The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 7, March, 1835Various
History
The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. I., No. 7, March, 1835
Various
American literature -- 19th century -- Periodicals
"Soon after leaving London, the Thames quite astonished me. I had no
idea it was so considerable a river. For many miles it is broad and
winding, and each shore presents fine scenery. We had a good view of
several noted towns, and remarked the superb hospital at Greenwich and
the royal dock yard at Woolwich, where ships of war are made. At
Gravesend we passed two vessels transporting convicts to Botany Bay,
and I regretted to observe that the women were more numerous than the
men.
"The motion of the English steam boats is still more disagreeable than
that of ours, but their machinery is less noisy. Coal being used for
fuel instead of wood, the passengers soon look dingy in face and
dress: therefore one should not travel in them handsomely clad, as
clothes are quickly ruined by the smoke and dust. There is no
particular hour for breakfast; each person calls for it when it suits
his pleasure, and has a table to himself. Dinner is served at five
o'clock.
"We reached Calais about eight P.M. At the custom house the officers
were not strict in their examination of our baggage; this surprised
us, for we had understood that they were always very rigid in
performing this troublesome duty. Perhaps our being Americans was the
cause of their moderation in disturbing our trunks and boxes,--for the
French like _us_ almost as much as they detest the _English_. On
landing, we were highly diverted at the scene on the Quay. The instant
we left the boat we were beset with men and boys on every side,
recommending different hotels,--and frequently cards of address were
absolutely forced into our hands. When one overheard another advising
any of us to go to a particular house, he would cry out, 'never do you
mind that fellow, ma'am, (or sir) he tells a lie; he always tells
lies!' Or, 'no such thing, sir; that house is full, sir; you can't get
in, and he _knows_ it!' Or, 'that hotel is not a good one,
sir,--indeed it is not; try mine, sir; mine's a palace to it!' and
fifty other such droll speeches, at which (tormented as we were) we
could not help laughing. Sometimes they would even seize us by the arm
and entreat us to accompany them to their hotel, if only to see how
comfortable it was. These _besiegers_ (we have since been told)
receive a trifle from every innkeeper to whom they carry a guest, and
it is their anxiety to obtain this fee, that renders them so annoying
to travellers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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