tter mailed just before the ship left the dock. We
sailed down the Thames River into the Channel, and at sundown the white
chalk cliffs of Dover were far astern. That was the last time I ever saw
the coast of England.

The Rhine had a large number of steerage passengers on board. Men,
women, and children were all huddled together between decks. They all
got sea-sick, and it is a wonder that none of them died. The filth and
stench were terrible. The crew were a tough lot, being mostly old
"packet rats," as they are termed. They would stay on shore until their
advance money was all spent, then they would have to ship. They would
steal all of their clothing from their more provident shipmates. My bag
had been searched, but it only set them wondering as to who I was, with
all the old rags and the two grape-shot. In just one month's time we
sighted Sandy Hook, New York. The passengers were all on deck, getting
their first glimpse of America, and were all glad that the voyage was so
nearly ended. The twin lighthouses of the Highlands of Navesink were in
plain view; below them was a famous summer resort for New Yorkers. As I
stood on that deck watching the beautiful scenery, a dirty, ragged suit
of sailor's clothes on my back, not a cent of money in my pockets, had a
fortune-teller then said to me--"See that hotel on the beach? One year
from now you will be staying there as a guest, and paying twenty-five
dollars a week for your accommodation. You will be the best-dressed
young man in the house and wearing diamond jewelry, with the waiters
eager to wait upon you, as you are very liberal in giving tips. And
Matilda, the proprietor's daughter, will be your betrothed wife"--I
should have laughed at the idea; but it all happened so in reality.

As we sailed through the Narrows it became my turn to steer the ship;
the captain and pilot standing close to me conversing, I heard the pilot
say that the docks were crowded with ships, and that the Rhine would
have to remain anchored in the bay a week before docking. The captain
replied that it would give them a good opportunity to have all the
rigging tarred. Now, hearing that conversation nearly cost me my life.
Tarring a ship's rigging is about the hardest work and the dirtiest job
imaginable, and, besides, the hands and finger-nails are dyed a
dark-brown colour which remains for weeks. None of that work for me
just then! As the anchor dropped, my duty at the wheel was ended. The
boar