anwhile, the children grow sleepy, and divers interesting little
duets and trios arise from one part or another of the cabin.

"Hush, Johnny! be a good boy," says a pale, nursing mamma, to a great,
bristling, white-headed phenomenon, who is kicking very much at large in
her lap.

"I won't be a good boy, neither," responds Johnny, with interesting
explicitness; "I want to go to bed, and so-o-o-o!" and Johnny makes up a
mouth as big as a teacup, and roars with good courage, and his mamma
asks him "if he ever saw pa do so," and tells him that "he is mamma's
dear, good little boy, and must not make a noise," with various
observations of the kind, which are so strikingly efficacious in such
cases. Meanwhile, the domestic concert in other quarters proceeds with
vigor. "Mamma, I'm tired!" bawls a child. "Where's the baby's night
gown?" calls a nurse. "Do take Peter up in your lap, and keep him
still." "Pray get out some biscuits to stop their mouths." Meanwhile,
sundry babies strike in "con spirito," as the music books have it, and
execute various flourishes; the disconsolate mothers sigh, and look as
if all was over with them; and the young ladies appear extremely
disgusted, and wonder "what business women have to be travelling round
with babies."

To these troubles succeeds the turning-out scene, when the whole caravan
is ejected into the gentlemen's cabin, that the beds may be made. The
red curtains are put down, and in solemn silence all, the last
mysterious preparations begin. At length it is announced that all is
ready. Forthwith the whole company rush back, and find the walls
embellished by a series of little shelves, about a foot wide, each
furnished with a mattress and bedding, and hooked to the ceiling by a
very suspiciously slender cord. Direful are the ruminations and
exclamations of inexperienced travellers, particularly young ones, as
they eye these very equivocal accommodations. "What, sleep up there! _I_
won't sleep on one of those top shelves, _I_ know. The cords will
certainly break." The chambermaid here takes up the conversation, and
solemnly assures them that such an accident is not to be thought of at
all; that it is a natural impossibility--a thing that could not happen
without an actual miracle; and since it becomes increasingly evident
that thirty ladies cannot all sleep on the lowest shelf, there is some
effort made to exercise faith in this doctrine; nevertheless, all look
on their neighbors with