ight of land; or," and here a bright thought seized me,
"if you really feel very ill, call for that man there, with the fur
collar on his coat; he can give you the only thing I ever knew of any
efficacy; he's the steward, ma'am, Stewart Moore; but you must be on your
guard too as you are a stranger, for he's a conceited fellow, and has
saved a trifle, and sets up for a half gentleman; so don't be surprised
at his manner; though, after all, you may find him very different; some
people, I've heard, think him extremely civil."

"And he has a cure, ye say?"

"The only one I ever heard of; it is a little cordial of which you take,
I don't know how much, every ten or fifteen minutes."

"And the naygur doesn't let the saycret out, bad manners to him?"

"No, ma'am; he has refused every offer on the subject.'

"May I be so bowld as to ax his name again?"

"Stewart Moore, ma'am. Moore is the name, but people always call him
Stewart Moore; just say that in a loud clear voice, and you'll soon have
him."

With the most profuse protestations of gratitude and promises of pork "a
discretion," if I ever sojourned at Ballinasloe, my fair friend proceeded
to follow my advice, and descended to the cabin.

Some hours after, I also betook myself to my rest, from which, however,
towards midnight I was awoke by the heavy working and pitching of the
little vessel, as she laboured in a rough sea. As I looked forth from my
narrow crib, a more woe-begone picture can scarcely be imagined than that
before me. Here and there through the gloomy cabin lay the victims of
the fell malady, in every stage of suffering, and in every attitude of
misery. Their cries and lamentings mingled with the creaking of the
bulk-heads and the jarring twang of the dirty lamp, whose irregular swing
told plainly how oscillatory was our present motion. I turned from the
unpleasant sight, and was about again to address myself to slumber with
what success I might, when I started at the sound of a voice in the very
berth next to me--whose tones, once heard, there was no forgetting. The
words ran as nearly as I can recollect thus:--

"Oh, then, bad luck to ye for pigs, that ever brought me into the like of
this. Oh, Lord, there it is again." And here a slight interruption to
eloquence took place, during which I was enabled to reflect upon the
author of the complaint, who, I need not say, was Mrs. Mulrooney.

"I think a little tay would settle my stomach, if I