n' all!' Andy Callaghan's big bony hands are clasped in a tremor
of emotion that would do honour to a picturesque Italian exile. 'The
beautiful ould counthry, as has the greenest grass that ever grew, an'
the clearest water that ever ran, an' the purtiest girls in the wide
world! An' we're goin' among sthrangers, to pull an' dhrag for our bit
to ate; but we'll never be happy till we see them blue hills and green
fields once more!'

Mr. Wynn could almost have endorsed the sentiment just then. Perhaps
Andy's low spirits were intensified by the uncomfortable motion of
the ship, which was beginning to strike landsmen with that rolling
headache, the sure precursor of a worse visitation. Suffice it to say,
that the mass of groaning misery in the steerage and cabins, on the
subsequent night, would melt the heart of any but the most hardened 'old
salt.' Did not Robert and Arthur regret their emigration bitterly, when
shaken by the fangs of the fell demon, sea-sickness? Did not a chance of
going to the bottom seem a trivial calamity? Answer, ye who have ever
been in like pitiful case. We draw a curtain over the abject miseries of
three days; over the Dutch-built captain's unseasonable joking and
huge laughter--he, that could eat junk and biscuit if the ship was in
Maelstrom! Robert could have thrown his boots at him with pleasure,
while the short, broad figure stood in the doorway during his diurnal
visit, chewing tobacco, and talking of all the times he had crossed
'the ferry,' as he familiarly designated the Atlantic Ocean. The sick
passengers, to a man, bore him an animosity, owing to his ostentatiously
rude health and iron nerves, which is, of all exhibitions, the most
oppressive to a prostrate victim of the sea-fiend.

The third evening, an altercation became audible on the companion-ladder,
as if some ship's officer were keeping back somebody else who was
determined to come below.

'That's Andy Callaghan's voice,' said Arthur.

'Let me down, will ye, to see the young masthers?' came muffled through
the doors and partition. 'Look here, now,'--in a coaxing tone,--'I don't
like to be cross; but though I'm so bad afther the sickness, I'd set ye
back in your little hole there at the fut of the stairs as aisy as I'd
put a snail in its shell.'

At this juncture Robert opened their state-room door, and prevented
further collision. Andy's lean figure had become gaunter than ever.

'They thought to keep me from seeing ye, the