Dragon's Lair 2: Time Warp Download For Windows PC
Celena Holtzberg
The places described herein are not linked togetherby proximity of location and follow no regular line4of travel; but are selected from various lands andfrom among widely differing peoples, for the solepurpose of locating scenes that teem with paintableand photographic subjects. I have endeavored toselect nooks and corners where the artist and photographerwill have suitable accommodations, andwhere the country with its fresh, pure air, andwholesome food may build up the health, while atthe same time an opportunity is afforded for fillingthe portfolio with delightful bits of scenery andcharacteristic figure studies. It has also been myaim to tell of countries and places comparativelyeasy of access, and where those of limited meansmay find satisfactory accommodations.
At times I digress in my pictorial descriptions andoffer some Bits of personal experience that have befallenme upon my journeys, which I trust mayprove of interest and perhaps be of service to otherstravelling through the same places. It is with thesepurposes in view that the following pages havebeen written, and my hope is that they may serveto guide other lovers of the beautiful to some of theattractive spots and fascinating views which I haveattempted to describe in these Odd Bits of Travel.
A stroll through the streets and byways of Liverpoolat night is a sad but interesting experience.Alas for the misery and crime and want that existin all the great cities! Girls, young and pretty, butno longer innocent, may be seen in scores in everylocality: children with poverty and depravity writtenon their faces boldly address one at the streetcorners: men and women, with sharp, pinched featuresand misery and despair in their voices, beseechone for alms, or with fierce cunning lie inwait for the unwary. Sick at heart and with inexpressiblepity we wend our way from one point toanother. Vice, crime, want, suffering meet oureyes on every side: and the old hopeless cry: Why32must these things be? rises up again in our souls.Through the whole night long upon the curb stones,at the corners, lounging against the windows anddoors of closed houses or shops, this lowerstratum of life appears with its atmosphere ofdusky gloom. When the daylight dawns upon thecity, it seems to shrivel up and shrink into themouths of the yawning black cellars and foul alleyswhose very breath is a deadly poison. There aredozens of taverns scattered about the city, andwithin these rooms or stalls are partitioned offwhere sin may be screened from public view, foreven those dyed deepest in crime sometimes fall solow that they dare not carry on their nefariousoperations in the face of their everyday companions.These dens are countenanced by the authorities,and one may find within them criminals ofevery grade who prey upon each other for theirsustenance: but in the long run, it is the proprietorwho comes out with a substantial bank account.
Beggars, peddlers, musicians, singers of bothsexes, and itinerant vendors of all kinds jostle eachother in these haunts of sin, and great cautionshould be exercised in visiting them, for in certainlocalities, crimes of the most brutal character are ofdaily, I might say hourly occurrence. I would suggest33that the tourist should at such times dependfor safety upon the company of a first-class detective.
Chester itself contains many antiquities that are tobe found nowhere else in the world. The houses,dating back to 1500, or even earlier, are of every degreeof shade and color, with little windows withdiamond-shaped panes, and gable ends facing thestreets whose sidewalks are on a level with the secondstories. Everything here seems to belong tothe past, excepting the fine, modern station, tenhundred and fifty feet long, with its projecting ironroofed wings for the protection of vehicles waitingfor passengers from the trains. This station is oneof the longest in England. The famous ChesterRows are public passages running through the secondstories of the houses facing the four principalstreets. These arcades are reached by flights ofsteps at the corners of the streets, and contain somevery attractive shops. The old timber-built housesof Chester with their curious inscriptions are allpreserved in their original ancient style, and nowherein England can the artist or photographer finda more interesting spot, or one richer in ancientand medival relics than this little town.
This scene too fades as we board one of the manytram-cars, and in a few moments are carried to thevery gateway of the world-renowned WarwickCastle, which occupies a commanding position,overlooking the Avon. This ancient pile is artisticallypoised, and presents grand effects of color,light and shade. Upon the payment of a shillingfor each person, the massive iron doors which forcenturies have guarded this stately and historicstronghold, open as if by magic, and a passagewaycut through the solid rock leads us to an open space,where we have a fine view of the magnificent roundtowers and embattled walls. A visit of two hoursgives us opportunity to climb to the top of the ancienttowers which for ages have loomed up asmonuments of power and defiance in the face of theenemy. We are impressed with the vast size ofthe castle. The view from the towers and thewindows is beautiful and romantic. In the spaciouscourtyard there are magnificent old trees and softvelvety turf, and the hand of time has coloredtowers and battlements a rich brown hue thatblends harmoniously with the ivy creeping in andout wherever it can find a place.
