It is not so showery and foggy as yesterday but still a
. strikes over on the upper deck. still a great many
are sick and every now and again you will see someone make hurriedly for the side of the vessel. Among the pleasant acquaintances formed today is that of a Mr. E. Thackery from Chicago. A man of some means, an Englishman by birth, who is compelled for Europe on account of his health. I think him one of the fairest minded men I have met, being by nature disposed to do by others as he would have them do to him. Another very pleasant young man is Mr. Mackie, a Scottish American, who with his mother is going to Scotland, on account of the condition of his health. Among the saloon passengers is a minister, I should judge of the Episcopal persuasion named Rev. T. J. Drumm who seems so foolishly devoted to some lady companions as to make himself appear ridiculous. Taking our passengers all in all at the end of the second day out, they
are all pleasing and agreeable.

Saturday June 25, 1887

          Went to bed at half past eight last evening and lay until
6 this morning. I awoke and dressed myself but did not walk very much before breakfast. Last night was much warmer than
the night previous and many passengers complained of the heat and how they sweat last night. On deck this morning I had a
chat with a Captain Keyser of Portland, Maine. A passenger in the saloon who gave me many points about boating and ships
and etc.. Like all good sailors he can spin a yarn so as to occasion much merriment. I have been much gratified and pleased today to see the log line used and had the pleasure of getting a small piece of gulf weed which was brought up by it. All
the seamen take pleasure in explaining the many things about the boat, and passengers and seamen seem very familiar.

          The sick man Abbott this p.m. put in an appearance on deck looking more like a dead than a live man. One member of his body is however more active than the rest, and that is his tongue. One large Englishman on board - saloon passenger - named Jones is long to be remembered. He is every bit the typical Englishman of the illustrated press, with probably a little more of the Fakir about him. First he will appear in a drab check suit including an immense cloak large enough for a shroud, then again he is to be seen in a spotless suit of


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