قراءة كتاب Odd Bits of Travel with Brush and Camera

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Odd Bits of Travel with Brush and Camera

Odd Bits of Travel with Brush and Camera

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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valuable addition to the collection made by the ready camera. The various changes of expression are worth studying, for where “luxuriant joy and pleasure in excess” appear at one moment, the next may behold an angry frown, and a struggle as if for life amid the surging tide of humanity.

“Now one’s the better—then the other best

Both tugging to be victor, breast to breast

Yet neither conqueror, or is conquered.”

Taking a small steamer which plies between Liverpool and New Brighton, one may for a few cents, after a half hour’s ride, land at an attractive and much frequented watering-place upon the bank of the Mersey River, opposite Liverpool. This resort is the pleasure-ground of the middle classes, and is well worth a visit. Upon a holiday many thousands flock to its shores which remind one of Vanity Fair, where numerous phases and conditions of life are represented. Here is the indefatigable and annoying travelling photographer with his “Four for a shilling. Take you in two minutes. Ladies and gentlemen, step in and see the finest pictures to be found in this country. Bridal groups a specialty.”

“Amongst these are two typical products of the British Isles.”   (See page 23.)

 

Here are games of all kinds, pony and donkey riding, and all the shows to be found at the popular seashore resort. The “merry-go-round” is in full swing, with a crowd of spectators, among them many wistful children, watching the prancing camels and gaily caparisoned horses. The music here is quite inspiring, and the numerous small boys and maidens who lack the necessary pennies for this ravishing entertainment gaze at their more fortunate companions with woe-begone countenances. Strains less animated, but more melodious attract us to a fine dancing hall, where the older lads and lasses are tripping about in a lively manner. The light dresses, colored ribbons and happy faces make a pretty picture. Along the beach are beautiful views, worthy of a master hand, while out in the country the typical English houses with their massive thatched roofs and lovely surroundings of trees, lawns and gardens fair, cannot fail to captivate the artist’s eyes.

A stroll through the streets and byways of Liverpool at night is a sad but interesting experience. Alas for the misery and crime and want that exist in all the great cities! Girls, young and pretty, but no longer innocent, may be seen in scores in every locality: children with poverty and depravity written on their faces boldly address one at the street corners: men and women, with sharp, pinched features and misery and despair in their voices, beseech one for alms, or with fierce cunning lie in wait for the unwary. Sick at heart and with inexpressible pity we wend our way from one point to another. Vice, crime, want, suffering meet our eyes on every side: and the old hopeless cry: Why must these things be? rises up again in our souls. Through the whole night long upon the curb stones, at the corners, lounging against the windows and doors of closed houses or shops, this lower stratum of life appears with its atmosphere of dusky gloom. When the daylight dawns upon the city, it seems to shrivel up and shrink into the mouths of the yawning black cellars and foul alleys whose very breath is a deadly poison. There are dozens of taverns scattered about the city, and within these rooms or stalls are partitioned off where sin may be screened from public view, for even those dyed deepest in crime sometimes fall so low that they dare not carry on their nefarious operations in the face of their everyday companions. These dens are countenanced by the authorities, and one may find within them criminals of every grade who prey upon each other for their sustenance: but in the long run, it is the proprietor who comes out with a substantial bank account.

Beggars, peddlers, musicians, singers of both sexes, and itinerant vendors of all kinds jostle each other in these haunts of sin, and great caution should be exercised in visiting them, for in certain localities, crimes of the most brutal character are of daily, I might say hourly occurrence. I would suggest that the tourist should at such times depend for safety upon the company of a first-class detective.

Let praise be given where it is due. The Salvationists of Europe have by their indefatigable labors reclaimed thousands of these men and women from their lives of sin and misery. You will meet these untiring workers everywhere, exhorting, praying, pleading with fallen humanity. These noble bands of Christians enter fearlessly the most loathsome hovels, and, wrestling with filth and disease, in many cases come off victorious. They have been known to wash the clothing and cleanse the houses of fever-stricken families, and supply wholesome food and care for helpless infants, defied at every step by a drunken son or father. They fear nothing, knowing that their cause is God’s cause, and that in the end Almighty Goodness shall win an eternal conquest.

It is customary throughout England to close all the saloons on Sundays until noon, after which time they open their doors, and remain open till midnight as upon week-days.

Of the many cities whose haunts I have visited at night, I think that without exception, unless it be London, Liverpool leads in depravity and vice.

The country from Liverpool to Chester abounds in attractive scenery, local in character and possessing the additional charm of novelty for the American tourist. Along the route are scattered a number of old taverns, such as “The Horn,” “The Green Tree,” and similar names. Dismounting from bicycle or trap, the traveller who enters one of these ancient landmarks will find everything in “apple pie order”: the floor clean and shining like a bright new dollar just launched from the mint. He will sit at a table within one of the three stalls on either side of the little room, and the landlord’s wife will bring him a bumper of “good auld Al,” the effect of which will prove lasting and beneficial, if it corresponds with my experience.

“This is a fine field for the student of human nature.”   (See page 24.)

 

Chester, oldest of English cities, is full of quaint residences and other ancient buildings. The old wall which surrounds the town is the only one in Great Britain which has been preserved entire. It forms a continuous ring, although in some places the earth has climbed so far above its base, that it appears no higher than a terrace. Its rugged outer parapet is still complete, and the wide flagging forms a delightful promenade, with a fine view of the surrounding country. The earliest date which we find upon the wall is A.

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