The following is a sailor's account of what travel to America was like for the passengers on the average ship in the 1800's. It is taken from "The Merchant Vessel: A Sailor Boy's Voyages to See the World," published in 1856. "American vessels generally carry away from Liverpool, as return cargo, railroad iron, cotton prints, crockery, soda, etc. and passengers. This was our cargo. No sooner was our cotton and ballast out, than we began to take in return cargo of railroad iron, and crates of crockery ware. With this, and a great number of water casks, to supply the passengers with drinking water, the lower hold was filled. The between decks, or steerage, was then fitted up with two rows of hastily constructed berths, and we were ready to take our departure. We were to take one hundred and fifty passengers, who came on board the morning on which we went out of dock. They were all Irish, and a tolerably rough-looking set, but withal, having about them that thorough-going Irish characteristic of being ready to lend a helping hand whenever there was work going on. We lay over night in the river, as the wind was dead ahead to go out. Next morning, when we were about to weigh anchor. the windlass was manned for us by a party of passengers, who made but one demand, vis: to sing for them some sailor songs. Accordingly our chanty-man was called for. Said he, 'now, just wait, I'll set all the men and women crying before you know it.' He struck up to rather a slow and plaintive tune, an old capstan song, which begins as follows: "We're going away from friends and home, Chorus - Oh sailors where are you bound to, We're going away to hunt for gold, Chorus - Across thr briny ocean, Father and mother say good-bye, Chorus - Sailors where are you bound to, Oh sisters, brothers, don't you cry, Chorus - Across the briny ocean." They had come up on deck laughing and talking, but the first two stanzas of this plaintive old song had not been sung, when all the women had their aprons to their eyes, and the men were not long in following suit, the fellows who had manned the windless, dropping the brakes, and sobbing like children. It was rather a cruel sport, I thought, yet I would scarcely have believed that they would have been so easily affected. We had to pay for our fun, by heaving the anchor up ourselves, and were glad to start up a more cheerful tune, to win Paddy back to his usual bright spirits. For the first week out, it being late in the fall, we experienced rough weather, and our passengers suffered dreadfully with sea-sickness. Living in a crowded and miserably dirty hole, the stench arising from which was enough to make any one sick, half frightened out of their wits at what they supposed to be the imminently dangerous situation of the vessel, it was a wonder that many of them did not die. For eight or ten days they showed themselves but little on deck, but lay in their berths day and night, muttering prayers for a safe deliverance from the dangers of the sea. But little cooking was done by them, and their meager allowance was mostly wasted or thrown away. And upon return of fine weather, men who, when we left port, were stout and hearty, came up, looking as though just arisen from a long sick bed. Once cured of their sickness, they grew ravenously hungry, and besieged their scantily furnished cooking-range night and day, to get a chance to make themselves a warm mess. Poor souls, many of them lived on hard bread and raw meat, the greater part of the passage, and paid dearly enough in the misery they suffered, for the riches which they all expected to gain, on this side the Atlantic. The greater portion of them entertained the wildest conceptions of the country they were about to make their home. Few of them had any definite ideas of the relative situations of different States. Some thought the United states to be the name of a very large city in "Ameriky," and asked if it was as large as Liverpool or London. Others had come on board firmly convinced that our passage could not possibly last more than ten or twelve days. Several asked if of a truth, there was in Ameriky a Gold street; and judging from the ignorance they displayed, there is no good reason to doubt the truth of the story told of a newly arrived Irishman, who, going up the wharf, saw a silver dollar lying in his path, but spurning it contemptuously with his foot, refused to pick it up, saying "I'll wait till I get to Gold street, and pick up none but the yellow boys." The accommodations for deck passengers, even on the best packet ships, are of the poorest kind. There are no rooms or divisions, the entire steerage being in one large apartment. There can, therefore, be no privacy at all. The bunks, or berths, are made very large, and from six to ten persons sleep in each, men, women, and children pigging in together. As accommodations for cooking purposes for one hundred and fifty persons, we had two ranges, capable each of holding not over four small kettles. Many, therefore, never had a mouthful of warm victuals from day to day. All other accommodations are on the same scale. Low as is the passage price, many find it beyond their means, and scarcely a vessel leaves Liverpool for the United States that has not on board some stowaways. Careful search is always made when about to sail, but there are many hiding-places where they cannot be readily found. With us, one man, who had only means sufficient to pay his own passage, but had his wife to take along, actually put her into a large chest, in which she was brought on board, remaining in this concealment till we were fairly out at sea. Then the implicit confidence with which these people venture upon a strange land, without means or friends, always seemed to me a matter for surprise. There were some among our passengers, that had not actually enough cash to support them the first week after their landing. I overlooked one day five men, two of whom were married, counting over their means, and among the entire party they could muster but twenty-six English shillings, a little over six dollars." The chapter continues about the sailor and sea life after their landing in Philadelphia. There is no mention on which particular ship this voyage was made from Liverpool to Philadelphia nor passenger names, but I found this description interesting and enjoyable reading, and hope you do too. Maryann