Foot-prints of Travel: or, Journeyings in Many Lands

This might appropriately be called the city of monuments. Among the most prominent are statues to Sir Walter Scott, Nelson, Playfair, Professor Wilson, Allan Ramsay, the Duke of Wellington, and Robert Burns. Scott's monument stands quite by itself on Princes Street, and rises to two hundred feet in height. Few monuments in the world equal this Gothic structure in architectural beauty. The citizens of Edinburgh may well be proud of their numerous educational institutions and charitable establishments, in which departments of noble liberality no city in Great Britain can surpass the Scotch metropolis. Near by Holyrood Palace are the ruins of the ancient abbey of the same name, founded by David I. nearly eight hundred years ago. In its chapel Queen Mary was married to Lord Darnley. In visiting the castle on the hill we are shown the small room wherein Queen Mary became the mother of James VI., who was afterwards king of England. The royal infant was lowered from the window of the little chamber in a basket, when friends received it and thus saved it from its scheming enemies.

In the High Street we visit the house where John Knox, the great Scottish reformer, lived. Close by, in White Horse Close, is the inn where Dr. Johnson lodged in 1773, while in the churchyard hard by are the graves of Adam Smith and Dugald Stewart. It is not possible to feel indifferent to such associations. No grander figure can be found in the history of the Reformation than that of John Knox. His biography reads like a romance. Whether serving a two years' sentence in the French galleys, enduring a siege in the castle of St. Andrews, being tried for treason by order of Queen Mary, haranguing from the pulpit against what he considered false religionists, or having his steps dogged by assassins, Knox never swerved from what he believed to be the path of duty.

In the immediate environs of the city, to the south of Holyrood, are Salisbury Crags and Arthur's Seat, always visited by strangers, besides being a favorite resort of the citizens of Edinburgh. There is a fine road-way which surrounds Arthur's Seat, known as "The Queen's Drive." Scott made this vicinity of more than passing interest by his "Heart of Mid-Lothian," and the local guides point out the spot where Jeanie Deans is represented to have met Robertson. The "Queen's Drive" affords from several points charmingly comprehensive views.

A drive of twenty miles through the hills and plains lying to the southeast of the city will take us to Melrose, a place only noted for its famous ruins of the Abbey. It was founded by David I., in 1136, for monks of the Cistercian order, and rebuilt in an elaborate and elegant style between the reign of Robert Bruce and James IV. It was the finest church, as it is the noblest ruin, in Scotland. Scott has rendered us familiar with it. From here we drive to Abbotsford, the home of Sir Walter, and which is still kept exactly in the condition in which the poet left it on the day of his death. We wander through the house, lingering in the library, sit in the chair before the table where he sat and wrote in prose and poetry; we examine the curious collection of armor and the various historical mementos which he gathered about him, among which are weapons once owned by Rob Roy and the Douglas, and those of other real characters about whom his genius has woven such romantic interest. Abbotsford House is large, imposing, and beautifully situated, the spacious grounds which are attached to it sloping gracefully down to the banks of the river Tweed, beyond which rise the beautiful Selkirk Hills.

In travelling about the rural districts of Scotland in the vicinity of Edinburgh, one is impressed by the thrifty appearance of the country, which seems to be cultivated with great care. We see many flocks of sheep. There is not much attempt at what is called gardening, but a few staples in grain are depended upon, and much attention is given to the raising of sheep, horses, and cattle. The men and women are of a strong, vigorous type, hospitable and kindly. The national characteristics of the Scotch exhibit themselves in the simplest transactions. They are a remarkably intelligent and well-educated people; steady-going, plodding, economical, very set in their ways and opinions, being rather slow according to American ideas, but uncommonly sure and reliable.

Glasgow differs from Edinburgh in many respects. Its situation is low, and the view is obstructed by a multiplicity of tall, smoky chimneys, with other tokens of manufacturing industry. It is the most populous city of Scotland, having over half a million of inhabitants, and is located on the banks of the river Clyde. Except in the manufacturing parts of the town, the architecture and streets are fine and attractive. Dressed freestone is the material most commonly used in the construction of the best dwelling-houses and the public buildings. The river is crossed by five noble bridges, – two of granite, one of iron, – and two are suspension bridges. The city reminds one forcibly of Pittsburgh in America. The chemical works, foundries, and workshops of all kinds, using such quantities of bituminous or soft coal, create an atmosphere of a dense, smoky character.

