view of the Western Isles, very much gratified; the air was sharp and cold, the sunshine brilliant; and I believe every one on board enjoyed the scene.
23rd.—The Western Isles invisible.
24th.—The day was cold and raw, nearly a calm. At night the sailors sent off a tar-barrel with a fire in it, which went blazing along; a nautical method of celebrating Christmas Eve.
25th.—A cold raw day, with rain and fog. Divine service was performed in the cuddy. The sea almost a calm.
31st.—With a fine wind we are going nine knots off the Lizard, and looking forward to the termination of our voyage; but I cannot quit the vessel without expressing how much we have been satisfied with all the arrangements on board, which reflect great credit on the owners of the ship; and how much the attention of the commanding officer to our wishes and accommodation has removed the annoyances that old Indians necessarily must experience during a sea voyage: the vessel is well manned, her provisions are excellent and abundant, every attention is shown to the passengers, and the "Essex" is a good ship.
1846, Jan. 1st.—At 6 P.M., off Portland Race, it was bitterly cold, and I began to speculate if it were possible to exist in England.
2nd.—Off Folkstone, at 2 P.M.—I quitted the "Essex" in a Deal boat, over which the waves danced, and the wind was bitterly cold; landed at Folkstone in about four hours, half starved, cold, and hungry, and took refuge at the Pavilion Hotel, where a good dinner and the luxuries of native oysters and fresh butter made us forget all the ills that flesh is heir to.
3rd.—Started per train at 7 A.M., and found ourselves once more in London.
