ACROSS THE ATLANTIC IN MID-WINTER.

Still, I

THE Ocean-going steamers, those wonderful pioneers of commerce and civilization, have brought England and America so close together, that the respective nations know almost as much of each others manners and customs as if only a narow strait separated the two countries, instead of thousands of miles of tumbling waters, now calm and glowing in the sunlight, now convulsed and heaving in giant billows. venture to think, there are very many in both of these great countries to whom much in the other is not only unfamiliar, but positively unknown. Many Americans of education and culture, whose eyes have not been opened by travel, are quite hazy in their notions with regard to the men, manners, and politics of England, and I am bound to say that an equal amount of prejudice and ignorance exists among English people, with regard to cousin Jonathan, and the vast acres under the flag of the stars and stripes. I am not so ambitious as to endeavour to combat with the prevailing ideas of my countrymen in so large a field as this, but as my preconceptions and prejudices, in many respects, have been thoroughly annihilated by experience, I feel that I can fill a few pages with a narration, disjointed and uninteresting as it may be, of what I have seen and heard while in the land of "big" things.

The typical voyage across the Atlantic, so vividly and humorously described by Dickens in his "American Notes," is anything but a description of the voyage now. It is true that no enterprising genius has yet found a remedy for sea-sickness, although sundry efforts have been made to get rid of this bugbear of sea-travel. An attempt was made by some large-souled individual, only a short time back, to grapple with the mal-de-mer fiend, by an arrangement in which a swinging hammock formed an important part; and he induced one of the Cunard captains, under whose protecting and kindly command I had the pleasure of sailing, to give it a trial. The captain told me that he had it rigged up in his state-room, and, on the first night after passing Sandy Hook that the ship unmistakably pitched and tossed, he determined to test it by sleeping in it himself. Alas! though he had sailed the briny deep for many years, and his experience of sea-sickness was long ago forgotten, he found, after an hour or two in this marvellous invention, that the long-forgotten symptoms were returning again in a most disagreeable manner, and he gladly resigned the patent berth for his own familiar couch. Determined to give the arrangement a fair trial, he concealed his experience and offered the doctor and one of the other officers the privilege of sleeping in the new invention. These gentlemen also concealed their sentiments, but never cared to accept a second invitation

of the same kind. One must, therefore, make up his mind to a little discomfort of the inward man; it is one of the tributes which the ocean exacts from the presumptious ones who cross its ample bosom, and must be borne with resignation. Still, with this drawback, an Atlantic voyage at any season has much that is pleasurable, and, if one has anything of the Mark Tapley in his disposition, he will feel a tinge of regret at leaving the good ship which has borne him so swiftly and so comfortably across the watery waste.

My experience was most enjoyable notwithstanding all that the elements did to disturb our equanamity. A genial captain and pleasant fellow-passengers made the time pass very quickly and smoothly, and I can look back to the passage with recollections of much quiet enjoyment. We, who are accustomed to the leaden sky, and the cloud-obscured sun of a great town, have a keen appreciation of a clear bright day, and I was certainly put in good humour towards American institutions when sailing in a calm sea in the bosom of Massachusetts bay, I saw overhead a sky purely blue, dotted here and there with fleecy clouds, whilst the sun darted down his warm rays, which the low temperature rendered most acceptable. I was, indeed, almost converted to a belief in American superiority, when, by-and-bye, the sun went down in a scene of brilliancy such as I had hardly ever witnessed before. My impressions will perhaps be best described by the following verses, if I may be so bold as to interpolate them :

Far away in the distant West

The sun sank down in his Ocean bed,
His couch with gorgeous crimson dressed,
Cloud-canopied o'er with blushing red.
We stood on the deck and watched the light,
While it shimmered and died away,
And the still touch of the tranquil night
Brought the close of the tranquil day.
Then from a rift in the lambent sky
There darted a lustrous beam;

Coyly the moon looked down from on high,
The stars shed a diamond gleam-

While over the waters of the peaceful bay,

To the golden West, the good ship sailed away.

