of unconcern, or at most, the laconic reply "it blows fresh." From their quaint and technical terms it is difficult for any one, unaccustomed to sea, to know precisely what they mean to convey. Their degrees of comparison are peculiar to themselves, and at first not easy to be comprehended: taking the term fresh as the positive, they say it blows fresh----it blows strong---it blows hard: and again, to denote the severest possible gale, they assume hard as the positive--add an oath to form the comparative, and augment that oath to constitute the superlative: thus, it blows hard; it blows d-hard; it blows d hard by Previous to this extremity

we are commonly furnished with an omen, by the captain coming down below to change his long coat for a short round jacket, and from this we always prognosticate unfavourably, it being a precaution which denotes busy, and perhaps, perilous employment.

Our steward is a very old sailor, tough as the ropes of the ship, and callous to every alarm; and, being the person more immediately about us, it most frequently falls to his lot to be teazed with questions regarding the weather, the wind, and the sea; and the steady apathy of his feelings, together with his excessive sang froid and unconcern, have been often subjects of remark---sometimes, indeed, of vexation to us. During one of our perilous storms, the wind having shifted to a point somewhat less unfavourable, although still blowing a terrific gale, the usual question was asked---Well, steward! how is the weather? Squally, squally, gentleman---the wind's coming about---be fine weather soon." According to the feelings of this old weather-beaten tar, the severest tempests that we had suffered, had been only squalls, for, in the midst of the most tremendous gales, his reply had always been Squally, a little squally, gentlemen."--" Are we making any way, steward ?” "Oh yes, fine wind, quite free, going large, make six or seven knots." "But surely we have too much of this good wind, steward ?" "Oh no, fine wind as can blow, gentleman-but a little squally---rather squally.” The ship's company often reap much amusement from the little accidents---the ridiculous tumbles--and the strange pos

tures which the passengers are thrown into by the unsteady motion of the vessel: indeed we now feel so little alarm during a gale, that we sometimes disregard its perils, and join in their smiles and jokes at the ludicrous occurrences which happen among ourselves. Hogarth might have feasted upon them. In the confusion of motions, caused by the heavy seas, if we attempt to walk, we fetch way, and are tossed to the farthest side of the cabin, in all the odd and uncommon figures that can be imagined: and often before we can gain our legs, the ship yields to another wave, and we are tumbled in the most ludicrous manner to the opposite side, kicking, struggling, or crawling, amidst a confusion of moving chairs, stools, boxes, and other furniture.

• Our dinner ceremony is often rendered a humorous scene: at this hour the cabin being the general rendezvous of the party, we meet---crawl, trembling, towards the table--and tie ourselves in the chairs. A tray is set before us, with deep holes cut in it for the dishes, plates, and glasses; the table and chairs are lashed to the deck; yet one or other frequently gives way and upsets half the things in the cabin! Presently enters the steward with soup, followed by his little slave with potatoes; and the servants with such other covers as there may chance to be. But scarcely are the things upon the table, and the servants stationed, clinging to the backs of our chairs, before a sudden lurch of the ship tumbles all into disorder. Away go steward, servants, and little Mungo, to the lee-cor-ner of the cabin: the soup salutes the lap of one of us; another receives a leg of pork; a third is presented with a piece of mutton or beef; a couple of chickens or ducks fly to another; the pudding jumps nearly into the mouth of the next; and the potatoes are tossed in all directions, about the deck of the cabin. One saves his plate; another stops his knife and fork; some cling to the table, thinking only of saving their persons; one secures the bottle; another, half fallen, holds up his glass in one hand, and fixes himself fast to his chair with the other. Chaos is renewed! every thing is in motion --every thing is in disorder and confusion. At the next roll of the ship the servants, staring with amazement, again fetch

way, and with extended arms are tossed to the other side of the cabin, where they cling fast, and remain fixed as statues, afraid again to move: and, although we are lashed in the chairs ourselves, it is with difficulty we can maintain our seats. Plates, dishes, knives, forks, and glasses, clatter together in all the discord of the moment: the steward and his boy crawling upon their hands and knees after the dancing potatoes, the flying fowls, or walking joints, are rolled over and over at our feet; and all is disorder and confusion. The ship now becomes steady for a moment; the scattered parts of the dinner are collected; and those who have escaped sickness, again attempt to eat. Some, foreseeing all these accidents, fix themselves in a corner upon the cabin-deck, and take the plate between their knees, fancying them in security: but quickly they are tumbled, in ridiculous postures, to the other side of the cabin, sprawling, with outstretched limbs, like frightened crabs. Some having no calls of appetite join not in the feast, but lie swinging up and down in their cots or hammocks; others remain rolling from side to side in their births. Some cry out with sore bruises; some from being wetted with the sprays: one calls out for help; another relieves his stomach from sickness; while others, lamenting only their dinner, loudly bewail the soup, the meat, and the pudding. Some abuse the helmsman; others the ship; and others the sea; while all join in a chorus of imprecations upon the wind.