Many beautiful old shade trees surround thecastle, and the restful silence inspires one with thedesire to be alone and yield himself up to the spiritof the place, hallowed by such wealth of associationsand the presence of immortal art.
A short distance from the castle, and outside theWarwick enclosure, stands an old mill upon thebank of the Avon. This ancient and picturesquestructure was originally built for the purpose ofgrinding wheat, but the all-observing eye of theartist quickly discovered in it a mission of a higherorder, and for years it has posed as the central figurein the romantic landscapes portrayed by the brushof the painter or the camera of the photographer.
What better opportunity of studying this phaseof life can there be, than in the faces of those whoseexistence is passed amid associations of suffering,want and crime; who not only witness, but experienceall these in their different shades and degrees.
We are not the only ones who have the privilegeof viewing these scenes. Any one who desires andpossesses the necessary courage may invade thehaunts and dens of the lower world, and be profitedby the lessons here learned; but he must exercisegreat caution. The studies are not only forthe brush and camera: they are food for thethoughtful mind which can apply the wisdom thusgained, and seek in these conditions for the solutionof knotty problems. One can better appreciate,by reason of this contrast, the blessings of hisown life; of purity, honesty and contentment asopposed to ignorance, poverty and vice.
It is well for travellers and others to visit the slumsof large cities by night. Here is food for comparisonand reflection, and from these may perhaps arise adifferent feeling from that with which we are accustomedto regard the poor wretches who havelacked the advantages of birth, education and environment.
We take the main thoroughfare within three milesof the Epsom grounds, and now a wonderful sightbursts upon us. Thousands of pedestrians of bothsexes and every age are flocking toward the racecourse: hundreds of carriages, vans, dog carts, tally-hos,vehicles of every description throng the road.Enormous trains are constantly arriving, bearingtheir thousands to the Downs, now covered with avast moving mass. London empties itself on thisall-important day, and proceeds to Epsom by everypossible means of locomotion. The grand stand, ahandsome and commodious structure, is quicklyfilled to overflowing. There are numerous otherstands. The appearance of the Downs, with thecountless booths and the waving multitude whichcover it as far as the eye can reach, is a spectacle thatcannot fail to thrill the soul of the most phlegmatic.No other event in England can concentrate such anamount of interest and excitement as is found on72the scene of the Derby. Every one is in high spirits:young and old, men, women and children all seemmerry and happy, laughing, singing, dancing alongon this one great day of the year. Behold the partyon our right. A large wagon contains ten or moremen and women, who are singing and laughingin great glee, and who invite us to join them. Herea group of a half dozen men with musical instrumentsat their sides are singing to their own accompaniment.The dust rises in clouds, and we arecovered from head to foot with it as with a garment:we all wear veils pinned around our heads to protectour eyes.
At last we reach Epsom Hill, and here wepay two guineas for the admission of our partyand conveyance. We are also entitled to a placeanywhere on the hill which overlooks the race-course.Our horses are picketed after being takenfrom the wagon, and our two attendants spread beforeus a most sumptuous repast. Coaches of everykind are so thickly jumbled together that for a vastdistance the hill seems covered with a coat of darkpaint.
Thousands and thousands of men, women andchildren are assembled upon this hillside, whiletens of thousands fill the stands and encircle therace-course. It is estimated that no less than fromone hundred thousand to one hundred and fiftythousand persons are massed together at these races.
But these sounds drop away, and silence prevailsas five slender well-shaped racers appear, ridden byjockeys, but when the wild mad race begins inwhich each endeavors to outdo the others, the excitementand tumult know no bounds: shouts,groans, cheers fill the air, and every eye is strainedalong the course: one could readily believe that a76whole world of mad spirits has been let loose to fillthe air with their hoarse discordant sounds.
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