University of Virginia Library

LAND.

It was a fine sunny morning when the thrilling cry of
“land!” was given from the mast head. None but
those who have experienced it, can form an idea of the
delicious throng of sensations which rush into an American's
bosom, when he first comes in sight of Europe.
There is a volume of associations with the very name.
It is the land of promise, teeming with every thing of
which his childhood has heard, or on which his studious
years have pondered.

From that time until the moment of arrival, it was
all feverish excitement. The ships of war, that prowled
like guardian giants along the coast; the headlands of
Ireland, stretching out into the channel; the Welsh mountains,
towering into the clouds; all were objects of intense
interest. As we sailed up the Mersey, I reconnoitred
the shores with a telescope. My eye dwelt with delight
on neat cottages, with their trim shrubberies and green
grass plots. I saw the mouldering ruin of an abbey

overrun with ivy, and the taper spire of a village church
rising from the brow of a neighbouring hill—all were
characteristic of England.

The tide and wind were so favourable, that the ship
was enabled to come at once to the pier. It was thronged
with people; some idle lookers-on, others eager expectants
of friends or relatives. I could distinguish the merchant
to whom the ship was consigned. I knew him by
his calculating brow and restless air. His hands were
thrust into his pockets; he was whistling thoughtfully,
and walking to and fro, a small space having been
accorded him by the crowd, in deference to his temporary
importance. There were repeated cheerings and salutations
interchanged between the shore and ship, as friends
happened to recognize each other. I particularly noticed
one young woman of humble dress, but interesting demeanour.
She was leaning forward from among the
crowd; her eye hurried over the ship as it neared the
shore, to catch some wished-for countenance. She seemed
disappointed and agitated; when I heard a faint voice
call her name.—It was from a poor sailor, who had been
ill all the voyage, and had excited the sympathy of every
one on board. When the weather was fine, his messmates
had spread a mattress for him on deck in the shade,
but of late his illness had so increased, that he had taken
to his hammock, and only breathed a wish that he might
see his wife before he died. He had been helped on deck
as we came up the river, and was now leaning against
the shrouds, with a countenance so wasted, so pale, so
ghastly, that it was no wonder even the eye of affection
did not recognize him. But at the sound of his
voice, her eye darted on his features; it read, at once, a
whole volume of sorrow; she clasped her hands, uttered
a faint shriek, and stood wringing them in silent agony.