JOURNAL OF A VOYAGE TO AMERICA IN 1870.

Fr. Pius Devine C.P.

(Copied from the original, located at shelf 49/1/1/1 [serial number 2337] in Central Archives, St. Paul’s Retreat, Mount Argus, Dublin 6.)

The Voyage to America

Having received orders from Father General, on Saturday August 19^th 1870 (whilst giving a retreat to La Saint e Union Convent in London) to go to America as Visitor General and act according to a code of private instructions, I put my affairs in order and started from St. Paul’s College, Harold’s Cross, at 12 o’clock on

August 23^rd

The scene at the door was saddening. I was perfectly sad myself and the students, though seemingly thoughtful, did their best to compensate. The priests looked very blue and Father Isidore paced the corridor with a sighing prophecy that he should never see me again.. Father Pancras accompanied me to Kingsbridge. We met Brother John there with a jar of the best Kinihan (?), which was lately sent me as at present. . I recommend all going to cross the ocean to provide themselves with a similar viaticum. At the Terminus, I met Mr. Molloy. and with his usual goodness he parcelled me to Cork first class. Scarcely any incident worthy of record occurred during this journey; except that a horsy priest poked his head into our corridor and asked a horsy squire if he were going to stake anything at the next races.. The squire said no as he was about becoming religious. This I thought cut both ways and his horsy reverence was (?). Mr. Richard Walsh met me at the station in Cork and took me to his father’s where I stayed for the night..

Aug 24

This morning I went to the next church and said mass for a blessing on my long journey, Canon Bourne gave me leave without any difficulty..

Dick Walsh and myself went after breakfast to buy some little things that I wanted and then to book a berth among the agents in Cork. . I intended to go by the Inman line but found, at their agency, that they were forbidden to book any cabin passengers until the 9th of September. . Quid agendum (?). I said I would go steerage for go I must. . We went to another office and heard the same story. So many were going to America that one required to book at fortnight before. This man said he could give me a passage by the ‘Cunard’ line and that the ‘Siberia’ would call in Queenstown today. . I took my passage, got my ticket and left Cork for Queenstown at half past 11. When I got there a new difficulty arose. The agent for the Cunard said there was no room and that there was not even steerage room. Still they would see what they could do. I said I did not care what accommodation I had. I would sleep on deck, anywhere, but go I must. . They then filed up my papers conditionally and we waited until about 4 o’clock when ‘The Siberia’ was announced. . As the little tender took us off to the large vessel, there was such as scene. The poor emigrants, fine young men and women with some old people and children taking and last adieu of their friends and native land. . One sad wail went up and loud lamentations followed our ear as we left the quay. . When we came to the steamer there was a great work, officials running this way and that, collaring the emigrants and making an awful fuss. I looked on board to see what sort of people I was likely to have for companions and the first that caught my eye was a big fat priest with a mouth like a half opened oyster puffing away at a cigar, which could easily pass for a cuisleach of an Irish spinning- wheel. He was seated amidst a crowd of emigrants like a full moon among a lot of inferior stars. Aft I saw some black robed gentlemen of Clerical mien (?) downwards on us. They did not wear the stock but I guessed that they were priests and I was right.. The fat genius wore his Roman collar. I wonder if he did not wear a stole also in order that his puff might be the more orthodox.

I, at length got on board and various doubts and shakes of heads welcomed me from the officers. “We’re quite a full, sir”. “Does anyone sleep on deck here?” said I..”Very well then I won’t take up much room and you must take me”. “All right, sir. Put your bag there and when all’s arranged I shall look up a berth for you”. Fortunately I got a capital berth amidships.. No 95 (?). I am better off than if I had engaged my passage in Liverpool or London. We steamed out of Queenstown Harbour at 6 o’clock p.m., and in a short time found ourselves on the Atlantic. We passed along the south shore of Ireland and soon lost sight of the Green Isle, with nothing but the wide expense of water and the sky overhead. We were very crowded, about 200 cabin passengers and steerage, without a stint.

Now a sea-voyage confines one to very small incidents. The total absence of new scenes or new faces after the first few days and listless monotony of events causes people to set great value on the smallest incidents and pay attention to the merest trifles as a way of passing off the time. I got some dinner privately and then strolled about and put my cabin in order. I found my mate in the cabin was at Frenchmen, who spent a long time in the missions (?) and one whom I rather liked. I perceived the majority of our fellow passengers were Americans and Germans, four or five Englishmen and one Irishman, or perhaps two more disguised by a Yankee twang (?) over a Cork brogue.

I walked down the saloon after supper to see my clerical friends on board, viz, three German Jesuits and one French Abb¾, and my cabin mate. The scene was peculiar and such only as a steamboat could afford. I saw old fogies with projecting noses and grey mustachios discussing politics over their grog, four or five whist parties talking over jacks and (?), some sentimental ladies reading Tennyson, and a few sharp looking intelligent men at chess. One of the chess players got seasick. I took his place and played so well that I had four or five challenges for a game next day. This passed the time till 10, when I retired to rest.

Aug 25

I was up this morning at six and the first thing I did was to certify to myself that my toes were not stuck through my spectacles into my eyes The ship rolls about and we are regaled with the screams or vomiting ladies, puling babies and men discomforted.

An event occurred now. A whole shoal of porpoises is just taking recreation after demolishing some thousands of herrings or inferior fish. They run along the ship, jump out of the water, dive in again and gambol on most friskily. After dinner I played three games of chess and won. And I am challenged again for tomorrow by a youngster, who looks very intelligent and not at all uppish, as you would expect a Yankee gentleman to be. . His father looks forward to the son’s doing well, and, by the by, a more affectionate father and son I never did see. They seem more companions than aught else,

Aug 26

Up today at six a.m. and went on deck to say my office. There I (three words indisciperiible). I saw an old valetudinarian on deck evidently counting how much draught of fresh air plus 40 goes with formation of the appetite for breakfast. Capital breakfast they give, but this is Friday. They have a very good fish for us and eggs, so we get along. . Today great many are sick. I am as lively as a (?). . I have a most voracious appetite. I played chess again and beat the youngster. I got a reputation for chess playing and people gather around to see me play. A very nice American lady, speaking philosophy through her nose and knocking down another gentleman in argument, clearly a handsome blue stocking, makes way for me and says she always admires chess players. A (?), making love to her, says he wishes he was one. She laughs a laugh and snubs him with a piece of metaphysics, whereat the poor fellow goes off with his tail between his legs. . When in getting out, I bow to the bluestocking and she acknowledges it with a smile. . I then talk about the deck to all sorts of people in all their languages and make several acquaintances. . Just now a steamer appears and we dip ensigns.. She is one of the Guidon lines bound home. We have a. jumping of porpoises today. At dinner we had turbot and salmon, but joints of meat were also placed before us in the most tempting manner possible. Myself and clerical friends resisted the temptation. A lot of German emigrants sing “Der Vaterland” (?) (Dear Fatherland). . It is very beautiful and a German girl sings gloriously. . I hear now a jolly scotch fiddler scraping away. The young ladies and young gentleman bring him up on our deck and have a dance. I had hard game of chess and won.

Aug 27

Up at 20 past six: prayers. Shaving is always a hard job. Isn’t it a shame that we can’t wear the beards that God gave us but must cut them off to make ourselves like women.? Wait till I am Pope. This day was rather stormy and so the work of shaving was no joke. You might get a bump from the vessel and cut your throat then…. that comes of having to shave! I could not stay very long on deck. The American ladies blocked it up.

Now of all the lazy animals I ever saw – and I saw plenty of them – from the sloth in the Zoological gardens up to the very fine Gentile lady – I never saw anything to equal the American ladies. At 8 o’clock in the morning they come on deck (such as are not too lazy to lie long in bed) and they then are half carried on deck by husbands, brothers, lovers or admirers. They then have a peculiar kind of a bathing chair into which they loll and they are then wrapped up in rugs and swaddling clothes and there they recline from morning to night. Their meals are brought to them. If it rains, husbands, lovers etc., must come and stick big umbrellas over them. They don’t read, they don’t talk, they don’t move, they don’t laugh – they don’t, saving your presence, go to the closet the whole mortal day but sit like a parcel of mummies or so many big sausages – (rest of sentence indecipherable)… I saw a squeaky, pretty- faced creature, as thin as a half-starved herring, demolish a piece of cold beef for breakfast that would have fed me for three days. Then to hear them talk. This exertion is rather much for them. Now you might expect an ordinary Christian woman to use her tongue and open her mouth. The American ladies are too lazy to open their mouths and so they squeeze half their expressions through their noses. They make a delightful sound in talking in consequence, a cross between the yelp of a broken winded spaniel and the bray of a consumptive donkey. Give me an Irish lady who would prance about the deck talk, flirt, laugh, joke, walk, be alive, – anything but the lazy, stinking sluggishness of these she-varmints. I am afraid I was impolite to some of them, through my disgust.

The American gentlemen (such specimens as we had on board) were certainly the nicest men I ever met. They had not a bit of the rowdy. They were affable, engaging, active (in their attendance on the ladies) and very well informed. I certainly am much taken with them. The only fault I found with them was, not spitting on their countrywomen or giving them a dip in the sea to smarten them.

Chess again. I beat everybody thus far and they begun to think I must be Murphy in disguise. There was one black whiskered fellow who gave me awful hard work of it, and I expect he will beat me in a day or two. No one will challenge me now. After supper I came to the saloon and the steward, without being asked, placed the chess before me. Don Whiskerodo (?) beat me at last.

Aug 28

Sunday and the quietest I ever spent. There generally is service by the Captain, but today there was none, and none for the emigrants. Probably the captain did not like to offend any party and there were so many of different nations and religions on board. We did not play chess today and there was no whist. And perfect languor overspread us all. That Puritans for Sabbath’s sake took after the American ladies and lolled a-smoking – the Catholics avoided scandalising the Pharisees. I was much amused at watching the (?) two Germans, a husband and wife: he was like Jack Falstaff and she like Nora Daly of whom it was written –

Neither man or baste

Could span the waist

Of charming Nora Daly.

They must weigh about 40 stone avoirdupois. I heard that a berth or two broke down last night. By the way the steward on our side of the saloon is a Lancashire man and never pronounces an h. I asked him what sort of a dish that was pointing to the table. “That’s air (hare), sir”. “Give me some ‘air” , says I, whereat several laughed. In the morning he asks you will you have “am and heggs?”. Two French men came to my cabin and we had a good chat. I gave them a little whiskey, which put them in and mighty good humour.

Aug 29

Up earlier than usual this morning. It is rather foggy and we are still on the banks. We had a good breeze in our favour last night but did not last very long. I played today with whiskers and we came off equal. I played chess with an English (Councillor Spinks I realise) and a great many gathered round. It went very close and the crowd thickened. Ladies and gentlemen came. We were all excited. A stiff game was played for nearly two hours and it ended with the two kings left on the board. Kilkenny cats and a cheer was what rewarded our great drawn game. The finest I ever drew and all said the same. I finished reading Charley O’Malley and dreamt of Mickey Free .

.

Aug 30

Up late this morning – not till 7.It is very stormy and cold on deck. We are just getting off the Banks of Newfoundland and over the fogs. It was most amazing to see serious grey-bearded gentlemen playing (part of sentence indecipherable) rope like quoits. By the way we have a fine set of gentlemen on board. We have Lord Conyers, 4 a them English who are going to America about a great inheritance case somewhere (?) about £100,000. We have six graduates of Harvard, some professors, five priests, three or four doctors and some merchants. They are all at home with each other and very pleasant. I cannot say much for the ladies, who, Deo Gratias, are in a small minority. After dinner the priests came to my cabin. We were singing German and Irish songs and the French priest went to sleep. Just then we struck up the Marshellaise and he immediately awoke and looked alive. He was giving some legerdemain, and in getting a string cut (?) chopped off a piece of his finger. Boys played at cockfight – I came off one game ahead in chess. .

Aug 31

Foggy and ugly weather today.. I did not get up till seven this morning, I could not stay on deck, so I went to the saloon and there found the French Abb¾ saying his office. I said, “Eh bien M. L.Abb¾, vous etes occupe a votre office”.. “Yes, sir”, said my Lancashire flunkey, “there’s some fish”. Fog and whistling. Chess again with German Jesuit. I beat him. The Captain, in joke, said we always have squalls when a clergyman is on board and that it has been so since the time of Jonas.

I told the story of Doctor Jonas of Bristol, who went to see the skeleton of a whale and after walking through it wrote:

“The prophet Jonas and I

Both entered the belly of a whale:

But he went in at the head

And I went in at the tail”.

