This historic book may have numerous typos, missing text or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1893. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... A quiet girl. he steamship "Calabria," thirty-six hours out from New York, was ploughing her way, on an April morning some years ago, against a head wind, and a sea which, though subsiding, was still decidedly rough and unfriendly. A bright sun had begun to dry the recently scrubbed decks, when a passenger, the first visible since Sandy Hook was passed, crawled up the companion-way very much as a fly creeps window-ward after a cold storm, and emerged on the deck. This passenger was a young man, wrapped in a fur-lined coat, from whose pockets a pipe-case, sundry newspapers, and a book protruded. A steward followed, bearing a chair and rug, which he set down in an indicated spot, while their owner proceeded to make himself comfortable in an accustomed and leisurely way. He was a well-built, rather handsome fellow, with a full beard of light brown, and as much of the English look as can be given by broad shoulders and a pair of cool blue eyes whose gaze was rather interrogative than kindly. His movements, though deliberate, had nothing of the languor of seasickness about them. In fact, Mr. Eliot Bryce (as a card tacked to the back of his chair proclaimed him) was no longer seasick. His tax to Neptune,--a moderate one,--had been paid for the present voyage. He was aware and glad of the fact, and opened his book with the composure of a man who, having weathered more than one " first day out," knew what to expect of the Atlantic and his own sensations. For half an hour he remained in solitary possession of the deck. Then a yellow gentleman was helped upstairs by the steward and laid on a canvas chair in the sunshine. A chalky gentleman with a baby in his arms next followed, and stowed himsel...
