our smashing against each other, and the yells of the porters, and
the wails over lost baggage, and the crash of boxes, and the roar
of the boilers, we are for the time being about as unhappy a lot of
maniacs as was ever thrown together.

I am one of them. I am rushing around with a glaring eye in search
of a box.

Great jam, in which I find a sweet young lady, with golden hair,
clinging to me fondly, and saying, "Dear George, farewell!"--
Discovers her mistake, and disappears.

I should like to be George some more.

Confusion so great that I seek refuge in a stateroom which contains
a single lady of forty-five summers, who says, "Base man! leave
me!" I leave her.

By and by we cool down, and become somewhat regulated.

NEXT DAY

When the gong sounds for breakfast we are fairly out on the sea,
which runs roughly, and the Ariel rocks wildly. Many of the
passengers are sick, and a young naval officer establishes a
reputation as a wit by carrying to one of the invalids a plate of
raw salt pork, swimming in cheap molasses. I am not sick; so I
roll round the deck in the most cheerful sea-dog manner.

. . . .