Part 7. - Next arrived a boat from the newspaper office of the Courier and Inquirer, whose agent would not hear of dinner, or any other delay, but shouldered his bag of news, ...

Next arrived a boat from the newspaper office of the Courier and Inquirer, whose agent would not hear of dinner, or any other delay, but shouldered his bag of news, got the list of our names, and was off. – The American passengers, all by this time good friends of mine, came to show me, with much mirth, paragraphs in the newspapers the pilot had brought, exhorting their readers not to chew tobacco or praise themselves in my presence, under penalty of being reported of in London for these national foibles.

After dinner, we were off Sandy Hook, and the hills of New Jersey, Long Island, and Staten Island were growing purple in the cloudy sunset, when a small, shabby steam–boat was seen emerging from the Narrows. O, the speculations and breathless suspense as to whether she was coming to us! In a few minutes, there remained no further doubt. Then there was a rush to the side, and one of the young ladies saw through her tears her two brothers, and other passengers other relations showing themselves on the bows of the steamer. They presently boarded us, we strangers having all retired to the other side. I never liked introductions better than those which followed. With broad smiles my passenger friends came up, saying, “I have the great pleasure of introducing to you my brother.”

“I am sure you will be glad to hear that my family are all well.” These are occasions when sympathy is very sweet, and when it is always ready.

Then was heard the captain's loudest voice, crying, “All who wish to go up to the city to–night, get ready directly.” We had all previously agreed how much better it was that we should spend this night on board, as the harbour would be seen to much advantage by the morning light: but we forgot all this in a moment, and nobody dreamed of being left behind. Our little bundles were made up in a trice, and we quitted our ship. The crew and steerage passengers assembled on deck, and gave us three parting cheers, which might be heard all over the harbour. Our gentlemen returned them, and our hearts yearned towards our beautiful ship, as she sat dark upon the evening waters, with all her sails majestically spread.

“Does she not look well now?”

“Does she not show herself beautifully now?” exclaimed one and another, in the hearing of the gratified captain.

The light was failing as we entered the Narrows . The captain and several other friends pointed out to me every headland, bay, and fortification as we passed. –We were detained a long while at the quarantine ground. The doctor was three miles off, and nearly an hour elapsed before the great news reached him that we were all quite well, and we were therefore allowed to proceed. It now rained heavily, and we were obliged to crowd into the small cabin of the poorest steamer in the bay. There, by the light of one dim and dirty lamp, was the question first asked me in joke, which has since been repeated in so many moods, “How do you like America ?” The weather cleared up in another half hour. We stood in the dark on the wet deck, watching the yellow lights and shadowy buildings of the shore we were rapidly nearing, till we felt the expected shock, and jumped upon the wharf amidst the warm welcomes of many friends, who, in their own joy at alighting on their native shore, did not forget to make it at once a home to us strangers.

This was at eight in the evening of the 19th of September, 1834, after a long but agreeable voyage of forty–two days.