But do not disturb yourself with unpleasant thoughts of what may happen in the fog. Remember, rather, that of the thousands of voyages that have been made across the Atlantic only a few dozens have been unfortunate, and of all the steamers that have plowed these waters only the President, City of Glasgow, Pacific, Tempest, United Kingdom, City of Boston, and Ismailia—seven in all—are unheard from. The chances are thousands to one in your favor, and if this does not satisfy you, try and recall the philosophy of the man who said it was none of his business whether the ship was in danger, as he had paid his fare to the company and they were under obligations to carry him safely to the other side. If the wind rises to a gale, don't worry in the least, and if you have any doubt about the matter ask your room-steward what the appearances of things are to a sea-faring man like himself. Quite possibly his answer may be in the substance, if not in the words, of the mariner's song:—

When a steamer is in a rough sea, especially if she is lightly laden, the screw is frequently out of water for several seconds at a time. Relieved from the resistance of the water, the screw whirls with the rapidity of lightning and gives the stern of the ship a very lively shaking. This is called "racing," and it is anything but pleasant, but there is a comforting assurance when you hear it that everything is all right and the machinery in order. Whenever you hear the racing of the screw in rough weather you will hear a welcome sound. If a wave seems to hit the ship a staggering blow, and send her half over, do not listen for a commotion and spring from your berth, but bend your ears to catch the sound of the engine, and when you hear its "choog! choog!" you may make yourself easy. In rough weather or in smooth, the first thing to listen for on awaking is the engine, and when you hear its steady breathing and feel its great heart pulsating, as if it were the vital force of an animate being, you may turn and sleep again, satisfied that the ship which carries you "walks the water like a thing of life" and is bearing you safely onward to your destination.

Inventors have busied themselves to devise something that should put a stop to the racing of the screw, with its liability to derange the machinery and its certainty of disturbing the nerves of excitable passengers. Several plans have been tried, but, up to the date of writing this volume, none of them have proved successful. Somebody will doubtless accomplish the desired result before the end of another decade, and when this is done he should give attention to the jar caused by the machinery. It is hardly reasonable to expect that a fast steamer will ever go over the water with the steadiness of a sailing-ship, and with no perceptible jarring, but so much has been done in the last twenty-five years in smoothing the ways of the ocean, and the vessels that plow it, that the scheme here suggested is by no means impossible.

While sitting on deck some afternoon you may be at a loss for a subject to think about. Busy yourself with imagining what will be the style, model, speed, and propelling force of the transatlantic ship of twenty, fifty, a hundred, and five hundred years hence! Here is enough to occupy you for many hours, and perhaps you may devise something that will benefit the human race, and, also, not the least consideration, put money in your pocket.

  CHAPTER V.

SEA-SICKNESS AND HOW TO AVOID IT.

We come now to the momentous question of mal de mer. It is a question that has puzzled the scientific men of all ages since the departure of the Argonauts in search of the Golden Fleece on the first ship that ever sailed the sea, and, from present appearances, it will continue to be a puzzle as long as the waves of the ocean continue to roll. By some it is claimed to be a nervous disturbance, others contend that it is purely a stomachic affair and the nerves have nothing to do with it, and there are others who argue that the brain is the seat of the disorder and disturbs the stomach by sympathetic action. There are wise men who charge sea-sickness to the spleen, the liver, or other internal organs, and it is not impossible that we may yet hear of a savant who attributes it to corns on the toes. Sea-sickness is a mystery, and the more we study it the more are we at sea as to its exact operation.

Some people, who are bundles of nerves, are not affected by the motion of a ship, while others, who are nerveless as a paper-weight, are disturbed with the least movement. Weak stomachs escape while strong ones are upset, and there seems to be no rule that can be laid down with exactness or anything that approaches it. But on one point there can be no two opinions, that sea-sickness is a most disagreeable malady, even in its mildest form, and that any means of relieving it, or even of mitigating it in a small degree, will be hailed with delight by all who suffer from it. It will also be a boon to those who are never sea-sick, as it will relieve them from a companionship that is not always the most agreeable in the world.

For some persons there is no escape, and they will be prostrate in their berths during the whole voyage of the ship, or just able to get around. But, in the majority of cases, sea-sickness may be wholly prevented by a free use of cathartics or anti-bilious remedies a day or two before departure on a voyage. In America, the pills of Ayer, Brandreth, or Wright will serve the purpose; in England, the famous "Cockle's pills," and in France the Pilules Duhaut. The relaxation of the system should be sustained during the voyage by the same means or by the use of Seidlitz powders, or similar effervescent substances; this simple precaution will save most persons from being disturbed by sea-sickness, no matter how wildly the ship may toss, provided they combine with it an abundance of air and exercise. As before stated, there is no relief known at present for the other fourth of humanity, except to stay at home.

Dr. Fordyce Barker, an eminent physician who has made a careful study of sea-sickness, opposes the previous use of cathartics, and advises that a hearty meal be eaten a short time before going on board. Those who are subject to sea-sickness he enjoins to undress and go to bed before the vessel moves from her dock or anchorage. He says they should eat regularly and heartily without raising the head for at least one or two days, and in this way they will accustom the digestive organs to the performance of their functions. He advises the use of laxative pills the first night out and, if necessary, during the entire voyage. The following is his prescription:—

LAXATIVE PILLS.

