Odd Bits of Travel with Brush and Camera — A Closer Reading

child was Born--Luther 313

A PRUSSIAN CAPITAL AND A FASHIONABLE RESORT

We Start for Berlin--Mountain and Valley--Harvesters--Villages--A Great City--Unter den Linden--Kroll Theatre and Garden--The City Streets--The Brandenburg Gate--Potsdam--The Old Palace--Sans Souci--Ostend--A Fashionable Watering-Place--The Promenade--The Kursaal--On the Beach--Bathing Machines--Studies for an Artist--The Race-Course--Sunday--The Winning Horse--Fickle Dame Fortune--The English Channel--A Bureau of Information--Queenstown--An Irish Lass--The Last Stop--The End of the Journey 333

List of Illustrations.

PAGE Canal at Monnikendam (_Frontispiece_)

We feel the heart throbs of old Neptune 17

She proves to be a Barkentine under full sail 22

The sailors in the rigging are swaying to and fro 26

Amongst these are two typical products of the British Isles, 30

This is a fine field for the student of human nature 35

Wayside Inn, New Brighton 39

Typical English houses with their massive thatched roofs 43

Suburban residence 48

White Hall Horse Guards' Barracks 65

A short run of an hour 74

The chalky cliffs of Dover 79

The largest and handsomest Gothic church in the Netherlands 106

The place is intersected everywhere by canals 112

In many cases the balconies of residences overhang the water 117

The belle of the market 123

Wicker chairs offer rest to the weary pedestrian 141

The flat landscape is varied by herds of cattle 152

Most of the houses have a canal at the back 156

The blue stream finds its outlet in the river 161

All persuasions accomplish naught 165

One old woman is fascinated with the camera 170

We walk along the narrow streets 176

Sheep, grazing upon the green pasture lands, form a homelike scene 182

Hotel de Posthoorn 187

De Hooflstraat, Monnikendam 193

There is a young man whose walk is all his own 200

The streets and sidewalks are kept scrupulously clean 204

The whole place is a succession of quaint and picturesque houses 208

At the farthest end of the street stands an old windmill 217

A beautifully shaded walk just outside the town 221

A good road for the bicycle 232

This strange looking highway runs lengthwise through the town 241

The houses are roofed with red tiles 245

The delicate lace caps frame smiling faces 254

As the congregation draws nearer we halt before the foremost group 258

Every man is a volume if you know how to read him 263

Goeden dag. Tot weerziens 267

Lovely walks, and bowery avenues 282

Not far off stands the statue of the artist 287

The great peak known as the Drachenfels, or Dragon Rock 293

How noble and defiant is the appearance of these venerable fortresses 302

Every turn of the river presents a different view 306

Now we behold the little church surrounded by picturesque houses 311

Approaching Bingen we see vineyards covering the mountain side 315

Thousands of fashionably dressed people appear upon this promenade 338

There are many odd and fantastic sights here 342

One's portfolio might soon be filled with interesting subjects 346

Many typical Irish characters come aboard our vessel 350

Several small boats are floating at our side 355

Beyond is all abyss, Eternity, whose end no eye can reach 359

Scenes of the Present and Relics of the Past.

_Scenes of the Present and Relics of the Past._

Passing Vessels--The Ocean--Sudden Changes--Taking Photographs--The Landing Stage at Liverpool--New Brighton--In the Country--Liverpool by Night--Salvationists--Old Taverns--Chester--An English Home--Relics--The Cathedral--The River Dee--Leamington--The River Leam--Warwick Castle--An Old Mill--Through Kenilworth, Coventry and Stoneleigh--"The King's Arms"--Nature's Pictures.