'It has been commonly observed, that sailors have many prejudices and superstitions. They often predict a gale, from circumstances which seem to bear no kind of connection in the chain of cause and effect. The prejudice against whistling on board ship appears to be universal; nor do I remember ever to have heard a sailor whistle in any ship; beyond the common whee-ew, whee-ew, when he wants a breeze; and passengers are even called upon to pay a forfeit should they, however inadvertently, be heard to whistle: but I forget that I am tiring you with uninteresting details, and that you may think my letter is growing as tedious as the voyage. зн

VOL. I.

"Carlisle bay, February 13

"REJOICE with me and give thanks! After all our perils and dangers we are again safe at anchor, with terra firma in view! How delightful an element--how cheering-how animating is the solid earth! Even its grosser part is now endeared to us, and we hail the heavy soil in cordial sympathy, almost rejoicing that our very bodies belong to dull clay! During nine long weeks had we been wandering, amidst a multitude of perils, upon the fickle waters, without once obtaining even the most distant view of land: but of this enough! Let me not recall to your mind scenes that we are endeavouring to forget. Throughout the last fortnight the horrors of boisterous old Ocean have been assauged, and for two or three days, after writing my last notes, we were nearly becalmed. The foaming Atlantic. becaine smooth and tranquil as the fishpond of a pleasure ground; and, while resting in the most genial temperature, we had only to lament the total absence of that wind, which had long been so frightfully abundant.---This placid interval was occupied in making preparations for fair sailing; and the captain flattered us with the hope of haying passed the stormy latitudes. The top-gallant masts were set--the royals and steering sails made ready-fishing lines were thrown into the still sea--and an awning prepared for the quarter-deck; all of which were indications of steady breezes, warm regions, and pleasant sailing. Sensible that you will feel your share of complacency upon the occasion, I must not neglect to note the event of a most joyous day--a day which will be held in gladness by our party, so long as returning years shall continue to place before us the 25th of January.——— We were in latitude 27 deg. 49 min., the thermometer at 69. deg. The morning was mild; the sea still and smooth, as a lake all nature seemed hushed in silence, and no wind could be felt. We rose early, and enjoyed a steady walk on the now quiet deck. The sun, protruding from the bosom of a tranquil ocean, softly stole above the horizon, and swelling into globular form, mildly assumed refulgent brightness, and: spread his genial rays around. From excess of motion we had

now lapsed into perfect rest. We contemplated the change with admiration and delight: yet wished enough of wind to carry us on our voyage. The timoncer left the helm; and the ship remained immoveable upon the water. Casting our eyes over the silver surface of the sea, to behold the beauteous rising of the sun, we offered aspirations that fierce Eurus, in the placid humour of milder Zephyr, might follow in his train.

"At this moment the sky darkened; the thermometer fell to 64; a gentle rippling spread lightly over the still surface of the water; and, almost imperceptibly, brought us

a favourable breeze! It was from the north-east; and so soft and steady that scarcely did we feel the vessel in motion, ere we were advancing at the rate of five knots an hour! What we had so long and anxiously sought, was now arrived, and we most cordially hailed ------ the trade wind! The sailors announced it in loud greetings: need I say that we partook in their liveliest joy! You will readily conceive, without expecting me to describe, our feelings upon this occasion. Never was a happier moment! All sense of our long sufferings vanished, and we were in perfect raptures on this glad event. Indeed we had much cause to think ourselves fortunate on being saluted by the favouring trades in their very earliest latitude. This was a most grateful period of our passage, and, together with the weather we have since experienced, has in some degree compensated former evils. The temperature grew cooler than it had been during the few days of calm. The breeze freshened, and all hands were busily occcupied in preparing and setting all possible sail, to obtain the full benefit of this great and constant trader's friend. Quickly new canvas stretched from every point of the masts and yards, and the ship, winged with five additional sails, widely spread her expanded pinions to embrace the breeze.

The crowded sails now remained night and day. No change: no new arrangement---occasional bracing, only, was required! We stood before the wind, and in all the delight of fair weather, and fine sailing, made from 160 to 200 knots within the sailor's day--from noon to noon. In such seas, and