'■ of MY ITINERARY 
 
 
 ■ 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 
WITH COMPLIMENTS OF 
 
 The Scribbler. 
 
DIARY OF MY ITINERARY 
 
 ...OF... 
 
 Sixty Days Across 
 ♦ ♦♦the Water ♦♦. 
 
 <? "i^c^c^M- ci 
 
 A HURRYGRAPH." 
 
 And sometimes we did ship a sea, 
 Sometimes a ship did see. 
 
 — Mrs. Osgood. 
 
 St. Augustine, Fla. 
 1904. 
 

 - 
 
 - 
 
 OCT 31 
 Gods 
 
 CUSS £l a, 
 
 
 COPYBIGHT, 1901, 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS B. GEORGE 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 In Memory of My Mother. 
 
 Love is stronger than death." 
 
FOR PRIVATE 
 CIRCULATION 
 
 ONLY 
 
" /-ar o'er the waters of the deep blue sea, 
 With hopes as boundless — thoughts us fire." 
 
 LEFT St. Augustine on Sunday morning, Oct. 4, 
 1903, for Jacksonville; next day left for New 
 York via Clyde Line steamer, everything pleas- 
 ant, including the weather, until we reached the vicin- 
 ity of Sandy Hook when the sun vanished and a dense 
 fog suddenly descended and obscured every object of 
 interest in New York harbor. The Statue of Liberty 
 we saw as "Through a glass — darkly." Reached our 
 dock, foot of Christopher street, in a great storm of 
 wind and rain Friday about noon. The rain coming 
 down in torrents — had been for the last two hours. 
 
 Left New York by Cunard steamship ' ' Etruria' ' 
 at 8:15 A.M. Saturday, Oct. 10, in a storm of great 
 violence — wind and rain. In the vicinity of Sandy 
 Hook were scores of vessels, steamers and sailing craft 
 at anchorage awaiting the passing of the storm to re- 
 sume their voyage — having the mails, I suppose, ex- 
 plains it. Our boat pushed forward right into the 
 teeth of the great storm, confessedly great, as you will 
 discover, as a ponderous wave struck our ship at about 
 3:00 p. m. which smashed the bridge forward on which 
 the lookout was stationed. The man was seriously in- 
 jured, as were several cabin passengers who had 
 thoughtlessly exposed themselves near the skylight on 
 main deck forward. Some of these required the im- 
 mediate care of the ship's surgeon, a Mr. W. W. Hall 
 and family very especially. It turned out that Mr. 
 Hall was fatally injured (died the 15th inst.). Mrs. 
 Hall proved to have a dislocated hip and broken ankle; 
 their boy was also somewhat injured. To anticipate 
 
On the Atlantic 
 
 I will here say that Mr. Hall's remains were preserved 
 in ice and taken to Liverpool. Mrs. Hall and her son 
 were sent to some hospital direct from the ship— hearse 
 and ambulance already at the dock on our arrival. 
 What a dismal tragedy it was. 
 
 Arrived at Queenstown, Ireland, at 7:00 a. m., Sat- 
 urday, 17th, where our great mail, with many boxes of 
 bullion — several tons seemingly — were transferred to 
 a great tug-boat for Queenstown, where they are again 
 transferred to railway for transportation to their desti- 
 nation, saving several hours thereby in delivery. 
 
 Queenstown was not visible from our ship; 'tis in 
 a cove only a short distance removed. It was a barren 
 coast thereabouts. We passed scores of fishing craft, 
 many with sails, color of Spanish brown. I wonder 
 what for? They soon look dingy I observed by the 
 older boats; they had a shabby look. 
 
OLD ENGLAND AT LAST. 
 
 Liverpool, 7:00 a. m. Oct. 18. 
 
 Was roused out for early breakfast at 5:00 o'clock 
 — this is Sunday. Although within ' 'seeing distance' ' 
 of Liverpool, en first looking out the fog was too dense 
 to take in surrounding objects clearly before landing. 
 The great steamer "Cedric," about 20,000 tons burden, 
 which left New York the day before we did, having 
 on board the Marquis of Lansdown and Sir Thomas 
 Lipton, was just struggling to get into her dock as we 
 moved into ours. Beat her by about thirty minutes. 
 Bully for our side! Great is the " Etruria" for speed 
 and, for her size, I think unequalled. We had a rough 
 but speedy voyage over. It did not cost Cunard Co. 
 much for table supplies — few took full meals, many 
 did not average a meal a day. I was quite sick the 
 first two days and did not at any time care much for 
 food, yet ample provisions were made for square meals 
 and everything was excellent in quality, as was the 
 service. 
 
 At "Lime street station, Ten o'clock and a gloomy 
 morning." I can recall when the night-watch called 
 the hours with a refrain similar to the above in New 
 Orleans, varying it according to the weather. Have 
 just passed "my traps." this, the customs, a simple 
 matter here— so few dutiable articles under the British 
 tariff. Nothing attractive about the railway station- 
 only for its magnitude— hardly suggests a great city 
 such as Liverpool; but then it is such dismal weather. 
 I took short walks, saw some noble buildings and fine 
 statues, but so begrimed by smoke and rain as to divest 
 them of all attractions. And the streets seem slimy, 
 
Liverpool and Careleon 
 
 smoke, fog and grime, with a drizzling rain. I was 
 glad to get back to the station where I paid about $3.00 
 in our money fare to Caerleon, Monmouthshire, famous 
 for its antiquities and renowned in song and story, vide 
 Tennyson's "Idyls of the Kings," etc. 
 
 Left station at \ 1 -.30 a. m. in heavy rain which con- 
 tinued during all my journey. For some reason never 
 explained had to get off at Pontypool Road, six or 
 eight miles short of my destination. Our route was via 
 Stafford, Shrewsbury and Hereford; changed cars at 
 each of these stations. Whether from the heavy rains 
 or other cause had constant detentions. It was about 
 10:00 p. M. when we got to Pontypool Road, about 
 one and half miles from Poutypool. No livery avail- 
 able; train so much behind time — gave it up probably 
 — at all events I had to foot it through mud and rain 
 to the town proper, and then had difficulty in finding 
 a hotel open, everybody had gone to bed. However, 
 finally, near midnight found accommodations, a cup of 
 tea, some cold meat, etc. Had not partaken of any 
 food since our 5:00 o'clock breakfast, as stated, on the 
 teamship. Wet, tired, and hungry, I was so "done 
 up" by my day's experience that I did not go to sleep 
 until it was almost time to get up to face another 
 gloomy day. Pontypool may have some attractions in 
 finer weather. It is situated on side of a hill of con- 
 siderable altitude with southern exposure, command- 
 ing a fine view miles in extent. The streets can dis- 
 count Kansas City for "steepness." It is the center 
 of vast industries: mines — coal and iron — and the tall 
 chimneys visible on every hand, suggest many indus- 
 tries of great magnitude. The "shops" (no stores in 
 England) suggest considerable wealth in some quarters, 
 
Caerleon and Pontypool 
 
 yet the general aspect of the town is rather discourag- 
 ing, nothing cheery. The working people — you meet 
 them on every hand — appear to have "something on 
 their minds," so to speak; their movements heavy, 
 slouching; garments mean, sordid. Although steady 
 rain was falling none seemed to mind it and hardly any 
 one carried an umbrella. Idlers stood in groups at the 
 street crossings and in front of the numerous beer- 
 shops with hands in trousers' pockets. A more hope- 
 less, cheerless aggregation of wage-workers I hope 
 never to see — unclean-looking, as though they slept in 
 their clothes; lacking in self-respect. And this holds 
 good throughout the country wherever I went. Of 
 course I am not speaking of skilled workmen —never 
 came in contact with any workman wearing overalls — I 
 refer to the "navvies," the common laborers. In and 
 about IyOudon they were everywhere in evidence. 
 Their costumes bear evidence of being the cast-off gar- 
 ments of "all sorts and conditions of men," and fre- 
 quently include every variety of plug-hats and swallow- 
 tail coats, all in the last stages of dilapidation, of course. 
 Poor creatures. I observed among them men of ad- 
 vanced age, and some mere boys, working side by side 
 with looks so woe-begone, hopeless, that they haunted 
 me into the night. You can not get the average English- 
 man of well-to-do class to discuss the under-world 
 where these poor battle for the crumbs from the rich 
 man's table. It resembles our grave problems as to 
 the "negro." They all dodge it, afraid to face it. 
 They agree in claiming that the solution is " too big a 
 thing" to tackle just now. 
 
