they hailed us to know the latitude and longitude, and found their calculations erroneous. The captain invited the master on board; they threw overboard a cockle-shell of a boat, in which the master and one of the men came alongside: it was beautiful and fearful to see that little boat on the waves,—they were still so tempestuous. The two men came on deck; the master was the finest specimen of the veteran sailor I ever beheld,—a strong, fine man, weather-beaten until his face looked like leather, frank and good-humoured,—he pleased us all very much. They had been beating about where they then were for the last fortnight, and had had hard work of it. We exchanged spirits and tobacco for delicious Lisbon oranges, and all parties were pleased. The old sailor returned in the cockle-shell to the larger boat, and we all watched his progress with interest; they pulled her in, and we soon bade adieu to the orange vessel.
13th.—For some time we had been busy arranging for going on shore, which I determined to do if possible at Plymouth; therefore my packages of curiosities were got up,—at least as many as I thought I could take with me, being nine chests; and all the buffalo and stags' horns were in readiness. About thirty-five miles from Plymouth a pilot vessel came alongside, and we calculated on landing in her in four hours. At 5 P.M., having taken leave of the captain, who had shown us the greatest attention during the voyage, we went—a large party—on board the pilot vessel: no sooner did we enter her than the wind changed, the rain fell, it was very cold; we were forced to go below into a smoky cabin, the children squalled, and we all passed a most wretched night.
14th.—We arrived at 6 A.M. May-flowers and sunshine were in my thoughts. It was bitterly cold walking up from the boat,—rain, wind and sleet, mingled together, beat on my face. I thought of the answer of the French ambassador to one of the attachés, who asked why the Tower guns were firing,—"Mon ami, c'est peut-être qu'on voit le soleil."
Every thing on landing looked so wretchedly mean, especially the houses, which are built of slate stone, and also slated down the sides; it was cold and gloomy;—no wonder on first
