THE STEAMBOAT. DELAWARE.--NEWCASTLE.--RAILROAD.--FRENCH-TOWN.--ELK RIVER.--NORTH POINT.--BAY OF CHESAPEAKE.--BALTIMORE.

Quitting one of these great seaports by the ordinary conveyance of steamboat, early on a fine winter morning, is at once an amusing and interesting event.

Hastily summoned by your servant, who, himself not over early, bustles up to your bedside with "Just five minutes after six o'clock, sir," you start from a slumber that has been for some time back uneasy enough, broken up by visions of steamboats, locomotives, canvass-back ducks, Nott's stoves, and crowded cabin-tables.

At the first shake out you jump, well aware how peremptory is the steamer's bell above all other belles,—make hasty toilet, and bustle into the hall, where a few half-burned candles yet outface the daylight; and here you find a dozen newly-awakened miserables like yourself, equipped for some steamer.

The waiter inquires if you would like a cup of coffee, which as a matter of course you accept; and, hurrying after him into the next room, you are yet in the act of blowing and sipping your Mocha, which for once you find sufficiently hot, when a friend pops his head in to say that the baggage-cart is off, and your latest second of time come. Remedy there is none; a delay of one minute is fatal, since no timekeeper is so punctual as an American steamer anywhere north of the Potomac.

Out you trudge, great-coated, muffled up in fur and shawl, to find the street silent and untrodden, except by a straggler or twain bending their steps hurriedly towards Chestnut. As you turn out of South-third into this great thoroughfare you observe an immediate change; the stragglers preceding you have mingled with the main current, and are quickly confounded amidst a confused jumble of men, women, and children, carts, coaches, and wheelbarrows, pressing in long columns of march down towards the Delaware.

In the distance may be seen, curling from below, wavy pillars of dense black smoke, intermingled with vicious-looking lines of thin whitish vapour, which rush through and tower high over the more sluggish smoke with a savage, hissing sound that almost drowns the bell, now tolling a last summons.

The wharf is gained: here lie the boats side by side, one going north, the other south: they are surrounded by a crowd,—friends making hasty adieus; porters, of all shades of colour, hurrying to and fro, aiding, scrambling, and squabbling, with the important air and ceaseless loquacity everywhere characteristic of the African race.

Amidst this motley throng the unoccupied and observant man will easily pick out many individuals of gaunt outline, a bilious aspect and a staid sober demeanour, each carrying a small valise, a carpet-bag, a long Boston coat or cloak, and steadily and deliberately making a straight course for the common bourne, unaided and unaiding, self-sustained, independent, and, each for himself alone.

At length, after a few last hasty bangs, the heavy bell clappers cease to move; the porters quit the luggage-cars and spring nimbly ashore; the independent gentlemen dispose of their kits, each after the fashion and on the spot he "judges" most convenient; the hissing sound of escaping steam suddenly stops, and this momentary silence is succeeded by the quick motion of the paddle-wheels.

The vicious-looking columns of white vapour melt away; wheeling majestically about, the huge boats steadily head towards their opposite courses, and, in the next moment, are rushing, like unslipped greyhounds, through the smooth waters of the Delaware.

And now occasionally arrive discoveries, at once whimsical and amusing to all save the sufferers. A lady with her children going South, for instance, finds out that her husband, or her carriage and horses, one or both, have gotten by mistake aboard the New York boat, and are off back again to the North: perhaps you get a glimpse of the miserable biped in question, like a waterman, looking one way and going the other. Without great care, these little accidents will occur, as I can vouch for; as the lines depart full drive at the same instant, stopping is out of the question; and the disunion of a day, at least, is the consequence of one moment's delay or mistake.

Our way lies downward, and the long line of quays is dashed by like lightning. You have just time to mark, well pleased, the early activity of the numerous little steamers plying to and fro between Camden and the city ferries. You cast perchance a rambling glance over those pretty villages, above which the ruddy hue of morning is serenely spreading, and, even as you gaze, behold them melt away in the river's haze.

The Navy-yard, with the huge wooden mansions built to shelter the "Pennsylvania" and a neighbour frigate, glide, as it were, hastily by; and nothing remains to break the monotony of the long level lines skirting the river, and hardly rising above it.

Of this prospect the eye soon becomes weary, and now is the time to look upon your fellow-passengers. You descend from the upper or promenade deck, which, if the morning be chilly, you have most likely held in sole occupation. On the next deck beneath, seated back to back upon long ranges of settees, you behold the female portion of the living freight; for, I take it for granted, this is the first direction of your regards, and a pleasant task it often turns out to be; for, as I have already said, and shall probably yet more strongly confirm hereafter, the average of female beauty in America is high, and but few women are without those always striking points, fine expressive brows and eyes, which, shaded by a tasteful bonnet, and accompanied by a certain coquettish air, leave little wanting to ensure the admiration of the passing stranger.

Having lounged about here for a turn or two, you find yourself reminded of a certain indispensable ceremony by a Stentor-lunged black, who most perseveringly vociferates, "Gentlemen who have not yet paid, will please step to the captain's office and settle their passage."

At your convenience you obey this gentle hint; securing at the same time a ticket for breakfast, now becoming a very important consideration, assailed by a good natural appetite, sharpened in the shrewd air of a clear, cold morning. At last, ring goes the bell; and the deck, already thinned of the more anxious, or more provident, of the party, becomes, at that magic tinkle, a desert.

On descending the stair, you perceive two long ranges of table thickly bestrewn with dishes containing beefsteak, ham, fish, chicken, game, omelettes,—together with hot rolls, cakes, and bread of every other form and denomination, with tea and coffee, borne about as called for; the whole arranged with an attention to neatness and propriety quite surprising when you consider the place, and the difficulties which are inseparable from having to cater and cook for such a multitude.

