T. Wemyss Reid

Biographical details

T. Wemyss Reid The land of the Bey (1882)

A very brief run brought us up to the station within the walls of Tunis. The throng of Arabs, Jews, and Jewesses, in their many-hued dresses, poured out of the carriages of the train, and passed from the shade of the station into the dazzling glare of the sunshine beyond in a brilliant cascade of colour. I parted from my new-found English friends, and set off with Afrigan to the hotel, a stout negro porter carrying my portmanteaus, travelling-rugs, and other impedimenta upon his back, in a fashion recalling the hammals of Stamboul.
Source: Gutenberg

T. Wemyss Reid Memoirs of Sir Wemyss Reid 1842-1885

London was to me the city of all cities—the one great goal of the journalist's ambition. I took short views of life even then, but my secret hope, ever present to my mind, was that I might some day attain a post in connection with the London Press. As the crawling train came into the southern counties—farther south than I had ever been in my life before—I remember counting the milestones on the road, and suffering all the emotions of the youth in "Locksley Hall" as he draws nearer to the world's central point.
Source: Gutenberg

T. Wemyss Reid The land of the Bey (1882)

La Calle, the first port on the way to Goletta. Alas! no sooner had we got clear of the harbour of Bone than we found ourselves in the full enjoyment of all the experiences of a white squall. Only a few hours had been needed to turn the placid sea of yesterday into a boiling, angry ocean, upon which our brave Charles Quint pitched and rolled like a cork. Woeful was then the scene among our deck passengers. One after another they succumbed to their inevitable fate, and before long there did not seem to be a single person among them who was not horribly sick.
Source: Gutenberg

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