catch them going to sea again, that's what you won't;" and then the
bulletins from all the state rooms--"Mrs. A. is sick, and Miss B.
sicker, and Miss C. almost dead, and Mrs. E., F., and G. declare that
they shall give up." This threat of "giving up" is a standing resort of
ladies in distressed circumstances; it is always very impressively
pronounced, as if the result of earnest purpose; but how it is to be
carried out practically, how ladies _do_ give up, and what general
impression is made on creation when they do, has never yet appeared.
Certainly the sea seems to care very little about the threat, for he
goes on lurching all hands about just as freely afterwards as before.

There are always some three or four in a hundred who escape all these
evils. They are not sick, and they seem to be having a good time
generally, and always meet you with "What a charming run we are having!
Isn't it delightful?" and so on. If you have a turn for being
disinterested, you can console your miseries by a view of their
joyousness. Three or four of our ladies were of this happy order, and it
was really refreshing to see them.

For my part, I was less fortunate. I could not and would not give up and
become one of the ghosts below, and so I managed, by keeping on deck and
trying to act as if nothing was the matter, to lead a very uncertain and
precarious existence, though with a most awful undertone of emotion,
which seemed to make quite another thing of creation.

I wonder that people who wanted to break the souls of heroes and martyrs
never thought of sending them to sea and keeping them a little seasick.
The dungeons of Olmutz, the leads of Venice, in short, all the naughty,
wicked places that tyrants ever invented for bringing down the spirits
of heroes, are nothing to the berth of a ship. Get Lafayette, Kossuth,