ss him as I leave the saloon. Having
sketched Irish scenery and Irish character in my youth, I am not tempted
to open my forbidden sketch-book; but somehow or other I find myself
making a rapid sketch of the Doctor as he rises from his seat at the end
of the table to wish the "top of the mornin'" to a lady who sits on his
right. My excuse is to send it to his friend, my doctor in London. Then,
without thinking, I sketch in a few other passengers, and instinctively
make a note of the surroundings. I confess I am already guilty of
breaking my pledge! And, therefore, make my escape on deck.

The huge steamer seems to act as a sort of magnet on the small fry of
the harbour, for they rush out to her from the land in all their sorts
and sizes, in a desperate race for supremacy. Prominent among this fleet
is a long, ungainly rowing-boat propelled by a tough Hibernian, and
seated in the stern are his women folk, surrounded by baskets, who, in
strong Milesian vernacular, urge the rower on in his endeavours to reach
the ship first. Looked down upon them from your floating tower, they
strongly resemble a swarm of centipedes. Harder and harder pull the
"bhoys," and louder and louder comes the haranguing of the females as
they approach us. I have my eye on the lady in the stern of the first
boat. She is fair, fat, and forty, possessed of really massive
proportions, most powerful lungs, and a true Irish physiognomy--a cast
of countenance in which it always strikes me that Nature had originally
forgotten the nasal organ, and then returning to complete the work had
taken between finger and thumb a piece of flesh and pinched it, thus
forming the nose rather high up on the face, while the waste of material
below goes to make the upper lip.

[Illustration: THE SALOON OF THE _TEUTONIC_. THE FIRST MORNING AT
BREAKFAST.]

The puller of the stroke oar is probably her husband, two others are
wielded evidently by her two sons, and the bow is taken by her strapping
daughter. One of her arms encircles the merchandise she intends to
dispose of on board our vessel, while the other vigorously helps to
propel the oar held by her brawny husband. All the while she is urging
on her crew in her native language, with what may be commands,
exhortations, or even blessings, but sounding to the unaccustomed Saxon
ear very much like curses, which chase one another out of her capacious
mouth with a rapidity unequalled by even an irritated monkey at the Zoo.