rld
to the New.

What a difference has taken place since those "good old days" of those
good old wooden ships, with their good old slow passages and their good
old uncomfortable berths! Now the state cabin is an apartment perfectly
ventilated, gorgeously furnished, equipped with every modern
improvement, and electrically lighted; the switches close to the bed
(not berth) enable one to turn the light on or off at will. The
ever-watchful attendant comes in, wishes me good-night, after folding my
clothes, and departs. Leaving the incandescent light burning over my
head, I open the book dealing with the wonders of America which I have
taken from the well-stocked library, and read of great Americans, from
Washington to the man who has brought this very light to such
perfection, turning over page after page of well-nigh incredible
description of the country which has raised the system of "booming" to a
high art, till my brain reels with an Arabian Nightish flavour of
exaggeration, and turning off the electric current, I am gradually
lulled to sleep by the rhythmical vibrations of the steamer, the sole
reminder that I am in reality sleeping upon a ship and about to enjoy a
thorough week's rest.

I awoke from the dreams in which I had pictured myself a veritable
Columbus, and drawing aside the blind of my porthole, I looked out into
the morning light, and was, perhaps, for a second surprised to see land.
"Sandy Hook already! Can it be?" Well, hardly, just at present. Though
who can tell but that in another fifty years it may be possible in the
time? It is in reality the "Ould Counthry," and we are nearing
Queenstown.

There is a good muster at breakfast, and everyone is smiling, having had
at least one good night's rest on the voyage. The waters skirting the
Irish coast sometimes outdo the fury of the broad Atlantic, and are
generally just as troubled and combatant as the fiery political elements
on the little island; but so far we have had a perfect passage, and the
beautiful bay of Queenstown looks more charming than ever as the engines
stop for a short period before their five days' incessant activity to
follow.

Not only the ship, but the doctor, comes from the Emerald Isle. Who
crossing the Atlantic does not know the witty Dr.----? "Ah, shure, me
darlin', and isn't it himself that's a broth av a bhoy?" And so he is,
simply bubbling over with humour and good-nature. Presiding at one end
of the long table, I have to pa