CHARLES DICKENS 139 



feelings partake more of horror than of wild de- 

 light. 



Charles Darwin. 



The Channel Crossing <o o 



(From The Ufuommercial Traveller) 



'HP HE wind blows stiffly from the Nor'-East, the 

 sea runs high, we ship a deal of water, the 

 night is dark and cold, and the shapeless pas- 

 sengers lie about in melancholy bundles, as if they 

 were sorted out for the laundress ; but for my own 

 uncommercial part I cannot pretend that I am 

 much inconvenienced by any of these things. A 

 general howling, whistling, flopping, gurgling, and 

 scooping, I am aware of, and a general knocking 

 about of Nature ; but the impressions I receive are 

 very vague. In a sweet faint temper, something 

 like the smell of damaged oranges, I think I should 

 feel languidly benevolent if I had time. I have 

 not time, because I am under a curious compul- 

 sion to occupy myself with the Irish melodies. 

 " Rich and rare were the gems she wore," is the 

 particular melody to which I find myself devoted. 

 I sing it to myself in the most charming manner 

 and with the greatest expression. Now and then 

 I raise my head (1 am sitting on the hardest of wet 

 seats, in the most uncomfortable of wet attitudes, 

 but I don't mind it), and notice that I am a whirl- 