Glasgow contains four large and beautifully kept parks. The city is over a thousand years old, but we have no record of its earliest three or four centuries. Situated in the midst of a district abounding in coal and iron, and upon a river which insures it world-wide commerce, maritime enterprise has been a natural result. Here James Watt made his memorable improvements in the steam-engine, and here Henry Bell first demonstrated in the Old World the practicability of steam navigation. This was in 1812, four years after Fulton's successful experiments upon the Hudson River in this country, but of which Bell seems to have had no knowledge. Glasgow has many handsome and substantial blocks of dwelling-houses. Buchanan Street and Queen Street are both remarkably elegant thoroughfares; the former especially is notable for its large and attractive stores. Argyle Street is very broad and two miles long, one of the finest avenues in Great Britain. Here, as in Edinburgh, there are numerous public monuments, among which we observe the equestrian statues of William III., the Duke of Wellington, in front of the Royal Exchange; and that of Queen Victoria, in George's Square. There is also an obelisk one hundred and forty feet high, erected to the honor of Nelson, besides others of Sir Walter Scott, Sir John Moore, James Watt, Sir Robert Peel, etc.

There are two chimneys in the city designed to carry off the poisonous gases from the chemical works, which are respectively four hundred and sixty, and four hundred and fifty feet in height, the latter carrying off the vapor from St. Rollox, the largest chemical manufactory in the world. These buildings cover fifteen acres of ground, and the works give employment to over a thousand men. Cotton factories are also numerous here, and calico-printing establishments. Beer-brewing is one of the largest branches of manufacture, as it is also in London. In the building of iron steamships the port of Glasgow leads the world. For a long time there was an average of one steamer a day launched on the banks of the Clyde, in the vicinity, though this number is not quite kept up at the present time. Clyde steamers have a high reputation, and are given the preference for durability and general excellence of workmanship.

Greenock, with a population of about fifty thousand, is one of the finest seaports in Scotland, having also a large business in iron ship-building. This was the native place of James Watt, already spoken of, and here we observe an admirable statue reared to his memory. The city is situated a little over twenty miles from Glasgow, on the Firth of Clyde. From here we take passage in a steamer across the Irish Sea to Belfast, the principal city of Northern Ireland.

Belfast has a population of about two hundred thousand, and next to Dublin is the most important city of the country. It is comparatively modern, its tall chimneys, large factories, and spinning-mills speaking intelligibly of material prosperity. Queen's College is a large structure in the Tudor style, with a frontage of six hundred feet in length. There is an admirable museum on College Square containing a large collection of Irish antiquities. We also find an excellent botanical garden here, and there are no better school facilities in the United Kingdom than are to be enjoyed in this metropolis of Northern Ireland. From Cave Hill, in the suburbs, an elevation over a thousand feet in height, a most admirable view of the city and its surroundings may be enjoyed, the coast of Scotland being visible on the far horizon. The streets of Belfast are regular, broad, and cleanly, and many of the public buildings are superb in architectural effect. The city hall, the custom house, the Ulster Bank, and Linen Hall are all noble structures. This is the great headquarters of the Irish linen trade.

A short journey of about a hundred miles due south by railway will bring us to Dublin, the capital of Ireland. It has a population of about four hundred thousand, and is situated on the shore of Dublin Bay, with the river Liffey flowing through its centre. It is an attractive city with very beautiful surroundings. There are many grand public buildings, several large parks, a number of interesting old churches, and a cathedral, – St. Patrick's, – connected with which are the associations of six centuries. The remains of Dean Swift are buried here. Near by is the house where Thomas Moore, the poet, was born, and not far away is the birthplace of the Duke of Wellington. Dublin has its public library, its museum, its Royal College of Surgeons, and its famous Trinity College, where Goldsmith, Swift, Burke, and many others graduated. It has also many noble charitable organizations and societies for the diffusion of science. The zoölogical garden is one of the most extensive in Great Britain. Dublin Castle is near the centre of the city, on slightly elevated ground, containing an armory, a chapel, and various government offices. This city claims great antiquity, having existed as a capital since the days of Ptolemy. It was for centuries held by the Danes; in 1169 it was taken by the English under Strongbow, whose remains lie in Christ Church Cathedral.

