their way, but not sufficiently attractive to induce us to make their
acquaintance. We observed a dead silence as to who we were, where we were
going, or what was the motive of our emigrating to America. The only
person that we ever spoke to was a Mr. R. from Hamburg, a youth of
nineteen, who, like ourselves, had left a happy home in order to try his
strength in a strange land. The voyage was of forty-seven days' duration;
excessively stormy, but otherwise very dull, like all voyages of this
kind; and, had it not been for the expectations that filled our hearts, we
should have died of _ennui_. As it was, the days passed slowly, made worse
by the inevitable sea-sickness of our fellow-passengers; and we longed for
the hour that should bring us in sight of the shores of the New World. And
now commences _my life in America_.

"Dear Marie, best Marie! make haste to come upon deck to see America! Oh,
how pleasant it is to see the green trees again! How brightly the sun is
gilding the land you are seeking,--the land of freedom!" With such
childlike exclamations of delight, my sister Anna burst into my cabin to
hasten my appearance on deck on the morning of the 22d of May, 1853. The
beautiful child of nineteen summers was only conscious of a heart
overflowing with pleasure at the sight of the charming landscape that
opened before her eyes after a tedious voyage of forty-seven days upon the
ocean. We had reached the quarantine at Staten Island. The captain, the
old pilot, every one, gazed at her as she danced joyously about the deck,
with a mingled feeling of sadness and curiosity; for our reserve while on
shipboard had surrounded us with a sort of mystery which none knew how to
unravel.

As soon as I had dressed for going on shore, and had packed up the things
that we had used on our voyage, in order that they might not be stolen
during this time of excitement, I obeyed the last call of my impatient