Where there is a tendency to diarrhœa, which sometimes happens at sea, he recommends the following, and he also advises the traveler to carry it in his journeys over the Continent to counteract the effects that occasionally come from drinking bad water. The dose is, for an adult,

M.S. A small teaspoonful in a wineglass of water after each movement.

Dr. Barker says that in cases where the victim has suffered several days from sea-sickness, with constant nausea, nervous depression, and sleeplessness, he has found great benefit in the use of bromide of potassium. The powders are to be taken in a half-tumbler of plain soda-water, and, if this cannot be obtained, in cold water sweetened with sugar. It is to be sipped slowly, so that the stomach may be persuaded to retain and absorb it. The powders should be kept in a wide-mouthed vial, or in a tin box, so as to protect them from the effects of the sea-air. The following is the prescription:

He also recommends a person about making a sea-voyage to take a supply of "mustard leaves," which can be had at the druggist's. They are useful in allaying the nausea and vomiting by getting up a counter irritation, and should be applied over the pit of the stomach.

Many individuals, especially those inclined to corpulency, find relief in wearing a tight belt around the waist. This is so well understood that some of the makers of surgical appliances advertise "belts for sea-sickness" as part of their stock in trade. Some persons recommend a tight-fitting undergarment of strong silk, but, in order to be of use, it must be altogether too close for comfort, and the wearer is quite likely to say that he considers it the greater of the evils.

A recumbent position is better than the erect one when a traveler is suffering from the nautical disturbance, and, in most cases, he is too weak to take any other. It is better to lie flat on the back than in any other way, and there are many persons who are well when thus lying down, but become ill the minute they attempt to rise. A friend of the writer belongs to this category. His mode of taking his meals when at sea is to lie flat on his sofa, while the steward cuts his meat into small pieces and gets everything ready. At a given signal the sufferer rises to a sitting posture, and swallows a few mouthfuls as rapidly as possible. Then he drops back, rests a few minutes, and repeats the feeding operation. In half a dozen performances of this sort he will take in a creditable dinner; as long as he remains on his back his digestion goes on all right, but he cannot be five minutes on his feet without a return of nausea.

A round of heavy dinners and champagne suppers before starting is not a good preparation for a sea-voyage, neither is a "send-off" on board, with farewell glasses of inspiriting liquids. Many a man has suffered at sea from too much conviviality before his departure.

The sufferer on the water is not charmed with the mention of the table, and even the greatest delicacies fail to arouse his appetite. Give him anything he wants, it won't make much difference, though it is well, perhaps, to deter him from ham and eggs, chicken or lobster salads, and anything, in fact, that contains grease or oil. Tea and toast are the great articles of diet for the sea-sick, and they may be safely trusted with baked apples, and with nearly all kinds of fruit. A cracker or an Albert biscuit will sometimes have charms when nothing else can be swallowed, and when the victim is convalescent he feels as though a pickle would do him good. Lemonade is admissible and soda-water is a safe beverage; brandy and soda may be ordered by those who do not shine as members of a temperance society, but it should be taken with caution and the doses must not be repeated too frequently. All drinks that contain carbonic-acid gas are beneficial, and many persons find relief in occasional small allowances of champagne. Those who intend to put any reliance on this wine during sea-sickness should equip themselves with a "champagne tap" before starting; they can then draw what they desire from a bottle and keep the rest without fear that it will become stale through loss of gas.

Hartshorn, cologne, and other substances intended for inhalation are all good at this time, partly because of their effects on their lungs and partly by the distraction of taking them. A volatile article used with great success in sea-sickness is the nitrite of amyl; it is prepared in the form of a pearl with a thin shell of glass around it so as to prevent its evaporation. Any reputable druggist can procure it, and with the pearls it is desirable to have a tube for crushing them and liberating the liquid. In the absence of the tube they may be crushed in the handkerchief, but when taken in this way a large part of the effect is lost.

Always go on deck when you are able to do so, even if you are carried up by your friends or the stewards and deposited in your chair like an armful of wet clothing. Wrap yourself well against the cold, and on the first instant of chillness get more covering or go below. Whenever you feel the impulse to feed the fishes in the early stages of a fit of sea-sickness always go to the lee side of the ship (the one the wind blows from) and never to windward. By so doing you will save a considerable amount of damage to your clothing, and also to that of any who may be near you.

Many persons will tell you that it is an excellent thing to be sea-sick, as you are so much better for it afterwards. If you are a sufferer you will do well to accept their statements as entirely correct, since you are thereby consoled and soothed, and the malady doesn't care what you think about it, one way or the other.

