The emigrants were now all on deck. They were densely crowded aft, and swarmed upon the poop-deck like bees. Two or three Mormon agents stood ready to hand them on to the Inspector, and to hand them forward when they had passed. By what successful means, a special aptitude for organisation had been infused into these people, I am, of course, unable to report. But I know that, even now, there was no disorder, hurry, or difficulty. All being ready, the first group are handed on. That member of the party who is entrusted with the passenger-ticket for the whole, has been warned by one of the agents to have it ready, and here it is in his hand. In every instance through the whole eight hundred, without an exception, this paper is always ready. INSPECTOR (reading the ticket). Jessie Jobson, Sophronia Jobson, Jessie Jobson again, Matilda Jobson, William Jobson, Jane Jobson, Matilda Jobson again, Brigham Jobson, Leonardo Jobson, and Orson Jobson. Are you all here? (glancing at the party, over his spectacles). JESSIE JOBSON NUMBER TWO. All here, sir. This group is composed of an old grandfather and grandmother, their married son and his wife, and _their_ family of children. Orson Jobson is a little child asleep in his mother’s arms. The Doctor, with a kind word or so, lifts up the corner of the mother’s shawl, looks at the child’s face, and touches the little clenched hand. If we were all as well as Orson Jobson, doctoring would be a poor profession. INSPECTOR. Quite right, Jessie Jobson. Take your ticket, Jessie, and pass on. And away they go. Mormon agent, skilful and quiet, hands them on. Mormon agent, skilful and quiet, hands next party up. INSPECTOR (reading ticket again). Susannah Cleverly and William Cleverly. Brother and sister, eh? SISTER (young woman of business, hustling slow brother). Yes, sir. INSPECTOR. Very good, Susannah Cleverly. Take your ticket, Susannah, and take care of it. And away they go. INSPECTOR (taking ticket again). Sampson Dibble and Dorothy Dibble (surveying a very old couple over his spectacles, with some surprise). Your husband quite blind, Mrs. Dibble? MRS. DIBBLE. Yes, sir, he be stone-blind. MR. DIBBLE (addressing the mast). Yes, sir, I be stone-blind. INSPECTOR. That’s a bad job. Take your ticket, Mrs. Dibble, and don’t lose it, and pass on. Doctor taps Mr. Dibble on the eyebrow with his forefinger, and away they go. INSPECTOR (taking ticket again). Anastatia Weedle. ANASTATIA (a pretty girl, in a bright Garibaldi, this morning elected by universal suffrage the Beauty of the Ship). That is me, sir. INSPECTOR. Going alone, Anastatia? ANASTATIA (shaking her curls). I am with Mrs. Jobson, sir, but I’ve got separated for the moment. INSPECTOR. Oh! You are with the Jobsons? Quite right. That’ll do, Miss Weedle. Don’t lose your ticket.