This element in our little society troubled somewhat my
enjoyment of the voyage. I had some patriotic nerves, if I was
an American; and every one of them was often tingling with
disagreeable irritation. Besides, ill-breeding is of itself
always disagreeable enough; and here was ill-breeding in well-
bred people, - worst of all. And I had my own private reasons
for annoyance. A favourite theme with the company was the want
of soldiers or generals at the North, and the impossibility
that a set of mechanics and tradesmen, who knew only how to
make money and keep it, should be able in chivalrous and
gentlemanly exercises to cope with the Southern cavaliers, who
were accustomed to sword and pistol and the use of them from
their youth up. Bull Run, they said, showed what the
consequence must always be, of a conflict between soldiers
with the martial spirit and soldiers without it. It would be
much better and cheaper for the North to succumb at once. I
had Southern prejudice enough to believe there might be a good
deal of truth in this, but I could not bear to hear it or to
think it; for besides the question of country and right, the
ruin of the North would be disaster to Mr. Thorold and me. I
shunned at last all conversation with our English companions,
as far as I could, and bent my thoughts forward to the joyful
meeting which lay before me with father and mother and
brother. Brighter and brighter the prospect grew, as each day
brought it nearer; and I sat sometimes by the hour looking
over the waters and resting my heart in the hope of that
meeting.
"Almost in, Miss Randolph," said the doctor, coming to my side
one of those times.
I brought my eyes from the dancing sea, and answered "You are
glad."
"Very glad."
"What route will you take, when we get to land?"
"The shortest."
"You do not wish to see anything by the way?"
"I can see enough, after I get to them," I answered.
"You are at a happy time of life!" the doctor said after a
pause.
"Are you past it, Dr. Sandford?" I asked, replying, I think,
to something in the tones of his voice.
"I do not know. I think, yes. Cologne cathedral will never be
to me what it will be to you."
"What will it be to me?"
"I wish you would tell me, when you see it."
"Does it lie in our route?" I asked somewhat eagerly.
"It can - if you choose."
"But I should not want to stop to look at it," I said; "and I
could not see it without stopping, I suppose."
"I suppose not. Well, we will push forward as fast as
possible. To Lausanne, is it?"