and the sun does not wait the pleasure of your neighbor's chimney or wall, or ask permission of some hill or mountain before it can appear or disappear. What contrasted sunrises and sunsets one has among the mountains and on the ocean! At Zermatt, Switzerland, the sun rose and set in majesty some hours from the time marked in the almanac, and the short day in that peerless valley made its dreary mark on pinched vegetation and the swollen throats of the poor Cretins. In midocean, on the contrary, again and again it rose out of the sea without a cloud to dim its disc, and set just as distinctly at the appointed minute after a day, which at every hour was marked with its own lights and shades upon the waters, whilst there are no goitres on Jack's throat, and his well-sunned neck is lithe and strong as his arm. What a study, too, are the clouds under that open horizon, and how they answer to the changing ripple and swell of the never-quiet waves! Animal life is never long out of sight above or below, and birds and fishes will keep company with you many an otherwise weary hour. What a guerrilla troop these birds seem to be, as they prowl about the vessel, or dash into the water not without a sharp eye to business; and what excitement there is in that huge host of porpoises, who seem to be having a jolly time of it! miles and miles of them playing at leap-frog, and seeming to be jumping over each other's shoulder like merry boys at school, apparently as undisturbed by the presence of the great whale, who is blowing up fountains of water in the distance, as the boys are by the distant vision of the receding pedagogue after the close of school. Strange lights, too, play at night in the air and the sea, and little creatures in the water seem to be doing their best down there to get up a milkyway or an aurora borealis on their own hook. Then, the darkness itself, when it comes, is a great power, and a more living mystery than on land; for, at sea, the darkness and the ocean seem to be one thing, and the night is not a cir

cumstance, but a character, the reserve and inwardness of great Nature herself, and not a veil on her head or a hue on her face. I know too little of the sea to be able to enlighten others upon the subject, but wiser heads will allow a novice to express his delight and gratitude in having found so much pleasure and profit upon waters that he had looked upon before with dread. They may laugh at me for dreading the winter-passage home in December, and at the furs I bought in Paris to guard against the cold; whereas the Atlantic was then milder than on the voyage out in May, and my furs were of little use, and the open deck was generally a pleasart place with no more than the usual winter clothing. Probably the icebergs were then tied to the apron-string of their Arctic mothers, and not allowed, as afterwards in Spring and Summer, to run about so naughtily to freeze the fingers and toes of sailors, and try to wreck their ships.

We must not stop without saying a word of the human world in which we are shut up at sea-the officers, sailors, servants, and passengers of the ship. Our census stood thus, on the voyage out: passengers, 250; crew and servants, 185; total, 435-a goodly number, surely, and quite enough to make a respectable village in a new country. What a variety of characters, as well as number of heads! and it was not a little of a study to observe the affinities and antipathics of the company. Most of the passengers were Americans, and our first feeling was, that we did not like the captain, and wished him some moderate sort of ill-not any harm to health or limb, but such tribulation as the shortening of his rations, or cutting off his wine and ale, until he mended his manners. What right had he to be so much more stout and red-faced than most of us? Why did he not speak to us, or bow to us? Why did he walk about as if he were Queen Victoria's admiral, and we were his cabin-boys ? I confess to sharing a little in the feeling against him, until I discovered that he was always on the look-out for the

good of the ship, and every dark and foggy night, when we were on our pillows, he was on deck, watching over us as if we were his children. I forgave him the gruff manners for his good seamanship, and rejoiced in a good captain more than in a bland gentleman. In time, too, his manners seemed to mollify, and, when we shook hands with him at parting, we felt that we should like to take the voyage with him and his good ship always, and that he had sweet juices under that rough bark.

