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62 Chit-Chat by Puck.
forecastle sat a sailor on the look-out. He was read-
ing a letter, and when he had read it he folded it
carefully together, and placed it beneath his coarse
jersey, close to his honest heart. Perhaps a letter
from his sweetheart, or may be one from his old
mother, who, in her lonely cottage, is thinking of
her son—abroad on the wild ocean, voyaging to
distant climes. After a while the sailor commenced
singing :
‘Oh, the land where my dear one sleeps at home,
Is the fairest land upon all the earth;
Let others ’mong roses and palm trees roam,
Give me the snow-clad land of my birth.”
“We shall become homesick if we stay here any
longer, and we must avoid that, while we are on
our travels,” said Anna; and so they soared on
their wings again.
“Ressle, rassle,” sounded from below a tremendous
clashing voice, as if of a thousand running railway
wheels and engines at work. Axel and Anna saw
a great city below. It was New York, the proud
capital of the United States. Great squares were
hemmed in by large marble palaces, and the streets
were thronged by a busy multitude, and looked from
afar as if it were a crawling ant’s-hill. Long pro-
cessions passed onward, playing music, and waving
the star-spangled banner. Whistling steam-pipes,
roaring steam-trumpets, snorting steam-horses, and
splashing steam-ferries were heard everywhere.
These were all the impressions that Axel and
Anna had time to get of the stir of the great
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