hour ahead of us, and we heard the frantic ringing of her last bell warning everybody to get on shore who was not going to cross the ocean. Then the great steamer backed slowly out from her wharf.
Of course all of us who were going on the Arrowic were warm champions of that ship as the crack ocean racer; but, as the Dartonia moved backward with slow, stately majesty, all her colors flying, and her decks black with passengers crowding to the rail and gazing toward us, we could not deny that she was a splendid vessel, and "even the ranks of Tuscany could scarce forbear a cheer." Once out in the stream her twin screws enabled her to turn around almost without the help of tugs, and just as our last bell was ringing she moved off down the bay. Then we backed slowly out in the same fashion, and, although we had not the advantage of seeing ourselves, we saw a great sight on the wharf, which was covered with people, ringing with cheers, and white with the flutter of handkerchiefs.
As we headed down stream the day began to get rather thick. It had been gloomy all morning, and by the time we reached the statue of Liberty in was so foggy that one could hardly see three boats' length ahead or behind. All eyes were strained to catch a glimpse of the Dartonia, but nothing of her was visible. Shortly after, the fog came down in
