I was introduced to the young gentleman who was to be my roommate, and

found him to be intelligent, cheerful of spirit, unselfish, full of

generous impulses, patient, considerate, and wonderfully good-natured.

Not any passenger that sailed in the Quaker City will withhold his

endorsement of what I have just said. We selected a stateroom forward of

the wheel, on the starboard side, "below decks." It bad two berths in

it, a dismal dead-light, a sink with a washbowl in it, and a long,

sumptuously cushioned locker, which was to do service as a sofa--partly

-and partly as a hiding place for our things. Notwithstanding all this

furniture, there was still room to turn around in, but not to swing a cat

in, at least with entire security to the cat. However, the room was

large, for a ship's stateroom, and was in every way satisfactory.

The vessel was appointed to sail on a certain Saturday early in June.

A little after noon on that distinguished Saturday I reached the ship and

went on board. All was bustle and confusion. [I have seen that remark

before somewhere.] The pier was crowded with carriages and men;

passengers were arriving and hurrying on board; the vessel's decks were

encumbered with trunks and valises; groups of excursionists, arrayed in

unattractive traveling costumes, were moping about in a drizzling rain

and looking as droopy and woebegone as so many molting chickens. The

gallant flag was up, but it was under the spell, too, and hung limp and

disheartened by the mast. Altogether, it was the bluest, bluest

spectacle! It was a pleasure excursion--there was no gainsaying that,

because the program said so--it was so nominated in the bond--but it

The Innocents Abroad