“One bright September morning I started upon my eventful journey.  Your uncle Barnes drove me in a buggy to Buffalo, a distance of three days at that time.  At this city—­the first large one that I had ever seen, my brother left me in charge of a party going through, as he supposed, to New York.  Then ensued two weeks upon a canal boat; very slow travelling you children would consider it, accustomed as you are to whirling over the country in an express train; but at my romantic age, this dreamy, delicious style of boat travel was the perfection of happiness.

“At Rochester my friends left me, first placing me under the care of the captain of the canal-boat, who promised to put me upon the steamboat when we should reach Albany.

“The prospect of the day to be spent upon the Hudson possessed no charms for me, but on the contrary, untold terror.  I had never before seen a steamboat, but they had been introduced upon Lake Erie, near enough to my home for me to hear, with alarm, of all the accidents that had so far befallen them upon that very turbulent sheet of water; consequently, I embarked upon the ‘Washington,’ in the full conviction that I was about to meet with my doom.

“All that day I sat motionless in a corner of the promenade deck, reading my Bible.  Perfectly oblivious alike to the magnificent scenery that I was passing, and to the elegant toilettes such as my country-bred eyes had never before beheld, by which I was surrounded; I neither spoke to nor looked at any one, nor dared to leave my seat even to go to dinner; but endeavored to gain, from the sacred volume in my hands, strength for the terrible fate that I was confident awaited me.  I have often since wondered what my fellow-travellers thought of the still, shy little figure whose eyes were never once lifted from her Bible.

“About four o’clock a terrible explosion was heard, the boat was thrown violently upon her side, and a scene of confusion, shrieks, and fainting-fits then ensued.  I did not faint—­I was much too alarmed for that; I merely turned very white, and trembled from head to foot.  The wheel-house had been blown away, I learnt before long, but no one fortunately was injured, and after a delay of an hour or so the boat was righted, and we proceeded upon our journey, at a snail’s pace, however.

“Owing to the accident, we did not reach New York until ten o’clock.  No one was at the pier to meet me, for brother had supposed that I would arrive before sunset.  As I did not appear, however, he concluded that I had not left Albany at the time appointed.  But my adventures of the day were not yet over.  I secured a cab, and drove to the address he had given me, 123 Hudson Street, which in 1836 was by no means the plebeian locality it is at present, but a fashionable street, devoted exclusively to elegant residences.  Upon inquiring for Mr. Greeley, my consternation was great to learn that although he had looked at rooms in that house, he