ts, the crumbs of which still
clung to their garments; others had the blue, ghostly look of unwonted
early risers, shivering with the chill morning air and the faint heart
which a fasting stomach entails; some, the latest comers of all, were
quite breathless, and were nervously holding on to the gloves, veils,
shawls, or over-shoes caught up at the last moment and only half put on
or adjusted.

Here comes a party of young people, however, lads and lasses, whose high
spirits triumph over all the inconveniences of the hour, and who, as
they rush laughingly on board, seem to defy the steamer to have started
without so important an addition to the joyousness of the occasion as
they represent. A group of elderly Scotch folk, anxious, bewildered, and
fussy, are congratulating themselves, on the contrary, that they are
just in time and "weel ower" the perils of embarkation. Here is a sallow
clergyman whose dress and expression proclaim him an English churchman;
he and his cadaverous wife, who seems, from her slightly pretentious
air, to have, as the English say, "blood" (a very little blood _I_
should judge in this case); both have a worn and melancholy appearance,
which is, I suspect, chronic, and not wholly due to the occasion. And,
why, whom have we here? we have certainly seen those girls before, who
are hurrying across the plank just as the last bell is ringing its last
stroke. Yes, to be sure, they are the same trio whom we found on board
the steamer which we took at Inversnaid on Loch Lomond, one day, when we
were returning toward sunset from a visit to Loch Katrine and the
Trosachs. Christie and I remember them perfectly, they and their young
brother seated in a picturesque group on the little upper deck, each
with open sketch-book copying Nature at the moment, or carrying out some
design conceived earlier in the day; their mother, the same self-poised
mammoth Englishwoman of marvellous physique and perfect equanimity of
forces who accompanies them to-day, seated at a little distance, the
occasional superintendent and invariable referee of their work and
progress. Their "papa" is of the party this time,--a tall, gray-haired
gentleman, old enough to be venerable, young enough to have the promise
of half a score of years or more yet in which to serve his country,--a
gentleman whose sweet dignity and serene self-possession entitle him at
a glance to the encomium once bestowed involuntarily by some English
friends of mine