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LETTER I.
VOYAGE.— ARRIVAL AT NEW YORK.— BURNING OF QUARANTINE BUILDINGS.— CABLE REJOICINGS.— DESCRIPTION OF THE TOWN.
New York, September 3, 1858.
We landed here yesterday afternoon, at about six o'clock, after a very prosperous voyage; and, as the Southampton mail goes to-morrow, I must begin this letter to you to-night. I had fully intended writing to you daily during the voyage, but I was quite laid up for the first week with violent sea sickness, living upon water-gruel and chicken-broth. I believe I was the greatest sufferer in this respect on board; but the doctor was most attentive, and a change in the weather came to my relief on Sunday,—not that we had any rough weather, but there was rather more motion than suited me at first.
Papa and William were well throughout the voyage, eating and drinking and walking on deck all day. Our companions were chiefly Americans, and many of them were very agreeable and intelligent. Amongst the number I may mention the poet Bryant, who was returning home with his wife and daughter after a long visit to Europe; but they, too, have suffered much from sea sickness, and, as this is a great bar to all intercourse, I had not as much with them as I could have wished.
The north coast of Ireland delighted us much on our first Sunday. We passed green hills and high cliffs on our left, while we could see the distant outline of the Mull of Cantire, in Scotland, on our right. We had no service on that Sunday, but on the one following we had two services, which were read by the doctor; and we had two good sermons from two dissenting ministers. The second was preached by a Wesleyan from Nova Scotia, who was familiar with my father's name there. He was a good and superior man, and we had some interesting conversations with him.
We saw no icebergs, which disappointed me much; but we passed a few whales last Tuesday, spouting up their graceful fountains in the distance. One came very near the ship, and we had a distinct view of its enormous body. We had a good deal of fog when off Newfoundland, which obliged us to use the fog-whistle frequently; and a most dismal sounding instrument it is. The fog prevented our having any communication with Cape Race, from whence a boat would otherwise have come off to receive the latest news from England, and our arrival would have been telegraphed to New York.
The coast of Long Island came in sight yesterday, and our excitement was naturally great as we approached the American shore.
Before rounding Sandy Hook, which forms the entrance on one side to the bay of New York, we ran along the eastern coast of Long Island, which presents nothing very remarkable in appearance, although the pretty little bright town of Rockaway, with its white houses studded along the beach, and glittering in the sun, gave a pleasing impression of the country. This was greatly increased when, running up the bay, we came to what are called the Narrows, and had Staten Island on our left and Long Island on the right. The former, something like the Isle of Wight in appearance, is a thickly-wooded hill covered with pretty country villas, and the Americans were unceasing in their demands for admiration of the scenery.
Before entering the Narrows, indeed shortly after passing Sandy Hook, a little boat with a yellow flag came from the quarantine station to see if we were free from yellow fever and other disorders. There were many ships from the West Indies performing quarantine, but we were happily exempted, being all well on board. It was getting dark when we reached the wharf; and, after taking leave of our passenger friends, we landed, and proceeded to an adjoining custom-house, where, through the influence of one of our fellow-passengers, our boxes were not opened, but it was a scene of great bustle and confusion....