om that in a
steamer that it may interest some people. It is, as a rule, only
those who go abroad for their health who prefer a sailing ship, on
account of the great length of the voyage, in allusion to which
steam people call sailing ships "wind jammers," while the sailors
retort on steamers by dubbing them "iron tanks" and "old coffins."
There is no doubt that the picturesqueness of a sea voyage is quite
destroyed by a steamer. There are no, or very few, regular sailors
on board; so much of the work is now done by steam. There are no
"chanties" or sailors' songs, which help the work to go easily. In a
steamer there is no interest in noting the course--they go straight
on, and the distance covered does not vary, or only slightly, from
day to day. The movement of a sailing ship through the water at 12
knots per hour is quite exhilarating; the ship hurries on by "leaps
and bounds." Contrast with this the labouring plunges of a
screw-steamer at the same rate. In short, romance is perishing from
the sea with the universal invasion of steam. Could the poet have
thus written of the Pirate--

"O'er the glad waters of the deep blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,"

if the Pirate was master of a steamer? I think not. However, I do
not deny that a steamer has many and great advantages over a ship.
The chief advantage, and the only one to which I need allude, is the
prosaic but not unimportant one of better food, and this with many
people would decide in favour of a steamer. Perhaps we were
exceptionally unfortunate in this respect. The Hampshire is a barque
of 1,100 tons, and belonging to Captain Hosack, of Liverpool. She is
most commodious; the cabins are much larger than is usual in a
vessel of this size. Mine was not a large one, but it measured 8ft.
by 10ft. 6in. There is, too, a poop deck 70ft. long, which is
scarcely ever touched, even by a heavy sea. When people are
constantly in each other's society for so long they gradually throw
off many of the artificial restraints of society, and exhibit
themselves as they would in their own homes. The result is curious.
A constant process of natural selection goes on, by which like seeks
like, and the estimation in which a particular person is held by
his fellow-passengers is often very different at the close of the
voyage from what it was at the beginning. Taking all things into
consideration, however, I think the saloon passengers on the
Hamps