Thursday, May 8, 2014

No, give me my immortal Wagner: June 2 - 25, 1880


Wednesday, 2 June 1880. I passed such a delightful morning on the beach. While the boys were bathing, I sat near them on the sand under shelter of a small rowboat and read “Jeff Brigg’s Love Story” by Bret Harte. I find it lovely and very sad & poetical although it is a picture of “raw life”.  

At 1 P.M., we took a carriage for the day and went to Sandown, passing through Shanklin, where we dismounted and walked through what they call the Shanklin Clime, a very lovely valley, filled with ferns and wild-flowers. We found a very officious old man in the village who sold us some shells. The weather is delightful. Our coachman is very desirous of initiating us into the beauties of his country and pointed out to us all the ’ouses and ’ills of any importance.

We dined at Sandown at 5 P.M. at the Sandown Hotel, which faces on the beach. I read some more about my big hearted, honest Jeff and am more infatuated than ever. How thoroughly I hate his little female tormentor!  

Had a charming drive home. It is cold enough for shawls. Reached Marine Hotel at 8 P.M. The tall dark personage, who wears white leggings on his boots and whom I designate as the “Solitary Man” because he is so delightfully averse to other society, was sitting on the verandah [as] we drove up. [Flowers are pasted to the page, labeled: “Flowers from the Shanklin Clime, 2 June.”]  

Thursday, 3 June 1880. What confusion this morning, before starting, about the trunks! At the last moment, when everything was about to be locked up, Adeline found my drawer full of linen and I found Mame’s shoes and various other articles under the bed. As a last resort, these things were stuffed into the tray of the only remaining unlocked trunk and right on top of my pretty blue & white muslin dress! Adieu fraicheur [farewell freshness]! The coach had to wait for us, too, for Mamie, Edgar, Adeline and I had trotted off in the town to buy candy & pictures.  

Finally, a few minutes after 10 A.M., our party had climbed up on the coach, two with the driver who was gruff & important, and the rest on the seat behind. We had four horses and went in a trot up hill & down hill although there were other passengers besides ourselves. It was cold and windy. When I changed seats with Henry and sat next to the fat driver, I nearly froze. The cold seemed to penetrate my thick mantle.  

The scenery was quite pretty, though nothing like we expected. The greatest beauty lay in the bright coloured wild flowers and the “’hadmirable ’edges” as a gentleman called them behind me. I confess, his illiterate manner of speech and entire absence of h’s (except where they were merely ornamental) rather dampened my enthusiasm for the pretty green glens that characterize England’s Garden of Eden. We changed horses twice on the way; I think the distance is 22 miles. This changing rather annoyed me because I became fond of the horses being seated nearly on their broad backs and did not like to part with them.

Freshwater

We reached Freshwater at 1.30 P.M. (Lamberts Hotel) and lunched on mutton, potatoes & cabbage, of course. The hotel and village, which are upon a kind of open bay, remind us somewhat of the Lakes of Killarny.

Our Would-be Excursion to the Needles!

At 4 P.M., we all (including Adeline) started over the cliff to walk to the Needles, a few upright rocks quite at the southwest extremity of the Island, a distance of three miles from the hotel. After dragging ourselves on for an hour until we reached a certain sign board we had been pantingly aspiring to, we females sank down exhausted and left to Henry and Edgar the glory of having walked to the Needles.

Left alone and on the summit of a bare lonely mountain, with the wind blowing oh! so hard, we wrapped ourselves up in shawls and lay down on the grass side by side. It was a complete rest (I even dozed), but I am not sure that it was exactly the most prudent thing in the world to do. However it was agreeable, as a great many doubtfully good things are, and we were isolated from the whole mutton-eating, unpoetical English nation. The waves sounded deliciously, dashing up on the white, bare rock, and the crows flew so near to us that once we thought they mistook us for some appetizing carrion. The boys were visible to us now and then, and looked like small-sized ants scuttling alone on the hill side for an afternoon ramble. When the ants approached us in our oasis at the end of, perhaps, an hour and a half, we were in a state of freezing, far below zero.

We came home much faster than we had gone out. People always do, and it reminds me of Mark Twain’s description of the ascent and descent of Mount Vesuvius. We had very good broiled mackerel for supper. How glad I am not to be in stupid old Ventnor any more! Mamie and I are trying to persuade Mama to come in and sleep with us tonight. We have two large beds in our room. [Flowers are pasted to the page, labeled: “From Freshwater—one sees that I was not in a good humor when I arranged this poor bouquet.”]

