over what the second move
may be. Several ladies draw the curtains that hang in a semi-circle
before each nest--instantly I whisk mine smartly together, and then
peep out to see what next. Gradually, on hooks above the blue and
yellow drapery, appear the coats and bonnets of my neighbors, while
their boots and shoes, in every imaginable attitude, assert themselves
below, as if their owners had committed suicide in a body. A violent
creaking, scrambling, and fussing, causes the fact that people are
going regularly to bed to dawn upon my mind. Of course they are; and so
am I--but pause at the seventh pin, remembering that, as I was born to
be drowned, an eligible opportunity now presents itself; and, having
twice escaped a watery grave, the third immersion will certainly
extinguish my vital spark. The boat is new, but if it ever intends to
blow up, spring a leak, catch afire, or be run into, it will do the
deed to-night, because I'm here to fulfill my destiny. With tragic
calmness I resign myself, replace my pins, lash my purse and papers
together, with my handkerchief, examine the saving circumference of my
hoop, and look about me for any means of deliverance when the moist
moment shall arrive; for I've no intention of folding my hands and
bubbling to death without an energetic splashing first. Barrels,
hen-coops, portable settees, and life-preservers do not adorn the
cabin, as they should; and, roving wildly to and fro, my eye sees no
ray of hope till it falls upon a plump old lady, devoutly reading in
the cabin Bible, and a voluminous night-cap. I remember that, at the
swimming school, fat girls always floated best, and in an instant my
plan is laid. At the first alarm I firmly attach myself to the plump
lady, and cling to her through fire and water; for I feel that my old
enemy, the cramp, will seize me by the foot, if I attempt to swim; and,
though I can hardly expect to reach Jersey City with myself and my
baggage in as good condition as I hoped, I might manage to get picked
up by holding to my fat friend; if not it will be a comfort to feel
that I've made an effort and shall die in good society. Poor dear
woman! how little she dreamed, as she read and rocked, with her cap in
a high state of starch, and her feet comfortably cooking at the
register, what fell designs were hovering about her, and how intently a
small but determined eye watched her, till it suddenly closed.

Sleep got the better of fear to such an exte