Shawl-Straps. Louisa May Alcott

into the cars as they stopped at different places; more gifts, more hand-shakes and kisses, more good wishes and kind prophecies, till at last in a chaos of smiles, tears, smelling-bottles, luncheon, cloaks, books, and foot-warmers, the travellers left the last friendly face behind and steamed away to New York.

      'How de-licious this is!' cried the untravelled Matilda, as they stepped upon the deck of the 'Lafayette,' and she sniffed the shippy fragrance that caused Lavinia to gasp and answer darkly,—

      'Wait till to-morrow.'

      While Mat surveyed the steamer under the care of Devoted Being No. 10, who appeared to see them off, Lavinia arranged the stateroom, stowing away 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. A little newspaper was concocted, replete with wit and spirit, by these secluded ladies, and called the 'Sherald,' to distinguish it from the 'Herald,' got up by sundry gentlemen whose shining hours were devoted to flirtation, cards, and wine.

      'Perfect gentlemen, I assure you, my dear; for, drunk or sober, they wear yellow kids from morning till night, smoke the best cigars, and dance divinely,' as Mrs. Twaddle said, sitting erect in the saloon, shrouded in fur and velvet, with five diamond-rings well displayed, as she recounted the diseases she had enjoyed, and did the honours of a remarkable work-basket, containing eight different sorts of scissors.

      'We shall be in to-morrow, so you'd better be digging up the treasures you have buried, you old magpie,' said Mat, appearing to the pensive Livy on the eleventh day.

      'The sun is out; come on deck, and help us get up the last edition of our paper. How will this do? Query—If steamers are named the "Asia," the "Russia," and the "Scotia," why not call one the "Nausea?"' added Amanda, popping her head into the den. Lavinia threw a pillow at her, but the undaunted joker continued—

      'Also this: Financial—This being a feminine paper, gold is no longer at Pa, but at Ma.'

      'Good! Add this: Argument in favour of the Superiority of Women—The sluggard was not told to go to his uncle.'

      'Thank you,' and Amanda departed to twine with her forty-third bosom friend, while Lavinia disinterred, from holes and corners of her berth, money, nuts, and raisins; books, biscuits, and literary efforts much the worse for deluges of soap and daubs of butter.

      The cry of 'Land!' on the morrow caused passengers unseen before to appear like worms after a shower; all heroically did up their back hair, put on their best suits, and walked forth with the delusive hope that no one would know how ill they had been.

      A French Marquis, with a sickly little son, whose diet of fried potatoes and sour wine accounted for his having the temper of a young fiend, appeared, and were made much of by dear, title-loving Americans.

      A Spanish opera-singer, stout, saffron-coloured, and imperious, likewise emerged from obscurity, with a meek little husband, who waited on her like a servant, and a big bald parrot, who swore like a trooper.

      Several nuns languished in corners of the saloon, surveying the vanities of life with interest, and telling their beads devoutly when they saw anyone looking at them.

      A mysterious lady in green velvet with many diamonds, and a shabby, speechless companion, sailed about the ship, regardless of the rumours told of her—deserted husbands, stolen jewellery, lovers waiting on the other side, and many equally pleasant little tales.

      The gentlemen with orange gloves and copper-coloured noses got themselves up in the most superb style, though few were going to land at Brest, and took tender farewells of such ladies as did, each professing desolation and despair at the termination of a twelve