The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1900-03-14
A DAY AT SEA.

The JOURNAL received this morning the
following interesting letter from Rev. j.
Edward Wright, who is now travelling in
the West indies for his health:
Sunday, February %, 1900. Sailed from
New York at noon on Saturday. ON Steam
or Adirondack" for Kingston, Jamaica;
course nearly due south, head winds and
lowry. In the evening lightning, in the
night increased breeze, and snow and
sleet; the vessel rol ing uneasily, and lands
men comfortable neither on deck or below.
/ go discreetly to my state-room, and stay
there; and the hours of the long night wear
slowly away Thanks to provisions for my
comfort made by kind friends at home, and
to steampipes under my BERTH 1 am warm
enough but still unreconciled. IL L sleep
it is by fits and starts. get accustomed to
depending solely upon my ears for knowl-
edge of passing events. The steady throb
of the engine in the hold assures me that
the great machine is faithful to its appoint
ed task. The Kissing, seething sounds that
come through the closed portfolios tells me
how the waves are resisting the invasion of
their province by the man-made levathan.
Now and then a heavy thump and lurch is
followed by down-pour Of water on the
deck, and l hear 1t hurrying towards the
lee scuppers, like mountain brook. 1t
tears Always an outside stairway, but makes
so much other noise that that loss passes
fro over my head and near me, driving
wedges to hold the protecting canvas on
the hatches lashing our steamer chairs Sc
curely together, and making everything
tight and fast. Ominous sounds, suggest
i've of my fellow passengers misery come
to me from other state-rooms.
At length daylight appears, but is the
dim light OF dark, chilly, dreary day, with
little CLEAN Of satisfaction in it. Break.
fast, sir2" "No, Mr.. Steward, 1 thank
you" Noon comes. "Will you have
lunch, sir?" "Well, not yet, l think"
Six o'clock, and the menu for dinner is pre-.
sented But, alas! while l seem to need
something strengthening, l have no desire
for food; and 1 cling to my berth, and lie
| for hours longer, listless, dull, hardly hall
alive,-much, imagine like alternating
| bear, though not so comfortable. What 6
day for human being,-what Sunday for
a Christian minister-to count in his calen
| dar!
]. E. W.
ANOTHER DAY AT SEA.
Thursday, March LIST, 1900.
All, this is something like it! This ap
proaches the manifesto! We were told
much of the attractions OF the placid sum
mer sea in March, but till today those
stories seemed like traps to catch the un
wary. This morni g, however, the sur
| burst up with radiant face, as from a bath
in magnificent bowl Of molten gold The
air was mild, the breeze moderate, the
water gently heaving, to lull to rest rather
than to disturb the quiet of the stomach
| The shores of eastern Cuba, lying in natural
terraces, were in sight perhaps three miles
away, angry breakers lining them, but
| hardly white cap between us and theii
foam. The passengers all on deck; every
body at table at meal tines the shady side
of the promenade deck preferred; awnings
spread; thin underclothing and duck trous
ers in order; the sky almost cloudless, yet
no excessive heat in the shade; flying fish
| sporting in the water and out OF it fol
| glancing moments, and the white bubble
| like sail of Portuguese man-of-war visible
now and then. Everybody is happy; the
young people Of the party, full of fun, enter
| tanning themselves and others with songs
and games in the balmy air;-the seq q
delightful blue more charming by contrast
with the white into which it is churned by
the vessels motion.
This is ideal This is what we have beer
looking for these four doleful days. Now
| at last, we believe in a trip to tropica
| isle. And when the sun drops beneath the
| western waves, "calm, suddenly and still, '
| and night with multitudinous stars (many
new to Us northerners), follows the briefes
twilight, we are ready to sing:
| Oh, what so rare a day in June?
But it isn't June; it is, as we have to fore,
| ourselves to believe, against the evidenc,
of our senses, the much dreaded month o
| march,
j. E. w.