Page:Romance & Reality 2.pdf/258

256 what would seem to be least subservient to man's authority,—the elements. Yet a steam-boat is the last place in the world for these reflections: the ridiculous is the reality of the sublime, and its deck is a farce without spectators. Lady Mandeville always lay down the moment she got on board ship; but Emily, who did not suffer at all, sat in the open travelling carriage, and indulged whatever of sentiment she or Lord Mandeville might feel at parting with the white cliffs of Albion. Their attention was, however, too much taken up with their fellow-passengers: a whiskered, cloaked, and cigared youth, with every thing military about him but the air:—a female in a dark silk, and plaid cloak, her face eloquent of bandboxes and business—an English milliner going over for patterns, which, with a little additional trimming, would be the glory of her future show-room. But their chief attention was attracted by a family group. The father, a little fat man, with that air of small importance which says, "I'm well to do in the world—I've made my money myself—I don't care if I do spend some—it's a poor heart what never rejoices." The