It was the same Dr. Jonas, who, when asked for a seat in his carriage by Mr. Sidebottom, made reply:

“My dear Dr. Side,

Your name I divide,

And the part I’ve omitted

Will neatly be fitted

If you’re at my door

At a quarter to four”.

We had a great fun about a rat that tried to dine upon a lady’s toe and ate her slipper into the nail. Going down off deck my German friend stood on the tail of my coat and the bluestocking happened to see it offered to mend the rent. She did so very neatly and apologised for her handiwork by saying, in a Yankee drawl, that she was not brought up to woman’s work. An old lady gets her husband to take her down to see me play at chess every evening. Tonight I beat all. I am a week at sea and I never was sick for a single moment. .I have a glorious appetite and first-rate health. My days pass very pleasantly with, office, chess, meals, reading a little, chatting a little and writing a little.

September 1

This morning is very beautiful, scarce a ripple on the ocean. We saw a whale spouting water today and passed two ships. We were near running into a ship last night it seems. This evening we saw the most glorious sunset I ever witnessed; it was a calm beautiful evening and a stream of brilliant light seemed to reach from the sun to the ship. When the monarch of the day went to rest he shone behind some few slight clouds and the golden and various tints was something, which astonishes and enraptures. The clouds seemed like golden mountains and no pencil could ever delineate such a sight. All came on deck to admire. It brought to mind so forcibly Moore’s beautiful song:-

“How dear to me the hour when daylight fades,

And sunbeam’s melt along the silent sea,

For then sweet dreams of other days arise,

And memory breathes her vesper sighs to thee.

And as I watch the line of light that plays

Along the (?) towards the burning west,

I long to tread that golden path of rays

And think ‘twould lead to some bright isle of rest”

Sept 2

This morning was as beautiful as last night. After breakfast we passed a beautiful sailing vessel bound for Nova Scotia. She was the Emilia of Lisbon. Shortly after we met the Scotia, the only paddle steamer of the Cunard line. She was bound homewards. I spent the greater part of today writing circulars for the superiors in America. The French Abb¾ gave a séance in the saloon, in which he exhibited various tricks of cards. Certainly, it was wonderful, and he was cheered by all during and after his performance. An American lady sat near me whilst I was interpreting, as the Abb¾ didn’t know English, and her comment was, “How very kind of the gentleman to amuse us in this way”..

We were on deck a long time this evening and a Mademoiselle Cari, (which being interpreted means Miss Carey), an operatic singer of some repute performed some airs for us. She sang The Last Rose Of Summer very well, but the other thing I considered rubbish. The little American matron (she looks only 16 and her husband about 21 and they have boys 7 & 5 years of age for children – she was the only decent looking American lady I ever saw ) was among the crowd at the singing and she came over and said to me, “Will you ask Mlle. Cary to sing some more Irish things as the Americans are not worth listening to?”. I didn’t. I had a long chat with a nice English gentleman of about 22 and we discussed (I nearly wrote disgust and indeed it would be better only it would be bad grammar) the American ladies and their laziness and their squeaking voices.. “How would you like”, said I, “to be married to one of them?” “Well”, he replies, “I think I should invest in some cotton wool” to stuff his ears with. The reclining family moved off the deck to their berths. It began to rain about half past 10 so we got off the deck. The Captain had arranged with some American “big boys” , as they call them – Governors and prince merchants – to show them over the ship. He tapped me on the shoulder and made me “a big boy” also. We went through every part of it, steerage, machinery and everything and, certainly, it was most interesting. The steerage passengers are better off than we are as far as sleeping accommodation is concerned. Today I made the acquaintance of the doctor, who is an Irishman and a Catholic. I must say that I never met a nicer set of officers or a more obliging crew than on this ship.

Sep3

Today we ware discussing the probable time of getting in sight of land and reaching port. Myself and fellow priests were anxious about being able to say mass on Sunday and we were afraid we would not get in in time. There was a fog today and we were near running down a brig. When the whistle went off there was an echo, and I think this was the first sign of the proximity of land. How dear is the idea of land after being so long at sea! Even a rock would be a God-send in breaking the monotony of sea and sky. I went to bed early in order to be up at 4 or 5 when we are expected to be getting near the outer harbour.

Sep 4

I was up at 5 this morning and saw something like a long cloud, which, I was told, was land. I next saw a little sailing craft, which was the pilot’s boat. The pilot came on board about quarter past five. Such of the passengers as were on deck were anxious for news of the war, since we had heard nothing since we left Queenstown. The pilot was a thoroughbred Yankee. He chewed tobacco and spat most vigorously. ‘Any news pilot?’ ‘Y e, e, s, here’s a paper.’ The paper was three days old. We read it most voraciously. Passengers –“Pilot, how are the French getting on?” “Getting on”, spit. “Getting back”, spit. “What about the last battle?. Your paper is an old one”. Spit. “That’s all I heerd on it – half speed. That tarnation boat gets in our way”, spit. “what about Marshall Burgoin’s army?”. “Buggered up, I guess”. Here he spat most ferociously. We all fell a shaving and packing now to prepare for landing and everyone save the priests went to breakfast. Boston has a splendid harbour and the quantity of beautiful sails getting out this morning, on account of the favourable wind, was charming to behold, but very inconvenient inasmuch as they kept us back by coming across our bow together. A steamboat – American steamboats are queer things: they are like large tortoises with the card castles on their backs – came alongside us and the customhouse officers came on board. They brought the latest papers and then we heard of the surrender of McMahon’s army and the capture of Napoleon III. The French nearly fainted and Germans certainly did not boast, but a German priest was inclined to pity the poor French. However, alluding to the Marcellaise, he said, “le jour de gloire est passé”. :

At half past eight I set foot upon American soil. We could not get our luggage or ‘baggage’ ,as they call it here, out of the custom-house before 1 o’clock. There are no cabs here, but big carriages with two horses and what they call ‘‘street-cars’. The five priests took a big carriage to the Immaculate Conception church. of the Jesuits.. The houses seemed sunburnt (?) and the people half starved. We soon arrived at a magnificent church and house. We went in to see the Rector and when we told who we were and the German Fathers presented their papers, we were accommodated with altars. After breakfast we were asked to smoke but declined. They all smoke here. The High Mass was at half past 10 and certainly the congregation looked most peculiarly well dressed and respectable. At half past 12 we dined and the Rector gave (two words indecipherable) in honour of my humble self with sundry invitations in case I, or any of my brethren, passed through Boston to be sure to call on him. I was given a boy to show me the way to the German Jesuits (whither two of my companions had gone) and then to the streetcars. On the way I perceived there were something of a Connaught brogue lurking behind and thin varnish of the Yankee drawling in the lab’s speech. However, I saw him looking very hard at me. “Aren’t you Rev. Fr. Pius?”, said he. “I am”, said I. “And didn’t you give a mission in Ballymote this fall two years?” “Yes”.. “Well then I am a Gavan (sic) boy and I walked 14 miles to go to confession to you and hear you preach at the same time”. Thought I, I am a wonderful genius for I find someone who knows me everywhere. On our way to the streetcars we came across a genteel American who chewed tobacco very gracefully, inasmuch as he wiped the saliva from the corner of his mouth with a white handkerchief, instead of letting it trickle down (in the ordinary way), and he spat very genteelly also. He directed us to a better route and finding I was new to Boston, he began to enlighten me. He showed me a park and said “he believed it the most wonderful in the world”. A statue of Washington on horseback “licked the world”. “Were you ever in Europe?”, said I dryly, “No”. “Then I can understand your enthusiastic admiration for those town monuments”. The cars came and I disappeared inside the bowels of the first. These cars are queer things. You can yoke horses at both ends. They never turned round but the horses do. They run on rails along the streets. I had now time to notice some Americanisms. The notice is done thus – “Railroad – look out for the engine”. In another place you are told to make haste and buy or the shop will be emptied. But what capped the whole lot was a large board painted in grand letters just besides the entrance to the quay, struck out of a refreshment room – it runs thus, “The last chance for refreshments”.. I thought that singularly Yankee in tone and spirit. I found the Master of the customhouse was a Mr. Ryan, a Catholic, and he was going to New York this evening. . I got my own things and those of the French Abb¾ through and the officer carried them off to the “Old Colony Depot”, (that’s what they call railway stations in this country). I went back to the German Jesuits, they gave us some refreshments – sausages, potatoes and onions, some sort of queer meat, sauerkraut, lager beer, and Rheinish wine. The poor fellows nearly cried when I bid them goodbye and called me their guardian angel and a whole lot of other things. When I got to the Depot, there was a gentleman there by Mr. Ryan’s orders to see me all right. I got my luggage checked, i.e., they tie a (?) label to it and give you one corresponding, and that deems you getting it at your destination. I entered the rail road cars at 6:30 p.m. Queer things – all one long room with a passage between chair-like seats in each of which two can sit. I met one of the English lawyers and he and I sat in the same seat. Scarcely were we seated than the pretty matron came up and shook hands with us as if we had been old acquaintances. She and her husband were going to New York also. .

The country looks raw and uncivilised even in its best parts. When we came to the Fall’s River (en route from Boston to New York) we went aboard the most magnificent steamer I ever saw in my life. It was composed of three tiers of gorgeous palaces with large saloons in each -a band played in one, refreshments in the other and loiterers in another – the state apartments were in keeping with the rest. In many places the country seems getting ‘fixed’ – what meaning this word ‘fix’ has with Americans!..

New York to Niagara via Pittsburgh and Dunkirk

Sep 5

I arrived in New York Bay at 5 this morning., and the friend of the pretty matron came, with herself and her husband, and a card showing that he was one Mr. Eastman, a solicitor and counsellor, to invite me to set up the Catholic Church in Long Island, where they lived. They said there was no Catholic Church within ten miles of them and that there were several Irish. They also (though Protestants) offered to subscribe and “fix” me as pastor. The lawyer said that he knew that in my profession as his own there were good and bad: that they had kept their eye upon me during the voyage, that all looked upon me as a man of learning etc., – in a word that “I was the ticket” for them. I gracefully declined the honour, but said I would see to it. They gave me their cards and invited me to come and visit them and make their place my home. They took my breath away and I saw them evidently disappointed when I said I was only remaining in the States a few months.. Before landing I got into another American custom, I ‘expressed’ my baggage. That means this: a man comes with a lot of tickets, you give him your (?): he writes down whatever address you wish your luggage to be sent to: he hands you a ticket – you go off in the street-car to your destination and half an hour after the “express” comes up and hands your luggage in at the door for a trifling charge. This is decidedly an improvement upon our European fuddle and duddle way of doing it. When I landed, by the directions of Mr. Ryan, I went to look for the Hoboken Ferryboat. These ferry boats are wonderful things. In the centre go omnibuses, railways, horses and carriages, body and bones as they roll off the street. On each side go ‘gents’ and ‘ladies’. Gents may go to the ‘ladies’ part but they are saluted with a placard requesting them not to spit. I must admit it then but notwithstanding the placard, the spitting has, as my French friend would say, “esonantable”. Our (?) consisted of a parson, a priest, some navvies, and an Italian with a hurdy-gurdy, his wife with a black eye and a tambourine, a queer looking foreigner with a brown bear (?), and a pole which the parson said was very fond of tender lambs but always prepared to be his own butcher. On the south side I got into the streetcar for Hoboken Street and it took me through marshes, hills, all on an “unfixed” road – that is to say a road very like an Irish potato field, sprinkled with big stones. The American roads are certainly the worst in the whole world, as far as I saw it. I got out of the car and trudged up to the monastery of St. Michael’s Retreat, over a plank road, that is to say something like a path in a bog in Ireland. I arrived at the door about 9 o.clock. Father Victor, the Vicar, did not remember me for a few moments but at length he did and then I went and said a Votive Mass of the holy founder and took my breakfast. I then sat down to write a cloud of letters to Europe and some to American friends etc. After dinner, I went with Fr. Eusebius to see an old monastery and church, which had been just “fixed” for the Sisters of Mercy. Our new monastery is a beautiful building – better laid out than Dublin, but not so bright or fair to behold. I saw in my rambles a piece of American corruption and monopoly. One set of proprietors “fixed” a road for a new street – another did not like that and they then “fixed” a road of their own a little above the other for sheer spite. Our fathers cannot have a (?) done because the road-car company refuses the other and can prevent them in order to make people to go around upon their road – over the marsh. This is growing to a rapid extent in the States. Rich companies monopolize everything and corruption and greed for gain carry the day everywhere. Seeing that the senior fathers, with whom my business chiefly lies, are more easily assembled at Pittsburgh, I decided upon going there on the morrow.. .

