In reference to my visit, of 1861, so far as my personal journeyings were concerned, I will merely transcribe a few letters sent home.
"STEAMSHIP 'PERSIA'
"(in the Gulf of St. Lawrence),
"Sunday noon.
"I have not had a pen in hand for a week—not since I wrote just as we were coming to Cork.
"Just now the weather is as like that of last Sunday as one pea is to another—rain and mist—mist and rain! Yet we have, on the whole, had wonderful weather—little sea—little wind—little of anything very unpleasant—nothing unbearable.
"Our church-service is just over: the Captain reads prayers and a sermon, and does it very well: the sailors are dressed in their best, and behave with great decorum, but show some sleepiness: the day is wet, and that, and the general devoutness, draws a large congregation, —indeed, the cabin is full.
"And now for a long letter:—
"When I left off, before, we were coming to Cork. It was blowing and raining, and the atmosphere was thick with mist. We went on till six. Captain looked anxious—the Cork pilot bothered, the passengers ill- tempered, and everything had a dismal dampness about it. At last we stopped, and the big boilers sent out their steam through the waste pipe with a loud roar. Around us was nothing but mist—the, to me, nastiest form of fog. We could not see more than three times the length of the ship. We tried the lead twice, and the second time got soundings. We then fired a gun—then another—then a third. Then we moved on—then stopped—then moved on. The Captain sent for his chart, and put on his eye-glasses. The pilot stared out into the fog, and pointed first in one direction, then in another. All no use. We knew we ought to be outside the Queenstown harbour—but we could see nothing. At last we heard a gun, and then in quick succession appeared a row boat and a steam tug with the passengers and mails; and, the mist breaking a little, we saw the land right a-head of us, about half-a- mile off. It was disagreeable, but it got over; and now came the transfer of bags, luggage, and passengers—only two or three of the latter. The tug came alongside and made fast, but there was a good deal of swell, and as she bobbed up and down it became highly amusing to see the crew and passengers scramble up the ladder, which sometimes was perpendicular, and at other times almost flat, as it followed the altering level of the tug. The ladder got broken—two or three ropes snapped—a deal of profane swearing took place—but it got over, too.
"The tug brought the news—the Confederates had defeated the Federal forces at Manasses Junction—three thousand killed and wounded— prisoners taken—artillery captured, &c., &c. I went up to one of the Misses Preston and hoped the news was happy—for she seemed delighted at what she had heard, and which then I had not. She said she 'did not quite know—it was for the South.' I replied that such news hardly could be happy for both sides, and, unless the news were peace, was unhappy for all the world. She did not quite agree—and then told me the tidings. But what a strange effect in such a little ship- confined community!
"The Southern people collected together in delight—the Northern in anger and disgust. The former predicted an early possession of Washington for the Palmetto flag; the latter talked of raising half-a- million of men, and 'crushing out' the South, right amain; while, as in any disaster, there is always someone to be blamed, many of the Northern men laid all the responsibility upon the 'lawyer-generals' and 'store-keeping-colonels,' who had assumed commands for which they were never fit. It is a sad, unhappy quarrel!
"But I must describe our circle to you. First, I should tell you that I
have the honor to sit at the Captain's table, and on his left hand—a
Miss Ewart sitting on his right. Our set consists of the Captain,
Judkins—the right and left-hand passengers as aforesaid—Col. Preston,
Mrs. Preston and the three Misses Preston.