Thinkin' is out of the
question, and as for readin', you might as well read your fortune in
the stars.
"Just as you begin, that lovely-lookin', rosy-cheeked, wicked-eyed
gall, that came on board so full of health and spirits, but now looks
like a faded striped ribbon, white, yeller, pink, and brown--dappled
all over her face, but her nose, which has a red spot on it--lifts up
a pair of lack-lustre peepers that look glazed like the round dull
ground-glass lights let into the deck, suddenly wakes up squeamish,
and says, 'Please, Sir, help me down; I feel so ill.' Well, you take
her up in your arms, and for the first time in your life hold her head
from you, for fear she will reward you in a way that ain't no matter,
and she feels as soft as dough, and it seems as if your fingers left
dents in her putty-like arms, and you carry her to the head of the
stairs, and call out for the stewardess, and a waiter answers,
'Stewardess is tight, Sir.'
"'I am glad of it, she is just the person I want. I wish all the other
passengers were tight also.'
"'Lord, Sir, that ain't it--she is mops and brooms.'
"'Mops and brooms, I suppose she is, she must have plenty use for
them, I reckon, to keep all snug and tidy down there.'
"'Good gracious, Sir, don't you understand, she is half seas over.'
"'True, so we all are, the captain said so to-day at twelve o'clock, I
wish we were over altogether.
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