Shawl-Straps | Page 3

all useless gear and laying forth dressing-gowns, slippers,
pocket-handkerchiefs, with an anguished smile. She had crossed the
ocean twice, and was a wiser, sadder woman for it. At eight she turned
in, and ten minutes later Amanda came aboard with a flock of gay
friends. But no temptations of the flesh could lure the wary spinster
from her den; for the night was rough and cold, and the steamer a Babel
of confusion.
'It's perfectly delightful! I wish you'd been there, Livy. We had supper,
and songs, and funny stories, and all sorts of larks. There are quantities
of nice people aboard, and we shall have a perfectly splendid trip. I
shall be up bright and early, put on my scarlet stockings, my new boots,

and pretty sea-suit, and go in for a jolly day,' said the ardent Matilda, as
she came skipping down at midnight and fell asleep full of rosy visions
of the joys of a
Life on the ocean wave.
'Deluded child!' sighed Lavinia, closing her dizzy eyes upon the
swaying garments on the wall, and feebly wishing she had hung herself
along with them.
In the gray dawn she was awakened by sounds of woe, and peering
forth beheld the festive Matilda with one red stocking on and one off,
her blonde locks wildly dishevelled, her face of a pale green, and her
hands clasping lemons, cologne, and salts, as she lay with her brow
upon the cool marble of the toilet-table.
'How do you like it, dear?' asked the unfeeling Lavinia.
'Oh, what is it? I feel as if I was dying. If somebody would only stop
the swing one minute. Is it sea-sickness? It's awful, but it will do me
good. Oh, yes! I hope so. I've tried everything, and feel worse and
worse. Hold me! save me! Oh, I wish I hadn't come!'
'Shipmates ahoy! how are you, my loves?' and Amanda appeared, rosy,
calm, and gay, with her pea-jacket on, skirts close reefed, hat well to
windward, and everything taut and ship-shape; for she was a fine sailor,
and never missed a meal.
Wails greeted her, and faint inquiries as to the state of things in the
upper world.
'Blowing a gale; rain, hail, and snow,--very dirty weather; and we are
flying off the coast in fine style,' was the cheerful reply.
'Have we split any sails?' asked Lavinia, not daring to open her eyes.
'Dozens, I dare say. Shipping seas every five minutes. All the
passengers ill but me, and every prospect of a north-easter all the way

over,' continued the lively Amanda, lurching briskly about the passage
with her hands in her pockets.
Matilda dropped her lemons and her bottles to wring her hands, and
Lavinia softly murmured--
'Lord, what fools we mortals be, That we ever go to sea!'
'Breakfast, ladies?' cried the pretty French stewardess, prancing in with
tea-cups, bowls of gruel, and piles of toast balanced in some
miraculous manner all over her arms.
'Oh, take it away! I shall never eat again,' moaned Matilda, clinging
frantically to the marble, as the water-pitcher went down the middle
with a hair-brush, and all the boots and shoes had a grand promenade
round the room.
'Don't speak to me; don't look at me; don't even think of me for three
days at least. Go and enjoy yourself, and leave us to our doom;' with
which tragical remark Lavinia drew her curtains, and was seen no
more.
Great heavens, what a week that was! Rain, wind, fog; creak, pitch, toss;
noise, smells, cold. Broken sleep by day, woe in every variety by night;
food and drink a delusion and a snare; society an affliction; life a
burden; death a far-off blessing not to be had at any price. Slowly,
slowly the victims emerge from the lower depths of gloom, feebly
smile, faintly joke, pick fearfully but wistfully at once-rejected dishes;
talk about getting up, but don't do it; read a little, look at their sallow
countenances in hand-glasses, and speculate upon the good effects of
travel upon the constitution. Then they suddenly become daring, gay,
and social; rise, adorn themselves, pervade the cabins, sniff the odours
of engine and kitchen without qualms, play games, go to table; and, just
as the voyage is over, begin to enjoy it.
Alas for poor Lavinia! no such resurrection was possible for her. Long
after Mat had bravely donned the scarlet hose, cocked up her beaver
and gone forth to festive scenes, her shipmate remained below in

chrysalis state, fed by faithful Marie, visited by the ever-cheerful
Amanda, and enlivened by notes and messages from fellow-sufferers in
far-off cells.
Mr. and Mrs. Harry Walmars, jun., called, and had private theatricals in
the passage. Dried-ginger parties were held about the invalid's berth,
poems were composed, and conundrums circulated.