Martha's Vineyard, Hyde Park, London, England.

"The captain was quite right; the morning was as fresh as his flattery,
and before we got far beyond the Head most of the passengers were spread
out below like the three legs of Man. Being an old sea-doggie myself, I
didn't give it the chance to make me sick, but went downstairs and lay
quiet in my berth and deliberated great things. I didn't go up again
until we got into the Mersey, and then the passengers were on deck,
looking like sour buttermilk spilt out of the churn.

"What a glorious sight! The ships, the docks, the towers, the town! I
couldn't breathe for excitement until we got up to the landing-stage. Mr.
Storm put me into a cab, and for the sake of experience I insisted on
paying my own way. Of course he tried to trick me, but a woman's a woman
for a' that. As we drove up to Lime Street station there befell--a
porter. He carried my big trunk on his head (like a mushroom), and when I
bought my ticket he took me to the train while Mr. Storm went for a
newspaper. Being such a stranger, he was very kind, so I flung the
responsibility on Providence and gave him sixpence.

"There were two old ladies in the carriage beside ourselves, and the
train we travelled by was an express. It was perfectly delightful, and
for all the world like plunging into a stiff sou'wester off the rocks at
Contrary. But the first part of the journey was terrible. That tunnel
nearly made me shriek. It was a misty day too at Liverpool, and all the
way to Edge Hill they let off signals with a noise like battering-rams.
My nerves were on the rack; so taking advantage of the darkness of the
carriage, I began to sing. That calmed me, but it nearly drove the old
ladies out of their wits. _They_ screamed if I didn't; and just as I was
summoning the Almighty to attend to me a little in the middle of that