Fanuary 2nd, 1881,

It was a glorious morning when we slowly steamed into Boston harbour. One of the lady passengers, who was returning to her home at the "hub of the Universe"-as "The City" is called (sometimes fondly and often satirically)-kindly pointed out to me Bunker's Hill, and narrated sundry passages in the History of the War of Independence; and presently we were running the blockade of the Custom House I have no reason to feel kindly and charitably towards that department of the American civil service, but I must admit that on this occasion, beyond two or three hours detention, I had nothing to complain of as regards civility or red-tapeism.

I had been told that Boston was very like an English town, and if an arrangement of streets so that a stranger may go round his hotel three

or four times without finding it, constitutes this similarity, certainly a strong likeness exists; but beyond this there is every evidence to a stranger of his being far from home. Not that Boston is not more like an English town than New York, Philadelphia or Washington, but I should imagine this simply arises from the streets in the last named city being laid out on the square, and not from any English proclivities on the part of the citizens. I found the people kind and hospitable. They told me they were very fond of abusing Britishers, but they reserved to themselves the right of doing so, and did not allow other people to exercise this privilege. At Boston, I was first initiated into the mysteries of "coasting "—an amusement of a fascinating character to young America. It consists in riding face downward on a tiny sledge down a slippery slope some one or two hundred yards in length. A pathway in Boston Common, as their park is called, was given up to this delight, and all day long there was a throng of juveniles to participate in it, and of seniors to admire.

The sleigh-bells rang merrily in the streets, and the foot passengers bustled along quickly, as they well may, when the thermometer registers five or ten degrees below Zero at noon.

How New Englanders revel in Oysters! Long may the day be distant when these luscious bivalves become as scarce in America as they are in Britain's less favoured isles. I do not think any Englishman could write about America without dwelling tenderly and pathetically on his memories of" Oysters in every style." And then the turkeys! or turkey and oysters combined! These dishes would bring tears to the eyes of a gourmand, and cause him to feel a joy which no words at his command could express.

It seems strange to an English diner, however, to find the first dish which is set before him, as a matter of course, to be "apple sass," but the astonishment is transferred to the waiter when he sees the guest partake of cheese in the English way; and American waiters are not at all reticent in expressing their feelings on any subject which may call for remark. I will not mention the American breakfast, which, for variety, is like a Lord Mayor's banquet, lest I should appear to be dwelling too much on matters which pertain to our bodily sustenance.

To visit an American Theatre is a treat. American Managers consider the comfort of their audience, and do not heighten the enjoyment of a play by packing people like herrings in a barrel. A French actress, not unknown in England, was drawing a great crowd at one of the Boston Theatres, having been gratuitously advertised by popular clergymen, by their denunciations from the pulpit. Such is Fame! English companies and English plays were popular everywhere, a proof that English humour is keenly appreciated.

It is an American saying that New York people say of a stranger, "How much is he worth?" Chicago people "How good looking is he?" and Boston people "How much does he know?" Certainly there is more show of wealth, and more apparent hurry to get rich at New York than exists at Boston, although most of the comparisons which can be drawn are in favour of the former town-the "boss" City.

Admirably situated as New York is, and possessing such thriving busy people, it has certainly a mighty future. To form an idea of its size and position, one cannot do better than take a view of it from the Equitable Insurance building-a large block in Broadway-to the roof of which one is conveyed rapidly and easily by an elevator. Then, all at once, a beautiful and busy scene is presented to the admiring gaze. Overhead, an azure sky, without a speck to mar its beauty; below, the snow-covered roofs of the city, stretching right and left, and then, far away North, as the eye can reach on either hand, beyond the roofs, shine the icecovered waters of the Hudson and East rivers, crowded with shipping. Beyond these shining streaks are the houses of Brooklyn and Jersey City; and stretching towards the former, the unfinished piers of Brooklyn Bridge. To the South, the snow-covered Staten Island, and the blue waters which stretch out to meet the broad ocean. So clear is the air, and so little defiled by smoke, that the eye can discern far distant objects, and even decipher a sign in the distant Jersey City! Busy throngs line the streets below, which are crowded with vehicles of all kinds, and the cars on the elevated railroads rush along their several avenues, laden with a freight of bustling human life.

