VOYAGE.— ARRIVAL AT NEW YORK.— BURNING OF QUARANTINE BUILDINGS.— CABLE REJOICINGS.— DESCRIPTION OF THE TOWN.

New York, September 3, 1858.

We landed here yesterday afternoon, at about six o'clock, after a very prosperous voyage; and, as the Southampton mail goes to-morrow, I must begin this letter to you to-night. I had fully intended writing to you daily during the voyage, but I was quite laid up for the first week with violent sea sickness, living upon water-gruel and chicken-broth. I believe I was the greatest sufferer in this respect on board; but the doctor was most attentive, and a change in the weather came to my relief on Sunday,—not that we had any rough weather, but there was rather more motion than suited me at first.

Papa and William were well throughout the voyage, eating and drinking and walking on deck all day. Our companions were chiefly Americans, and many of them were very agreeable and intelligent. Amongst the number I may mention the poet Bryant, who was returning home with his wife and daughter after a long visit to Europe; but they, too, have suffered much from sea sickness, and, as this is a great bar to all intercourse, I had not as much with them as I could have wished.

The north coast of Ireland delighted us much on our first Sunday. We passed green hills and high cliffs on our left, while we could see the distant outline of the Mull of Cantire, in Scotland, on our right. We had no service on that Sunday, but on the one following we had two services, which were read by the doctor; and we had two good sermons from two dissenting ministers. The second was preached by a Wesleyan from Nova Scotia, who was familiar with my father's name there. He was a good and superior man, and we had some interesting conversations with him.

We saw no icebergs, which disappointed me much; but we passed a few whales last Tuesday, spouting up their graceful fountains in the distance. One came very near the ship, and we had a distinct view of its enormous body. We had a good deal of fog when off Newfoundland, which obliged us to use the fog-whistle frequently; and a most dismal sounding instrument it is. The fog prevented our having any communication with Cape Race, from whence a boat would otherwise have come off to receive the latest news from England, and our arrival would have been telegraphed to New York.

The coast of Long Island came in sight yesterday, and our excitement was naturally great as we approached the American shore.

Before rounding Sandy Hook, which forms the entrance on one side to the bay of New York, we ran along the eastern coast of Long Island, which presents nothing very remarkable in appearance, although the pretty little bright town of Rockaway, with its white houses studded along the beach, and glittering in the sun, gave a pleasing impression of the country. This was greatly increased when, running up the bay, we came to what are called the Narrows, and had Staten Island on our left and Long Island on the right. The former, something like the Isle of Wight in appearance, is a thickly-wooded hill covered with pretty country villas, and the Americans were unceasing in their demands for admiration of the scenery.[1]

Before entering the Narrows, indeed shortly after passing Sandy Hook, a little boat with a yellow flag came from the quarantine station to see if we were free from yellow fever and other disorders. There were many ships from the West Indies performing quarantine, but we were happily exempted, being all well on board. It was getting dark when we reached the wharf; and, after taking leave of our passenger friends, we landed, and proceeded to an adjoining custom-house, where, through the influence of one of our fellow-passengers, our boxes were not opened, but it was a scene of great bustle and confusion. After much delay we were at length hoisted into a wonderful old coach, apparently of the date of Queen Anne. We made a struggle with the driver not to take in more than our own party. Up, however, others mounted, and on we drove into a ferry-boat, which steamed us, carriage and all, across the harbour, for we had landed from the ship on the New Jersey side. After reaching New York by means of this ferry-boat, we still had to drive along a considerable part of Broadway, and finally reached this comfortable hotel—the Brevoort House—at about eight o'clock.

The master of the hotel shook hands with papa on entering, and again this morning treated him with the same republican familiarity. The hotel is very quiet, and not a specimen of the large kind, which we intend seeing later. We had fortunately secured rooms beforehand, as the town is very full, owing to the rejoicings at the successful laying of the cable, and many of our fellow-passengers were obliged to get lodgings where they could.

We found that Lord Napier was in the hotel, so we sent our letters to him, and had a long visit from him this morning.

Two topics seem at present to occupy the minds of everybody here; one, the successful laying of the cable, the other the burning of the quarantine buildings on Staten Island. We were quite unconscious, when passing the spot yesterday, that the whole of these buildings had been destroyed on the preceding night by an incendiary mob; for such we must style the miscreants, although they comprised a large portion, it is said, of the influential inhabitants of the place. The alleged reason was that the Quarantine establishment was a nuisance, and the residents had for months been boasting of their intention to destroy the obnoxious buildings. The miserable inmates would have perished in the flames, had not some, more charitable than the rest, dragged them from their beds. The Yellow Fever Hospital is destroyed, and the houses of the physicians and health officers are burnt to the ground. At the very same moment New York itself was the scene of the splendid festivities in honour of the successful laying of the Atlantic Telegraph Cable, to which we have alluded.

We came in for the finale of these yesterday, when the streets were still much decorated. In Trinity Church we saw these decorations undisturbed: the floral ornaments in front of the altar were more remarkable, however, for their profusion than for their good taste. On a temporary screen, consisting of three pointed gothic arches, stood a cross of considerable dimensions, the screen and cross being together about fifty feet high. The columns supporting the arches, the arches themselves, and all the lines of construction, were heavily covered with fir, box, holly, and other evergreens, so as to completely hide all trace of the wooden frame. The columns and arches of the church were also decorated with wreaths and garlands of flowers.

On a panel on the temporary structure already mentioned was the inscription, "Glory be to God on high, and on earth peace, good will towards men," all done in letters of flowers of different colours; the cross itself being covered with white roses and lilies. In the streets were all sorts of devices, a very conspicuous one being the cable slung between two rocks, and Queen Victoria and the President standing, looking very much astonished at each other from either side. The absurdity of all this was, that the cable had really by this time come to grief: at least, on the morning after our landing, an unsuccessful attempt was made to transmit the news of our arrival to our friends in England. It was rather absurd to see the credit the Americans took to themselves for the success, such as it was, of the undertaking.

Besides seeing all this, we have to-day driven and walked about the town a good deal, and admire it much. It is very Parisian in the appearance of its high houses, covered with large bright letterings; and the shops are very large and much gayer looking on the outside than ours; but, on examination, we were disappointed with their contents. The streets seem badly paved, and are consequently noisy, and there are few fine buildings or sights of any kind; but the dwelling-houses are not unfrequently built of white marble, and are all handsome and substantial. In our drive to-day we were much struck with the general appearance of the streets and avenues, as the streets which run parallel to Broadway are called. The weather has been sultry, but with a good deal of wind; and the ladies must think it hot, as most of them appear at breakfast in high dresses with short sleeves, and walk about in this attire with a slight black lace mantle over their shoulders, their naked elbows showing through. We go to-morrow to West Point, on the Hudson River, to spend Sunday, and return here on Monday, on which day William leaves us to make a tour in the White Mountains, and he is to join us at Boston on Monday week.

You must consider this as the first chapter of my Journal, which I hope now to continue regularly.