hours: to wit, breakfast at seven, dinner at one, and supper at
sunset.
The beauty and freshness of this calm retreat, in the very dawn and
greenness of summer – it was then the beginning of June – were
exquisite indeed. Leaving it upon the sixth, and returning to New
York, to embark for England on the succeeding day, I was glad to
think that among the last memorable beauties which had glided past
us, and softened in the bright perspective, were those whose
pictures, traced by no common hand, are fresh in most men’s minds;
not easily to grow old, or fade beneath the dust of Time: the
Kaatskill Mountains, Sleepy Hollow, and the Tappaan Zee.
CHAPTER XVI – THE PASSAGE HOME
Page 147
Dickens, Charles – American Notes for General Circulation
I NEVER had so much interest before, and very likely I shall never
have so much interest again, in the state of the wind, as on the
long-looked-for morning of Tuesday the Seventh of June. Some
nautical authority had told me a day or two previous, ‘anything
with west in it, will do;’ so when I darted out of bed at daylight,
and throwing up the window, was saluted by a lively breeze from the
north-west which had sprung up in the night, it came upon me so
freshly, rustling with so many happy associations, that I conceived
upon the spot a special regard for all airs blowing from that
quarter of the compass, which I shall cherish, I dare say, until my
own wind has breathed its last frail puff, and withdrawn itself for
ever from the mortal calendar.
The pilot had not been slow to take advantage of this favourable
weather, and the ship which yesterday had been in such a crowded
dock that she might have retired from trade for good and all, for
any chance she seemed to have of going to sea, was now full sixteen
miles away. A gallant sight she was, when we, fast gaining on her
in a steamboat, saw her in the distance riding at anchor: her tall
masts pointing up in graceful lines against the sky, and every rope
and spar expressed in delicate and thread-like outline: gallant,
too, when, we being all aboard, the anchor came up to the sturdy
chorus ‘Cheerily men, oh cheerily!’ and she followed proudly in the
towing steamboat’s wake: but bravest and most gallant of all, when
the tow-rope being cast adrift, the canvas fluttered from her
masts, and spreading her white wings she soared away upon her free
and solitary course.
In the after cabin we were only fifteen passengers in all, and the
greater part were from Canada, where some of us had known each
other. The night was rough and squally, so were the next two days,
but they flew by quickly, and we were soon as cheerful and snug a
party, with an honest, manly-hearted captain at our head, as ever
came to the resolution of being mutually agreeable, on land or
water.
We breakfasted at eight, lunched at twelve, dined at three, and
took our tea at half-past seven. We had abundance of amusements,
and dinner was not the least among them: firstly, for its own
sake; secondly, because of its extraordinary length: its duration,
inclusive of all the long pauses between the courses, being seldom
less than two hours and a half; which was a subject of neverfailing
entertainment. By way of beguiling the tediousness of
these banquets, a select association was formed at the lower end of
the table, below the mast, to whose distinguished president modesty
forbids me to make any further allusion, which, being a very
hilarious and jovial institution, was (prejudice apart) in high
favour with the rest of the community, and particularly with a
black steward, who lived for three weeks in a broad grin at the
marvellous humour of these incorporated worthies.
Then, we had chess for those who played it, whist, cribbage, books,
backgammon, and shovelboard. In all weathers, fair or foul, calm
or windy, we were every one on deck, walking up and down in pairs,
lying in the boats, leaning over the side, or chatting in a lazy