If you are not of an active habit, or if you object to remain stewing in the cabin for a time waiting on the event, you observe at a glance that, ample as the tables appear, every seat is occupied. Here is no reservation of places—possession is your only admitted right, and, were the President himself too late, he must sit out, or be admitted of the party on courtesy: of this, however, let me add, it never was my chance to perceive any lack. One of the black waiters, recognising you for a frequent passenger, is touched by your appealing glance, motions you to follow him, advancing at the same time a stool with an insinuating air between two goodhumoured-looking men, with "Please, make a little room for this gentleman."

A niche is readily conceded; and, casting an eye right, left, or straightforward, you can hardly fail to find something to your liking. The board is soon clear of the "Rapids,"—a large family in most such places; and now you acquire ample space to prove your prowess in.

Having breakfasted, you once more mount the upper deck and breathe the pure air of heaven, unpolluted by that unpleasant gas which escapes from the iron coal burnt in the cabin stoves. Such at least was my constant habit: the natives, I observed, although accustomed to a climate whose vicissitudes are extreme, never appear voluntarily to face the cold, but for the most part, abide below, congregated in concentric circles, of which a red-hot stove, filled with that to me deadly abomination, anthracite coal, forms the centre.

Wrapping well up, I found, even in the severest season, no difficulty in facing the open air, and have more than once paced the upper deck for a passage of three or four hours without having my territory invaded, or at most only for a few minutes by some adventurous spirit, who invariably dived down after a shiver or two.

Here then, between your meals, you may promenade upon a noble deck fifty feet long, smoking your cigar, and eyeing the flitting forest or meadow, amidst dreamy reveries of William Penn's description of the populous tribes of the Delaware, and that first simple treaty which consigned to the unwarlike strangers a country and a home, a treaty which was a deed of disinheritance to the posterity of the donors, and of destruction to their nation, of whom, in their own land, their name has long been the sole memorial left.

In travelling, as I did much and alone, this was always the current set of my day-dreaming. I never could draw on fancy to the exclusion of the Red-man; but, on the contrary, constantly detected myself re-peopling every wood with the wild forms of the aborigines, and in each distant skiff that darted over the broad stream picturing the fragile canoe, and its plumed and painted occupant.

The town of Wilmington, the chief place of the little State of Delaware, shows very attractively from the river, with which it communicates by a navigable creek, and, together with the neighbouring springs of the Brandywine, is in high repute for the beauty of its scenery as well as for its general salubrity.

Arrived at Newcastle, an ancient but not very populous city,—which nevertheless possessed an interest in my eyes, from the circumstance of my having chosen to write about it long before I ever dreamed of seeing it,—you quit the steamer, and, seating yourself in one of the long line of railway cars awaiting you, are whisked over the intervening neck to French-town,—by courtesy so called, since the town is yet to be,—a distance of sixteen miles in about fifty minutes; and are there reshipped on the Elk river, down which you rush, at the usual rapid rate, amidst scenery that is really charming.

At the junction of the Susquehannah, the view up the two fine rivers, with the dividing headland, the numerous winding creeks, deep shady coves, and spacious bays, all well wooded and backed by a range of bold mountainous ridges, calls for unqualified admiration, and cannot be too often seen.

The vast bay of the Chesapeake now opens gradually out before you. On the right lie the Gunpowder and other rivers, famous as the favourite feeding-ground of the canvass-back; and here you find amusement in watching the innumerable flocks, or rather clouds, of every denomination of the duck tribe, which, disturbed by the noisy steamer, rise from the water in numbers that hide the sun.

Boats too, of a beautiful model and most varmint rig, now begin to thicken on the track, working up, close-hauled, into the eye of the wind, or going, right before it, with the foresail guy'd out on one side and mainsail on the other, showing an uncommon spread of canvass. Here and there, too, the masts of tall ships rise, as more gravely they seek their port, or win their way to the yet distant ocean, performing a voyage before they reach the sea.

North Point is next passed by; and the fate of poor Ross is yet occupying the mind, when the city-crowned hill begins to open on the view, and Baltimore, with all its domes, spires, and columns, stands forth in bold relief against the evening sky.

A bustle soon after commences on deck: the ladies draw closer their hoods and cloaks, and the men move to and fro, warned by the sable Mentor of the place, who paces the decks below and above with a ceaseless cry of "Ladies and gentle-men will be pleased to step forward, and point out their bag-gage."

A general loading of wheelbarrows is now the order of the hour; most of the waiters exercising the office of porters, and carrying with them their barrows. The landing-place gained, you are hailed by many voices ringing in a rich brogue, "Coach, your honour! Long life to ye! want a carriage?" and eager looks and ready uplifted fingers woo you for an assenting nod. Nowhere on this continent is the presence of Pat so immediately recognizable as in this good catholic city, where the office of Jarvey is nearly a monopoly amongst my poor countrymen, who appear to have left no tittle of their good-humour, eager importunity, and readiness of wit behind them.

Being once known, I felt at all my future landings quite at home here, as these honest fellows were to me particularly attentive. Driving to Barnum's hotel, the stranger may count on a hearty welcome from King David (whom Heaven long preserve!) and from his household much civility; and here, with capital fare, over a fire of wood,—never use anthracite in a close room,—will find, if he has been as observant as he ought, much to amuse and gratify him in a retrospective glance over a journey of some hundred miles, performed with little fatigue or inconvenience, between the chief cities of quaker Pennsylvania and catholic Maryland.

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