rarely affected by the ship's motion."

Then he gave me some kind advice touching my conduct when I should
feel the symptoms of approaching _mal du mer_. I thanked him and
sought the deck. An hour after we passed Sandy Hook, my new
acquaintance succumbed to the evils that afflict landsmen who go down
to the sea in ships. Without any qualm of stomach or conscience, I
returned the advice he had proffered me. I did not suffer a moment
from the marine malady during that voyage, or any subsequent one.[A]

[Footnote A: A few years ago a friend gave me a prescription which he
said would prevent sea-sickness. I present it here as he wrote it.

"The night before going to sea, I take a blue pill (5 to 10 grains) in
order to carry the bile from the liver into the stomach. When I rise
on the following morning, a dose of citrate of magnesia or some
kindred substance finishes my preparation. I take my breakfast and all
other meals afterward as if nothing had happened."

I have used this prescription in my own case with success, and have
known it to benefit others.]

The voyage from New York to San Francisco has been so often 'done' and
is so well watered, that I shall not describe it in detail. Most of
the passengers on the steamer were old Californians and assisted in
endeavoring to make the time pass pleasantly. There was plenty of
whist-playing, story telling, reading, singing, flirtation, and a very
large amount of sleeping. So far as I knew, nobody quarreled or
manifested any disposition to be riotous. There was one passenger, a
heavy, burly Englishman, whose sole occupation was in drinking "arf