private life; but as soon as they were arranged for the
dance, they conducted themselves like so many mutes at a funeral. I have
never seen decorum pushed so far; and as this was not expected, the
quadrille was soon whistled down, and the dancers departed under a
cloud. Eight Frenchmen, even eight Englishmen from another rank of
society, would have dared to make some fun for themselves and the
spectators; but the working man, when sober, takes an extreme and even
melancholy view of personal deportment. A fifth-form schoolboy is not
more careful of dignity. He dares not be comical; his fun must escape
from him unprepared, and, above all, it must be unaccompanied by any
physical demonstration. I like his society under most circumstances, but
let me never again join with him in public gambols.

But the impulse to sing was strong, and triumphed over modesty and even
the inclemencies of sea and sky. On this rough Saturday night, we got
together by the main deck-house, in a place sheltered from the wind and
rain. Some clinging to a ladder which led to the hurricane deck, and the
rest knitting arms or taking hands, we made a ring to support the women
in the violent lurching of the ship; and when we were thus disposed,
sang to our hearts' content. Some of the songs were appropriate to the
scene; others strikingly the reverse. Bastard doggrel of the music-hall,
such as, "Around her splendid form, I weaved the magic circle," sounded
bald, bleak, and pitifully silly. "We don't want to fight, but, by
Jingo, if we do," was in some measure saved by the vigour and unanimity
with which the chorus was thrown forth into the night. I observed a
Platt-Deutsch mason, entirely innocent of English, adding heartily to
the general effect. And perhaps the German mason is but a fair example
of the sincerity with which the song was rendered; for nearly all with
whom I conversed upon the subject were bitterly opposed to war, and
attributed their own misfortunes, and frequently their own taste for
whisky, to the campaigns in Zululand and Afghanistan.

Every now and again, however, some song that touched the pathos of our
situation was given forth; and you could hear by the voices that took up
the burden how the sentiment came home to each. "The Anchor's Weighed,"
was true for us. We were indeed "Rocked on the Bosom of the Stormy
Deep." How many of us could say with the singer, "I'm Lonely To-night,
Love, Without You," or, "Go, Someone, and Tell the