I had, for my part, another preservative against ennui, which no one on board appeared to envy me. I mean a little girl of about seven years of age, a creature of inexhaustible life and merriment, consequently a most incorrigible romp, whose feet, hands, and tongue, were never still, who, as I endeavoured to smoke quietly, reclining on my carpet, rolled over me, plucked my beard and my moustaches, kissed me, worried me, and tormented me, until I almost grew as fond of her as though she had been my own. 

When for a moment I desired to produce a cessation of her pranks, I would draw into my mouth and lungs a huge volume of smoke until my puffed cheeks resembled those of the god Eolus in an old tapestry, and then, blowing it forth in one clear steady current, I would direct it right in her face, which not only sent her to a respectful distance, hut exciting apprehension of a similar salute suggested the propriety of greater gentleness and forbearance.