thirst is burning—at first I found ginger-beer the greatest comfort, but I am grown so tired of it. After all, acids are the only things, and I have been getting better ever since Mr. Maclean landed at Madeira; we there got plenty of arrow-root and lemons, and I do think they saved my life. Mrs. Baily, my servant, has been too ill to do the least thing. . . . .
"One day will give you a picture of all—fancy Mr. Maclean up by eight! ! ! taking the sun. That poor Sun—he never seems to have a moment's rest! Then he and the captain breakfast, but generally he comes for a moment to see how I am. Now I get up, but dressing is a work of time, for every two minutes you have to catch hold of something to keep your feet; I then go to the sofa in the cabin, and he is there very busy keeping the ship's reckoning. Even Lwould have enough of latitude and longitude. Till to-day I have attempted to do nothing, and even this scrawl is a labour of Hercules; the table rocks to which the sofa is tied, and the sofa rocks too. . . . .
"The sky is filled with stars, and there is a new moon—just Coleridge's description:—
'The moon is going up the sky
With a single star beside.'
"All seem to be racing—I can use no other word—up and down the heaven, with the movement of the vessel. It is tremendous to look up, and see the height to which the sails ascend—so dark, so shadowy; while the ship seems such a little thing, you cannot understand how she is not lifted out of the water. The only light is that in the binnacle, where the compass is placed,