And now comes a bit of advice which might have been given at the opening of this dissertation on the discomforts of the heaving deep, but has been reserved to the end in the hope that it will leave a lasting impression. When the ship casts loose from the dock, or lifts her anchor and gets under way, you should think of anything and everything except sea-sickness, and if any one starts the topic in your hearing leave him and walk away, or ask him to change the subject. If you cannot be thus abrupt, change it for him by starting a political discussion or other agreeable wrangle; do anything rather than allow a continuation of his remarks. Many a man and many a woman has been talked into being sea-sick, or has meditated and wondered on the possibility of it till the malady has put in an appearance. We all know how much the mind dominates the body, how bad news takes away the appetite and good news increases it, and we have all heard how a well man was driven to his bed by the concentrated efforts of a dozen practical jokers who separately informed him that he looked very pale and something must be the matter with him. Don't talk or think of sea-sickness; you will know it fast enough when it comes, and till that time it is the wisest course to assume that you are to be the healthiest passenger on the ship.

Prof. A. G. Wilkinson, of Washington, D.C., says:

"During Atlantic crossings for four years past I found but one instance in which from twenty to thirty grains of bromide of soda in ice-water three times daily for four days, commencing two days before sailing, failed to prevent loss of a single meal. Get dry powders put up in foil and enclosed in ground-stoppered bottles, to prevent deliquescence. I learned this from experimenting for several years with chloral and the various bromides. Soda alone was never distasteful. Dr. G. M. Beard, of New York, was independently experimenting at the same time, and first published his conclusions. After vomiting commences he recommends,

A lady friend had never been able to take a single meal at sea; the second day out, while she was sick, I gave her the above, and she took every meal for the rest of the voyage."

  CHAPTER VI.

SPECIAL ADVICE TO LADIES.

For the following the author is indebted to a lady who has made several trans-Atlantic voyages, and is consequently familiar with the necessities and comforts of ocean travel:

"It is simply preposterous," says a fashionable friend of mine, "Here you are, going to sail for Europe in three days, to be gone three months, and you have nothing ready but that same old trunk, plastered all over with baggage labels, every color of the rainbow." J'ai repondu, "C'est assez, mon ami." If you wish to examine its contents I will show it you with great pleasure, and any one else who may desire to see how I "stow away" my traps can look on at the same time. But as the steamer-clothing, etc., will be the first to be used, I'll show you the contents of this little fifteen-inch square box first. This I call my "steamer-trunk." It is not a steamer-trunk proper, but I find it much more convenient than a long flat one such as is used to go under the berth. This will stand on one side of the wash-stand in the state-room, where a camp-stool is generally found, and by placing a folded shawl on top it makes a permanent, comfortable, and firm seat, saves trouble of stooping and dragging it out, as is the case with an ordinary steamer-trunk, when you want to open it. The lid has a flat leather loop in the center for a handle and can be easily lifted when closed. There is a small tray inside which I use as a "catch-all," and there is plenty of room under the tray for all the clean linen I shall require on the voyage. This and my dressing-bag, with one shawl-strap, is all the baggage I put into my state-room.

Some ladies strew things, "conveniences" they call them, from the top to the bottom of the state-room; quite regardless are they to the convenience and comfort of a possible fellow passenger. Do whatever you please if you can afford a state-room to yourself. But if not, pray keep your own side of the house. Other folks put a lot of eatables in their berths and then complain of rats. Don't take anything in the eating line except a basket of lemons, and if you must take something to drink let it be Chartreuse. Take a box of cathartic pills, and if you need a dose make it a little larger than you would under the same circumstances on shore. Coarse blue flannel or serge is the best for deck wear. Have the skirt of the dress as short as possible without looking odd. Attach the skirt to the waist of the dress and make the front without side forms so that it will look well without a corset. A blouse waist, if well made, will be suitable for almost any figure, and is the most comfortable, but it must fit perfectly round the neck and shoulders.

One flannel skirt, one thin skirt of some bright clean gingham, warm flannels next the body, one pair of overall flannel drawers, bright turkey red, to be worn over the ordinary underclothing and slipped off on going below, two pair stout boots with good square heels, and buttons or laces to support the ankles properly, warm stockings of silk or very fine wool. Don't weigh yourself down with a lot of skirts. Have the limbs well covered and free for walking. No matter what season of the year, take along a good stout cloth ulster, reaching to the bottom of your dress and securely buttoned from the throat to the bottom; no hood nor cape for the wind to make a sail of, only one good broad collar for turning up to keep your ears and neck warm while promenading the deck or sitting in your steamer chair; two or three good outside pockets are indispensable. Never venture on deck without this coat, and a big shawl to cover your feet while sitting down.

Wear an ordinary night-dress in your berth, and have a flannel dressing-gown made without any lining to wear over it when going to or from the bath-rooms, some of which are very luxurious if you enjoy bathing in seawater. Don't fail to have gauntlets sewed on to your gloves to keep your wrists warm. You must make your own selection for head-wear; soft felt hats are very comfortable, but not always becoming. One of the prettiest and most comfortable head-coverings for ladies over 30 is a sort of Normandy cap or bonnet made of silk with soft crown and the breast of a grebe on one side; it will not spoil or get out of shape easily. The best way to dress the hair is to make a smooth coil at the back of the neck and keep the front tidy by brushing each time you go to the state-room; frizzing and curling are impossible and ludicrous. A pretty opera-hood will do good service for a change.