Sailors are always a noticeable setwith their jaunty rig and their ability to live at sea or on land, tread the rolling deck firmly in the storm, or hang in the air on swinging ropes like apes. Such a puzzle they are, too, in their character; so superstitious and so reckless, so self-denying and so self-indulgent, such believers and such radicals, such stoics in danger at sea and such epicureans among pleasures on shore. These sailors seemed to be of the regular breed of old salts, and not the sweepings of the streets and groggeries. They were well-clad, fed, and disciplined; and, when they appeared at divine service on Sunday, in their best clothes, it did a man's heart good to see how old England trains her roughest sons to love their mother-land and Church, and teach them her prayers and hymns. I was amused, sometimes, at some of their feats of strength and skill, which made them merry and kept their muscles in good trim during the leisure spells of the week.

It is important to note the presence and power of the new scientific elements in the work of navigation. The old seaman, of course, knew the use of the compass and sextant, and our improved instruments and charts concentrate a deal of knowledge and skill in the binnacle. But the engine-room is now the stronghold of science, and it is there that the modern spirit bears sway. I often looked into that room and talked with the master-spirit there. He was a Scotchman; and this master of the steam-forces was as much of a contrast in looks as in purpose to the cap

tain of the ship and crew; the chiefengineer being a thoughtful, somewhat thin, very companionable and American-looking man, whilst the captain was a bluff, ruddy, nonchalant, portly John Bull, with lines on his face and body more marked with the curves of generous living than with the sharp lines of reflection and anxiety. Do we think enough of the large amount of educated skill now in the service of voyaging and travelling, and appreciate, as we ought to do, the influence of the new exact sciences and arts upon culture and morality? One of the most sensible men that I know, who has a chief place among railway directors, assures me that railroad men, as such, are a superior class, and that all grades of them, whether conductors or engineers, form habits of caution and punc tuality which give them a high rank as to character and influence. Travellers cannot be too mindful of all such faithful service; and, after so many weeks upon the seas without a single disaster, I cannot but acknowledge the modest and ever-watchful science that presides over the engine-room, and keeps the mighty powers there so thoroughly in hand for the protection of life and the swift and safe passage from land to land.

Our passengers got along very well, and we had room and variety sufficient to see enough, and not too much, of each other. It is said that people who are shut up together at sea form bitter antipathies, and sometimes look upon each other with mortal hatred. It may be so where the voyage is long or the quarters close, but not where the voyage is limited and there is free space to sit or walk or lounge at will and liberty, to think or chat or read or sleep, as you have a mind to. One likes much to find agreeable people at sea, who will greet you kindly and interchange friendly words now and then, so that, in the course of the day, the passing hours are never wholly dull; and, when you are weary of yourself and the sea, you can have a fair allowance of genial humanity to feast on, as well as the soup and

fish and beef and mutton and chicken on the table. One delights, too, in a little fun occasionally, and a good merry-maker is a great treasure at sea. People are ready to laugh at small game, indeed, there; and, in the absence of the world's great stage, where tragedy and comedy are always going on, we are willing to take the best of it that we can get, especially the comedy. Conscious of this craving for amusement, a thoughtful man may well ask himself why our habits of mind are so dull and plodding, and that we have so generally made over to paid agents this ancient and important business of making fun. The time was when we were all full of merry music; and every healthy child is as good as a play, and laughs and prattles and sings and screams out the ceaseless comedy of life as a natural and unpaid actor. Mr. Dombey is dull and prosaic, and if he laughs, he pays a clown for putting him up to it; but Dombey's baby laughs because the fun is in him, and the great God, who made the universe, filled that little heart with glee. It was instructive to see the great attention given to the only man on board who was willing to amuse us together in the lump. He was not the graceful actor of genteel comedy who went with us to Europe for rest after a long and weary season; nor was he the noted humorist who was on his way to set the people of England into a gale; nor the eloquent lecturer on Cromwell and his Times, who was carrying home pockets full of gold; but he was simply a member of a troupe of minstrels, who was to rejoin his company in London. His instrument was not the harp or guitar, but the banjo, and right merrily did he sing and play, until it seemed as if a whole plantation of negroes were on our deck, and at last an antic youngster-quite a trim youth he was, too-took to his heels and made the music into dance. Although in a somewhat pensive mood, with thoughts on home and friends, and on life, not all a holiday of late, I could not but bless the man, the banjo, and the dancer. What music there was in that young

