assengers in unwonted finery, tall hats and unearthly
bonnets, and one in a black silk gown, are running about forward,
shaking hands, gathering up boxes and bundles, and pressing towards the
side which the tender has reached. There are the shouting of orders, the
throwing of a rope, and in a moment they are crowding the plank. One
long cheer, echoed from the stern of our steamer, and they are off.

All day we walked the deck; even the sick crawled up at last to see the
panorama. We still lingered when night fell, and we had turned away from
the land to strike across the channel, and the picture rests with me
now; the purple sky with one long stretch of purple, hazy cloud, behind
which the sun went down; the long, low line of purple rock, our last
glimpse of Ireland, and the shining, purple sea, with not a ripple upon
its surface.

CHAPTER II.

FIRST DAYS IN ENGLAND.

Up the harbor of Liverpool.--We all emerge as
butterflies.--The Mersey tender.--Lot's
wife.--"Any tobacco?"--"Names, please."--St.
George's Hall.--The fashionable promenade.--The
coffee-room.--The military man who showed the
purple tide of war in his face.--The railway
carriage.--The young man with hair all
aflame.--English villages.--London.--No place for
us.--The H. house.--The Babes in the Wood.--The
party from the country.--We are taken in charge by
the Good Man.--The Golden Cross.--Solitary
confinement.--Mrs. B.'s at last.

WE steamed up the harbor of Liverpool the next morning. New Brighton,
with its green terraces, its Chinese-pagoda villas, spread out upon one
side, upon the other that solid wall of docks, the barricade that breaks
the constant charges of the sea, with the masts of ships from every land
for an abattis. The wraps and shapeless garments worn so long were laid
aside; the pretty hood which had, like charity, covered so many sins of
omission, hidden, itself, at last, the soft wool stiffened with the sea
spray, the bright colors dimmed by smoke, and soot, and burning sun. We
crept shyly upon the deck in our unaccustomed finery, as though called
at a moment's notice to play another woman's part, half-learned. Not in
us alone was the transformation. The girl in blue had blossomed into a
bell--a blue bell. The Cattle Man, his hands released at last from the
thraldom of his pockets, stalked about, funereal, i