If the weather is very warm on the day you are to sail, carry your steamer-clothes in your shawl-strap and wear a dress that will do you service for a change on the journey. On your arrival in Europe put the same dress on to go ashore and put your steamer-clothes into the little trunk, taking out the underclothing, which will now be soiled, and put it into your shawl-strap. Leave your steamer-trunk, chair, shawls, etc., with the steamship company, subject to your order or return. Put your name in full, and make all into one package, if possible.

The large trunk is a Saratoga, 36 inches long, 23 high, and 20 inches in width. There is only one tray, one end of which has a separated compartment for bonnets or hats, and it is quite large enough to contain three without injury if properly packed round with tissue paper to prevent their falling from side to side. The other two-thirds of the tray is open and flat. Here are collars, cuffs, gloves, ribbons, pocket-handkerchiefs, a few bright bows, ready looped or tied, for hair, neck, and corsage, eight pairs of stockings, such as I wear ordinarily, four pairs extra thick for cold weather, or for mountain climbing, one small box in one corner for cuff-buttons and some inexpensive jewelry which can be worn without constant fear of losing. One little plump pincushion with plenty of short shawl-pins, three or four long hat-pins and plenty of black and white, small ones, some safety-pins, and a few needles on the under side. Make a loop at one corner to hang it up by.

Into the convex portion of the lid (which has a separate cover with hook to fasten), are three pairs of boots, one for dress, one for walking, and one extra stout pair for bad weather. Into the remaining space I have put a shawl and wrap, which will not spoil by being put into so small a space; also my bathing-suit of blue flannel, which is always kept in a rubber water-proof bag, with drawing strings, thereby making it portable whether wet or dry, which is a great convenience, both at home and abroad, for the reason that when you take it off you can immediately put it into the bag, draw the strings together and carry it back by them to your hotel to be dried by the chambermaid. Never leave a nice bathing-suit at the bath-house to be dried. If you do, the probability is that when you need it you will find it wet from some one else having worn it, and the buttons off at the places where they are most needed. There is yet space enough left in this little convexity for a few books, and also for a small bundle of things for a friend whom I wish to remember.

When all these things are taken out for use on arrival, the space is very convenient for soiled clothing, it being quite separate and distinct from any other compartment. Do your own packing if you do not keep a maid. Have a place for everything, so that when you want anything in a hurry, or you feel tired, you will not have that interminable bug-bear of "having to unpack everything to find it." Many a good manager or housekeeper seems perfectly lost when she contemplates the possibility of "living in a trunk," as it is vulgarly called. But if she will bring some of her good common sense to bear upon these smaller details, she will find it not only adds greatly to her own comfort, but it will save her friends from the depression of listening to her uninteresting complainings.

Now we lift out the tray, which has two strong loops for that purpose. You can do it yourself, for it is not heavy, having no heavy articles placed in it. Into the body of the trunk put all undergarments first. Don't roll anything up; lay all as smooth and even as possible. About twelve of each article will last you twenty days. Whatever the season of the year, don't fail to take a couple of flannel skirts and some warm underflannels for extra cold or damp days, and before dressing each morning take a peep at the sky and ask the weather which kind of undergarment you shall put on, thick or thin? One of the greatest comforts for breakfast wear is a wrapper of very dark, soft summer silk costing about 50 or 60 cents per yard; line it throughout with unbleached muslin; twelve yards of silk will make it if cut sparingly, a la princesse robe, loose in front with demi train. Trim the front from the throat to the bottom of the skirt with some cheap cream color or black lace, with a few bright bows of your favorite colored ribbon, about one inch wide, tack some of the lace in pleats round the neck and fasten securely down the front with buttons concealed under the lace, put a patch pocket on each side with one bow on each, one bow and a little of the lace on each sleeve, and you have a dress that will not spoil if you wish to lie down. It is always tidy with or without a corset. You can go through the halls of the hotels in it, and if indisposed you can receive your intimate friends without making a change. It will do more service than a dozen dressing-sacques, and it saves washing, which is quite an item to the economical.

One black grenadine walking dress, made fashionably, looks pretty for evening wear, but it must be lined throughout. No transparent sleeves and neck for rheumatism and consumption. One black silk made to wear with or without extra wraps for the street. One black or very dark green, or smoke-color cashmere for rougher wear, trimmed with satin bands, will not catch the dust and looks handsome. One India silk and one alpaca ulster with plenty of pockets, and if you have a couple of dresses which you wish to finish wearing out, see that the skirt braid is in good order and take them along to wear under the ulsters, for railroad traveling, staging, etc. See that the ulsters fit properly. Don't imagine that because the material is thin it will accommodate itself to your shape. Have the silk one washed as often as required, and it will look like new every time. A blue gauze veil worn with either of these ulsters looks stylish, and a soft felt hat, if suitable to your face, will be the most comfortable for your head. Put a wing or bow of ribbon on the left side, but no ostrich feathers. I would remark that a due regard should be given to the color of the bonnet or hat, also to bows of ribbon or lace, selected to be worn with the dresses. The reason is obvious, viz., when traveling from place to place you have very little time for dressing and arranging becoming toilets, therefore—don't mix things. Put on each article which is intended to be worn with its particular dress, and instead of the fatigue of "changing your dress" every time you go somewhere, you will have only to put on bonnet, gloves, and wrap, and there you are, smiling and ready in three minutes. Husbands, brothers, and fellow-travelers will appreciate this when they find that it is not necessary to ask you, "How long will it take you to get ready?"

