Mr.
Lawrence Newt laughed as he watched, for he thought of fine ladies taking their hair out of curl-papers, and patting and smoothing and rolling it upon little sticks and over little fingers until the curls stood round and full, and ready for action.
Then the ship moved slowly, almost imperceptibly, from the wharf--so slowly, so imperceptibly, that the people on board thought the city was sliding away from them.

The merchant saw the solid, trim, beautiful vessel turn her bow southward and outward, and glide gently down the river.

Her hull was soon lost to his eyes, but he could see the streamer fluttering at the mast-head over the masts of the other vessels.

While he looked it vanished--the ship was gone.
Often enough Mr.Lawrence Newt stood leaning his head against the window-frame of his office after the ship had disappeared, and seemed to be looking at the ferry-boats or at the lofty city of Brooklyn.

But he saw neither.