Preston,
Mrs. Preston And The Three Misses Preston.
Mr. Stone, Col.
Stewart, Miss Warde, Mr. Still, and Mr. Hutton, of
Sheffield, and his daughter. We have 134 passengers, only, on
board - a slack muster, caused by the evil times in America - and all
were at dinner on Saturday, the day we sailed, but the wind, rain,
mist, and misery of the next three days sent many of them below, and
for those days we had plenty of elbow-room. The weather, however,
improved, the sun got now and then out, though it has, so far, been
anything but warm, and out came the sick people again in renovated
appetite - some epicurean and dainty, many others with a ravenous, all-
devouring maw, reminding one of the 'worm that never dieth.'
"Now, Col. Preston is the late U.S. Ambassador to Madrid, where he has
resided officially, and with his family, for the four years of the
Buchanan Presidency. He is now replaced, I think, by a Mr. Falkner. He
is a tall, stout, gentlemanly man, but, while a perfect gentleman in
his conversation, and having less of the American accent than most
Americans, his manner is somewhat ungainly - perhaps owing to his make,
which is large and a little inclining to the unwieldy.
"Mrs. Preston has an Americo-Grecian face, and is a 'grand-dame.' She
talks of the blessings of slavery, and of the vain and self-recoiling
efforts of her mother, who liberated many slaves and educated more, to
reduce the evil; and is full of the troubles and robberies of foreign
house-keeping and of the gossip of the diplomatic circle.
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