fellow's legs! and the whole scene kept company with his joy. The men and women hushed their chat, and listened and looked; the porpoises rolled over and over like mad; the paddle-wheels turned more cheerily, and the bright stars and the great moon held out their lamps over the scene so benignly, that we needed no chandelier nor foot-lights. Most probably the mermaids-if any there were as they heard the music and saw the movement, thought our ship a great water-bug, a huge sea-cricket, whose chirp was that banjo and whose feet were those ever-turning wheels.

Do we, in our modern life, give the legs their due? and is it not wholly unfair to look upon the dance merely as the soft indulgence of voluptuous hours, as our sterner moralists seem so often to do? I have nothing to say against a reasonable style and extent of dancing of men and women together; and their fitly-rhymed feet may act out the melody and harmony that make the music of the home, and teach the great truth that life becomes poetry when manly strength and feminine beauty keep proper step, and move on lovingly in the path of obedience and joy. But the dance did not begin in this way, nor have its great triumph thus. It was once the act of heroism, and even of religion. The Pyrrhic dance of the Greeks was, at first, I think, a wardance, and intended to train all the limbs in manly strength, and drill the hands and feet for all the motions of battle. Exactly what a religious dance was, it is hard to say; the doleful movements of the Shakers give us a poor idea of what David did when he "danced before the Lord;" and he who could play his religion out on his harp in psalms, was moved to dance it out in that inspired lyric of the legs. That young man's dance at sea set me to thinking about the possibilities of setting the human body thoroughly to music, and making all the limbs and muscles move in due tune and time, now, perhaps, to the beat of drums and cymbals, now to the swell of trumpets

and horns, and now to the notes of flutes and soft recorders. The dancing that mates men with women in entrancing round, is likely to take care of itself, and needs no protection except to moderate excess; but the dance of noble manhood may call for some sober thought, and make a new feature in the education of the coming man. Old Rome gives hints of what the new Rome should be. I have just read, in Mommsen, that Roman poetry sprang up in the lyrical form, and grew out of those primitive festal rejoicings in which dance and music and song were inseparably blended; and in the most ancient religious usages, dancing, and, next to dancing, instrumental music, were far more prominent than song; the chief place in the grand procession of victory, next to the images of the gods and the champions, being assigned to the dancers, both the grave and merry.

The grave dancers, I only add, were of three classes, and the merry dancers were of two classes, all being men, youths, or boys.

These may be odd ideas for New York in this time of wanton dances in public and private. It is possible, however, that another century may see a different state of things; and it is to be hoped that, if the Pyrrhic dance, or something as manly, comes back, it will be from a new race of manly Greeks, and not from savage barbarians, who come up in retribution or reaction against the godless and effeminate lust of our present manners. Better hope and strive for the good time coming, when, at sea and on land, people shall learn to be happy and to make others happy, by beautiful arts and true and gentle living-such as shall do away with heartsickness, even if scasickness may linger awhile longer.

was?"

"You've been as silent and grim as a burglar every time I've met you, for a fortnight. There's something, old fellow. What is it?"

He reflected a moment, and then, in his quick way, sprang up and locked the door of the private office.

"I'll tell you, Charley, for you've known me, and Susy too, long enough--"

He jumped up again, and broke out, "That old Onthank!"

Horror!-his wife's mother! I wasn't fond of the old lady, that's the fact, but I had wickedly made her think-or rather allowed her to suppose (for I assure you that I've never flirted with her in the least)-that she is a great favorite of mine. You can get those reforming old ladies to believe any thing at all. But, of course, I was shocked on principle to hear Tom Willis call his own mother-in-law "Old Onthank," and with adjuncts implying

final condemnation, too. And, putting on a reproving face, I said,

"Onthankful man!-when she has given you her only child!"

