The Salt Lake Herald

THE EMIGRANT SHIP.
Its Horrors Depicted by Miss O'Brien.

London, 7.- Miss Charlotte G. O'Brien, daughter of Smith O'Brien, of "Young Ireland" fame, sends to the Pall Mall Gazette a letter entitled "Horrors of an Emigrant Ship," which creates a profound sensation, and will be the subject of question in the Commons, on Monday, by O'Donnell. Miss O'Brien visited Queenstown in order to examine the mode of life of emigrants on the steamer; which vessel, however, she did not name. Following are the main points: It is unnecessary to say that whenever the sacred foot of wealth trod on this ship all was gold and silver, shining brass, cleanliness, comfort and decency. We had come on board, however, to see emigrants, and we were determined to see their quarters first. When we saw the quarters of the single men, the description of a slave ship flashed across me. Below this place our guide showed us a deep hole, saying: "I could not take you down there, its much worse than you see." But my business was with the women's quarters, and we went there. Between two decks, better lighted than the men's quarters, was a large space open from one side of the ship to the other. From either side of a long central walk to the outer walks of the ship were slung two large hammocks, one suspended about three feet from the floor. What was going on in the two other hammocks above these I could not see. I presume they were the same as those below. I suppose each of these hammocks carry about 100 people. They were made of sail cloth, and being suspended all around from hooks, were perfectly flat. Narrow strips of sail cloth divide this great bed into berths. These strips of cloth, when mattresses were out, formed divisions about eight inches high. when mattresses are in it must be almost on a level. Now in these beds lie hundreds of men and women: any man who comes with a woman who is or who calls herself his wife, sleeps, as a matter of right, in the midst of hundreds of young women who are compelled to live in his presence day and night. If they remove their clothes, they must do so under his eyes. If they lie down to rest, it must be beside him. It is a shame even to speak of these things, but to destroy such an evil, it is necessary to look at these abodes of miseries. In daylight, when open for inspection, they are empty, swept and garnished, but think of the scene in the darkness of night; the ship pitching in mid-ocean, when a glimmering lamp or two makes visible to you this mass of moaning humanity. Look at that young mother with two or three helpless babes in agonies of sea-sickness, unable to move but over the prostrate bodies of her fellow-sufferers; look at this innocent girl child living among dissolute men and abandoned women, and half stupefied with suffocation and seasickness, amid curses and groans of hundreds. If she arises and flees to save her soul, whither shall she go? Again, she must tread on the writhing bodies of men and women—but the picture is too horrible to be looked at: the sound is too dreadful to listen to. This is no brutal or impure dream—it is truth. It is a living horror, menacing the lives, honor and souls of hundreds and thousands of our fellow country-women. The ship on which I saw these things is supposed to carry in this manner 1,000 steerage passengers. She carried last year, on one voyage, 1,775 emigrants.