In a day or two, I was able to stagger about the vessel in a very successful manner, considering my means of perambulating, and on the first Sunday out—three days from New York—the weather being fine, I wended my way forward to give a drink of wine to a sick steerage-passenger, and it was on that occasion that I witnessed a very amusing scene which I shall endeavor to describe.
My sick friend was lying on the hurricane deck, shaded by an awning, and very near him were four unchristian-like passengers engaged in the absorbing game of “seven-up.” About that time, a Methodist minister came over from the cabin to conduct a “divine service” or two, and enlighten the benighted steerage-passengers as to the great probability of their losing their immortal souls.
He took his position a little way from our “seven-up” party, gave out a text from memory, and proceeded to preach the gospel—during which the game went on—my attention being divided between it and the sermon.
“My Christian friends,” began the minister, “I would have you know, in the beginning, that ——”
[“You’re bound to trump or follow suit, if you have it,” interrupted one of the card-players.]
“—— There are two ——”
[“Trumps! by jingo!”]
“—— Spheres of existence for all mankind. First ——”
[“Whose deal is it?”]
“—— We are placed on earth to ——”