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hatches and paddle…boxes is THEIR gleam on cottages and haystacks；
and the monotonous noise of the engines is the steady jingle of the
splendid team。 Anon； the intermittent funnel roar of protest at
every violent roll； becomes the regular blast of a high pressure
engine； and I recognise the exceedingly explosive steamer in which
I ascended the Mississippi when the American civil war was not； and
when only its causes were。 A fragment of mast on which the light
of a lantern falls； an end of rope； and a jerking block or so；
become suggestive of Franconi's Circus at Paris where I shall be
this very night mayhap （for it must be morning now）； and they dance
to the self…same time and tune as the trained steed； Black Raven。
What may be the speciality of these waves as they come rushing on；
I cannot desert the pressing demands made upon me by the gems she
wore； to inquire； but they are charged with something about
Robinson Crusoe； and I think it was in Yarmouth Roads that he first
went a seafaring and was near foundering （what a terrific sound
that word had for me when I was a boy！） in his first gale of wind。
Still； through all this； I must ask her （who WAS she I wonder！） for
the fiftieth time； and without ever stopping； Does she not fear to
stray； So lone and lovely through this bleak way； And are Erin's
sons so good or so cold； As not to be tempted by more fellow…
creatures at the paddle…box or gold？ Sir Knight I feel not the
least alarm； No son of Erin will offer me harm； For though they
love fellow…creature with umbrella down again and golden store； Sir
Knight they what a tremendous one love honour and virtue more： For
though they love Stewards with a bull's eye bright； they'll trouble
you for your ticket； sir…rough passage to…night！
I freely admit it to be a miserable piece of human weakness and
inconsistency； but I no sooner become conscious of those last words
from the steward than I begin to soften towards Calais。 Whereas I
have been vindictively wishing that those Calais burghers who came
out of their town by a short cut into the History of England； with
those fatal ropes round their necks by which they have since been
towed into so many cartoons； had all been hanged on the spot； I now
begin to regard them as highly respectable and virtuous tradesmen。
Looking about me； I see the light of Cape Grinez well astern of the
boat on the davits to leeward； and the light of Calais Harbour
undeniably at its old tricks； but still ahead and shining。
Sentiments of forgiveness of Calais； not to say of attachment to
Calais； begin to expand my bosom。 I have weak notions that I will
stay there a day or two on my way back。 A faded and recumbent
stranger pausing in a profound reverie over the rim of a basin；
asks me what kind of place Calais is？ I tell him （Heaven forgive
me！） a very agreeable place indeed … rather hilly than otherwise。
So strangely goes the time； and on the whole so quickly … though
still I seem to have been on board a week … that I am bumped；
rolled； gurgled； washed and pitched into Calais Harbour before her
maiden smile has finally lighted her through the Green Isle； When
blest for ever is she who relied； On entering Calais at the top of
the tide。 For we have not to land to…night down among those slimy
timbers … covered with green hair as if it were the mermaids'
favourite combing…place … where one crawls to the surface of the
jetty； like a stranded shrimp； but we go steaming up the harbour to
the Railway Station Quay。 And as we go； the sea washes in and out
among piles and planks； with dead heavy beats and in quite a
furious manner （whereof we are proud）； and the lamps shake in the
wind； and the bells of Calais striking One seem to send their
vibrations struggling against troubled air； as we have come
struggling against troubled water。 And now； in the sudden relief
and wiping of faces； everybody on board seems to have had a
prodigious double…tooth out； and to be this very instant free of
the Dentist's hands。 And now we all know for the first time how
wet and cold we are； and how salt we are； and now I love Calais
with my heart of hearts！
'Hotel Dessin！' （but in this one case it is not a vocal cry； it is
but a bright lustre in the eyes of the cheery representative of
that best of inns）。 'Hotel Meurice！' 'Hotel de France！' 'Hotel
de Calais！' 'The Royal Hotel； Sir； Angaishe ouse！' 'You going to
