FELLOW PASSENGERS.

11

present circumstances by the ringing of a very loud and inharmonious bell, and a voice demanding whether I was "up to dinner." The bell gave notice that in half-an-hour this meal would be served, and the voice was that of a friend, who, having crossed the Atlantic several times, was stoically proof against all sensations of a sentimental nature.

As we were going through smooth water, we mustered strongly at this first meal, numbering about one hundred ladies and gentlemen; and certainly, to judge by the behaviour of the guests, it might have been assumed we were bound on a party of pleasure. It must be admitted, the bill of fare presented many inducements to join the dinner party. Animated by the spirit of rivalry existing between the Collins and Cunard line of steamers, which extends to the commissariat department, the provisions on board the America were of an excellence and supplied with a prodigality truly amazing. And it is due to the chef de cuisine to state that the cooking was admirable. The attendance was also excellent, twenty-six stewards officiating under the direction of the chief steward, who had the captain's table under his more immediate superintendence; and as I had a seat at this desirable board, I can vouch for the fact that the best dishes were not far from our commander.

Our réunion gave us an opportunity of seeing

Among the passengers one of the latter a pretty

something of each other. were actors and actresses, woman; a Roman Catholic bishop fresh from Italy, with a brood of newly-fledged priests; an American ex-Minister from Turkey, with his wife and niece; and a mixture of merchants, agriculturists, Californian adventurers, with huge beards and strange stories; ladies, and emigrants.

When I returned to the deck, I found we had passed the bar, and were running up Channel, to make what is called the "north about" passage; that is, going round the north of Ireland. It was a lovely evening; and although the Irish Channel was not in the calmest mood, yet the great size of our ship prevented any unpleasant motion. So all went well with me, and I sat up until a late hour watching the Irish coast.

The following morning we were abreast of the Giant's Causeway. The sea continued propitious to landsmen with weak stomachs, so we mustered well at breakfast, at which meal the cook again astonished me by the variety of dishes. At half-past ten a bell summoned us to divine service. This was reverently performed by the surgeon, who, with as many officers and sailors as were off duty, attended in their uniforms.

As the afternoon waned into evening, a streak of blue appeared far to the west, at which I gazed long and earnestly; for it was the Atlantic. My desire to remain on deck until our keel ploughed this vast ocean was great; but, alas! my infirmity was greater; and, before we reached it, I was under the necessity of descending to my state-room with no clear idea as to when I should be able to leave it.

It is Matthews, I believe, who expresses his astonishment that poets have made no use of sea-sickness in their descriptions of the place of torment, for it might have furnished excellent hints for improving the punishments of their hells. What if Dante had derived infernal inspiration from the agonising throes of sea-sickness should we have a more terrible Inferno? Shakspeare, with his usual sagacity, must have had it in mind when he makes Gonzalo, the honest old councillor of Naples, exclaim in his agony, probably of body as well as soul," Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground,-long heath, brown furze, any thing!”

Being personally what is called a bad sailor, I looked forward with great apprehension to the voyage across the Atlantic, expecting to be continually unwell; but—and I am desirous of recording the fact for the comfort of apprehensive landsmen-I suffered

far less on my two voyages across the Atlantic than it has been my lot to endure during many passages from Folkestone to Boulogne, when it has appeared to me that nature and art combined in the most cruel and inharmonious manner to inflict as much misery as possible during the happily brief period occupied by the passage.

The fact is, the motion on board a large ocean steamer of 2000 tons is totally different from that villanous stomach and brain dislocatory movement felt in the cock-boats in our uneasy Channel, being a majestic kind of heave and roll, as stupendous as the mighty Atlantic waves, highly enjoyable when sickness is over.

Not being vexed by foul or violent winds, the passengers soon began to turn up, and in the course of a day or two we had settled down into the usual occupations and amusements incidental to a sea life.

When the evenings were long, and the weather in that amiable mood described by a poetical midshipman in the log-book as

"Light airs, languishing into calms,"

many hours were spent on deck, where, under the leadership of the actors, glees and songs, with powerful choruses, in which all joined, were kept up with

AL-FRESCO CONCERTS.

15

great spirit until a late hour: on these occasions the worthy Bishop of Boston was a tower of strength. Personally of Lablache-like proportions, he was gifted with a magnificent voice, and sang many of Dibdin's songs in a manner that called forth vociferous applause; nor, when the song was over, did his Roman Catholic reverence deem it inconsistent with his ecclesiastical dignity to sit among us smoking his " Havannah" and imbibing toddy.

Those were pleasant nights, when the winds were at rest, and the moonlight bridged the heaving waves with silver bars, our ship speeding on, flinging from her bows tongues of phosphoric fire, which flickered far in her foamy wake. But as every night was not favourable for these al-fresco concerts, they were diversified by Shakspearian readings, admirably given by one of the actors, and occasionally by more subdued singing, in which our lady friends took part. Supper consisting generally of anchovy toast, poached eggs, and broiled bones- followed these entertainments, after which we descended to our narrow resting-places, deeming ourselves fortunate if we had light to undress, as the steward invariably extinguished the lamps at midnight.

So passed our fair-weather days; but, as may be