Ship Chariot of Fame ~ Our project of a tour in Europe was hastily made two weeks ago; on account (on my part) of increasing ill health and need of relaxation from the labor of a clerkship in a dry goods commission house. Mary has not been well and thought the change of air and scene might benefit her, besides, of course, anticipating much pleasure from foreign travel; while of course my little wife, always ready for a “spree”, was doubly so for one of such a magnitude. Everything combined to make our way clear before us, and here we are a party of four on board the Chariot of Fame, a noble ship of 2000 tons, at sea and bound for Liverpool. I have spoken of three of our party the fourth is Mrs. Alice Watts – we feel as if we know her very well, having past a year under the same roof, and trust that quarter “familiarity” will not breed contempt on either side. We missed the cars this morning which were to carry us in to Boston from Savin Hill, and were forced to take Pa Little’s old carryall and drive in town where we joined Alice at the depot of the Old Colony railway, and as it was too early for carriages there, we four drove, with baggage, to the ship in our carryall, and must have looked very like an Irish family moving, or a Neapolitan turnout. Poor Mother bid us goodbye at Saven Hill with a tear or two and Grandmother says she never expects to see us again (the prevailing tune, by the way, of the last five years at every parting). They bore it, on the whole, much better than could have been expected considering that Mother was trusting to the ocean her all for an absence of perhaps a year. We felt very badly at parting with her, she has to look forward to a long, and perhaps lonely winter in Schenectady. William Codman, Mr. Foster, Mr. Watts, and others went to the limits of the harbor with us in the towboat “Rescue” which carried us out, and as the waving of their handkerchiefs disappeared in the distance, the last material link seemed broken that bound us to our American relatives and friends, but I hope their hearts will be with us on the watery way that is opening before us and I am sure ours will often revisit home and follow them in their daily occupations.
The day is cloudy, the wind unfavorable, being light and from the North East, so that we are close hauled and moving slowly. We have 150 steerage passengers on board, most of them paupers sent home to Ireland by the state. They are grouped forward, among the sailors, and present quite and picturesque appearance. The vessel is covered with flags of the sailors’ songs, being a novelty, sound very pleasantly to our landlubber ears. I doubt if we see any harbor more beautiful than this, with its little islands, its frowning fort, its fine shipping etc. We can detect no motion (up and down) in our vessel, although fairly out at sea, she lays upon the water like a great leviathan, slowly edging Eastward. It seems impossible to us that she could ever be the “sport of the waves.” Our cabin passengers are Mr. and Mrs. Prof. Treadwell, Dr. Spooner, young Shelton, Mrs. Ashendon and children, Dr. Gallup surgeon of the ship and of course Capt. Knowles, our commander. We left the wharf this morning at ten o’clock and now, at ten at night have a lee shore in plain sight. Mary and Alice have a stateroom together next to ours.
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