The Christian | Page 8

and then the passengers were on
deck, looking like sour buttermilk spilt out of the churn.
"What a glorious sight! The ships, the docks, the towers, the town! I
couldn't breathe for excitement until we got up to the landing-stage. Mr.
Storm put me into a cab, and for the sake of experience I insisted on
paying my own way. Of course he tried to trick me, but a woman's a
woman for a' that. As we drove up to Lime Street station there befell--a
porter. He carried my big trunk on his head (like a mushroom), and
when I bought my ticket he took me to the train while Mr. Storm went
for a newspaper. Being such a stranger, he was very kind, so I flung the
responsibility on Providence and gave him sixpence.
"There were two old ladies in the carriage beside ourselves, and the
train we travelled by was an express. It was perfectly delightful, and for
all the world like plunging into a stiff sou'wester off the rocks at
Contrary. But the first part of the journey was terrible. That tunnel
nearly made me shriek. It was a misty day too at Liverpool, and all the

way to Edge Hill they let off signals with a noise like battering-rams.
My nerves were on the rack; so taking advantage of the darkness of the
carriage, I began to sing. That calmed me, but it nearly drove the old
ladies out of their wits. They screamed if I didn't; and just as I was
summoning the Almighty to attend to me a little in the middle of that
inferno, out we came as innocent as a baby. There was another of these
places just before getting into London. I suppose they are purgatories
through which you have to pass to get to these wonderful cities. Only if
I had been consulted in the making of the Litany ('from sudden death,
good Lord, deliver us') I should have made an exception for people in
tunnels.
"You never knew what an absolute ninny Glory is! I was burning with
such impatience to see London that when we came near it I couldn't see
anything for water under the brain. Approaching a great and mighty
city for the first time must be like going into the presence of majesty.
Only Heaven save me from such palpitation the day I become
songstress to the Queen!
"Mercy! what a roar and boom--a deep murmur as of ten hundred
million million moths humming away on a still evening in autumn! On
a nearer view it is more like a Tower-of-Babel concern, with its click
and clatter. The explosion of voices, the confused clamour, the dreadful
disorder--cars, wagons, omnibuses--it makes you feel religious and
rather cold down the back. What a needle in a haystack a poor girl must
be here if there is nobody above to keep track of her!
"Tell Aunt Rachel they are wearing another kind of bonnet in
London--more pokey in front--and say if I see the Queen I'll be sure to
tell her all about it.
"We didn't get to the hospital until nine, so I've not seen much of it yet.
The housekeeper gave me tea and told me I might go over the house, as
I wouldn't be wanted to begin duty before morning. So for an hour I
went from ward to ward like a female Wandering Jew. Such silence!
I'm afraid this hospital nursing is going to be a lockjaw business. And
now I'm going to bed--well, not homesick, you know, but just 'longing
a lil bit for all.' To-morrow morning I'll waken up to new sounds and

sights, and when I draw my blind I'll see the streets where the cars are
forever running and rattling. Then I'll think of Glenfaba and the birds
singing and rejoicing.
"Dispense my love throughout the island. Say that I love everybody just
the same now I'm a London lady as when I was a mere provincial girl,
and that when I'm a wonderful woman, and have brought the eyes of
England upon me, I'll come back and make amends. I can hear what
grandfather is saying: 'Gough bless me, what a girl, though!' Glory.
"P. S.--I've not said much about Mr. Storm. He left me at the door of
the hospital and went on to the house of his vicar, for that is where he is
to lodge, you know. On the way up I expended much beautiful poetry
upon him on the subject of love. The old girlies having dozed off, I
chanced to ask him if he liked to talk of it, but he said no, it was a
profanation. Love was too sacred, it was a kind of religion. Sometimes
it came unawares, sometimes it smouldered like