rward of the wheelhouse, because it was a few
feet nearer New Jersey than the aft part. The rush to obtain these
preferred places was like that of the opera-going world for the front
row of boxes at a _matinee_. Ladies who obtained eligible seats, settled
themselves in them, spread out their dresses, put their gloved hands in
position, and smiled with a sweet satisfaction at ladies who had got no
seats. Those ladies, in turn, looked reproachfully at the gentlemen who
were comfortably seated. And those gentlemen, with the exception of a
few who rose and gracefully offered their seats to the youngest and
prettiest of the ladies, in turn looked out of the windows, or at the
floor, or at a paper, intently.

A stranger to the ferry boats and customs of the country would have
supposed that the passengers were bound for Europe instead of the
opposite shore of North River.

Marcus Wilkeson, Times, and Patching did not participate in this contest
for seats, but walked through the fetid and stifling cabins to the
forward deck, where fresh, bracing air, glorious sunlight, and a cheery
view of the river were to be had. But these charms of nature were
apparently thrown away on the trio. They all leaned over the railing,
and, looked steadily into the water. Times was thinking up his lecture,
and other matters of the panorama. Patching was misanthropically
reviewing his career, and exulting in future triumphs over his
professional enemies. Marcus was engrossed with some sad theme which,
once or twice, brought tears into his eyes. A burst of noble music, a
fine sentiment in a poem, a poor woman crying, keen personal
disappointment, or any acute mental trouble, had this strange effect on
the optics of Marcus Wilkeson.

The bell rang; voices shouted, "All aboard!" the gangplank was drawn in;
several belated people jumped on, at the risk of their lives, after the
boat had left the wharf, one man vaulting over ten feet; and the voyage
for Jersey was commenced.

Three minutes later, the inmates of the cabins began to go forward and
pick favorable positions for jumping off on the other side. The scramble
to evacuate the seats then was as sharp as the scramble to possess them,
three minutes before. A few more rounds of the wheels, and the boat
thumped in the usual way against one row of piles at the entrance of the
Jersey slip, and then caromed like a billiard ball on the other, each
time nearly knocking the passengers off their feet, and