A SAFE PASSAGE AND A HAPPY REUNION
Gertrude and May never knew what happiness was before. One maiden had her lover, and the heart of the other was pledged to music. George too was happy in Gertrude's happiness and joyous in his own thoughts that perhaps he had already entered upon his life work, the development of plans which would bless humanity. Colonel Harris's chief joy was that he had earned a rest, was soon to see the absent members of his family, and to behold the work of men in Europe.
People crowded the gangway, the same as on a previous occasion when duty forced him suddenly to leave the "Majestic." It was almost two o'clock; visitors were no longer admitted to the steamer, except messengers with belated telegrams, mail, packages, and flowers for the travelers. On the bridge of the "Campania" stood the uniformed captain and junior officers. The chief officer was at the bow, the second officer aft. The captain, notified that all was ready, gave the command, "Let go!" and the cables were unfastened. The engineer started the baby-engine, which partially opens the great throttle-valves, the twin-screws began to revolve, and the "Campania," like an awakened leviathan slowly moved into the Hudson River. Hundreds on both the pier and steamer fluttered their handkerchiefs, and through a mist of tears good-byes were exchanged, till the increasing distance separated the dearest of friends.
For twenty-four hours George Ingram was seen but little on deck. Most of his time he spent with Carl Siemen, the engineer. The colonel took great delight as the escort of two appreciative young ladies. Before the voyage ended every available part of the "Campania" was explored.
Gertrude was surprised to find an engineer so cultivated a gentleman. He was surrounded in his oak-furnished office by soft couches, easy chairs, works of art, burnished indicators and dials. Mr. Siemen received his orders from the captain or officer on the bridge by telegraph.
"It's mere child's play," said May, "and as easy as touching the keys of a great organ."
Mr. Siemen now conducted his friends into the engine-room. "It is not easy to imagine the tremendous force of the two swiftly turning screws or propellers exerted against the surging waters of the Atlantic," he said. "Our 30,000 horse power engines, a horse power is equal to six men, equal 180,000 strong men pulling at the oars, or twice the number of men that fought at Gettysburg to perpetuate the American Union."
"Wonderful!" said Colonel Harris.
"Steam guided by command of the officer on the bridge, with slightest effort, also steers our immense steamer."
"Mr. Siemen, tell us please how the steamer is lighted?" said George.
"We have fifty miles of insulated wire in the "Campania" for the electric current generated by our two dynamos, which give us 1350 sixteen-candle power lights, equal to a total of 22,000 candle power, absorbing 135 horse-power. We also use large electric reflectors and search lights to pick up buoys on a dark night. All our machinery is in duplicate.
"At night when the broad clean decks of hardwood are illuminated with electric lights and filled with gay promenaders, you easily imagine that you are strolling along Broadway."
The accommodations and appointments of staterooms, of all the large public rooms, and especially the dining-room, are perfect. A week on the Atlantic, with the joyous bracing sea-air of the summer months, and surrounded as you are by a cosmopolitan group of people, passes as delightfully as a brief stay at the ocean side.
The passage of the "Campania" from Sandy Hook Light to Queenstown was made in less than five and one-half days, 5 days, 10 hours, and 47 minutes, or at an average speed of 21.82 knots per hour, the highest day's run being 548 knots. At Queenstown Colonel Harris received telegrams and letters from his family saying that they would meet him at Leamington, and that Alfonso would meet his father at Liverpool.
Reuben Harris wired his wife when his party expected to arrive. It was ten o'clock in the morning when the S.S. "Campania" arrived in the Mersey off Alexandra dock, and the company's tender promptly delivered the passengers on the Liverpool Landing Stage.
Gertrude was first to single out Alfonso, whose handkerchief waved a brother's welcome to the old world. Alfonso was the first to cross the gangway to the tender, and rushed to his friends. The greeting was mutually cordial. The father embraced his boy, for he loved him much and still cherished a secret hope that his only son might yet turn his mind to business. Alfonso seemed specially pleased that George and his sister May had come, for he had frequently met May Ingram and her singing had often charmed him.
May was about his own age. As Alfonso helped her down the gangway to the deck, he thought he had never seen her look so pretty. She was about the size of his sister Lucille; slender, erect, and in her movements she was as graceful as the swaying willows. May's face was oval like that of her English mother. She had an abundance of brown hair, her eyes were brilliant, and her complexion, bronzed by the sea-breezes, had a pink under-coloring that increased her beauty. If Alfonso's eyes were fixed on her a moment longer than custom allows, perhaps he was excusable, for portrait painting was his hobby, and he fancied that he knew a beautiful face.
