.

.
Here, I recklect, I was obleeged to stopp.

A fealin, in the fust place singlar, in the next place painful, and at last compleatly overpowering, had come upon me while I was making the abuff speach, and now I found myself in a sityouation which Dellixy for Bids me to describe.

Suffis to say, that now I dixcovered what basins was made for--that for many, many hours, I lay in a hagony of exostion, dead to all intense and porpuses, the rain pattering in my face, the salers tramplink over my body--the panes of purgatory going on inside.

When we'd been about four hours in this sityouation (it seam'd to me four ears), the steward comes to that part of the deck where we servants were all huddled up together, and calls out "Charles!" "Well," says I, gurgling out a faint "yes, what's the matter ?" "You're wanted." "Where ?" "Your master's wery ill," says he, with a grin.
"Master be hanged!" says I, turning round, more misrable than ever.