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Irving, Washington, 1783-1859

"The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey Crayon"

I
knew him by his calculating brow and restless air. His hands were
thrust into his pockets; he was whistling thoughtfully, and
walking to and fro, a small space having been accorded him by the
crowd, in deference to his temporary importance. There were
repeated cheerings and salutations interchanged between the shore
and the ship, as friends happened to recognize each other. I
particularly noticed one young woman of humble dress, but
interesting demeanor. She was leaning forward from among the
crowd; her eye hurried over the ship as it neared the shore, to
catch some wished-for countenance. She seemed disappointed and
sad; when I heard a faint voice call her name.--It was from a
poor sailor who had been ill all the voyage, and had excited the
sympathy of every one on board. When the weather was fine, his
messmates had spread a mattress for him on deck in the shade, but
of late his illness had so increased that he had taken to his
hammock, and only breathed a wish that he might see his wife
before he died. He had been helped on deck as we came up the
river, and was now leaning against the shrouds, with a
countenance so wasted, so pale, so ghastly, that it was no wonder
even the eye of affection did not recognize him.


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