Duty was imperative, as it always is, and it must be done "now or never." During the day the little merchant attended to the packing of his stock, and to such other preparations as were required for his journey.

He must take the steamer that evening for Bath, and when the time for his departure arrived, he was attended to the wharf by Mr.
Bayard and Ellen, with whom he had passed the afternoon.

The bookseller assisted him in procuring his ticket and berth, and gave him such instructions as his inexperience demanded.
The last bell rang, the fasts were cast off, and the great wheels of the steamer began to turn.

Our hero, who had never been on the water in a steamboat, or indeed anything bigger than a punt on the river at home, was much interested and excited by his novel position.

He seated himself on the promenade deck, and watched with wonder the boiling, surging waters astern of the steamer.
How powerful is man, the author of that mighty machine that bore him so swiftly over the deep blue waters! Bobby was a little philosopher, as we have before had occasion to remark, and he was decidedly of the opinion that the steamboat was a great institution.