u looking just now?"

The question went deeper than Chester thought possible. He colored a
trifle, but there was no time to reply, for the other continued:

"Mine was farther than that gray blot called New York, farther than the
Alleghany mountains; in fact, it extended across the plains of the west
to the Rocky Mountains--"

"So was mine!" exclaimed the younger man. "Let's shake hands upon it. My
name is Chester Lawrence, and I'm a Mormon."

"My name is George Malby."

"Elder George Malby?"

"Yes; I am a Mormon elder going on a mission to Great Britain."

"I'm mighty glad to meet you, Elder Malby. I thought there wasn't a soul
on board this vessel that I could approach as a friend; now I have a
brother."

"Three of them," corrected the elder. "There are two more missionaries
on board. Not a large party of us this time. Would you like to meet
them?"

There was no more land to be seen now. The sea stretched all around,
with clouds above, and the rain. There was more comfort below, so the
two newly-made friends went down. Chester met the other elders who were
younger men, one destined for Scandinavia, the other for the
Netherlands. It did not take long for the four men to become acquainted.
Presently the dinner gong sounded, and all became interested in the
first meal on ship-board.

Practically every one sat down to that dinner, and did full justice to
it. For many, that was the only meal eaten for days. Chester was not
seated at the same table as his friends. At his right was a chatty old
gentleman and at his left a demure lady who ate in silence. Strangeness,
however, is soon worn off when a company of people must eat at the same
table for a week; that is, if the dreaded sea-sickness does not
interfere too much with the gathering together at meal-time.

Towards evening the rain ceased. As the darkness came on, the clouds
billowed across the vast upper expanse. Chester and his new-made friends
paced the deck and watched the night settle on the water, and enclose
the ship in its folds. They talked of the strange new experience on
ship-board, then they told somewhat of each other's personal history.
The sea was rough, and the ship pitched more and more as it met the
swells of the Atlantic. The question of sea-sickness came up.

"I have crossed the ocean three times," remarked Elder Malby, "and
escaped the sickness each time. I hope for as good luck now."

"It _is_ a matter of luck, I understand," said Ches