Alfonso was all attention to his friends in clearing the baggage through the customs and getting checks for Leamington. After lunch, at the fine railway hotel, the two o'clock express from Lime Street station was taken, and Colonel Harris and party became loud in their praises of John Bull's Island, as they sped on, via Coventry with her three tall spires, to the fashionable Spa, where the Harris family were again to be reunited. It was six o'clock when Alfonso alighted on the platform. "Here they are, mother, I have brought them all; father, Gertrude, George, and May."
The Leamington meeting was a happy one. The sorrow of separation is often compensated by the joys of reunion. Mrs. Harris embraced her husband as if he had returned a hero from the wars. In fact, he had emerged from a conflict that brought neither peace nor honor to capital or labor.
Lucille too was enthusiastic. She, who was haughty, rarely responsive, and often proud of her father's wealth, for the time assumed another character and warmly welcomed her sister Gertrude and Gertrude's intended husband as "brother George." Leo too was glad to make new acquaintances. Eight joyous people attracted the attention of many at the station.
Fortunately, the next day was Sunday, which gave time for rest, for review of the past few exciting weeks, and for the development of future plans of travel. Much was told of the Harris trip through Ireland and of the last week spent in the south of England.
Lucille described to Gertrude and May Stonehenge, hanging stones,—the wonder of Salisbury Plain, where stand the ruins of the Druid temple—three circles of upright moss-grown stones with flat slabs across their tops, in which it is supposed the sun was worshiped with human sacrifices. Many burial mounds are scattered about. A broad driveway, a mile in extent, surrounds the temple, where possibly great processions came to witness the gorgeous displays. In early Britain the Druid priests held absolute sway over the destinies of souls. These priests were finally overpowered by the Romans, and some of them burned upon their own altars.
"But, Lucille, you wrote that you planned to visit Osborne House."
"Yes, dear, we did go to the Isle of Wight, and saw Osborne House, Queen Victoria's home by the sea, as Balmoral is her summer home among the mountains of Scotland. Her Majesty's palace is surrounded by terraced gardens, nearly five thousand acres of forests, pastures, and fertile meadows. Osborne House is furnished with much magnificence, mosaic flooring, costly marbles, statuary, paintings, books, and art souvenirs.
"There the queen and Prince Albert painted, sang, and read together. Those were happy days indeed for the young rulers of a kingdom. Each of their children had a garden. The Prince of Wales worked in a carpenter's shop, and the royal princesses learned housework in a kitchen and dairy prepared for them." This was a revelation to Lucille, who had been reared with little or nothing to do.
Lucille told Gertrude and May that she had just been reading the early life of the queen, who said, "If one's home is happy, then trials and vexations are comparatively nothing." The queen also said, "Children should be brought up simply and learn to put the greatest confidence in their parents." Lucille continued, "The queen often visited her people, bringing toys for the children—a promise to a child she never forgets—and gifts of warm clothing for the aged, to their great delight."
At a conference of the Harris family, it was decided to go to London after spending Monday in a carriage drive to Warwick and Kenilworth castles and Stratford-on-Avon. So Monday promptly at eight o'clock two carriages stood waiting at the hotel. Colonel Harris took Mrs. Harris, May Ingram, and Alfonso with him, and George Ingram took Gertrude, Lucille, and Leo in the second carriage.
There are few, if any, more magnificent drives in England than the one through the beautiful Stratford district. It is recorded that two Englishmen once laid a wager as to the finest walk in England. One named the walk from Coventry to Stratford, the other from Stratford to Coventry.
It was a delightful day and both the colonel and George entirely forgot business in their enjoyment of the loveliest country they had ever seen. A drive of two miles, from Leamington and along the banks of the historic Avon, brought them to Warwick Castle which Scott calls "The fairest monument of ancient and chivalrous splendor uninjured by the tooth of time." It is said that Warwick Castle was never taken by any foe in days gone by.
