green baize. And 'twas a real play, played by real players,--at least
they were once real players, but that was long before. It may be their
antiquated and failing art rendered them harmless. And, then, those
beguiling words "Lecture Room" have such a soothing sound! They seemed
in those days to hallow the whole function, which was, of course, the
wily wish of the great moral entertainer; and his great moral
entertainment was even as "the cups that cheer but not inebriate." It
came near it in our case, however. It was our first matinee at the
theatre, and, oh, the joy we took of it! Years afterward did we children
in our playroom, clad in "the trailing garments of the night" in lieu of
togas, sink our identity for the moment and out-rant Damon and his
Pythias. Thrice happy days so long ago in California!

There is no change like a sea change, no matter who suffers it; and
one's first sea voyage is a revelation. The mystery of it is usually not
unmixed with misery. Five and forty years ago it was a very serious
undertaking to uproot one's self, say good-bye to all that was nearest
and dearest, and go down beyond the horizon in an ill-smelling,
overcrowded, side-wheeled tub. Not a soul on the dock that day but fully
realized this. The dock and the deck ran rivers of tears, it seemed to
me; and when, after the lingering agony of farewells had reached the
climax, and the shore-lines were cast off, and the Star of the West
swung out into the stream, with great side-wheels fitfully revolving, a
shriek rent the air and froze my young blood. Some mother parting from a
son who was on board our vessel, no longer able to restrain her emotion,
was borne away, frantically raving in the delirium of grief. I have
never forgotten that agonizing scene, or the despairing wail that was
enough to pierce the hardest heart. I imagined my heart was about to
break; and when we put out to sea in a damp and dreary drizzle, and the
shore-line dissolved away, while on board there was overcrowding, and