II. 

 tlbe 1FU0bt>!lLi0bts of tbe Sea. 



IT is a calm, clear night, this, on which the good 

 ship Adelaide lies at Parkeston Quay, Harwich, 

 blowing off her superfluous energy in the shape of 

 clouds of steam, while waiting for the Rotterdam 

 contingent of passengers, who are being hurried 

 down at sixty miles an hour speed from Liverpool 

 Street. Presently, there is a flash of light seen now 

 and then along the fen-sides which mark the near 

 approach to Harwich, and with a muffled roar the 

 great engine, followed by a goodly array of carriages, 

 comes to rest under the full glare of the electric 

 lights of the station. Then the carriage-doors open, 

 and the vehicles belch forth their crowds, who hurry 

 down the wooden slope to the quay-side. 



Forward go the passengers for the " Ankwork's 

 package," as Mrs. Gamp named the prototype of the 

 fine Antwerp steamer of to-day. The Rotterdam 

 boat lies aft on the quay. As I step on board and 

 survey that crescent moon overhead, which a short 

 time before at Claygate, in the garden of Surrey, 

 was a full orb, and, as I contemplate the still clouds 

 and the calm sea, I prophesy an even keel for the 

 Adelaide on her coming voyage to the land of dykes. 

 In truth, it is a lovely night; and when we have 



