"It's the best groomed country I've seen," said Ronald, with a smile,
and, indeed, though the epithet was odd, it was very appropriate, for
after all the barbaric colouring they had seen at Colombo--the arid
rocks of Malta and Gibraltar, and the sandy shore of Port Said, this
wonderfully, vividly green land, with fields and well-kept hedges
cultivated down to the water's edge, looked, as the Australian said,
"well groomed."
They anchored for about two hours at Plymouth, but there was no time
to go on shore, so they gazed longingly at the quaint town so famous
in English History. The Hoe--the bowling green where Sir Francis Drake
played bowls when the Armada was descried "stretching out like a
crescent,"--and Mount Edgecumbe, which the commander of the great
fleet designed for his residence when England was conquered. Ronald
stood silent, looking at all this beauty, when a remark of Pat's made
him laugh.
"I say," said Pat, mindful of Colombo and Aden, to Chester, who was
quite inflated with patriotic pride, "will the people here come off,
and dive for pennies?"
Chester glared at him viciously, and then stalked away too indignant
to speak, while all around roared at the queerness of the remark.
"Well I thought they might," explained Pat to his grinning auditors;
"the natives did it at all the other places."
"There are no natives here confound you!" said Chester, who had
returned.
"Oh, indade!" replied Pat innocently, "this England's inhabited by
foreigners."
After this Chester concluded to leave Pat alone.
It was night when they sailed up the Channel, and they could see in
the distance the twinkling lights of Folkestone, Dover, Margate, and
all the other well-known places, and as it was the last night on
board, there was a general jubilation in the smoking-room after the
ladies had retired. Songs were sung, toasts were proposed, speeches
were made, and when the electric light was put out, candles were
produced, and the concert kept up far into the night, or rather
morning, One gentleman said he could play musical glasses, and broke
fifteen tumblers in demonstrating his ability to do so--then they had
more liquor, sang "God save the Queen," and went off to bed one by
one, and everything was quiet.
And what a curious appearance the deck presented next
morning--everyone in his best--no more flannel suits and straw
hats, but accurate frock coats and tall hats, while the ladies came
out in dresses of the newest fashions. Knots of people were talking
together--giving addresses, making appointments, and promising to
write, until it was queer to hear the jargon like this:--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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