was to be accompanied to Paris by my young friend, who
spoke the French language perfectly, and was well acquainted with the
etiquette of the journey. We entered the express train at London Bridge
at half-past eight. When it was just starting, my host, who had
accompanied us, clung to the panel of the door, and warned me, with
provoking warmth, to "write, write, as soon as I was safe." As the train
drove off and his boisterous adieus died on my ear, I lost the last
feeling of anxiety on my own account. The carriage was full--a German
with a toothache--two gossiping old bachelors--a jolly English resident
of the sunny south--my friend and myself occupied the six seats. However
fluttered may be the hearts of the passengers, whatever may be the
pressure of guilt, or fear, or remorse upon their souls, the heart of
the mighty engine, on its fiery course, throbs only with one passion,
namely how to outspeed the flight of time. Our fellow-travellers
conversed upon all subjects, and wished for my opinion upon each; but I
was so reserved and pious, and my friend so ready and witty, and
exuberant in his gaiety, that my obstinate silence was pardoned or
forgotten. We were able to make our way on board Her Majesty's mail
packet by the light of a clouded moon, then fast waning. I did not
trouble myself to learn the name of the boat, but she appeared endued
with more than the speed of fire. She flew over her allotted trip in one
hour and three-quarters, and about two o'clock I set my foot on the free
soil of the young Republic.

I had longed for such an event with an intensity of feeling not to be
described; nay, I had often enjoyed anticipated exultation from
indulging in a vague dream of its bare possibility, which absorbed all
the gloom and horror of my situation. Yet when I stepped securely on
what, to me, was hallowed ground, an adequate appreciation of the
circumstance was far from realised in my feelings. New sights and sounds
began to share my thoughts and engross my comprehension. In a moment the
past vanished, with all its disquietude and alarm; and I entered on the
new scene with a taste akin to the appetite of a convalescent. If I felt
any deep emotion, it was only when my mind recurred to the fate of my
comrades, or the feelings of joy with which my family would learn the
tidings of my safety. We left our baggage at the Custom house--mine
consisted of a pair of boots stowed away in a rather capacious
valise--handed the k