CHAPTER XXX HOMEWARD BOUND! HE English railway system is as near perfection as possible. No better roadbeds exist, and, as there are no grade crossings, accidents are almost unknown. The only annoying feature is the management of the baggage. Instead of having a check, as in America, and thus being relieved of all responsibility, at each change of cars, one must scramble over piles of baggage, to identify his own, and then watch the porter until he has deposited it in the van. Of course, if one has a maid, as English ladies generally have, it does not matter so much. Liverpool seems to have "turned the cold shoulder" to us, for, ever since our arrival, we have been shivering. If it is chilly here in the middle of August, what must it be in midwinter? But perhaps the ocean is kinder than our lakes. Owing to its proximity to the great coal districts, and to its marvellous docks, Liverpool is one of the most important seaports of the world. Probably no other city has such an extensive roadstead. Thousands of vessels load and unload there, and special docks are set apart for the use of different nations. While looking over some embroidered handkerchiefs in the tiny parlor back of a linen shop, kept by two orphan sisters, I noticed on the wall a view in the gardens of Nymphenburg, near Munich. Stepping up to examine it, I saw the title, "Silence." significant. There were green trees, a stretch of water, and, along the edge, some marble statues, cold and still; not a sign of life. Suddenly, I was awakened from my reverie by the voice of one of the sisters, saying, "Do you know these gardens, Madam?" Learning that I had visited them, she plied me with eager questions. It seemed that the two girls had been reared by their grandmother, a native of Munich, who had recently died. They had often heard her describe the beautiful gardens, and were naturally interested to talk with any one who had lately been there. Wretchedly poor people seem to compose half the population of Liverpool, where there is little of architecture or art to interest. the stranger. St. George's Hall, in the center of the city, is an attempt at the classic style, and, in the midst of this atmosphere of commerce, seems out of place. In front of it are several statues, chief of which is that of the Queen, whose long reign has been one of England's greatest blessings. In her marriage, Victoria was more fortunate than the majority of sovereigns. Albert, Prince Consort, was a thoroughly good man, firm but gentle, princely yet modest, and their union was gladdened by many children. The Queen has nothing to regret. She will leave a noble history behind her, when, some day, she is laid beside her beloved husband, -the record of a pure maidenhood, a loyal wifehood, a devoted motherhood and a distinguished rule. We are on board the Cunarder, Umbria, dear friend, and, while I sit watching the fast receding shores of old England, I will add a few lines to this, my last letter to you, from foreign parts. You will be interested to know what good company we have on board. The Right Honorable Lord Russell and family, of Killowen, and Sir Frank Lockwood and Lady Lockwood are insconced in their chairs within a few rods of ours. It is a pleasure to watch the fine face of Lord Russell light up in conversation. A concert is, as usual, to be given by the passengers, for the benefit of the "Seamen's Charities," and we are told that both these families are to take part. Lord Russell, as you know, is one of the most brilliant judges in England, and we anticipate much pleasure at the entertainment over which he is to preside. There are also several members of the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company, of Boston, on board. This company of gallant Americans has been lavishly entertained by the English nobility, and the whole party are going back to America with the warmest feelings of friendship for their cousins across the water. We have succeeded in carrying out our original plan regarding time, mode of travel and expenses, and looking backward over our long journey, I marvel at such good fortune. It would be difficult to determine where we have enjoyed ourselves the most, for everything has been so interesting. In our wanderings, we have admired the gallantry and courtesy of the Europeans. We are grateful for their invariable kindness. to two lone women. Nevertheless, we are happy beyond measure to know that America is our home,-America, where, with ability, honor and true worth, a man or woman of humble origin may reach the highest position, and, moreover, be received into the best society. For years, Europe has sent her poor, her ignorant, her helpless to charitable America, not caring what became of them, so long as she was rid of the burden. Few educated Europeans really know anything about America, beyond the fact that she has rich mines, Indians, title hunting heiresses, and that Americans spend money lavishly. However, each vessel bound for our shores now carries a few of the better class, and we may hope to be better understood, before many years have passed. My companion is standing not far away, straining her eyes in the direction of the coast. An audacious breeze has caught her veil and torn it from the little steamer cap that covers her bonny, brown hair. As I watch her bright face, I remember afresh what a pleasant time we have had together and how cheery and helpful she has always been. We are both joyfully anticipating our return home,―home, the most precious spot on earth, after all! Your sincere friend, "There is a land, of every land the pride, ADELAIDE. The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, In every clime the magnet of his soul, Touch'd by remembrance, trembles to that pole; And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet. Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found? *James Montgomery. |