Whole books might be written about the engines of an ocean greyhound. To inspect the engines thoroughly you go down through four decks. Every bit of machinery is constantly watched. A record is kept of every turn of the screw, of every engine's work. The chief engineer has three first assistants, and one of these three is always on duty. The engine-room is like a gigantic roaring factory--it is a factory that makes power for pushing the ship along. The four large dynamos that produce electricity for lighting and other uses are also in the vast engine-room. So is the machine that makes ice for the ship. This, by-the-way, is almost a magical apparatus. In it is made all the ice used by the ship's company, and from it pipes are led that supply the refrigerating-rooms. There are two of these immense refrigerators. They are on the fourth deck--away below the water-line. As nearly every article of food for the round trip is purchased in this country, practically all the perishable food is stored in these refrigerators--one being known as the "East-bound," and the other the "West-bound." The immense amount of provisions carried is something hard to imagine. A ship like the _New York_ or the _St. Paul_, for example, takes 25,000 pounds of beef, more than three tons of game and poultry, 18,000 eggs, and other things in proportion. The law requires that enough provisions be carried to feed the ship's people for twenty-four additional days, in case of accident. We carry much more than that amount. In the refrigerating-rooms are also carried enough flowers to adorn the tables all the way to England and back. Most of you, perhaps, think of an ocean greyhound as a swift-going floating hotel. I think you will admit she is more--that she is one of the greatest wonders of the deep. J. K. JAMISON. THE EARLY WORK OF THE AUTHOR OF "BEN-HUR." BY MATTIE DYER BRITTS. The writer of this sketch has no need to depend upon the evidence of others for the facts given; she has but to cross a shady street and tap at the most hospitable door in the wide world, to sit at her ease in the fine old library enriched by the gifts of a king, and talk with General Wallace or his wife. It was upon an occasion like this that she remarked: "General, the people who are so much interested in your work sometimes wonder how you came to begin it. Would you be willing to give us an idea of your method?" "Method?" was the reply, with the genial smile and flash of the keen dark eye which still renews the youth of the veteran warrior-poet. "I have no method. If my composition has any excellence, set it down, first and last, to that simple fact. In writing, as in speech, I think that modes of expression should depend upon feeling--not studied, but the impulse of the moment." "But you had a method of study in your school-days?"