From Dublin we take passage on board of a steamer for Liverpool, the commercial metropolis of England, which contains about seven hundred thousand inhabitants. It is situated on the river Mersey, four miles from the sea. To the traveller it presents few attractions save those of a great shipping depot, which is unsurpassed in the department of maritime enterprise.

The moral and physical character of the population, taken in mass, is rather low, though the city has many institutions and associations designed to promote intelligence and to fulfil all charitable demands. The exhibitions of intemperance to be met with upon the streets at all hours forms a disgraceful picture of humanity, in which respect Liverpool seems to be more sadly afflicted than are the lowest sections of London.

From here we sail for Nassau, New Providence, a British possession in the Bahama Islands, lying northeast from Cuba, the largest of the West Indian Islands.

CHAPTER XXIII

Upon landing at Nassau we find everything quite different from our late experiences in the large European cities, and are brought face to face with nature, – with a tropical race and with tropical vegetation. Instead of palatial edifices we have low native huts, while the people we meet have the bronzed hue of Africans. This island, which was settled by Europeans as early as 1629, contains nearly a hundred square miles. The town has a small free library, several churches, a hospital, and a bank.

It seems singular that an island like New Providence, which is almost without soil, should be so productive in vegetation. It is surrounded by low-lying coral reefs, and is itself of the same formation. In a pulverized condition this limestone forms the earth out of which spring palm, banana, ceba, orange, lemon, tamarind, mahogany, and cocoanut trees, with various others, besides an almost endless variety of flowers. Science teaches us that all soils are but broken and decomposed rock pulverized by various agencies acting through long periods of time. So the molten lava which once poured from the fiery mouth of Vesuvius has become the soil of thriving vineyards which produce the choice grapes whence is made the priceless Lachryma Cristi wine of Naples. This transformation of lava into soil is not accomplished in the period of a single life.

The luscious pineapple, zapota, mango, pomegranate, citron, custard-apple, and other fruits captivate the palate of the stranger, while the profuseness and variety of beautiful ferns and orchids delight the eye of the northerner. The negroes are mostly engaged in cultivating pineapples, yams, sweet potatoes, and other vegetables, and a large number of the males employ themselves in fishing and gathering sponges. From this locality comes the largest supply of coarse sponge which is used in England and America. There is also a considerable trade carried on in fine turtle-shell, which is polished in an exquisite manner by the patient natives. The Bahama sponges are not equal to those obtained in the Mediterranean. But they are marketable for certain uses, and Nassau exports half a million dollars' worth annually. It is said that sponges can be propagated by cuttings taken from living specimens, which, when properly attached to a piece of board and sunk in the sea, will increase and multiply. Thus the fine Mediterranean sponge can be successfully transported to the coral reefs of the Bahamas.

A short drive or walk inland over smooth roads, formed of smooth, levelled coral rocks, brings us to the extensive pineapple fields, where this handsome fruit may be seen in the several stages of growth, varying according to the season of the year and the purposes of its use. If intended for exportation, the fruit is gathered when well-grown but still in a green state; if designed for canning, – that is, preserving, – the riper it is, the better it is adapted to the purpose. Great quantities are put in tin cans carefully sealed for use in this and other countries. The visitor is sure to be impressed by the beauty and grace of the cocoanut-trees, their plume of leaves, often sixty feet from the ground, notwithstanding that the bare stem or trunk is rarely over two feet in thickness.

