We detached ourselves from the sailing-vessel; but, with all the power of steam, we could scarcely get along.  At last the “monster’s” bellowing was hushed,—­the tremor ceased,—­we were there!  But how to get ashore was still a difficulty.  It was about 100 yards off.  Planks, however, were eventually placed so as to enable us to descend from our lofty “tug” into a ship at anchor, from that into another, from that again into a third, and from that at length on terra firma.

The hour was between 7 and 8 p.m.; and we were taken to a ship-chandler’s store, while our kind captain went to get a chaise for us.  The store was closed; but the owner and three other gentlemen were there, seated before a comfortable coal fire, apparently enjoying themselves after the business of the day.  They received us very courteously, and gave us chairs by the fireside.  The storm of that day they told us had done much harm to the shipping, and was severer than any other they had experienced during the last seven years.  While the conversation was going on, plash made one, plash made another, plash made a third, by spurting a certain brownish secretion on the floor!  I had often heard of this as an American habit, but always thought our cousins in this matter (as in many others) were caricatured.  Here, however, was the actual fact, and that in the presence of a lady!  Yet these were apparently very respectable men.

Having waited about a quarter of an hour, anxiously listening for the rumbling of the expected wheels, I heard in the distance a strange kind of noise, resembling that of a fire-shovel, a pair of tongs, a poker, and an iron hoop tied loosely together with a string, and drawn over the pavement!  “What in the world is that?” said I.  “It is the chaise,” was the answer.  The vehicle was quickly at the door.  In we were bundled, and orders given to drive us to the “St. Charles’s.”  We scarcely knew what this “St. Charles’s” was; but, as all with whom we had conversed seemed to take it for granted that we should go thither, and as any one saint was to us as good as any other, we echoed, “To the St. Charles’s.”  And now began such a course of jolting as we had never before experienced.  It seemed as if all the gutters and splash-holes in the universe had been collected together, and we had to drive over the whole.  This continued about half an hour, by which we learned that we were at first much further from the “St. Charles’s” than we supposed.  The machine at last stopped, and we alighted, thankful to have escaped a complete stoppage of our breath.