Sep 6

After Mass this morning as I was making my thanksgiving in the celestory, an old woman came up to me with a “greenback” in her fist. “Och, your reverence, I am persecuted with a comrade of a husband I have. He is drunk every day and here is this, I stole out of his pocket, for you and I am asking you to say a mass for the good of his soul”. I certainly admired her faith and charity.. A French woman then came and wished to see M.L. Ministre (?) pour fait la confession. After dinner and about 12:00, I started in our carriage for New York, en route for Pittsburgh. Fr. Victor accompanied me. We went first to Sweeney’s hotel to look for Father Laurence. I heard he was there about 5 minutes ago; but after searching all over the place and when I was going off in despair, after leaving instructions, I thought I might take a look at the smoking room. There I found Laurence, in a Yankee straw hat surrounded with smoke (not smoking) and reading a comic journal on the war. Imagine his surprise when he saw us. We went off then to an Italian’s store and drank some Lacryma Christi wine together. After this we went to the Depot and I took my ticket for Pittsburgh. We saw Bishop Fitzgerald, one of the Antiinfallibilists at the bar of Sweeney’s. Well certainly he did not look very Episcopal. He is Bishop of Little Rock, and an American Bishop said of him: “Little Rock is opposed to the Big Rock”… We drove through Broadway. It is a splendid street. The houses are like palaces – but if it were a little wider it would be a great improvement..

I could not get get a sleeping car on the Railway and I had a journey of 20 hours before me. It was the most uncomfortable night I ever spent. I could not stretch myself. .I could not rest my head, the door was opened and shut every five minutes and fellows loping in and out. Give me our own trains for the night in preference for these ould Yankee things. To add to my discomfort I had my hands and face all bitten by mosquitoes the night before. I was sleepy and could not sleep – itchy and could not scratch. – tired and could not rest. – (?) .. with books and could not to read – and altogether my journey was most disagreeable. The country looks wild and raw, although it is considered civilised along here. The Allegheny Mountains hold no charm for me. You hear no birds singing anywhere only the everlasting chirping of crickets and grasshoppers by the million. They are in all the fields, hedges, houses, and never stop day or night. .

Sep 7

About half past ten I arrived in Pittsburgh. It is a very large city and smokier and dirtier than Glasgow. As soon as I found myself in our monastery, I met several faces that I knew and I felt quite at home in a moment. I went to bed soon after dinner: slept till 6. I then got up, took a bath and walked in the garden. This is a beautiful sight and the monastery and church are well built and commodious. It overlooks the city and one has almost to climb from there in order to get up to it. The area is not much contaminated by the smoke below, but it is very hot and close even at this season. .

Sep 8

Up today at six and felt rather refreshed. There are over 30 religious here, 17 of whom are novices – nice youthful looking boys and very fervent to the eye. There is a little chubby fellow called Br. Pius, who lights my lamp and pilots me through the house. He does not promise to be as tall as his namesake. Today after Vespers, I opened the visitation in the usual form. Began the conferences and got through several. I inverted the order and began with the seniors. In the evening arrived my old friend Fra Giacinto. He spoke the most extraordinary language I ever heard, which he meant for English. He talked about Boyaci Germanien (?). He could not say “rooster”, the American for cock, so he called the king of the poultry farm “chicken man”. We had watermelons after dinner. They are beautiful fruits, so cool, so large and so refreshing. I took a walk in the garden after supper and the air was most charming. I thought my friends the mosquitoes were putting their heads together for a combined assault upon my (?) and wounded face and hands tonight. They did not eat me. .

Sept 9

Today I was up at matins, discipline etc. It was most refreshing to find myself into observance again after a month’s absence. I was not so thirsty this morning. After Mass, I read a portion of Lothian (?) before I began any work. After vespers, I gave an examen. Afterwards, conferences, when in steps Fr. Athenasius. He entertained me sometime with an account of his travels and adventures. His (?) (begging) is a difficult one but (?) vincit omnia. He lost his habit somewhere and came to get a new one. He has been bitten by big and small mosquitoes. Today I heard a band playing a dead march and saw a procession of men in white. I was told it was the funeral of somebody belonging to a sort of guild or society. The Americans are very fond of displays, torchlight processions, bands and blatherskite. ..

Sep 10

This morning I went with Father Guido to see Father Luke’s new church. It is very spacious and beautifully situated on the track of a fort used in the last war. There is a fine view of the surrounding country and the church is built of red brick after an Italian model. When we had satisfied ourselves with our viewing, inside and out, upside and down, we called upon a Mr. Schlesinger, a German who has a vineyard close by. We saw his farm and his wife, busy in washing, scouring and scrubbing. The Germans (?) like always do their own household work. In a few minutes she left her washtub, came out, neatly trimmed, and placed before us in the porch or veranda grapes, bread and butter, and grape pie or pudding, and a bottle of beautiful wine. We took the refreshments with great relish after our long walk. I could not eat the grapes at all. They have a rank and luscious taste; but the wine was beautiful..

After this we came through an Irish village. They were nearly all from Donegal and the ancients spoke Irish. The man in whose house we called sold lemonade and various cooling drinks. He placed about a dozen bottles before us. In a short time the word was spread that an Irish priest had arrived. All the villagers forthwith came to see me and hear about the old country. How delighted they were and what an affection they have for everything Irish. The climate plays sad work with their appearance. They are all sallow, worn and Yankee-like. They were never done complimenting my fresh complexion and when I spoke of the (?) the mosquitoes an old woman said, “How well they can scent out pure blood, the varmints”. We then called upon another set of Irish and saw only the granny.. She was bedridden and a nice old woman certainly. She spoke about her lambkins and I perceived at once she was from Antrim or thereabouts. The next were a family of Yankified Irish who don’t like to pass for Irish and whose faces are evidently of (?) type with a thin varnish of Yankee (?). The American women are about the ugliest I ever saw. They are all coming to town to hear me preach. .

Sep 11

This morning occurred nothing in particular except that I found three or four mosquitoes had paid my wrists and calves a visit last night. Oh for the (?) and power of St. Patrick to be able to banish these horrid varmints from off the civilised earth!.

I preached today on ‘No one can serve two masters’. I gave a bar towards the end complimenting the poor Irish. Oh to see the expressions on their countenances during this part of the sermon. They are the finest people in the world if they got and took fair play. The Bishop lays the corner stone of a new church today – about 3 o’clock in the afternoon – .in a suburb of Pittsburgh called Manchester. All the Catholic Guilds go there in procession through the streets with banners flying and bands playing. I was asked to go but declined because I had some work to attend to. In the afternoon a sabbatical stillness reigns over the city. The smoke clears away and reveals the nature of the place – everything seems made for how much it will fetch. Business is the sole of American (?) and as everything is in a crude state of malformation here, progresses is a necessary state of existence. Fr. Athanasius went to see this ceremony in Manchester, of the laying of the foundation stone. He said the Bishop made a (?) speech very much like Br. Anthony’s effusions on recreation days. I spent the evening recreation with the novices and told them some queer stories.

Sep 12

This morning I went with F. Luke to see the Bishop. 9 o’clock was the time; 8 would have been better. We saw the entrance to the cathedral blocked up with children and their guides. The Bishop received me in a room, which seemed to serve as a private sitting room; I saw a cupboard opened in what was very like Goldsmith’s chest of drawers. It contained an ewer, basin, soap, looking glass and shaving apparatus. I suppose Yankee Bishops make their Episcopal toilette on their knees. He was an impulsive man and one who did not know Canon Law very well. He is not a friend of religious although one himself. I laid down the law for him very coolly and he said, in a great fidget, it did not apply to this country where the Church was not established. I said it worked well in England and Ireland, where the church and its pastors were similarly situated, but that Bishops in those countries seem to have more respect for Papal enactments than their brethren in America. He was going to get furious I think but I followed up my point with the utmost coolness and he gave it up. How small some bishops make themselves sometimes!

I went to visit the large Convent of Mercy immediately afterwards. And I saw some Yankee sisters and then some Irish ones. The latter looked healthy and were delighted to see an Irish Passionist. On our return homewards we called to look at the cathedral and found it crowded with varginettes (?): There must be at about 10,000 little girls, all dressed out as Children of Mary or Children of the Angels. Sisters of mercy with their (?) and bonnets on, marched up and down like she-peelers whilst the Bishop was preaching. One of good sister stared at me for five minutes. She had a thin, raw-boned face and if she had at touch of beard on her chin she would pass for a sergeant in nun’s costume. The cathedral is Gothic: has two tall towers and a dome – it is very bald in the way of decoration, but very spacious and well situated.

I returned by the streetcar and. passed by a slice of the town called Sligo. This Sligo is the dirtiest, dingiest, smokiest hole from here to Wolverhampton. The faces in the vehicle were a study. I think the Gothic painters of the Middle Ages who made human face so angular must have had visions of Americans. We travelled up the hill, visited our German Church again and arrived at the monastery at 1 o’clock. After supper I made my last speech and closed the visitation. In the evening F. Guido entertained us with some of his Californian experiences. Among other things he told a story in which was very well delineated the grafting of American ideals over Irish notions. He saw a woman weeping over the corpse of her husband and she exclaimed, between sobs, ”Ach, Billy dear, how did you get this divorce from your own Molly? It was in the courts of heaven, a chusla”. . .

Sep 13

I was up this morning at half past four, said mass at five and left the monastery at 6. I travelled in a vehicle, made like a cart with springs, covered over like a tent-bed, having three seats for accommodation of two passengers each and drawn by two horses. They call it a team. The terms they have for carriages are “ buggy”, “hack”, “team” etc. We got to the Depot at half past six and about 6.50. I took my seat in “the cars” for Dunkirk. On getting out of the smoke the country looked rather blooming. Some of the primeval forests still left patches of themselves in full growth and stumps in many places to testify to the advance of civilisation. We travelled along the borders of the state of Ohio and at a station called (?) we stopped a half an hour for dinner. I dined in five minutes and I think my she-waiters were Irish women. We passed now along the shore of Lake Erie, one of the great American Lakes. Lakes here are not like ours, mere fishponds. They are huge things like to seas, with ships, steamers and all the bustle and life of oceans, barring tides. I arrived at Dunkirk, a (?) town on Lake Erie shore at about 4:00 and soon found out our monastery. I knew four members of the community (including the Rector) before. I took a long walk with F. Rector (a Tipp) after dinner by the lake and as we mistook the time an hour or so, we hastened home too fast to find ourselves in too soon.

Sep 14

Feast of the Holy Cross-. This day 12 years ago I trudged up to Broadway to become a Passionist novice. I well remember the day and how desolate and tired I was after six miles of a walk and a day’s travelling with my carpetbag on one arm and my cloak on the other and not knowing a soul in this English retreat to which I bent my steps. Little I thought that day, that I should be celebrating its 12^th anniversary as I am. The most romantic and wild species of castle building would not have equalled the reality. After vespers, I began the visitation and most of the afternoon was spent in conferences. I arranged with F. Rector to go to Buffalo and then to Niagara on tomorrow.

Sep 15

Today was a day of adventurers. At 8:00 I left Dunkirk in company with F. Rector for Buffalo, the residence of the Bishop. We had several fine views of the lake as we rode along in the “cars” (train). Midway we saw the coast of Canada across the (?) clear waters of the lake. We arrived in Buffalo at about half past 10 and had only 40 minutes to see the Vicar General (the Bishop has not yet returned from the Council) and catch the train for Niagara. When we got to the bishops house I saw a very spalpeen looking fellow in a cassock at the door talking to the ladies. He was dressed like a slatternly Dublin sacristan off duty, a rusty black-tie and a soutanne being the only evidence of his clerical calling. F. Martin saluted him as Fr. Somebody O’Something. Thinks I, here’s a specimen of a priest and he was. The Vicar General was an improved edition of him inasmuch as he took us to his room and pitched himself rump foremost into a rocking chair, producing pipes and tobacco for our accommodation. When he kicked up his heels so as to endanger some cobwebs, which hung from the ceiling, he displayed at goodly calf and a sizable person. I had my chat with the Vicar General, and then informed that we had 2 minutes to catch the train, off we trudged and caught it. The great convenience of the thing here is that you may go into your seat and pay when the conductor comes round like in an omnibus As we passed along we got occasional glimpses of forest, lake and a large river, the Niagara, flowed alongside of us. It seemed a lake to me, and would, if chopped up, make several lakes like our largest in Ireland. At length we reached the village of Niagara and hired a carriage for the day at $5. We went, as it was after 12, to a “house”, (the hotels are called “houses” here) to take dinner. This house was kept by an Irishman, and we met in his parlour, his mother, the mother of a priest and two other younger mothers. They were all from Ireland and when they had asked me all the questions they had in mind, the old mothers talked about their rheumatics and the younger about their babies. After dinner we (?) off to see the falls..

