Two pretty sisters were always the first arrivals
at the bi-weekly hotel dances. I found that they lived on the far side
of Hamilton Harbour, some six miles by road. As they could not afford
ten dollars twice a week for carriage hire, they put on sea-boots and
oilskins over their ball-gowns, and then paddled themselves across a
mile and a half of rough water, shook out their creases and touched up
their hair on arrival, danced all the evening, and then paddled
themselves home, whatever the weather. Most Bermudian girls, indeed,
seem quite amphibious.
I went out the second time with a great friend of mine, who was
anxious to see her son, then quartered in the island. We had attended
the Parade Service on Sunday at the Garrison Church, and my friend was
resting on the hotel verandah, when she heard two American ladies
talking. "My dear," said one of them, "you ought to have come up to
that Garrison Church. I tell you, it was a right smart, snappy, dandy
little Service, with a Colonel in full uniform reading selections from
the Bible from a gilt eagle."
Amongst other interesting people I saw a good deal of at that time in
Bermuda was "Mark Twain," who had, however, begun to fail, and that
most cultivated and delightful of men, the late William Dean Howells.
Pages:
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232