Get a yard and a half of unbleached glazed linen and bind it all round with wide red worsted braid. Put this into the trunk with a good long shawl-strap, also your umbrella and parasol. One black parasol with white lining will do for every dress, and look as if it were made for each one in particular. You will not need any of these things on the voyage, so you can put "Hold" in large letters on the trunk, and that will insure you against the temptation of opening it on the steamer. When you arrive at the end of your ocean journey, you will appreciate the comfort of having everything to your hand directly you open your trunk.

Rest for one night (at least) at the place of landing, whether Queenstown, Liverpool, Havre, or elsewhere, and have your soiled linen washed. If at an English port, you will probably go on to London for your first sightseeing; if at Havre, your destination will probably be Paris. In either case you will find it pleasant to stop over night at one or other of the most attractive towns on the way, and for your greater comfort you will take out one complete change of clothes, viz., a fresh dress and some under-linen, and your lace-trimmed wrapper. Spread the afore-mentioned "linen wrap" out smooth, lay your dress lengthwise in the center first, then put the other things on top (lengthwise also), and lastly your umbrella and parasol. Fold each side of the linen cover over so as to nearly meet in the center, and then roll up from end to end, and put your shawl-strap around it. This, and your dressing-bag, is your baggage when you expect to be away from your trunk for a few nights. Send the trunk on by petite vitesse, or ordinary freight, to your ultimate destination. It will make an appreciable difference in your expenses, and like a thoughtful friend it will be waiting for you on arrival, and will have secured a room at the hotel to which it has been addressed. By following this plan you will always have a complete change with you, and will be relieved from the bother of looking after a trunk while on your journey. The hotel manager can always tell you about forwarding your trunk, and the porter of the hotel will attend to the matter. And now let me tell you about my hand-bag and what it contains.

The best satchels, and the most convenient, are those which open very wide and display their contents without obliging one to hunt for each little article needed.

Fold a nice clean night-dress in a piece of paper and place it in the bottom. It is a great comfort to have such a necessity so handy in cases of late arrival at hotels, great fatigue, and possible accident. Don't forget a clean towel. A good-sized sponge, in a water-proof bag long enough to contain a tooth or nail-brush (some of these bags have a separate pocket for the brushes), have a piece of soap in a tight metallic soap-box; one good-sized bottle of cologne-water or bay rum, well corked; one powder-box, with cover screwed on firmly; one medium-sized hand-mirror; a small bag (with drawing string), into which you have put plenty of buttons, spools of silk, thread, needles, and thimbles.

One thin blotter containing writing-materials, and which is small enough to lay flat against one side of the hand-bag, and can be slipped in and out without disarranging the other things, small bottle of ink, with screw or spring top, a couple of pens, and plenty of pencils. Comb and brush in a bag made for the purpose out of a dark silk handkerchief or a piece of chintz. Silk is the best because it will not so easily catch the dust. There is always a little pocket on one side of bag for a paper of pins, a button-hook, and hair-pins, also a pair of scissors.

Put everything back after using, and make your handbag your catch-all in the state-room, and when the weather is rough you have only to close it and so keep everything secure and in its right place. When going a journey by rail put in your guide-book and a magazine. Also, a common fan on top to be easily reached.

For a becoming head-covering to wear in railroad carriages, and to keep the dust from your hair when you wish to rest your head, which often gets tired from wearing a hat for several hours, take a gentleman's small-sized silk pocket handkerchief, of becoming color, and trim the edges with some cheap black Spanish lace, gathering it round the corners so it will lie flat and round. Fold it crosswise, and lay it with two corners on the top of the head, and tie the other two together either under the chin or back-hair. Then make two little pleats on each side of the head near the temples, making it fit the arch of the head nicely, and you will find that it is very comfortable, and takes up little room in your bag.

  CHAPTER VII.

DAILY LIFE AT SEA.

On shipboard you may rise as early or sleep as late as you choose, provided you do not extend your slumbers beyond the breakfast-hour; you are not by any means compelled to get up when the bell rings, but it is best to do so unless prevented by illness. You will find the fresh air of the deck invigorating, and a better appetizer than all the cordials or other stimulants in the possession of the bar-keeper, and besides, the room-steward desires to put your cabin in order sometime during the forenoon. Time is kept on shipboard by "bells," and those who wish to show their familiarity with the sea are in the habit of dropping the ordinary nomenclature of the hours and reckoning by the sound of the bell. The nautical day begins at noon, and all calculations regarding the movements of the ship are made with 12 M. as the starting-point. A little practice and observation will accustom the landsman to "ship's time," and afford him a slight distraction when inclined to think the voyage a monotonous one.

