generally been fortunate in the weather, and always in
the company; but I can easily conceive, that a man situated
as Mr. Slick appears to have been with respect to both,
would find the combination intolerably dull. But to return
to my narrative.

Early on the following day we accompanied our luggage to
the wharf, where a small steamer lay to convey us to the
usual anchorage ground of the packets, in the bay. We
were attended by a large concourse of people. The piety,
learning, unaffected simplicity, and kind disposition of
my excellent friend, Mr. Hopewell, were well known and
fully appreciated by the people of New York, who were
anxious to testify their respect for his virtues, and
their sympathy for his unmerited persecution, by a personal
escort and a cordial farewell.

"Are all those people going with us, Sam?" said he; "how
pleasant it will be to have so many old friends on board,
won't it?"

"No, Sir," said the Attache, "they are only a goin' to
see you on board--it is a mark of respect to you. They
will go down to the "Tyler," to take their last farewell
of you."

"Well, that's kind now, ain't it?" he replied. "I suppose
they thought I would feel kinder dull and melancholy
like, on leaving my native land this way; and I must say
I don't feel jist altogether right neither. Ever so many