Rollo on the Atlantic. Abbott Jacob

of a bowl of bread and milk for each, was very portable; and they had accordingly gone down to their stone seat to eat it, as they often did on pleasant summer evenings. The stone seat was in such a position that the setting sun shone very cheerily upon it. On this occasion, Rollo had finished his milk, and was just going down to the brook by a little path which led that way, in order to see if there were any fishes in the water; while Jane was giving the last spoonful of her milk to their kitten. On the stone near where Jane was sitting was a small birdcage. This cage was one which Jane used to put her kitten in. The kitten was of a mottled color, which gave to its fur somewhat the appearance of spots; and so Jane called the little puss her tiger. As it was obviously proper that a tiger should be kept in a cage, Jane had taken a canary birdcage, which she found one day in the garret, and had used it to put the kitten in. As she took the precaution never to keep the prisoner shut up long at a time, and as she almost always fed it in the cage, the kitten generally made no objections to going in whenever Jane desired it.

      "Here comes uncle George," said Rollo.

      Jane was so busy pouring the spoonful of milk through the bars of the cage into a little shallow basin, which she kept for the purpose within, that she could not look up.

      "He is coming down through the garden," added Rollo; "and he has got a letter in his hand. It's from mother, I know."

      So saying, Rollo began to caper about with delight, and then ran off to meet his uncle. Jane finished the work of pouring out the milk as soon as possible, and then followed him. They soon came back again, however, accompanying their uncle, and conducting him to the stone seat, where the children sat down to hear the letter.

      "Rollo," said Mr. George, "how should you like to go to England?"

      "To go to England?" said Rollo, in a tone of exultation; "very much indeed."

      "Should you dare to go alone?" said Mr. George; "that is, with nobody to take care of you?"

      "Yes, indeed!" said Rollo, emphatically. "I should not need any body to take care of me."

      "I don't know but you will have to go," said Mr. George; "and not only take care of yourself, but of Jane besides."

      "Why, am I to go too?" asked Jane. As she said this, she began to look quite alarmed.

      "How should you like the plan?" said Mr. George.

      "O, I should not dare to go," said Jane, shaking her head with a very serious air. "I should not dare to go at all, unless I had somebody to take care of me bigger than Rollo."

      "Ha!" exclaimed Rollo, "I could take care of you perfectly well. I could buy the tickets and show you down to supper, and help you over the plank at the landings, and every thing else."

      Rollo's experience of steamer life had been confined to trips on Long Island Sound, or up and down the Hudson River.

      "I suppose you would be dreadfully sick on the way," said Mr. George.

      "O, no," said Rollo, "I should not be sick. What's the use of being sick? Besides, I never am sick in a steamboat."

      "No," said Jane, shaking her head and looking quite anxious; "I should not dare to go with you at all. I should not dare to go unless my mother were here to go with me; or my father, at least."

      "I am afraid you will have to go," said Mr. George, "whether you are afraid to or not."

      "That I shall have to go?" repeated Jane.

      "Yes," replied Mr. George. "Your father has written me that he is not well enough to come home, and I am to send you and Rollo out in the next steamer. So that you see you have nothing to say or to do about it. All you have to do is to submit to destiny."

      Jane did not know very precisely what was meant by the phrase, submitting to destiny; but she understood very well that, in this case, it meant that she must go to England to join her father and mother, whether she liked the plan or not. She was silent a moment, and looked very thoughtful. She then put forth her hand to her kitten, which was just at that moment coming out of the cage, having finished drinking the milk which she had put there for it, and took it into her lap, saying at the same time,—

      "Well, then I will go; only you must let me take my Tiger with me."

      "That you can do," said Mr. George. "I am very willing to compromise the matter with you in that way. You can take Tiger with you, if you choose."

      "And the cage too?" said Jane, putting her hand upon the ring at the top of it.

      "Yes," said Mr. George, "and the cage too."

      "Well!" said Jane, speaking in a tone of great satisfaction and joyousness, "then I will go. Get into the cage, Tiger, and we'll go and get ready."

      The steamer was to sail in about a week from this time. So Mr. George proceeded immediately to New York to engage passage. When Rollo's aunt, who had had the care of him and Jane during the absence of Mr. and Mrs. Holiday, heard how soon the steamer would sail, she said that she did not think that that would afford time enough to get the children ready.

      "O, it takes no time," said Mr. George, "to get people ready to go to Europe. Put into a trunk plenty of plain common clothing for the voyage, and the work is done. As for the rest, people can generally find pretty much every thing they want on the other side."

      Mr. George went to New York to engage the passage for the children. And inasmuch as many of the readers of this book who reside in the country may never have had the opportunity of witnessing the arrangements connected with Atlantic steamers, they may perhaps like to know how this was done. In the first place, it was necessary to get a permit to go on board the ship. The crowds of people in New York, who are always going to and fro, are so great, and the interest felt in these great steamships is so strong, that if every body were allowed free access and egress to them, the decks and cabins of the vessels would be always in confusion. So they build a barricade across the great pier at which the ships lie, with ponderous gates, one large one for carts and carriages, and another smaller one for people on foot, opening through it, and no one is admitted without a ticket. Mr. George went to the office in Wall Street and procured such a ticket, which one of the clerks in attendance there gave him, on his saying that he wished to go on board to select a state room for some passengers.

      Provided with this ticket, Mr. George took an omnibus at Wall Street and rode up to Canal Street. At Canal Street he took another omnibus, which carried him nearly to the East River. There he left the omnibus, and proceeded the rest of the way on foot. The crowd of people on the sidewalks going and coming, and of carts, drays, wagons, and coaches in the street, was immense. There was one crossing where, for some time, Mr. George could not get over, so innumerable and closely wedged together were the vehicles of all descriptions that occupied the way. There were many people that were stopped with him on the sidewalk. Among them was a servant girl, with a little boy under her charge, whom she was leading by the hand. The girl looked very anxious, not knowing how to get across the street.

      "Let me carry the child across for you," said Mr. George.

      So saying he took the child up gently, but quickly, in his arms, and watching a momentary opening in the stream of carriages, he pressed through, the servant girl following him. He set the boy down upon the sidewalk. The girl said that she was very much obliged to him, indeed; and then Mr. George went on.

      Just then a small and ragged boy held out his hand, and with a most woe-begone expression of countenance and a piteous tone of voice, begged Mr. George to give him a few pennies, to keep him from starving. Mr. George took no notice of him, but passed on. A moment afterward he turned round to look at the boy again. He saw him take a top out of his pocket, and go to spinning it upon the sidewalk, and then, suddenly seeing some other boys, the young rogue caught up his top and ran after them with shouts of great hilarity and glee. He was an impostor; Mr. George knew this when he refused to give him any money.

      Mr. George then went on again. He came, at length, to the great gates which led to the pier. There was a man just within the gate, walking to and fro, near the door of a sort of office, or lodge, which he kept there. Mr. George attempted to open the gate.

      "Please show your ticket, sir," said he.

      Mr.