their good wishes for a fortunate crossing, the City of Dublin gave her last signal for departure, at one in the afternoon, and majestically descended the Scheldt. In the evening we issued upon the North Sea, in calm and serene weather-the setting of the sun on such an occasion, always so beautiful and among the great wonders of the Lord, was watched with admiration by all the passengers on board.
Furious winds always create torments on the ocean. On the second day out, Sunday, the City o f Dublin was tipping and pitching over the surface of the waves - it was the timely moment chosen by Neptune to levy his tax and exact his painful tribute from the passengers on board. The greater number submitted, willing or not, without the least resistance. This is a sorrowfully amusing scene-contagious moreover to the spectator; but it seldom has serious consequences. Our 400 passengers, with few exceptions, had as if by a common agreement and simultaneously adopted a dolorous bearing, accompanied by grimaces and gestures and by efforts to yield up and satisfy the exigen cies of the pitiless Neptune. All the deck presented groups of families, standing or lying, pell-mell, fathers, mothers and children, sparing not one another, covered and surrounded with most disagreeable heaps. The comedy lasted until toward evening, when the ocean resumed its calm and the boat ceased its rolling. Pumps and buckets were then brought into use, and all these slutteries deposited on the deck were thrown into the sea, to serve as pasture to the sea-calves and their numerous aquatic comrades -the gulls followed the vessel in flocks, and participated also in the great feast of the Neptunian tax.
On the 16th, with superb weather, the City o f Dublin entered the beautiful bay of Queenstown, Ireland. The whole day was employed in taking on coal; at eight in the evening of the same day the anchor was raised and the steamer shot forth again toward its destination. The ocean was calm and tranquil, and maintained its serenity thereafter throughout the crossing. The wind, or rather the