that they feel quite wide awake,--that they don't think they
shall go to sleep again to-night,--and discourse over every thing in
creation, until you heartily wish you were enough related to them to
give them a scolding.

At last, however, voice after voice drops off; you fall into a most
refreshing slumber; it seems to you that you sleep about a quarter of an
hour, when the chambermaid pulls you by the sleeve. "Will you please to
get up, ma'am? We want to make the beds." You start and stare. Sure
enough, the night is gone. So much for sleeping on board canal boats.

Let us not enumerate the manifold perplexities of the morning toilet in
a place where every lady realizes most forcibly the condition of the old
woman who lived under a broom: "All she wanted was elbow room." Let us
not tell how one glass is made to answer for thirty fair faces, one ewer
and vase for thirty lavations; and--tell it not in Gath!--one towel for
a company! Let us not intimate how ladies' shoes have, in a night,
clandestinely slid into the gentlemen's cabin, and gentlemen's boots
elbowed, or, rather, _toed_ their way among ladies' gear, nor recite the
exclamations after runaway property that are heard. "I can't find
nothin' of Johnny's shoe!" "Here's a shoe in the water pitcher--is this
it?" "My side combs are gone!" exclaims a nymph with dishevelled curls.
"Massy! do look at my bonnet!" exclaims an old lady, elevating an
article crushed into as many angles as there are pieces in a minced pie.
"I never did sleep _so much together_ in my life," echoes a poor little
French lady, whom despair has driven into talking English.

But our shortening paper warns us not to prolong our catalogue of
distresses beyond reasonable bounds, and therefore we will close with
advising all our friends, who intend to try this way of travelling for
_pleasure_, to take a good stock both of patience and clean towels with
them, for we think that they will find abundant need for both.

FEELING.

There is one way of studying human nature, which surveys mankind only as
a set of instruments for the accomplishment of personal plans. There is
another, which regards them simply as a gallery of pictures, to be
admired or laughed at as the caricature or the _beau ideal_
predominates. A third way regards them as human beings, having hearts
that can suffer and enjoy, that can be improved or be ruined; as those
who are linked to us by mysterious reciprocal influences, b