emigrants. So far the weather has been charming. We settle ourselves in our steamer chairs in the most deliciously idle and comfortable positions, E. tucks his numerous nice wraps about us, for the air is keen but most wholesomely pure and sweet, and we give ourselves up both body and mind to perfect rest and repose, such as no condition on land can bring. I even find myself wishing that the steamer would not speed on quite so rapidly. I am afraid we shall sight land too soon. On shipboard, the slightest incident becomes to all a matter of great interest. A ship in the distance, or a whale’s back, will cause as much excitement as Barnum’s circus in a country town. We have seen two steamers far away, many sea-gulls and Mother Cary’s chickens, and a school of porpoises followed us a long distance, creating much amusement. We have two dukes on board, a real lord and a lady, but they look very like the rest of us mortals, and seem to do quite as much stretching, yawning, walking, and eating. We have met here several old friends, and have made some new ones. Everybody seems inclined to be agreeable and social. I cannot imagine how any one could ever think a sea voyage dull. I get so interested in all about me, that their interests and purposes become my own. A bright little Cuban miss confided to me that she was going to travel for a year, because her rich father had taken to himself a new companion younger than herself, and she could not stay at home and see the young girl in her mother’s place. We have six school-girls on board with their chaperone, and a jolly good time they are having. School-girls are the same everywhere. A bride and groom sit at table near us, trying to act as if they had been always married, but are really continually revealing their new condition. Ah! ‘the old, old story,’ but ever new. A gentleman from the West, who had been cabled to ‘hurry over—wife sick,’ walks the deck with a face that tells of the sad heart he carries. How we all sympathize with him, and yet are so helpless in comforting him! We had a fine concert in the grand saloon last evening, for ‘sweet charity;’ and many of the ladies honored the occasion by changing their travelling dresses for evening costumes. Mlle. Zelie de Lussan sang two pieces most charmingly, and on encore gave us ‘Coming thro’ the Rye’ and ‘Dors mon ange.’ She is a great favorite with all on board, and no wonder, for she endeavors in her sweet way to add to the happiness of all. She was enthusiastically applauded. We had some fine instrumental music on both violin and piano, and ‘Tony’ Pastor was irresistible in his manner of rendering several comic selections, and very kind to repeat them in acknowledgment of hearty applause. Our young ladies passed around the hats, into which coin was quickly deposited to the amount of over three hundred dollars. Rev. Dr. H., of New York, made a few remarks. He is a forcible, impressive speaker and with a physique equal to our own Trinity Rector. He also has exhibited a commendable spirit in helping make the time pass agreeably for all with whom he has come in contact. Editor P. is also amongst us, leaving his ‘New York World’ behind for a time, but not under a bushel. Our table and the service are excellent: and what gormandizers we are to be sure! Hungry as sharks every meal, notwithstanding the hourly extras of bouillon and crackers on deck, and the daily treats from our own boxes of fruit, wine, and bon-bons. If any one should now ask me ‘What is the chief end of man?’ I should honestly answer, To eat of all, at least, on board our ship. Poor E. looks upon his chest of medicines for sea-sickness as a lost investment; stocks way down—not even a shadow of an excuse yet for opening it. Miss C., the noted beauty, is on board, but her fair face is closely enveloped in veils, that the sun and wind may not be too familiar. One loses much not to take the whole of this blessed, invigorating air, and look out unhampered on the exquisite sky and cloud effects above us, and the artistic blending of blues and greens on the waves beneath.
Liverpool, England, June 17, 1888.—We first saw land yesterday morning, very early. It was a perfect morning, clear and warm, and when we emerged from our state-room and made our way on deck, we found the greater portion of our comrades ahead of us, with their glasses in hand, peering toward the rocky coast of not far away ‘Old Ireland.’ It is a rough, rugged shore, with here and there a lighthouse, built as if to last for ages, on rocks, strong and high, and all colored white with some black trimmings. Occasionally an old castle is seen. The fields of flax, colored with all the shades of green, are very beautiful, and add much to vary the scene.
We have had, as one of our daily companions crossing over, an Irish gentleman of much intelligence and culture. He is a large land-holder, and has a fine home not very far from Dublin; has been travelling some in America, but mostly in the Western States. I have gained much information from him of his country and its people. He was amazed at the extent of our own land, but with all his intelligence could not comprehend everything connected with our divisions of country clearly, and said to me—‘Boston, that city is very near Massachusetts, is it not?’ He admired American ladies, and thought ‘Mrs. Cleveland should reign in Washington longer.’ His brogue was fascinating, and he talked much of the Pot-o-mac River.
In speaking of the poor of his country, I did not hesitate to ask him how he and gentlemen of his kind could endure having the poor so oppressed by the rich landlords; that to me it seemed most cruel. With a sympathetic sigh he replied, ‘If you will visit me, I will show to you more than I can tell you.’
Our big steamer stopped, for the first time, for the passengers who were booked for the ‘Green Isle’ to get on to the little tug which came puffing down from Queenstown, and we said good-by to many of our fellow-voyagers reluctantly. A large mail was thrown on board also for Ireland, carrying undoubtedly happiness and help into many homes.
On again we started, and reached Liverpool at one o’clock A.M. We certainly had a perfect trip over, and the Etruria and her watchful, careful commander, Captain Cook, will have ever a grateful place in my memory. Blessed be the gift of memory! The one thing that holds precious treasures that cannot be taken from us; from which we can at all times summon the delights and joys of the past, without money and without price.
We landed at seven A.M. Were detained but a short time at the Custom-house. The ordeal of examining luggage there, proved much less than we expected; one pleasant official, remarking that he did not wish to disturb my nicely packed bags, would pass them over if I would swear that I had no tobacco or cigars. Hasty good-bys, cards and kisses exchanged, and we were soon whirled to our hotel—the Adelphi. What a transition! We have nice rooms, and a pretty maid, with a demi-trained white cambric dress on, to wait upon us, looking as fresh as a daisy. After breakfast, we went to drive about the city, the largest seaport in the world. The docks are many miles in length. We visited the museum, St. George’s Hall, and looked into one or two churches. The city looks solid and business-like, but not attractive. The suburbs are more so, and have fine trees. No more horse-cars for us, but trams, with seats on top, which we very much like. After luncheon, we crossed the Mersey in a ferry, to Birkenhead, and there took steam cars for Chester, thirty miles away. Chester! old, odd, quaint, red-walled Chester! We hurried to the Cathedral, to be in time for service, which proved to be a choral one, of great beauty and sacredness, and the first words that greeted us were sweetly sung, and impressed us in a stronger way than ever did the same words before:—
‘Jesus shall reign where’er the sun
Doth his successive journeys run;
His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,
Till moons shall wax and wane no more.’
Of this cathedral you have read many descriptions, and yet one can have but little idea of it without seeing it. As I sat in the chancel, and looked about me, I felt as if I belonged to the past. There seemed to be a spirit of antique rest and repose pervading the whole interior. After service, we peeped into the nooks and corners of the old church, and then out into the rich balmy air of this perfect day in June, and walked on the old wall which was built to protect the town. We looked from the windows of the tower, where Charles I. stood and saw his army defeated by Cromwell. How many reminiscences of our lessons in history at school these old towns bring up! An open carriage stood near us, into which we jumped, and were driven through the grounds and to the home of the Duke of Westminster,