was not much time for preparation. The house was in a ferment till Amy was off. Jo bore up very well until it was done. Then she cried till she couldn’t cry any more. Amy likewise bore up well till the steamer sailed. Then just as the gangway was about to be withdrawn, it suddenly came over her that a whole ocean was soon to roll between her and those who loved her best, and she clung to Laurie, saying with a sob,
“Oh, take care of them for me, and if anything happens…”
“I will, dear, I will, and if anything happens, I’ll come and comfort you,” whispered Laurie, little dreaming that he would be called upon to keep his word.
So Amy sailed away to find the Old World, which is always new and beautiful to young eyes.
Our Foreign Correspondent
London
Dear girls,
Here I really sit at a front window of the Bath Hotel, Piccadilly. It’s not a fashionable place, but Uncle stopped here years ago, and won’t go anywhere else. However, we don’t intend to stay long. Oh, I can’t begin to tell you how I enjoy it all! I never can.
I sent a line from Halifax, when I felt pretty miserable, but after that I got on delightfully, seldom ill, on deck all day, with plenty of pleasant people to amuse me. Everyone was very kind to me, especially the officers. Don’t laugh, Jo, gentlemen are really necessary on the ship.
Aunt and Flo were ill all the way, and liked to be let alone. So I went and enjoyed myself. Such walks on deck, such sunsets, such splendid air and waves! It was almost as exciting as riding a fast horse, when we went rushing on so grandly.
It was all heavenly, but I was glad to see the Irish coast, and found it very lovely, so green and sunny, with brown cabins here and there, ruins on some of the hills, and gentlemen’s countryseats in the valleys, with deer feeding in the parks. It was early in the morning, but I didn’t regret getting up to see it. The bay was full of little boats, the shore so picturesque, and a rosy sky overhead. I shall never forget it.
At Queenstown one of my new acquaintances left us, Mr. Lennox, and when I said something about the Lakes of Killarney, he sighed, and sung, with a look at me,
“Oh, have you ever heard of Kate Kearney?
She lives on the banks of Killarney;
From the glance of her eye,
Shun danger and fly,
For fatal is the glance of Kate Kearney.”
Wasn’t that nonsensical?
We only stopped at Liverpool a few hours. It’s a dirty, noisy place, and I was glad to leave it. Uncle rushed out and bought a pair of dogskin gloves[20], some ugly, thick shoes, and an umbrella. I like traveling.
I shall never get to London if I don’t hurry. The trip was riding through a long picture gallery, full of lovely landscapes. The farmhouses were my delight, with thatched roofs, ivy up to the eaves, latticed windows, and stout women with rosy children at the doors. The grass is so green, sky so blue, grain so yellow, woods so dark!
Of course it rained when we got to London, and there was nothing to be seen but fog and umbrellas. We rested, unpacked, and shopped a little between the showers. Aunt Mary got me some new things. A white hat and blue feather, a muslin dress, and the loveliest mantle you ever saw. Shopping in Regent Street is perfectly splendid. Things are very cheap, nice ribbons only sixpence a yard. I shall get my gloves in Paris. Doesn’t that sound elegant and rich?
Flo and I, for the fun of it, ordered a hansom cab, while Aunt and Uncle were out, and went for a drive. We learned afterward that it wasn’t appropriate for young ladies to ride in them alone. It was so droll! We were shut in by the wooden apron, the man drove so fast that Flo was frightened, and told me to stop him. But he didn’t hear me. We were quite helpless. At last, in my despair, I saw a little door in the roof, and opened it. A red eye appeared, and a beery voice said,
“Now, then, mum?”
I gave my order soberly, and, with an “Aye, aye, mum,” the man made his horse walk, as if going to a funeral. I poked again and said, “A little faster,” then off he went very fast, as before. We resigned ourselves to our fate.
Today was fair, and we went to Hyde Park. The Duke of Devonshire lives near. And the Duke of Wellington’s house is not far off. Such sights as I saw, my dear! There were fat dowagers in their red and yellow coaches, with gorgeous servants in silk stockings and velvet coats, powdered coachmen in front. Smart maids, with the rosiest children I ever saw, handsome girls, looking half asleep, dandies in queer English hats and lavender kids, and tall soldiers, in short red jackets and muffin caps.
The horses are splendid, and the men, especially the grooms, ride well. But the women are stiff, and bounce. I wanted to show them an American gallop!
Don’t expect me to describe Westminster Abbey, that’s impossible. I’ll only say it is sublime! This evening we are going to the theatre.
It’s very late, but I want to tell you what happened last evening. Who do you think came in, as we were at tea? Laurie’s English friends, Fred and Frank Vaughn! I was very surprised. Both are tall fellows with whiskers, Fred handsome in the English style, and Frank much better, for he only limps slightly, and uses no crutches. They heard from Laurie where we were, and came to ask us to their house. But Uncle doesn’t want to go, so we shall see them as soon as we can. They went to the theater with us, and we had such a good time, for Frank devoted himself to Flo, and Fred and I talked over past, present, and future fun. Tell Beth Frank asked for her, and was sorry to hear of her ill health. Fred laughed when I spoke of Jo, and sent his ‘respectful compliments to the big hat’. Neither of them forgot Camp Laurence, or the fun we had there.
Aunt is tapping on the wall for the third time, so I must stop. I really feel like a London lady, writing here so late, with my room full of pretty things. My head is full of parks, theaters, new gowns, and gallant creatures who say “Ah!” and twirl their blond mustaches.
Your loving Amy
Paris
Dear girls,
In my last letter I told you about our London visit, how kind the Vaughns were, and what pleasant parties they made for us. I enjoyed the trips to Hampton Court and the Kensington Museum more than anything else. At Hampton I saw Raphael’s works, and at the Museum, rooms full of pictures by Turner, Lawrence, Reynolds, Hogarth, and the other great people. The day in Richmond Park was charming. We had an English picnic. The Vaughns hope to meet us in Rome next winter. I shall be dreadfully disappointed if they don’t. Grace and I are great friends, and the boys very nice fellows, especially Fred.
Well, he said that he was going to Switzerland. Aunt looked sober at first, but he was so cool about it she couldn’t say a word. He speaks French like a Frenchman, and I don’t know what we will do without him. Uncle doesn’t know ten words, and insists on talking English very loud. Aunt’s pronunciation is old-fashioned. Flo and I find we don’t know French at all, and are very grateful to have Fred to do the ‘parley vooing’[21], as Uncle calls it.
We have such delightful times! Sightseeing from morning till night, stopping for nice lunches in the cafeterias. Rainy days I spend in the Louvre.
dogskin gloves – лайковые перчатки
to do the ‘parley vooing’ – «парлевукать» (
