The steam tender aforesaid was already duly crammed with mail bags, passengers, and a fair proportion of juvenile Americans revelling in the freedom and perfect self-control proper to the race, conspicuous among whom was a pretty little lady of some twelve or thirteen years of age, who had all the airs and graces of "une demoiselle de la vieille Cour." The "_Gallia_" had made a quick passage from Liverpool, and had been fuming about the moorings off Roche's Point since 5.30 A.M. Many of her passengers had landed and gone, some to church, others to chapel, or to the "grand cathedral," and some to stroll about the uninviting streets, and these were now waiting for us in the tender, but the majority of the voyagers were on board writing letters or abusing the post-office and the authorities generally which enforced such a waste of the time they found so heavy on their hands. I found two acquaintances--one indeed an old friend--among the passengers in the tender, and with them I divided the cares of looking after my two married daughters who came "to see me off," thereby obtaining an opportunity for a dash to "see after" my luggage, for I am too old a traveller to trust to the assurances of porters--"It's all right, your honour!" In twenty minutes more the tender, inspected by hundreds of eyes from over the bulwarks, was alongside the slim vast hull of the great Cunarder. I looked up as the eyes looked down, and saw most of my party above, and in a few seconds more was on deck shaking hands with them all round; finding out my State Room--what a noble appellation for the cubicle, "that heritage of woe," of which I was lord!--exhibiting the charms and conveniences of the same to my anxious daughters, who with feminine enthusiasm declared it was "delightful! so snug!" &c., and distributing my property in its angles and covert retreats. "All on board for the shore!" The bell is ringing for the third time! And as the last adieux are spoken, the last kiss, the last shake of the hand, given, and the outward and visible signs of friendship or of love are relegated to tearful eyes and waving kerchiefs, those who are going to sea think perhaps how pleasant it would be to return to the solid earth, and those who are bound for road or pavement struggle with the thought, "I wish I were going too!" Any stick will do to beat a dog! Any umbrella or hat will do to wave at a friend. And so, at 3.30 that afternoon, the "_Gallia_" made a graceful curtsy to an incoming wave, screwed herself out of the roadstead, and turned her stem to the Far West, towards the sun "which, by the bright track of his fiery car, gave token of a goodly day to-morrow." How green and fresh seemed the land where the fields swelled to the edge of the cliffs dotted with whitewashed cottages! Forward, leaning over forecastle bulwarks, the poor Irish emigrants and Irish-Americans were watching the coast-lines and listening to the experts who were pointing out the "Killies" and