"Mamma, we can't sleep in such a place," cried Jemima. Minnie wondered to herself in what corner the pea-green jacket and plumed hat could be stowed, and for the first time felt glad that her own dress was so simple and plain. While the Lowes went for their bandboxes and provision bag, Minnie whispered to her mother, "So they are to be our companions in this funny little place! I would rather have had some people not quite so dashing and grand." Mrs. Mayne smiled to herself at the ignorance of her child, whose eye had been caught by mere outside glitter. "She will know better in time," thought the lady, "and learn to distinguish between tinsel and real gold." The Lowes returned to their little recess, which, small as it was, they made smaller, by stuffing it full of their luggage, without the least regard to the comfort of their unfortunate fellow travelers. The night had now come on, and a lamp was lighted near the end of the cabin, which threw but a dull gleam into the part portioned off for the four. The steamer had entered the open sea, and to other discomforts was added that of a heaving motion, which, with the close air, gave to Minnie a tightness and pain in the head. "Mamma," said she, sadly, to Mrs. Mayne, who was sitting beside her on a sofa near the recess, but in a more open part of the cabin; "mamma, I am afraid that we shall find this a miserable voyage after all." "It is something like the voyage of life, my darling, in which we must all expect to find some things to annoy and try; but let us make little of trifling discomforts, and cheerfully look to the end. We know that we are going home—the voyage will soon be over." "Yes, mamma; and the less we like the way, the more glad shall we be to get home. It makes one think of the verse about our heavenly rest:" "'There fairer bowers than Eden's bloom, Nor sin nor sorrow see; Blest land, o'er rude and stormy waves, I onward press to thee.'" "And now, Minnie," said her mother, "the sooner you can forget your discomforts in sleep, the better. I will just read a small portion of the Bible to you as usual, and then you shall climb up into your berth, and, I hope, slumber quietly till the morning." "Mamma, you can't read the Bible here," whispered Minnie, "where there are so many strangers;" and she glanced timidly at the tall, portly figure of Mrs. Lowe, who was standing very near her. "Why should we not read it, my child? It makes no difference in the importance of a duty whether we perform it quietly in our own room, or with many around us. You know that you are not able to read to yourself, and must therefore hear your mother."