don't want
any breakfast; we want to sleep." "I won't." "Goodnight, pa; goodnight,
ma. Ma?" "What is it, dear?" "Good-night, ma." "Good-night, pet."
Alas for youthful expectations! Pet shared her stateroom with a young
companion, and the two were carrying on a private dialogue during
this public performance. Did these young ladies, after keeping all the
passengers of the boat awake till near the summer dawn, imagine that
it was in the power of pa and ma to insure them the coveted forenoon
slumber, or even the morning snooze? The travelers, tossing in their
state-room under this domestic infliction, anticipated the morning
with grim satisfaction; for they had a presentiment that it would be
impossible for them to arise and make their toilet without waking up
every one in their part of the boat, and aggravating them to such an
extent that they would stay awake. And so it turned out. The family
grumbling at the unexpected disturbance was sweeter to the travelers
than all the exchange of family affection during the night.

No one, indeed, ought to sleep beyond breakfast-time while sailing along
the southern coast of Prince Edward Island. It was a sparkling morning.
When we went on deck we were abreast Cape Traverse; the faint outline of
Nova Scotia was marked on the horizon, and New Brunswick thrust out Cape
Tomentine to greet us. On the still, sunny coasts and the placid sea,
and in the serene, smiling sky, there was no sign of the coming tempest
which was then raging from Hatteras to Cape Cod; nor could one imagine
that this peaceful scene would, a few days later, be swept by a fearful
tornado, which should raze to the ground trees and dwelling-houses,
and strew all these now inviting shores with wrecked ships and drowning
sailors,--a storm which has passed into literature in "The Lord's-Day
Gale" of Mr Stedman.

Through this delicious weather why should the steamboat hasten, in order
to discharge its passengers into the sweeping unrest of continental
travel? Our eagerness to get on, indeed, almost melted away, and we were
scarcely impatient at all when the boat lounged into Halifax Bay, past
Salutation Point and stopped at Summerside. This little seaport is
intended to be attractive, and it would give these travelers great
pleasure to describe it, if they could at all remember how it looks. But
it is a place that, like some faces, makes no sort of impression on
the memory. We went ashore there, and tried to take an int