Our visitors drove over the draw-bridge through a gateway covered with ivy, and still guarded as of old, by an ancient portcullis. In the hall of the castle, pannelled with richly carved oak, are religiously guarded the helmet of Cromwell, the armor of the Black Prince, and many historic relics and art treasures. The drawing-room is finished in cedar. In former days guests were summoned to the great banqueting hall by a blare of trumpets. In the gardens is seen the celebrated white marble Warwick vase from Adrian's villa. Interwoven vines form the handles, and leaves and grapes adorn the margin of the vase. Superb views were had from the castle towers. In the Beauchamp chapel in the old town of Warwick repose the remains of Dudley, Earl of Leicester, one of Queen Elizabeth's favorites. She gave Leicester beautiful Kenilworth Castle, which is five miles distant.
As the carriages drove over the smooth road, beneath the venerable elms and sycamores, artists along the way were sketching. Both Alfonso and Leo tipped their hats, as members of a guild that recognizes art for art's sake, a society that takes cognizance of neither nationality nor sect.
Gertrude and George had read Scott's novel in which he tells of the ancient glories of Kenilworth, which dates back to the twelfth century, and to-day is considered the most beautiful ruin in the world. Ivy mantles the lofty ruined walls; the sun tinges in silver the gray old towers, and sends a flood of golden light through the deep windows of the once magnificent banqueting hall.
For years Kenilworth Castle was a royal residence, and later it was the scene of bloody conflicts between kings and nobles. Today sheep peacefully graze within the ruins and about the grounds. Visitors from all parts of the world look in wonder upon the decay of glories that once dazzled all Europe. Here the earl of Leicester entertained his virgin queen hoping to marry her. As Elizabeth crossed the draw-bridge a song in her praise was sung by a Lady of the Lake on an island floating in the moat. Story writers have never tired of telling of the magnificence of these entertainments that cost the ambitious earl $20,000 per day for nineteen days.
Returning, Warwick Arms Hotel was reached for lunch, after which the party drove eight miles to Stratford-on-Avon, a model town on the classic Avon. Here in Henley Street, in a half-timbered house recently carefully restored, Shakespeare was born. The walls and window panes are covered with the names of visitors, while inside are kept albums for the autographs of kings, queens, of Scott, Byron, Irving, and others. One of the three rooms below is an ancient kitchen, where by the big open chimney the poet often sat. Climbing a winding, wooden stairway, George and Gertrude in the lead, our Harrisville friends entered the old-fashioned chamber, where, it is said, on St. George's Day, April 19, 1564, William Shakespeare was born. A bust of the poet stands on the table.
"We know little of his mother," said Gertrude, "except that she had a beautiful name, Mary Arden. If it is true, as a rule, that all great men have had great mothers, Mary Arden must have been a very superior woman."
"The reverse, Gertrude, must be equally true," said George, "that all great women must have had great fathers."
Gertrude who had made a special study of Shakespeare and his works did much of the talking. She said, "All that is definitely known of the life of the great poet can be put on half a page. It is thought that William was the son of a well-to-do farmer who lost his property. William, not above work, assisted his father as butcher, then taught school, and later served as a lawyer's clerk. When he was eighteen, like most young people, he fell in love."
Saying this, Gertrude led to the street, and the party drove to Shottery, a pretty village a mile away, where is Ann Hathaway's thatched cottage. "Here the beardless William often came," said Gertrude, "and told his love to the English maiden. Ann Hathaway was older than William, she was twenty-six, but they were married, and had three children.
"When Shakespeare was twenty-five he was part owner of the Blackfriar's Theatre in London. There he spent his literary life, and there he was actor, dramatist, and manager. He became rich and returned occasionally to Stratford where he bought lands and built houses.
"If we can trust statues and paintings and writers, William Shakespeare had a kingly physique, light hazel eyes and auburn hair."
"What about his death?" inquired Colonel Harris.
"Of his death," said Gertrude, "we know little, save that the Vicar of Stratford wrote that Shakespeare, Drayton, and Ben Johnson had a merry meeting, possibly drank too much, and that Shakespeare died of a fever then contracted, on the anniversary of his birth, when he was fifty-two years old."
"And where was he buried?" inquired Lucille.
"In the Stratford church," answered Gertrude, and the carriages were driven up an avenue of arching lime trees. The old church, with its tall and graceful spire, reflected in the waters of the Avon, is a restful place for the body that contains the mightiest voice in literature. Near by also lie buried his wife and their children. A plain slab in the floor covers his remains.
Recently a new grave was dug near Shakespeare's and the intervening wall fell in. A workman ventured to hold a lighted taper in death's chamber, which revealed that the ashes of the immortal Shakespeare could be held in the palm of the hand. The Harris party drove back to Leamington to spend the night.