Forty Thousand Miles Over Land and Water

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Ethel Gwendoline Vincent. Forty Thousand Miles Over Land and Water

PREFACE

CHAPTER I. ACROSS THE ATLANTIC

CHAPTER II. NEW YORK, HUDSON RIVER, AND NIAGARA FALLS

CHAPTER III. THE DOMINION OF CANADA

CHAPTER IV. THE AMERICAN LAKES, AND THE CENTRES OF LEARNING, FASHION, AND GOVERNMENT

CHAPTER V. TO THE FAR WEST

CHAPTER VI. SAN FRANCISCO AND THE YOSEMITE VALLEY

CHAPTER VII. ACROSS THE PACIFIC

CHAPTER VIII. COACHING THROUGH THE NORTH ISLAND OF NEW ZEALAND; ITS HOT LAKES AND GEYSERS

CHAPTER IX. THE SOUTH ISLAND OF NEW ZEALAND: ITS ALPS AND MOUNTAIN LAKES

CHAPTER X. TASMANIA AND VICTORIA

CHAPTER XI. NEW SOUTH WALES AND QUEENSLAND

CHAPTER XII. WITHIN THE BARRIER REEF, THROUGH TORRES' STRAITS TO BATAVIA

CHAPTER XIII. NETHERLANDS INDIA

CHAPTER XIV. THE STRAITS SETTLEMENTS

CHAPTER XV. THE METROPOLIS OF INDIA AND ITS HIMALAYAN SANATORIUM

CHAPTER XVI. THE SHRINES OF THE HINDU FAITH

CHAPTER XVII. THE SCENES OF THE INDIAN MUTINY

CHAPTER XVIII. THE CITIES OF THE GREAT MOGUL

CHAPTER XIX. GWALIOR AND RAJPUTANA

CHAPTER XX. THE HOME OF THE PARSEES

CHAPTER XXI. THROUGH EGYPT—HOMEWARDS

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We shudder as we look at the white pall drawn closely around us. The decks and rigging are dripping, and everything on board is saturated with moisture. We feel strangely alone. When hark! A discordant screech, a hideous howl belches forth into the still air, to be immediately smothered and lost in the fog. It is the warning cry of the fog-horn.

We are on board the White Star steamer Germanic, in mid-Atlantic, not far off the great ice-banks of Newfoundland.

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Biddle's Stairs lead down to the "Cave of the Winds." It is awe-inspiring to watch the fall from below, and yet this is only a streamlet of the great volume of the fall. What must it be inside, when the beating of the spray-like hail, the roaring of the winds, mingling with the thunder of the cataract, form a combination of the majesty of the elements on earth.

After a morning spent amongst these terrifying wonders, we had a quiet drive along the right bank of the river through Cedar Island. The thunder and roar was succeeded by quiet pools and swiftly-flowing currents, calm and clear, rippling in the afternoon sunlight. Weeping-willows, long grasses, and bending reeds whispered in the cool breezes. From the heights above we again surveyed the whole scene. And returning home once more came under the spell of the Mermaid, looming white and mysterious in the gloaming.

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