Alboni, she said,--
"Father, we are going home."
Her words fell upon the ear of an officer of the ship, a gentleman of
that nobleness of soul which alone constitutes a true man; one whose
kind and gentlemanly consideration of the comfort and pleasure of those
who have, from time to time, crossed that three thousand miles of ocean
which separates Liverpool from New York, have before been publicly
mentioned, and will long be remembered by those who have before come
under his guidance. "We are going home,"--the officer raised his hat as
he passed the Sea-flower, involuntarily repeating her words,--words
which many times have been idly spoken, but how full of meaning.
As that gallant steamship made her way over the rolling billows, like
"a thing of life," as if indeed she recognized the course o'er which she
had so many times borne aloft her proud head, in seasons of tempest as
well as of sunshine, there was not one who walked her decks, but looked
upon her gigantic form as an ark of safety, rather than the frail plank
which only separated not far from three hundred immortal beings from an
ocean grave. Several days' sail left "merrie England" far behind, and as
they drew nearer the American shores, many an eye was deluded with the
belief that it had been the successful one, in being the first to make
the outline of the nearest shore of this land of the free.
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