Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1890-06-13
The Journal OF A FirstCabin
Passenger.
lHAERisr BRADLEY IL HAGPEa's WEEKLY

tHAEEIET BRADLEY ~ HARPER'S WEEhLh.)
The cabin was full Of flowers, ana one
table held nothing hut Toses-roses in has-
k,ts ana boxes. and fuses tied with white
saiIa ribbons Fastened To each bunch
and box aud basket was the name Of Miss
Ra-alie Miller wandering band of Ger
iaau musicians was playing IN the steer
age aud from both upper and lower deck
hats ana haudkerchiefs waved in answering
good Iy t0 The hats and handkerchiefs
waving from one corner Of the dock. As
the beautiful ocean steamer glided past the
lighthouses and islands the first cabin
passengers disappeared, and on the steer
age deck the old women took out their
knitting; the old men their pipes and packs
of cards; the young gentleman III the white
straw hat, who for various reasons was
travelling in this humble way, uufolded
the morning paper; the halt-dozen babies
dropped asleep IN their mothers arms, and
Friede, the hye-year- old Flemish girl, with
under her chin, smiled a good morning to
Antoine, the deck steward, who leaned
idly against the railing abOYe. The first
cabin passengers had disappeared in walk
ing costumes and straw hats and bonnets;
they reappeared in ulsters and long cloaks
in soft felt hats and knitted hoods: and
each passenger held novel, with pas
scnger list tucked in as a book-mark The
different people arranged their steamer
chairs into pleasant neighborhoods, and
Antoine walked in and out with biscuits
and lemonade, a napkin carelessly thrown
over his arm, and an obliging smile on his
round Flemish face. Antoine needed no
passenger list Being deck steward of
long experience, a glance at the passengers
was sufficient to tell him each ones story.
lie knew to-day which was the commercial
traveller and which was the German count
which was the clergyman going abroad Tor
his health, and which was the Harvard
student He knew that the six pretty
young women, with their chairs in row,
were artists going to Munich; that the tall
lady in a fur lined cloak was a woman doc
tor; and that the lady with a French
grammar open in her lap would soon be
feeling very Seasck. He knew also that
the young girl who sat near her, and whose
eyes still held the shadow of good-by tears,
was Miss Rosalie Miller; but any one might
have known this by reading the name
printed on the back of her steamer chair.
The Harvard student had known it at least
half an hour, as well as the name Of the six
young women whose chairs stood in a row.
Concerning young Mr.. Julian Newton,
however, nothing was yet known. He had
no steamer chair, and his name only ap-
peared on the passenger list as ''and child
in the right hand column, two lines re-
moved from that OF the German count.
Mr. Julian Newton was the youngest Of
the first cabin passenger. lie was travel
ling with his paint box, his kite, a portion
of his library, and his doll Martha. 1t was
his first first voyage, and he was ON his
way to Paris RoSalie was four times as
old as Julian, who was five, and they met
at noon on the fourth day out in the
chocolate and rose colored cabin, with its
six port hole windows and its rows of white
lilies painted oil background OF pale
green and gold. The first three days were
days OF warm breezes and glorious sunsets.
The steerage ball had been opened every
afternoon by heavy bearded man, who
looked like an agreeable pirate, and who
always danced with a young woman in a
sprigged muslin dress. On the upper deck
the passengers had become sufficiently
acquainted to smile slightly at each other,
and the Count, who was musical, played
daily on his either, and spoke German with
| the Harvard student On the fourth day
there came a change; the waves tossed
themselves up into heaps of foam, the
| heavy bearded man declared that was
! dancing enough for one day and postponed
| the afternoon ball, the steerage belle be
came as limp in her feelings as the frills on
her sprigged muslin dress, and those OF the
first cabin passengers who were able to be
out of their berths covered themselves
warmly, talked little, and nibbed hard
| bread steadily.
Rosale Miller was in one corner of the
deck cabin, and in the opposite corner lay
the lady with the French grammar. Now
and then she opened her eyes and the book
at the same time, and took hasty look at
the page headed Material for Conversa-
| ton" She had promised herself TO learn
six sentences day, and she intended TO
learn them whether the sea ran high or
low. Rosalie also held a book; it was one
| of her parting presents, and she had two
| more exactly like it in her state-room.
There was a printed page and blank page
for every day Of the voyage, and there was
also chart showing the ships pathway
across the Atlantic.
GLOW are you feeling now, Aunt Sarahl'
said RoSalie to the lady in the corner.
Worse, if anything" said the lady.
II think, continued Rosalie, I'VE shall
probably meet with "A great storm on the
seventh day. We may be shipwrecked.
In this book the verse for the seventh day
speaks of storms and danger"
The lady sald she didn't care, and that
the sooner they were shipwrecked the bet
ter"
Through the doorway of the cabin one
could see the waves and the sky, and now
and then a laugh or a snatch of talk loated
in through the port hole windows.
When We get to Flushing" said the
Harvard .tudent In the six urettV Vounp
women, whose chairs stood in a row, I'VE
shall take pilot on board, and his eyes
will be black. Ifthey are not black, will
give you each boz of chocolate"
but we tHow that his eyes will be
blue, said the six pretty young women all
at once 1--WE are sure of it. If his eyes
are not blue, We will each give you a
sketch"
In The main cabin below, tue Count was
playing ON his either, a faint sound of sing
ing came from the distant steerage, and
the ship plunged onward through the end
less stretch Of white,capped waves.
eff he-seYenth day is to be a storm" "
said Resale, then on the sixth day we
may expect II great calm. Here is the
verse for the sixth day:
There is a point in the great centre of the
cyclones force,
4 silence AT its secret source.
A little child might slumber und.sturbed
Without the rufilc of one fairy curl
In that strange central calm ap.jd the
mighty whjr.