This was the last night I spent in this city, in this country. The vessel, in which I had engaged a passage to Bristol, was now ready for sailing; I had only time, upon the morning of the ensuing day, to bid a hasty adieu to my grandmother, and her family, with a few other friends; to receive their blessings, and to depart. I took my place in the vessel at the wharf, some of my friends accompanying me thither; I spoke to them with my eyes, with my hands, my tongue refused utterance.
The beauty of the surrounding scenes, in passing from the city to the cove of Cork, cannot perhaps be surpassed. A few miles from the city stands a fortress, then governed by a half brother of my father. I beheld it with a humid eye, but the vessel had a fair wind, and we passed it rapidly. I retired to the cabin; my too retentive memory retraced the scenes I had witnessed, since first I reached Hibernia's hospitable shore; they were many, and to me interesting: reflection became extremely painful, yet it was impossible to avoid it; and while I was thus retrospecting, the vessel cut her way through the harbour; we had reached the cove, we were on the point of leaving the land. I jumped upon the deck, I threw my eyes over the country I was leaving, which contained all that was near and dear to me, either by the ties of blood or friendship; all, all were drawn up in order before me, it was another parting scene. Yet I cherished hope, I might again return. Alas! alas! this hope was delusive; it was an everlasting adieu. Dear country of guileless, and courteous manners, of integrity, and generous hospitality, I bid you adieu; adieu ye verdant hills, ye fertile vallies, ye gurgling rills, which every where cross the path of the traveller; ye delicious fruits, ye fragrant flowers, ye sylvan scenes, for contemplation made—adieu, perhaps forever. Here ends the various hopes and fears, which have swelled my bosom in a country celebrated for the salubrity of its air, the clearness of its waters, the richness of its pastures, and the hospitality of its inhabitants; and
Where no poisonous reptile could ever yet procure sustenance.
CHAPTER III.
Arrival in England, and further Progress of the inexperienced Traveller.
Hail, native Isle, for deeds of worth renown'd,
By Statesmen, Patriots, Poets, Heroes crown'd;
For thee my friends, my weeping friends, I leave,
To thy blest arms, thy wandering son receive.
I NOW began a new era of my melancholy life. Losing sight of land, I again retired to my cabin: alas! "busy thought was too busy for