 Friday, 4th June 80. Mama did sleep with me last night.

 Excursion to Carisbrooke Castle.

This morning at 10, after a breakfast eaten vis-a-vis [opposite] a gentleman with very obtrusive red blisters on the end of his nose, we all started in a wagonette (it reminded me of Scotland) for Carisbrooke Castle and Newport (Isle of Wight). It is still so cold that we were obliged to draw our water proof hoods up over our ears.

We reached the Castle at 12 and an old guide took us under his wing and conducted us to the castle gate, explaining all the while how the castle happened to be there, how King Charles I tried to escape by the window, and last but not least, why the photographic views he (the guide) sold were better than those the pedlars at the gate sold. All this in a most refreshing English that sent cold draughts down your back.

The view of the castle, as one stands at a little distance, is very beautiful. The rugged walls lie nestled in a perfect feather bed of foliage from which a turret peeps out now and then. We passed under the grand old gate way and I wondered how many hundreds of beautiful maidens & gallant knights, such men as we no longer see in this century of ours, gaily caparisoned, had met a welcome from each veiled window and stopped to listen to the echo of their light laughter ring again in…

 [The next two pages were pasted together in a small spot at the top. Several words are lost.] ... the stern …. Poor King Charles has daub… make in their shadow … the sighing wind was … his soul away to its home… Elisabeth his daughter … here her childish dreams … and finally went to sleep peacefully, to wake no more in her sunny castle. And thus Time lays his crumbling finger on what was once alive with young life and lit with many smiles of happy maidens. Oh! The chivalry of men that the world has known and knows no more!

The well of the castle is very important, as it is said to contain the purest water in the country. There is a large wooden wheel attached to it, 300 years old, in which a donkey walks and thus brings up the buckets of water. One bucket contains 16 gallons. The man told us it took a donkey 18 months to learn how to pull up water by walking around in the wheel. The donkey was therefore an object of curiosity to us all.

[A drawing of “The Gate of Carisbrooke Castle” on what appears to be sandpaper is pasted (sloppily, hence the problem with the damaged pages) into the diary, with the notation, “From Carisbrooke Castle.”]

Good Lunch at Bugle Hotel.

After visiting the keep and castle grounds, we returned to where the wagonette was waiting and drove on to the Bugle Hotel, Newport, a very short distance. We had an excellent lunch of lobster & veal cutlets! We found some amusement in looking over the “Visitor’s Book” or Register. These are some quotations: 

                                    Dear Messrs. Mew,
                                    If you only knew
                                    What a good dinner we’ve had;
                                    Of all the dishes
The soup was delicious,
                                    In fact, there was nothing bad!

        Someone else wrote underneath...Except the poetry.

The eating was good. We have not enjoyed a meal as much since we left France. We left Newport at 4 P.M. on the train for Ryde. Reached Ryde at 5.30 P.M. (Royal Pier Hotel) and Mamie, Adeline and I walked in the town until we were driven in by the rain. Felt rather gloomy tonight and have nothing to read to enliven me a bit.

Saturday 5th June 1880. Anniversary of Mama’s Wedding Day.

Adeline and I took a long, long walk in the town and bought a few little things. We left on the boat at 2 P.M. for Portsmouth, where we arrived at 3 P.M. and took the train for London.

Beastly Chemin de Fer [Train] Again.

How glad I am we are at last bound that way. Our disappointment in the Isle of Wight has been immense. We reached London at 5.30 P.M. and, after having our trunks placed on the top of two four-wheeled vehicles, were off for the Royal Cambridge Hotel where we had telegraphed for rooms. The hotel is full, as is everything at present in London, it being en pleine saison [in high season] and Mama, Mamie and I are rather uncomfortably lodged in the same room. What a beautiful apartment we had in this same hotel four years ago! London strikes one very unfavourably after bright, beautiful Paris. It is raining just a little.

Sunday, 6 June 1880. Mamie, Henry, Edgar, Adeline & I started to go to the Catholic church this morning but, on finding it full, left and took a wet walk instead. Mama is not feeling well. Henry dined with Martinez de Hoz.

Monday 7 June. Henry went out to order his clothes with Martinez.  

