resses she needed, reply, "Oh, yes! I was oppressed with a
constant sense of guilt, when packing, to see how much I had, while so
many girls have nothing decent to wear."

More than half a century has rolled by since I stood on Irish soil, and
shed tears of pity for the wretchedness I saw, and no change for the
better has as yet come to that unhappy people--yet this was the land of
Burke, Grattan, Shiel, and Emmett; the land into which Christianity was
introduced in the fifth century, St. Patrick being the chief apostle of
the new faith. In the sixth century Ireland sent forth missionaries from
her monasteries to convert Great Britain and the nations of Northern
Europe. From the eighth to the twelfth century Irish scholars held an
enviable reputation. In fact, Ireland was the center of learning at one
time. The arts, too, were cultivated by her people; and the round
towers, still pointed out to travelers, are believed to be the remains
of the architecture of the tenth century. The ruin of Ireland must be
traced to other causes than the character of the people or the Catholic
religion. Historians give us facts showing English oppressions
sufficient to destroy any nation.

The short, dark days of November intensified, in my eyes, the gloomy
prospects of that people, and made the change to the _Sirius_ of the
Cunard Line, the first regular Atlantic steamship to cross the ocean,
most enjoyable. Once on the boundless ocean, one sees no beggars, no
signs of human misery, no crumbling ruins of vast cathedral walls, no
records of the downfall of mighty nations, no trace, even, of the mortal
agony of the innumerable host buried beneath her bosom. Byron truly
says:

"Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow--
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now."

When we embarked on the _Sirius_, we had grave doubts as to our safety
and the probability of our reaching the other side, as we did not feel
that ocean steamers had yet been fairly tried. But, after a passage of
eighteen days, eleven hours, and fifteen minutes, we reached Boston,
having spent six hours at Halifax. We little thought that the steamer
_Sirius_ of fifty years ago would ever develop into the magnificent
floating palaces of to-day--three times as large and three times as
swift. In spite of the steamer, however, we had a cold, rough, dreary
voyage, and I have no pleasant memories connected with it. Our
fellow-passengers were all in their staterooms