"And herself into the bargain. But don't joke about it, Charley. It's making me ill. I can't tell any other human being but you. I couldn't tell you, if you weren't the oldest friend I have in the world."

It must be a real enough misery that could extort from this reticent man any admission of trouble about himself, and about his shy, sweet, delicate, snowwhite, golden-haired little wife-for it was something that concerned her, too! And that old lady is such a Well,

I was grave enough in an instant.

"Charley," he resumed, sitting down again, and looking intently at me, with a white face and angry, miserable eyes, "I'm rather too reserved, I suppose; but, of all things in this world, or any other, whether I show it or not, I love most and think holiest my home and my wife."

I felt my own face grow pale, too; my heart really stopped beating for a

moment.

"Ah," he went on, "it isn't the very worst, yet. I suppose I may have brooded over it, until, perhaps, I overestimate it. Susy is as pure as an angel in heaven. The worst about her is, that she's making a mistake. Onthank is the Satan of the business."

I was entirely puzzled.

"The point is just this: my notions about feminine delicacy are fastidious, perhaps; but, if they are, it's because I reverence women so much. Susy is bent on appearing in tragedy. I'd just about as soon see her- 19

He stopped short. I could not at ouce, as they say, "realize" the situation. He might as well have told me, without notice, that the little snowwhite fairy thing was bent on becoming a four-ton male elephant, or coming out as a clown at the circus, with her nose painted a strong red. I stared at him in silence, relieved from any actual terror, but with a frightful sense of absurdity swelling inside of me instead. Far down there was a laugh, but I kept it thoroughly out of sight. Tom was too unhappy.

character was just, as far as it went. I added, mentally-what, perhaps, he would have assented to, but what use in annoying him with it?-that she had inherited some slight something of what, in her old mother, was a fussy, shallow, restless love of attention and applause. And, last and worst, she had ro children. And so I said, not really meaning to speak out, either,

"I wish Susy had about three babies!"

And thereupon I looked at Tom, who blushed and turned white, and then the tears came into his eyes. I had not remembered, either, how (like more men than you might imagine) he had a passionate love for children, so irresistible and keen that, like the love of David and Jonathan, it passed the love of women. It was too late to apologize, however; and, besides, I had told the truth. So I changed the subject.

"Have you thought of doing any thing about it?"

"Plenty of things. But I don't believe I would forbid her to cut my throat, if she thought it was right. I can't argue her out of it; she don't argue at all. Onthank argues. I can't send off the old lady, for she hasn't a

"Who could, I should like to know?" be burst out, with the same mingled wrath and distress. "I'm like a wild bull in a net. Susy loves me, and loves her mother, too. She's as spiritual as an archangel, and perhaps that very thing has kept her from appreciating the earthliness of the business she proposes. She is as conscientious as a martyr; and the worst of all is, she is so absolutely clean, so pure, through and through, that she can't see dirt. She has got the notion that women don't have a fair chance. She has been persuaded that she has dramatic abilities, and that it's her duty to exploit them in behalf of her sex. As for the dirt part-the practical undesirableness of her appearing-she really cannot see them."

either. I wish there was a heaven-inlaw for mothers-in-law to be translated to at their daughters' marriages!"

"Tom, let me go and talk it over with the ladies, will you? You're right in the middle of the trouble, and you can't see it. Let me go into it, and then come out and consider. It will be hard if you and I together can't think of something."

"Just what I want. You haven't been up at the house this long time; they've both been asking about you. Onthank likes you, that's an advantage. She distrusts me, and very properly; though I treat her in the correctest manner."

"I'll go this very afternoon."

So I went, leaving poor Tom in that half-mitigated state which even a preliminary consultation with the doctor