 The most noted object of interest in Pontypool is 
 the noble park of the Hanbury-Leigh family. It is of 
 
Caerleon and Pontypool 
 
 vast extent and very beautiful; has been in possession 
 of this family ever since the days of "Queen Bess." In- 
 deed, the town owes its importance to the iron works 
 established by said Hanbury family, originally from 
 Worcestershire. Capel Hanbury settled at Pontypool 
 about 1565 and founded the iron works. The greater 
 impulse, however, came through Major John Hanbury, 
 born in 1664. He invented the method of rolling iron 
 plates by means of cylinders, and also the art of tinning 
 in England, and successfully made imitation of so- 
 called "Japan ware," which held its place for nearly 
 one hundred years in Europe, and was known as 
 "Pontypool ware." Major Hanbury had a liberal 
 education: was bred to the law; his mind had great 
 scope; did not follow his profession; was one of the 
 executors of the great Duke of Marlborough; he died 
 1734. Capel Hanbury assumed the name of Leigh in 
 consequence of the will of the late Lord Leigh, who 
 devised him his property — a great estate. Suffice to 
 add that I now settled upon Pontypool as a base for 
 investigating the antiquities at Caerleon. This town 
 was the site of Isca Silurum, the principal Roman fort- 
 ress, and was long occupied by the second Augustian 
 legion. * * * The relics comprise numerous sculp- 
 tures, altars, pavements, coins and other antiquities, 
 with immense quantities of Roman bricks with the in- 
 scription "L E G. II A.V.G." The shape of the Ro- 
 man fortress is oblong, and the sides inclose a circum- 
 ference of about 1800 yards. The ampitheater is close 
 to the banks of the river Usk, and there was a cele- 
 brated castle, parts of which still exist, occupied the 
 space between the south wall of the town and the Usk, 
 and the mount on which stood the citadel is 300 
 
Can/con and Pontypool 1 1 
 
 yards in circumference at the base, and of considerable 
 height. 
 
 From the top of the eminence the wild and beauti- 
 ful environs of Caerleon appear to great advantage. 
 :■: -.;: * * * Soon after the departure of the Ro- 
 mans Caerleon figures in the pages of romance as the 
 metropolis of the British Empire and the residence of 
 the renowned "Arthur" and his "Knights of the 
 Round Table." "Arthur" is supposed to have flour- 
 ished in the sixth century, but everything connected 
 with his reign and achievements, birth, life, and death 
 are uncertain — say, even incredible. The Roman 
 ampitheater is still pointed out as "Arthur's Round 
 Table." * * * 
 
 Caerleon is celebrated also as a noted seat of learn- 
 ing, and is pre-eminent in the annals of the Church. 
 
 And now, lest some zealous archaeologist stumble 
 across this journal and, moved by the above graphic 
 details, in behalf of science should be tempted to 
 undertake an expensive journey across the sea to Caer- 
 leon to view the "old landmarks" and ancient relics 
 for himself, I warn him now that he " may be disap- 
 pointed," as I failed to discover them — mayhap on ac- 
 count of the rain, the roads and fields in that vicinity 
 being under water at the time of my visits. The 
 average annual rainfall thereabouts I learned was 26 
 inches. According to my judgment, gained by experi- 
 ence, my "guess" would be 26 feet, not inches. How- 
 ever, even should the weather favor your investiga- 
 tions, you would fail of your purpose without a guide; 
 none to be found when I was there who claimed to 
 know anything helpful to our quest. I was informed 
 that the rector of the parish church was a ' ' scholarly 
 
12 Caerleon and Pontypool 
 
 man " and could put me in the way of satisfying my 
 inquiries. To call upon him, however, under the cir- 
 cumstances, in such weather, would have been an out- 
 rage, and I refrained. As to the citizens whom I ap- 
 proached on the subject of the local history, the best 
 information I was enabled to obtain I give below. It 
 may appear presumptuous, but I came away with the 
 conviction that I had acquired more knowledge of Caer- 
 leon and its antiquities in reading up for this trip than 
 could be obtained from the average native. That it ever 
 was the site of a Roman camp is not generally accepted 
 I am impressed. One respectable tradesman of ven- 
 erable aspect, whom I approached on the subject, 
 answered: "Ah! Indeed! A Roman Camp? Very 
 likely; very likely; but that was long ago. I have 
 heard summat of the kind, and tells my people, al- 
 ways, that the Pope of Rome will rule over England 
 yet if they don't look alive." As I did not know what 
 else to reply, and be polite, I answered, "Very true," 
 and let it go at that. To explain: 
 
 "And still the wonder grew — 
 
 Hon' one poor head could carry all he knew.'' ' 
 
 The weather, as already stated, still unfavorable for 
 sight-seeing. By unexpected good fortune I chanced 
 upon a resident of the town at my hotel, friendly dis- 
 posed. As a rule, the English suspect that you have 
 "something up your sleeve" if approached without a 
 voucher as to your standing, respectability, etc. In 
 the course of our conversation, the gentleman discover- 
 ing my purpose in the premises, he deplored the fact 
 that no local history of late date was available. He 
 kindly volunteered, however, to place his library— con- 
 
Caerleon and Pontypool 13 
 
 nected with his law office — at my disposal during the 
 rest of my sojourn in the place. Of course I gladly 
 availed myself of the generous offer. It proved to be 
 a fine collection — choice, not large — many quaint vol- 
 umes. I need hardly say that I spent a very agreeable 
 afternoon amidst these " silent friends" with none to 
 disturb or "make us afraid," with the result that what 
 I have here dished up and incorporated in my journal 
 already given, I gathered in from my researches of that 
 one afternoon. Everthing pertaining to Caerleon and 
 to the Hanbury-Leigh family are transcripts from old 
 volumes, none less than one hundred years old. It is 
 my sole departure from a resolve made at the outset 
 not to pad my journal with extracts from guide books. 
 However, I got so interested in my researches in re- 
 gard to the Hanbury-Leigh family, that I would gladly 
 have returned to the quest, only that my time was too 
 limited. There was, according to the volumes I con- 
 sulted, a certain " Hanbury Williams," head of one 
 branch of this family, more noted than any I have men 
 tioned. And another interesting disclosure: a claim 
 that Oliver Cromwell was of this family. In other 
 words, that Cromwell's family name was Williams; that 
 Cromwell was the name of a valuable estate which this 
 branch of the family inherited, when they dropped the 
 family name and took the name of the estate — not un- 
 common in England. Money talks everywhere. 
 