Tuesday, 8 June. Mama, Edgar & I did a little shopping in the afternoon. Met Marie Caldwell in Regent Street, but she was busily engaged talking to a friend and did not recognize us.

Patti in Faust.

Mama, Mamie and I went to the Royal Covent Garden Opera House to hear [Adolina] Patti & [Ernesto] Nicolini in Faust. We were very well dressed—one must a great deal for the opera here. Patti sang as I have never heard her yet & Nicolini also did well. But the music was far from moving me. No, give me my immortal Wagner—or Glück or Bach! No other music can send such thrills of passionate joy and sorrow. What we crave for is to be lifted out of this material sphere of ours and thrust into that region of idealism where Sentiment exists in her true form, untarnished by the worldliness of this sad world.

I had almost hoped to see some friendly face in the great lighted opera house. Perhaps Lord Compton—perhaps Stevens or Loftus. But we were doomed to disappointment—and it would have been delightful to look into Willy Compton’s saucy eyes once more. Some of the toilettes were excrutiating—others quite passable. The men struck me as looking more stupid than the ladies. Indifferent women are bad enough, but indifferent men are simply unbearable! I don’t know why I am such a little goose as to expostulate at such length—I fancy it won’t change matters much.

 Patti did not look very pretty, I thought; she is rather too mature and stout a Margarethe. Nicolini does not seem wrapt up in her. I wonder what is the attraction.

Wednesday, 9 June, 1880. We had a letter from Nini this morning and were very glad indeed, as her other letters were miscarried. I am, at present, deeply interested in “The Wooing O’t” by Mrs. Alexander [the nom de plume of Victorian author John Sutherland]—such a cleverly written book. Mamie and I do nothing but read all day. [A flower is pasted to the page, with the caption: There was a wedding breakfast in the hotel and this lovely marguerite helped to ornament the table.] 

Thursday, 10 June 80. Have been reading desperately all day and did not go out until late. Adeline and I went to Hyde Park and spent a very pleasant time till 7 P.M. There were crowds of people. I have not yet seen one interestinglooking personage! and begin to despair of them altogether. There are certainly no Mr. Traffords, although Lord Torchesters are numerous enough [Traffords and Torchester are characters in The Wooing O’t.] I finished my dear book late tonight and am sorry the three delightful volumes are ended; although I enter too much into books to be quite good for me, I think. 

Friday, 11 June 80. Mama and I did a little shopping and bought brushes at Barrets, Picadilly, the same place we bought so many things, preparatory to our trip on the Continent four long years ago. I say long—it seems almost a life-time to me!! Martinez dined with us and spent the evening—staid till nearly 11 P.M. and we were all so sleepy. Saturday, 12th June 80. Henry went after lunch with Martinez to meet Gibbons at the station. Mama and I walked in Hyde Park between 12 N. & 2 P.M. (the fashionable hour) and found Rotten Row literally black with people and horses. [Hyde Park’s Rotten Row, where the fashionable rode or drove, was similar to the Bois de Bologne in Paris.] It was a very beautiful sight but an uncomfortable crowd. Met Martinez & Gibbons, who walked a little way with us. We teaze Gibbons with his suspicion of whiskers. 

Polo Match. 

At 3 P.M., Mrs. Martinez de Hoz came to call and take Mama, Mamie and me, in her carriage, to a polo match in Hurlingham Park, a most beautiful place. There was a band of military music and a great, but very select crowd of people.  

Mrs. M. de Hoz is simply bewitching and I think one of the most beautiful women I ever met. She is a brunette with a very white pale complexion, exquisite features and oh! best of all, such charming manners.  

A Spanish lady, who has married an Englishman, & her two sons were introduced—Messrs. Shore, if I remember rightly. The young men appeared to be either too embarrassed or too indifferent to pay Mamie & me much attention. What great babies the English men of fashion are!  

The match did not interest many, although Mamie and I should have preferred it to looking at the people, if we had been left in peace. It is very exciting. I imparted my fears of the heavy mallet hitting the horses’ legs to one Mr. Shaw. He said the best player had killed a man with the mallet last year. He seemed to think it a matter of very small importance. In fact, I gathered that a death or two only added to their reputation as polo players. My companion was a mercenary wretch, in addition to being so cold blooded, and confessed that, were he the winner of a race, he would much prefer having a sum of money to the gold cup.  

