the prolonged luxury of a suit in Chancery.

Everything must have an end; so, the mail agent arriving with his postal
cargo, on goes the steam, and off goes the "Africa," Captain Harrison.

"Some wave the hand, and some begin to cry,
Some take a weed, and nodding, say good-bye."

I am now fairly off for New York, with a brother and two friends; we
have each pinned our card to the red table-cover in the saloon, to
indicate our permanent positions at the festive board during the voyage.
Unless there is some peculiarity in arrangement or circumstance, all
voyages resemble each other so much, that I may well spare you the
dullness of repetition. Stewards will occasionally upset a soup-plate,
and it will sometimes fall inside the waistcoat of a "swell," who
travelling for the first time, thinks it requisite to "get himself up"
as if going to the Opera. People under the influence of some internal
and irresistible agency, will occasionally spring from the table with an
energy that is but too soon painfully exhausted, upsetting a few side
dishes as their feet catch the corner of the cloth. Others will rise,
and try to look dignified and composed, the hypocrisy whereof is
unpleasantly revealed ere they reach the door of the saloon; others eat
and drink with an ever-increasing vigour, which proves irresistibly the
truth of the saying, "_L'appétit vient en mangeant_." Heads that walked
erect, puffing cigars like human chimneys in the Mersey, hang listless
and 'baccoless in the Channel (Mem., "Pride goes before a fall").
Ladies, whose rosy cheeks and bright eyes, dimmed with the parting tear,
had, as they waved the last adieu, told of buoyant health and spirits,
gather mysteriously to the sides of the vessel, ready for any emergency,
or lie helpless in their berths, resigning themselves to the ubiquitous