How shall I describe my first look at this wonder of the world? It seemed to me that they were not near so grand as I had been lead to expect, but in a few minutes their magnificence made itself felt. We had at first to cross a suspension bridge, of a single span, 1269 feet long. From the bridge to the water is 160 feet, and the depth of the water below that again is 150 feet. The driver acted as Cicerone and took to himself the airs of a regular hero whilst enlightening us. When we crossed into Canada we had a full review of the American fall, which is an immense sheet of water rolling down with tremendous precipitation and noise. Above it is a rapid current over numberless hidden rocks and we saw one rock projecting. Some years ago a man was being carried down to the Falls and he stuck to the rock from 6 o’clock in the evening till 12 the next day. People gathered around then and sent him a raft to which a rope was attached. They then procured a lifeboat and, whilst stepping from the raft into the lifeboat, the poor fellow missed his footing and was carried over the cataract never to be seen alive again. Below this on the American side is a small cataract called the bridal veil, an article it very much resembles. Above and across the river is the Horse- shoe falls, a huge mass of water. You can see the foam as it dashes down shredded into various hues by the depth of the (?) and the (?) of the brink over which it tumblers. There is a rainbow playing in the air over the spot where the terrible (?) reaches the bottom, and this spray caused a sort of mist or gentle shower to fall around the place for some distance. Fancy small particles of water dashed up for about 250 feet and then fancy the force of this terrible torrent, which then flings these atoms so far into the air.

Near the cataract are several “Houses” and houses also. There is a grand place where Indian ornaments are sold and photographs taken. I saw a party of fireman out for a picnic in the uniform of English soldiers, but I found they were Americans. Our driver told us we could go down and go between the waterfall and the bank over which it sprang. We went into the “House” to get ourselves arrayed for this expedition. Here’s the way you are rigged out. A nigger or two come first and put a pair of oil-skin trousers of a yellowish hue over your own, then you put on a sort of sack overall of the same material and your head is enveloped in a hood with a cap to it like a sailor’s sou’western. When I saw F. Martin in this garb I could not refrain from laughing outright. Of course I could not see myself, but he did and returned the complement. There he stood, his spare figure encased in trousers large enough for an elephant, and not unlike Irish potato sacks painted with oil. His upper garment resembled the habit of a Carthusian, considerably grander or a sort of thing that might have done service in the day’s of Friar Tuck. His cowl covered the summit of him and gave his bespectacled visage the appearance of one of Shakespeare’s witches arrayed in the garments of Polyphemus. I was similarly clad and for laughing at each other we nearly tumbled over the precipice. When we both walked out in the street, thus arrayed with sturdy oak cudgels in our fists, we could perceive the brigade men making way for us and very likely wondering if two Robinson Crusoes had appeared, especially as the nigger who walked before us looked so like the classic Friday. Down steps we went and down and down until the roar became deafening and the spray like an autumn shower. When we had gotten to the level of the underwater, our guide shouted out (otherwise he could not be heard from the noise of many waters) “(two words indecipherable ) this rock twenty years ago. It projected for twenty feet over the precipice and the rest of it had to be blasted. ” Pleasant (?). “On that there yonder rock I used to play on a child. It was since washed over the abyss.”. He had pieces of the same garments as we wore hanging on (?) as we went along and put on articles now and again as we approached the falling sheet of water. The roar of the water, the abyss below us, the fantastic and savage appearance of our costumes, the wry faces and roar of the nigger, our grasping our staves and looking terrified around brought to my mind some of the horrors of the ogres and genii of the Arabian nights. When we got behind, the water made a splendid parabolic half arch from the precipitate bank over our heads: – the sensation was overpowering and so was the spray. Sort of whirlwind rumbles inside and the waters roar outside in the downward crash. No more an inch would be to be lost for ever and a sort of shingle without a guard and a path about 2 feet was all we had to rest on. I went in so far that Father Martin began to say Hail Marys for me, and the excitement of your sensations with sublime and terrible arrows above and below you was an event to be had only once in a lifetime. We soon retraced our steps and reached to the top, dripping with moisture. There they wanted to photograph us. F. Martin wished it but I feared it would look to fantastic or grotesque and refused. I’m very sorry now we did not get ourselves done so that we might perpetuate the remembrance of our adventure to after times.

Our Ciscerone told us that just six years ago on the brink of the falls a Mr. Abington was playing with a Mademoiselle de Forest, a young lady about twelve years of age, and made a feint of pitching her over the cataract. She in her playfulness jumped from his hands: he jumped after her, caught her in his arms and both were dashed to the bottom and lost in a few seconds. We lingered and gazed at this wonderful work of nature, and majestic must be that Creator, who at a word could create such tremendous evidence of his might. Slowly and wonder struck we retired from the spot, the marvels of the sight growing as we reached and crossed the bridge again into American territory. We drove on then to the whirlpool rapids. We entered a (?) and sat upon benches in a little box and were gently let down by machinery to the waters edge or nearly. We gazed then in raptures, the gurgling, dashing, splashing river beside us. The Falls look majestic and regular, as if nature had risen to its highest nobility and put on its most solemn aspect to receive you as a state visitor. The whirlpool seemed as water gone mad and foaming with rage for not being able to swallow you up and dash your brains out instead of drowning you. There was the gurgling and raging passion in its throat and the wild dashing of powerful arms as if in a hysterical fury and scrambling for enemies in impotent and maniac bewilderment. We soon left this and came to terra firma again.

We then drove off to see the diocesan college kept by the Vincentian Fathers. This is a goodly pile of buildings and contains accommodation for about 150 students with their staff of professors. The superior, F. Rice, is a long, lank, lathlike American: his father is American and his mother was Irish and I need not say that he took after his mama in appearance. He is a very nice obliging man. F O’Keefe, an Irish man, came in as we were talking to the president and although he is almost 20 years in this country he has as thick a brogue as if he never was forty yards from a cow’s tail. He showed us through the house. I cannot say I admired its interior arrangements – the refectory and recreation hall being underground caused them to look more like vaults for refractory lunatics than what they are destined to be. There is a skylight view at the top, which gives an idea of the country around for miles as the college is beautifully situated on the border of the river and within stones to throw of Canada.

We drove next to a convent of Josephine nuns, who gave us supper. We just caught the seven o’clock train for Buffalo, where we arrived about a quarter past eight. We (?) are steps to the Vicariate and found the V.G. was out. There was an old priest in his room sitting on one chair with his feet on the back of another. When he found out I was such a “big wig”, he took down his feet and divested himself of his biretta. We saw another priest downstairs, who gave us a glass of something good whilst he was engaged in smoking and telling us some of his experiences. We caught the train to Dunkirk by a sharp walk and did not to get to the monastery until 11 o’clock. I go to bed about 12 after one of the best recreations I ever remember.

Sep 16

Today I am quite busy with the visitation work and nothing extraordinary occurs in consequence except the discovery that I lost my notebook yesterday. It was not a much value and contained neither money nor secrets. If it contained both I should bid it goodbye.. .

Sep 17

Today I closed the visitation after vespers with the usual ceremonies and in the evening I went across with Father Rector to see the nuns who gave us some oysters and other things. I told them some nuns’ stories whereat they laughed mightily and wondered exceedingly. Nuns are the same every where if you hit them on the right point. Today arrived F. Gaudentius, and I saw “poor Gaudentius”, as he says himself, for the first time….

Baltimore, Washington and Virginia

Sep 18

Today I spent a good part of the morning debating about different trains and routes to Baltimore. At length I decided on going by the 1.30 and passing through New York. Fr. Gaudentius came with me. When we got to L(?)alamanca the sleeping carwas added and we took two berths in it. This is a wonderful convenience. They settle you in a fine bed, draw curtains and afford every convenience for a good night’s rest. During the day the beds are so squared up that you can sit in them as ordinary seats. There were some Jews in the next berths to us and I saw the Jewess staring at me. When I met them this morning they addressed me as “ father” and one said, “perhaps Father would like to sit over here”. . I found they had been educated in Catholic Convents. It seems the Americans prefer sending their daughters to convents for their education because as one of them said to me, there they are better taught and better protected than they would be in boarding schools. Our train was one hour late and so we lost hopes of catching the 8.30 train to the South

 

Sep 19

We arrived in New Jersey at 8.15. I had to take the road car from the Depot for Philadelphia. I got into this train now and we steamed away south. The country looks more civilized still. I arrived in Philadelphia at 1:00 and found I could not get a train for Baltimore until 4. How to dispose of myself in the meantime! I first took dinner and that was half an hour. I then went and took a short stroll through this city. I found a very busy long street with plenty of Irish names, Murphy’s, O’Reilly’s etc. so as to make one almost believe he was in Ireland again. I was rather tired and hot and thought of turning into one of the Irish stores to rest myself. I found them to be chiefly coal, whiskey and rag shops. At length a respectable looking place (?) between a tailor and military establishment came in sight and over it showed in gilt letters the name of Kelly. I turned in and saw a raw-boned, aged spinster (she must be as she looked so sour and disappointed) in the shop chewing at a biscuit with her gums. I bowed, said I was rather tired and asked if I might rest myself. She vacated her stool, grumbled some, walked off for a newspaper and gave it to me. She would not talk and answered all my attempts at conversation in a laconic way. I pretended to scan over a few murders or so and walked out after five minutes. She was not an Irish woman I am certain. When I got as far as the station, I met the Irish porter, who took care of my baggage, waiting for me. I took a book and went into the waiting room. There I saw a Yankee sitting on a chair with his left leg up on the windowsill, a half-foot higher than his head. He chewed tobacco vigorously and spoke over his toes most annoyingly. I got into the cars at 4 o’clock and found the ordinary apartment full. I then went to another where I found all soft chairs, which could be made to recline.. I got in there by paying a half dollar extra. This is a beautiful route to Baltimore. You pass by beautiful rivers, gorgeously (?) with (?) and nice houses. One, the Susquioshanna, is a mile and a furlong long, and another, Bush River, is nearly a mile. Everything is gigantic in this wonderful country. I arrived in Baltimore at 8:o.clock. There was no one to meet me from the monastery. I called at the Cathedral and a mulatto girl opened the door of the presbytery for me. There was no priest at home, so I took a hack, bargained with the driver and set off for the retreat, where I arrived about 9. The religious were just finishing the Rosary. There was only one here who knew me, poor F. Angelo, my old lector. Wasn’t he delighted to see me and I to see him?

Sep 20

This morning, after mass, I walked about the place to see what it looked like. The house is a fine structure, built on a slight incline, with 16 acres of land, and a portion of it beautifully wooded. There is a nice garden and the surrounding country is well cultivated. I then wrote some letters, got my haircut and my tonsure shaven. I opened the visitation after Vespers.

.Sep 21

Arose this morning bitten by mosquitoes. Went on with conferences. F. (?) and myself killed 4 mosquitoes and never did General rejoice over his enemies slain in battle with greater zest than did I over these varmints. I never felt how sweet a thing is revenge before. When I lit my lamp in the evening I found one mosquito who escaped us. He buzzed around me intent on feasting on me. I tried to take his life, and after the fifth attempt pasted him to the wall. I have at this present ten bites on me, five on my tonsure, three on my left cheek and two terrible ones on my hands. Oh! St. Patrick, why didn’t you visit this country! Sweet Ireland where venomous animals can’t live! I washed my head and hands and face in salt water. This I find the best remedy for poison. I am now writing after night prayers and fear to go to bed as there is a mosquito buzzing around me. I am watching out for an opportunity of slaying him.

Sep 22..

