the voyage-foul-smelling. It extends nearly the whole length of the vessel beneath the saloon deck, and is divided into gloomy compartments. In each compartment there are four tiers of berths or bunks, two on each side. The lower tier is about two feet from the deck, and the upper tier is about three feet from the roof. The height of the steerage is about ten feet, which is advertised as unusually lofty by the steamship owners. In each tier there are six berths, eighteen inches wide and six feet long, formed of

A dreary sight meets Giles as he comes into the steerage from the open deck. A feeble light streams through the ports, which are occasionally obscured by a wave dashing against them on the outside. He can dimly see the women and children sitting or lying in their berths, and hear the children's cries. The stewards are fussing about, or making coarse jokes. By and by preparations are made for supper, of which only a few eat, and when the meal is over, the tables are raised to the roof, leaving a clear space in the cen

wooden boards, smelling faintly of chlorate of lime and carbolic acid. One-half of the passengers have never had softer or more spacious couches, and accept their lot in good part; but the other half have been used to a comfortable home, and are wretched.

There is no thorough classification of the passengers. The single men and women are separated; but Poles, Germans, English and French are thrown together without discrimination. A cleanly, thrifty English or German woman is berthed next to a filthy Italian woman. Mrs. Giles thinks her bed would be hard enough, even though it were isolated, but her misery is intensified by the presence of a dreadful hag in the next berth.

ter of the steerage. Anon a few oil lamps are lighted, to be extinguished again at nine o'clock. The massive vessel quivers as she lurches between the waves, and her engines throb unceasingly as the long night passes away. Some time during the next morning she enters the beautiful harbor at Queenstown, and a few hundred weeping, laughing, forlorn Irishmen are introduced into the already overcrowded steerage. At sunset she has passed the Fastnet Light, and the ocean voyage has begun.

Giles is probably too much occupied with other grievances for thought about the lifesaving equipments of the vessel, and would have no means of satisfying himself were he inclined to inquire. The vessel herself is as

stanch as iron and steel can make her, and the line to which she belongs has never lost the life of a passenger through the carelessness of its employés. Man has been faithful and fate kind to those old ship-owners at Liverpool. No serious accident has ever happened to their steamers, which have weathered the cyclones of summer and the continuous gales of winter for many years. But what if disaster should befall? Has every provision that human forethought and ingenuity could devise been made to meet it ? The largest steamers in the trade carry ten open boats, each of which, under favorable circumstances, might accommodate about seventy persons. But when are circumstances so favorable that all a ship's boats can be launched successfully in a time of panic? Two or three are almost invariably capsized or dashed to pieces against the iron sides of the vessel; and even supposing that all are launched, what then? During a busy season, some of the larger steamers from Liverpool often bring as many as fifteen hundred emigrants to New York at a time. In some instances seventeen hundred persons, exclusive of the crew, have been packed in the steerage of one vessel. The ten boats will carry seven hundred at the most, and there are not rafts or buoys on board for a hundred more. The consequent loss, in case of fire or wreck in mid-ocean, would include the greater part of both passengers and crew.

The truth is, the owners trust to good luck in contemplating the subject, or treat the matter with indifference. The captains and officers are compelled to assume the responsibility. The master of a steamer told the writer that in leaving Liverpool with over a thousand emigrants on board, he remarked to the agent on one occasion how improbable it was that a single life would be saved, were it ever necessary to abandon the ship at sea. The agent dismissed the matter with the cool observation that the captain took a morbid view of things, and distressed himself about disasters which would never happen!

Giles and his friends, who have never been afloat before in their lives, are slow in settling down to the routine of the voyage. They complain to the captain of the narrowness of their quarters, the insolence of the stewards, and the quality of their food; and the captain listens to them, or growls at them, according to the mood he is in. While the weather is fine, their sufferings are not very great. Three meals are served every

day, and both in quantity, which is unlimited, and in quality, which is variable, the rations are better than the law demands. Breakfast, at eight o'clock, consists of oatmeal porridge and molasses, salt fish, hot bread, and coffee; dinner, at twelve, of soup or broth, boiled meats, potatoes, and bread; and supper, at six, of tea, bread, butter, and molasses.

