e United
States never, in their declining years, beheld the good ship
Markerstown, it was only from lack of wholesome curiosity.

This pleasing list of attractions was wont to make an occasional
trip--should I not rather say saunter?--to the New-World Levant, the
Yankee Eoethen. The time consumed was theoretically a day and a half,
but practically a day or two longer. Tired as I was of the sluttish
land, the clean sea had an inviting look. Dusty car and ringing rail
wore no Circean graces, when the long-haired mermaid, decked in robes of
comely green, looked out from her bower beneath the waves, and beckoned
me to come. What more welcome than her sea-green home? What sight finer
than the myriad diamond-sparkles in her eye? What sound sweeter than the
murmurs of her soothing, never-ceasing voice? What perfume so rare as
the crisp fragrance breathing from her robes? What so thrilling, so
magnetically ecstatic, as her tumultuous heaving, and the lithe,
undulating buoyancy of her mazy footfalls?

It is proper to state here, as an act of justice to others, and to save
myself from the charge of lunacy, that the Markerstown was a mere
interloper. Our covetous, good old uncle had set his eye on the regular
steamer of the line, and his greedy fingers had taken her away to Dixie,
where her decks were now swarming with blue coats and black heels. The
peaceful Markerstown, being exempt by reason of physical
disqualifications, tarried behind as home-guard substitute for her
warlike sister. Ignorant of the change, I secured my passage, paid for
my ticket, sent down my trunks, and presented myself at the gangway one
sweltering afternoon in the latter part of June, a few minutes before
the hour set for sailing. There was nothing in the aspect of things to
indicate a speedy departure. On the contrary, the tardy craft had just
arrived, and was intensely busy in letting off steam and discharging
cargo. The mate was quite sure--and so was I--that she wouldn't weigh
anchor before early next morning. The prospect was not enrapturing.
Confusion, dirt, pandemoniac noise, long delay, and over all a
blistering sun, were ill suited to bring peace to the embezzled seeker
after pleasure.

As a relief from the horrid din on deck, I made my way to the cabin. It
was a place well named, being cabined, cribbed, confined, in quite an
unprecedented degree. It was then and there that I first saw the subject
of this sketch,--the Peptic Martyr. Unknowingl