WE had now the afternoon and evening of a fine day before us, for the steamer would not return until midnight, and we made up our minds to see all we could. The old city of Calais is only a dull place, but we found plenty of objects to amuse us. There were no splendid shops, but many curious old houses and public buildings. In walking through the streets we more often met with three classes of the people than WHERE I WENT AND WHAT I SAW. any other-women, soldiers, and priests. The young women, as sprightly as larks, with large caps as white as snow, and finger-rings and large ear-rings. Even aged women, sitting at their fruit-stalls, seemed very fond of such fine things. The little soldiers in their neat caps and blue jackets, wide red trousers, light yellow leggins, and white gaiters, looked very odd; and the priests in long black coats reaching to their heels, and large black hats with very broad brims, looked very dull and gloomy. These three, women, soldiers, and priests, seem as if they were the chief people in France. I am glad it is not so in England. We went down to the sea shore where the bathing machines are. There were lots of smart women and merry children, and many soldiers, but no priests. The little folks were playing just as English children do, only they were bolder when wading into the water. One good plan they have here which we have not. Beyond the machines is a boat with two police-men in it, moving about among the bathers, ready to help any who may be in danger. Instead of tea we had more of the good coffee and shrimps; and then we had a ride in a bus for twopence to St. Pierre. We went down some queer old streets and over the ramparts, then we were in what WHERE I WENT AND WHAT I SAW. is called St. Pierre. But the main street is a wide road with many newer good houses and shops. This new town is said to have more people in it than the old city. I was told that about forty years ago two men from Nottingham came here and built a lace factory; now there are many, and a large lace trade is carried on. My young friends walked back to Calais another way, for they wanted to see some public gardens. I was too tired, and rode back in the bus. I then walked into other parts of the city where I had not been before, and up to the new lighthouse. When I stood looking into a shop window, or at some great building, a few saucy children would come and stare at me, and jabber something about me in French. Perhaps it was my dress that made them try to make out who and what I was. For it is true that I did not meet one old gentleman all that day dressed as I was, though I was only dressed as I had been nearly all my life. But I thought I would be a match for them by saying something that neither they nor myself nor any one else could tell the meaning. So turning to them as if I were angry, I said in a louder voice than usual, "aldi-bironti-phosco-phorniochronon-hoton-thologos!" and away they all ran! WHERE I WENT AND WHAT I SAW. I went back to the coffee-shop, and, to my content, my young friends were not long before they came. At nine o'clock we were sitting at the open window looking down into the spacious market place, when there came a band of soldiers with bugles, who blew out some grand notes to let the soldiers all over the city know that they must go to their quarters. At eleven o'clock we had coffee again, and soon after went down to the steamer; but we had to wait for the mail train from Paris. It was one o'clock before it came; but they soon tumbled the bags and baggage on board, and the cabin was soon filled with passengers. Our steam was up, and we started. It was a dark wet night. Once or twice I went up on deck. O, it was awful! We could see nothing above or around but the white foam of the water sent off by the paddles. We were dashing along at great speed, and I could not help thinking how dreadful it would be if we ran into another vessel, or it ran into us. About four o'clock we saw the gas-lights round Dover harbour. We were soon there. Two London trains were waiting on the pier, and in less than ten minutes all the mail-bags, passengers, and luggage, were in their places, and the trains started. Day was breaking as we walked through Dover to the THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN'S BOAT-SONG. Priory Station, from which two of us started at six o'clock; had breakfast in London, then dinner, and were thankful to be at "sweet home" in dear "Old England" at seven that evening. But I have done now. Of one sad thing which I heard about a few weeks after we had been I must tell you, when what some of us feared as we were coming back so fast on that dark night did take place. The steamer was going from Dover to Calais one dark night, when an American ship ran into her, and several were drowned, and all were in great fear. Such things happen now and then, though the sailors do all they can to prevent them. THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN'S BOAT-SONG. ROWING ACROSS THE RIVER ON THE NIGHT BEFORE DEATH. My boat will reach the other shore When o'er the death-cold river; All trouble gone for ever! |