of the earth is something like an inch to the mile, so that the funnels of a ship would not disappear under five hundred miles, if one could see that far. Three hours after we passed the "Lusiana," it was a mere speck on the horizon, but we could plainly see its hull. After it had entirely disappeared from view by the naked eye, we could see its hull with the aid of glasses. The ships were probably fifteen miles apart when we finally lost sight of the "Lusiana," and the difference between them, in the curvature of the earth, did not exceed fifteen inches. . . . The hull of the "Canada" is white, and it must have presented a very pretty sight to the passengers on the "Lusiana," who were all of one class: emigrants. But down below, the "Canada" is probably a little untidy. Everything below its two top decks is crowded with emigrants, and they are not very clean. In the evening, they sing a great deal; a trombone-player, en route to New York to join an Italian band, leads with his instrument. Among the first-class passengers is an Italian opera-singer who is about as good as any of the second-rate tenors at the Metropolitan Opera House, and he sings every evening. . . . Nearly all the emigrants seem to wear home-made socks and shoes. Most of them are young men; I doubt if there are two hundred women in the entire lot. Many of them have been over before, and will return home when outdoor work ceases next winter, as the price of the passage is only $25. The weather is chilly, and the emigrants sit on deck wrapped in blankets furnished them by the steamship company. In addition to a blanket, each is given a sack stuffed with straw, and on these they sleep.
