It was a Leviathan we found ourselves upon; the largest boat--as they say--that ever has come to us. And certainly she carries more men than one ever expected to find afloat (in these waters) on one vessel--a kind of city full. So huge is she that you wonder, in the half-logical excitement of the first few hours, whether she will pitch on the open sea. "Sweet delusion!" smiles the quizzical reader; "you'll soon see." Well, we haven't seen. She has pitched hardly enough to upset the gentlest sucking-dove. That, however, is, perhaps, not all by virtue of our tonnage; so smooth a sea, and so consistently smooth, the tenderest liver could hardly hope for. There have, perhaps, a dozen men been ill; and what are they among so many? With a smooth start, such as we are blest with, notoriously weak sailors may even hope to get through without a spasm. At least there are those aboard amazed at their own heartiness. Is there any call to relate the daily routine on a troop-ship? Everyone at home, you say, knows it; it's all there is in most letters from the fleet. But all kind and patient readers of these notes may not have friends in the fleet. Well, then, _réveille_ blows providentially later than on shore--six o'clock; providentially and paradoxically, for who wants "a little more folding of the hands to sleep" at sea? Who, on land, does not, save the few fanatical or deranged? As many as can find ground-room there, sleep on deck, and have been peeping at the Day's-Eye for half an hour before the strident note crashes along the decks. He is _blasé_ and weary indeed who can lie insensible to the dawn here. There is one glory of the hills at sunrise; the sea hath another glory. On land you see the dawn in part, here the whole stately procession lies to your eye, and you see all the detail of the lengthening march defined by the gently heaving sea. He who sees it not has got well to the Devil! But whether you are of the Devil or not, you obey the summons to get up, and cut short your contemplation of the pageant. There is no before breakfast duty, except for a casual swabbing-fatigue. The men mess at seven on their troop-decks; the sergeants and officers at 8.30. Thereby hang two digressions. The troop-decks have been installed in the holds, or located where old passenger cabins have been knocked out. Much refitting of a liner, indeed, had been necessary to make of her a troop-ship. The troops have been quartered thus: the sergeants mess and sleep in the old dining-saloon; the officers' mess is the old music-room; both the smoke-room and gymnasium have been transferred into hospitals. The sergeants and the men sleep in hammocks slung above their mess-tables. The officers sleep in such cabins as are left standing.