The daily morning journal and courier., 1896-06-26

and there, and generally keep wealth CT eye open,
 The surgeon, fresh of linen, spotless as to dress and well groomed, greets friend or takes note of attractive Wo- men passengers as they file up the gang plank,
 Meanwhile, on board ship the bar is run at full speed, with all the valves thrown wide open.
 The gentleman travelling in notions and silks is entertaining a choice lot of business friends in his cabin, and though it is triae early for the con- sumption of Mrs. Cliquot's vintage or MT. Mumms graperies, everything goes in the social circle of which he is 8 shining light
 The happy Thespian whose season has permitted his flight to London is surrounded by an admiring set, who me boy" him with great gusto and heartiness, while the more exclusive members of the Knickerbocker and Calumet clubs. faultless in attire, short of speech but long of smiles, either crowd about some prominent belle and offer homage or brace up with some friend who is bound to that haven of swelldom, London.
 | In the cabins, women of uncertain age and others about whose age there is no uncertainty whatsoever cluster in forlorn groups or struggle hopelessly with children and maids; everywhere trunks and handbags
 Now the side rall is crowded by a smiling throng of women with a few men; fratic efforts are made, utterly unsuccessful, of course, to talk with | friends on the dock. The burden ot the songs thus shrieked over the heads of the people seems to be, Well youll write, won't you?"
 Further aft, the second cabin passen- gers, largely foreigners, are very de- monstrative, the women weeping and the men kissing each other with great effusiveness. Now a hystertcal female passenger bustles about in great trlbu- lation, because of @ missing trunk, but | the steward reassuring her, she sub sides, and is dragged aboard by excl ted relatives.
 Presently bell rings, the first warn ing for visitors to go ashore. Late ar rivals dash up in cabs, the horses pant ing, the drivers excited.
 The crowd on shore moves toward the end of the pier. frantic waving of hands and handkerchiefs is begun, serving no special purpose, and only occasionally seen by those to whom it is directed; then a second bell is tolled.
 "All ashore; last call.
 The visitors swarm off. Pulleys are fastened to the gang blanks.
 "Everybody stand by" calls the pet ty officers.
 Ready !"-at this moment the usual last man is seen being driven down the wharf, the horse all foam. Two police men policemen yank him out; two sail ors grab his trunk, and he is rushed up to the already detached passageway.
 The officer on the bridge now gives his final order to least off The en- zine bell is rung, and slowly the great vessel glides out into the stream. Farewell trouble and worry for a week; no letters, telegrams. politics or daily papers; welcome fresh, bracing air and deep blue sea with limitless ho- rizon; or, awful thought, the sickness of the ocean for seven days.
 More good-bys which no one hears; ! more hand and handkerchleI waving, which no one can distinguish, and the boat fades away in the distance, min gling. with the other craft in the river. Back again everybody on the dock, to bad smelling, wretchedly-paved West street, settle down to counting rooms, offices and houses and toddle along in the old rut. Europe is not for this | summer.