forth in all the unblushing front of selfishness and self-interest.

Some tender scenes yet find their place amid the debris of this chaotic
state. Here may be seen a careful mother adjusting innumerable shawls
and handkerchiefs round the throat of a sea-green young lady with a
cough; her maid is at the same instant taking a tender farewell of the
steward in the after-cabin.

Here is a very red-faced and hot individual, with punch-coloured breeches
and gaiters, disputing "one brandy too much" in his bill, and vowing that
the company shall hear of it when he returns to England. There, a tall,
elderly woman, with a Scotch-grey eye, and a sharp cheek-bone, is
depositing within her muff various seizable articles, that, until now,
had been lying quietly in her trunk. Yonder, that raw-looking young
gentleman, with the crumpled frock-coat, and loose cravat, and sea-sick
visage, is asking every one "if they think he may land without a
passport." You scarcely recognise him for the cigar-smoking dandy of
yesterday, that talked as if he had lived half his life on the continent.
While there, a rather pretty girl is looking intently at some object in
the blue water, beside the rudder post. You are surprised you cannot
make it out; but then, she has the advantage of you, for the tall,
well-looking man, with the knowing whiskers, is evidently whispering
something in her ear.

"Steward, this is not my trunk--mine was a leather--"

"All the 'leathers' are gone in the first boat, sir."

"Most scandalous way of doing business."

"Trouble you for two-and-sixpence, sir."

"There's Matilda coughing again," says a thin, shrewish woman, with a
kind of triumphant scowl at her better half; "but you would have her wear
that thin shawl!"

"Whatever may be the fault of the shawl, I fancy no one will reproach her
ancles for thinness," murmurs a young Guard's man, as he peeps up the
companion-ladder.

Amid all the Babel of tongues, and uproar of voices, the thorough bass of
the escape steam keeps up its infernal thunders, till the very brain
reels, and, sick as you have been of the voyage, you half wish yourself
once more at sea, if only to have a moment of peace and tranquillity.

Numbers now throng the deck who have never made their appearance before.
Pale, jaundiced, and crumpled, they have all the sea-sick look and
haggard cheek of the real martyr--all except one, a stout, swarthy,
brown-visaged man, of about forty, with a frame o