"I wish," said Irving, who was stretched out his full length on one of the coops abaft, with the front of his cap drawn over his eyes—"I wish this cursed voyage was at an end. Every day the same thing; no variety—no amusement;—curry for breakfast—brandy pawnee as a finish. I really begin to detest the sight of a cigar or a pack of cards."
"Very true," replied Ansell, who was stretched upon an adjacent coop in all the listlessness of idleness personified—"very true, Irving; I begin to think it worse than being quartered in a country town inhabited by nobodies, where one has nothing to do but to loll and spit over the bridge all day, till the bugle sounds for dinner."
"Oh! that was infinitely better; at least, you could walk away when you were tired, or exchange a word or two with a girl as she passed over it, on her way to market."
"Why don't you take a book, Irving?" observed the major, laying down the one with which he had been occupied, to join the conservation.
"A book, major? Oh, I've read until I am tired."
"What have you read since you embarked ?" inquired his senior.
"Let me see—Ansell, what have I read?"
"Read!—nothing at all—you know that."
"Well, perhaps so; we have no mess-newspapers here: the fact is, major, I am not very partial to reading—I am not in the habit of it. When on shore I have too much to do; but I mean to read by-and-bye."
"And pray, when may that by-and-bye be supposed to arrive?"