With all these advantages, New York is not perfect. There is much to be desired in its drainage arrangements; and in spite of what nature has done to make a good drainage easy diptheria and typhoid fever, to say nothing of diseases of a milder type, are very prevalent. Still, a great stride has been made in one important direction. A good supply of water, so necessary to the health of a great community, is procured in plenty from Croton, forty miles distant.

No stranger can visit New York without speaking of New York and Brooklyn preachers. Beecher and Talmage, Collyer and Adler, have each their host of admiring devotees, but they have been so often held up to admiration, or the reverse, that I need not dilate upon their merits or shortcomings.

It is delightful to take a walk along the New York streets when a thaw takes place. Then, the American heart must expand with joy, at the contemplation of the impotence of the street-cleaning bureau to cleanse the pathways and roads. I can justly say, that nothing is more disgraceful to a great town than the filthy condition of the streets of New York. For days together, whenever a frost subsides, they are all but impassable. Broadway, and Fifth Avenue, the City and outlying districts, are alike in this respect, slushy mud covers paths and crossings ankle deep, and makes locomotion exceedingly disagreeable. The newspapers make a great outcry, and nobody concerned takes any notice whatever. People say the officials of the City Government are too busy making their fortunes to attend to such every-day matters, and I am afraid this sarcastic allusion has some foundation; for, in conversing with an intelligent New Yorker, I was told the reason he did not vote for the Democrats but preferred to adopt the "Republican Ticket." "You see," said he, "The Democrats have not been in office for twenty years, so that the

Republicans have had time to feather their nests, and now only require to be kept going. If we elect the Democrats, we should have to go over the same ground again, which would be a great expense to the country!"

I

Fires are one of the greatest institutions of the United States. suppose the dryness of the climate is responsible for a good deal; and conflagrations have become so frequent that people are quite callous with respect to them, but so long as many men, women, and children are not burnt up at one time, they take little heed of a blaze. Just at the time of writing I saw a whole row of five-storeyed houses in a mass of flame from cellar to roof, and I have myself had the unpleasant experience of being burnt out of an hotel. It was on a Sunday morning, when the cold outside was intense, that I was aroused from a sound sleep by unusual noises beneath my window, which looked out on Broadway. When the hour is 5 a.m., and the day has not commenced to break, one is not so curious to learn what is going on as at other times, and if my rcom had not been so full of smoke that I could not see across it, I should probably not have taken the trouble to rise. But, on looking out of the window, and seeing two or three steam fire-engines working directly beneath it, lit up by a glow which came from somewhere particularly near, I rapidly arrived at the conclusion that I had better leave my quarters as soon as possible; so, securing the most valuable of my belongings, and hastily dressing, I opened the door of my room for this purpose, when a dense mass of smoke, sweeping along the corridor, burst upon me and almost suffocated me. I now began to feel real alarm, the more so, as I found myself the only tenant of the floor I was on (which was one of the upper ones), so far as I could judge from the open doors all around, and from the fact that my "halloes" met with no response. A horrible thought flashed across my mind. I am a sound sleeper, and I concluded that I must have slept through the general alarm which had roused all my neighbours, while they had reached a place of safety long ago. Crouching down close to the ground, and feeling my way along the wall-for I could not see it-I gained the great staircase, where the smoke was thick and warm, and slowly descended, expecting every moment to hear the roar of the flames and see them erect a barrier to my further downward progress. Happily, however, the staircase was untouched, and I at length reached the last floor where were gathered the inmates of the hotel in every stage of deshabille and alarm. A few yards away, a handsomely furnished room, 60 feet by 110 feet, was in a mass of flames, and the bedroom, above it (dangerously near mine), were sharing the same fate. The firemen were busy, seven steamers being at work, but it seemed as though the flames were defying their efforts, and that the whole block of buildings-a very large one, was shortly to be destroyed. I gained the street, at that hour free from a crowd, and saw how extensive the flames were. Through the roof a blaze shot up high towards the sky, lighting all around with a fearful glow, and eclipsing the grey light of dawn which began to grow faint. By-and-bye, however, the fire-engines triumphed the flames were