Arose this morning and beautifully bitten by mosquitoes. Heard conferences and at 11:00 got ready to go with Father (?) to take a walk. We went down to the road and waited for the streetcar. When we got in I saw a man opposite me who wore an American black straw hat, and hair like withered tobacco leaves, which came down in lumps all around his head. His face was of broad foundation and wrinkled at the corners of his hips. His eyes resembled those of a drowned cow and his teeth looked black and worn from cigars. His tie was of a blackish seedy like texture, and his coat like a second-hand sweeps Sunday coat. His trousers were not quite transparent and his vest could not be seen from an immense watch chain which ran a-thwart it. I found he was a Belgian Jesuit, bent on his (?) of extraordinary (?) – no mistake about that and yclept F.Miller (name contracted from – here Pius makes play with many foreign names which are indecipherable). There was a carriage awaiting him and we then got into it for the convent of the Visitandines. They have grates of timber painted green, huge parlours and guestrooms. The nondescript Jesuit is Ecclesiastical Superior and he gave us leave to go through the convent. The Mother Superior can do the dance. We went with her and a tall, withered nun to see the whole house. It is much like European convents as far as the fittings-up for young lady borders is concerned with the exception that I saw a great number of rocking chairs. Each nun has one to herself and in the infirmary there were half a dozen. I asked the withered nun if the sisters used them much and if they had windowsills and chimneypieces convenient to put their feet on. She seemed shocked but saw what I was driving at, so she apologised for the existence of the rocking chairs. The nuns don’t smoke tobacco I believe; but I strongly suspect a couple of grannies of smoking. They have verandas attached to each story. They have five books of Euclid down on a large map-like sheet of paper, a complete set of chemicals and the young ladies, as per prospectus, take premiums in geology, chemistry, logic, mythology (very refining), meteorology, astronomy, ornamented gardening, smoking caps and fire services – the latter is called embroidery and drawing. We then went to visit a church of which we have the charge, St. Agnes. There I saw the skimpiest morsel of a (?) ever I came across. Her spectacles were the most gigantic part of her attire. We drove then in the private carriage of Mr. Gearly (a convert) to his chateau. By the way, there are beautiful chateaux all-around here and the country is well cared for, if we except avenues and private roads. We met the family, and very nice people. A varginette daughter came in and sat in a rocking chair in which she strove to present an exposition of her little calves. The dinner was a distinguished an affair, I suppose. There were two chief dishes after the soup, one of mutton and one of fowl. A variety of other things like sauces made of rats tails and stewed in tomatoes were handed about but I could not touch them. . The drink was a sort of gooseberry wine and iced water. After dinner, coffee then cigars and we refused them. The gentleman looked astonished and gazed at us as if he was after seeing a ghost. “Well, this is new. I never met three priests who did not smoke before”. And in the ground we had some recreation with the students – chess, drafts, croquet etc. At a (?) time we rode home and were in time for Compline.

 

Sep 23

 

Today I concluded the visitation before Sext and None. .After dinner F. Thomas and myself started for Baltimore. I decided on going to Washington tonight in order to be able to say mass in the morning before going south. We took my ticket and checked the luggage at an office in town and I then went to pay a few visits. First we went to the V.G. (the Archbishop has not returned from Rome) and found him a remarkably nice old man. He was not at all of the rowdy kind, but as stately and as polite and arguable as if he were a good European. We had a good chat together and then we went off to the Carmelite convent. My good nuns in Dublin charged me to see their sisters here before I returned. Nuns, of course, always lay themselves out for edifying a stranger and these, to be sure, began to edify me. We got into the great room and I saw the whole (?) from the floor to near the roof was one big grate of wood, between the bars one could thrust at good sized cat , and there was a wee door in the middle (locked) about the size of a barn-window. A thing walked up to this barrier and spoke, and it then drew the curtain and presented to our view the habit of a Carmelite nun with a long black veil down to the middle of it, I though first it was a statue of St. Teresa, not yet unveiled and I thought next that the nun had turned her back to me. .I found, however, that her face was towards us and that the veil was left down in front and reached below her waist. She talked and in the properist manner possible and then called in the sisters. They all wore their veils after the same fashion. .I gave various hints about “not seeing” them and about the way Christian Carmelites at home would come to see a person. No go – they would not put up their veils. They talked away, however; but I would not give them anything but shopping. F. Thomas saw how I was disposed and he came over near me, (I was near the prioress) to tell me quietly to ask her as a favour that the nuns might lift their veils. I said “Oh, dear me, don’t you know why they keep them down? Superiors are ugly and they don’t wish the young ones who are nicer to be seen – and then some of them have bad teeth, black moustaches and red noses: hence they don’t want to be seen “. I said this in an undertone but in such a way that the prioress could hear me. All at once she roared laughing, threw up her veil (?) between Christians – all the others did the same and in five minutes we were quite at home with each other.

I went off then and caught the cars for Washington.. Here, I found a new kind of accommodation. The cars are provided with huge chairs, which you could bend back and loll in as you chose. I got to Washington about half past six and admired the Capital, which is the Congress house (corresponding with our Parliament). It is a grand building of white marble with a splendid dome. I walked to the Jesuit church of St. Aloysius, as everybody knows it, and there I met a F. Maguire who gave me supper. He was very kind to me and sent a boy to accompany me to Gonzaga College where the Jesuit fathers had more room. I arrived there at 8:00 and was very kindly received. What was my surprise at finding one of my fellow voyageurs – Father Hogenfost – installed there. We were as pleased at meeting as if we had been old schoolfellows. I retired to bed, very grateful to the Jesuits for their kindness to me everywhere.

 

Sep 24

I said mass this morning at 8 and as it was Ember Saturday, I had to make provision for my dinner. I told the lay brother to boil me a few eggs very hard and give me a grain of salt in a paper. I could not eat meat and I could not get anything else at the railway station.

I started off South then and arrived at Linchburg at about 6 p.m. The country along looked rather wasted after the late war and such quantities of niggers as met me everywhere. Their black woolly heads were stuck out of windows, their big noses and mouths gaping at you and their black legs and arms waving around their heads to stick ornaments or banish flies. The servant’s work everywhere is done by them, but they are not allowed to assist or sit in the same cars with the whites, though politically their equals.

I met my brother John on the platform in Lynchburg and he joined me for the journey to Wythersville. We met one or two of Father Thom’s (my other brother’s) parishioners and one of them bought me some supper at a place called Liberty. I said I was not at liberty to take it because it was the wing of a fowl. I took the bread and a cup of coffee. We were due in Wythersville at two in the morning but something went amiss with the engine and we did not to get their until 4.

Sep 25

When we arrived at my brothers residence, F. Tom was out with his lamp to show us the way, John’s wife, a nice, sweet, young, handsome thing, just two months married was on tiptoe to see her husband’s eldest brother. She came up to me very timidly and when John said “here is your new sister”. I presented my cheek to her and thought she would lick it off so vociferously did she kiss it. I went to bed about 5:o’clock a.m. and was called at 9 and said mass at 10 (it was Sunday) and preached. The church is a nice, small tidy affair and in consequence of a paragraph in the local paper, a great many Protestants were there to hear me. After mass we had some breakfast and Father Tom took me for a drive in his buggy. We met a big greasy, beardy looking man at the door of a hotel and Tom said “Hello Lawyer Smith, how do?. This is my eldest brother, come and dine with us”. “No”, quoth the Lawyer, “and I have dined” – (it was about half past 12) – “but I shall go to hear him preach and come to see ye afterwards”. . We dined about two and then Tom drove me to a Captain Allen’s place. There we found two antiquated (?) of daughters – who had designs on John before he was married – and an old gran, their mother. We had a short chat and started home again. At half past six we had supper and at it also the doctor, (Dr. ?). John had ruined him with a story and we plagued him unmercifully. It seems John used to smoke too hard and the doctor forbade him. Next day the doctor called for a pipe and Tom gave him John’s and his tobacco. John makes out that the doctor provides himself with everything he needs in this way and the whole town is at him about it. At half past seven we had service and I preached again. Then we came home. I paid a short visit to a Spanish family. We gathered ourselves together then, sang songs, told stories, took our glasses of wine and made a merry party of it until 11:00 when I started for the train. F. Tom came with me as far as Lynchburg, where we arrived at 7:00 in the morning. It is a long way, 133 miles.

 

 

Sep 26

We took our breakfast and I took my ticket to New York. I parted from Tom and came on. I met a parsonish looking man at the Depot, who promised to befriend me as there was some difficulty about a “greenback” I received the day before and I wanted to change a £5 Bank of England note. The ticket manager gave me the full value of it and would not take any discount, though I offered it to him. When I was seated in my car and reading the paper the parsonish looking man came and sat beside me. He talked a good deal, asked my opinion of Anglican orders, which I told him were no use. He asked me then if I made any difference between Anglicans and other sects in England. I said yes, in a temporal way, in the way of superior cultivation, and in the way of some traditional appearance of a hierarchy. He then asked me was I a Jesuit and seemed evidently relieved, though not confident, when I said I was not. He then made a wild speech about the robust intellect not being good Roman Catholics because of a “mutilated sacrament”, “liturgy in Latin” and “confirmation of obligation”.. I returned to this argument by saying it was no sign of robust intellect to find fault with accidentals and miss the essentials they believed on their account. He then waxed warm and said he was Bishop of Louisiana and that Catholics came to him because he had ritualism. I asked was it then robust intellect and he said yes. “Very robust”, quote I, ”to prefer sham to reality”. “What, sir, do you call. my ceremonies a sham?. They are from the old rite of Sarum and they are venerable. You insult me, sir”. “I am sorry”, I said, “that I did not use a word of many syllables instead of one but when I see (?) without orders playing at priests, you will excuse me if I call their mimicry by its proper name”. “I did not expect you to answer me in that way, sir,” he said waxing hotter. I said, “you were very nice and very kind as long as you kept to secular things, but when you thrust controversy upon me, the demon of folly seemed to get possession of you, and since you have lost your temper, you will excuse me for declining further discussion with you”. He got up, made a stiff bow and went off in a rage. Five Yankees were listening as he said, retreating, “the usual contempt and exclusiveness of these Romanists: they cast us off but we are a branch of the true church”. One of the Yankees said “old fellow (?) I guess” and sent some tobacco juice to the window. Certainly bishops in this country are queer things. They seem to be very like our jumpers and soupers at home.

I arrived in Washington again at half past six and as the train for New York was not going till 9, I went off to see my friends the Jesuits and waited there chatting pleasantly, after supper and a good wash until it was time. I took a sleeping car, went to bed and was awakened near New York at 6:00 the next morning.

Of Mosquitoes and America

27 Sep

I was glad to find my way to West Hoboken again notwithstanding my dread of the mosquitoes. Said mass, saw some of the Brethren and after Vespers opened the visitation. I found some letters and newspapers from Europe here, and read some news about home. Nothing very interesting however and if there was itself I could scarcely get time to read it, so many things had I to attend to. .

Sep. 28

Today passed by without an event except the painful consciousness that I was nearly eaten alive by mosquitoes last night. My hands feet and face are all disfigured and the pain and torture of the poison is something not to be described

 

Sep 29

Feast of St. Michael and the 12^th anniversary of my profession. Oh, holy St. Michael don’t I suffered today. Let me describe a night with the mosquitoes. I go to my cell at 9:00, light my lamp and try to do some writing, of which I have a good deal on hands. Scarcely am I setting to when a thin sharp agonizing buzz rents my ears. The buzz means the besieging of mosquitoes. I feel one alight on the tip of my ear: up goes the pen to chase him. Just then my left ear is assailed by a (?) with the right ear assailant. I then flourish a handkerchief round and round which disperses the varmints for a few seconds. Just as I begin to write attention is claimed by the top of my nose whereon a mosquito is just sitting down to supper. He is going to bring back several more than himself, buz –z –z- ing eternally. I am assailed at all points, and give myself a shake, and pace the room and come to my chair again. I am on the point of cursing and swearing, or going mad. However, I make up my mind to take the thing coolly. I get a wet handkerchief rolled into a destructive-insect machine shape and go quietly to work annihilating my tormentors. I kill a dozen or so about the walls. Oh! The satisfaction of killing a mosquito. . Sweet revenge! I never understood your magical and thrilling power so well before! I find that they are not all destroyed and watch the bugger till he settles somewhere. If it be my cheek, a thumping slap pastes his wretched carcass thereto -next cheek, and I missed him, hurt myself and had the satisfaction of hearing the little rascal buzzing off in a fiendish laugh at me. Well, at him again. I crush him between my two palms in mid air. Grand Pius! The crown prince is nothing to you in warfare. When I imagined my room to be free from mosquitoes, I prepare myself for beds about half past 10. The lamp is out and I begin to compose myself to sleep when the troop of new insects gather around me and buzz most fearfully. So tired am I that I go off to sleep. Oh! for the enchantment of an Adamanthus , of fairy-tale celebrity, to keep me awake. In an hour’s time, I awoke all bitten, hands, face, feet full of poisoned blisters aching most fearfully. Maddened, I jump out of bed, light my lamp to find my tormentors, kill two or three with a grunt a savage might envy, when I see a cloud of them, full of my blood, taking after supper recreation in the air and gambling about the room. I must try some other room. I go off to a vacant room, lie down and on comes a host buzzing at my ears. Up again and pacing the corridor, vowing all sorts of vengeance, I go to cool my recent wounds in cold water and thrust myself out of the window in the night air for relief. Off-again to find some other room: it is F. Charles, in bed and unable to sleep from the mosquitoes – they don’t bite real Yankees at all it is only foreigners they feed upon – and try another room: fruitless attempt. At length about half past twelve I go off to the choir,, kneel down and rest my head on my hands and in that position I sleep till 2:00, Matins time. I only had two bites at me in that time but I feel my bones bruised and broken by my uncomfortable position. The religious assemble and we sing the Matins of St. Michael – my tones are far from angelic. I am sore and often I was distracted to think about how I shall quarter myself after the office. At half past three, I moved off like a man going to be hanged to my cell. No chance of rest. I move up and down, cool my burning wounds in water, rest a little on the banisters of a stairs and then settle on the parlour floor, and so continue like a troubled spirit until half six when I go and try to make my meditation, and was decidedly of the opinion that Hell must be full of mosquitoes. I look a sight in the morning. My face is all swollen and disfigured and my hands are puffed out with red sores to an enormous size. My joints ache, the poison is gone through my blood, I feel feverish, nervous, ill, snappish, sore and jaded all over I have to look forward to another, and another, and another night like the last. Two sleepless nights and a mosquito bitten frame is not the best provision for the hard work before me today. A High Mass at 10 today. A Monsignor Sexton (and the only ecclesiastical [?] of that ilk in the States) was to have preached. He did not come today, not being favourable to people perhaps, and another priest got up and preached in his place. This was the Rev. Mr. Doane, Chancellor of the diocese. His speech was very small talk and garnished with platitudes. After dinner I was introduced to some of the secular clergy. One was mighty at a cigar but dressed like a French dancing master looking for a situation in a provincial town. He had a nobby head of hair – every spare black tie (it was black), a capacious show of linen in front as if he were a walking advertisement for New York Tommies. His vest was innocent of a collar, unless perhaps it got stuck under his armpits. His coat was good, as far as it goes, but that was to about the centre of that portion of the human body which it is a disgrace to present either to a friend or to an enemy. The skirts of the aforementioned coat were not to be seen in front because a gentle slope in the cut of them gave you but a disturbing view of the corners. I did not view his skirts from any other side of him because I was not provided with a good microscope. His name is Father O’Hare and such a hare of a priest I never saw. He was not a bit ashamed of himself but rather pleased to think he looked smarter than the rest.

