The deck of the steamer is strewn with freight and baggage of every imaginable description.  Emigrants laden with trunks, bedding, cooking utensils, etc., are stumbling confusedly about, now over boxes, now over exasperated sailors, to the intense disgust of these latter.  Men are cursing, women taking frantic leave of their friends, children crying, agents and officials with throats of brass shouting and endeavoring in vain to drive the emigrants below as they come on board from the tug, while loud above all is heard the  deafening noise of the steam as the engines are preparing for their long toil.

Being desirous of escaping the turmoil I mount a pile of boxes, and take my seat beside a nautical-looking individual who, from his eminence, is calmly watching the confusion below.  Immediately opposite us stands the Government Medical commissioner criticising the physique of the future American citizens as they step on board and file before him; for you must know that Uncle Sam permits none that are lame or halt or blind on his territory; that is , unless they can give satisfactory proof that they will not on landing be thrown on his hands for their support.  I had heard something about this before, and must confess had formed a somewhat exaggerated idea of the severity of the medical examination it would be necessary for me to pass.  Visions of my appearance in a remarkably primitive costume before a stern medical oracle, seated in a private room, had flitted across my brain.  I had anticipated all the abominable paraphernalia of medical apparatus for testing the quality of this mortal clay.  Nor did I consider my anticipations wholly incorrect when from the tug I caught sight of the professional-looking commissioner awaiting our arrival on the steamer.  I was still apprehensive lest he should detect in my slight figure the latent symptoms of consumption, yellow-fever, broken legs, or legs susceptible under slight contingencies of being broken, and the like.  However, I and three hundred others ran the gauntlet of those professional eyes with great facility; and I am much mistaken if while doing so I did not hear their owner mutter the words, ``Chancellor of the Exchequer" to a friend at his side, which leads me to suspect that the worthy commissioner was thinking more of the forthcoming ``Budget" than of Uncle Sam's Emigrants' Sanitary Law.

But I have been digressing.  Any lingering ideas of rigid examination which after this might have remained are now speedily dispelled as I sit beside my nautical companion watching the second batch of emigrants being ``examined."  Why, bless that benevolent medical commissioner!  Saint Bartholomew's Hospital, with all its inmates, might pass bodily before him without ever striking him that Uncle Sam might possible object to its landing.  ``Candidate for New York matrimonial market!" exclaims the nautical individual at my side, as an old Irishwoman of seventy or eighty, with rags streaming to the wind, hobbles past the commissioner.  ``Embryo filibuster," he continues, pointing to a villainous-looking youth of some eight summers, who follows.  ``Desirable recruit for light cavalry," amidst a roar of laughter, as Daniel Lambert's likeness rolls heavily past.  ``Latest acquisition to Barnum's," he finally exclaims, upon catching sight of the last emigrant, or rather an enormous mass of hair, beneath which was supposed to be the last emigrant.

All now being on board the commissioner and the eimigration agents take their leave, and shortly afterward the anchor is raised, the engines begin to clank, and the shores of England to recede from view.

But I am forgetting my berth.  My ticket states ``Berth No. 25, Steerage", and I think I had better hurry down and secure it before it is appropriated by some one else.  I no sooner find myself below than it becomes evident that, disorderly as had been the scene on deck, it is here confusion worse confounded.  Some two or three hundred individuals crowded together in dim passages are clamorously inquiring in various tongues for their berths.  The energetic steward, however, appears to be equal to the task, though in performing it he swears like a trooper, and by no means confines himself to words; when, as frequently happens, an unfortunate German or Frenchman obstinately persists in addressing him in what he calls their ``d--d gibberish."

``Now, then," exclaims the steward, seizing the nearest individual by the collar, ``What's your number?"

``Oui, oui, Monsieur!" replies the person addressed, who happens to be a Frenchman, and consequently shrugs his shoulders and attempts in spite of the crowd to make a bow.

``Your ticket!" roars the unceremonious Anglo-Saxon, seizing it at the same time form the bewildered Frenchman's hand. ``Number ninety-five;" and before the words are well out of his mouth the steward has administered to the Frenchman a not very gently incentive, which causes the latter to disappear somewhat suddenly through a neighboring aperture.

``Mein Gott!"  exclaims a German, who next presents his ticket, and ``Dunder und Blitzern," he continues, in a tone of violent indignation as, with a similar incentive, he too disappears after the Frenchman.

By such vigorous treatment the indefatigable steward at length succeeds in distributing those of his charge who have been unable to find their own berths.

Follow me now into the compartment in which I have discovered ``Berth No. 25."  The only standing room in it is a space two yards long by one broad, and to right and left of this rise three tiers of bunks.  Imagine the drawer frame of a chemist's shop destitute of its drawers, and you will be able to form a pretty good idea of these same bunks.  There are twenty of them in the compartment, and into each one the future occupant is busy putting what bedding he has provided himself with, as the company provides nothing excepting space and victuals.

I have not time now to take much notice of my fellow-travelers.  Poverty makes strange bedfellows, and I judge by the various tongues I hear around me that seven or eight at least of the States of Europe are represented in this little cabin.  When I get over the sickness which I feel instinctively is before me, I shall make it my business to study these various specimens of the human race.  In the mean time I, too, must make up as comfortable a bed as circumstances will permit.  I had just finished doing this, and was about to turn in for the night, when I heard a voice which appeared to come from the bottom of the sea, inquire in French for No. 26.