The bell strikes every half-hour from noon to noon again, the even strokes representing complete hours, and the odd numbers the half-hours. The marine day is divided into "watches" of four hours each, with the exception of the period from 4 P.M. to 8 P.M., which forms two divisions of two hours each, known as "dog-watches." The object of this arrangement is to prevent the same men being on duty at the same time day after day, as they would be if the whole twenty-four hours were divided into unbroken watches of four hours each. The crew is divided into "watches" that relieve each other every four hours, with the exception of the "dog-watch" just described. These divisions of the men are known as starboard and larboard, or starboard and port, and each watch has an officer in charge of it. The captain does not "stand his watch" like the other officers, and when the weather is fine and everything lovely he has little to do. But when a gale arises, or the ship is enveloped in fog, it is a time of great anxiety for him, and sometimes there are days together when he hardly leaves the bridge for more than a few minutes at a time. The prudent passenger will avoid speaking to him during this anxious period, and it is a good rule never to address the captain until he has first spoken to you. For the most part, the transatlantic captains are genial and inclined to be sociable, but you will now and then encounter one who evidently descended from a bear or some other ill-mannered animal, if the theories of Charles Darwin are correct.

To know the hour at sea by the bell remember the following: At half an hour past noon there is a single stroke of the bell, and at one o'clock there are two strokes. At half-past one we have three strokes, and at two o'clock four strokes. Thus it goes on, adding a single stroke every half-hour till four o'clock, when "eight bells" are struck. As before explained, the time from four to eight is divided into two short watches, and at eight o'clock a full watch begins, in which the hours are sounded the same as from noon to 4 P.M. This watch ends at midnight and is followed by another till 4 A.M.; from 4 to 8 A.M. is another, and from 8 A.M. till noon is another. If you happen to wake in the night and hear five bells you may know that it is half-past two, unless you have gone to bed very early, and slept briefly, in which case it may be half-past ten. But as the lights are not put out till 11 P.M., and on some ships at 11.30, you are not very liable to mistake the time of one watch for another.

And while we are talking about watches we will consider the one you have in your pocket. The change of longitude in a transatlantic voyage implies a corresponding change of time. There is a difference of four hours and fifty-six minutes between New York and London, i.e., when it is noon in New York it is fifty-six minutes past four in the afternoon at London. This variation of time is spread over the transatlantic voyage and amounts to not far from half an hour daily with the majority of steamers. When going to the east a ship's day is actually only twenty-three and a half hours long, while it is twenty-four and a half when she is on her westward course. This may account for the fact that steamers make their best daily runs when their prows are pointed towards the setting sun.

If you have a costly watch it is not well to change it daily to correspond with the ship's time. Let it run without alteration till you are at the end of the journey, and depend on the bells or the cabin clock for the actual hours. The writer has found that a cheap watch—such as can be bought for five or ten dollars—is an excellent adjunct to a valuable gold one when traveling. It can be altered daily to correspond with the change of longitude, and if it is left around carelessly there is little danger that any intelligent thief will care to steal it. In a journey around the world he changed the hour of his pocket-chronometer only five times—at San Francisco, Tokio, Calcutta, Naples, and Paris—and depended upon his "brass" watch for daily service.

So much for keeping time on shipboard; let us see how we can spend it. Carry enough books to give you ten or twelve hours reading every day, and if you get through a quarter of them you will be lucky. You will find an unaccountable disinclination to read, especially if you have been very active just previous to departure, and will develop a decided tendency for sleep. What with sleeping, and eating, and associating with other passengers, you find no great amount of time for literature, and unless you devote yourself to a blood-curdling novel, in which you are constantly on the strain to know how the plot ended, and whether she married him or the other man, you can only get through a few pages at a time. If you are going abroad for the first time it is advisable to confine the reading to descriptions of the countries you are about to visit, rather than to light literature, but, if you are determined to stick to fiction, you will find sea-stories more interesting than land ones, for the reason that you are on the great deep, and the pictures of the novel will be more vivid than if the book were read on shore.

A ship is a world, and the ocean is the measureless azure in which it floats. Sea and sky are your boundaries, and the horizon-line is ever the same. The weaknesses of human nature, as well as its noble qualities, are developed here, and sometimes they are limned in sharper outlines than on land. Persons whom you have known for years will develop on shipboard qualities that you never suspected them of possessing. You had always thought your neighbor on the right was a selfish mortal, but you now find that he is self-sacrificing to the extreme; on the other hand, the man whom you believed a model of politeness turns out to be quite the reverse. Never in your life have you heard as much gossip in a month as you now hear in a single week; the occupation, character, peculiarities, hopes, desires, and frailties of everybody are canvassed by a goodly proportion of busy tongues, and the ship will very likely impress you as a school for scandal which Sheridan might envy.

