The passage across the Channel was quite calm and quick for this time of the year. Should the tunnel ever be finished, it would be wonderful to experience traveling via train from London to France. Possibly even directly to Paris itself! Having the two great nations connected such would no doubt go a long ways towards healing our historic differences.
At the terminal I happened upon a newspaper article covering the possible Treaty that has been proposed by the Russian Ambassador, Count Nikolai Pavlovich Ignatiev. My English passport should be enough to get me through the lines to Romania, but this current peace will make that much easier.
On the same page was another piece about that scoundrel, Spring Heeled Jack. Speculation still abounds about his true identity, although the common folk still think of him as the Devil himself and take such precautions as the local superstitions suggest.
I had the luck of being able to interview a Miss Abigail White of Portsmouth some years ago. She had been accosted by the man himself sometime in August of 1874. His metal claws raked her skin through the torn fabric of her attire leaving her feeling quite vulnerable. Her screams brought the local Constable brandishing his club and yelling at the fiend to stop. Jack then jumped at the Constable and proceeded to slap the poor man to the ground with one blow. His powerful leap took him to the top of a nearby building by which means he escaped confinement once again.
I dare say that such a man who does this must be mad. One can only hope that his reign of terror is soon over as by my count he has been taunting the populace and soldiers of our Island for two score years.
Tomorrow shall see me on the train to Deutsches Reich and on into the Turkish Empire within a fortnight. Tonight is Supper at a club around the corner – at least I hope it is nearby. My French is not quite as I remember it and the devil of a doorman seemed to take some pride in attempting to confuse directions with his dialect. No doubt he is a former soldier who suffered defeat at the hands of our Army.
On the advice of a frequent traveler to the Country, I have picked up what is known as a “Vampire Hunter Kit,” manufactured by Professor Ernst Blomberg, before heading to Romania and locals on business. The country side is apparently quite thick with the vermin and weary travelers must beware their attacks at night.
Included in the kit is a Holy Bible, several wooden stakes and mallet, a perfectly balanced knife, and several vial of various potions. In addition to brimstone, silver water, holy water, and flowers of garlic there is one of Professor Blomberg’s New Serum. This concoction is promised to halt vampires in any circumstances. The entire kit and it’s contents are branded with additional crosses. My sources also suggest acquiring a brace of dueling pistols once I hit the Continent. Loaded with silver shot they will be quite effective in stopping attacks upon my personage. 
I hope I shall be quite safe with these items. My contact in Romania has promised to hire an additional guard for my personage against such attacks. Normally I would not go at all and wait out the season, but Business must be attended too.
Emerson has come into possesion of the log book of the Andromache. It seems that Edward Bransfield who is best known for finding the great southern island Antartica, made his way to the Dark Continent after that voyage. Putting in at a small river for much needed supplies of food, water, and some wood to replace a cracked spar, the crew found themselves in one of the densest jungles they have seen.
Reminiscent of Dr. David Linvingston’s expeditions before that fateful meeting with Henry Morton Stanley, portions of the ship’s crew entered the jungle to search for a tree sturdy enough to replace the spar. The native brush of that area being of vines and tall flowering plants they marched several furlongs in land before finding a suitable specimen. To their immense surprise, a huge lizard like animal was disturbed and thundered away from them. It’s very weight shook the ground and threw the men down.
A few of the less stout fellows in the crew took some time to be coaxed down from the tree, but eventually it was dispatched and stripped of branches. Being near night they resolved to make camp and return to the Andromache the following day. During the night the crew reported an amount of commotion in the brush as to make them think they were under attack, and not receive any rest.
Upon first light their amazement grew. A tribe of large horned lizards had surrounded the camp site. The smallest being forty hands in height. These lizards chewed grasses and brush much like the cattle and sheep of our own home. They showed no obvious discomfort at having their morning repast interrupted. The dear Andromache’s crew men could not say the same. With some trepidation they made short work of the fallen tree and returned to the ship in record time.
As can be seen in these drawings included in the log book, the lizards are quite unlike any I have seen before. The common idea around the Club is that they may be of the genus Dinosuari, long thought to have expired years ago. If so this puts into some serious doubt the veracity of those observations.
Knowing my penchant for such investigations, I was contacted by one Terrance Chamberlain, a parish Priest from Northern London. One of his flock was having a rough time with what I came to understand was a small girl’s imported French doll. It seems the doll would come to life and cause great amounts of mischief. Upon arriving at the beleaguered parisher’s home, we were greeted with a torrent of clothing articles, dishes, chamber pots, and even I believe furniture, had it fit through the upstairs window.
Upon entering the house we found the French doll in question, being scolded by it’s owner, the young Miss Tabitha Pitt. As soon as it’s eyes alighted upon us an evil breath filled the room. Barely escaping with coat tails and dare I say, dignity attached, we retired to a nearby coffee shop to plan the night’s tactics.
It was finally agreed upon that after the young lady was asleep, we would sneak in upon the doll and take possesion of it to deposit into the nearest fire we could aspire to. This was done with some difficulty, who should think that such a small creature would have such a fearful presence and grip? With both it’s voice and Miss Pitt’s ringing in our heads, the doll was dispatched with haste in the downstairs Crawford.