There are said to be six hundred of the Bahama Islands, large and small, of which Nassau is the capital, and here the English governor-general resides. Many are mere rocky islets, and not more than twenty have fixed inhabitants. The sea-gardens, as they are called, situated just off the shore of the main island, are extremely interesting. We go out a short distance in a row-boat, and by means of a simple contrivance of wood and glass we can look many fathoms below the surface of the sea. These water-glasses are easily made, being formed of a small wooden box three or four inches square, open at the top and having a water-tight glass bottom. With the glass portion slightly submerged one is able to see distinctly the beautiful coral reefs with their marvellous surroundings. There are displayed tiny caves and grottoes of white coral, star-fishes, sea-urchins, growing sponges, sea-fans, and bright-colored fishes, including the hummingbird fish, and others like butterflies with mottled fins and scales, together with that little oddity, the rainbow-fish. The prevailing color of this attractive creature is dark green, but the tinted margins of its scales so reflect the light as to show all the colors of the rainbow, and hence its name. When bottled in alcohol for preservation, these fish lose their native colors. This unique display is enhanced in beauty by the clearness of these waters, and the reflected lights from the snow-white sandy bottom, which is dotted here and there by delicate shells of various shapes and colors. One longs to descend among these coral bowers, – these mermaid gardens, – and pluck a bouquet of the submarine flora in its purple, yellow, and scarlet freshness.

The surface life of these clear waters is also extremely interesting. Here the floating jelly-fish, called from its phosphorescence the glow-worm of the sea, is observed in great variety, sheltering little colonies of young fishes, which rush forth for a moment to capture some passing mite, and as quickly return again to their cover. If we take up a handful of the floating gulf-weed, we find within the pale yellow leaves and berries, tiny pipe-fish, seahorses, and specimens of the little nest-building fishes. Thus this curious weed forms a home for parasites, crabs, and shell-fishes, being itself a sort of mistletoe of the ocean. The young of the mackerel and the herring glide rapidly about in shoals, just below the surface, near the shore, like myriad pieces of silver. Verily there would seem to be more of animal life below than above the surface of the waters, which is not an unreasonable conclusion when it is remembered that the whole surface of the globe is supposed to have an area of about two hundred million square miles, and that of these only about fifty millions are composed of dry land.

Much of the drinking-water, and certainly the best in use at Nassau, as well as on some of the neighboring islands, is procured in a remarkable manner from the sea. Not far from shore, on the coral reefs, there are never-failing fresh-water springs, bubbling up from the bottom through the salt water with such force as to clearly indicate their locality. Over these ocean springs the people place sunken barrels filled with sand, one above another, the bottoms and tops being first removed. The fresh water is thus conducted to the surface through the column of sand, which acts as a filter, the water being sweet and palatable, as well as remarkable for its crystal clearness. So on the arid shores of the Persian Gulf, where rain seldom falls, and where there are no rills to refresh the parched soil, fresh water is obtained from springs beneath the sea. There it is brought to the surface by employing divers, who descend with leather bags. The mouth of a bag is placed over the bubbling spring, quickly filled and closed again, being then drawn to the surface by persons awaiting the signal from the diver, who then hastens to rise for needed air. There is no mystery as to the source of these springs. The rain falls on the distant mountains, and finding its way through the rocky ledges, pursues its course until it gushes forth in the bed of the gulf.

A fortnightly steamer from New York, bound for Cuba, touches at Nassau on the southward trip to leave the mail, and we will avail ourselves of this opportunity to visit the "Queen of the Antilles," as this island is called. At first we steam to the north for half a day, in order to find a safe channel out of the Bahamas, where there is more of shoal than of navigable waters, and as we do so, we leave many islands behind us inhabited only by turtles, flamingoes, and sea-birds. But we are soon steaming due south again towards our destination, namely, the island of Cuba, five hundred miles away. San Salvador is sighted on our starboard bow (right-hand side), the spot where Columbus first landed in the New World. It will be found laid down on most English maps as Cat Island, and is now the home of two or three thousand colored people, the descendants of imported Africans. The island is nearly as large as New Providence. It is said that the oranges grown here are the sweetest and best that are known. The voyager in these latitudes is constantly saluted by gentle breezes full of tropical fragrance, intensified in effect by the distant view of cocoanut, palmetto, and banana trees, clothing the islands in a mantle of green, down to the very water's edge. As we glide along, gazing shoreward, now and again little groups of swallows seem to be flitting a few feet above the waves, then suddenly disappearing beneath the water. These are flying-fish enjoying an air-bath, either in frolic or in fear; pursued possibly by some dreaded enemy in the sea, which they are trying to escape.

