This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1890. Excerpt: ... HE big steamship, Fulda, had just steamed into Quarantine with an unusually large freight of sea-weary passengers, who flocked to the rail that surrounded the deck and gazed eagerly at the signs of busy humanity, as a welcome picture relieving an ocean-tossed condition of chaos. Hardly had the Fulda cast a temporary anchor, than a little yacht, upon which were a number of city people, including your humble servant, approached. A tall, lank being and his companion, a sunny-haired, smiling woman, were distinctly visible, uttering farewells to the Fulda's passengers, and preparing to descend a flight of steps leading from the imposing vessel to the comparatively ridiculous yacht. The lank individual was Henry Irving, stately even after his sea voyage; classical after the utter prose of the transatlantic crossing. His companion was of course Miss Ellen Terry, as supremely charming as though she had just stepped from her London home. They were soon on board the yacht, regretfully watched by the less-welcomed passengers. Miss Terry became emotional as soon as we had started for the city. A tear or two lurked in her eyes, and she talked rather wistfully of home. I imagined that this was a little bit of affectation, devised to please the newspaper men, who were watching her every movement with lynx eyes. I was mistaken, and learned later that Miss Terry, in her private life, is as emotional as in any of the roles she is called upon to portray. That was the first glimpse I had of her--on board that little yacht. She talked very charmingly, but very informally, and when not thus engaged, devoted herself to her little daughter, Edith Wardell, who accompanied her. I say "little daughter." Perhaps, however, I am unnecessarily gallant. Miss Terry is one of the few actr...