Odd Bits of Travel with Brush and Camera

by Charles M. Taylor

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.

“The sailors in the rigging are swaying to and fro.” (See page 19.)

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.”