Don't take a share in the gossip, and don't concern yourself about the private affairs of anyone else. Be polite to everybody, but don't be in a hurry to make acquaintances; by so doing you will stand higher in their estimation, and will have time to find out those whom you would like the best. A shipful of passengers is generally broken into several parties of persons congenial to each other; sometimes the groups and parties are on the best of terms, and at other times there is considerable hostility, generally caused by a few turbulent spirits, not always of the sterner sex. The weather has much to do with the formation of cliques on an ocean steamer. When the sea is smooth for a day or two at the start the passengers become generally acquainted and are agreeable all around. But if the steamer puts her prow into a rough sea immediately on leaving port those of tender stomachs disappear before they have had time to exchange a word with a stranger. The unruffled ones get together, the men in the smoking-room, and the ladies in the cabin, and companionship begins. By the time the sea is level again, and the sea-sick ones appear, the circles have been formed, and some of them closed completely; then the new-comers form rings of their own, and out of these primary and secondary formations jealousies often grow.

Join in all the innocent sports that while away the time. By day, in fine weather, there are quoits, shuffle-board, and other games, for which the ship furnishes the material, and in the evening there are impromptu entertainments of a mixed character in the cabin. Contribute whatever you can to the general fund of amusement, and if you can neither sing, recite, tell stories, play on an instrument, or do anything else to please your fellow passengers, try and be a good integral part of the audience. You can look on and listen at any rate, and with a little practice you can do it well. Perhaps you can find diversion by investing in the daily pool on the run of the ship, and, when coming westward, there is the inevitable speculation as to the number of the boat from which you take the pilot. But this pool business is sometimes expensive, and if your purse is thinly lined you will do well to stay out of it. The smoking-room affords opportunities for dropping your spare cash to gentlemen of a playful turn of mind, and there are usually adepts at cards who will accommodate you with any game you like. The Atlantic is crossed every year by men who boast that they are always able to cover their expenses, and very often the boast is far below the reality. The fashionable steamers are sometimes the scenes of very high play, and gambling at sea seems to be on the increase in the last few years. They can never be made the field of operations similar to those of the river and railway gamblers of America, for the reason that there is no station or landing-place where a performer on the cards can disappear when he has fleeced his victim, but, at present, there is good reason to believe that the business of occasional passengers is less while ashore than when afloat.

If you have any complaints to make address them to the purser; it is his business to look after the welfare of the passengers, and he nearly always does it. Where you desire to make a first-class row you can appeal from the purser to the captain, and if they are not on the best of terms, and you lay your schemes carefully, a great deal of bad blood will be engendered. As a last resort, you can carry the affair up to the general management of the company, where complaints are investigated with more or less care, and satisfaction is given or refused. The great competition between the various lines causes them to be particularly attentive to the wants of passengers, and it is very rarely that one hears of a well-founded complaint against the captain or purser of a transatlantic steamer. If they err at all it is in paying too much attention to passengers who are often quite willing to be let alone after they have been comfortably settled on board.

Never attempt to go on the "bridge" which is exclusively reserved for the officers of the ship, and do not be anxious to penetrate the mysteries of the engine-room or handle the steering apparatus. On some of the ships notices are posted requesting passengers not to speak to the officers when on duty; it is well to heed these, and also well not to get too near the ropes when sails are being hoisted or taken in. When the ship is pitching violently in a head sea, avoid going forward on deck, as you may get a drenching unexpectedly, and possibly may be washed overboard. Be cautious about leaning over the taffrail or stern at any time, and especially in rough weather, as the ship may "jump from under you" without the least warning, and drop you in the sea. Old sailors as well as landsmen have been lost in this way.

The hours for meals vary on the different lines, but whatever the arrangement, there is no danger of starvation. Most of the English lines give you breakfast, lunch, dinner, and supper, four meals altogether, and all of them pretty "square" ones. The breakfast consists of fish, ham and eggs, steaks, chops, Irish stew, hot rolls, and a half dozen, or perhaps a dozen, other things, with all the tea or coffee you choose to drink. Lunch consists of cold meats and biscuits, and is not a very heavy affair, but the dinner is of that solid character which is one of the boasts of British liberty. You can eat yourself into dyspepsia without making any apparent impression on the abundance set before you, and if you try to go through the bill of fare without missing anything, you will wish you hadn't. Of soups, fish, roasts, boils, stews, and fries, there is apparently no end; the cooking is generally good, and leads the thoughtful passenger into a profound admiration of the culinary artists of the sea. And it also leads him to wonder why so much is prepared when comparatively little is eaten, especially in the first touch of rough weather, when half the passengers and more are confined to their rooms, and a goodly number of the other half display microscopic appetites. This matter has been discussed by the managers of the lines; it has been proposed to make the experiment of serving meals on the "European plan," and ultimately to abandon the old system, if the new one is found acceptable. Under this scheme the price of passage would be reduced, and include only the room and transportation; meals would be served as in a restaurant, and the traveler could spend much money or little, according to the dictates of his purse and appetite. The cost of feeding the passengers would be much less than at present, and all the waste would be borne by the public, instead of the company.

For supper you have toast and cold meats, with Welsh rarebits and other things, such as dreams are made of, and the strong-hearted Englishman generally washes it down with a bottle of ale to give him a good digestion. Some of the companies give an additional meal called tea, which runs closely into the supper; so close is the connection that you can go from the one to the other without leaving the table. In fact, the meals are so numerous that they are crowded against each other, and you are hardly through with one and settled into your chair on deck before you are summoned for the next. But if even these are not sufficient for the keen appetite and hearty digestion you have acquired at sea, you can get something to eat between times by application to the steward. Verily, there is little danger of starvation on a voyage by trans-Atlantic steamer.

