My Trip Around the World August, 1895-May, 1896

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Title: My Trip Around the World

August, 1895-May, 1896

Author: Eleonora Hunt

Release Date: July 4, 2010 [EBook #33079]

Language: English

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My Trip Around the World

BY

ELEONORA HUNT

AUGUST, 1895—MAY, 1896

PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR

CHICAGO

1902

DEDICATED TO MY

GRANDSONS

John and Hunt Wentworth

Introduction.

I must acknowledge that I hesitate to place this manuscript in print. It has been a struggle for me in my declining days, with impaired health and imperfect vision; but my desire is that my grandsons, John and Hunt Wentworth, to whom I dedicate this book, may glean from its leaves some knowledge and, perhaps, it may create a desire to take the same trip some day, having first gained for themselves a storehouse of knowledge with which they may be enabled to see the Orient and other foreign lands with a greater degree of appreciation. By that time, the Problems of the Far East may have been solved, and light divine will shine in the dark places.

If a few copies find their way into the hands of friends, those who know me well will have charity, as they know the difficulties I have had to surmount in accomplishing the work.

E. H.

July 31, 1902.

Wm. Johnston Printing Company

Chicago

My Trip Around the World

Chicago, August 19, 1895.

Have you ever had a desire so great that it became a controlling influence, and when that desire or wish was gratified and that day dream became a reality to feel an overwhelming sadness—a heart failure? If so, you can realize how on August 19, 1895, at 6:30 p. m., I left Chicago with a heavy heart for a voyage around the world in company with my brother, his wife and son, the latter just relieved from college life.

We arrived in St. Paul in time for breakfast, the train already made up that was to convey us on the Canadian Pacific Railroad to Vancouver, B. C.

Our attention was at once directed to the immense wheat fields of Minnesota and villages few and far between. Through the endless prairies of the Dakotas, with no signs of vegetation along the railway, and but little animal life. A few Indians visit the station on the arrival of trains; some to barter, others—blind or crippled—to beg. The third day out, at 1:30 p. m., we reached the Glaciers, where we remained twenty-four hours. Through Assinniboin, north of western Dakota, we had noticed deep furrowed trails of the buffalo crossing the road from north to south. Now and then, their bones were seen in white patches on the prairies, and at the stations tons were ready for shipment east to make tooth-brush handles and bone dust for soda fountains, etc. We had been advised to stop at the Glaciers instead of Banff, perhaps by some traveler who felt the inconvenience of getting up at three o'clock in the morning to take the train. We regretted it, however, when we were told that the hotel is nestled among the mountains rising over 5,000 feet above it, all of them snow capped and far down the sides of the deep gorges was still seen the same white vestment. The Glacier House, where we spent the night, is like a Swiss chalet in architecture. To sit upon its piazza and gaze on the lofty mountain peaks is a sublime sight. To watch the sun climbing its sides, rose-tinting the snows which lie like a mantle over their height, is not soon forgotten; and to listen to the mighty roar of the foaming cataract, which tumbles over the precipitous foothills, one can but exclaim: Almighty One, how great are thy works! The path leading through the forest to the glacier is most picturesque, but not easily trodden. The constant fear of encountering a wolf or bear, together with the sight of the great mountain of ice, soon cools one's ardor, and we were content to retrace our steps and to gather after dinner around an old-fashioned stove in the exchange of the Inn with a score of travelers and listen to the stories of their adventures and have for an object lesson skins of the grizzlies but lately captured, which had not a soporific effect, but less terrific than meeting their majesties face to face.

The scenery from the Glacier House to Vancouver, through the Selkirk Mountains is overpowering; around countless curves, over lofty trestles and ragged edges of fearful precipices the line of cars pursues its way. The stupendous heights are at times absolutely shrouded in smoke; the climb of twenty-seven hundred feet in thirty miles around the mountain shelves and through vast snow sheds (most expensive in their construction), to emerge again into the light for a glance down the gorges into the glaciers, over and above to the lofty summits, is all the imagination can picture, and the traveler feels like a mighty atom in the midst thereof.

On the fifth day out from home we arrived in the city of Vancouver. Our vessel, the Empress of Japan, lay at anchor very near the wharf, and after securing our cabins and seats at the table we returned to the Hotel Vancouver, where we remained from Saturday till Monday morning. Owing to a delayed train, we did not sail before midnight. We had forty-seven out-going missionaries, some returning from a vacation granted once in seven years, others were about to enter on untried duties. The Rev. S. F. J. Schereschewsky, wife and daughter, were among the number. He was a paralytic—the stroke was superinduced by a sunstroke in China, where he had labored heroically in a translation of the Bible into the Chinese language. He was taken to Paris where, under Charcot's care, he recovered sufficiently to return to Cambridge, Mass., where his work was completed ready for publication. This he desired to have done in Shanghai. We were told his translation would excel all others that have ever been made.

