great
number of people--men, women, and children.

"What is that?" asked Rollo, suddenly. "What do you suppose all those
people are doing on board that ship?"

"That must be an emigrant ship," said Mr. George. "Those are emigrants,
I have no doubt, going to America. Let us go on board."

"Will they allow us to go?" asked Rollo, doubtfully.

"O, yes," said Mr. George; "they will not know but that we are emigrants
ourselves, or the friends of some of the emigrants. In fact, we _are_
the friends of some of the emigrants. We are the friends of _all_ of
them."

So saying, Mr. George led the way, and Rollo followed up the plankway
which led to the deck of the ship. Here a very singular spectacle
presented itself to view. The decks were covered with groups of people,
all dressed in the most quaint and singular costume, and wearing a very
foreign air. They were, in general, natives of the interior provinces of
France and Germany, and they were dressed in accordance with the
fashions which prevailed in the places from which they severally came.

The men were generally standing or walking about. Some were talking
together, others were smoking pipes, and others still were busy with
their chests and bundles, rearranging their effects apparently, so as to
have easy and convenient access to such as they should require for the
voyage. Then there were a great many groups of women and girls seated
together on benches, trunks, or camp stools, with little children
playing about near them on the deck.

"I am very glad to see this," said Mr. George. "I have very often
witnessed the landing of the emigrants in New York at the end of their
voyage; and here I have the opportunity of seeing them as they go on
board the ship, at the beginning of it."

"I am glad, too," said Rollo. "But look at that old woman!"

Rollo pointed as he said this to an aged woman, whose face, which was of
the color of mahogany, was wrinkled in a most extraordinary manner, and
who wore a cap of very remarkable shape and dimensions. She had an
antique-looking book in her hands, the contents of which she seemed to
be conning over with great attention. Mr. George and Rollo looked down
upon the pages of the book as they passed, and saw that it was printed
in what might be called an ancient black-letter type.

"It is a German book," said Rollo, in a whisper.

"Yes," said Mr. George. "I suppose it is her Bible, or perhaps her
Prayer Book."

Near the old woman