turned, skewed, slewed, warped, pitched forward and backward, tossed up and down, down and up, this way and that way, round and round, crossways and kit-a-cornered, in every possible manner. On the ocean, fresh from civilized life, this may be called sea-sickness, but elsewhere I should term it next to a torturous death! No more terrible experience can a man have of life upon the broad waters than his first few days at sea when thus attacked."
Again, at a later date I find, "A miserable time I have had of it—ill nearly since we left; and now, as I write, my head is like a mountain of solid rock. Sea-sickness is really too bad, especially after eating, or trying to eat, a good dinner."
An ancient philosopher, on reviewing his work at the end of each day, and finding no special good acquired or accomplished, used to write down in his diary, "Perdidi diem"—I have lost a day. Alas for me, I had to repeat that in my journal for twelve days! It is true that several times I recorded the temperature of the air and sea, the state of the barometer, and made various other observations whenever the weather would permit, but, nevertheless, so powerless did I feel for mental or bodily work, that at the end of each day I felt compelled to enter down as a sad but truthful fact, "Perdidi diem." At length I quite recovered, and on the 9th of June, for the first time since leaving port, I felt as a man should feel, once more strong and capable of any exertion. I soon began to classify my labours, devoting so many hours to reading, to study, to writing, exercise, reflection, and sleep. As my buoyancy of spirits arose, and I watched the good ship bounding on her way over the sparkling waters, everything seemed full of life and animation. The Giver of all good was supreme upon the blue ocean as He was upon the shore. Even the "Mother Carey's chickens"—the little stormy petrels—sportively played about, no doubt happy in their way, as they danced up and down, slightly dipping the tips of their wings in the uneven waves, and then hieing away to absent mates, that they might be brought to greet the passing ship.
