The Steam-Packet: A Tale of the River and the Ocean — page 317: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

244 THE STEAM PACKET. spreading and furling are ever to him the signal of joy or of sorrow, are once more wide extended ;—every spot is white with the bellying dra- pery ; the sea foams beneath the bow, and the vessel bounds merrily towards the land. But, ah! whither away so fast? In our enthusiasm we are pursuing the track of the gallant ship we apostrophised, and forgetting that our own Steam Vessel is proceeding on its calm and placid way—unmenaced by breakers, fearless of sunken rocks, and scarcely disturbed in its level equilibrium as it moves gracefully along upon the ocean’s tranquil bosom. How beautiful is her progress—how symmetrical seems her shape as she glides over the deep! Her track is marked on the watery plain by a long line of surf; and the only billows near her are those raised by her own enormous wheels, which seem to strike the breast of ‘old Father Neptune with a power which nothing can resist. On- ward she goes—bearing with her happy hearts; and from her deck the sounds of exulting music sweep far over the waters. The awning is spread; and the gentle breeze, circulating freely beneath, attempers the influence of the gorgeous sun, which, in its noon-day splendour, irradiates the vast expanse of ocean all around. And now the gentlemen on board were most polite, and the ladies most amiable ;.and the conversation flowed unrestrainedly and blithely all around. Captain Pentonville was most attentive upon Miss Ara- mintha; Mr. Buckram paid his devowrs especially to Miss Belinda; and Mr. Smale was constantly by the side of Miss Sarah. Byron, romps, and music, respectively, furnished subjects for discourse; and at length when those were exhausted, recitations, anecdotes, and riddles, became the order of the morning. Were we to stop the narrative to detail all the little deviations from truth committed by the captain and the soz-disant nobleman—all the unsophisticated questions put by Mr. Smale—and all the instances of credulity evinced by the amiable family of the Pifpafs, we should keep the reader waiting until his pa- tience was exhausted. We cannot, however, pass over a poem, which Miss Aramintha repeated, after much solicitation, with great taste and feeling (so her gallant lover, at least, declared). This she al- leged to be a translation from the German; and although she did not precisely state that it was her pen which had rendered the ode into English verse, she did not deny the soft imputation, when her lover observed, “Ah! Mintha, dear, we all know to whose talents we are indebted for the English reading of those charming stanzas!” Gomicbooks (E{0)