 Newport, only four or five miles from Caerleon, is 
 a seaport of considerable importance, with a population 
 rising one hundred thousand. I passed through it in 
 the rain. Rain, rain, rain, always rain. We drove 
 through the principal thoroughfares. When I say 
 " we" I refer to "Tom," of the Crown Hotel, Ponty- 
 
1 4 London 
 
 pool, coachman, as "second party." We put up our 
 team at one of the principal hotels and took luncheon 
 and fed the horses, hoping for an abatement of the 
 storm; failing in this, took a drive on the water front, 
 docks, etc., and then returned to Pontypool, ten miles, 
 said to be a pleasant drive in fine weather. The rain 
 remained with us all the way, and I resolved to take 
 the train for London tomorrow morning. 
 
 London, Thursday, 22nd. 
 From Pontypool took train for London about 7 a. m. 
 A dismal day; country generally under water. Did not 
 note any town of importance en route. Arrived at Pad- 
 dington station at 6:30 p. m. Took quarters at An- 
 drews' Hotel, Guilford, i.e., Russell Square. Shades 
 of " Vanity Fair": Becky Sharp, Amelia Sedley, dear 
 old Dobbins and others attracted me thither. May their 
 shadows never grow less. What horrid weather — rains 
 all the time. This family hotel has an agreeable, home- 
 like appearance. Too gloomy for prospecting. After 
 a cup of tea and light repast went to bed. Good night. 
 
 Friday, 23rd. 
 
 I must forego details, have been too diffusive I 
 discover. I can not do much more than to giveJist of 
 places visited. 
 
 Fog and rain. To British Museum and Madam 
 Tussauds. It was too dark to see anything with sat- 
 isfaction in the museum. 
 
 Saturday, 24th. 
 
 Horrid weather; worse than yesterday. To St. 
 Paul's Cathedral in the morning in time to participate 
 in divine service, which I sincerely enjoyed, grateful 
 for the privilege. 
 
London 1 5 
 
 To the Tower of London in the afternoon — climb- 
 ing the stairs almost too much for me. However, saw 
 the regalias, draperies, crown jewels and other things 
 of beauty. Notwithstanding the rain, the fog, and the 
 gloom, I found that I had to elbow my way through 
 a dense throng— in the jewel room very especially — not 
 much courtesy either. I was rudely thrust aside by 
 well dressed persons of both sexes on several occasions. 
 Visited also the rooms containing the rare collections 
 of armor and other relics of battles, war and strife — 
 armor worn by many noted historic personages, whose 
 names have been familiar to you ever since your school 
 days. And it is curious the interest this evokes. Again, 
 the armor, shields, battle-axes and other accessories 
 are fresh and bright — some polished so that you might 
 see your face reflected therein. But all sorts of fire- 
 arms have an ancient aspect, corresponding with their 
 age. On the whole the Tower interested me, despite 
 the gloom and a sense that you are in a cavern most of 
 the time. 
 
 Sunday, 25th. 
 
 Had intended to attend divine service at Old 
 Temple Church, but the services were about closing 
 when I arrived so did not go in, but went by under- 
 ground railway to Hammersmith and thence to New 
 Richmond, but the rain made it impracticable to move 
 about on foot at either place so returned to London 
 and strolled along the Strand. "Looked up" Arundel 
 street, where very dear friends had at one time stopped 
 over at a pleasant family hotel. Thought I might 
 recognize it, had heard so much about it, but failed. 
 'Tis but a short street, running from the Strand to the 
 Thames embankment, but it is given up to small, neat 
 
1 6 London 
 
 hotels and all looked alike to me; had to give it up. 
 It was some satisfaction to have found the street — to 
 know that you had followed in their footsteps. Say! 
 
 Monday, 26th. 
 
 Grand and noble Westminster Abbey. Attended 
 morning services and rejoiced; never more deeply im- 
 pressed; was quite elated. Despite the gloom without, 
 there was sunshine within. You felt. And the music 
 was grand — in harmony with the noble surroundings. 
 Subsequently to the Parliament Building and West- 
 minster Palace, both in the immediate vicinity, where 
 fine bronze statue of Oliver Cromwell graces that grand , 
 historic spot. Yes, Parson Jasper, "The world do 
 move," only bide your time. To Nelson Square, 
 only a short distance, with noble monument, etc., all 
 worth seeing, but the dcwu-pouring rain compelled me 
 to seek shelter. In self-defence took refuge in the 
 Hypodrome, where a matinee performance was just on. 
 Fine entertainment; noble building; house packed like 
 sardine-box — and they say 'tis so at every performance, 
 all the year 'round. 
 
 The performance was a curious melange, compris- 
 ing a Country Circus, Tony Pastor's Variety and Music 
 Hall, all rolled into one. I paid two shillings-foj- a seat 
 up near the roof, in the gallery. It was " Hobson's 
 choice" when I got there. The prices for lower part 
 of house compare with our Grand Opera rates. No 
 wonder that 'tis claimed to be the best paying place of 
 public amusement in all London, and has been so for 
 a period of about twenty years. 
 
 Tuesday, 27th. 
 By underground railway to Shepperds-Bush ; thence 
 by electric road (trolley) to Hampton Court. This is 
 
London 1 7 
 
 one of the most interesting and attractive places in 
 all England: the grounds, the buildings and furniture, 
 to say nothing of the noble works of art — paintings, 
 statuary, tapestries, etc. — have exceptional interest 
 from their historic associations. Cardinal Woolsey, 
 Henry YIII and William and Mary, (William of 
 Orange) , were severally identified with Hampton Court 
 as a royal residence. A rainy day. 
 
 Wednesday, 28th. 
 
 This constant gloomy weather is very discouraging; 
 depressing. 
 
 Did not attempt any notable sight-seeing today; 
 too dismal for anything. Devoted it to a stroll on the 
 Strand, Fleet street, and other principal thoroughfares, 
 despite the rain — getting used to it. Expect to " cry 
 for it" when I get back home. * * * * * * * 
 Attended Ballad Concert at 8:00 p. m. at St. James' 
 Hall, " Thirty-Eighth Anniversary" (so advertised). 
 And its popularity was assured. "Standing Room 
 Only" greeted me, although I was there in advance of 
 "schedule time." However, I "stood it" for one 
 half hour, when my old legs gave out. St. James' 
 Hall is one of the largest of the kind in London, yet it 
 was "packed to the ceiling." Places of amusement of 
 high grade all well patronized over there, I am im- 
 pressed. And the prices for choice seats, I think, rule 
 higher than with us. Richard II — of Shakespere — 
 very elaborately mounted, with noted company of per- 
 formers, had been running at one of the best theaters 
 (Manager Tree) for some months when I was there, 
 and it was "Standing Room Only" when I sought ad- 
 mission. I did not care to repeat my experience of a 
 "seat in the gallery," as at Hypodrome. 
 
1 8 l.o)i do n 
 
 Thursday, 29th. 
 A not very well defined ray of sunshine tempted 
 me, and I took in Hyde Park, Buckingham Palace, 
 and St. James Park. All London seemed to be sim- 
 ilarly inclined. They came from every quarter — on 
 foot, in the saddle, with carriages galore. I wondered 
 for a time if 'twas going to be "Standing Room Only" 
 again. There were some fine turnouts; the people 
 well dressed and cheery of aspect. I enjoyed the scene 
 hugely. In the afternoon to Temple Church (Temple 
 Court). Noticed the grave of Oliver Goldsmith. It 
 is a very simple affair — modest as himself. What a 
 charm there is in everything connected with Gold- 
 smith's character and writings. 
 
 Friday, 30th. 
 
 To Regents Park and Zoological Gardens. The 
 morning cold and damp. 
 
