14000 miles, a carriage and two women

by Frances S. Howe

A good night had restored our shaken equilibrium, and we went down town on a shopping expedition, also to get any mail that might have been forwarded to Miles & Thompson’s in West street. We thought we had too much time, and idled it away “looking” at things, until at last we had to hasten back to dinner, without having done our chief errand—replaced our broken hand mirror. That idling was a mistake; idling always is. Although we hurried dinner, and hurried the letters we ought to have written before dinner, the mail wagon drove away from the Back Bay post office, just as we drove to the door.

We profited by this lesson, and took a straight course, that is as straight as one can take in Boston, for the boat. The way we knew was the straightest for us, and we repeated the intricate drive of Tuesday afternoon, through Beacon, Tremont, Bromfield and State streets to Atlantic avenue. We were on deck an hour and a half ahead of time, but it began to rain, and we were glad Jerry and the buggy were under cover.

The abruptness of our story having been remedied, we will now proceed to Bath as speedily as possible, but it takes all night, so there is plenty of time to tell you of something of that part of our journey. We found a dry corner on deck, and watched the passengers as they came on board. A Sister of Charity was sitting not far from us, and an every-day looking man went to her, and said “You’re a ‘Sister,’ ain’t you?” and offered his hand as he took a stool by her. He was quite deaf, and the attention was evidently embarrassing. As soon as she could without seeming rude, the Sister rose quietly and went inside. In a few moments she came out again, and took a seat by us, and we chatted together until driven to the cabin by the rain, which finally found our corner.

The sound of music attracted us to the other end of the boat, where a blind man was entertaining the passengers with song and story combined. After our experience, we marveled when he said that though blind he could not lose his way in Boston. As his fingers flew over the piano keys, we wondered if it was necessary to be blind, in order to navigate Boston, and hit every note on the piano with never a miss.

Before going to our room, we went to see that Jerry was all right. The man who took him on board piloted us to his stall, and on the way back showed us the furnaces and the machinery. He interested us with his appreciation of the mighty silent power. He said he often went in alone, and watched it, and felt awed by the wonderful working of each part, the perfect action of even the minutest being essential to the whole.

We were obliged to take an inside stateroom, but found it very comfortable, and there was an opening heavenward just large enough for us to see one star, which told us the rain was over. We arose soon after three to be sure of the sunrise, and were out on deck as we stopped at Popham Beach, at the mouth of the Kennebec River. The apples we bought on Atlantic avenue were a timely refreshment, and the sail up the river, with the sunrise, was ample compensation for our effort. At five o’clock we landed at Bath, and Jerry’s friend harnessed him for us, saying courteously, as he handed us the reins, “Whenever you come this way again call for the second mate.”

The drive through the main street of Bath at that early hour was a decided contrast to our drive to the boat in Boston. It seemed as if the morning was half spent, and we could hardly realize that our waiting in the parlor of the hotel was for a six o’clock breakfast. At our table we recognized the faces of the bride and bridegroom, whose path we crossed four times on our Bar Harbor trip two years ago.

After doing justice to that early feast, we went out once more for a hand mirror, as we were tired of looking cracked. Next door to the hotel we found one that just suited us, and several other little things as well, among them a penholder, which we purchased in memory of the one we lost in Bath two years ago.

At eight o’clock all was ready for the thirty-four miles drive up the Kennebec to Augusta. The day was lovely and cool, and we need not say the scenery was fine. We dined at Richmond, and spent the night at the Augusta House.

Thirty-two miles the next day, still following the river, taking dinner at Waterville, brought us to Norridgewock, which was full of interest to us, from descriptions so often given us by friends, of the old-time beauty. It is one of the few places where we would like to stay, had we time to delay. The Kennebec runs close by the main street, and the large covered bridge is opposite the hotel. We walked to the middle of the bridge to watch the sunset clouds, and feast our eyes on the view up the river. As the light faded we strolled down the main street, which is overarched by old willows. We measured the largest, walking around it with a handkerchief, just twenty-four lengths, twenty-three feet and four inches, a grand old trunk.