Relatively the machinery of the _Princess Ida_ was simplicity itself. She had three propellers that _looked_ inadequate to move so vast a bulk. There were no quadruple expansion-balanced engines with cylinders of 28, 41, 58, and 84 inches in diameter, and no bewildering gathering of cranks, pistons, rods, and levers, but the shafts were coupled direct to enormous electric motors which turned them with resistless force, without the loss involved in the use of a long propeller-shaft. There was no escaping steam, no heat, no stuffy stokehold and fierce boilers, no smell of oil and waste, and the ventilation was almost as perfect as on deck. Going on board by the central gangway reserved for foot-passengers, one entered a splendid hall fifty feet high and a hundred feet square, resembling the lounge saloon of a big hotel, with glass dome-shaped skylight above--a winter garden with beds of flowers and groups of sea-loving palms at the side, kept-renewed throughout the voyage; seductive easy-chairs and couches scattered about; tables here and there, covered with periodicals and writing material; while at one end of a platform, used by the ship’s band, and forming a miniature stage, was a grand piano backed by a handsome curtain of peacock-blue plush, and, facing it, a fine organ, both instruments strictly reserved for public entertainments, theatrical and otherwise. The walls of this beautiful saloon were of polished New Zealand woods, Kauri pine predominating, than which a lighter and more elegant wainscot can hardly be imagined. Fireplaces with ornate overmantels burnt logs of wood--a sacrifice to conventionality and sentiment, as they were not required for warmth, the ship being lighted and heated throughout by electricity. In general arrangement the interior of the ship reminded one of a modern hotel, and the illusion was heightened by the port-holes on the main or second deck being so arranged as to resemble plate-glass windows set in frames of great strength, and when the vessel began to move on the waters it was as if a section of the Cecil Hotel had floated off into the river. But, though beautifully furnished, the ship was not overdone with meaningless decoration. Mirrors were restricted in number, and there was but little gilding. Rare paintings of ships, birds, and flowers were on the walls, while wood-carvings in the style of Grinling Gibbons and delicate French bronzes beautified unsightly corners. All the decks were covered with india-rubber laid over fireproof planking, reducing noise to a minimum, those below the upper deck being carpeted; and as all the doors were sliding and shut noiselessly, the general effect of quietude was delightful, even the electric gongs being subdued in tone.