My father had engaged rooms at the Hotel Waldorf, where we found a most charming suite had been reserved for us. Each set of rooms in the hotel is furnished in a different style--one Indian, one Japanese, another Egyptian, and a special honeymoon suite, all pink, blue, and Cupids. This hotel--probably the most luxurious in the world--was built by Mr. Astor, the millionaire, costing £400,000, and £200,000 to furnish. The State-rooms, fitted up for the Prince of Wales, who never went there after all, are magnificent. The walls are hung with Gobelin tapestry, and all the dinner-service is of solid silver. I was particularly fascinated with the winter garden, which resembles a huge conservatory, with fountains, palms, and little tables dotted about. A string band played there every evening, and I saw a number of smartly-dressed American women and girls, as well as men, enjoying their favourite American drinks. I was not content until I had sampled a ‘corpse reviver,’ drinking it through a long straw, but I cannot say the result was altogether satisfactory.
Everything about New York interested me immensely after the quiet country life I had led at home. The crowds in the streets, the bustle, the electric-cars and overhead railways, were at first bewildering. We were given a box at the Opera Comique to see ‘Panjandrum,’ and there I saw several American society beauties. The girls reminded me much of Dana Gibson’s charming drawings. The men seemed insignificant in comparison; but it is said they make ideal husbands, which is an important consideration.
After the theatre we went to a ‘roof garden,’ going up by lift to the top of a large building, and through a door on to the roof. This had been converted into a Café Chantant--plants, chairs, a small stage, and a restaurant, all lit up with little coloured lamps. It was very amusing, and a delightful way of spending a hot evening, as, although the end of September, the weather in New York was still sultry.
Before returning to the hotel, my father took me to Delmonico’s, the famous New York restaurant, where we had an excellent supper, beginning with hot, soft-shell crabs--a very favourite dish in America. They are just like our crabs, but the shells are quite soft and crisp, and one eats shell, legs, and all. Mrs. Besant and her two Mahatmas were sitting at a table near us. They had evidently no immediate intention of assuming their astral shapes, to judge by the number of dishes which were placed before them and were carried away empty. A precocious little American girl of about ten was having supper with her ‘poppa’ and ‘momma’ at the table next to us. Between the intervals of eating she placed her elbows on the table, brandishing aloft her knife and fork, and made comments on the people round in a loud, nasal voice. After some especially indiscreet remark about the long, thin Indian, who turned and looked at her with a melancholy gleam in his snake-like eye, ‘momma’ exclaimed in equally strident tones: ‘I guess, Jemima, you had better keep your remarks to your own inside, and not make them public, or you’ll get yourself disliked--say?’ For a few moments Jemima remained silent, but soon began again.
The next morning I was awakened to find a negro standing by my bedside with a tray in his hands. He stood motionless in an attitude of attention, his feet well turned out, a broad grin showing his white teeth, apparently awaiting my commands. After receiving my orders, he departed with another low bow, still smiling. Most of the house-work is done in America by negroes, who are very quick and willing.
After three delightful but most fatiguing days in New York, spent in sight-seeing, we left by the night train for Niagara. I shall never forget my first impressions of those wonderful Falls, which even exceeded my expectations, they are so indescribably beautiful and impressive.
After lunch at the hotel where we were to stay the night, we walked to various points on the American side, and at each the view seemed more beautiful than the last. The Niagara River divides and forms three islands. On one side are the American Falls; on the other, over a large suspension-bridge, are the Canadian Horseshoe Falls. I persuaded my father to take me down under the latter. We were first both arrayed in a complete set of oilskins--coat, long boots, and pointed hood--and presented most comical figures. A guide led the way, as the path in places was very steep and slippery. At one spot the water poured down on us like a shower-bath, and it required some strength of mind not to turn back; but when we had once started we were determined to see all. We came to a tunnel, lighted by lanterns, where the water dripped from the roof and walls, forming deep puddles, through which we plunged; and I was glad to find myself in the daylight again, safe and sound. The sunshine on the water produced a rainbow at both Falls--a most beautiful sight on the white foam.
Almost more impressive, if possible, than the Falls are the whirlpool rapids, which we visited next morning--the place where Captain Webb was drowned, and where only lately a foolhardy woman lost her life attempting to cross in a cask. The cask reached its destination safely, after some hours’ buffeting with the current, but when opened, the woman was found dead.
I can only liken the scene to a tremendous storm on a rocky coast, as the waves dashed over the rocks, throwing up foam and spray high into the air, whilst the thunder of the water was deafening. The cliffs on either side of the river were covered with grass and trees growing to the water’s edge, calm and peaceful--a striking contrast to the Rapids and their ceaseless tumult.
From Niagara we went by train and boat to Toronto. On our arrival at the hotel we found five reporters sitting in the hall awaiting us, ready to pounce on my father, who, being well known in the literary world, was doomed to be victimized. In vain did my unfortunate parent remind them it was past nine o’clock, that we had had no dinner, and having only that evening made our first acquaintance with the delights of Canada, it was impossible fully to do justice either to himself or the country. All was of no avail; a long string of questions had to be answered before we were permitted to depart in peace, and the next morning in all the leading papers appeared wonderful and totally untrue accounts of our family history, appearance, and sentiments.