 The grounds, attractive. Was not much impressed 
 by the exhibit. I think it much over-rated. When 
 this thing was new, say one hundred years ago, and 
 more, and a novelty, it was regarded as the " Eighth 
 Wonder," etc., and the "old time" prestige still 
 attaches to the place. You accept it in the same spirit 
 as you do the "Thirty-Nine Articles. ' ' In other words, 
 we are not to question it. The exhibits are spread over 
 too much ground — too widely separated. I found it 
 very wearisome. See catalogue of the exhibits. 
 
 Saturday, 31st. 
 
 Made early start, with the sun feebly struggling to 
 
 keep back the fog and rain. My destination, the Crystal 
 
 Palace; the distance, probably thirty miles, by steam 
 
 railway; fare, 1 and 8; admission and program, 1 and 
 
London 1 9 
 
 4 (meaning shillings and pence). The place has some 
 attractive features, of course, with a good deal of 
 tawdry country circus, including the side-shows and slot 
 machines galore; and you have the drama melodrama 
 a la Bowery, also the legitimate, duly labeled and 
 served up on the installment plan at stated intervals 
 afternoon and night. As the sun gave up the battle 
 and the rain came down in torrents, after a light lunch 
 returned to Russell Square with a sense that one can- 
 not long retain their self-respect under conditions im- 
 posed by this wretched climate, so went to bed. This 
 winds up October, so dismal hereabouts, the ideal 
 month at home. 
 
 Sunday, Nov. 1st. 
 Took cars for South Kensington at 9:00 a. m. to find 
 that the Museum does not open on Sundays until 2:00 
 p. m., so gave it up. Took a return 'bus to Bank of 
 England and vicinity, which includes the Royal Ex- 
 change, the Mansion House — residence of " Ye L,ord 
 Mayor of ' London-town.' " Despite the gloom, etc., 
 took in the principal objects of interest, and got in 
 another "full day" after a fashion. I omitted to speak 
 of the Thames Embankment. I followed it for two or 
 three miles today. It is grand — so many noble build- 
 ings front upon it; some of the most imposing monu- 
 ments, also. But it is something of a task to take in 
 all these sights on foot, and to jot them all down in 
 my journal when my task is done, I confess is almost 
 too much for my endurance at times. 
 
 Monday, 2nd. 
 Devoted this day to business, having concluded to 
 go over to Paris for a few days. To this end went to 
 
20 London 
 
 office of "Thos. Cook & Son," Cheapside, where I 
 made satisfactory arrangements and, to use the cus- 
 tomary phrase here, was " booked " for the trip for to- 
 morrow morning via Calais and Dover, and exchanged 
 £5 English for French money. 
 
OFF TO PARIS. 
 
 Tuesday, 3rd. 
 Left London for Dover from Holborn Viaduct 1 1 :oo 
 a. m., with promise of fair weather. But all signs fail 
 over here: the rain and fog are always "on tap," — 
 never fail. The fog was so dense at Dover that the 
 celebrated Dover Cliffs were not visible. Had pleasant 
 trip across the Channel, save the rain. The fog again 
 descended as we approached Calais, and we had to 
 sound our fog-whistle every few minutes and were de- 
 layed considerably thereby. Calais, like Dover, I failed 
 to see, to recognize again. Time from Dover to Calais, 
 a little rising one hour. Here passed customs examina- 
 tions in the rain, but I was not required to open my 
 baggage. We must have been over an hour behind 
 time in getting to Paris at about 8:00 p. m. Had a 
 " hot-box" between London and Dover, which caused 
 a delay of some 40 minutes at Folkstone. It was such 
 a dark, stormy night, with heavy rain, that I, in com- 
 mon with scores of others, took cpuarters at Hotel 
 Buffet, Gare du Nord. My apartment was so gorgeous, 
 superbly elegant, with canopy and curtains of silks and 
 velvets, with alcove — all of such liberal proportions, 
 too. Add to this a bright wood fire, unlimited fuel, 
 and, as I mentally footed up these luxuries, after par- 
 taking of an excellent dinner, I sort of dreaded the 
 ' ' little bill ' ' which I would have to face next morning. 
 "Grand Hotels" did not enter into my calculations 
 when I planned my outing. However, I resolved to face 
 the music when the morning came. President Lincoln's 
 advice, "not to cross the bridge until you come to it," 
 I acted upon. Went to bed under that gorgeous canopy 
 
22 Paris 
 
 of silk, lace and velvet, amidst splendors fitted for a 
 king — enjoyed it too. You see there was a spice of 
 humor in the situation: only an ordinary "Florida 
 Cracker" occupying that royal apartment. And he 
 slept right royally until 8:00 a. m. The "little bill," 
 with tips to servants, with morning coffee — no early 
 breakfast in Paris — did not overtax my resources after 
 all, and I look back with pleasure to my one night's 
 sojourn amidst royal surroundings at Hotel Buffet, 
 Gare du Nord, etc. 
 
PARIS. 
 
 Hotel de Loudres et Milan, 
 Wednesday, 4th. 
 Took up my quarters as above. It is centrally lo- 
 cated, within a few minutes' walk of Place Vendome, 
 Church of the Madeleine, and one of the best markets. 
 Family hotel; everything clean, bright and attractive. 
 Mine-host "Kohlman" speaks "good English" and 
 is, I think, an "Alsatian." Had looked for sunshine 
 over here, yet the sky was overcast — another gloomy 
 day. However, I engaged a guide, a bright young 
 chap, who had once lived in New Orleans, ahoin Phila- 
 delphia; rather under size, but neat in appearance; 
 name, D. Diassou. I am to pay him 7 francs a day 
 and expenses, of course. Mr. Kohlman vouched for 
 him. Although his services were to begin tomorrow, 
 he invited me to take a stroll in the immediate neigh- 
 borhood, which included Place Vendome, the Church 
 of the Madeleine, also the Grand Opera House, with 
 other objects of interest. I was so gratified by my 
 walk that we were absent about three hours, and, al- 
 though my guide at first declined any compensation, I 
 would not have it that way— so soon after leaving my 
 regal apartments at Hotel Buffet; I felt that I must 
 come down gradually, on the installment plan as it 
 were. It was a happy resolution; I won the heart of 
 my guide completely I at once recognized, and Mr. 
 Kohlman confirmed it that night in our conversation. 
 At 7:00 o'clock dinner found pleasant company. Table 
 d'hote service I am not partial to, yet everything goes 
 with me. I did not come over to Europe to find fault, 
 complain because things are different from our own 
 
•4 
 
 Paris 
 
 country. Even the weather, bad as it has been, I growl 
 over inwardly, as a rule. When I have occasionally 
 "spoken out in meeting" in England, I have been told, 
 and properly, that I was at fault in coming over at this 
 season, when fog, rain and gloom are in order, in a 
 word, are to be expected. 'Tis seasonable weather, and 
 the people, seemingly enjoy it. I wanted to be polite, 
 but I could not go as far as that; I just held in and 
 took it out in " thinking." 
 
