Zigzag Journeys in Europe Part 23

LETTERS AND EXCURSIONS.

An English Skylark.--Letter from George Howe.--Tommy's Account of his Nottingham Adventure.--Glas...o...b..ry Abbey.--The Beginning of the English Church.--St. Joseph of Arimathaea and the Glas...o...b..ry Thorn.--Story of St. Dunstan and the Devil.

Master Lewis set apart a day at Oxford for leisure, writing, and rest.

In the morning, after breakfast, the Cla.s.s took a walk to the suburbs, and rested on some wayside seats overlooking the Thames.

It was a beautiful morning, cool and still. The world of sunlight all seemed to be above the trees, an over-sea of gold, of which the long arcades of intermingling boughs afforded but glimpses.

Near the wayside resting-place was a field bordered with trees. A speck of a bird rose from it out of the gra.s.s uttering a few notes that attracted the boys' attention. Up, up it went like a rocket, and as it rose higher and higher its song became sweeter and sweeter,--a happy, trilling melody, which made every boy leap to his feet, and try to find a place where he could see it through the openings in the trees.

"The bird seems to have gone straight up to heaven," said Wyllys Wynn.

"I can hardly see it; but I can hear its melody yet."

"That is an English skylark," said Master Lewis, "so famous in pastoral poetry. You now understand Tennyson's meaning when he says,--

"'The lark becomes a sightless song.'

I am glad you have seen it. I wish we might see more of common sights and scenes.

"I have here a letter from George Howe and Leander Towle, which greatly pleases me. My object is to take you to historic scenes.

George and Leander have different tastes from yours, and expect to follow different occupations. They are making their journey a study of common life and its pursuits, as I would have them do."

"Will you not read their letter to us?" asked Ernest.

"That was just what I was about to do," said Master Lewis.

Caen, Normandy, July.

Dear Teacher:--

I begin my letter here in this city, which I suppose has an atmosphere of old history, but which is interesting to me because it is the centre of the "food-producing land" of France, as Lower Normandy is well called. All of this part of the country through which I have pa.s.sed is a scene of thrift, productiveness, and plenty. The people are all busy and happy. Occupied minds are always happy, I believe.

How did we get here?

We rode a part of the way to London on what is called, I think, Parliamentary trains. This is not a train of grand coaches for the use of members of Parliament, but a sort of slow-coach train which Parliament has enacted shall carry cattle, produce, and commercial necessities for a fixed rate a mile. Or this is the way in which the running of these cheap trains was explained to me.

It would have been a hard ride, had not new scenes been continually coming into view, and the train have gone so slowly that we were enabled to enjoy them almost as well as though we had been riding on an English stage-coach.

I was so interested in the new objects that presented themselves that I entirely forgot the manner of conveyance.

I shall never forget that ride: it was like viewing a long panorama.

It cost me only about 1 or $5.00, to travel from Scotland to London.

We took a lodging room in London which cost us a shilling a night apiece. While in London I visited the Tower, Westminster Abbey, Windsor, and the princ.i.p.al Parks. The half day spent in Westminster Abbey was worth all the discomforts of the journey across the sea.

We also made a journey to Sydenham Crystal Palace,--an immense museum of novelties, to which the admission is only one shilling. It is probably the first palace ever built for the people, and I like the idea of a people's palace better than a king's. It occupies with its grounds about three hundred acres, and cost nearly 2,000,000. Twenty-five acres of gla.s.s were used in its construction. The museum is full of the products of industry of all countries and times. Think of it--all for one shilling! It is a thing to make one always respect the English people.

I need say very little of the tombs of the twenty or thirty kings and queens in Westminster Abbey. I was first impressed with the value of fame when I read inscriptions to persons once famous of whom I never heard,--Thomas Shadwell, Poet Laureate in the Court of William III.; Mrs. Oldfield, whom we are told was buried "in a fine Brussels lace head-dress,"--and I thought, Well, all men can do is to perform their duty, and time will one day make forgotten Thomas Shadwells and Mrs.

