lifted along the deck, while many of the emigrants volunteered to give
up their berths. I remember how delightful I felt it to find myself
stripped of my damp clothing, lying between dry blankets, with a bottle
of hot water at my feet and another on my chest, while kind-hearted
people were rubbing my limbs to restore circulation. It was some time,
however, before anything like the proper amount of heat came back to my
chilled frame. Then some warm drink was given me, and I fell into a
deep slumber.

I believe that I slept nearly twenty-four hours on a stretch without
once waking. At last, when I opened my eyes, daylight was streaming
down on me through the open hatchway. The doctor came and felt my
pulse. He spoke a little English, and told me to keep up my spirits,
and that I should do very well. Then some broth was brought me by one
of the emigrants, and after I had taken it I felt very much better. I
inquired after my companions.

"They are not all in as good case as you are," said the doctor. "Two
poor fellows have died, and a third, I fear, will not be long with us."

"Which of them have gone?" I asked. "I trust the officer, La Motte, is
doing well."

"He is weak, and suffers much, but still I have hopes that he may
recover," was the answer.

I was very sad on hearing this, yet I felt what cause I had to be
thankful that I had escaped with my life, and was not likely to suffer
in my health, as was the case with some of my companions.

With returning strength, however, came more forcibly on me the
consciousness of the postponement once more of all my hopes of
happiness. I had risked everything; I had gone through the most trying
hardships to reach home, and now I found myself being carried away far
from that home, without any immediate prospect of reaching it. I turned
round in my berth and burst into tears.

The kind-hearted German who was attending on me inquired, in his broken
English, what was the matter. I felt that it would be a relief to me,
and would gratify him, if I were to tell him my history. He was much
interested in it, and warmly sympathised with me. He did not consider
my tears unmanly. I do not think they were, either. I was weak and
ill, too. Perhaps otherwise, as is the English custom, I should have
kept my feelings and my history to myself. Yet I think that English
habit of hiding our thoughts and feelings, shows a want of confidence in
the sympathy and kind feeling