Another wonderful instance of British conservatism is the way in which we have stuck to the horrors of our own ferry-boat system long after America has shown us the way to cross a ferry comfortably.  It is true that the American steam ferry-boats are not so graceful as ours, looking as they do like Noah’s arks or floating houses, and being propelled by the grotesque daddy-long-leg-like arrangement of the walking-beam engine.  They are, however, far more suitable for their purpose.  The steamer as originally developed was, I take it, intended for long (or at any rate longish) voyages, and was built as far as possible on the lines of a sailing-vessel.  The conservative John Bull never thought of modifying this shape, even when he adopted the steamboat for ferries such as that across the Mersey from Liverpool to Birkenhead.  He still retained the sea-going form, and passengers had either to remain on a lofty deck, exposed to the full fury of the elements, or dive down into the stuffy depths of an unattractive cabin.  As soon, however, as Brother Jonathan’s keen brain had to concern itself with the problem, he saw the topsy-turvyness of this arrangement.  Hence in his ferry-boats there are no “underground” cabins, no exasperating flights of steps.  We enter the ferry-house and wait comfortably under shelter till the boat approaches its “slip,” which it does end on.  The disembarking passengers depart by one passage, and as soon as they have all left the boat we enter by another.  A roadway and two side-walks correspond to these divisions on the boat, which we enter on the level we are to retain for the passage.  In the middle is the gangway for vehicles, to the right and left are the cabins for “ladies” and “gentlemen,” each running almost the whole length of the boat.  There is a small piece of open deck at each end, and those who wish may ascend to an upper deck.  These long-drawn-out cabins are simply but suitably furnished with seats like those in a tramway-car or American railway-carriage.  The boat retraces its course without turning round, as it is a “double-ender.”  On reaching the other side of the river we simply walk out of the boat as we should out of a house on the street-level.  The tidal difficulty is met by making the landing-stage a floating one, and of such length that the angle it forms with terra firma is never inconvenient.

A Swiss friend of mine, whose ocean steamer landed him on the New Jersey shore of the North River, actually entered the cabin of the ferry-boat under the impression that it was a waiting-room on shore.  The boat slipped away so quietly that he did not discover his mistake until he had reached the New York side of the river; and then there was no more astonished man on the whole continent!