 Thursday, 5th. 
 Bright sunshine at latt; a lovely morning; suggests 
 Florida in winter; so glorious for an outing. At 8:00 
 A. m. to Versailles by electric railway, sixteen miles; a 
 delightful ride. The people of the wage-class impress 
 me more favorably than the English of same class; 
 exhibit more self-respect; are more cleanly, better clad, 
 more cheery of aspect. Am not going to attempt a de- 
 scription of Versailles or its surroundings, where I 
 spent about five hours, devoted mainly to the noble 
 galleries or paintings, statuary and tapestries, where 
 one could spend weeks profitably, with leisure. I am 
 doing this thing on the quick-lunch plan: I simply grab 
 the most tempting thing I see and rush for my train, 
 and I find that I have to be spry about it, or get left; 
 my train as limited, and it tests my endurance, and 
 here suggest that a day of ' 'sight-seeing' ' is hard work 
 to many in active life, with years unimpaired before 
 them, while I am taking up the burdens daily near the 
 close of my pilgrimage. That my feet occasionally 
 grow weary, goes without saying, yet I am never dis- 
 couraged. The keeping up of this journal I find the 
 most trying. Only that I resolved at the outset to keep 
 it in the form of a diary, requiring daily entry, I know 
 
Paris 
 
 25 
 
 now that I never would have kept it up. Returned from 
 Versailles via the Boulevards. We profit greatly by- 
 varying our routes in this manner. I adopted it when 
 in England. Had a pleasant day and enjoyed it de- 
 spite the fatigue. We put in a full day and must have 
 walked many miles. Versailles is vast in its propor- 
 tions and the temptation to over-do is great — always 
 something more worth seeing just ahead. And then, 
 the all-day sunshine, who could resist it? 
 
 Friday, 6th. 
 Another bright day. Colder than yesterday. My 
 guide reports frost this morning. Went to Notre Dame 
 Cathedral, and I was glad that I was familiar with Vic- 
 tor Hugo's novel of this name — good as a guide-book. 
 I had read it when a boy, and re-read it only a few 
 years since, hence the Cathedral was of great interest 
 to me apart from its grandeur and beauty. The spirit 
 of sweet Ksmeralda seemed to pervade the place, add- 
 ing to its other charms. * * To the Morgue, where 
 five corpses were exposed — three males and two fe- 
 males. One of each sex had committed suicide. It was 
 a dismal sight. No details as to the others. Thence 
 to the Tomb of Napoleon. Grand beyond my power 
 to describe. It is not simply a tomb, however, it is a 
 grand temple. The enclosed tomb is of secondary im- 
 portance in comprehending this lovely work of art. 
 Thence took in the High Tower at the last Exposition 
 grounds; also to view the Washington and Lafayette 
 monuments — Place de Etats Unis, and to the Arc de Tri- 
 omphe, the Grand Boulevards, and Champs Elysees. 
 Wound up this busy day on Boulevard Hausman Elec- 
 tric railway for return. Had started out by tube rail- 
 way and omnibus. 
 
26 Paris 
 
 Saturday, 7th. 
 
 To Hotel de Ville, the Bank of France, the Bourse, 
 and the great Market of Paris, which pervades French 
 literature — Zola made it the theme of one of his latest 
 novels. It is surprising what an interest is added by 
 visiting the localities made familiar to you by reading, 
 even though it may have been fiction, romances and 
 dime novels. This glorious weather I find has stimu- 
 lated my movements too much — cannot keep up the 
 pace of last two clays. " Make haste slowly" is a good 
 maxim. This thought came to me on returning from 
 the Church of Montmartre, said to occupy the highest 
 grounds in all Paris — commands the whole city and en- 
 virons in fine weather. We must take this on hearsay. 
 The fog descended just as we got there and obscured 
 everything within a few hundred yards. You ascend 
 to the church by inclined plane. The church is not old. 
 It is very beautiful — is probably noted in someway, of 
 which I was ignorant, as was my guide. From church 
 descended to the common level, and within a short dis- 
 tance visited the grandest department store in the 
 world, in other words, " Magasins Dufayal." It is of 
 vast proportions — a veritable palace, lovely as a dream. 
 The interior display comprises all that we are familiar 
 with in connection with department stores, with more: 
 is finer; more imposing; more art; with evidences of a 
 lavishness of expenditure of which we have hardly a 
 conception, and includes a charming theater with a 
 seating capacity of from 200 to 300, where daily per- 
 formances, I was informed, are given every afternoon 
 at certain seasons of the year. 
 
 In afternoon to the L,ouvre, and to the Tuileries 
 Art Galleries: grand collection of the works of Rubens 
 
Paiis 27 
 
 and of Van Dyck, only recently opened to the public. 
 Noble display, if one only had time. However, I en- 
 joyed what I was able to take in. 
 
 Sunday, 8th. 
 A lovely morning. Went to the Church of the 
 Madeleine. Special services. All Paris seemed to turn 
 out for the occasion. It was "standing room only" 
 again, with a multitude outside. I managed to get in 
 the church, which was gorgeous in decorations, and 
 it is a grandly beautiful edifice. It is one of the noted 
 churches of Paris. Being in close proximity to the 
 Grand Opera House, one of the noblest buildings in 
 the world, and the Statue Vendome — all fronting on 
 the Grand Boulevards — the aggregation constitutes the 
 immediate vicinity as one of the most attractive to the 
 tourist of all Paris. I desired to hear the music, which 
 was one of the main attractions of the church, but find- 
 ing it impossible to obtain a seat, gave it up and, with 
 my guide, by electric cars to Pere la Chase Cemetery, 
 recalling the dear friends whose footsteps I had fol- 
 lowed when practicable since leaving home, who had 
 so often described this place to me, hence parts of it 
 seemed familiar. We only spent a couple of hours 
 within the grounds. Here engaged an open cab — as 
 attractive a vehicle as my guide could find — as I had 
 resolved that this afternoon was to round up my trip 
 to Paris. My purpose was to see the gay Parisians in 
 their best bib and tucker taking their regular Sunday 
 afternoon outing on the Boulevards, Champs Elysee 
 and Bois de Boulogne. The weather was charming, 
 was fortunate in our rig, and the driver was as stylish 
 as were the horses. The hotel Buffet need not be 
 ashamed of it's one-night guest should they chance to- 
 
28 Paris to London 
 
 meet this lovely afternoon. * * I shall not attempt 
 a description of that afternoon's outing: the multitudes 
 of well-dressed people a-foot, in the saddle, and all sorts 
 and variety of vehicles of better class, the gorgeous 
 liveries, etc. Of course the great majority — all the 
 pedestrians — were wage-earners, working people of all 
 grades. The French are certainly a self-respecting 
 people — I never was more favorably impressed by any 
 people — in dress and manner giving evidence of good 
 taste and refinement. Taking it as a whole, it was 
 something to remember: brilliant, inspiring, not a 
 single drawback, everything in harmony with the per- 
 fect day — all sunshine. Yet I was informed that it was 
 only the ordinary Sunday afternoon turn-out in pleas- 
 ant weather. In returning to our hotel the guide 
 pointed out some "notable objects" as he supposed, 
 viz. : The residences of J. Pierpont Morgan, the Van- 
 derbilts, and other American magnates. They failed 
 to interest me, however, but w 7 as impressed by the 
 Parliament Houses, and very especially by the Place 
 de Concord — nothing I had yet seen more attractive. 
 And there were still remaining some interesting build- 
 ings, relics, etc., of the late great Exposition. But the 
 noble bridge across the Seine — erected in honor of and 
 in commemoration of the visit of the Czar of Russia, 
 the grandest of all the bridges in Paris — is a perma- 
 nent structure. Save the Tomb of Napoleon this im- 
 pressed me the most. The noble bronze statue of Joan 
 of Arc is quite near. Like Cromwell, she was late in 
 getting recognition. 
 
 Monday, 9th. 
 Cold, gloomy morning; dense fog. Left Paris via 
 Gare du Nord for London 9:45 a. m. via Calais and 
 
London 29 
 
 Dover. Had about the same weather throughout as 
 we had in going to Paris. Arrived at Victoria Station 
 5:30 p. m. Took up my former quarters — Russell 
 
 Square. 
 
 "No sun — no moon — 
 
 No sunny afternoon; 
 
 No- J r em&er." 
 
 (With apology to the shade of Tom Hood.) 
 