But the manner in which the meals are served is careless and uncleanly. The beef, soup, and porridge are placed on the table in great, rusty-looking tins, which need scrubbing; and the passengers scramble for the first choice, often using their dirty fingers instead of their forks, in making a selection. Mrs. Giles finds her appetite gone after watching a filthy rag-picker plunge his hand into a dish of meat for a tender piece. The stewards themselves are greasy, and want washing. The potatoes are bad, and the bread is not baked enough. Still, while the sea is calm, Giles can take his family on deck and brace them with the glorious fresh air, which brings roses to pallid cheeks. Indeed, the emigrants are quite merry on deck during a warm summer's day. Some of the squalid Italians are dragged from their suffocating retreat over the gratings of the engine-room, and induced to give a concert with their harps and violins, to which the cabin passengers liberally subscribe. Card-parties are formed and checker-boards roughly made for the occasion. Giles lies basking at full length on a hatchway, and dreaming over an old newspaper.

In the

It is when a storm comes that the emigrants suffer most. The hatches are battened down, the ports screwed in their places as tightly as possible, and the companion-ways closed. So long as the sea sweeps the decks, Giles and thirteen hundred others are confined to the steerage. It may be for a day, or two or three days. Each hour the atmosphere becomes more close, and in twentyfour hours it is loaded with impurities. The meals are served irregularly, or not at all, and the food is not cooked enough. darkness the ignorant and timid lose control of themselves, and pour out imprecations and prayers in shrill chorus. The terror spreads to others, and the bravest quail as the shrieks grow louder. The greater the number of emigrants, the greater the confusion and the worse the atmosphere. have known of instances in which the sailors have refused to enter the steerage for the purpose of cleaning it after a storm until the captain fortified them with an extra supply

We

His surprise is unbounded when the steamer arrives at Quarantine. The cultivated lands on the heights of Staten Island and on the Long Island shore, the tasteful houses, prettier to his eyes than the English villas, the appearance of wealth, comfort, and beauty on each side of the Narrows, astonish him and excite his warmest admiration. If he is fortunate, the day is warm and sunshiny, and tempered by a delicious breeze coming from the sea. That cloud which looms at the head of the bay,-that, he is told, is New York, the gate-way to the land of promise, and he points it out to Mrs. Giles and the children to their intense satisfaction.

A little tow-boat brings the doctor on board,not the ship's doctor, but the health-officer of the port, who inspects the steerage and the emigrants. As there are no cases of an infectious disease, the steamer is allowed to proceed to the city, and then another little steamboat appears, bringing the boarding-officer employed by the Commissioners

of Emigration. The boarding-officer is an officious Irish-American gentleman, who ascertains the number of passengers on board and their health. He is also instructed to examine the steerage and to listen to all complaints made; but he retreats below as soon as he comes on board, and we are much mistaken if he may not be found at the bar taking a quiet "nip" with the chief steward. Meanwhile the emigrants on deck are looking wistfully toward the city, with its high roofs, spires and towers. Many of them are anxious and sick at heart, almost afraid to enter the new and unfamiliar world now that they are at its portals. Some happy ones expect friends to meet them and know all about the beneficent offices of Castle Garden, which they explain to others who are not so well informed. By and by the trees and lawns of the Bat

ceases to beat, and several large barges are towed alongside. The baggage is brought from the hold and transferred with the emigrant passengers to these tenders. There is the same confusion and uproar as at the outset of the voyage. The bewildered people are browbeaten and driven about in the most inconsiderate manner. A loud laugh is heard for an instant. An old lady from Ireland has put her tin cooking utensils underneath the cord that binds her heavy trunk. As the trunk is tossed down the gangway, the sailors fail to keep "this side up with care," and saucepans and basins suddenly collapse. As soon as the barges are loaded, a steamboat takes them in tow, while the great steamer proceeds to her pier in the North River.

Castle Garden has been famous for generations. First it was a fort, and then it was converted into a summer-garden for the sale of chocolate, soda and ices. In 1832 it was the scene of a grand ball given