If this had happened in the midst of the western sea, we must have returned, or have perished with thirst.
12th.—In the stage for Newport, Isle of Wight, to the hospitable board of Messrs. J. and Edward Pittiss, where we were regaled like princes. This town is London in miniature; it contains 6,000 people, and is as beautiful as any in Britain. Viewed Carisbrook Castle, with its wonderful well, 250 feet deep. Visited Mr. Barnet of Cowes, who has wild cattle on his estate. Left our good and hospitable friends, and promised to ourselves to return such kindness with interest, when opportunity occurred.
19th.—Reached Roxhall-farm, near God's Hill, to dine with John Arnold, Esq. whose house and estate are delightful. Mr. Arnold has resolved on emigration, with handsome property, good agricultural knowledge, and first-rate general intelligence. He farms 400 acres of good land at 20s. per acre, but has lost on it 300l. per annum for some time past, which he thinks is an argument in favour of emigration.[1]
25th.—For the first time in my life it has been [7] my lot, while on board the Ruthy, and that too in Portsmouth Harbour, to partake of chicken which had died diseased, and pig killed because it could no longer live, though well nursed during its sickness. I, in consequence, dread starving if I remain here; the recollection of having thus fed, quite destroying appetite. Mr. Pittiss this day came on board with the present of a hare, which was barbarously boiled, and slush (or melted fat) poured over it for dinner. This was my last interview with this respectable man, to whom I gave introductory letters to friends in America.
- ↑ This gentleman and family, with 10 of the Pittiss family, sons and daughters, brave and fair as Britain boast, have emigrated to the Western wilds.—Faux.
