You soon settle into a routine. Early salt bath to which your steward calls you on schedule time, a cup of black coffee, breakfast at nine. Perhaps you have already been on deck and greeted your fellow-passengers, as they all do, “Have you slept well?” After breakfast a “constitutional” on deck, pausing now and then at the end railing to look down a few feet upon the five hundred steerage passengers, the common details of whose lives are very public. They are nearly all barefooted, fearfully dirty, and you gratefully watch the ship’s doctor going among them with energetic disinfectants, and take perhaps your first lesson in seeing English officers control the ignorant and unclean Latin. Your admiration rises; for their discipline is perfect even of this temporary charge. The “Nile” carries a thousand souls. Among those poor steerage people there are nearly always deaths at sea, but all is managed with quietness and consideration, and you probably will not know when the sorrowful burials take place. You have had your walk, or your energetic game of ring-toss or shuffle-board, and sit down to rest and read, when up comes a charming young English passenger and says, “May I include you in our sweepstakes for the ladies?” and you may be as ignorant as I and answer “Yes,” in response. “Two shillings, please;” and your best friend will explain to you that you have been betting on the ship’s run for the day. If you say no, you will probably be the only woman on the ship, rich or poor, who has no chance to win, and you must be as gracious and clever as you know how to make up for your incomprehensible Puritanism. At 12.30 P.M. the ship’s run is posted, and by the time that excitement is over you go to luncheon. At 4 o’clock comes the cozy cup of tea, when perhaps some English lady will give you a slice of delicious cake she has brought from the famous Buzzard’s in London, and you will offer her American ginger snaps crisp from the can in return. When you left England your 7 o’clock dinner not only began, but ended in broad daylight. As you near the equator the days shorten rapidly until at 6 o’clock you see the sun at the horizon, take out your watch, in three minutes you are in darkness without twilight. A week later when you land at Rio de Janeiro the sun will set at 5.15 P. M. You change temperature as well as the length of your days. Leaving England with cool weather and thick clothing, you graduate yourself into the lightest of raiment soon after leaving Lisbon. The water, the air and the sides of your cabin all maintain a temperature of 82° day and night for five or six days, and you keep yourself sheltered from the hotter rays of the sun.