The Newberry herald and news. (Newberry, S.C.) 1884-1903, 1885-06-18

pilgrimage to nowhere, promised a certain
friend of mine, in literary Bohemia, to keep
notes Of my adventures, with ayiew to fu-
cure publication, illustrated by my own bril-
liant sketches. Z fear the promise was
rash one-frstly, because am constitution
a1ly lazy end averse to literary e1erdon; and,
secondly. because have, as yet, met with no
adventures worth writing about. Not that !
have altogether lost my first enthusiasm for
the idea. There would be novelty In the
title. at any rate, Cruises in Caravan oy
Charles Brinkley, with Illustrations by the
author: Photographic frontispiece, the Cara
van. with Tim as large as life, srairdng sell
consciously in delight at having his pictur'
taken. NV friend B has promised to find
me publisher, if viii only perseTe-e.
Well. we shall see. # the book does not
progress it Will be entirely my own fault; for
have any amount Of time on my hands.
Paint as hard as MAJ all day, have al-
ways the long evenings, when l must either
write, read or do nothing.
$50 am beginning this evening, exactly q
fortnight after my first start from Chester. l
purchased the caravan there from morose
Individual, with one eye, who had it built
with a view to the exhibition of a Wild Man
Of Patagonia: but said Wild Man having
taken it into his head to return to County
Cork. where he was born, and the morose n.
diyidual havingno definite idea Of NOVELETTE,
take his place, the caravan came into the
market. Having secured this travelling
palace, duly furnished with window-blinds,
piece Of carpet, chair-bedstead, table, a
stove, cooking utensils, not to speak of my
own artistic paraphernalia, sent over to
Muirany, County Mayo, for my old servant,
Tm-na-C Chalnig, or Tim o the Ferry-other-
wise Tim Linney; and with his assistance,
when he arrived, I purchased a strong mare mare
at Chester Fair. All these rreliminaries
being settled, we started one fins morning
soon after daybreak, duly bound fer expIora.
tions along the macadanized highways and
byways of North Wales.
seI ann pleased to say that Til after he
had recovered the first shock Of seeipg peri
patetic dwelling house, took to tine idea won
derfu1iy. Sure it's just lkethe ou!d cahinat
home he averred, sbarr1n' the wheels, and
the windies, and the chimleN and the baste TO
pull it along;s and think the resemblance
wouE nave been complete 10 his eyes II there
US3o OUlY D6aH UHOO1 Itl4SO HA9S0 -
rily behind the back door. As for myself, 1
took to the nomad life as naturally as II 4
had never in my life been in a civilized haol-
tation. To be able to go where one pleased:
to dawdle as one pleases, to stop and steep
where one pleased, was certainly new sen
sation. My friends, observing my sluggish
ways, had often compared me to thaJ inter
esting creature, the snail; now the resem-
blance was complete, for Twas a snail indeed,
with my house comfortably fixed upon my
shoulders, crawling TRANQUILITY along.
ssOf course, the caravan has its inconyen1-
ences. Inside, to quote the elegant sinlie OF
our progenitors, there is scarcely room enough
to swing cat in; and when my bed is made,
end Tins hammock is swung just inside the
door, the place forms the tiniest OF sleeping
chambers. Then our cooking arrangements
are primitive, and, as Tim has no idea what
ever In the culinary art, beyond being able 20
boil potatoes in their skins and make very
doubtful ssttrabout, there is certain want
Of variety in our repasts. .s5.s
Besides the inconyenienceS winch hAye
mentioned, but which were, perhaps, harny
worth chrouicling, the caravan has socla1
drawbacks, more particularly embarrassing
to a modest man Like myself. its confusing,
for example, on entering a town, or good
sized village, to be surrounded by the en1re
juvenile population, who cheer Us voclferousiy,
under the impression that we constitute a
show and afterward, on ascertaining their
mistake, pursue us with opprobrious Jeers;
and it is distressing to remark that our mode
of life. instead of inviting confidence, causes Us
to be regarded with suspicion by the vicar OF
the parish and the local policemen. we are
exposed, moreover, to ebullitions OF bucohc
humor, which have taken the form OF horse
play on more than one occasion. lin has
had several fights with the Welsh peasantry,
and has generally come OFF victorious, though
ON one occasion he would have been over
powered by numbers if I had not gone, to hls
assistance. Generally speaking, nothing VIII
remove from the rural population an idea
that the caravan forms an exhibition Of some
sort. When air1y alight and stroll through
village, sketchbook in hand, have nya-
riably at my heels q long attendant Train OF
all ages, obviously under the impression that
I am looking for assitable pitch, and am
going to perform.
$40 avoid these and sinllla inconvenience,
we generally halt for the night IN some SCI
cIuded spot-some roadside nook OF outlying
common. But there IS fatal attraction IN
the caravan; it seems to draw spectators, as
it were, out Of the very bowels Of the earth.
No matter how desolate the place we have
chosen, we have scarcely made ourselves
comfortable when an audience gathers, and
stragglers drop in, amazed and open-mouuhed
found it irksome at first to paint ID the open
air, with a gazing crowd at my back making
audible comments on my work as 1t pro-
gressed; but soon got used to it, and, hay
ing discovered certain good subjects here
and there among my visitors, take the pub
icity now as matter ct course. Even when
busy inside am never astonished to see
strange noses fattened against the windows
strange faces pceping in at the door. The
human temperament accrstons itself to any
thing.
"i begin this record in the Island of Angle
sea. where we have arrived after our fort
nights wanderings in the more mountainous
districts Of the mainland. Anglesea, am In
formed, IS chiefly famous for its pigs and
its wild ducks. So far as have yetexplored
it I find it flet and desolate enough; but l
have been educated in Irish landscapes, and
don't object to flatnessNwhen combined vita
desolation. 7 ike these dreary meadows,
these bleak stretches Of melancholy moor
land, these Wild lakes and lagoons.
cat the present moment am encanped In
a spot where, in all probability, I shall re
main for days. Icame upon it quite by &C
cident about midday yesterday, when en- my
way to the market town Of Pencroes; OF,
rather, when I imagined that lives going
thither, while had, in reality, after hesitat-
ing at three crossroads, taken the road which
led in exactly the opposite direction. The
way was desolate and dieary beyond meas
ure-stretches of morsss and moocland on
every side, occasional, = rising into heathery
knolls or hillocks, or strewed with huge
pieces Of stones like the moors Of Cornwall
Presently the open moorland ended,
and we entered region Of sandy
hillccks, spa-sely ornameated here and
there with long, harsh grass. f one
could imagine the waves Of the ocean, at
some moment OF wild agitation, suddenly
frozen to stiffness, and returning intact thess
tenpessuous forms, it would give some idea
Of the hllocEs ] am describing. They rose on
every side Of the road, completely shutting
J out the view, and their pale, hvid yellow
ness, scarcely relieved with e glimpse OF
ereenness, was wearisene and lonely IN the
extreme. AS we advanced among them, the