re-packing our valise and trunk, settling our account and calling to our rescue a porter. We were soon in train at Snow Hill for Victoria, arriving at this latter place in time to catch “The Continental” for New Haven and Dieppe. It is not an easy matter even with a porter to guide you, to find out amidst such a labyrinth of platforms and stair-cases to find the train you want, and to get a comfortable seat. We managed, however, ultimately to reach the right platform and to find a seat in a comfortable compartment. We noticed our fellow passengers, by label on their luggage, were also going to foreign fields and to Continental cities. The morning was a lovely autumn morning. As we steamed out of Victoria Station we got a sight of the lovely landscape, the morning sun was shining in great brilliance. We passed villages of importance, and towns in rapid succession. Lewes was a stopping place not far from New Haven. We did not stay long at this station, just long enough for the railway officials to satisfy themselves we were all furnished with tickets for the Continent. After leaving Lewes, we were in New Haven in about half-an-hour.
New Haven is about 56 miles from London. A pretty place, lying at the foot of the white chalk cliffs. It has a population of about 3,000. It is, however, an important place, as the mail packets for the cities of Europe leave here twice daily. Our train ran us very close up to the landing stage, and the securing our luggage and getting it conveyed from train to steamer was only the work of about ten minutes, and was managed without the least difficulty. The weather continued all we could desire, and it seemed quite clear we were going to have a calm sea and a pleasant voyage across channel. We got very nice seats on the boat; we found our fellow-passengers on the whole most agreeable, polite, and, indeed, friendly; were we not all on pleasure bent, and should we not now, on the wide ocean, show to others respect. We strolled the deck of our pretty little vessel, she was a beauty, and behaved so well, we had not the least fear of that terrible disease that afflicts so many who sail the seas, I mean what the French call mal-de-mer—“the sickness of the sea.” We had hardly lost sight of the white cliffs of dear, old England, when our thoughts went back to home, and to loved ones. Then we began to think of refreshments. We found a menu that filled us with hopefulness that an agreeable meal at least might be obtained. We went to the buffet and found we could get a real good English dinner. This we had and enjoyed it heartily; I considered it excellent, and my wife, who is a connoisseur in the cookery line, declared she was well satisfied.
A newly-married couple joined us. We found they were on their honeymoon. A very happy couple apparently. In our hearts we wished that their lives might be as smooth as the sea we were now crossing. We became quite friends before we got half way across the channel. I had my Kodak with me, so I must take a snap-shot or two of the happy pair; then I and my wife must submit to the same process. So the time passed pleasantly, and in about three hours we were landing on the shores of France at Dieppe.
Our little ship, as if in a hurry to serve us, was quickly up at the landing stage, and we were safe on shore with our baggage, en route for the Custom House. We soon found out we were in a foreign land, because a foreign tongue was spoken, and although I am able to parley vous un peu, I could not hold conversation with a Frenchman, he speaks so quickly. I, however, could ask a simple question in French and also give a simple answer to a question, and this was of immense value to me during this tour. Our trunks duly examined, and free, we had a short time to look round Dieppe.
On our strolling about a little, waiting for our train, we saw a little of this rather important French town and watering place. It has a population of about 20,000; it lies in a hollow so to speak; the white chalk hills surround it; the quays are substantially built of solid masonry. Dieppe seems to have an old castle, quite out-of-date, as a defence; there is also a citadel of modern construction; a small light-house, about 40-feet high, stands by the entrance of the town. We learned that a large number of French people come to Dieppe for the summer and autumn holidays. There are some works for the labouring classes, such as: ivory works, one of the most famous in Europe; also there are some works in horn, in bone, some in lace, some sugar refineries, a little ship-building, and the fishing industry is fairly prominent; a good supply of herring and mackerel is sent daily to Paris; also there are extensive oyster beds, which are a source of profit to the inhabitants. We boarded the train about 4 o’clock p.m., and leaving Dieppe and the sea behind us, we steamed away at a rapid rate towards Paris. We passed some lovely country, rich in fruit and foliage; some most beautiful Chalets, with grounds like fairyland; also, we saw the working-class home, apparently very poor, no windows and little furniture; they seem to live out of doors, and eat very much fruit and vegetables; they appear, however, healthy and strong. We saw some one or two cemeteries, and so near we could see very strange archways of flowers or wood, or marble over the graves, and very large crucifix’s.
We had left our new found friends at Dieppe, so now we were more alone to enjoy each others company, and to speak of the scenery and places as we passed them. In about an hour-and-an-half we reached Rouen. A very large and important railway station. Here we stayed a little while, and we could see the town was large and important. It was formerly the capital of the province of Normandy. It is one of the best commercial centres in France. It has been called the Manchester of France on account of its great cotton manufactories, producing goods to the value of 80,000,000 francs annually. It has also manufactories of hosiery, silk and wool fabrics, hardware and machinery. It is an important sea-port, as it has a harbour that can receive steamers of 600 tons. It has a population of about 150,000. The Cathedral of Notre Dame, built between 1207 and 1210, is a fine Gothic building. The spire is nearly 500 feet high. In this old Cathedral rests the remains of Rollo, first Duke of Normandy, and his son William.
M. B. Edwards, in a poem, says of this old-world Cathedral:—
“The isles grow dim, and as by winding ways,
Eager I climb St. Onen’s giddy height,
The silver censers vanish from my gaze
As shooting stars upon a dusky night
I hear the chanting vespers at my feet
Like wordless water, music fair and sweet.
“On priest and acolyte and people falls,
From western window many a sapphire ray;
The sculptured knights within the niched walls
Look not more mute and marble-like than they,
Living and dead with fingers clasped seem praying
God and the angels hear what they are saying.
“The city gleams with lights that come and go,
The hills are cut against the opal west;
The river hath a soft and onward flow
As some tired spirit fain to seek its rest,
While from the far outlying mists of green
Tinkle some vesper bells of Church unseen.
“Monk, Martyr, Saint, and paladin arise
Around me now in pinnacled array;
An hour ago they seemed to touch the skies,
At last I stand as near to heaven as they,
And at last ’mid this mute companionship of stone
I cannot feel that I am quite alone.”
CHAPTER II.
Arrival