We took tea on the lawn—it was too enchanting. The pretty coloured garden costumes made a beautiful contrast with the rich green of the trees & lawn, studded with daisies. We met Martinez on horseback in Hyde Park on our way home. He rides to perfection. We are quite in love with dear Martinez.

Delightful News. 

We received a letter from Cousin Oscar, whilst dining, saying he would probably be with us here the 16 or 17 of this month. We were delighted and so startled. Henry has gone to the theatre with Martinez & Gibbons. [The next page consists of an outline labeled “Length of Henry’s boot. 12th June 1880;” the top of a strawberry pasted to the page, labeled “A strawberry that Mama ate in five bites. London, Royal Cambridge;” and a small envelope with the notation, “Things I must not forget.” Inside the envelope is a calling card that reads: Josè Martinez de Hoz, 105 Gloucester Place, Portman Square, W. Also included is a note, in Ada’s hand: “Doctor Good made me promise in the last private interview I had with him in Paris, firstly that I would try to make a wedding tour to Paris (& to him); secondly, that I would write & let him know if I ever had any great trouble or sorrow. He asked me if I thought I could ever make up my mind to promise my husband to love and obey him. He has found me averse to making promises of any sort. I hope my husband will be like him just a little. He is a wonderful man. He is very fascinating. I think he reads poor little me like an open book. Perhaps this accounts for my never feeling quite at my ease in his presence.—12 June 80.] 

Sunday, 13 June 80. While we were at breakfast this morning, Martinez brought a note from his Mama to ask us to lunch at 1.30.

Luncheon with Mrs. M. De Hoz 

Mama, Henry and I went and spent a very pleasant afternoon, not leaving till 4 P.M. Garcia, the S. American minister, a young Spanish lady whose name I did not catch, and Gibbons were there and after luncheon others dropped in, an American lady & the Countess Arscaught, among others. The young Spanish lady was very sweet and lovely. We had a very long chat together. What an ideal hostess Mrs. de Hoz makes! 

Saturday, 19 June. Mrs. M. de Hoz called today. Received a letter from Cousin Oscar, who has arrived in Liverpool. 

Sunday, 20 June 80. Henry came back from Kent today, where he & Martinez have been spending a few days with Gibbons. Mamie, Henry and I called on Mrs. Martinez. It was her reception day and there were a great many people there. Saw the Spanish girl whose name is Almantez. 

Monday, 21st June 1880. Moved today to Charing Cross Hotel.  

Arrival of Cousin Oscar. 

Cousin Oscar arrived this evening at 8.30 P.M. Henry & Edgar were at the station to meet him. He is looking well, I think—has really rosy cheeks and does not look older than 22. How funny it is to see him again.  

Tuesday, 22nd June 80. Mrs. Martinez and Martinez have gone to Paris for two days. 

Friday, 25th June. Martinez called today.

“I will marry him or no one.” February 21 - May 31, 1880


The Third Journal

February 21, 1880 -June 28, 1882

 

Pasted on the inside cover page are the following:

 

“Acrostic by John M. Glover:”

                        A cheek of rival roses made
                        Doubtful war of white & red
                        An eye like violets filled with dew
 
                        Such fancy foot in tiny shoe
                        Enchanting Cinderella drew
                        My star I would pinch her forth full son
                        Perforce if Ada’s shoe she won
                        Long lashes on azure eyes
                        Entrancing sounds that softly rise

                        And midst the pearls & rubies brave
                        More sweet than music for loves solve
                        Entreat you I her name impart
                        She’ll teach thereby thy flutt’ring heart. 

*

 A newspaper clipping with the caption, “Sent me at White Sulpher, Va, July 1881”:

 A Future

ADA.

           
            The years will bear a weight of burdened pain
            For me. The fair skies of another summer’ll come again,
            And bring no token of glad minstrelsy
            Love-given.

O, happy Love! O, Love so fair, so sweet
                        And yet to die of your own fullness! Was it meet
                        The summer’s gone so swiftly? Autumn winds
                        Blow cold

            To-day. The summer birds are still. Are fled
            The drifting, misty summer clouds. The summer roses dead
            And dead a summer love. ’Tis true, I know
            Another

                        Year will bring another summer. And yet
                        The bright, swift days of this one past, will not let me forget
                        ‘Fore that one’s dawning, must come snow, and ice, and
                        Winter’s chill.

