eart clings to home reminiscences when absent
from that spot. A party of emigrants had taken passage, amongst whom
was a young Swiss girl, accompanied by a small brother. Not even the
_outre_ admixture of Swiss, German, and English costume, which
composed her dress, could conceal the fact that she was supremely
beautiful; and as the emigrants were separated from what is termed the
first-class passengers only by a slight railing, I had an opportunity
of inspecting her appearance without giving offence by marked
observation. Amongst the crowd there happened to be a set of German
musicians, who, by amusing the _ennuied_ passengers, reaped quite a
harvest of silver for their exertions. I have always heard that the
Germans were extremely fond of music, and was surprised that none of
the party, not even the beautiful Swiss girl, gave the slightest
indication of pleasure, or once removed from the position they had
occupied the whole way. Indeed, I was becoming quite indignant, that
the soul-stirring Marseilles Hymn of France, the God Save the Queen of
England, and last, not _least_ in its impressive melody, the Hail
Columbia of our own nation, should have pealed its music out upon the
great waters, almost hushing their mighty swell with its enchantment,
and yet not waken an echo in the hearts of those homeless wanderers.
The musicians paused to rest for a moment, and then suddenly, as if by
magic, the glorious _Rans des Vache_ of Switzerland stole over the
water, with its touching pathos swelling into grand sublimity, its
home-music melting away in love, and then bursting forth in the free,
glad strains of revelry, till every breath was hushed as by the
presence of visible beauty. Having never before heard this beautiful
melody, in my surprise and admiration I had quite forgotten my
emigrant friends, when a low sob attracted my attention, and turning
round, I saw the Swiss girl, with her head buried in the lap of an old
woman, trying to stifle the tears that _would_ force their way or
break the heart that held them. I had but a slight knowledge of the
Swiss dialect, and "my home, my beautiful home!" was the only words
intelligible to me. She wept long and bitterly after the cadence of
the song was lost amongst the waves, while the old woman, blessings on
her for the act, sought by every endearment within her power to soothe
and encourage the home-sick girl. There was little enow of refinement
in her rough sympathy, but it was a