s, in which every one
particular place was proved incontestably to be more particularly suited
to us than any other, and the committee sat for three weeks, at the end
of which, upon examining the matured opinions of the last seven days, I
found them to have fluctuated as follows:--

Monday morning, Manheim. Evening, Spa.

Tuesday morning, Bruges. Evening Brussels.

Wednesday morning, Saint Omer. Evening, Boulogne.

Thursday morning, Havre. Evening Honfleur.

Friday morning, Dieppe. Evening, Passy.

Saturday morning, Versailles. Evening, Saint Germain.

Sunday morning, Spa. Evening, Brussels.

The fact was, that there was a trifling difference of opinion in the
committee--the great object appeared to be, and the great difficulty at
the same time, to find a place which would suit all parties, that is to
say, a place where there were no politics, plenty of gaiety, and cheap
peaches.

CHAPTER THREE.

Paddle, paddle--splash, splash--bump, thump, bump. What a leveller is
sea-sickness--almost as great a radical as death. All grades, all
respect, all consideration are lost. The master may summon John to his
assistance, but John will see his master hanged before he'll go to him;
he has taken possession of his master's great coat, and he intends to
keep _it--he_ don't care for warning.

The nurses no longer look after the infant or the children, they may
tumble overboard--even the fond yearnings of the mother at last yield to
the overwhelming sensation, and it it were not for the mercenary or
kind-hearted assistance of those who have become habituated to the
motion of a vessel, there is no saying how tragical might be the
commencement of many a party of pleasure to the Continent.

"O lauk, Mary, do just hold this child," says the upper nurse to her
assistant; "I do feel such a _sinking_ in my stomach."

"Carn't indeed, nurse, I've such a _rising_."

Away hurried both the women at once to the side of the vessel, leaning
over and groaning heavily. As for the children, they would soon have
been past caring for, had it not been for my protecting arms.

Decorum and modesty, next to maternal tenderness, the strongest feelings
in woman, fall before the dire prostratiou of this malady. A young lady
will recline unwittingly in the arms of a perfect stranger, and the
bride of three months, deserted by her husband, will offer no resistance
to the uncouth seaman, who, in his kindness, would loosen the laces