On the 8th of September 1838, we sailed from the wharf at Bristol in the Cambrian steam-boat, and found ourselves amid an immense multitude of men, women, and children, dogs, bales, bags, porters, and musicians. We were cheered by the strains–not very dulcet–of a harp and a violin, as we descended the stream of the muddy, yet romantic Avon. In sailing down the river, we saw two persons shoot across the gulf, of which it forms the narrow bottom, in a car, slung on an iron bar 785 feet in length, and 170 feet above our heads. It is used by the workmen now engaged in constructing a suspension-bridge from cliff to cliff across the stream.

In an hour and a half, we were on board of the Great Western, lying at anchor in King-Road. Her first appearance disappointed us; for we had heard much of her great dimensions. When compared with the vessels lying near her, she was seen to be very long, but neither remarkably broad nor high. This was her third voyage outward. She was launched on 19th July 1837, and sailed on her first voyage to New York on 2d April 1838.

The passengers were gay; and, although many of us looked wistfully at the receding shores of England, there was no possibility of indulging in sentiment in such a scene of bustle.