I was not a little amused at the extravagant expectations entertained by some of our steerage passengers.  The sight of the Canadian shores had changed them into persons of great consequence.  The poorest and the worst-dressed, the least-deserving and the most repulsive in mind and morals, exhibited most disgusting traits of self-importance.  Vanity and presumption seemed to possess them altogether.  They talked loudly of the rank and wealth of their connexions at home, and lamented the great sacrifices they had made in order to join brothers and cousins who had foolishly settled in this beggarly wooden country.

Girls, who were scarcely able to wash a floor decently, talked of service with contempt, unless tempted to change their resolution by the offer of twelve dollars a month.  To endeavour to undeceive them was a useless and ungracious task.  After having tried it with several without success, I left it to time and bitter experience to restore them to their sober senses.  In spite of the remonstrances of the captain, and the dread of the cholera, they all rushed on shore to inspect the land of Goshen, and to endeavour to realise their absurd anticipations.

We were favoured, a few minutes after our arrival, with another visit from the health-officers; but in this instance both the gentlemen were Canadians.  Grave, melancholy-looking men, who talked much and ominously of the prevailing disorder, and the impossibility of strangers escaping from its fearful ravages.  This was not very consoling, and served to depress the cheerful tone of mind which, after all, is one of the best antidotes against this awful scourge.  The cabin seemed to lighten, and the air to circulate more freely, after the departure of these professional ravens.  The captain, as if by instinct, took an additional glass of grog, to shake off the sepulchral gloom their presence had inspired.

The visit of the doctors was followed by that of two of the officials of the Customs—­vulgar, illiterate men, who, seating themselves at the cabin table, with a familiar nod to the captain, and a blank stare at us, commenced the following dialogue:—­

Custom-house officer (after making inquiries as to the general cargo of the vessel):  “Any good brandy on board, captain?”

Captain (gruffly):  “Yes.”

Officer:  “Best remedy for the cholera known.  The only one the doctors can depend upon.”

Captain (taking the hint):  “Gentlemen, I’ll send you up a dozen bottles this afternoon.”

Officer:  “Oh, thank you.  We are sure to get it genuine from you.  Any Edinburgh ale in your freight?”

Captain (with a slight shrug):  “A few hundreds in cases.  I’ll send you a dozen with the brandy.”

Both:  “Capital!”

First officer:  “Any short, large-bowled, Scotch pipes, with metallic lids?”

Captain (quite impatiently):  “Yes, yes; I’ll send you some to smoke, with the brandy.  What else?”