People's Pilot, Volume 3, Number 29, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 January 1894 — ACROSS THE DEEP. [ARTICLE]

ACROSS THE DEEP.

Views from Ihe Car Window, and from ‘’Shank's Ponlca.” Halle, a. s., Dec. 2, ’93. It was with great regret on our part that we were unable to visit the birth-place of Robert Burns, Scotland’s most cherished bard. But one never leaves these historic places without feelings of having only, at best, but partially seen and understood it. We left Glasgow in the morning so that we might have the benefit of a ride by day to Liverpool. As I have once before remarked, one makes a great mistake in attempting to see a country from the window of a through train. Especially is this true where distance is so short, and villages and cities so numerous and so full of historic and literary interest To pass almost in sight of the English lake country, where lived and wrote that great school of poets, who did so much to lead the attention of the public to the beauties and magnificence of English rural life; to pass within a short distance of the life scene of Wordsworth, Southey, Coleridge, Keats, Wilson and Harriet Martineau without a closer examination of the environment that could produce such a wonderful school of thinkers, is an inexcusable blunder. But this blunder was forced upon our party for want of time. As We leave Glasgow and proceed to the south we leave the more rugged portions of Scotland and learn to know more of her resources on the farm. Factories of various kinds are scarcely out of our sight, and the puffing chimney was ever a significent symbol of the commercial greatness of England. We passed through much beautiful and fertile farming country, and we also met much that was not so fertile. This section of England seemed to be especially designed for stock raising and patchy farming. There is something about an old English farm that is so different from that of an American that you are in constant attitude of admiration for the life that you see everywhere around you. Their farms have taken shape as the product of years of toil and study. The Englishman gets more out of his farm than mere dollars and cents. His lands may not be so fertile, and acres so broad, but the higher aims and ends of life are everywhere stamped with no uncertain result. The artistic instinct of the English, and their love for rural enjoyment have made their island a work of art, a thing of beauty and a joy forever. It was a familiar sight, as we dashed through ravines, along quiet brooklets, in and out of small villages, and traced our way around the foot of some rolling hill that confronted us, to see that characteristic object of the English farm —the hedge fence or stone wall as it wound its way gracefully up the hillside into the valley beyond. As a matter of the result of time the few and scattering dwellings that we saw directly on the land were of an old and simple fashion. The farms in England are somewhat larger than in Scotland, yet none are large enough for an American field. Of course there are extensive estates, but these are divided into innumerable small patches.

Our stay in Liverpool was of short duration and the impressions that the city left on my memory was that it was the dirtiest city we had so far visited. Its streets apparently did not present that solid, clean appearance that we had been accustomed to in Scotland. Being the shipping center of England it was, at the same time, a noticeable center for poverty. The wharves presented a busy appearance as they gave up and received their treasures in cargoes. Some of the great “liners” which had so recently b’oken the record for speed lay majestically and silently on the bosom of the Mersey. The river Mersey at this place expands more into a bay than a river. Good subterranean communication places the travler on the opposite she re in readiness for his first ramble into old English life and rural ■scenery. Before our party had left America we decided to walk from Liverpool to Chester, a distance of some ten miles. The consideration that had led us to such a conclusion was that the road, above all others, would give us a typical idea of what it was to be in the midst of old English life. The road that we were to traverse was the old Roman road, used at the%eginning of the Christian era, but, as a matter of fact, has been touched