Parry； Sir？' 'Your baggage； registair froo； Sir？' Bless ye； my
Touters； bless ye； my commissionaires； bless ye； my hungry…eyed
mysteries in caps of a military form； who are always here； day or
night； fair weather or foul； seeking inscrutable jobs which I never
see you get！ Bless ye； my Custom House officers in green and grey；
permit me to grasp the welcome hands that descend into my
travelling…bag； one on each side； and meet at the bottom to give my
change of linen a peculiar shake up； as if it were a measure of
chaff or grain！ I have nothing to declare； Monsieur le Douanier；
except that when I cease to breathe； Calais will be found written
on my heart。 No article liable to local duty have I with me；
Monsieur l'Officier de l'Octroi； unless the overflowing of a breast
devoted to your charming town should be in that wise chargeable。
Ah！ see at the gangway by the twinkling lantern； my dearest brother
and friend； he once of the Passport Office； he who collects the
names！ May he be for ever changeless in his buttoned black
surtout； with his note…book in his hand； and his tall black hat；
surmounting his round； smiling； patient face！ Let us embrace； my
dearest brother。 I am yours e tout jamais … for the whole of ever。
Calais up and doing at the railway station； and Calais down and
dreaming in its bed； Calais with something of 'an ancient and fish…
like smell' about it； and Calais blown and sea…washed pure； Calais
represented at the Buffet by savoury roast fowls； hot coffee；
cognac； and Bordeaux； and Calais represented everywhere by flitting
persons with a monomania for changing money … though I never shall
be able to understand in my present state of existence how they
live by it； but I suppose I should； if I understood the currency
question … Calais EN GROS； and Calais EN DETAIL； forgive one who
has deeply wronged you。 … I was not fully aware of it on the other
side； but I meant Dover。
Ding； ding！ To the carriages； gentlemen the travellers。 Ascend
then； gentlemen the travellers； for Hazebroucke； Lille； Douai；
Bruxelles； Arras； Amiens； and Paris！ I； humble representative of
the uncommercial interest； ascend with the rest。 The train is
light to…night； and I share my compartment with but two fellow…
travellers； one； a compatriot in an obsolete cravat； who thinks it
a quite unaccountable thing that they don't keep 'London time' on a
French railway； and who is made angry by my modestly suggesting the
possibility of Paris time being more in their way； the other； a
young priest； with a very small bird in a very small cage； who
feeds the small bird with a quill； and then puts him up in the
network above his head； where he advances twittering； to his front
wires； and seems to address me in an electioneering manner。 The
compatriot （who crossed in the boat； and whom I judge to be some
person of distinction； as he was shut up； like a stately species of
rabbit； in a private hutch on deck） and the young priest （who
joined us at Calais） are soon asleep； and then the bird and I have
it all to ourselves。
A stormy night still； a night that sweeps the wires of the electric
telegraph with a wild and fitful hand； a night so very stormy； with
the added storm of the train…progress through it； that when the
Guard comes clambering round to mark the tickets while we are at
full speed （a really horrible performance in an express train；
though he holds on to the open window by his elbows in the most
deliberate manner）； he stands in such a whirlwind that I grip him
fast by the collar； and feel it next to manslaughter to let him go。
Still； when he is gone； the small； small bird remains at his front
wires feebly twittering to me … twittering and twittering； until；
leaning back in my place and looking at him in drowsy fascination；
I find that he seems to jog my memory as we rush along。
Uncommercial travels （thus the small； small bird） have lain in
their idle thriftless way through all this range of swamp and dyke；
as through many other odd places； and about here； as you very well
know； are the queer old stone farm…houses； approached by
drawbridges； and the windmills that you get at by boats。 Here； are
the lands where the women hoe and dig； paddling canoe…wise from
field to field； and here are the cabarets and other peasant…houses
where the stone dove…cotes in the littered yards are as strong as
warders' towers in old castles。 Here； are the long monotonous
miles of canal； with the great Dutch…built barges garishly painted；