daughters in vast states whose names you are utterly ignorant of; and as
for the exportation of her products to foreign lands, just come with me
on board this ocean steamship "Samaria", and look at them. The good ship
has run down the channel during the night and now lies at anchor in
Queenstown harbour, waiting for mails and passengers. The latter came,
quickly and thickly enough. No poor, ill-fed, miserably dressed crowd,
but fresh, and fair, and strong, and well clad, the bone and muscle and
rustic beauty of the land; the little steam-tender that plies from the
shore to the ship is crowded at every trip, and you can scan them as they
come on board in batches of seventy or eighty. Some eyes among the girls
are red with crying, but tears dry quickly on young cheeks, and they will
be laughing before an hour is over. "Let them go," says the economist;
"we have too many mouths to feed in these little islands of ours; their
going will give us more room, more cattle, more chance to keep our acres
for the few'; let them go." My friend, that is just half the picture, and
no more; we may get a peep at the other half before you and I part.

It was about five o'clock in the afternoon of the 4th of May when the
"Samaria" steamed slowly between the capes of Camden and Carlisle, and
rounding out into Atlantic turned her head towards the western horizon.
The ocean lay unruffled along the rocky headlands of Ireland's southmost
shore. A long line of smoke hanging suspended between sky and sea marked
the unseen course of another steamship farther away to the south. A
hill-top, blue and lonely, rose above the rugged coast-line, the far-off
summit of some inland mountain; and as evening came down over the still
tranquil ocean and the vessel clove her outward way through
phosphorescent water, the lights along the iron coast grew fainter in
distance till there lay around only the unbroken circle of the sea.

ON BOARD.-A trip across the Atlantic is now-a-days a very ordinary