up with modern constructions, but not less solid, for the Romans knew .above all, how to make a good road that would last even to the present. It was in the afternoon when we began our delightful walk to the ancient seat of the Roman occupation of Britain. We soon began to discover that English rural life presented more charms than the life that we find in many cities of America, if the appearance of their homes is to be a criterion of the happiness and comfort they contain. This road was nothing but a long-drawn-out city, for beautiful and magnificent homes, one meets at every step. There is something in an English farm and English country scenery, which is the product of so many centuries, that you cannot put in words. This section is very fertile, wheat and oats giving a good yield. In all England and Scotland we.did not meet any Indian corn. This was our first introduction to the English country seat which has made England so loved as a retreat and so beautiful in appearance. It is (he constant and natural impulse of the stranger to desire to peer into things that are shut from his view and especially these things for which he had made a special effort to see. The English country residence we had come to see, but the whole surrounding had an air of quiet seclusion which was akin to denial itself. Not that there was a bull dog to be found at every gate, but the rural home in England is made and fashioned for domestic cares and happiness, and not for the public or the intrusive American traveler. The high stone wall or neatly trimmed hedge fence is the first significant intimation that the house is private. These walls are not cold and barren, but are weighted by that lovely plant, the “ivy green,” which falls in graceful folds over the stone wall, that its cold inhospitable appearance might be rounded not only into an emblem of strength and security, yet also one of peace and happiness. At the large and substantial gate-, stands the neat little lodge of the keeper a sentinel to arrest any who would desire to invade I the quiet within. But by a stolen glimpse over the wall, if to see a thing beaqty can come under that reproachful category of stolen, betrayed beautiful walks, winding their way around through the labyrinths, copses which contrasted so strikingly with the well planned flower beds. We may consider this selfishness on the part of the Englishman to close from our view, this object of our continued admiration, but ibis nevertheless a beautiful habit to close from the public gaze any of the scenes that may be associated with home life. It is too characteristic of American life to illuminate the home, and throw the front wide open, inviting inspection, rather than hinting that the home is intended for the joys of domestic life rather than a place where the stranger or public has free access or even view. A home without privacy is no home in any worthy sense of the term. Every institution that is secret attracts the attention of mankind, and if founded upon the virtues that the family 'is founded upon it will ellicit the admiration of all in so far as it excludes the public from unhindered participation in its result.

After passing many village.we find ourselves in the city ol Chester. As the name of the city indicates it was an old Roman camp, and was first occupied by the Romans in 40 A. D. Remains of Roman occupation are still to be seen. We cannot attempt any account of the man;, and varied histone events th a have happened wi+'i'm its precincts. It was ou. fi st visit to a real walleyl town, rue old cit\ is entirely enclosed by a large stone wall built in the 13th century. A walk of some two raiftes over the top of this wall completes a delightful view of the city. The wall gates are all new, while the wall proper traces the same path as the old R>man one. From the towers one is presented with delightful views of the surrounding country over old. castles, newer homes, and famous battle fields. From one of these towers Charles I, witnessed the defeat of his troop on Roxton Moor in 1145. From this wall I saw the first English race course. The English course is much different from the American. This course was only a large, level grass lawn, with tl e track fenced in w.th a low fence. This track is obstructed with an imitation hedge fence at regular intervals, over which rider and

horse plutage. Thfe .race is a product of the old English fox hunt. The cathedral of Chester ite quite famous in the' history of architecture, but we cannot stop to consider it here. ThO'te is one institution in Chester that has made her famous, that I desire to briefly notice. It is what is known as the “Rows.” To understand what they are, a short history is necessary. They date from Roman time and have been and are to-day studiously preserved by the people. They occupy the four principal streets of the city and are the fashionable promenades of the summer evenings. They consist of a double street, or one street over the other, or rather one sidewalk over the other. This permits a double row of stores or shops. They grew from the habit of the Romans to build their houses with projections It has gradually come that the lower shops are used for the heavier wares, as groceries, hardware, etc., while those above are employed by those who deal in the lighter wares and notions. The upper “row” is built over the ceilings of the lower one. This upper street or “row” is sheltered by a roof and affords a splendid opportunity for the display of the stock in trade. It was an interesting and instructive walk around this old and unique street. Our time denied us the priviledge of visiting the palatial homes of the Duke of Westminister and Gladstone, as well as many other points of great interest. The afternoon found us in readiness to depart for the village of Litchfield, the native home of Samuel Johnson and the seat of one of the most beautiful Cathedrals of England.

S. E. SPARLING.