AN OCTOBEE ABEOAD 135 



Amidst the tossing and rolling, the groaning of 

 penitent travelers, and the laboring of the vessel as 

 she climbed those dark unstable mountains, my 

 mind reverted feebly to Huxley's statement, that the 

 bottom of this sea, for over a thousand miles, pre- 

 sents to the eye of science a vast chalk plain, over 

 which one might drive as over a floor, and I tried 

 to solace myseK by dwelling upon the spectacle of a 

 solitary traveler whipping up his steed across it. 

 The imaginary rattle of his wagon was like the 

 sound of lutes and harps, and I would rather have 

 clung to his axletree than been rocked in the best 

 berth in the ship. 



On the tenth day, about four o'clock in the after- 

 noon, we sighted Ireland. The ship came up from 

 behind the horizon, where for so many days she had 

 been buffeting with the winds and the waves, but 

 had never lost the clew, bearing straight as an arrow 

 for the mark. I think, if she had been aimed at a 

 fair-sized artillery target, she would have crossed 

 the ocean and struck the bull's-eye. 



In Ireland, instead of an emerald isle rising out 

 of the sea, I beheld a succession of cold, purplish 

 mountains, stretching along the northeastern horizon, 

 but I am bound to say that no tints of bloom or ver- 

 dure were ever half so welcome to me as were those 

 dark, heather- clad ranges. It is a feeling which a 

 man can have but once in his life, when he first sets 

 eyes upon a foreign land; and in my case, to this 



