DEAR WILLIAM, We reached Queenstown last night, and I wish you were here this morning. I would tell you what a pleasant voyage we had, since you left us a week ago this morning ; what a splendid great ship this is, and how McVickar and I have rattled round in our little stateroom. I preached last Sunday, and we had an entertainment last night for the Liverpool Seamen’s Home. I presided, and Lawrence Barrett read ” Horatius,” and girls and boys sang songs. ” William,” our old steward of the Scythia, is on this boat, and waits on James. The Captain never speaks to anybody ; we have four hundred and fifty passengers, are awfully over-crowded, and have to dine in two batches. It is all delightful and confused, and as funny as an ocean voyage always is.
But you are not here, so I will not try to tell you all this, but we have really had a most remarkable voyage.
I think we are likely next week to turn our steps southward and spend the summer in southern France and northern Italy, with perhaps a run into northern Spain. Richardson will probably join us there, and architecture be the main interest of the tour. But art, life, and scenery shall not be forgotten. You shall hear all about it.
Did Gertie get the list of passengers I sent her? I thought she would see a good many names that she knew, and would be interested in knowing who my companions were. James has just passed by, pacing the deck with jocund tread, and sends his love.
It was good of you and Mary to come and see us off. I think you are both very good to me all the time, and to think of your goodness will be one of my greatest joys this long year. P.