 Tuesday, 10th. 
 As this is another dismal day of fog and drizzle, I 
 took advantage of it to recuperate. Had a long day 
 yesterday. Was weary. 
 
 Wednesday, nth. 
 Of course it rained. Made another trip to British 
 Museum with same results, i. e., too dark to see with 
 satisfaction. Thence to Mudie's Library. Bought a 
 map of London and some guide books. Mudie's is 
 great book mart, not a mere library, only a short dis- 
 tance from British Museum. It must do a vast busi- 
 ness, yet the attendants did not impress me as being 
 familiar with books. Two books I asked for, viz.: 
 "The Howell Letters" and "Life of Tate Wilkinson, 
 Actor and Manager," yet the young man who waited 
 on me had no knowledge of the books or their authors; 
 was disposed to put me off with scant politeness- -sort 
 of "know it all," ' :< something-just-as-good " air. As 
 this did not seem to work when I answered, "If you 
 do not know, suppose you try to find out." How many 
 other clerks were consulted, I have no idea, but it 
 turned out finally to be a sort of "fifteen puzzle" until 
 a venerable appearing personage came forward and 
 
30 London 
 
 told me that " Howell Letters" would soon appear in a 
 new edition and "The Life of Tate Wilkinson" was too 
 rare a book to find in the stock of any book dealer; if 
 found the price would be high, etc., which was all sat- 
 isfactory, of course. 
 
 Thursday, 12th. 
 This weather being a chronic complaint, I suppose I 
 should not always be growling over it. Did some shop- 
 ping, despite the down-pour. Bought several dozen 
 cheap photo mailing cards and mailed some, then 
 booked passage for New York at the office of Thos. 
 Cook & Son , 8 1 Cheapside E. C. , by steamer ' ' Mesaba, ' ' 
 Atlantic Transportation Line, to sail Thursday, Nov. 
 19, '03, from Tillbury Docks via St. Pancras Station: 
 my stateroom No. 37, berth No. 2. 
 
 Friday, 13th. 
 Did not venture out, save to local postoffice; was 
 going to say on account of the rain — change to 
 "weather" for "goodness' sake!" a common expres- 
 sion I find over here, and I rather like it. 
 
 Saturday, 14th. 
 Rained all day, yet I went to National Portrait 
 Gallery, St. Martins Place. Gloomy as the place was, 
 I was delighted with what I did see, and I shall value 
 my catalogue. What a satisfaction it is to be brought 
 face to face with these great historic personages. Re- 
 gretted to find so much space devoted to the kings' 
 mistresses, yet they were certainly very attractive. 
 
 Sunday, 15th. 
 To Paddington Station, aiming to go to Windsor — 
 "Windsor Castle" I must see, if I have to walk there. 
 
London 31 
 
 Found that I was too late for train, 10:00 a. m., and 
 no other train until 2:00 p. m. — too late for these short 
 days. I begin to realize how short the days are over 
 here. This, with the fogs, enables these people lots of 
 time to "snooze" the idle hours away. As this was 
 about the brightest day I had found in England, the 
 sun actually in evidence — occasionally — I was disap- 
 pointed, which was sill} 7 , as the fog and the rain put 
 in an appearance about noon. However, I made the 
 best of it on top of an omnibus. Made a business of 
 it despite the drizzle. Took a seat alongside the driver 
 — a sociable chap and interesting in a way: pointed out 
 ever}* object of interest to me, and finally, I fear, talked 
 me out of a half-crown of lawful money on the plea of 
 a sick wife and hungry children. As he was excep- 
 tionally well up in flesh, with a highly decorated nose 
 that must have cost a good deal for coloring matter, 
 and as he was so cheery and laughed so heartily, when 
 not reciting his pitiful tale of woe, I ought to have 
 suspicioned that I was being "worked." But after all, 
 say, there was nothing in his story. It was good act- 
 ing, and worth the money. A guest at the hotel, a law- 
 yer — barrister — that evening, whose attention I invited 
 to the exceptional hard fate which seemed to threaten 
 this unfortunate family, wife and children to go to the 
 poorhouse, etc., made me quite happy when he sug- 
 gested that it was probably all a fiction, made of whole 
 cloth, and that my half-crown was, no doubt, converted 
 into beer at the first tap-room, adding that "he recog- 
 nized you were a foreigner — the story would not have 
 gone down with an Englishman." * * * Brought 
 up at Islington, where I took electric-underground for 
 London Bridge — now being widened by wing for foot- 
 
32 Loudon and Windsor 
 
 passengers; thence by 'bus to Russell Square. * * 
 Seeing London from top of 'bus is popular here — is 
 "the thing." All sorts and conditions patronize the 
 'bus. Of course. There is no help for it. Hence 'tis 
 just as well to make believe that it is agreeable — some 
 claim delightful. Recalls the chestnut about "the crow 
 the man ate, but did not hanker after." To me it was 
 disgusting. You soil your clothes — you cannot touch 
 anything without soiling your hands or gloves. When 
 I cast my eye on that charming young damsel on the 
 opposite seat with a streak of soft-coal smut across her 
 fair brow; and there is her young man has a like 
 smudge side of his nose, I therefore know just how I 
 must look, and lose all my self-respect, and envy the lot 
 of poor Robinson Crusoe on his solitary island where 
 no one can see him. But London has no choice in the 
 matter. No surface railways practicable in those con- 
 gested streets. It is "Hobson's choice" — the omnibus 
 — 'tis popular and cheap. Again the wisdom of cheer- 
 fully accepting conditions impossible to amend is 
 recognized. The English are nothing if not practical. 
 
 Monday, 16th. 
 With promise of a bright day, by Great Western 
 Railway to Windsor; time, about one hour. . A most 
 timely visit: every visible object, adapted to the pur- 
 pose, in gala attire or preparing for it; scores of deco- 
 rators at work; tall masts of vermilion hue on every 
 hand, from which soon gay flags and pennants will be 
 floating in the breeze; and the tapestries, and the 
 draperies, and other decorative features. What a grand 
 sight it was that greeted our eyes as our train ap- 
 proached the ancient town, crowned by the grand and 
 
London and Chelsea 33 
 
 noble castle, I shall forever remember. These prepara- 
 tions (I will add) were all in honor of the King and 
 Queen of Italy, now« route, who will be right royally 
 welcomed here, on the 19th inst., as the guests of their 
 Majesties of England. I devoted the day to the town, 
 the castle, and the grand park — one of the noblest in all 
 England. And what was most inspiring, the weather, 
 for once, kept it's promise. It was a delightful day, 
 with occasional sunshine. This was the most charm- 
 ing day since I left home. From the base of Windsor 
 Castle you command a view of wonderful scope and 
 as beautiful as a dream. Made no attempt to visit the 
 interior of the castle. Rather think 'twas in the hands 
 of the decorators and not open to the public. But 
 Windsor Castle and its surroundings captured me. It 
 is the only place that I long to return to. I could not 
 get "my fill of it," so to speak. Returned to London 
 by Great Eastern Railway, Waterloo Bridge Station. 
 
