ain the dining room was cheerful with sunny faces. After
breakfast the decks were astir with pretty women, children, and gentlemen
lifting their hats. The promenade was as gay as on Fifth Avenue. Doctor
Argyle gave his arm to Mrs. Harris, Lucille walked between Alfonso and
Leo, and doctors of divinity and men of repute in other professions kept
faithful step. Actors and actresses moved as gracefully as before the
footlights. A famous actor carried on his shoulders a tiny girl who had
bits of sky for eyes, a fair face, and fleecy hair that floated in the
sea breeze, making a pretty picture.

Business men with fragrant cigars indulged in the latest story or joke.
By degrees the promenade disappeared as passengers selected steamer
chairs, library, or smoking room, and congenial souls formed interesting
and picturesque groups. At the outset of the voyage you wonder at the
lack of fine dress, and hastily judge the modest men and women about you
to be somewhat commonplace, but after days at sea and many acquaintances
made, you discover your mistake and learn that your companions are
thoroughly cosmopolitan. In fair weather the decks are playgrounds where
children at games enliven the scene, and sailors' songs are heard.

When the old clipper ship took from four to six weeks to cross the
Atlantic, a weekly paper was printed. On some of the swift liners of
to-day on the fourth day out a paper is issued, when perhaps the steamer
is "rolling in the Roaring Forties." The sheet is a four-page affair,
about six inches wide and nine inches long. It gives a description of the
ship signed by the Captain; the daily runs of the ship follow, the
distance still to go is stated, and the probable time it will take to
make port; under "General Information" you learn about seasickness, what
you have not already experienced, the necessity of exercise aboard ship,
also much about the handling of luggage in Europe; some of the prose and
poetry is sure to be good, and is contributed by skilled writers among
the passengers. A column of "Queries" and a few brief stories and jokes
brighten the sheet. The price is fifteen cents, and every copy of "The
Ocean Breeze" is highly prized. On the whole, people at sea enjoy most
the enforced rest, for they escape newspapers, telegrams, creditors, and
the tax-gatherer.

At 11 o'clock on the deck, every pleasant day, a large, well-dressed man,
attended by his valet, generously opened a barrel of fresh oysters