l, I was like one
with a patent of nobility in a drawer at home; and when I felt out of
spirits I could go down and refresh myself with a look of that brass
plate.

For all these advantages I paid but two guineas. Six guineas is the
steerage fare; eight that by the second cabin; and when you remember
that the steerage passenger must supply bedding and dishes, and, in five
cases out of ten, either brings some dainties with him, or privately
pays the steward for extra rations, the difference in price becomes
almost nominal. Air comparatively fit to breathe, food comparatively
varied, and the satisfaction of being still privately a gentleman, may
thus be had almost for the asking. Two of my fellow-passengers in the
second cabin had already made the passage by the cheaper fare, and
declared it was an experiment not to be repeated. As I go on to tell
about my steerage friends, the reader will perceive that they were not
alone in their opinion. Out of ten with whom I was more or less
intimate, I am sure not fewer than five vowed, if they returned, to
travel second cabin; and all who had left their wives behind them
assured me they would go without the comfort of their presence until
they could afford to bring them by saloon.

Our party in the second cabin was not perhaps the most interesting on
board. Perhaps even in the saloon there was as much good-will and
character. Yet it had some elements of curiosity. There was a mixed
group of Swedes, Danes, and Norsemen, one of whom, generally known by
the name of "Johnny," in spite of his own protests, greatly diverted us
by his clever, cross-country efforts to speak English, and became on the
strength of that an universal favourite--it takes so little in this
world of shipboard to create a popularity. There was, besides, a Scots
mason known from his favourite dish as "Irish Stew," three or four
nondescript Scots, a fine young Irishman, O'Reilly, and a pair of young
men who deserve a special word of condemnation. One of them was Scots:
the other claimed to be American; admitted, after some fencing, that he
was born in England; and ultimately proved to be an Irishman born and
nurtured, but ashamed to own his country. He had a sister on board, whom
he faithfully neglected throughout the voyage, though she was not only
sick, but much his senior, and had nursed and cared for him in
childhood. In appearance he was like an imbecile Henry the Third of
France. The Scotsman, though perhaps