all gainsayers; yet now,
they are either found inapt or are forgotten wholly, until, after a
paltry show of defence, braggart Philosophy fairly takes to his heels,
and leaves us abandoned to the will of old mother Nature. Now, indeed,
arrives the tug; and I, for my part, pity the man who, however savagely
resolute, does not feel and own her power. The adieus of those one loves
are, at best,--that is, for the shortest absence,--sufficiently
unpleasant; but when there lie years, and, to the eye of affection,
dangers, in the way of the next meeting, as the old Scotch ballad has
it, "O but it is sair to part!" I should, I confess, were I free to
choose, prefer the ignominy of cowardly flight, to the greatest triumph
firmness ever yet achieved, and be constrained to hear and respond to
that last long "good-b'ye!"

As I honestly own that, for various good reasons, I set out with the
intention of keeping such a close record of my feelings and doings as my
errant habits might permit, with the premeditated design also of giving
them to that public which from the beginning had decided that I should
do so, I concluded there was nothing like an early start; and finding
these thoughts preface, or rather commence, my journal, so do I give
them like precedence here.

SAILING DAY.

Liverpool, Tuesday, July 16th, 1833.

I am not usually very particular about dates; but, as there is an odd
coincidence connected with the 16th, I desire to note it. On this day,
then, about 3 P.M. I was rumbled from Bold-street down to St. George's
Dock, accompanied by a few friends, who were resolute to extend their
kindness to the latest limit time and tide, those unyielding agents,
might allow.

Arrived at the ship's side, I found a number of my own poor countrymen,
_agricultural speculators_, filling up a leisure moment before seeking
harvest, in seeing "Who in the world was going to America, all that
way," with which country there are now few of the humbler class of Irish
but have some intimate associations. Disposing amongst _the boys_ the
few shillings I had left in my pocket, I jumped on board the packet-ship
Europe, without cross or coin, saving only a couple of luck-pennies, the
one an American gold eagle, the present of an amiable gentlewoman; the
other a crooked sixpence, suspended by a crimson ribbon, the offering of
a fair "maid of the inn," given to me on the very eve of sailing-day
with many kind wishes, all of which hav