The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 5, January, 1835Various
History
The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 5, January, 1835
Various
American literature -- 19th century -- Periodicals
The last wave of your handkerchief, when we parted from you at
Southampton, made me feel quite sad for some time; but the bustling
scene around me at length diverted my thoughts from their gloomy
course, and I employed myself in observing the rapid movements of the
sailors, as they obeyed the orders of their captain, who had the voice
of a stentor, and took no pains to soften it. Our fellow passengers
were an elderly gentleman and his two sons, whom he was going to place
at a boarding school near Havre. We reached this celebrated port in the
evening, and I am happy to tell you (_now that it is over_,) not
without an adventure. Our parents and Edgar were not very sea sick, but
alas! for Sigismund and myself; we were the _Jobs_ of the party. I mean
as regards _suffering_, not _patience_; for of the last we both stood
in need. I already detest the sea, and dread re-crossing it. But all
this time you are unacquainted with our adventure; it was this. When
within a few miles of Havre, a sudden squall arose, and for more than
an hour our situation was truly terrifying. Fortunately the wind blew
from the land, or we should have been wrecked on the "iron bound coast"
which was very near us. The sails of our small vessel flapped with such
violence, that the captain says they must have been torn to pieces if
they had not been perfectly new. We have occupied ourselves since our
arrival here, in walking about the town and riding in its neighborhood.
Yesterday we visited the two light houses on Cape la Héve, and ascended
one of them to view from its roof the surrounding country, which is
beautiful, and bounded on three sides by the ocean. We purchased of an
old woman residing in the light house, some specimens of shell work;
and I chose for you a little dog, ingeniously made of small white
shells, whose tiny black eyes shine as brightly as your own. This
morning we surveyed the Frescati Baths, and the reservoir for oysters
in front of them. The baths are kept in elegant order, and the spacious
mansion containing them presents a handsome exterior. I did not relish
the oysters; they taste of copperas, as do those we get at home--and
this is natural enough, as they come out of the same waters. On the
shore, contiguous to the bathing establishment, we witnessed the
amusing spectacle of ladies and gentlemen in Turkish costume,
struggling in the briny element, whose billows almost threw them down,
although supported by the arms of sturdy sailors, and clinging to ropes
suspended from stakes on the beach. Last night we went to the theatre,
and were much entertained by the performance of Lepeintre, an excellent
comic actor from Paris. Havre is enclosed by lofty walls, outside of
which are deep moats, and the borders of these are covered with a
bright verdure. In the town there is a pleasant walk shaded by lime
trees, and the square in front of the theatre is laid off in gravel
walks, with seats on each side. Here the gentry of the city, and hosts
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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