Some birds have a great deal of humour in them, particularly the raven. One that belonged to me was the most mischievous and amusing creature I ever met with. He would get into the flower-garden, go to the beds where the gardener had sowed a great variety of seeds, with sticks put in the ground with labels, and then he would amuse himself with pulling up every stick, and laying them in heaps of ten or twelve on the path. This used to irritate the old gardener very much, who would drive him away. The raven knew that he ought not to do it, or he would not have done it. He would soon return to his mischief, and when the gardener again chased him (the old man could not walk very fast), the raven would keep just clear of the rake or hoc in his hand, dancing back before him, and singing as plain as a man could, "Tol de rol de rol; tol de rol de rol!" with all kinds of mimicking gestures. The bird is alive now, and continues the same meritorious practice whenever he can find an opportunity. CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. June, Steam-boat Princess Victoria. It certainly appears that the motion of a steam-vessel produces more nausea than that of a sailing-vessel; and people appear to suffer in some degree in proportion to the power of the engines. This may be accounted for by the vibration of the vessel increasing in the same ratio. We are now in a vessel of two hundred and fifty horse power, and the consequence is that the passengers are as sick as two hundred and fifty horses. The effect of the vibration of the after part of the vessel amounts to the ridiculous. When dinner was put on the table, we had no occasion for a bell to announce it, for every glass on the table was dancing to its own jingling music. And when the covers were taken off, it was still more absurd--everything in the dishes appeared to be infected with Saint Vitus's dance. The boiled leg of mutton shook its collops of fat at a couple of fowls which figured in a sarabande round and round their own dish,--roast beef shifted about with a slow and stately movement--a ham _glisseed croisee_ from one side to the other--tongues wagged that were never meant to wag again--bottles reeled and fell over like drunken men, and your piece of bread constantly ran away and was to be pulled back into its proper place. It was a regular jig-a-jig--a country-dance of pousette, down the middle, and right and left. The communication of motion was strange; the whole company seated on long forms were jig-a-jigging up and down together--your knife jigged and your fork jigged--even the morsel which was put into your mouth gave one more jump before it could be seized. However, we jigged it to some purpose; for, in eighteen hours and a half, we passed from London to Antwerp.