In the afternoon I went to the bishop’s room. There were no mosquitoes there and I slept until 6:00 or so.

Sep 30.

Last night I sat writing my dispatch to Rome until 12:00 o’clock in the anti-chamber of the bishop’s room. At that time I went to bed and slept soundly until near 6. I feel refreshed and the swelling has gone down in my hands and face. Today I concluded the visitation of this Province. Wrote and posted my report – with also some letters and then fell into the ordinary routine business. Went to sleep again in the bishop’s room – but o ye powers! the mosquitoes have found me out and come reinforced by American (?). The last. state of poor Pius is worse than the first..

Oct 1.

I could not go to rest after matins, so I went and shaved, sat in my room to read and fight mosquitoes, until 5. Then I went. to prepare for mass. Said mass at half past five and the mosquitoes were at me on the altar. Patience is a very fine thing to recommend or talk about but I never knew till today how hard it is to practice. I have done my work here now and this very day I go to New York to take my passage and make my arrangements for leaving this detestable country and going to that fair isle, blessed by St. Patrick and by heaven.

By the way, it is well I went to visit my brother in Virginia when I did. I find by this morning’s paper that the country is flooded down there and that Lynchburg is well nigh carried off or drowned in the waters. I could not get as far as the town if I tried. Two railway stations are carried off.

Today I went with Brother Boniface into New York to arrange about my return home and several other matters. We had not much difficulty in finding the Cunard office. The offices of all the big things in the world are in Broadway but our special branch was found at the Bowling Green, a triangular tiny bit of grass at the very end of Broadway, like unto Harold’s Cross Green but not so Irish. Instead of boys playing leapfrog and girls touch and go, and a stray donkey or goat with their attentions divided between a mouthful of grass and the probable teasing of the juveniles – you see it all squared and trimmed and proper. We took a berth in the Bavaria, which leaves New York on Thursday. Next. I sent a telegram by the Atlantic cable address and ‘Home next Thursday: Batavia” -, cost nearly £2.

Just as I was thus engaged, young Arthur Molloy walks up and makes himself known to me. He knew me, but I didn’t know him. Well one meets somebody who knows him everywhere! We called on Sadlier and I got to know something of the way in which books (?) get reprinted and replenished over here. We visited Father John Baptist’s new church in Hudson City on our way home.

Resume of Ideas

Now I am virtually leaving America I shall write down candidly the impression, which has been made on me by my brief stay therein.

There are many customs, usages and traits of manners in America, which strike the European in various ways according to his bias; but which are very different from those we have been accustomed to in the old country. It is fair play enough to have one’s laugh at them and to get laughed at in return but there is a something underlying our diversity which we ought to take a note of, and by which we should judge of things if we would do so candidly. In casting about for this key to American peculiarities as distinguished from us, I have been (?) to consider that it consists in what will seem a paradox – domesticity. I don’t mean that term in a sense it is generally (?) to, a stay at home, quiet, unobtrusive sense.

This is how I mean it, as applied to America. Americans look upon the whole states as their home, a thing that belongs to them and in which they are each individually concerned. . They are, consequently, at home in every part of it, and wonder at you for not understanding that a railroad and steamboat and streetcar is quite a family institution with every member of the States, so much so that I should not be at all surprised at a Yankee going around scolding to a conductor who did not mind his business. This idea will be better understood by illustrations.. ..

For instance we see sometimes in public places, waiters and lackeys taking their cigars, sticking their hands in their pockets and when they have served you would care very little about lolling on a sofa, pulling out a paper and keeping you in chat. They (?) you to something and if you don’t like it, toss their heads with an interrogative, “That’s so“. Now what is strange in this to us is that our attendants in Europe are big wooden machines, moved by social springs, void of ears, eyes even, and bound to be deaf, blind and dumb under penalty of dismissal. The United States ‘help’ is perfectly at home and wishes you to be so and lets you know that he is a human being as well as yourself, and very glad to have you as a member of his family for that day, provided you pay the proper number of cents or dollars for the privilege. Again we groan in spirit because we see Americans chewing tobacco and spiting just under our genteel noses. Well “my good English friend – suppose you were in your own house and took a fancy to a quid would you not do the same?”. “ To be sure”, you say, “but not before company.” That’s the difference between John Ball and Jonathan. The latter is never before company at all: he is always at home and does not understand our (?) for show and (?) for effect. We may laugh at Jonathan (two words indecipherable): we ought to understand him at the same time. In trains the conductor wears no uniform and he walks along his (?), takes your fair, talks to you like a friend, answers your questions and when he has done he will likely sit beside you and either ask or give information on a good variety of topics. He is quite at home and so ought you to be. But then he is only a conductor says Mrs Grundy. “And pray, Ma’am, what are you?. A tallow (?) wife who has not half his education or probity, though you wear gold bracelets and take a sip of brandy on the side”. .

Another peculiarity of Americans is their readiness to form new friendships. Now I have travelled a good deal and never dreamt of elevating a travelling companion (no matter how worthy or agreeable) into the position of a friend. I have had English and Irish fellow travellers on board and we were very cordial and very communicative to each other, but we separated without regret and didn’t care if we never met again. My American acquaintances were quite different, They took to me, they clung to me, they gave me their cards – I’ve six of them – , invited me to their homes and wished to know my address so that they could come round with me. Unfortunately I lost my pocket book in which their addresses were. Well, all through it is the same. .I make bold as to say they are the friendliest people in the world, and this again comes from their being at home and not being satisfied with one they like unless he partakes of their hospitality.

Another phase of American character I remarked was their utter.want of formality in doing their own business. I called once to a home whose mistress in England or Ireland would scorn to lay her fingers on anything lower than a piano, I found the ladies buried in household employment like servants. I called upon a wholesale wine merchant in New York and his wife came in during my stay with the basket on her arm containing the fruits of her marketing. I saw in the cars gentlemen and ladies carrying parcels from town, which filled their whole laps, and I found some of their men on a par with some of our squires at home. They do their own business just as they like and nobody minds anybody else. I want to make one exception to this in the very fine ladies; but they are not Americans pure and simple; they are people who have made money and have visited Europe.

In another point of view the same at home spirit comes out forcibly. In their public conveyances they are very considerate.. Clergy of all descriptions travel everywhere for half-fare and on some lines they go free altogether. In their streetcars, which correspond with our omnibuses, it is a common thing for several members of a community to have free passes and they are not over particular with regard to their transference. This is a great boon and one that we may look for in vain in our red-tape system of doing things. Then again the conductors have a sort of discretionary power if they know you. Besides this there is every sort of accommodation on railways.. You are made comfortable at a small cost and can find everything as if made out (?) for your special advantage. Then there is a confidential, conservative sort of intercourse in all their public transactions. If you want your baggage (?) in a certain way, for a certain reason – alright they’ll do that for you. Even their police (?) about the town are disposed for a friendly chat if need be, and ready for anything at all from pitch and toss to manslaughter. If you make inquiries of anyone you find them obliging, very civil and they will walk with you to show you your way and call you back once or twice for an extra repetition of their directions. It is the same in every sort of public office. You must in fact make yourself at home, while the agent of the steamer, does or does not interrupt the enjoyment of his cigar whilst arranging your safe conduct towards your destination.

There is one feature in Americans that strikes us very forcibly and that is what we are pleased to term their vanity. . They expect you to praise everything you see and hear, the paper currency, their customs, their roads, and their buildings .We don’t care a straw whether a stranger praises our buildings and institutions, and we are more likely to run them down ourselves than a foreigner world be. . What causes the difference? Just this. The American institutions belong like a farm to the citizens and as we know the pride everyone feels in his homestead, no matter how wretched, so may we understand the family vanity of the American.

Again we look upon Americans as great boasters and imagining they can “lick creation” etc. This is all very well, but do we never boast of our Constitution or of our heroes? And let that point pass. In a homestead every father and mother of a family look upon their children as the first in the word – “all their geese are swans”, as we say; and such being the tendency of Americans we need not be surprised at their love of country making them form a higher and as (?) estimate of their concerns than cold, criticising foreigners do. We don’t consider our national things as ours. The Government and we are two different things and we are ready to throw a stone at whatever does not concern us – it is not so here. Every public thing belongs to everybody. The people have made it, and the people may be excused, nay even lauded if they take more than European complacency in the work of their own hands. . This explains why the Americans are so touchy to satire and deprecating remarks. They shut their eye to their most glaring defects, just as a fond mother shields her scapegrace of a son from a father’s castigation,, and are not at all obliged to an unintelligent foreigner who picks holes in their ways and usage because they don’t consider it any business of his to stick his nose into family squabbles. On the whole, therefore, their faults and shortcomings, as far as can be understood with this key to them, seem points in their favour rather than blots on their national escutcheon.

Oct. 2.

Today I preached. F. Laurence came to see me and we spent the greater part of the day together. Fr. Laurence began to enlighten me on New York politics and a more corrupt and rascally system I never read of or imagined. One man kept a rum and whiskey shop a few years ago and is now a Judge! He is obliged to cast (?) for votes (the people vote in the judges) and must deal light penalties out to his party. He condemns a man publicly to Sing-Sing penal servitude and then in a week or two he is released and sent off to Chicago to set up anew. The Sheriff O’Brien is put in by thrives, who it seems are a great majority and he protects that class at any cost. Money does everything here and to be a civic official, mayor or alderman is to make a fortune. It is sad to see the want of principle and admiration for “smart men” in every department of the State. Mr. Arthur Molloy came to see me today and we had a long chat. He does not over like New York, and I think it would be better for young gentlemen to go to any city than to this: corruption and cheating alone can get you on here – honesty is a discount. Young men are often (?) here because they happened to be out of order in being honest. F. Laurence and myself spent a couple of hours towards twilight in killing mosquitoes. We killed about a dozen..I thought they were all slain and still 2 or 3 turned up when I lit my lamp and buzzed about my ears. We killed two of them. Well, there were only one or two buzzing while I went to rest. I got up from Matins without any serious biting. Afterwards I escaped. The first thing in the morning was to hunt mosquitoes and I found about six within the room. They were slain.

Oct 3

It is a beautiful thing to find that at length I am a match for the mosquitoes.. I can kill them with the shot of my handkerchief at five yards distance. This day is raining and (?) it is the second rainy day I have seen since I came to this country. It rains rather heavily all day long; but I am told it is as nothing to the rains in Virginia and Kentucky where it pours down like cascades and floods the country and carries away towns in a a few hours. This will drown the mosquitoes, eh!.