At 10 o'clock each day, during the voyage of fourteen days the missionaries would gather together for a short service in the salon, where admittance was free to all. The ship averaged 370 miles a day; a few of the passengers found the rocking in the cradle of the deep rather disagreeable, but the majority of them kept their chairs and were well repaid, for the air was a tonic too good to be missed. The ship was well disciplined, the table inviting, the service entirely Chinese—whose sense of decorum was most marked.

On Sunday evening, the thirteenth day out, we expected to anchor at Yokohama, but a fearful wind arose; the captain left his seat at the dinner table in haste and ordered the ship's course changed. We were skirting a terrific typhoon. We were in sight of land, but instead of reaching it at seven-thirty in the evening we did not accomplish it until 10 o'clock Monday morning. The steamer Belgic was stranded that night forty-three miles from Yokohama. The captain, who had for forty years made successful trips, was destined to see his vessel wrecked; no lives were lost but the rebuke he received cost him the loss of his position—and much greater the loss of reason. He was taken to a madhouse.

The 9th of September found us in the hands of our guide, who had been engaged to meet us on board the vessel on our arrival. Jinrikishas were in waiting, we rode to the custom house and from there to the Hotel Grand, along the Bund skirting the water's edge. The sun shone brilliantly, and all Nature seemed to bid us welcome. The hotel site is unequaled; the gentle sea breezes seem to follow us; Englishmen and Americans crowded the verandas, and apparently gave us a warm welcome. Long lines of jinrikishas formed a barrier between the waters of Yeddo Bay and the hotel, each in charge of a coolie, whose dress (if any) shocked us; but to this nude condition we soon became oblivious.

A ride along the shore of the Mississippi Bay, and through the country where rice and millet grow abundantly, in a jinrikisha with a good natured coolie is a delight. The Bungalow of the native all exposed to view is a sample of neatness, while the children, most gentle with each other, play in numbers around the home.

On this drive and but a short distance from Yokohama is the English concession, homes hidden almost from view by high walls and dense foliage. In that land of sunshine, with the cool breeze from the sea, the constant influx of European and American travelers, keeping one in touch with the world and with the simplicity of the surroundings, one can imagine a tranquilizing life and a happy coterie.

The streets of Yokohama are narrow, the houses of one, sometimes two stories, all on line with the sidewalk and with apparently no privacy. The gutters are flushed with water, which seems to be used for all purposes, even to the bathing of children. The absence of horses gives ample room for the masses of men, women and children who throng the streets. No haste is manifested, save when a line of jinrikishas of heavily freighted coolies appear, and then with perfect good nature the right of way is given. No menace, no insults are heard. The perennial smile of women and the submission of the men is enough to conquer all antagonism to foreigners, if any exists. Nevertheless, a guide is indispensable to protect against intrusive curiosity, for wherever you stop, there the gaping crowd surrounds you.

The shopping fever seems to manifest itself almost immediately on arrival at Yokohama; in fact, I heard of no epidemic so fatal to visitors. Your guide, who has an eye to the commission he will receive on all your purchases, gives you his advice as to where you shall buy—to his best advantage. As truthfulness is not a Japanese virtue, it is well to consult your fellow traveler and to use your own judgment as to quality. Each city of Japan seems to have its specialty; for instance: We found the handsomest kimonas, the finest cloisonais in Yokohama: the best carving in ivory in Tokio.

As for a gentleman's outfit it would be advisable to go to Yokohama with an empty trunk, for good materials and perfect fit are guaranteed for marvelously low prices. There your duck suits, Pongees and silk underwear for the tropics are laid in with great satisfaction. The adaptation in imitation is most striking. A waist of a dress given the tailor will be so closely copied in fit and style and delivered in so brief a space of time that it makes you fairly sigh when you think of the waste of time and mistakes that our own modistes often subject us to, but there is no originality displayed by the Japanese.

The native woman is always clothed; the unmarried, known by the style of hair dressing, are neat and gayly attired in their kimonas and bright sashes, are attractive, but the absolute negligence of the mothers is revolting. The hair if not in strings, is most loosely bound up; no more pomade and bows; their teeth blackened, and their bosoms so exposed that their elongated condition becomes