lost. The dockmen are violent, not
hesitating to use their sticks, and you find yourself more than once in
danger, although you strive to obey orders you do not understand very
well, since they are shouted out in savage manner. The inspector reaches
you finally, and you are hustled along in a throng to the barge that is
waiting. You are tired and hungry, having had no food since early
breakfast. Your dreams of America seem far from reality just now. You
are almost too weary to care what next.

[Sidenote: America's Gateway]

The next is Ellis Island, whose great building looks inviting. Out of
the barge you are swept with the crowd, baggage in hand or on head or
shoulder, and on to the grand entrance. As you ascend the broad stairs,
an officer familiar with many languages is shouting out, first in one
tongue and then another, "Get your health tickets ready." You notice
that the only available place many have in which to carry these tickets
is in their mouths, since their hands are full of children or baggage.

[Sidenote: Medical Inspection]

At the head of the long pair of stairs you meet a uniformed officer (a
doctor in the Marine Hospital Service), who takes your ticket, glances
at it, and stamps it with the Ellis Island stamp. Counting the
quarantine officer as number one, you have now passed officer number
two. At the head of the stairs you find yourself in a great hall,
divided into two equal parts, each part filled with curious railed-off
compartments. Directed by an officer, you are turned into a narrow
alleyway, and here you meet officer number three, in uniform like the
second. The keen eyes of this doctor sweep you at a glance, from feet to
head. You do not know it, but this is the first medical inspection by a
surgeon of the Marine Hospital Service, and it causes a halt, although
only for a moment. When the person immediately in front of you reaches
this doctor, you see that he pushes back the shawl worn over her head,
gives a nod, and puts a chalk mark upon her. He is on the keen lookout
for favus (contagious skin disease), and for signs of disease or
deformity. The old man who limps along a little way behind you has a
chalk mark put on his coat lapel, and you wonder why they do not chalk
you.

[Sidenote: Examination of Eyes]

You are now about ten or fifteen feet behind your front neighbor, and as
you are motioned to follow, about thirty feet further on you confront
another uniformed surgeon (officer