Oct 4

The mosquitoes did not torment me much last night; only about half a dozen bites were on my face and hands this morning. I had arranged with Father Laurence that we should meet at Hoboken Ferry as he intended piloting me through the “lions” of New York today. I got to the ferry five minutes before my time and Father Laurence, as usual, 10 minutes after. I stood like a big salami reading the paper and looking out for everyone who came up to me to see if it were he – something like the Peeler in the London railway station who takes the number of all the cab. At length his reverence slopes up to me with the morning paper in his fist and did not seem in the least concerned about being late, but rather pleased at his having come so near punctuality for once in his lifetime. We went then through Berkeley Street, where a great many of the Catholic publishers are, and called upon a Mr. Haverty. He did not seem to be doing overmuch. We walked on then to Wall Street and went to see the famous gold room, where so many fortunes are made or marred in a few hours. I saw nothing but (?) and a few counters and a few loafers lounging about. We paid a visit next to Trinity Church, the finest Protestant church here, and one that is considered the wealthiest in the world. The property dates from when New York was a Dutch swamp. It is a Gothic edifice much like a portion of Westminster Abbey. It has a beautiful stained glass window with figures of Our Lord and the four Evangelists and SS Peter and Paul with keys and sword. We called then on one or two of F. Laurence’s friends – a Mr, Trench, a Mr. Quinlan etc. We then went to see my fellow passenger the lawyer Mr. Easterman. He was quite disappointed because I would not go out with him to Long Island and spend the night with him there. We went then on the Fifth Avenue. The streets here are called by numbers, 32nd Street, 59^th Street etc., and in Washington they go by the letters of the alphabet and it is a very fine street, the best for private residence in New York. We saw the city hall and the law courts on our way but I had no inclination to go into them. We called to Hofmann House, a nice (?) hotel and took some lunch. Then went to the new cathedral. This is Gothic, built of white marble and will be one of the finest churches in America. It is almost up to the clerestory.

We went to Central Park. This park is not so large as Phoenix or the London parks. It is, however, more picturesque. You can see wild mountain scenery with bare rocks side by side with the most cultivated gardens – winding walks leading into curious grottoes and all the enchantment of art (?) nature with care and cultivation. .We got out at a corner of it in 8th Avenue then went into 8^th Avenue and then went on to Manhattanville. New York city comprises all the island of Manhattan, and when it has attained its full size it will beat London multiplied in geometrical (?). We called then upon Mr. McLoughlin ,a rich plumber and good Catholic to whom F. Laurence telegraphed yesterday that he would dine at 2 o’clock with him. We came just at 3 and F. Laurence thought we were quite punctual enough.

I forgot to say that in passing through the park my attention was called to two or three peculiarities. First, I saw lots of sparrows and they were the most comical little creatures of the feathered tribe I ever me. They ran about and flittered to and fro, with a knowing Yankee look as if they were winking at you. and come within an inch of your shoe so that you have to step away in order not to stand on them. They seemed to say, that is if birds can say anything, “You shoot us at home and fling stones at us, but here we are in a free country and we guess we are rather remarkable, a’int we?”. I just then remembered that a ship load of sparrows was brought over from England a few years ago and that they are quite pets here in the states, where birds are so few. I saw also a huge Dromedary drawing a mowing machine and moving very slowly – it looked the only animal out of place in the whole park. I saw also the oldest description of park-keepers I ever witnessed and they were all Irish men, proud of their uniform and just as (?) as the Sparrows. F. Laurence told me they werr politicians.

After dinner Mr McLaughlin took us in a grand carriage and pair through the finest scenery I have witnessed in the States. It seems Maryland is at the end of The Island, where the Hudson River and the East River are joined together by a passage of water called ‘Spite of the Devil’, so called from a Dutchman who swam across in the war, and said he would in spite of the devil, and he did. We went on then and visited a grand convent. This convent is called Mount St. Vincent and is managed by the Sisters of Charity. It is beautifully situated on the banks of the Hudson and alongside it, with the road between, is a new castle i.e., a mansion built like the old castles, but all new like everything in this country. The nuns don’t wear the white headdress of their sisters in France but they wear instead the ugliest bonnet that ever was invented. Their Sisters of Mercy coalscuttle is quite a beauty compared with it. It is made of bad glazed calico with one or two rods inside and projects a few inches over their bobs. You can see their haircut behind like little boys’ and their faces like pauper nurses. Their habit is tidy black with a collar or pellerine down to their elbows. They give a fine education. The Rev Mother weighs about 17 stone avoirdupois. We drove back from that place at 6 o’clock and when we got home our guest (sic) took his fiddle and played us a variety of Irish airs. His daughter, a child of seven years, sang beautifully and he accompanied. He is from Londonderry and when I asked him to play the Boyne Water he nearly broke his fiddle. Immediately after. I had a long ride then on the cars and got home pretty late.

Oct 5

Today I had to see some fathers who came from other houses and write a multitude of letters. (?) to my departure. I had to give some audiences also. One was to a a pair of ladies – one a married woman and the other a virgin (the ugliest and holiest – in her opinion – I ever saw). They complained of a father who called her a hypocrite: hearing I was the great “Boss”, from Europe and the boss sends them away with fleas in their ears.

At recreation in this evening, F. Hugh, a thorough Yankee gave us a strong speech. It was grand and beat Brother Anthony, for he improved the occasion in such a way that I thought he would never stop. A real; live nigger (our servant) sang me a few nigger songs. The poor fellow was a slave once and his spirit seems broken. I killed a few mosquitoes when I got to my cell and I’ll have it out of them before I start, although I am terribly reduced by the bleeding and poisoning. .

The Voyage Home

Oct 6

The villains of mosquitoes had their last feast on the last night. They bit me almost all over and I saw so many of them on the walls of my cell that I declined rolling my handkerchief with my own blood as it passed through their tiny bodies.

Father Athanasius came this morning to have a last interviewing with me before I start. I expected F. Laurence but of course he did not come. We had a debate as to whether he would or not. I thought it most likely he would, because I was to be on board at one and told him so. F. Athanasius thought it was likely but he had his doubts. We went off then. All the religious were at the door, some were sorry and some were not so at my departure. Those I was obliged to punish and thrash seemed glad enough that I was going and some of them seemed rather grieved. We got as far as the wharf about a quarter to one. I went on board, found my stateroom, large and commodious and everything in good order. FF. Thomas (O’Connor) and Athanasius were with me. We discussed the possibility of F. Laurence arriving. I was of opinion he would come just as we were starting and would raise his umbrella to the captain to wait a little. Athanasius said no, that he was sure Lawrence enquired at some office and found the steamer would not start till two or three and that he was waiting for the last moment. We went out on shore to wait for him and found that F. Athanasius had guessed right. He came about 2 and told me he had changed some American money into English for me, but did it by was of a draught, so that if I went down with my cheque the money would be safe and he deliberately tore off the duplicate in my presence. We called him to order about his sloth and he turned on us by saying that he never lost anything “whereas F. Rector was done by a bad note, and you (F.A.) lost your portmanteau”. He chuckled and winked over this hugely. He brought some American coppers out with him and found he would not change them. “Oh, no matter”, he says, “`I’ll distribute them on the cars, so many a day”. He is the most Yankified man from Europe I have met and the Yankieism becomes him. Just as we were discoursing a gent with cigar in his mouth walked into my cabin and showed me that he was booked as my companion.. I grumbled and said I was promised the whole of it.. He said he got such a ticket and we examined it. Then he put on a grand face and said I would not find him disreputable. He is an English man and a nice fellow: so I allowed him to stow away his things and we entered into partnership at once. I said goodbye to the fathers at half past two o’clock and set about (?) myself for the voyage. We were tugged out of our place at three and tugged again round about and at a quarter past three we were fully set East with a fair wind and a nice prospect. The Batavia is a new vessel and this is her second (?). There are 70 cabin passengers on board and some steerage, not very many. I look around to take stock of them and cannot make much of them, There are some ladies, old and young, some children, some babies. All these are bad for a storm. I hope none of them lodge near me. Dinner is set and we take our places as the steward obliges them. By my right hand I find a Mr. English from Liverpool and next him a Yankee officer, on half cock. They put me some questions and I (?) them. “What countrymen are you?” says the officer. “An Irish man”.. “Their are some Irish men in our force”. “Yes,” I say “there are Irish sons in many armies”.. “Oh yes” he says “Irish soldiers but not many Irish officers”. “Well”, I said, “it is better than to have them officers but no soldiers”. This was looked upon as a thrust at him and he was very quiet afterwards. He muttered something between his teeth and sneered at the Pope. I said I was glad the pope had not got him for a defender and I (three words indecipherable). We went on deck and the English man apologized for introducing the Yankee to me saying that he did not know he was so rude. I said, “Oh, never mind. Manners don’t enter into the education of an American. He will turn out better before the voyage is over, he is in a little tipsy just now.” So it happened. We adjourned to Mr. English’s cabin (which is also the officers) about six and had some brandy and water. The officer tumbled in sick as a dog and cursing like a trooper. He made up to a young beauty on deck and she rejected his advances. He swore at her and said something unbecoming. I (?) the joke and set them all laughing at him. He is a bigoted fellow and then he looked at me. “By -, I always admire a Catholic priest. By – he can crack a joke at the Devil himself. He is is not like those d—d Methodists who wear long faces and chisel you out of your dollars for their (?). Father, give us your hand. I am delighted to know you”. So the poor fellow began to turn good then and begged pardon for all his cursing. The Englishman and myself were highly amused. He was then told that he had better get seasick on deck and went off saying, “ I say, you cool bloody English! I’ll be bask shortly, I (two words indiscernible)”. He then pitched up his dinner without ceremony. When he had vomited, he came back and took off his uniform and turned into bed. His roommate said, “Why don’t you say your prayers?” “Dam it, I can’t. I’m too sick. The Reverend Father will say enough for both of us”. I replied, “My good fellow, I fear you are too much in arrears and it would take the whole voyage to pay your debts to Heaven” . He began then, , like a child, to say he was indeed a bad boy but not so very bad and hoped he would (?). In the evening I played chess with my roommate and found him an inferior player. Another took his place, a full match for me and as nice a player as ever I met. We played two games and I won them, but by the merest chance. The poor fellow was sick and obliged to go off (?). . At 9:00 o’clock or a little after I went off to bed and took my last farewell of American waters and land. May the Yankees live in peace. I am done with them.

Oct 7

I slept gloriously last night – there were no mosquitoes though the sea is rough. It was a job to dress. When you are putting a leg into your trousers your head was more than likely to go in first. In washing the ship sent you over to the farthest corner of the room to soap yourself and to regain your place at the basin you are bumped against your berth. It is great fun however if you are not sick. After my morning exercises I strolled out, breviary in hand, to look for a corner where I might sav my office. I paced the ship, and such sounds and screams and belches never assailed my ears before. Women screamed and then vomited with a squall: babies were crying and bawling (several words are indecipherable here). All are one mass of roaring, agonised suffering.

At breakfast we had only nine out of 70 able to sit at table and one of them was a lady. I went on deck and saw the spray dashing over the ship. It is a glorious sight to see her ploughing through waves, mountains high and the sky all black and cloudy. We have very rough weather and rougher expected. All the passengers, with the exception of eight or nine, keep their berths and roar and squeal and belch and shout and scream all day long. At lunch we had the same number minus the lady as at breakfast. I tried to read (?) and fell asleep. Then Nicholas Nickleby in German and fell asleep over that also. I visited the poor officer and found him unable even to curse but a right good fellow in his own unsophisticated way. He is going to join the Prussians. I had some games of chess after tea with the ship-doctor. He is a pretty good player but was not able to get a game off me. I have no match at chess so far except the poor American doctor, who is very sick indeed. .

Oct 8

This morning when getting on deck with my breviary under my arm, I slipped and measured my full length in about an inch of water. Some of the stewards could not help laughing; but one young fellow came and (?). and in a few hours the breeze on deck dried me. There is some sunbathing and (?) we are going very slowly, however. Yesterday we made 163 miles and today 164 – very poor going indeed. We had 12 at dinner today and my neighbour is a wonderful fellow who (?) everybody. The officer (who is a Count Blucher Scrathenbach or somebody) was got upon deck. He has vomited all his curses by this time and looks (?) tame. He was sitting in a very low mood on deck when he saw a lady as bad as himself. He began to do the gallant and got sick in the midst of his address to the great amusement of the passengers. I had some chess tonight. My friend, the American doctor, took a game off me at last. It was rather late when we got to bed as there are only about half a dozen who can enjoy themselves.

Oct 9

This is a fine morning and we are going about 11 knots an hour. There is less wind. At breakfast we had 15 (5 ladies); there are some children running about after two or three days sickness and their mamas and nurses have not yet recovered. We passed today an (?) steamer bound (?). At lunch we had 17 able to sit at table and our man treats a lot of us to champagne. We made 236 miles in the last twenty-four hours and are now going 12 knots an hour with four sails up. There is (three words indecipherable) and half of us are inclined to sleep. There was service in the cabin by the Doctor at 11. I was dozing in my stateroom at the time. I had a long talk with the count and I find he improves in company except in the way of getting over his (?).