We sight a steamer on our leeward side. A passing vessel is a great excitement on an ocean voyage. From the time when she first appears, a tiny speck on the distant horizon, every one is on deck watching her as she slowly climbs into full view, then draws nearer and nearer to our floating palace. How companionable she seems in the vast waste around us. We wonder to which line she belongs; what is her name; her speed, and whither she is bound: and now that she is within hailing distance, we await eagerly the result of the usual interchange of questions and answers by means of small flags and a certain code of signals, well understood throughout the nautical world. The following are some of the questions asked: "To what line do you belong?" "What is your port?" "Have you seen any icebergs?" "Met any wrecks?" "Are you a tramp?" and so on, until both sides are satisfied, then away she speeds on her course, while the passengers and sailors on both ships gaze at one another through their glasses until they are lost in the distance. The excitement is over, and we all return to our former occupations, or stand looking idly out to sea until once more there is a cry: "A sail! A sail!" and we begin to hope that she too is coming our way. Straining our eyes through the powerful field-glasses, we perceive that she is coming toward us, and will probably cross our line. Larger and larger she appears as she steadily advances, until she attracts the attention of every one on deck. She is now quite close to us, and proves to be a Barkentine under full sail. We shout a greeting to the crew, and wave our handkerchiefs as she passes, and the sailors smile in return and take off their caps.

The ocean air is delightful and invigorating, the sky a perfect azure, and the translucent waves with their foamy edges stretch away in long beautiful curves. We feel the heart throbs of old Neptune, as the waters plash softly over the steamer's sides, and we speed steadily forward, with the rush and swish of the sea sounding in our ears with a wild sweet melody all its own. To fall asleep on deck amid these charming conditions is delightful indeed. But how quickly the scene changes. Suddenly a shrill whistle from the Quartermaster summons all hands to the deck. Orders are rapidly given in quick sharp tones: "Aloft. Take sail in." "Aye, aye, sir," is the swift response, in a twinkling the sure-footed sailors are up among the yards, perched in seemingly impossible places, reefing the flapping sails in preparation for the coming storm. Dark clouds above are reflected in gloomy waves below, and heaving billows surround us, uniting with a furious wind that seems bent on the destruction of our noble ship. The sailors in the rigging are swaying to and fro, and the panic-stricken passengers in the cabins are telling each other with pale faces that belie their words that they are not afraid, for there is no danger; yet they listen anxiously for every sound from above, and will not allow their dear ones to move beyond reach of their hands. There is no music now in the rushing of the waves or the flapping of the sails. Old Neptune in his angry moods is not a desirable companion. But nothing lasts forever, and from storm and night and black despair the flower of hope arises, for there comes a lull, followed by a furious blinding onslaught, and then the spirit of the hurricane calls his followers and flies up, away, somewhere beyond our ken: the captain's face relaxes from its tense expression, and he looks proudly around his good ship which has come out victor in the struggle with the elements. One by one, the passengers appear on deck, the purple clouds, after a final frown of disapproval at things in general, break into smiles, life on shipboard resumes its everyday attitude, and all goes "merry as a marriage bell." Life is full of contrasts. This is a picture for which neither brush nor camera is ready. He who would paint it must draw it from its recess in his memory, or from some sheltered nook on shore, and be cool and calm enough to follow his favorite occupation in spite of the consciousness that life and death are struggling for mastery in yonder thrilling scene that will make him famous if he can but truly portray it upon his canvas.

But there are many tableaux and picturesque situations here, very tempting to the traveller who carries with him his sketch book or camera, and I entertain my companions as well as myself by photographing many a little group both comical and interesting in the world around us. I invite our friends to the lower deck, where I wish to take pictures of some of the steerage passengers. Amongst these are two typical products of the British Isles--one a robust Irishman of shillalah fame, and the other a bonny boy from Scotland. I make known to them my desire to have their photographs, whereupon the quick witted Irishman, without doubt knowing the quality of his face, which is one of the ugliest I have ever seen, begins at once to bargain with me for the privilege of transferring it to my camera. It is true I could have stolen a march on him by a snap shot, and he been all unconscious of the act, but wishing to keep up the comedy I asked at what price he values his face. He replies that if I will take up a collection from the passengers around us, he will accept that as full pay. My friends of the cabin enter into the spirit of the play, and quite a goodly sum finds its way into the horny hand of the Hibernian athlete, who now, with a broad smile of satisfaction, intimates that he is ready to be "taken."

