I arrived in Calais at night, and at once took the steamer for Dover. We started in a terrific thunder storm, which raged up and down that narrow channel with uncontrollable fury. We were three hours in crossing; and three such hours I never passed in my life before. There were about forty of us in the cabin, a little, square room, not large enough to accommodate ten comfortably. The waves dashed over the decks and we were shut down, without the least ventilation The steamer was small, and, under the violence of the waves, seemed to be knocked about like a chip in a tempest. Most of the passengers were French, who were going over to the great exhibition, and many of them were very much alarmed. And, indeed, it did seem as if we should go to the bottom. Our little boat seemed to be standing now on one end, and then on the other; now poised on a watery pinnacle, and anon buried deep in the trough of the sea, while far above us the angry waves were heard roaring in their terrible might. Of the forty persons shut up in the cabin, I believe I was the only one who was not sea-sick; and I was saved from it only by the sport which the ludicrous scenes furnished. Here were men and women vomiting, some in bowls, some on the floor, and some in the hats and bonnets of friends; young ladies lying down on the floor, drabbling fine silk dresses in the filth, in the wildest consternation; the French chattering most outrageously, and uttering the most hideous outcries; the steward running from one to another with the consoling exclamations, "No danger!" "Don't be skeered!" "Get there soon!" with which he endeavored to comfort the wretched creatures, who imagined they were about to perish. In the midst of all this, the stove fell down, bringing with it our only lamp, leaving us in total darkness. Then was such an outcry as I never heard, which, until another light was brought and order restored, was truly terrible. The norrors of a whole voyage across the Atlantic did not equal the scenes of that one evening, into three hours of which were crowded all the awfulness of the sea storm and all the danger of shipwreck. On arriving at Dover, we repaired to the customhouse, where our baggage was examined. I had in my bag a little reprint of an English work which I had purchased in Venice, and the margin of every page of which I had crowded with notes, which were of no small value to me. The rude, burly fellow who examined my little stock of goods perceived this book, and before I could remonstrate, coolly tore it to pieces, and threw the fragments upon the floor. That night I remained in Dover, and in the morning started in an early train for London, and arrived in time to breakfast with some of my friends, who were just sitting down to their morning meal. Two or three weeks I remained in London, visiting the Crystal Palace, attending the sittings of the Peace Congress, wandering about among the stores, churches, and houses, making valuable acquaintances, and receiving much desirable information. Some of the things which I saw, and some of the places which I visited, I have described in a former chapter; and the rest I will not weary you to detail. Of all the countries in Europe, England is the greatest and the best; of all sovereigns, Victoria is the most worthy of affection; and though there are stains upon her administration, and though there are wrongs and abuses beneath the shadow of her throne, yet no one who has looked upon her sweet countenance, and beheld the greatness of her empire. can withhold the expression, "God save the queen.' We may not respond to every sentiment of her own poet laureate,1 contained in the ode with which he has dedicated to her majesty one of his latest works; and yet, in the present state of Europe, we know not how to utter any other wish. "Revered Victoria, you that hold A nobler office upon earth Than arms, or power of brain, or birth “I thank you that your royal grace This laurel, greener from the brows "And should your greatness, and the care “Take, madam, this poor book of song; For though the faults were thick as dust "And leave us rulers of your blood As noble till the latest day! "Her court was pure; her life serene, God gave her peace; her land reposed; 1 Alfred Tennyson. She brought a vast design to pašs, Of our fierce world were mixed as friends And brethren in her halls of glass;· "And statesmen at her council met, By shaping some august decree XXXVIII. THE VOYAGE - HOME AGAIN. FROM London to Liverpool, where I tarried a few days, visiting Chester, Birkenhead, and other places of interest in the vicinity, I went, and secured my place. in the steamer which was to bear me to my own dear native land. I embarked on board the Europa, July 29, and passing out of the North Channel by the Isle of Man, the coasts of merry England and green Ireland faded from our view. Farewell, Liverpool, Birkenhead, the Mersey, and the rough, boisterous channel. Welcome, wide, deep, billowy ocean, for ye bear me to kindred and clime, to the loved scenes of youth, and the dear delights of home. Sunday came-a dull, irksome day. a dull, irksome day. We had no religious service on board, and the passengers went moping about, half sea-sick, sad and lonesome. A week rolled away-a stupid week. There were no storms, no vessels in sight, not even a sea serpent to furnish us amusement. Another Sunday came, and we assembled in the cabin to hear the English church service read by the captain, and a sermon appended to it by Rev. Alexander J. Sessions, of Salem. The discourse was from these words "The kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord."1 The preacher attempted to show that the religion of 1 Rev. xi. 15. |