old age.” And this same sage Hamlet’s right; therefore, without more ado, let us get us on our travels. So, here we are in the Jerseys. Now _westward_ shall lie our course. Here come the cars. Quick—jump in—here is a good seat, close by the old gentleman in the India-rubber cape. Ding, ding—ding, ding. There goes the bell. Shwist, shwist. We are off. Clank—jirk—click—click—clickety—click—click. Here we go. We fly over the bridges, and through the tunnels; the rail fences spin by us in ribands; the mile-stones play leap-frog; the abutments dash by us. Screech! the cattle jump like mad out of our way. Already at Jersey City? We paddle across. Ay, here we are, just in time, on board the “Swallow.” What a pandemonium of racket, and noise, and confusion! Steam yelling, bells ringing, boys and negroes bawling, porters and hackmen hurrying.—“Get out of my way, you dirty little baboon, with your papers.”—“Thank you, madam, no oranges.”—“All aboard.”—Tinkle, tinkle.—The walking-beam rises, the heavy wheels splash.—We shoot out into the stream.—We make a graceful curve, and, simultaneously with five other steamers, stretch like race-horses up the majestic Hudson. How beautifully the Narrows and the Ocean open to our view, and the noble bay, studded with its islands, and fortresses, and men-of-war, “tall, high admirals,” with frowning batteries and chequered sides. In what graceful amity float the nations’ emblems—the Tricolour, the Red Cross, the Black Eagle, the Stars and Stripes. But we take the lead. Fire up—fire up, engineer,—her namesake cuts the air not more swiftly than our fleet boat her element. Still as a mirror lies the tranquil water. The dark pallisades above us, with fringed and picturesque outline, are reflected on its polished surface; and the lordly sloops, see how lazily they roll and pitch on the long undulating swell made by our progress, their scarlet pennons quivering on its surface as it regains its smoothness.