Oh dear, my appetite for dinner will be spoilt and I shall get seasick and jump overboard or do something desperate. It is a trial that no man can stand and I have to look forward to five or six days of it. It is this. The weather is getting fine and those horrid American ladies are being packed up on the reclining chairs on deck. I went on deck and five big sausages of ladies were struck at various points of it. What shall I do? I shall pray for bad weather to confine then to their rooms but then they get seasick and stink. Well I shall offer it up in prayer for my sins, our look at them for the relief of the souls in Purgatory.

There is a dry sort of character here on deck who is in a perpetual vex with himself and the weather. He was determined not to get seasick; but, unfortunately, nature did not abide by his determination. He then stamps about and wants to look unsick and can’t succeed. He blames everything, the smoke, the viands and pretends that he is the (?) on board. When he comes down to his meals several people say innocently “I did not see you at breakfast or lunch”. He can’t bear that and (?) very severely immediately.. About six there was a collection of gentlemen in the saloon going in for punch. I am always invited to join every party: in fact I am become a friend of everybody so much so that some old (?) said something against priests, not in my presence, and a Scotch gentleman offered to fight him (?) away. There is an old fellow, with the profusion of great whiskers, at the party tonight and he says he drinks three bottles of brandy every day. He is a (?) and a great bruiser. He had us all in roars of laughter. There was an arrangement between myself and the doctor for a game of chess in his room. . Chips and cards are not allowed in the saloon on Sundays. A Puritan said he thought chips broke the Sabbath.. I said not and gave reasons. I played two games with the doctor and he drew the second after losing the first.. When I came back to the saloon I found the Sabbatharian three sheets in the wind. That did not break make the Sabbath at all. I went on deck at 10 and had a walk with the Captain until 11 and then I turned into my berth for the night.

Oct 10.

I was up on deck at seven and found the Yorkshire man there – not yet quite sober – who boasts that he lost no time drinking this morning and did not exactly remember how he got to bed last night. I could not say my office with him. The Scotchman ran at me – not perfectly sober yet – and shook me warmly by the hand. The party were at Champaign and wanted me to join and I declined until after dinner .I think they want to catch me – but they shan’t. They had betted largely on the ships (?), and one man, a Dutch man or German, won a whole lot of half crowns. He gave them a treat out of them and pocketed the rest. This annoyed those who are inclined for drink, and at dinner my next neighbour, who was not sober, spoke very furiously against him. I tried to plead for him but could not succeed. He wanted me to go over to Liverpool and marry him: said he’d like me to perform the ceremony. A warship “The Dart”, stopped us today and when the captain found she only wanted to be reported he was rather annoyed. All that might have been done without stopping. It is a curious thing to see ships speaking to each other by flags at 20 miles distance.

Oct 11..

I played yesterday with the Dutch man and I find him the (?) player I have met yet. He was an overmatch for me I think. At lunch I took to reasoning with my friend for his violence yesterday and succeeded in talking him into a good mood. At dinner the West Indian fired off some aphorisms at the poor Dutch man who told him at last, “(three words indecipherable)”. The old fellow thereafter fell asleep over his desert. The Scotch Man (Forbes) was so indignant that he was going to fight him. I said “you might come off second best, my good friend”. “Well it’s guid ta suffer in so guid a cause”, said the Scot.. A lady from Nova Scotia played chess with her husband today and beat him. It was the first time I ever saw I lady win at chess and I marvelled exceedingly. . After tea a friend proposed that I should play with the lady. I did so and beat the poor thing three or four times. Her husband was (?) she should beat me but I was not at all inclined to be beaten, especially by a lady. And I played afterwards with the Dutchman. We had a five: each won two and the third was a drawn game. After this I went on deck and we had a fiddle and a concertina playing. Forbes was stretched on the deck half-gone. When I asked him could he dance a Highland- fling, he jumped to his feet and when I thought he was about to (?) he took to his heels in great glee and did the dance so well that he got applauded.

Oct 12

We had 274 miles yesterday. This morning we were rather full of an event. Two Americans had come among the cabin passengers, didn’t mind, played (even chess, the most genteel of all games) and it was found out last night that they had not paid for their passage at all. The captain was mighty wroth, put them the (?) all night, and stowed them into the (?) this morning. We ran 274 miles before 12 today and about 2 we were just halfway between New York and Queenstown. I played chess today and the Dutchman beat me. I must have it out of him tonight. No one offers to play either of us now .We have gone so far ahead of all on board. Perhaps some other Dutch man would turn up before the end of the voyage. There are some very nice fellows among the passengers and some ugly rowdies.. We must put up with a great many things at sea. The Dutchman beat me again this evening. I had only the satisfaction of drinking his health of (?).

Oct 13.

.

We went 281 miles in the last 24 hours. I played with the Dutch man after dinner and gained upon him so far that out of four games I won one and drew another. Then in the evening I walloped him most gloriously, beat him to smithereens and won every single game. Well, I never felt so pleased over a game of chess before. I began to read the life of Sidney Smith by his daughter today and it made me laugh so much that I can scarcely enjoy anything else. Just as I was reading, the ship’s doctor, in the full glow of his uniform, asked me to play chess with him. He is a pretty fair player, who feels a defeat so much that one fears his taking (?) so nice afterwards. An Irish gentleman, then engaged in whist said, “Ach doctor you are a cheeky fellow going to play a man who could be a professor of chess”. We played about half an hour (a good hard game takes an hour and a half) he (?) two of the most awful things ever a man got. He pitched the men from him, ran off and as if he were not mad enough, this rogue shouted, “Eh, Doctor, has his reverence sent you off for some pills?”. I resumed my reading and at 11 tumbled into bed.

Oct 14.

Today is Friday and a rather blue look out in the feeding way. Breakfast all right: some fish, (?), and eggs. No lunch. I took some bluefish at dinner and it gave me the diarrhoea. I was consequently in poor spirits were it not for the Life of Sidney Smith, which kept me in roars of laughter every five minutes during the day. The old Scotsman amused us wonderfully. He is a very peculiar looking man. He is thin, crooked, old, with a face like a monkey and ears like a calf.. He opened his mouth very wide at everything and I rather think that he (?) with his throat, as his ears are deaf. He is highly sanctimonious and thinks all men are going to the devil except himself. Moreover, he thinks me Antichrist he looks so sourly when I pass him. It is getting somewhat strong today and the ladies disappear from the deck – Glory! Glory! Alleluia! I play chess with the Dutchman again and he comes off one game ahead of me at night. I am (?) with my interior, and retire to rest .We went 288 miles..

Oct 15

St. Teresa’s day. I thought of my. Nuns at Warrernmount and of their doings today.. Pity I was not there to join them. Good souls, and worthy of St. Teresa. We went 311 yesterday. There is a high wind today; but in our favour and we look at the ship ploughing through waves like huge moving mountains. Chess before dinner and beat the Dutchman. We are now about 511 miles from Queenstown and we expect to be insight of Ireland tomorrow morning. The wind is very high today, but fortunately it is in our favour, so that though we are knocked about a great deal and sea soup (?) with people’s laps and a variety of disturbing bumps against walls and tables we are disposed to forgive everything since we ran before the gale at the rate of 13 miles an hour. Some people got sick today again and thinned the ranks at table in consequence. A little boy was crying in bed and when the steward asked him why he said, “Stewards put me to bed”. “I wish somebody would put me to bed”, quoth the poor steward., who cannot get in until 12 o’clock or thereabouts.. The old Scott keeps his side of the table in fits of laughter by bad jokes at which he laughs most inordinately himself and then the rest laugh at him, He collared the Doctor and said “Aye mon, ye’re one o’ the Pope’s bairns because ye rod the hurricane”. I am threatening to join the doctor if he officiates without order and we have some sport on the head of it. Chess with the Dutchman and a little odds in my favour today.

Oct 16.

Sunday today and very squally all day. It was no joke to shave this morning. The run yesterday was 300 miles: that leaves us 2571 miles from New York and 249 from Queenstown. We shall not come in sight of land till tonight. It is no small matter to write on board and the table and yourself about being tumbled every minute. . Pooh – there goes my desk – my legs now. I get my papers together and bundle off to my cabin to tie the furniture thereof with ropes for it is singular what a tendency glasses and iron bars have of coming together during a storm. The storm increases and two or three ladies, very nervous, asked me is there was any danger and I calm their minds a bit, though not their bodies, for they get bumped about as if they were mere sacks. Just as I have calmed them the Scotch genius comes up and shouts in our ears (because he is deaf), “Guid job, sor, we’ve such excellent boats and canny men to guide them”. All my consolation of the ladies comes to naught at this new idea. However there is no prospect of our having to take to the boats, though I observe the officers are wonderfully on the watch. No games are allowed today in the saloon, so myself and the Dutch man betake ourselves to his cabin and their begin our contest at chess. He first “damned” all the Scotch and English Protestants for their sabbatharian tendencies and swore they would get drunk – which a good many did. While we were thus engaged some of the men outside came to the old Scott, who was reading the Bible, and put on long faces saying, “ The Sabbath is being violated”. “Ach, man,, ye dinna say so. Which is it that profanes the Lord’s day?” “The priest”, said one, “is playing chess”. “And who is with him?”, said the Scot. “A Jew”, they all replied.. “I dinna wonder then: a bairn of the Pope and a son of Israel have no regard for the Sabbath”. Three or four come to me and reported accordingly. I won the last game and myself and the Dutch man exchanged cards and promised we would visit each if chance would fling us in those parts where either of us resided. I intended giving a treat today to all the gentlemen who treated me so often, but at dinner I found they had treated themselves a little too much, so I desisted. . Professor O’Leary drew a caricature of the old Scot and remarkably well done it was. .

Oct 17

I was up this morning at 4:00 o’clock and I had slept little; for just in the middle of the night a great lurch of the ship sent my cabin companion out into the middle of the floor, and were it not that nature was kind to me in point of longitude, I’d have shared the same fate..

About quarter past four we saw a light and this was the first evidence we had of the nearness of land. In a short time we came nearer and I could distinguish the usual sign of the long black cloud-looking thing. How delightful to see poor old Ireland once more. It seems as if I were a year away and I feel ready to jump out and embrace even the rocks. At a quarter to six we saw the Watchtower at Brow-Head and the Fastnet light- house off Cape Clear. We fired a rocket, a signal was put up to answer and our admiral was telegraphed – 4 hours before we could put into Queenstown. This Fastnet Light-house is a curious thing: it is about 5 miles from land built on a rock which rises out of the sea as if it had been built there on purpose. We were all taking observations and my old Scotch (?) came to me for a peep. I gave him an opera glass I had borrowed and turned the wrong end towards him.. He was looking through this end most ingloriously and could, of course, see nothing until the whole deck was in a roar of laughter. I went then and took off my sea-cap and put myself into line for landing. I had a great many shaking hands with me and an English lady sighed most audibly because I was not going to Liverpool. I asked her why and she sighed again, “ Because I’d like to be looking at you”. I said, “Captain did you hear that complement? I’m sure you don’t get the like of that every day”. “Oh,”, he replied, “ladies know well when to give complements – where there is no danger of their being taken”. There were several good humoured pieces of fun sent through the crowd and remarks made about Ireland not being so green, the coast looks barren and wild here – and then came leave taking as we saw the little tender coming out from the mouth of the harbour. I stepped on board the tender at 11 o’clock and after a waving of handkerchiefs etc. we steamed into Queenstown where we arrived at. a quarter past 12. I soon perceived I was in Ireland,. First of all, there was the most intense confusion about nothing at all – some rope or other was in the way of the tanker and the fellow in charge of it could not be found: cursing and scolding therefore to some extent. Then the customhouse officers came and said they would (?) our things easily. They looked in, examined but said they could not let them out until some head officer came. This fellow kept us there sucking out thumbs for about an hour, to my intense disgust, and we lost the train.. How well was I reminded of “the Paddy go aisy” style of doing things here. In England and America all is better but regularity – Every man at his post –“Tickets ready, gentleman” – “Take your seats gentlemen”. When you come to Ireland the first thing is, “Plenty av time gintlemin”. However, it is a nice little place after all, and if it has its drawbacks, it has beauty you will seek in vain in other parts of the world. Br. John met me here and we travelled together to Cork.

Oct 18

Today I got up and began to look out for squalls. I caught hold of the bed and wondered my washing stand did not come to meet me. It required some trouble to walk steadily but I succeeded in regaining my old habit. I left Cork by the 12.40 train for Dublin and arrived at St. Paul’s a little after 6 the same evening, prepared to give everyone an account of my voyage of course. I thought Ireland as seen from the railway from Cork the most beautiful country in the world and my own home the most delightful spot under the sun.