“Yes, dear,” rejoined her husband; “and what is more, there always will be.  Our folks in Georgia are not waked up yet; and when they do arouse themselves from their slumber, it will be too late.  But we don’t see half the shipping from here—­this is only one side of the city—­there is much more on the other.  Look over there,” continued he, pointing to Jersey city,—­“that is where we take the cars for Philadelphia; and if we get up to dock in three or four hours, we shall be in time for the mid-day train.”

In less time than they anticipated they were alongside the wharf; the trunks were brought up, and all things for present use were safely packed together and despatched, under the steward’s care, to the office of the railroad.

Mr. and Mrs. Garie, after bidding good-bye to the captain, followed with the children, who were thrown into a great state of excitement by the noise and bustle of the crowded thoroughfare.

“How this whirl and confusion distracts me,” said Mrs. Garie, looking out of the carriage-window.  “I hope Philadelphia is not as noisy a place as this.”

“Oh, no,” replied Mr. Garie; “it is one of the most quiet and clean cities in the world, whilst this is the noisiest and dirtiest.  I always hurry out of New York; it is to me such a disagreeable place, with its extortionate hackmen and filthy streets.”

On arriving at the little steamer in which they crossed the ferry, they found it about to start, and therefore had to hurry on board with all possible speed.

Under the circumstances, the hackman felt that it would be flying in the face of Providence if he did not extort a large fare, and he therefore charged an extravagant price.  Mr. Garie paid him, as he had no time to parley, and barely succeeded in slipping a douceur into the steward’s hand, when the boat pushed off from the pier.

In a few moments they had crossed the river, and were soon comfortably seated in the cars whirling over the track to Philadelphia.

As the conductor came through to examine the tickets, he paused for a moment before Mrs. Garie and the children.  As he passed on, his assistant inquired, “Isn’t that a nigger?”

“Yes, a half-white one,” was the reply.

“Why don’t you order her out, then?—­she has no business to ride in here,” continued the first speaker.

“I guess we had better let her alone,” suggested the conductor, “particularly as no one has complained; and there might be a row if she turned out to be the nurse to those children.  The whole party are Southerners, that’s clear; and these Southerners are mighty touchy about their niggers sometimes, and kick and cut like the devil about them.  I guess we had better let her alone, unless some one complains about her being there.”

As they drove through the streets of Philadelphia on the way to their new home, Mrs. Garie gave rent to many expressions of delight at the appearance of the city.  “Oh, what a sweet place! everything is so bright and fresh-looking; why the pavement and doorsteps look as if they were cleaned twice a day.  Just look at that house, how spotless it is; I hope ours resembles that.  Ours is a new house, is it not?” she inquired.  “Not entirely; it has been occupied before, but only for a short time, I believe,” was her husband’s reply.