These pictures too join the gallery of our yesterdays. Swift has truly said: "It is the talent of human nature to run from one extreme to another." The long voyage is over, and all hearts rejoice in the sight of land, and now we are upon the landing stage at Liverpool, amidst the throng of excited passengers, all moving hither and thither in search of baggage which seems hopelessly lost in the confusion of trunks, porters, policemen, drays and ubiquitous small boys. This is a fine field for the student of human nature. Here are groups of inexperienced travellers looking anxiously about them, wondering how it is possible to extricate their belongings from the indistinguishable mass before them, and laboring under the dread that when found, a fierce and merciless custom-house official will seize upon trunks and boxes, and deaf to all protestations, dump the contents, from a shoe to a hat, upon the floor, to the everlasting confusion of the owners and the amusement of the spectators. The cool indifference of those who have crossed the ocean many times is in marked contrast to these panic-stricken, and really pitiable creatures.

Then there is the "happy-go-lucky" youth, who finds all this tumult a great joke, and who wanders carelessly about, with the serene confidence that "things" will turn out all right; which they generally do. Here is the fashionable mother with her pretty daughters who evince a charming delight in everything that happens; the fussy mama who is sure that her baggage has not come ashore, or that the officers of the custom-house are in league against her; children separated from parents or nurses, shrieking wildly in their terror, while others, more venturesome and curious, are in every one's way. Porters elbow their way through the crowd, cabmen shout in stentorian tones, policemen watch the masses, and now and then in sharp curt tones call a delinquent to order. A placid looking old gentleman with silvery hair and dignified demeanor stands in the midst of a picturesque party of young people, evidently his grandchildren. They all look so happy that it seems contagious, for the troubled countenances of their neighbors break into sympathetic smiles as they glance at this joyous family group. Every shade of human expression may be observed in this motley throng, and he who has eyes to see will find many a charming tableau, many a pathetic scene or diverting situation that would enrich a sketch book, or prove a valuable addition to the collection made by the ready camera. The various changes of expression are worth studying, for where "luxuriant joy and pleasure in excess" appear at one moment, the next may behold an angry frown, and a struggle as if for life amid the surging tide of humanity.

"Now one's the better--then the other best Both tugging to be victor, breast to breast Yet neither conqueror, or is conquered."

Taking a small steamer which plies between Liverpool and New Brighton, one may for a few cents, after a half hour's ride, land at an attractive and much frequented watering-place upon the bank of the Mersey River, opposite Liverpool. This resort is the pleasure-ground of the middle classes, and is well worth a visit. Upon a holiday many thousands flock to its shores which remind one of Vanity Fair, where numerous phases and conditions of life are represented. Here is the indefatigable and annoying travelling photographer with his "Four for a shilling. Take you in two minutes. Ladies and gentlemen, step in and see the finest pictures to be found in this country. Bridal groups a specialty."

Here are games of all kinds, pony and donkey riding, and all the shows to be found at the popular seashore resort. The "merry-go-round" is in full swing, with a crowd of spectators, among them many wistful children, watching the prancing camels and gaily caparisoned horses. The music here is quite inspiring, and the numerous small boys and maidens who lack the necessary pennies for this ravishing entertainment gaze at their more fortunate companions with woe-begone countenances. Strains less animated, but more melodious attract us to a fine dancing hall, where the older lads and lasses are tripping about in a lively manner. The light dresses, colored ribbons and happy faces make a pretty picture. Along the beach are beautiful views, worthy of a master hand, while out in the country the typical English houses with their massive thatched roofs and lovely surroundings of trees, lawns and gardens fair, cannot fail to captivate the artist's eyes.

A stroll through the streets and byways of Liverpool at night is a sad but interesting experience. Alas for the misery and crime and want that exist in all the great cities! Girls, young and pretty, but no longer innocent, may be seen in scores in every locality: children with poverty and depravity written on their faces boldly address one at the street corners: men and women, with sharp, pinched features and misery and despair in their voices, beseech one for alms, or with fierce cunning lie in wait for the unwary. Sick at heart and with inexpressible pity we wend our way from one point to another. Vice, crime, want, suffering meet our eyes on every side: and the old hopeless cry: Why must these things be? rises up again in our souls. Through the whole night long upon the curb stones, at the corners, lounging against the windows and doors of closed houses or shops, this lower stratum of life appears with its atmosphere of dusky gloom. When the daylight dawns upon the city, it seems to shrivel up and shrink into the mouths of the yawning black cellars and foul alleys whose very breath is a deadly poison. There are dozens of taverns scattered about the city, and within these rooms or stalls are partitioned off where sin may be screened from public view, for even those dyed deepest in crime sometimes fall so low that they dare not carry on their nefarious operations in the face of their everyday companions. These dens are countenanced by the authorities, and one may find within them criminals of every grade who prey upon each other for their sustenance: but in the long run, it is the proprietor who comes out with a substantial bank account.