On the French line the arrangement differs somewhat from the English. At seven in the morning, tea or coffee is given, with bread and butter and a bowl of soup. From half past nine to eleven breakfast is served, and consists of preliminary appetizers, such as radishes, anchovies, cold ham, and other trifles, followed by steaks, chops, eggs in every form, fish, chicken, and similar solids. Then comes a selection of cheeses and fresh and dry fruits, and the meal ends with a cup of black coffee. Dinner is at half past four, and resembles the continental table d'hote; it is served in courses, and is sufficiently comprehensive to cover the demands of any appetite not altogether unreasonable. Wine, either white or red, is included for both breakfast and dinner, and the passenger may drink as freely of it as he likes. Tea is served at eight in the evening, and there is a light lunch of cold meats at one o'clock. The writer has fared admirably on one of the ships of the French line, and on a subsequent voyage by the same steamer, he fared badly; on the whole, he believes the system a good one, and acceptable to the majority of the passengers.

The gastronomic service of the German steamers combines certain features of the French and English lines, and the hours for meals correspond very nearly to those of the latter. The cooking is Teutonic, and the bill of fare includes a liberal allowance of the toothsome sausage and the savory sour-kraut. There is less waste on the French and German steamers than on the English ones; and it has been remarked that the sea gulls understand the matter very clearly, and will always follow an English ship in preference to one of the others, for the reason that the chance of picking up a delicate morsel that has been tossed overboard is much greater.

Seats at table are assigned by the chief steward or taken by the passengers when they go on board. A card with the name of the individual is placed at the desired seat; the novice might suppose that this would be sufficient to retain the place, but it is not so by any means. Other passengers, who desire the same places, will remove the cards and substitute their own, and sometimes they display great "cheek" in the transaction. It is best to have the chief steward approve your selection at the time you make it, and then you will have an appeal in case of the removal of your card. The captain's table is the post of honor, and the location of the greatest dignity, but if you are not specially invited by the commander to a place there, and have no acquaintance with him, it is best not to seek it. Sometimes the purser's table is a pleasant one, and sometimes the reverse; and the same may be said of the doctor's table. Purser and doctor are proverbially good fellows, with very few exceptions, and wherever you may be seated, your fortune in eating depends more on the table steward than on any one of the officers. When you have once occupied a seat at dinner you retain it through the voyage unless you change with the approval of the steward. A seat in the middle of the saloon is preferred by some to one near the side, but there is really very little difference in the places, so far as the motion of the ship is concerned. Most of the best steamers have adopted the revolving seat, so that you may come to or leave your place without disturbing any one, which is not the case with the old-fashioned bench. Where the benches remain, the passenger should make an effort to secure an end seat, especially if he is liable to sea-sickness and may suddenly discover some day that he doesn't want any more dinner.

If the chief steward assists you to secure a desirable seat, he will expect a pecuniary compliment for the service; on most ships it is well to be on the right side of him, but on some it makes no difference. The first time you go forward beyond a certain line one of the sailors will chalk your boot, or draw a chalk-mark around you. This is a time-honored custom of extracting a shilling from the novice, and the money so obtained is invested in liquid refreshments for the crew. There is only a single chalking for each passenger on the voyage; after he has paid the penalty once he may go forward as much as he pleases without danger of molestation.

The days will run on with more or less monotony, according to circumstances. You will be interested in trivial matters; a sail that is a mere speck on the horizon will awaken a lively discussion, and the appearance of a shark, or a school of porpoises, is sure to draw at least half the passengers to the side of the ship to watch the movements of the inhabitants of the sea. The birds will be a source of amusement, and when a wearied land bird, driven far out to sea by the wind, and with strength nearly exhausted, lights on the rigging, the excitement rises to almost fever heat. What he is, and whence he came, are momentous questions, and if he can be caught and tamed, as sometimes happens, he becomes a popular pet throughout the ship. Some years ago, while a steamer was on her way to New York, a crow came on board a hundred miles or so from the Irish coast. He was caught by the sailors, and soon became perfectly tame and fearless. He liked his new home so well that he did not try to leave it when the ship returned to Ireland; he continued to cross and re-cross for several months, till he was accidentally killed on the dock in New York, where the ship was lying.

Land is in sight, and we will prepare for shore. The old clothing is packed away for deposit in the store-room of the company till our return, and the steamer chair is folded, tied, and tagged. We don our good garments and may cause a sensation to those who have seen us only in the habiliments of the sea, but as every one else will do likewise, the sensation is doubtful. We are ready for the tender that takes us to terra firma, where the formalities of the custom-house await us.

As we leave the ship that has brought us safely over the ocean, it will be no discredit to our manhood if we say good-bye to her, and wish her many prosperous voyages. A feeling akin to affection is not unfrequently developed by the traveler for the ship that has carried him, and ever after he will take a personal interest in her fortunes. A passenger on one of the transatlantic steamers once gave vent to his sentiments in some doggerel verses, of which the following was the concluding one:—