            Love is a cruel thing. We thought ’twas kind.
            We did not know ’twould leave neither hope, nor peace of mind
            In’ts fleeting; else we had heed fuller been
            Of’ts winning.

                        O, cruel Love, that wooed with sweetest smile,
                        So weak a thing you seemed, so innocent of guile,
                        Your bonds a silken thread. To-day their iron
                        Heav’ly weights.

*

Saturday, 21st February, 1880. We have been exchanging so ridiculously many telegrams with Mama about my dress for Krauses’ ball. Mama wanted to send me one, but I preferred having my old one done over.

This morning Tante Clio, Mamie and I took a little walk to the Kreuzberg. It is windy, but the sun shines and the air is pleasant. Tante Clio, Helene and Gertrude went to a little party this evening at Frau Dr. Hirschfeld’s. Tante Gretchen does not feel very well. She told us tonight she believed Verschner was about to be engaged. I confess this piece of news rather stunned me.  

Sunday, 22nd Feb. 1880. I had intended going to bed early tonight, but forgot myself and did not retire until after ten. 

Monday, 23rd Feb. 1880. Tante Gretchen, Lulu and Gertrude accompanied me to the Leipzigerstr. this morning to buy fresh flowers for this evening. I have a frightful head-ache this morning and do not feel like going to a ball. It is always so—but at the last moment my feet begin to dance.

Krauses’ Soirée Musicale and Ball.

 June 12th 1880, London. I have always been intending to write an account of this famous ball but, not having done so immediately, have lost interest in it now and am far from being able to do it justice.

Nini accompanied me. She wore black décolletée [with a low cut neckline] & I, blue décolletée. General Verdi was being very attentive and v. Balnekow distressingly so. His pointed attentions annoyed me not a little and gave rise to several uncharitable remarks. I was therefore not surprised to receive his letter a few days afterwards.

Flora von Krause did not make her appearance, under pretense of a severe cold. We afterwards learned that the poor girl had been very unhappy, her father having refused to sanction her engagement with an officer whom she loved and whose only fault was poverty. “I will marry him or no one,” she said, and I believe she is to have her own way after all. However, it was not settled when I went to tell her goodbye, and she was not only thin and white but had such a weary restless look in her eyes. They say, for several days she refused food.

[A small envelope is pasted at the top of the next page, labeled, “What I found pinned to the bouquet. Monday, 1st March 80.” Inside is a calling card that reads: OTTO FRHR. VON VERSCHNER, Second Lieutenant im Hessischen Füsilier Regiment No. 80, p.p.c. ]

 Monday, 1st March 1880. Nini, Marguerite, Mamie, Edgar and I left Berlin at 12 M. for Paris. Count Valles, von Verschner, Messrs. Pierce & Brown (friends of Nini) were at the depot to see us off. v. Verschner had sent Mamie & me very lovely bouquets which we held in our hands as the train moved off.

At Hannover, where we arrived at 4 P.M. we took Henry on. The “old cock,” Dr. & Frau Wolfes, Ewing and Martines were at the depot to see him off. We are all jolly and exceedingly comfortable in our cozy little sleeping car. Marguerite seems the saddest of all at leaving Berlin. I sometimes wonder if she really was fond of Heinrichs. She is so impressionable and such a little goose sometimes. 

2nd March to 26th May 1880. Resumé. There is no record of this happy spring time spent in Paris, for the days were far too full to allow of the amount of scribbling in the journals we had done in Berlin.

We moved directly to a charming apartment au premier [on the first floor] (I think)—53 Ave. Marceau (Ancienne Av. Josephine). At this time, we formed the acquaintance of Mrs. Caduc & her daughters. The former often accompanied me to “Rodrigues,” where I spent so many tiresome matinees (afternoons were taken up in drives in Mama’s swell new coupe just furnished for her by the carriage makers. As Dr. Good found me somewhat anemique [anemic], I undertook a fresh air cure, which was very delightful while it lasted, even if not of lasting benefit. I drove every morning with Nini or Adeline at seven A.M. to the Pré Catelan in the Bois, where I breakfasted on black bread & milk freshly milked & foaming. Then came my stroll with the carriage following, so that the moment I felt fatigued I might jump in. Thus the time passed, dresses, bonnets, drives & amusements occupying every moment.

