h a slight pinch of my arm, 'whether you are
joking or not.'

The dinner was not a very appetising one, nor indeed the company over
seductive, so that I disappeared with the cloth, glad to find
myself once more in the open air, with the deck to myself; for my
fellow-travellers had, one and all, begun a very vigorous attack upon
sundry jugs of hot water and crucibles full of whisky, the fumes of
which, added to the heat, the smoke, and other disagreeables, made me
right happy to escape.

As the evening wore late, the noise and uproar grew louder and more
vociferous, and, had not frequent bursts of laughter proclaimed the
spirit of the conviviality, I should have been tempted to believe the
party were engaged in deadly strife. Sometimes a single narrator would
seem to hold the company in attentive silence; then a general chorus of
the whole would break in, with shouts of merriment, knocking of knuckles
on the table, stamping of feet, and other signs of approbation and
applause. As this had now continued for some time, and it was already
verging towards midnight, I began to grow impatient; for as sleep stole
over my eyelids, I was desirous of some little quiet, to indulge myself
in a nap. Blessings on my innocent delusion! the gentlemen below-stairs
had as much notion of swimming as sleeping. Of this a rapid glance
through a little window, at the extremity of the cabin, soon satisfied
me. As well as the steamed and heated glass would permit my seeing, the
scene was a strange one.

About forty persons were seated around a narrow table, so closely packed
that any attitude but the bolt upright was impracticable. There
they were, of every age and sex; some asleep with Welsh wigs and red
pocket-handkerchiefs screening their heads from cold, and their ears
as well as might be from uproar; some were endeavouring to read by the
light of mutton candles, with wicks like a light infantry feather, with
a nob at the head; others, with their heads bent down together, were
confidentially exchanging the secrets of the last market; while here and
there were scattered about little convivial knots of jolly souls, whose
noisy fun and loud laughter indicated but slight respect for their
drowsy neighbours.

The group, however, which attracted most of my attention was one near
the fire at the end. This consisted of his reverence Father Tom, a
stout, burly-looking old farmer opposite him, the austere lady from
Loughrea, and a little dried-up