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after the revolution. We saw in the queen's boudoir a bust of Marie Antoinette. This had been shattered when a mob went through the villa, but it was afterward restored. In another room was a portrait of the little dolphin. In the park belonging to the Petit Trianon are a number of small houses known as the hamlet, the farm, the dairy, the kitchen, and others, where the queen and her ladies played at country life. Now all is bare and deserted, but nevertheless it is a lovely spot, being quite picturesque with vines creeping over the house and framing the latticed windows. From here we returned to the hotel.
Monday, October 10. We spent the day attending to our final shopping and packing, as we leave for London in the morning. We have our tickets by way of Calais, that being the shortest and fastest route across the channel. Miss Fisher dined with us this evening. She has just returned from a short visit out in the country and said she had some difficulty in returning, as a number of roads are striking and a general strike is feared. She thinks possibly we may have trouble in getting away if this occurs, as the strike has for some time been threatened. I trust we may be fortunate enough to escape before it comes.
Tuesday, October 11. We were up early, getting ready to start, when Miss Fisher came in to tell us the strike was on, and no cars were running on the road we expected to take. Our only chance now by rail was one other road, and our tickets would have to be exchanged. The time was short and Gusty rushed over to the American Express office to see what could be done, while I anxiously awaited the result. She succeeded in making the exchange, and we were soon seated in the car, having bade Miss Fisher good-by, and we were off. We reached the station in time for our train and to secure seats. Idle workmen were standing all about through the station. Gusty said it looked as if this road might strike also, but as it belonged to the government she hardly thought it would. We said good-by to Gaston, and his eyes looked wet, but he smiled when he saw I was wearing the bunch of violets he had presented to me that morning. He is a fine chauffeur and a practical mechanician. I have his address and he promised, if I sent for him, he would come to the United States. We were not long in reaching our destination, Dieppe, and getting on board our boat.
We had a comfortable passage over, and on reaching London late in the afternoon, we heard the road we had come on, out of Paris, went on a strike just after we left, and ours was the last train out. We stopped again at Morly's Hotel. It rained all day, but we hoped to find it clear in the morning, as I am anxious to go to Frome, our ancestral town.
FROME Wednesday, October 12. It rained hard all night, and was still pouring down, but, being my only opportunity for seeing Frome, we will go. It is only one hundred miles from London, and, had I thought sooner, we could have stopped there on our way to Ireland. The rain was still coming down in torrents when we reached Frome. We took a carriage and drove directly to the parish church of St. John the Baptist. My ancestor, Captain John Cockey, presented the bell which hangs in the belfrey. The church has greatly changed and improved since his day and is now modern and beautiful. I saw the sexton and made inquiry regarding the family. A few of the name still live here, and I would surely try to see them if it was not raining so hard. We returned to our carriage and drove about the little old town, stopping at a book shop where I bought some books of Frome and post-cards ; chatted with the little old proprietor, hoping to gain some information of the Cockey family, but did not. Then we drove to the station and took the first train for London, lunching on the train. It was late afternoon when we arrived and reached our hotel, but we were thankful to be housed again out of the wet. But I am glad we made the trip.
Thursday, October 13. We spent the day shopping and getting ready to leave in the morning for Liverpool. I have been trying all through our trip to persuade Gusty to return home with me, as I had promised her mother to bring her back, if possible. She says she is not ready yet, but will come over next spring
Friday, October 14. We took a morning train for Liverpool, and on arriving went direct to the Northwestern Hotel, located, then took a carriage and drove to the White Star Line office to make my final arrangements for sailing on the good ship Baltic to-morrow.
Saturday, October 15. We drove down to the steamer this morning, Gusty going on board with me to see that I was perfectly comfortable and well situated. She is not at all well, having contracted a fearful cold, I am afraid, from being in the rain Thursday. I told her to take it easy, and remain in London till the strike was over, and she felt well enough to travel. Then she bade me good-by and returned to the landing, standing on the dock and waving to me as the steamer drew farther and farther away till she looked but a mere speck in the distance.
Then I went to my stateroom, unpacked for my week on board, made myself generally comfortable, and went on deck, sitting in my chair the rest of the afternoon; going down to dinner that evening.
Sunday, October 16. I went to breakfast this morning, then sat on deck in my chair till noon, as the ship commenced rolling about this time.
I went to my room, and had hard work getting there, as I was so dizzy. From that time on until we landed in New York I spent in my stateroom, between my bed and couch, just as I had done on my first crossing in the spring. Everything I ate disagreed with me, so I lived this time on oatmeal gruel and cracked ice. We had a rough passage, just as we had in the spring. Several times a heavy fog settled down and the doleful foghorn kept sounding forth at short intervals night and day till it lifted. By Saturday, October 22, I was feeling much better, so finished my packing and got ready for the customs officers, then went up on deck and sat in my chair for a while.
Sunday, October 23, it was cold and I remained in my stateroom in preference to going on deck. My chair had been taken with my trunks to land.