Fernando’s trunk was packed, and he sat on the door-step in his best clothes awaiting the appearance of the stage.  At last the rumbling thunder of wheels rolling over the great bridge smote his ears, and a few moments later the vehicle came up to the gate.  The six prancing horses were drawn up, and the vehicle stopped, while the driver cried: 

“All aboard!”

Sukey was in the stage, his dark eyes half closed.  He roused himself to drawl out: 

“Come on, Fernando, we’re off now, for sure.”

While two farm hands, assisted by the driver, placed the trunk in the boot, Fernando bade father and mother adieu.  Sister had come over with her husband and the baby.  His brother with his young wife were present to bid the young seekers after knowledge adieu.  They followed Fernando to the stage coach and cried: 

“Good bye, Sukey! take good care of Fernando!” and Sukey drawled out: 

“Who’ll take keer o’ me?”

The last good bye’s were said, and the great stage coach rolled on.  The impressions of the young frontiersmen on approaching the first town were strange and indescribable.  The number of houses and streets quite confused them.  There seemed to be little or no order in the construction of streets, and everybody seemed in a bustle and confusion.  They stopped over night at a tavern, and at early dawn the stage horn awoke them, and after a hasty breakfast they were again on their journey.

Several weeks were spent in traveling from town to town, and on September 1st, 1807, they found themselves in New York City, still undecided where they would go.

One morning Fernando went for his usual walk toward the river, when a large crowd of people at the wharf attracted his attention.  Drawing near, he saw a curious-looking boat on the water, the like of which he had never seen before.  It was one hundred feet long, twelve feet wide and seven feet deep.  There was a staff or mast at the bow, another at the stern.  From a tall chimney there issued volumes of smoke, while from a smaller pipe there came the hissing of boiling water and white steam.  Two great, naked paddle-wheels were on the boat, one on each side near the middle.  Fernando thought this must be the toy of which he had heard so much, being constructed by Robert Fulton and Chancellor Livingston.  On one side of the boat was painted the name Clermont.

“What is that?” Fernando asked of a rollicking, fun-loving young Irishman about twenty-two or three years of age, who stood near.

“Faith, sir, it’s a steamboat.  We have all come to see her launched.  They call her the Clermont; but it’s mesilf as thinks she ought to be Fulton’s Folly, for divil a bit do I believe she’ll go a cable’s length.”

Fernando and his new acquaintance drew nearer.  The hissing of the steam and the roaring of the furnaces were fearful.

“Do you know Robert Fulton?” Fernando asked.