Tuesday, 2 March. I spent a restless night in the narrow little bed. I was so nervous and imagined all kinds of horrors were going to happen to us before morning. Thank God, we arrived safe and well in Paris in time to eat breakfast with darling Mama, who looked so handsome in her red and gold embroidered robe de chambre [bathrobe]. Staying at the Hotel de Londres.

Wednesday, 26th May, 1880. We left Paris (Mama, Mamie, Henry, Edgar, Adeline & I) at 1 P.M. for Rouen. Mrs. Caduc, Nini and Marguerite were at the station to see us off. We had had a tearful leavetaking from Cora & Florence Caduc and our servants at the apartment.

Rouen.

We arrived at Rouen at 4 P.M. (Hotel d’Angleterre) and dined. Went in tramway to “Jardin des Plantes [Botanical Garden],” where we found quiet until 8. Took strawberries and seltzer water before going to bed. It has been intensely warm all day. We ate supper in our night gowns, being too hot to keep on our clothes.

Rouen is a very queer old place—reminds me somewhat of Amsterdam. The streets are narrow and there is little traffic, except on the quays, which are alive with men and vessels.

Thursday, 27th May 1880. This morning we went to visit the Cathedral, which is grand. From the outside, it looks as if a breath would scatter the crumbling old ruin, but the heavy stone pillars give it a very solid look in the interior. After having seen the tomb of Richard Coeur de Lion [the Lionhearted] and George d’Amboise, Mama and I heard mass while the other children went up in the iron steeple with a guide. It was rather chilly in the church, however, and instead of hearing mass out, we walked a little way down the street to St. Maclou church, where there were a great many children making their “premiere [first] communion.” The children joined us and we went to the “Place de la Pucelle” where Jeanne d’Arc was burnt. There is a very pretty statue of her there now. Here we took a carriage and drove around the city. Left Rouen at 3.20 P.M. for the Hâvre.

Hâvre.

 Reached Hâvre at 4.30 P.M. Hôtel Frascati. Our rooms are right on the ocean. We are all wild with delight to be so near the sea. We threw open the window to let the fresh, salt air blow in on our tired dusty faces—and the roar of the big green waves was oh! so intoxicating. The little white-sailed crafts mount the waves so lustily and the setting sun casts deep yellow and red shadows on them alternately. And the sky is like one great blue sapphire. We ate supper on a glass-covered verandah facing our beloved sea. After supper we walked out on the pier. The wind is very heavy and the sea consequently rough. We were lulled to sleep by the dull roar of the waves and the beach. The sea fascinates, intoxicates me. 

Friday, 28th May 1880. This morning Mama & the children drove in the town.

A Quiet Afternoon.

I was happy to curl myself up in the window sill and watch the peasant women dry their clothes on the beach. They brought their babies and their sewing with them and stitched away in the glaring sun while their washing was being dried.

I love to watch these people sunning themselves. They are more charitable and more Christian than me, I think, and happier, I know. I sometimes wonder how God can love us all alike—I should think he would prefer those simple minded peasants, who look Poverty in the face and are happy, to the weary blasé throng of the “upper ten thousand” who are satiated with pleasure, bloated with slander, and who have no time for religion.

The chamber maid of the hotel surprised us very much by asking us if we had not been at the hotel des Rocher Noises at Trouville three years ago. It seems she had remembered us and recognized us, although I think we have all changed somewhat since then. What a happy time we spent at Trouville. I was still so very young.

We found out tonight that Mamie’s and my cloaks have been left at the hotel in Rouen. Have written to proprietor.

On Board Steamer “Wolf”.

We left Hâvre at 9 P.M. on the little steamer for Southampton. A great many English people are on board—among others a young aspirant who has been impertinent enough to follow Mamie and me about all evening. It is intensely cold and the wind is fierce in its fury. We shipped several small seas as I stood at the very bow with Henry, holding on for dear life, and the salt water saturated my new Virst hat. [Virst was considered one of the premiere designers of ladies’ fashions in Paris.] 

A certain young couple interested me very much. She was not more than 17, and he was divinely tall and fair and enveloped in a long black ulster and hood from head to foot. As it was very dark, I first took him for her mother and admired the loving protecting way in which he (or she) clasped her light slender body in his (or her) arms. I had oh! such a hearty laugh all to myself when I found out she was not her mother but her young husband. Afterwards, he lay his whole black length on the wide bench near the pilot wheel and put his head in her lap. I believe they were very happy. All this time, I was in the very best of spirits and not dreaming of being sea-sick.
 
