The Rudder Grangers In England
It was mainly due to Pomona that we went to Europe at all. For years Euphemia and I had been anxious to visit the enchanted lands on the other side of the Atlantic, but the obstacles had always been very great, and the matter had been indefinitely postponed. Pomona and Jonas were still living with us, and their little girl was about two years old. Pomona continued to read a great deal, but her husband's influence had diverted her mind toward works of history and travel, and these she devoured with eager interest. But she had not given up her old fancy for romance. Nearly everything she read was mingled in her mind with Middle Age legends and tales of strange adventure. Euphemia's frequent reference to a trip to Europe had fired Pomona's mind, and she was now more wildly anxious for the journey than any of us. She believed that it would entirely free Jonas from the chills and fever that still seemed to permeate his being. And besides this, what unutterable joy to tread the sounding pavements of those old castles of which she had so often read! Pomona further perceived that my mental and physical systems required the rest and change of scene which could be given only by a trip to Europe. When this impression had been produced upon Euphemia's mind, the matter, to all intents and purposes, was settled. A tenant, who I suspect was discovered and urged forward by the indefatigable Pomona, made an application for a year's lease of our house and farm. In a business view I found I could make the journey profitable, and there seemed to be no reason why we should not go, and go now.
It appeared to be accepted as a foregone conclusion by Euphemia and Pomona that the latter, with her husband and child, should accompany us; but of this I could not, at first, see the propriety.
"We shall not want servants on a trip like that," I said; "and although I like Jonas and Pomona very much, they are not exactly the people I should prefer as travelling companions."
"If you think you are going to leave Pomona behind," said Euphemia, "you are vastly mistaken. Oceans and continents are free to her, and she will follow us at a distance if we don't let her go with us. She was quite content not to go with us to Florida, but she is just one tingle from head to foot to go to Europe. We have talked the whole thing over, and I know that she will be of the greatest possible use and comfort to me in ever so many ways; and Jonas will be needed to take care of the baby. Jonas has money, and they will pay a great part of their own expenses, and will not cost us much, and you needn't be afraid that Pomona will make us ashamed of ourselves, if we happen to be talking to the Dean of Westminster or the Archbishop of Canterbury, by pushing herself into the conversation."
"Indeed," said I, "if we ever happen to be inveigled into a confab with those dignitaries, I hope Pomona will come to the front and take my place."
The only person not entirely satisfied with the proposed journey was Jonas.
"I don't like trapsin' round," said he, "from place to place, and never did. If I could go to some one spot and stay there with the child, while the rest of you made trips, I'd be satisfied, but I don't like keepin' on the steady go."
This plan was duly considered, and the suitability of certain points was discussed. London was not believed sufficiently accessible for frequent return trips; Paris could scarcely be called very central; Naples would not be suitable at all times of the year, and Cairo was a little too far eastward. A number of minor places were suggested, but Jonas announced that he had thought of a capital location, and being eagerly asked to name it, he mentioned Newark, New Jersey.
"I'd feel at home there," he said, "and it's about as central as any place, when you come to look on the map of the world."
But he was not allowed to remain in his beloved New Jersey, and we took him with us to Europe.
We did not, like the rest of the passengers on the steamer, go directly from Liverpool to London, but stopped for a couple of days in the quaint old town of Chester. "If we don't see it now," said Euphemia, "we never shall see it. When we once start back we shall be raving distracted to get home, and I wouldn't miss Chester for anything."
"There is an old wall there," said the enthusiastic Pomona to her husband, "built by Julius Caesar before the Romans became Catholics, that you kin walk on all round the town; an' a tower on it which the king of England stood on to see his army defeated, though of course it wasn't put up for that purpose; besides, more old-timenesses which the book tells of than we can see in a week."
"I hope," said Jonas, wearily shifting the child from one arm to the other, "that there'll be some good place there to sit down."
When we reached Chester, we went directly to the inn called "The Gentle Boar," which was selected by Euphemia entirely on account of its name, and we found it truly a quaint and cosey little house. Everything was early English and delightful. The coffee-rooms, the bar-maids, the