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ening the life out of a weak, nervous woman like myself."

"How nervous you are, Mrs. Doolan!" retorted Mr. Malone, drawing a short pipe from his pocket; "conscience makes cowards of us all."


Speak for yourself, Mr. Malone."

"A little for myself, and twice as much for you, Mrs. Doolan."

"For me, sir! I scorn your base insinuation."


Ay, now you're behind your own counter, ma'am."

"What do you know about my counter? I defy you; it never was cut up by the Lord Mayor, like

your own."


"You're mistaken, Mrs. Doolan-you're thinking your father's counter and short measure." "No, sir, I'm thinking of your sandy sugar and light weights."

"A penny for your thoughts, then, though it's more than they are worth, ma'am," continued Malone; "no, ma'am, I'm aboveboard in all my dealings; fair play was always my motto-live and let live. Come, shake hands, Mrs. Doolan. I have a very great regard for your husband-decent man. I recollect the time when no loyal man in Dublin would wear a stocking to his foot unless he bought it at Doolan's. Fact, sir, that man might have commanded thousands before he took the benefit of the act."

Peace having been declared between these neighbourly folks, Mr. Malone, impatient at being cooped up so long, lamented the folly of the company, who had given up the old leg-of-mutton boats for those fly-away cockle-shells.

"In the old leg-of-mutton boats you progressed steadily, sir," said he; "if you felt inclined to walk, you could stretch yourself along the towing-path, for a mile or two, without any inconvenience; you might sit on deck and enjoy the prospects; you might write your letters, eat your leg-of-mutton dinner, make your tumbler of whiskey punch, in peace and quietness; but now a hasty bottle of ale, and, mayhap, a scrumption of bread and cheese, is all you have to comfort you; and, positively, I would as soon sit in the pipe of a bellows-such a draught of air, since they have got the fashion of taking the doors off the hinges, by way of giving more room to the passengers; and, observe, sir, we have the full benefit of a stream of flies from the stagnant pools, and dust kicked up by the horses from the towing-path; but this is more of your reforming plans-everything must be done in a hurry now-a-days. Marry in haste, and repent at leisure,'-good proverb that, Miss Pryke, (Miss P. was an old maid)—but I never talk politics before the ladies."

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I was not sorry to hear the bell proclaiming our arrival in the good city of Dublin, nodded at my familiar Goliath and his friends, and once more returned to the comforts of Gresham's Hotel."


The storm-Reckless passengers—A council in the trough of the sea-Ship in distress reported-Said to be the PresidentBerths inundated-Disputes-A row— -Letter to the captainCoast of Maine-Halifax-The blue-nose Pilot-His conduct —Runs our ship on a rock.

THE storm still rages with unmitigated fury; every sail has been blown out of the bolt ropes. The sailors, engineers, and stokers look wild, weatherworn, and exhausted. The captain looking anxious and care-worn, the mates dejected; the promenadedeck deserted, and frequently washed with seas; forward, the sailors complain that their berths are frequently inundated. It is an awful-a sublime sight, to look from aft the binnacle, as the vessel rolls on her side till her spars and the tall chimney almost touch the water, and the paddle-box is plunged into the waves, with a report like the roaring of cannon; then slowly regaining her equilibrium, our royal vessel mounts a broad billow, till the streaming figure-head of our sweet sovereign turns to heaven; then plunging down, as if to port for ever into the “hell of waters" beneath our trembling feet. Our situation grows critical-every hour we lose some floats from off our paddle-wheels. Indeed, the starboard wheel is already stripped of her floats, and the iron-rings and

bare arms of the wheel whirl round perfectly useless. By an unpardonable oversight, we have not a single spare float on board, even if the sea was smooth enough to permit us to rig up the wheel again. This is a sad affair; and now the floats on the starboard side begin to drop off, and we lose steerage way. This fearful intelligence has divers effects on the passengers: some maintain a good countenance, others sink at once into the deepest despondency; the women are too ill to move, and the men crawl about the saloon, whispering their fears. Bacchus, Silenus, and Jonathan Wild, and another of that precious clique, still cling together, drinking, singing, and uttering the most awful oaths and blasphemies. The hapless wife of that mad reveller Jonathan Wild, sits near him, holding an infant in her arms; the poor heartbroken young woman begs her husband to return from the table, to give her the boy he holds on his knee, and down whose infant throat he forces wine or brandy every time he fills his own glass. He answers his wife with an oath, consigns her to perdition, snatches the infant from her bosom, tells her to get to her berth, and be d-d, amidst the cheers of his boon companions. She listens to all his abuse, but will not leave her children. He threatens to strike her, and his companions restrain him; at length the rage of the rest of the passengers breaks forth, and the unnatural father throws his children to his wife, and returns with his boon companions to his old haunt, the bar, a dismal hole in the hold, under the saloon, from which Bacchus, Silenus, and Jonathan Wild are dragged almost nightly, by the waiter, in a state of beastly intoxication.


On Sunday the storm still continued to rage. Some spoke of prayer, and a Bible was opened, but no man could read aloud. The captain held a brief conference with us stated the quantity of coal, the crippled state of the wheels, the damaged state of the sails; he asked us if we did not think it advisable to run for the Azores, and try to reach Fayal. Several of the passengers said it was the only chance we had, but a gentleman from the Far West declared it would be madness to run before the wind through such a sea, with such an unmanageable vessel. "We talk of running to the Azores,” said he, pointing to the wall of waters on either side-" why, gentlemen," said he, "we are actually in the trough of the sea, at the mercy of the waves!" His words made a deep impression on all. This day we lost steerage-way for five hours at a spell. "A sail-a sail!" was the cry towards sunset. We ran on deck, and descried the dim outline of a ship to leeward. "Perhaps it is the President," said one. "The President is twice as large," said another; and in the twinkling of an eye a broad billow hid her from our sight.

Monday morning dawns auspiciously-there is a lull in the storm, a breathing pause; the engines are stopped, and all hands set to work, rigging up the paddle-wheels; one-third of the floats still sticking on the larboard wheel, are transferred to the starboard, and with some loose planks made fast, malgré the rolling and pitching of the vessel. Providentially, before the storm came on with fresh vigour, the last bolt was screwed home, and I never joined more heartily in a wild cheer than the moment the words go a-head" set our gallant vessel in motion. And


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