Down we groped our way to the cabin; all was darkness there, and every one on board was asleep. The vessel was so full that the steward and his wife were lying on the floor (in a heavy slumber), and directly in my way. I spoke: no one answered. I caught the stewardess by the nose, and could not conceive what it was that I had in my hand. She screamed, and gave her husband a smart blow on the head, thinking that he was the assailant. “Pordonnez,” said I, trying to speak civilly in French, and supposing they could not understand English. “Who the deuce is there?” roared out the steward. “Oh, English,” said I to myself. I explained, and slipped a five-franc piece into the man’s hand, and apologized at the same time to his wife for having pulled her nose instead of the bell-handle. “The captain is asleep,” said he, “but I shall awake him.” “Good fellow,” said I. My interpreter and I followed him, and the captain, who had heard the bustle, opened his cabin door. I repeated the purport of my unseasonable visit, telling him, by way of a clincher, that the Irish Penny Journal, to which I contributed by far the best articles (“and which,” said I, “you of course take for the gratification of your passengers”), could not flourish during my absence from home. “Come on board, both of you,” said he, “if you like, but don’t bother me with any more talk at this unseasonable hour of the night.” “An Irishman!” thought I to myself. He banged the door, and I suppose was instantly asleep again. I was soon in the same condition, and did not awake until we had made considerable progress with the very next tide towards London. [1] Mr Doyle probably means the coupée.--EDITOR. ORIGIN AND MEANINGS OF IRISH FAMILY NAMES. BY JOHN O’DONOVAN. Sixth Article.