The copper country evening news. [volume] (Calumet, Mich.) 18??-1907, 1898-07-02

American schoolmarms when at home.
forgetting all discipline and decorum,
were as eagerly expectant and as care
lessly happy as was little Dick Whit.
tington himself when he tramped over
the same old road to London town with
his precious cat.
What JOY is just the memory of
that first afternoons spin Liverpool
with her busy docks and tall spires, Law
forgotten behind US, as with hearts free
from care and lungs filed with the fresh
keen air, as cool and invigorating as
early spring, we flew lightly along on
our good steeds Of metal, charmed with
the ever changing beauty Of as perfect
road as ever delighted the eye and
heart Of a cyclist
Through breaks in the blossominQ
hawthorn hedge we caught alluring
CLEANS Of the Mersey, beyond the fresh
green meadows and well titled fields.
or discovered an Ivy covered chapel and
Its quaint old burying ground at some
unexpected turn Of the road, whose pic.
turesqueness and sad decay bat accen.
tuated the glowing beauty Of the sunny
hills OF Wales, far away on the horizon,
or the hustle and life Of one Of the tiny
hamlets baslIing in the sunshine.
1t seemed like page Of romance to
see some little highborn maiden come
riding out On her snow white pony
through the great gates Of one of the
old manor houses, held open by a gor
geous lackey for the Lady Maud TO
pass, while another servant, @ groom
on a prancing black charger, deferen.
tally saluted her small ladyship and
waited until the little pony had taken
the lead, that he might follow at re-
spectful distance Past centuries were
written on everything before our de-
lighted eyes; from the grand old trees
to the English wild flowers growing in
hooks and crannies of the moldering
wall OF the ruined castle: from the
queer little cottages with their matched |
roofs OF straw to the sights and sounds
OF the famous cathedral towns and the
song Of the happy young milkmaid
driving home the cows-all spoke of the
old England Of poem and story. the
same "merrie England" as in the DAYS
OF good Queen Bess.
What unique pleasure it was to
wander through the old town Of Rugby
and speak Of Tom Brown, while almost
expecting 70 recognize him in one of
the many little urchins, who no doubt
have made him their hero. as he once
was oursl What joy TO poke our curl
Gus noses into Anne Hathaway's most
secret cupboard and to drink at the
very little brook where Shakespeare's
own hand had often filled the cup, to
wander through the church at Stratford
and to look upon the famous bed of the
bard, and then 10 sit for hours
upon the low wall of the churchyard.
nnder the shade OF the old elms, talking
Oh hlm-and OF home-with the waters
OF the Avon singing softly at our feetl
Who blames US for preferring the
charm OF little wayside hostelry 10 the
grandest accommodations to be found
&c the most famous hotels Of London?
What woman will wonder that we girls
'ound JOY in the low ceilings and nm.
wen stone paved floors of the dilapidat.
"a Old coaching inns? What delight
{ was TO inspect those old rooms. with
heir little chintz curtained easement
and TO sleep in century old
our posters that recalled grim tales of
iaunted chambers with their musty
We gave little care to the time worn
lights which every traveller sees from
sense OF duty, but took delight In ev.
ry turn of the old hoary highways over
which our good wheels carries us and
cit as if Queen Elizabeth and all her
rain might at any moment appear be.
pre- our eyes ON the old road TO Coyen.
" over which she had 80 often passed,
) we Dode IN the cleaning under the
rching Dughs Of the boary monarohs
no still guard the way.
Who can hope to describe all the
range sights and sounds Of those mem
able days ON English highways or
'e bhssful dreams and heavenly rest ,,
hich visited us each uiQht when snug. !