nd dependence; she sang like a nightingale, and talked like a nun.
There never was such simplicity. There was n't a sounding-line on board
that would have gone to the bottom of her soulful eyes. But she managed
the captain and all the officers, and controlled the ship as if she had
been the helm. All the passengers were waiting on her, fetching this
and that for her comfort, inquiring of her health, talking about her
genuineness, and exhibiting as much anxiety to get her ashore in safety,
as if she had been about to knight them all and give them a castle
apiece when they came to land.

THE MISTRESS. What harm? It shows what I have always said, that the
service of a noble woman is the most ennobling influence for men.

MANDEVILLE. If she is noble, and not a mere manager. I watched this
woman to see if she would ever do anything for any one else. She never
did.

THE FIRE-TENDER. Did you ever see her again? I presume Mandeville has
introduced her here for some purpose.

MANDEVILLE. No purpose. But we did see her on the Rhine; she was the
most disgusted traveler, and seemed to be in very ill humor with her
maid. I judged that her happiness depended upon establishing controlling
relations with all about her. On this Rhine boat, to be sure, there was
reason for disgust. And that reminds me of a remark that was made.

THE YOUNG LADY. Oh!

MANDEVILLE. When we got aboard at Mayence we were conscious of a
dreadful odor somewhere; as it was a foggy morning, we could see no
cause of it, but concluded it was from something on the wharf. The
fog lifted, and we got under way, but the odor traveled with us, and
increased. We went to every part of the vessel to avoid it, but in vain.
It occasionally reached us in great waves of disagreeableness. We had
heard of the odors of the towns on the Rhine, but we had no idea that
the entire stream was infected. It was intolerable.

The day was lovely, and the passengers stood about on deck holding their
noses and admiring the scenery. You might see a row of them leaning over
the side, gazing up at some old ruin or ivied crag, entranced with the
romance of the situation, and all holding their noses with thumb and
finger. The sweet Rhine! By and by somebody discovered that the odor
came from a pile of cheese on the forward deck, covered with a canvas;
it seemed that the Rhinelanders are so fond of it that they take it
with them when they travel. If there should ever be war between us
and G