MARK TWAIN

Sunday morning, June 9. Still lying at anchor in N. Y.
harbor—rained all night and all morning like the devil—
some sea on—lady had to leave church in the cabin—
seasick.

Tableau—in the midst of sermon Capt. Duncan rushed
madly out with one of those damned dogs, but didn't
throw him overboard.

But speaking of seasickness, there certainly are more
seasick people on the ship than there ought to be. I am
more than ever satisfied now that we ought to have
put to sea in the storm of Saturday. The ship is strong
and could have weathered it easily and everybody would
have had a fearful 4 hours siege of seasickness and then
been over and done with it.

Diaries

Most of the passengers being unaccustomed to voyaging
are diligently keeping diaries.

He furnishes a supposed example.
Of a Lady

First Day—the ships rolls and pitches, and O, I am so
sick.

Second Day—We met an immigrant ship today, full of
Irish people. From Ireland, doubtless. Our captain got
on the paddle-box and shouted: "Ship wo'haw!" or some-
thing like that, and the other captain shouted back
through a horn and said he had been out 30 days. Then
we started away and gave the immigrants 3 cheers and
waved our handkerchiefs and they gave us 3 cheers also,
but did not wave their handkerchiefs, but we thought
nothing of it, because as they had been out 30 days their
handkerchiefs were all dirty, likely. Still, I am so seasick.

Third Day—Mrs. S. who has got her face so sunburned
since we left N. Y. made a conundrum on the promenade