You know, madam, that when we was here before, we was in France, and a
happy woman was I to be there, although so much younger than now I
couldn't properly enjoy it; but even then France was only part of the
road to Italy, which, alas, we never got to. Some day, however, I shall
float in a gondola and walk amid the ruins of ancient Rome, and if Jone
is too sick of travel to go with me, it may be necessary for Corinne to
see the world, and I shall take her.
Now I must finish this letter and bid good-by to beautiful Britain,
which has made us happy and treated us well in spite of some
comparisons in which we was expected to be on the wrong side, but which
hurt nobody, and which I don't want even to think of at such a moment
as this.
Letter Number Twenty-seven
NEW YORK
I send you this, madam, to let you know that we arrived here safely
yesterday afternoon, and that we are going to-day to Jone's mother's
farm where Corinne is.
I liked sailing from Southampton because when I start to go to a place
I like to go, and when we went home before and had to begin by going
all the way up to Liverpool by land, and then coming all the way back
again by water, and after a couple of days of this to stop at
Queenstown and begin the real voyage from there, I did not like it,
although it was a good deal of fun seeing the bumboat women come aboard
at Queenstown and telescope themselves into each other as they hurried
up the ladder to get on deck and sell us things.
We had a very good voyage, with about enough rolling to make the dining
saloon look like some of the churches we've seen abroad on weekdays
where there was services regular, but mighty small congregations.
When we got in sight of my native shore, England, Scotland, and even
the longed-for Italy, with her palaces and gondolas, faded from my
mind, and my every fibre tingled with pride and patriotism. We reached
our dock about six o'clock in the afternoon, and I could scarcely stand
still, so anxious was I to get ashore. There was a train at eight which
reached Rockbridge at half-past nine, and there we could take a
carriage and drive to the farm in less than an hour, and then Corinne
would be in my arms, so you may imagine my state of mind - Corinne
before bedtime! But a cloud blacker than the heaviest fog came down
upon me, for while we was standing on the deck, expecting every minute
to land, a man came along and shouted at the top of his voice that no
baggage could be examined by the custom-house officers after six
o'clock, and the passengers could take nothing ashore with them but
their hand-bags, and must come back in the morning and have their
baggage examined. When I heard this my soul simply boiled within me! I
looked at Jone, and I could see he was boiling just as bad.
"Jone," said I, "don't say a word to me."
"I am not going to say a word," said he, and he didn't. All our
belongings was in our trunks. Jone didn't carry any hand-bag, and I had
only a little one which had in it three newspapers, which we bought
from the pilot, a tooth-brush, a spool of thread and some needles, and
a pair of scissors with one point broken off. With these things we had
to go to a hotel and spend the night, and in the morning we had to go
back to have our trunks examined, which, as there was nothing in them
to pay duty on, was waste time for all parties, no matter when it was
done.
[Illustration: "Jone didn't carry any hand-bag, and I had only a little
one"]
That night, when I was lying awake thinking about this welcome to our
native land, I don't say that I hauled down the stars and stripes, but
I did put them at half mast. When we arrived in England we got ashore
about twelve o'clock at night, but there was the custom-house officers
as civil and obliging as any people could be, ready to tend to us and
pass us on. And when I thought of them, and afterward of the lordly
hirelings who met us here, I couldn't help feeling what a glorious
thing it would be to travel if you could get home without coming back.
Jone tried to comfort me by telling me that we ought to be very glad we
don't like this sort of thing. "In many foreign countries," said he,
"people are a good deal nagged by their governments and they like it;
we don't like it, so haul up your flag."
I hauled it up, and it's flying now from the tiptop of my tallest mast.
In an hour our train starts, and I shall see Corinne before the sun
goes down.
End of Pomona's Travels, by Frank R. Stockton