It is interesting to remain on deck at night and watch the heavens as we glide through the phosphorescent sea. Is it possible that the moon, whose light renders objects so plain that one can see to read small print, shines solely by borrowed light? We know it to be so, and also that Venus, Mars, and perhaps Jupiter and Saturn shine in a similar manner with light reflected from the sun. It is interesting to adjust the telescope, and bring the starry system nearer to the vision. If we direct our gaze upon a planet, we find its disk or face sharply defined; change the direction, and let the object-glass rest upon a star, and we have only a point of light more or less brilliant. The glass reveals to us the fact that the "star-dust" which we call the Milky Way is an accumulation of innumerable single stars. Sweeping the blue expanse with the telescope, we find some stars are golden, some green, others purple, many silvery white, and some are twins. Our use of the words "first and second magnitude" relates mainly to distance. It is most likely only a question of distance which regulates our vision or capacity for seeing, and which makes these "lamps of the sky" look larger or smaller to us.

When the lonely lighthouse which marks Cape Maysi, at the eastern point of Cuba, comes into view on the starboard bow, the dim form of the mountains of Hayti are visible on the opposite horizon. A subterranean connection is believed to exist between the mountain ranges of the two islands. We are now running through the Windward Passage, as it is called; by which one branch of the Gulf Stream finds its way northward. The Gulf Stream! Who can explain satisfactorily its ceaseless current? What keeps its tepid waters, in a course of thousands of miles, from mingling with the rest of the sea? And finally whence does it come? Maury, the great nautical authority, says the Gulf of Mexico is its fountain, and its mouth is the Arctic Sea. The maps make the eastern shore of Cuba terminate as sharp as a needle's point, but it proves to be very blunt in reality, where it forms one side of the gateway to the Caribbean Sea, and where the irregular coast line runs due north and south for the distance of many leagues.

The nights are mostly clear, soft, and lovely in this region. As we double Cape Maysi, and the ship is headed westward, the Southern Cross and the North Star blaze in the opposite horizons at the same time, the constellation on our port side (left-hand), and the North Star on the starboard side. Each day at noon the captain and his officers determine the exact position of the ship by "taking the sun," as it is termed. When the sun reaches the meridian, that is, the point directly overhead, the exact moment is indicated by the nautical instrument known as a quadrant, adjusted to the eye of the observer. The figures marked on the quadrant give the latitude of the ship at the moment of meridian. The ship's time is then made to correspond, – that is to say, it must indicate twelve o'clock noon, – after which it is compared with an exact timepiece called a chronometer, which keeps Greenwich (English) time, and the difference enables the observer to determine the longitude. As fifteen miles are allowed to the minute, there will be nine hundred miles to the hour. Thus, by means of the chronometer and the quadrant, the sailing-master is enabled to designate his exact situation upon the ocean chart.

Soon after passing the remarkably sheltered port of Guantanamo, which was for nearly a century the most notorious piratical rendezvous in the West Indies, the famous castle of Santiago is seen. It is called Moro Castle, but it is older than the better-known Moro of Havana, by nearly a hundred years. This antique, yellow, Moorish-looking stronghold, which modern gunnery would destroy in ten minutes or less, is picturesque to the last degree, with its crumbling, honey-combed battlements, and queer little flanking towers. It is built upon the face of a lofty, dun-colored rock, upon whose precipitous side the fortification is terraced. Its position is just at the entrance of the narrow river leading to the city, six or eight miles away, so that in passing up the channel one can speak from the ship's deck to any one who might be standing on the outer battlement of the Moro.

The winding channel which leads from the sea to the harbor passes through low hills and broad meadows covered with rank verdure, cocoanut groves, and fishing hamlets. Thrifty palms and intensely green bananas line the way, with here and there upon the pleasant banks a charming country-house in the midst of a garden fragrant with flowers. So close is the shore all the while that one seems to be navigating upon the land, gliding among trees and over greensward rather than upon blue water. Steaming slowly up the Santiago River, we presently pass a sharp angle of the hills, leading into a broad sheltered bay, upon whose banks stands the rambling old city of Santiago de Cuba, built on a hillside like Tangier, in Africa, and it is almost as Oriental as the capital of Morocco. The first and most conspicuous objects to meet the eye are the twin towers of the ancient cathedral, which have withstood so many earthquakes.