and
Lavinia softly murmured--

'Lord, what fools we mortals be,
That we ever go to sea!'

'Breakfast, ladies?' cried the pretty French stewardess, prancing in
with tea-cups, bowls of gruel, and piles of toast balanced in some
miraculous manner all over her arms.

'Oh, take it away! I shall never eat again,' moaned Matilda, clinging
frantically to the marble, as the water-pitcher went down the middle
with a hair-brush, and all the boots and shoes had a grand promenade
round the room.

'Don't speak to me; don't look at me; don't even _think_ of me for three
days at least. Go and enjoy yourself, and leave us to our doom;' with
which tragical remark Lavinia drew her curtains, and was seen no more.

Great heavens, what a week that was! Rain, wind, fog; creak, pitch,
toss; noise, smells, cold. Broken sleep by day, woe in every variety by
night; food and drink a delusion and a snare; society an affliction;
life a burden; death a far-off blessing not to be had at any price.
Slowly, slowly the victims emerge from the lower depths of gloom, feebly
smile, faintly joke, pick fearfully but wistfully at once-rejected
dishes; talk about getting up, but don't do it; read a little, look at
their sallow countenances in hand-glasses, and speculate upon the good
effects of travel upon the constitution. Then they suddenly become
daring, gay, and social; rise, adorn themselves, pervade the cabins,
sniff the odours of engine and kitchen without qualms, play games, go to
table; and, just as the voyage is over, begin to enjoy it.

Alas for poor Lavinia! no such resurrection was possible for her. Long
after Mat had bravely donned the scarlet hose, cocked up her beaver and
gone forth to festive scenes, her shipmate remained below in chrysalis
state, fed by faithful Marie, visited by the ever-cheerful Amanda, and
enlivened by notes and messages from fellow-sufferers in far-off cells.

Mr. and Mrs. Harry Walmars, jun., called, and had private theatricals in
the passage. Dried-ginger parties were held about the invalid's berth,
poems were composed, and conundrums circulated. A little newspaper was
concocted, replete with wit and spirit, by these secluded ladies, and
called the 'Sherald,' to distinguish it from the 'Herald,' got up by
sundry gentlemen whose shining hours were devoted to flirtation, cards,
and wine.

'Perfect gentlemen, I assure you, my dear; for, drunk or sober, they
wear yellow kids from morning till night, s