Beggars, peddlers, musicians, singers of both sexes, and itinerant vendors of all kinds jostle each other in these haunts of sin, and great caution should be exercised in visiting them, for in certain localities, crimes of the most brutal character are of daily, I might say hourly occurrence. I would suggest that the tourist should at such times depend for safety upon the company of a first-class detective.

Let praise be given where it is due. The Salvationists of Europe have by their indefatigable labors reclaimed thousands of these men and women from their lives of sin and misery. You will meet these untiring workers everywhere, exhorting, praying, pleading with fallen humanity. These noble bands of Christians enter fearlessly the most loathsome hovels, and, wrestling with filth and disease, in many cases come off victorious. They have been known to wash the clothing and cleanse the houses of fever-stricken families, and supply wholesome food and care for helpless infants, defied at every step by a drunken son or father. They fear nothing, knowing that their cause is God's cause, and that in the end Almighty Goodness shall win an eternal conquest.

It is customary throughout England to close all the saloons on Sundays until noon, after which time they open their doors, and remain open till midnight as upon week-days.

Of the many cities whose haunts I have visited at night, I think that without exception, unless it be London, Liverpool leads in depravity and vice.

The country from Liverpool to Chester abounds in attractive scenery, local in character and possessing the additional charm of novelty for the American tourist. Along the route are scattered a number of old taverns, such as "The Horn," "The Green Tree," and similar names. Dismounting from bicycle or trap, the traveller who enters one of these ancient landmarks will find everything in "apple pie order": the floor clean and shining like a bright new dollar just launched from the mint. He will sit at a table within one of the three stalls on either side of the little room, and the landlord's wife will bring him a bumper of "good auld Al," the effect of which will prove lasting and beneficial, if it corresponds with my experience.

Chester, oldest of English cities, is full of quaint residences and other ancient buildings. The old wall which surrounds the town is the only one in Great Britain which has been preserved entire. It forms a continuous ring, although in some places the earth has climbed so far above its base, that it appears no higher than a terrace. Its rugged outer parapet is still complete, and the wide flagging forms a delightful promenade, with a fine view of the surrounding country. The earliest date which we find upon the wall is A. D. 61, when it was erected by the Romans. Twelve years later, Marius, king of the Britons, extended the wall. The Britons were defeated under it in 607, and after a lapse of three centuries, it was rebuilt by the daughter of Alfred the Great. It has a long and eventful history, and the old Cathedral whose edge it skirts, is one of the largest and most ancient in England. The sculptures in this magnificent edifice are worn smooth by the hand of time. The stained glass windows are marvels of art, the groined arches, dreamy cloisters, and antique carving upon seats and pews fill one with admiration mingled with awe. There are many fine mosaics here, and specimens of wood from the Holy Land. Costly gems adorn the choir; here too is a Bible whose cover is inlaid with precious stones. The massive Gothic pillars are still in a perfect state of preservation, as well as the numerous ancient monuments and relics of the past. The vast size of the Cathedral is a perpetual source of wonder to the stranger, who, wandering among its curious historic mementos, gazing upon its storied nave, transepts and choir, and upon the Bible scenes pictured in these glorious windows, feels that he has been transported by some magician's hand into an age long buried in the past. The Cathedral is said to have been founded in the year 200. Its height within, from floor to the lofty dome lighted by these exquisite windows is from sixty to one hundred feet. The Church of St. John the Baptist rivals the Cathedral in antiquity, but it is now a picturesque ruin covered with moss and ivy.