The day of parting at length arrived.  It was a bright and lovely morning, about the middle of April, when I said goodbye to all my playmates at the old home, took a last look at the guns and fishing-rods, visited the various animals in the stables, gave a loving embrace to the great Newfoundland Juno, whom I could not hope to see again, submitted to be blessed and kissed by the servants and labourers, who had assembled to see me off, and took my seat on the car with my father, mother, and eldest brother, for the railway station, where C——­ was to meet us.

C——­ and I went direct to Liverpool from Drogheda, to which place my eldest brother accompanied us.  My father and mother, having business en route, were to meet us there on the following day.

We had a rough passage to Liverpool, and the steamer was laden with cattle and pigs, the stench from which, combined with sea-sickness, was, I recollect, a terrible experience, and it was in no enviable condition of mind or body we arrived at the Liverpool Docks on a foggy, wet and dismal morning.  My mercantile brother, Tom, came on board, and had all our belongings speedily conveyed to the lodgings we were to occupy during our stay.  On the following day my father and mother arrived, and we spent a few days pleasantly seeing the lions of the great city and visiting friends.  On arrival at London we found that we had a week or more before the ship sailed.  Neither my father nor mother had been in London before; all was as new to them as to us, and we made the best of the time at our disposal.

On the evening of the day before the ship sailed, after seeing our luggage on board, and cabins made ready for occupation, we accompanied my father, mother, and brother to Euston Station, where they were to bid us God-speed.  I was in good spirits till then, but when on the railway platform, a few minutes before the train started, my dear mother fairly broke down, and the tears were stealing down my father’s cheeks.  The less said about such partings the better; it was soon over, and the train started.  I never saw my dear old father again.

C——­ and I, after watching the train disappear, started for the docks, and before bed-time had made acquaintance with some of our future compagnons de voyage.

The scene on deck was confusing and affecting.  Upwards of four hundred emigrants were on board, and the partings from their friends and relatives, the kissings and blessings and cryings, mingled with the shouting of sailors, hauling in of cargo and luggage, and general noise and confusion incident to starting upon a long voyage, continued without intermission until we were fairly under weigh about 11 o’clock at night.

After the unusual exertion and excitement of the day, we both slept soundly, and when we awoke next morning, off Gravesend, we were disappointed at having missed the “Great Eastern,” lately launched and then lying in the river.