 Tuesday, 17th. 
 My time is fast drawing to a close, and I have not as 
 yet explored Cheyne Row, where the ghosts of the Car- 
 lyles are supposed to still linger. Took 'bus to Bank 
 of England for Chelsea. A most unpromising day, too, 
 but it is now or never, as I am to take steamer for home 
 the day afttr tomorrow. Although the day was gloomy, 
 all the great thorougfares gay with bunting and other 
 decorations, similar to what I had seen at Windsor, 
 and in honor of the same coming event, viz.: to wel- 
 come the King and Queen of Italy. It was too dis- 
 gusting for anything when the rain came down in tor- 
 rents before we reached Trafalgar Square, with the 
 decorators still at work. I had not supposed that it 
 
34 London and Chelsea 
 
 would be difficult to find the Carlyles' old quarter, 
 where they had lived for upward of one generation. 
 But I discovered the truth as to the status of a Prophet 
 in his own country. The guard on the 'bus responded 
 to my inquiry by repeating, "Thomas Carlyle? What 
 did he do? What was his business? " Again, "How 
 can I know, with so many people of that name. Born 
 in Chelsea?" " Yes, always lived here." "Cheyne 
 Row? " " Yes." " Why did you not say so at first? 
 Everybody knows where Cheyne Row is." "Capt. 
 Cuttle's" old friend, "Jack Bunsby," had, you see, 
 suddenly turned up, and I could hardly refrain from 
 answering with a note of admiration, a la Cuttle, 
 " There's a mind/" It turned out, to my confusion, that 
 there were two "Cheyne Rows" and a "Cheyne 
 Walk," which I stumbled upon, without finding the 
 object of my search, when a post carrier set me right. 
 "But," said he, "you go to ' Great Cheyne Row," 
 and 'tis at No. 24, a white stone set in the front, over 
 the parlor windows, with a ' himage, ' " he called it, 
 " of Mr. Carlyle carved on it, and some reading — 
 something concerning the 'old man,' of course." 
 " No, you can't 'elp finding it." " Yes, a nasty day 
 sir" — the rain was getting in its "best licks" just 
 then. I found the house all right. No doubt the 
 wretched weather influenced, in a measure, the dismal 
 impressions I carried away, and which will ever be 
 associated with the place. But Great Cheyne Row was 
 never a cheery place, to my mind. The houses on 
 both sides of the street — a short, narrow thoroughfare 
 — are of mean aspect, walls of coarse, unpaiuted brick, 
 three-story and deep basement in height. The Carlyle 
 house and next abutting have balconies, otherwise all 
 
London and Chelsea 35 
 
 are alike, without a single attractive feature. A 
 gentleman, passing, informed me that a lady was now 
 in charge of the place "for some society. ' ' That the in- 
 terior was practically unchanged — as the Carlyles left 
 it; many interesting relics, etc., and the charge for ad- 
 mission one shilling, when three or four persons went 
 together; did not know how it might be for only one 
 person, especially on a day like this, etc. I assured him 
 that I had no intention of making the test. "Himage" 
 — bust — of Carlyle, is a cheap, high relief, so grimy 
 and weather-stained that it and the reading matter men- 
 tioned by the mail carrier were hardly visible. The 
 gentleman kindly directed me to foot of street where, 
 near the embankment, I would find Carlyle Park, a di- 
 minutive enclosure, within which a stacue of Thomas 
 Carlyle stands. It is of bronze, of life-size. Carlyle is 
 seated in an arm-chair — the "grim old cynic" — and 
 must say looks very unhappy and, as the rain streamed 
 down his hard-featured countenance, I was impressed 
 that it really faithfully depicted his own unhappy ca- 
 reer, the victim of a life-long disease — chronic dyspepsia 
 — which not only clouded his life, but gave a morbid tone 
 to his writings and blighted his home and antagonized 
 his friendships. With his abnormal self-esteem and 
 powerful will, he was enabled to constrain men superior 
 to him in intellectual powers to bow down to him, yes, 
 to actually debase themselves in his presence — our own 
 Emerson for instance In a word, he forced his con- 
 temporaries to accept him at his own valuation of him- 
 self. Those who refused, he belittled, crushed. The 
 broad charity to "live and let live" he lacked — was 
 narrow, selfish. The late Herbert Spencer, in his re- 
 cently published autobiography, tells some unvarnished 
 
36 Homeward Bound 
 
 truths in support of my estimate of his character which 
 I might have quoted, but refrained. Poor old gentle- 
 man! My last sight of him alone on that pedestal, out 
 in the. rain, I never recall without a feeling that I ought 
 to have left him my umbrella. 
 
 The above winds up my journal. At 9:00 a.m., 
 Thursday, Nov. 19th, left St. Pancras Station, London, 
 by railway for Tillbury Docks, 18 miles from mouth of 
 the Thames — a two hours' ride (as I recall.) About 
 noon into the Thames and away for the broad Atlantic. 
 
 Had a pleasant, uneventful passage over. Reached 
 our dock in New York about noon, Sunday, Nov. 
 19th 1903. Time, just ten days. 
 
ENGLAND AND THE ENGLISH. 
 
 HAYING stuck to my journal thus far, with no 
 thought of publishing; avoiding guide books and 
 padding — save that little episode at Caerleon— and 
 now having resolved, in self-defence, to turn the whole 
 matter over to the printer in order that I may answer, 
 after a fashion, scores of inquiries as to: " Where did 
 you go?" "What did you see?" Again, "How- 
 did you like London? How does it compare with 
 Paris?" and so-forth and so-on. " Please answer," 
 and " Write soon." Hence, it seems to be necessary to 
 add this "tail-piece" — not entirely to satisfy my 
 "anxious enquirers," either: I desire to herein "jot 
 down" some thoughts and reflections suggested by the 
 trip, mainly about England. The English, for obvious 
 reasons, seem nearer to us, have more in common with 
 us, than the French, despite our obligations to the lat- 
 ter — simply to name Lafayette and George the Third 
 explains "the 'why' of it." And it was an American 
 naval commander, on a certain occasion, some sixty 
 years since, who, when he supposed that our "English 
 cousins" were going to get the worst of it in a "scrap" 
 with another power, unlimbered his guns, rolled up 
 his sleeves and made ready for action, saying, "Blood 
 is thicker than water." Fortunately the other power 
 weakened at the critical moment so the test was not 
 made. I speak of it simply to illustrate our relations, 
 feelings and sympathies toward the English people, 
 and when you are over there you can not resist a sense 
 of kinship — that there are ties of unity not to be dis- 
 carded — very especially when you visit those famous 
 
38 England and the English 
 
 historic places, notably: the Tower of London, West- 
 minster Abbey, Hampton Court, and others made fa- 
 miliar to you through your studies, and mayhap 
 through old letters, relics of the times when we were 
 one people — all a reminder that we have a common her- 
 itage; the conviction that our forefathers contributed 
 their share of blood and treasures to enable England to 
 win, own and maintain these grand possessions, relics 
 of a noble past. Again, go to the National Portrait 
 Gallery, London, and if it does not cause your heart to 
 bound I am mistaken — when you gaze upon the count- 
 erfeit presentments there exhibited of the renowned 
 men and women who have made England famous, and 
 you become conscious that you are akin to them. How- 
 ever, the present condition of England impressed me 
 sadly. In a business sense, "John Bull's" affairs 
 should be turned over to a receiver. But I must fore- 
 go politics, but Jack London's book, "The People of 
 the Abyss," came out while I was in London, and The 
 Standard, one of the leading morning papers, very gen- 
 erously gave it a grand "send off," confessed that the 
 deplorable conditions therein described existed, and 
 facts fairly stated by the author, all to be regretted, 
 etc. But, after all, what are we to do about it? Mr. 
 London presents no practical solution, adding, in con- 
 clusion, " Truth is not always welcome. The book is very 
 depressing reading ," and so it is, yet I hope our friends 
 will read it. It is now published in this country — is 
 well worth reading, too. 
 
