the crew and passengers of a Channel steamboat.

I am also disposed to think that the intense
mental strain produced by the determination not
to be sick, and the eager and continual watching
of the steamer's movements, are productive of a
slight degree of delirium. For how otherwise
can it be accounted for, that throughout the
voyage the machinery which worked the paddles
appeared to my over-strained faculties to utter
in a regular and unvarying measure, as it rose
and fell, words of mysterious import, and in no
way connected with the matter in hand—
"Spoke-shave—Bullock Smithy—Spoke-shave
—Bullock Smithy—Spoke-shave—Bullock
Smithy"—it repeated distinctly in my ears till
we got half way across the Channel, when it
changed its note and said "Parents pauvres,"
uninterruptedly for the rest of the voyage.

Now I hold that it would be base and
ungenerous in the last degree on the reader's part
if (when I have admitted frankly so much) he
were to probe me with questions as to whether
when I got on shore I did not feel in a condition
of mind and body so wretched that it would
have been better on the whole to have been sick
and be done with it. Nor would it be kind to
ask whether I did not feel light-headed and a
prey to nausea—who that was who complained
of headache all the evening, or with whom it
was that the bed at the Hôtel des Bains,
Boulogne, appeared to rise and fall, and to
revolve throughout the night. Let not the
reader, I say, ask these questions, nor let him
inquire who that person was who had no appetite
for breakfast the next morning, and whose
system was disorganised for many days to come.
Such questions indicate nothing better than
impertinent curiosity, and are noway connected
with that great discovery, of which I am so
justly proud.

Having revealed this important secret to the
world, and done what in me lies to benefit in
this respect my suffering fellow-creatures, let
me now say two words concerning the travelling
companions with whom I was fortunate enough
to make the journey to Boulogne.

CHAPTER THE THIRD.

Why need I mention that there was upon the
deck of the steamer a talkative and boastful
gentleman? Of course there was. Where is
that steamer to be found, or where that train
which does not contain a gentleman who holds
forth largely upon the subject of his own career
and exploits. It seems as unnecessary to
mention the fact that such a person was on board, as
to say that there was a carping gentleman who
objected to everything, and a knowing gentleman
who was up to everything. This last
person was a professed traveller, a tremendous
fellow, with elaborate costumes adapted to the
voyage, and a travelling bag strapped round his
body.

The talkative gentleman was, in the present
case, possessed of a short and corpulent
presence, and of a deep and oily voice. He was,
of course, seated next the admiring gentleman,
who listened to his stories and believed in him
implicitly. The talkative gentleman had
encamped with his back against the boiler, very
near to the position I had taken up, and when
my attention was first drawn to him he was
favouring the company in his vicinity (though
apparently addressing the admiring gentleman
only) with a long account of an experience he
had had, when located in Canada, of the horrors
of a snow-storm. The talkative gentleman
delivered himself with theatrical tones, and in
conventional stereotyped phrases.

"It was in the winter of '42," the talkative
gentleman began, "that, being at that time in
Canada, my wife and myself were the hero and
heroine of the following remarkable adventure:

"The governor of L——, an exceedingly
gentlemanly and agreeable man, had invited us
to dinner on a certain day—a Sunday, by-the-by
—and, as the weather was fine, we had made
our way to his house on foot.

"As we walked along, I pointed out to my
wife, as rather a remarkable thing, a sign-post
with 'Ginger-beer sold here,' inscribed upon it,
which had a curious effect, standing as it did by
the side of the road, with no house or habitation
of any kind at all near it. I remarked, I say
then, at the time, what a singular thing this
was, and that the only elucidation I could give
of so extraordinary a circumstance was, that there
had been some small store or log-house, where
ginger-beer was retailed, erected near, which
had been pulled down, while the sign-board
which made allusion to it had been suffered to
remain standing.

"I little thought, sir, what my feelings could
be, and those of my dear partner, when next we
should behold the inscription whose words I
have just quoted."

A sympathetic "Ah!" ending in rather a
suspicious hiccup, from the admiring gentleman,
formed a pleasant little break in the narration
at this point.

Meanwhile the machinery went on with its
dull and monotonous accompaniment "Spoke-
shave—Bullock Smithy—Spoke-shave—Bullock
Smithy—Spoke-shave—Bullock Smithy."

"Well, sir," continued the talkative gentleman,
"after a very agreeable and most hospitable
entertainment, ending in music adapted to
the day, my wife and I set off at about half-past
ten to walk home; but what was our
astonishment to find the ground covered with the
snow, which was falling in every direction to
which the eye could turn, as fast as it could fall.
For one moment we hesitated whether we would
not return to the governor's house, and endeavour
to ascertain whether it would be
possible to find some means of conveyance; but my
wife persuaded me that we should only be
putting our excellent host to inconvenience, and
that as the distance was short, and we were well
wrapped up, it would be much better to set off
and walk."

Here the admiring gentleman, who had been
troubled with a nasty cough at intervals, got up