sum, and out of this presents were bought which we raffled for. The Captain invited the people from the second class, and stood us all champagne. The presents were drawn for, and I got a nail-brush and a musical instrument you play with your mouth—in reality I think it was a dentist’s instrument, for all the ‘‘ music” I ever got out of it gave every one toothache—a horrid thing to have in hot weather. We all tried to be jovial and “merry,’’ which latter is an old-fashioned thing long gone out of date; the present generation knows it not. The whole function fell terribly, awfully flat, and the more cheerful we essayed to be the flatter it became. All the deck passengers came and gazed through the window at the strange religious festival, as they took it to be, and were quite subdued by our solemn faces.
We then migrated to the deck and our chairs, and a Bohle was brought up; we had more drinks, sang the “Watch on the Rhine” and various Volkslieder, and in the end all relapsed into a most sulky silence and got away from each other. I am afraid in every one’s mind were thoughts of the Christmas times in other climes, and we drank to “absent friends” in a dismal silence. I could picture them all in that cháteau in France—all round the fire with the dogs spread out on the rug—and knew how the Princess would speak of me and wonder where I was and recall old times; and they would be off to Mass probably, and be glad when the Christmas time was over. They would have their tree for the children from the village, and the old nuns would ask for “Monsieur I’ Ecossais” and throw up hands and eyes in amazement to learn he had gone amongst cannibal savages in a land they had never heard of. In Germany, in Italy, in many lands they would speak of me and wonder where I was, but they none of them