Oldfields of them all.

While in London I made also a pleasant excursion into Berkshire, and there I saw the famous White Horse Hill.

It is said that the figure of the White Horse on the hill was first made by Alfred the Great a thousand years ago, to commemorate the defeat of the Danes,--the White Horse being the standard or national emblem of the Danish chief. Whatever may have been its origin, it is _now_ made by annually cutting about an acre of turf away from the chalk beneath it. This work is performed during a festival in its honor, and is called "Scouring the White Horse."

[Ill.u.s.tration: {HOUSE OF A MIGRATING CITIZEN.}]

While in Berkshire I saw an odd picture, not of a castle, but of an old English gentleman's residence, which was truly castle-like in appearance, and which furnishes a happy suggestion to people who do not like to live long in any one place. It was a tun on wheels, and it had been used by an overtaxed and indignant democrat for the purpose of having no fixed locality, and so to avoid a.s.sessment.

In London I made a study of the cheapest way of getting to Paris, and of seeing the most on the journey. I found I could take a returning produce boat at Southampton for Lower Normandy at a trifling cost, and could go on a produce train from Caen to Paris as inexpensively.

We took a third-cla.s.s ticket to Southampton. What a delightful ride it was! Out of the smoke of London into the blossoming country, among landscapes of cottages and gardens,--thatched cottages, cottages covered with old red tiles, cottages whose gardens seemed to climb up embankments to the roofs; past wheat fields so full of poppies that they seemed like poppy-fields in full bloom! I saw one field completely covered with red, purple, yellow, and white poppies. It was an exquisitely beautiful sight,--nothing but bright color.

The steamer we took was employed simply for the exportation of Normandy b.u.t.ter, potatoes, and other farm produce. It comes to England loaded, and goes back empty. I obtained pa.s.sage for 10 francs, and what I saved by travel on the water I intended to make up by a longer trip by land.

We were much tossed about by the tides of the English Channel, but arrived safely at Cherbourg, and went by rail immediately to Bayeux, a dreamy, ecclesiastical city that the battles of the past seem to have left in strange silence. I spoke at the beginning of my letter of the activity and thrift of Lower Normandy, but Bayeux is the stillest city I ever saw.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FAC-SIMILE OF THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY.]

Here, in the Public Library, we saw the famous Bayeux Tapestry, which is displayed under a gla.s.s case; is two hundred and fourteen feet long and contains over fifteen hundred figures. The canvas is embroidered in woollen thread of various colors, the work of Matilda and her maids. I make a copy from a sample picture of the exact size of the thread used.

[Ill.u.s.tration: {EXAMPLE OF WOOLLEN THREAD.}]

One may read on this fabric the history of the Norman Conquest of England. It is the most novel work of history I ever saw.

The farming districts of Normandy seem indeed like Arcadia: farmers mean business here, and thrive by thrift. Their sons and daughters, I am told, do not run off to the city. I have never seen a people whose habits I like so well.

Give our regards to all.

George Howe.

P. S. We are on our way to Paris, riding through a country of old churches, castles, and flowers, on a produce train.

"I think," said Master Lewis, "that George and Leander are, after all, making a very delightful tour; they certainly are getting better views of common, practical life abroad than we are. I am glad that they had the independence to make the journey in this way."

"How much do you think their whole tour will cost them?" asked Ernest.

"It will cost each of them less than either you or I have paid for a single ocean pa.s.sage," said Master Lewis.

The boys spent the afternoon in letter-writing.

Tommy Toby wrote a long letter to George Howe.

"I have taken George into my confidence," said he, after tea, as Master Lewis and the boys were sitting by the open windows of the hotel, "and have given him an account of my hunting adventure in Nottingham."

"Suppose you read the letter to us," said Master Lewis.

Tommy, whose nature would not allow him to keep a secret long, however disparaging to himself, seemed pleased to accept Master Lewis's suggestion.