Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
We were delighted when a messenger brought aboard a Special delivery letter from Sister this morning. A believer in Palmistry would say “I told you so.” Now we can go on to Rollins College, Winter Park, Florida - where we are to teach in a “Y” Camp, without anxiety. If we start to-day, it will mean two nights and one day’s travel to reach Jacksonville our first stop. If we take an early train to-morrow morning we can go through in one night and two days. We choose the latter and to-night we are at the Herald Square hotel, near to the depot.
Monday, June 7, 2010
To-day all is expectancy. We are told that we will reach port to-night. People are packing and hurrying hither and thither to look after the inevitable “last things” getting ready to land.
People were restless and disappointed when the day wore on and we did not reach New York until after sun down and our landing was delayed until morning. The Philadelphia passed Fire Island about one hour ahead of the La Touraine.
We anxiously watched to see the Goddess of Liberty and the lights of Coney Island were welcome.
We are grateful for the privilege and enjoyment of the trip, but our return is best voiced by Van Dyke -
“’Tis fine to see the old world and travel up and down,
Among the famous palaces and cities of renown,
To admire the crumbly castles and the statues of the Kings,
But now I think I’ve had enough of antiquated things.
So it’s home again, and home again, America for me!
My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be.
In the land of youth and freedom, beyond the ocean bars,
Where the air is full of sunlight, and the flag is full of stars.”
Sunday, June 6, 2010
To-day our adventure is given another phase. The day is bright and the surface of the sea seems calm, but there is evidently some under current or deep swell, which set our boat violently rocking early this morning. The sky line keeps frantically moving up and down to keep pace with the boat. We had side-boards on our table at breakfast to keep the food from resting in our laps.
I have settled down in my steamer chair, wrapped in my steamer rug, to write letters ready to mail when we reach New York, which we hope will not be later than to-morrow night or Tuesday morning. I scarcely dare raise my eyes from my paper - but by writing, writing with the swing of things and keeping my mind on other things, I do not seem to mind it so much. Had my lunch on deck.
A waggish friend who seems proof against all discomforts, punctuates my letter frequently with the song -
“My breakfast lies over the ocean
My dinner lies under the sea;
My supper is all in commotion
Oh, bring back the dry land to me!”
At ten o’clock this morning we sighted the French liner La Touraine sailing from Havre and it is an interesting topic as to which vessel will reach New York first. We are far out from land yet, but we are nearing the end of our long journey. We have enjoyed every minute of the trip. We will soon forget all the discomforts and only the joys will remain. The friendships formed will be treasured and we are loth to say good bye to friends who have shared the pleasures and inconveniences of two months of travel.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
We have another fine day, but the wind is very strong. We have been out one week to-day. I wonder if the men, who one time watched a tree-top drift down the river and caught a fore-gleam of an ocean steamer, if in his wildest flights of imagination, ever even dreamed what a great ocean palace of to-day would be like!
I was through a part of the steerage quarters the other day, on my way to the hospital to assist in preparations for Mrs. McKay’s funeral and I was not pleased with living conditions. Surely things could be put in a more sanitary condition and the passengers themselves could help keep it so. I talked with a Belgian and his wife who live in New York and are returning from a visit home. They had made the trip repeatedly and he had come over as a steerage passenger once and he gave me some interesting points. My sympathies are with the foreign born neighbors who are leaving war-torn, blood-swept Europe and coming to our shore. May America indeed prove to be the “Promised Land” of their hopes and dreams.
Friday, June 4, 2010
To-day is like living. A calm, beautiful sea. Everybody is on deck smiling and happy and we are able to move about, promenade, etc. and be comfortable.
A Palmist from London going to America, offered to give some readings this forenoon to help swell the fund for the orphans. In a spirit of fun, I allowed her to read my palm (the first time in my life). She sketched the past, commented on the present and gave some startling things for the future, all of which I accepted as fun. I told her the one thing on my heart was to know how the home folks were - that I had missed connection with my mail in Paris. She assured me that everybody was all right and that I should have no undue concern about them. This part I mean to believe.
I dressed for dinner to-night, and felt fine afterwards. Enjoyed sitting on deck and watching the stars.
Truly - “The night has a thousand eyes
And the day but one;
Yet the light of a whole world dies
With the dying sun.
The mind has a thousand eyes
And the heart but one,
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.”
Thursday, June 3, 2010
I have been down to breakfast and am back in my steamer chair on deck. I have a most attentive table waiter who tells me “I eat for a bird” but I am not sick and that is the main thing to consider just now.
It is still rough and cold. I think I could be classed as belonging to almost any one of the 20 nationalities on board, judging from appearances. Foreign wind and sun have certainly left their mark. There is a little Jewess on board who has come all the way from Palestine alone, and is going to New York to meet her fiance, and be married. She comes around to our party every day to visit, and we all feel sorry for her. She is a little “bundle of nerves,” so lonely and has been sick. It was a big undertaking for her to come so far, we hope the man in the case is deserving of such devotion.
We had a very interesting echo meeting of the World’s Convention. Our Japanese friends attended and were in good spirits.
The concert given for the benefit of Sea-man’s orphans was not very well attended. So many were sick.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
It is still rough and the sea is “choppy,” with a cold wind. But we will soon be out of the trade winds and then we will expect smooth sailing. We have gone out of our course to avoid the strong current of the Gulf Stream flowing in an opposite direction from what we want to go.
I have watched the men taking the temperature of the water as they direct our course. They let down a little leather bucket, bring it up and drop in a thermometer. Mr. Drummond looks me up every day and he is a good traveling companion. Met two Y.M.C.A. men to-day, one of them conducts our Song-fests each evening. There are many delightful people on board.
I have learned that if I am to escape sea-sickness I must avoid the close rooms inside and live on deck in the open air as much as possible, but I am sorry to miss so much of the good music, but of “two evils I am choosing the least.”
We have two youthful violinists (I am not sure of their nationality) aboard, that it is a treat to hear them play.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
To-day we have a high wind and heavy sea and our progress seems very slow. Many of our party are sick. I am standing it fine! Take my meals on deck (I dare not try to go below). I seem very tired, I think it is the reaction after our strenuous weeks of travel. I am resting and relaxing in preparation for some hard work awaiting me in Florida.
There are pleasant people on board and I have made some agreeable acquaintances. We have a good library on board and I am reading a good deal while it is so rough.
The Philadelphia is not nearly so good a boat as the Lapland that carried us over - not so steady, and accommodations are not so good. But our faces are turned toward home and we do not mind.
This morning the wind has fallen and the sea is calm, but our boat is not so smooth as the Lapland that carried us over. It is very cold and we have again put on our winter woolens etc.
Was surprised to see in the list of passengers, the name of Mr. James Drummond following mine. He looked me up to-day. He is a Scotchman from Glasgow, going to America. He is very bright and entertaining, was a soldier in the late war and twice wounded. Do not think we are immediately related, but probably both families earlier, descended from the same line, as his people originally came from Perth.
We had a death on board ship last night. A Mrs. McKay from Idaho, an old lady who had been to France to visit the grave of her son, suffered a stroke of apoplexy. At 8-30 P.M. we buried [her] at sea. The Rev. Mr. Pierce spoke from the text “And the sea shall give up its dead.” I assisted in the special music. The red streams of light from the setting sun, extended far out over the water and we will never forget that service. To me the water is a more preferable grave than the earth. One of the nurses said - “I have given my life to the sea, and here is where I want to be buried. It is the most beautifully jeweled grave in the world.”