passing three or four months at a time on the ocean, I should have
said, "What an idea! Here I am, born and brought up in a small New
Hampshire town, in a family whose idea seems to be to keep as far
away from the water as possible, and with no thought of ever
crossing it, 'Unless,' as my father used to say, 'there should be a
bridge built by which we could do so'."

In fact my knowledge of a ship and its belongings was nearly equal
to that of the young lady who was about to make her first trip
across the ocean with her father. Seeing the sailors about to weigh
anchor she inquired why they were working so hard. Her father replied,
"They are weighing the anchor, my dear." "How absurd! If the Captain
wants to know the weight of the anchor why doesn't he have it
weighed beforehand and not wait until we get ready to start and then
keep us waiting for the men to weigh it?"

However, it is the unexpected that always happens, and one day I
married a young sea captain from a seaport town. He was soon to sail
for Australia, and to me such a trip was literally going to the ends
of the earth. I feel sure that my parents never expected me to return.
What preparations we made for that voyage! What pickles, preserves,
cakes, and everything that would keep, were packed for me and sent
aboard our ship which was lying in New York harbor!

Our cabins were beautifully fitted up with every convenience and
comfort that we could have on shore. The saloon, or after-cabin, was
finished in bird's-eye maple and satin wood veneering. Wilton
carpets and furnishings of raw silk made a homelike and attractive
room. Our stateroom, with large double bed, and our own private bath
opening from the stateroom, left us nothing to wish for in the line