My Wonderful Year | Page 4

could have become seasick on this crossing if I had permitted myself to do so, but I refused to be defeated by the English channel when I had mastered the Atlantic. Arriving at New Haven there was only one more lap of the journey, the train ride to London.
Notwithstanding the fact that England is our mother country, one realizes immediately that the customs, habits, and points-of-view of the people are different. The Englishman likes seclusion and this is noticed on the trains in England. The passengers, six or eight in number, are enclosed in compartments in double seats, facing one another with the aisle or corridor on the outside of the compartment. There is no car designated as a smoker, but the compartments are labeled "Smoking" or "No Smoking." The ventilation of the compartment is left to the discretion of the occupants, and before a change is made by an occupant he consults all the other persons in the compartment. One buys his railroad ticket for first, second, or third class. I learned that since the World War second class has been almost completely abolished, most persons purchasing tickets for third class. On the English train there is no news-agent passing back and forth, no restless passengers pacing up and down the aisle for water as there is no drinking fountain. Neither is there a porter or conductor calling every station in an unintelligible manner as each passenger is expected to know where he is going and the time of his arrival; moreover he can read the name of the station in large letters on the station platform before the train stops. There are no separate restrooms for men and women. The conductor is called the ticket inspector and one's ticket may be called for in one of three ways. It may be called for and collected as one boards the train, or when one arrives at his destination, or while enroute. Only passengers are allowed to board the train and in many places one must buy a ticket, usually costing five or ten cents in order to go down to the train platform. One may reserve his seat on the train by paying a shilling or quarter and thus be assigned to his car, compartment, and seat. The dining car is not the diner, but the restaurant car. The dining steward comes around and gets the orders for the meal in advance, assigning you a seat for the first, second, or third call as you may wish. Of course tea is served at four o'clock and it may be taken in the restaurant car or in your compartment.
It was with a sigh of relief and with a tinge of disappointment that I arrived at Victoria Station. London has no imposing union station, but seven smaller stations located in the various boroughs of the city. At some time during my stay I made a trip from all seven stations: Victoria, Paddington, King's Cross, St. Pancras, Euston, Charing Cross, and Waterloo. At Victoria I was again exposed to the routine of the customs, but this was no ordeal as the luggage was placed alphabetically on the station platform and it was only necessary to take a custom officer to your initial and help him ferret out your luggage. With trembling hands I unlocked my trunk and bags and watched the officer inspect my belongings. I did not have to pay any tax. At last I was ready to seek College Hall, my home during my year in London.
I made the mistake of calling for a red cap, but I learned it was a porter that I wished, but these porters have not the art of carrying several pieces of luggage at once. There is not the rush of eager cab drivers at the station as there is only the one government licensed taxicab company, and the drivers are compelled to take their turns on the stand. The cabs are on the limousine type, only four persons can be accommodated, two on the back seat and two on the small seats facing the back seat passengers. The cabs are built rather high. To my great surprise the taxicab carried my hand-luggage, trunk, and all. The trunk is either placed on the top of the cab, which is flat and has a rail around it, or it is strapped on the floor of the driver's compartment. If you are a backseat driver, which I am, it is quite a temptation to not ask the driver to move from the left side of the street to the right, but I learned in time that traffic in England is on the left side of the street. I was continually dodging traffic during my stay in England, dodging on the right from habit and on the