CHAPTER XXVI.
MY FIRST VISIT TO AMERICA.—MY MOTHER, JOHN O’MAHONY, THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER, ROBERT E. KELLY, AND HIS SON HORACE R. KELLY, MICHAEL CORCORAN, P. J. DOWNING, P. J. CONDON, WILLIAM O’SHEA, AND MICHAEL O’BRIEN THE MANCHESTER MARTYR.
On a fine sunny morning in the month of May I found myself on board the City of Edinburgh steamer, steaming into the harbor of New York.
She stopped while the quarantine doctor came on board to make examinations as to the state of her health.
Gazing around from the deck of the ship, the scenery was grand—the hills of Staten Island looking as gay and green as the hills of Ireland. John Locke’s words, in address to the Cove of Cork, may be addressed to Clifton:
And Clifton isn’t it grand you look
Watching the wild waves’ motion.
Resting your back up against the hill,
With the tips of your toes in the ocean—