 Before "going abroad" had heard of the "men- 
 dacity" of a certain class of English servants, their 
 greed for tips, etc. I regret to say that I can now con- 
 firm it, the result of my own experience. More, the 
 
England and the English 39 
 
 truth has not been half told. When it answers their 
 purpose they (these servants) are bold and insolent. 
 At other times cringing, sneaking, sort of please-dont- 
 kick-me-very-hard-sir attitude. " Dishonest ? " Yes, 
 they have no moral sense whatever; are unworthy of 
 even this too-flattering notice. 
 
 I was surprised that Jack London, in dealing with 
 the evils he confronted in London life, overlooked the 
 most to be deplored of all, viz.: the "Beautiful Bar- 
 maid." Nothing in all my experience over there had 
 quite so depressing an effect as the hopeless condition 
 of the class of which the " beautiful barmaid " is the 
 exponent. And there are, it is said, upwards of one 
 hundred thousand of "her" in the United Kingdom 
 — voluntarily, cheerfully, from choice, form but a 
 small percentage, I was informed, of the whole — hence 
 they do not interest us. They are the "Becky Sharps" 
 of the "profession" not "corruptible" because "never 
 pure." From the outset these women have had evil 
 designs upon the other sex; had but one purpose, viz.: 
 to lure young men — of ample means, of course, — to 
 their ruin under the guise of artless innocence. For a 
 brief interval flourish, too, as their "mistresses," and 
 not unf requently end their awful career as ' 'panderers' ' 
 to the lusts of "lecherous old men" of evil passions — a 
 trade of itself in our great cities. I was interested to 
 find that our barmaid shined in certain cheap publica- 
 tions of the Laura Jean Ljbbey school. The books are 
 on sale at the usual news stands, highly colored inside 
 and out — that is, sensational — covers ornate, and stun- 
 ning lithograph, in colors, of the heroine — in this in- 
 stance: "Jane of the Red Lion, Her Struggles and 
 Her Noble Vindication, by the author of 'The Mys- 
 
40 England and the English 
 
 teries of the Tower, or the Clergyman's Daughter.' " 
 There, I have transcribed the cover, directly shall 
 quote a page for the benefit of the gentle reader. For 
 the proper understanding of the story I will here 
 briefly outline the plot. We begin with Sir Hubert 
 Starling, with financial ruin staring him in the face, 
 who marries the only child of Jabez Colderwood, a 
 money lender and miser of shady reputation. The 
 daughter, unsuspected by the father, has a lover who 
 has a wife, also unsuspected by his charmer. Old Cold- 
 erwood loves his daughter after a fashion and, although 
 fully aware that Sir Hubert is at the end of his string 
 financially, and wants his daughter solely for her 
 money, gladty accepts Sir Hubert's offer. Grace, his 
 daughter, rebels of course, and for reasons — only they 
 do not come in at this stage (I am not going to "give 
 the poor girl away"; it is still her secret). Grace Cold- 
 erwood marries Sir Hubert Starling — loving another — 
 and Sir Hubert has neither affection nor regard for the 
 woman he marries. Here you have the "hot-stuff" 
 for a "thriller," as it is called in England, and here it 
 is: On a certain morning "Sir Hubert Starling awakes 
 to the knowledge that he has fallen heir to the vast 
 estates and title, and is now Marquis of Brightlv." * 
 * * * * * We skip details. "The Marquis dis- 
 appears for a few months, when a daughter is born to 
 them. He returns; disowns the child. According to 
 him, his 'Waterbury watch' and a faithful servant, 
 the 'youngster' arrived ahead of schedule time — was 
 a 'sooner' in fact — and he repudiated it, etc., etc. And 
 now we'll skip again. * * * * The child — put 
 out to nurse — is stolen by gipsies, at the instigation of 
 the Marquis, of course. The mother pursued; the gip- 
 
England and the English 41 
 
 sies get alarmed ; the child is abandoned by the road- 
 side "and ultimately lands in the work-house. But 
 'blue blood' will tell. (Don't we remember Marryat 
 and Bulwer.) The work-house could not hold that 
 child. But of course you already have guessed— the 
 waif is our heroine, 'Jane of the Red Lion.' ' And 
 it is of her tribulations in the latter character, before 
 she married the great banker's only son and heir, at 
 page 85, that I begin to read what follows for your 
 benefit. The time is after midnight; place, parlor of 
 the Red Lion Inn; Jane in tears and Landlord Hoggett 
 is in a bad temper and is pacing the floor. * * * 
 
 He— "So so, my girl. You think you have been in- 
 sulted in my house, do you? " 
 
 She— "Surely. Did you not understand? Have I 
 not told you already ? " 
 
 He— "Told me? Fiddlesticks! You come here with 
 
 a 'cock-and-bull' story! 
 
 She "You ought to be ashamed of yourself to use 
 
 such language to me." 
 
 He — "Come, come, now! None of your imperti- 
 nence! It won't go down with me— you will soon find 
 to your sorrow, too. Do you know what I think of 
 
 it?" 
 
 She — " I am sorry to say, I do not sir." 
 He— "Well, well, now! Be a reasonable girl and 
 listen to me, and don't go off 'half cocked' as you 
 have done, and all will come out right. I know this 
 gentleman well. Mr. Gaylark is a highly respectable 
 man of a good family. He is one of my best custom- 
 ers, and I can't afford to lose him, and by God I won't! 
 You know, as well as I, that when himself— there is 
 no finer gentleman, or one more liberal with his money, 
 
42 England and the English 
 
 comes to this house. And now, simply because he 
 chanced to take a drop too much, and for this — have 
 only your word for it. Mind you, I don't say that he 
 did. I must shut the door in his face, must I ? " 
 
 She — "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, after 
 what I have told you. And look at my torn dress, 
 where he tried to force his hand into my bosom. The 
 villain ! ' ' 
 
 He — "Don't attempt any fine lady airs on me, or 
 you will miss it. I won't stand it." 
 
 She — "I wish you would 'put on the airs' of a 'fine 
 gentleman' with me." 
 
 He — "Blast your miserable soul, you 'work-house' 
 brat ! You dare to bandy words with me ? So it has 
 come to this, has it? And it ends it! Now tramp! 
 Out of my sight! Yes! this minute! before I kick you 
 out." * * * * * : ' : * * 
 
 If any "kicking" occurred, there and then, it was 
 not at the expense of our "Jane," you may depend 
 upon it. For, at this stage of the "agony," Clarence 
 Plantagenet Morgan, the banker's noble son, steps in. 
 But why continue? We can all guess the sequel: The 
 grand "send off" at the family mansion — May-Fair. 
 The wedding tour, settling down to the regular thing 
 — a villa on the Lake of Como, etc And we suggest 
 that our author get in some missionary work in the 
 above scene between the landlord of the Red Ljon and 
 Jane, suggesting, as it does, the perils which every one 
 of these unfortunate girls must face frequently in the 
 course of her career, to resent which will cost her her 
 place, such is the logic of the situation. 
 
 I was so outraged, as the full meaning of the sys- 
 tem, wherein only young girls are employed to deal 
 
England and the English 43 
 
 out "Damnation," as John B. Goff was wont to de- 
 nounce the miserable traffic, that I sometimes wondered 
 what those persons who hail from the countries where 
 England still maintains missions for the spread of the 
 gospel, and other soul-saving contrivances — if I may 
 be allowed the expression. As I was about to remark: 
 thousands of such visit England — some have taken 
 up their abode there, are in business —when they come 
 face to face with the civilization, the outcome of a 
 thousand years' teachings of Christianity, with our 
 "beautiful British bar-maid," for an object lesson, 
 what must they think of it? If any one can answer it, 
 in the language of my correspondent referred, "please 
 write soon." 
 
The Record Co. 
 
 ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA, 
 
Oct 31 1904 
 
£,&m*m.S!'.