Читать книгу Journal of a Residence in America - Fanny Kemble - Страница 6

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It rained all night, and in the morning the wind had died away, and we lay rocking, becalmed on the waveless waters. At eight o'clock they brought me some breakfast, after which I got up; while dressing, I could not help being amused at hearing the cocks crowing, and the cow lowing, and geese and ducks gabbling, as though we were in the midst of a farm-yard. At half-past ten, having finished my toilet, I emerged; and Miss—— and I walked upon deck. The sea lay still, and grey, without ridge or sparkle, a sheet of lead; the sky was of the same dull colour. The deck was wet and comfortless. We were but just off Holyhead: two or three ships stood against the horizon, still as ourselves. The whole was melancholy:—and, sadder than all, sat a poor woman, dressed in mourning, in a corner of the deck; she was a steerage passenger, and I never saw so much sorrow in any face. Poor thing! poor thing! was her heart aching for home, and kindred left behind her? It made mine ach to look at her. We walked up and down for an hour. I like my companion well; she is a nice young quiet thing, just come from a country home. Came down, and began getting out books for my German lesson, but, turning rather awful, left my learning on the floor, and betook myself to my berth. Slept nearly till dinner-time. At dinner I took my place at table, but presently the misery returned; and getting up, while I had sufficient steadiness left to walk becomingly down the room, I came to my cabin; my dinner followed me thither, and, lying on my back, I very comfortably discussed it. Got up, devoured some raspberry-tart and grapes, and, being altogether delightful again, sat working and singing till tea-time: after which, wrote journal, and now to bed. How strange it seems to hear these Americans speaking in English of the English!—"Oh, hame, hame, hame wad I be,"—but it is not time to sing that yet.