Our departure was in rough weather. George Ripley, formerly of Brook Farm and then of the ‘New York Tribune,’ an early friend of Parker, came to see us off. My husband insisted somewhat strenuously upon my coming to table at the first meal served on board, as this would secure me a place for the entire voyage. I felt very ill, and Parker, who was seated at the same table, looked at my husband and said, ‘Natura duce,’ for which I was very grateful. Presently the captain, who was carving a roast of beef, asked some one whether a slice of fat was likewise desired. At this I fled to my cabin without waiting for permission. Parker also took refuge in his berth, and we did not meet again for some time. We had encountered a head wind in the Gulf Stream, and were rolled and tossed about in great discomfort. I persisted in being carried on deck every day. My stewardess once said to the stout steward who rendered me this service, ‘This lady has a great deal of energy and no power.’ My bearer, seeking, no doubt, to comfort me, growled in my ear, ‘Well now, I expect this seasickness is a dreadful thing.’ Soon a brighter
