From the Thames to the Tiber

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Joseph Wardle. From the Thames to the Tiber

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

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We had settled to have a holiday—not a mere pic-nic, not a week-end at Blackpool, or a tour of a few days in the Isle of Man—but a real first-class, out-and-out trip.  Where then is it to be?  Why, to Rome and back, came the reply.  From St. Paul’s in London, the largest city in the world, to St. Peter’s in Rome, one of the great cities of the ancient world.

“To Rome!” my friends said in astonishment.

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Many of my readers will be quite familiar with the streets, shops, bazaars and churches of this great hive of human life, human industry, and human skill.  A good night’s rest and we rose refreshed for our journey, now it is to Paris.  We had very little difficulty in 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.

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