A Restless Night.
 
But, when I went down to the ladies' cabin to prepare for going to bed, it took all my strength of character to keep from being ill. An American lady was in a berth in our stateroom, and Mamie, Mama and I in the others. Mama broke down immediately and lay down without even taking off her corset. I fought against being sick and kept saying my prayers over and over to keep from thinking of the motion of the vessel. I am not sure this was very devout. I frequently shuddered in hearing ladies search for their basins. I don't think I slept the whole night long—I was too occupied in not being sick.
 
 
 
Saturday, 29th May 1880. It was not quite half past five this morning when Mamie and I got up and went on deck. The wind was still blowing, but it is no longer so cold. We arrived at Southampton at 6 A.M. and were through the custom house at 6.30. On arriving at a small hotel opposite the pier, we asked for coffee, as we had not breakfasted, and were told we could not have anything before a quarter of an hour. They thought better of it, however, and took us upstairs to a small private sitting-room, where they served us ham and eggs & coffee. We then went out on the pier and took the boat for the Isle of Wight.

Mes Petits Ménages Français!
[My Little French Housewives!]

 There were two French ladies and two French gentlemen on board. It was such a relief to see some French people once more, after those stiff Englishmen who make you feel icy cold. They seemed to be two young honey moons, and looked somewhat as though they might be actors & actresses! They seemed to take an interest in me and I attributed it to my speaking French with Adeline. And I also flatter myself that they did not take me for one of those freezing islanders. One of the gentlemen reminded me very much of Victor S… It was the same independent look and short round figure. Of course I preferred this one to the other. My quartett disembarked at Carves—I felt rather like crying to them to go on to Ventnor with us. But instead, I settled down on the bench once more next to an uninteresting, great footed row of our English cousins.

We reached Ryde at 10 A.M. and took the train for Ventnor where we arrived at 11.30 A.M. The conductor gave us our tickets on credit as we had nothing but French money. I think it was very obliging of him.

Ventnor.

At Ventnor we took rooms at the Marine Hotel, overlooking the beach. The hotel has the American flag and eagle and is very good. After eating luncheon, Mamie, Adeline and I went down on the beach and sat on the sand. The sea is rough and a great many sailing boats are out. How funny it seems to hear English spoken around me!—even the children, as Mark Twain says.

A gentleman has passed before me whom I thought I had seen before. It turned out to be one of my French quartett of this morning and upon looking up, I perceived the others seated on a bench. The stage coach soon drove them away and the lonely feeling came over me again.

Sunday, 30th May 1880. I suppose everyone knows what a stupid day Sunday is in England. It seems to be particularly stupid on the Isle of Wight. Not a soul anyplace—even the beach is deserted. We (Henry, Edgar and I) made castles of sand and stones on the beach and knocked them down afterwards, pretending it was war. We had no music for dinner, being Sunday, of course. In the evening Mama and I took a little walk.

Monday, 31st May 1880. Rain, rain, rain!!!

An Immense Ennui!

Today has been even stupider than yesterday. Mamie and I know every book and paper by heart in the reading-room. We should be glad to play a little on the rusty old piano that is there but there are always so many old ladies in the room that we are afraid of disturbing. Had a small conversation tonight with one of these dames, but it was about roses, Virginia creeper and the season for pinks and I nearly went to sleep. Have a very sore throat.

Tuesday, 1st June 1880. Mamie, Adeline and I started off for Banchurch, an interesting old edifice of the 7th century but we never reached there. Instead we stopped to say our prayers in a Catholic church and took a lovely walk through some very pretty shady streets. Mama, Henry & Edgar had been to Banchurch, we found out on our arrival at the hotel.  

After luncheon Mamie and I did a little shopping—mucilage, elastic, paper, etc.—and we were amused at the shop-keepers wrapping up the pennies they returned us in paper. It was warm enough this morning to bathe in the sea. Hope it will continue so. Henry & Edgar bathed this afternoon, but found the water so cold that they did not stay in long. I watched them from my window. I had forgotten I had Victor’s and Puttkamer’s photos. in my satchel! I must put them out on my bureau—how neglectful I am. [Flowers are pasted to the page with the caption: “From the little Catholic church where we said our prayers.”]