in 
 the distance. From the carriage window you 
 can see a few houses and the blacksmith's 
 shop, the most romantic spot in this romantic 
 place ; perhaps also you may catch a glimpse 
 of the little inn close by, where the marriages 
 
TRAVELLING IN SCOTLAND. 
 
 287 
 
 took place, and where the unique register is 
 
 still to be seen 
 the picturesque 
 scene, you can 
 imagine to your- 
 self the runaway 
 couple flying 
 along in a post- 
 chais e, th e 
 horses covered 
 with foam and 
 
 As your eye takes 
 
 in 
 
 wincing 
 
 again 
 and again under 
 the whip which 
 is being freely 
 plied by the pos- 
 tilion, eager to 
 reach the goal 
 and claim his promised reward ; perhaps 
 also he enters into the spirit of the thing, 
 and excitement is another stimulant. Behind 
 follows the irate parent in hot pursuit. Now- 
 adays, had not the marriage laws of Scot- 
 land been altered, the tandem tricycle of these 
 prosaic times would have taken the place of 
 the post-chaise of the past, and the angry 
 father or guardian would have given chase on 
 
288 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 a racing safety ; or the fleeing couple would 
 have travelled by the Scotch express, and the 
 chaser have chartered a pilot engine on which 
 to follow them. It is well the law was altered 
 before the romance could be destroyed by any 
 such inartistic surroundings. 
 
 But the strong feature of Scotland is the 
 wild beauty of its picturesque scenery, and 
 when traversing the length and breadth of 
 the country in the train one panorama after 
 another of varied landscape pleases and 
 gratifies the English eye. In many of the 
 hilly parts the land is unsuited for any pur- 
 pose but grazing, and it is while the eye is 
 surveying these desolate tracts that the mind 
 realizes the beautiful fitness of the line, " O 
 Caledonia, stern and wild/' 
 
 As an instance of this, you can travel for 
 miles through the huge estate of the Duke of 
 Buccleuch without seeing any life on the wild, 
 undulating, heather-covered hills, except here 
 and there a grouse or blackcock, which, with 
 a few other birds dear to the heart of the 
 sportsman, and a few scattered sheep, were, 
 as far as I could see, the sole denizens of this 
 vast expanse of hill and dale, though I believe 
 there are a few scattered shepherds' huts con- 
 
TRAVELLING IN SCOTLAND. 
 
 289 
 
 cealed somewhere among the hills. The sole 
 specimen of the human race that I saw in this 
 land of solitude was one of these tenders of 
 sheep. He was seated by the side of a running 
 
 brook, the charms of which he ignored as he 
 consoled himself in his solitude by a " wee 
 drap " from a black bottle, which must have 
 been a welcome companion in these dreary 
 wastes. 
 
290 
 
 FLYING VISITS. 
 
 The stranger is somewhat puzzled by the 
 sight of little circular walled-in enclosures 
 dotted every here and there, and it is said 
 that a facetious native informed an inquisitive 
 English tourist that these hills were the chief 
 Scottish golf-links, and that the enclosures he 
 saw were the " putting-holes." Whether the 
 tourist believed this explanation tradition 
 sayeth not. As a matter of fact, these myste- 
 rious enclosures are "bughts," which, being 
 translated, means sheep-pens. 
 
 How often one hears the name of Scotland 
 coupled with the word shooting ; and yet, 
 
TRAVELLING IN SCOTLAND. 
 
 291 
 
 to say, during the month or more I 
 did not hear the report 
 
 strange 
 
 spent in Scotland I 
 of a gun until just 
 before I crossed 
 the border home- 
 ward-bound, 
 when, as the train 
 was urging on its 
 wild career 
 through lovely 
 Annandale, I 
 caught sight of 
 a shooting-party 
 close by the rail- 
 way line, of which 
 I had just time to 
 make a hurried 
 sketch before the 
 iron horse had 
 
 also 
 
 carried me out of eyesight. I add 
 note of a buxom Scotch fishwife, ever 
 welcome sight in the " Land o' Cakes." 
 
£ X7>> 
 
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 j£ 
 
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 THE END. 
 
 H 46- 79 
 
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