darkness
visible. He questioned his guide as to how far they were from the
bottom, cautiously and nervously. "Oh," said the Swede, "about a mile."
"A mile!" replied the Cockney: "shall we ever get there?"--"I don't
know," said the guide. "Why, does any accident ever happen?"--"Yes,
often."--"How long ago was the last accident, and what was it?"--"Last
week, one of our women went down, and when she had got just where we are
now, the rope broke."--"Oh, Heaven!" ejaculated the inquisitive
traveller, "what happened to her?" The Swede, who did not speak very
good English, put the palm of his right hand over that of his left,
lifted the upper hand, slapped them together with a clap, and said, most
phlegmatically--"Flat as a pankakka."

I once crossed Ontario, in the same direction as that just mentioned, in
another steamer, when the beautiful Ontario was in a towering passion.
We had a poor fellow in the cabin, who had been a Roman Catholic priest,
but who had changed his form of faith. The whole vessel was in
commotion; it was impossible for the best sea-legs to hold on; so two
or three who were not subject to seasickness got into the cabin, or
saloon, as it is called, and grasped any thing in the way. The long
dinner-table, at which fifty people could sit down, gave a lee-lurch,
and jammed our poor _religioner_, as Southey so affectedly calls
ministers of the word, into a corner, where chairs innumerable were soon
piled over him. He abandoned himself to despair; and long and loud were
his confessions. On the first lull, we extricated him, and put him into
a birth. Every now and then, he would call for the steward, the mate,
the captain, the waiters, all in vain, all were busy. At last his cries
brought down the good-natured captain. He asked if we were in danger.
"Not entirely," was the reply. "What is it does it, captain?"--"Oh,"
said the skipper, gruffly enough, "we are in the trough of the sea, and
something has happened to the engine." "The trough of the _say_?"--my
friend was an Irishman--"the trough of the say? is it that does it,
captain?" But the captain was gone.

During the whole storm and the remainder of the voyage, the poor
ex-priest asked every body that passed his refuge if we were out of the
trough of the say. "I know," said he, "it is the trough of the say does
it." No cooking could be performed, and we should have gone dinnerless
and supperless to bed, if we had not, by force of steam, got into the
mouth