My stay in New Haven has been as pleasant as a midsummer dream, and seemingly as short as a widower’s courtship. But we must now return to New York. In less than three hours we will leave by the State Line, on “The State of Indiana,” for Glasgow, Scotland. And now that the time of my departure has come, I find myself breathing a prayer to God, asking that He will direct my course; that He will guide my footsteps; that in all my wanderings He will keep me from danger and death; that He will finally bring me back in health and safety to the land of my birth, to the friends of my childhood, to those whom I love and who are dearer to me than life itself. And so may it be. More heartily than ever before, I can say: “My native country! thee, Land of the noble free, Thy name I love: I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills; My heart with rapture thrills Like that above.” CHAPTER II. ON THE HIGH SEAS. A Difficulty with the Officers of the Ship—A Parting Scene—Danger on the Atlantic—A Parallel Drawn—Liberty Enlightening the World—Life on the Ocean Wave—Friends for the Journey—The Ship a Little World—A Clown and his Partner—Birds of a Feather—Whales—Brain Food—Storm at Sea—A Frightened Preacher—Storm Rages—A Sea of Glory—Richard Himself Again—Land in Sight—Scene Described—Historic Castle—Voyage Ended—Two Irishmen. STEPPING on board the steamship State of Indiana, I say to the purser: “Sir, I am from the West; I want elbow-room. Can’t you take away these partitions and turn several of these compartments into one?” He replies: “You are _now_ from the West, but you will soon be _from_ this ship, unless you keep quiet.” From this remark I see at once that the fellow is a crank, and I will either let him have his own way or give him a whipping. I choose the former; so we shake hands over the bloody chasm—or, I should say, over the briny deep. I can never forget the scene that takes place at the wharf. The hour for departure has arrived. Hundreds of people have gathered around the vessel. As the last bell rings, there is hurrying to and fro. Friend leaving friend; husband kissing wife; fathers and daughters, mothers and sons, mingling their tears together, as parents and children take their last fond embrace of each other. Ah! There are streaming eyes and heavy hearts. As the vessel moves off, one sees the throwing of kisses, the waving of hats and handkerchiefs. But we are gone. Tear-bedimmed eyes can no longer behold the forms of loved ones. I dare say that many of these partings will be renewed no more on this earth.