"Comin, sir, comin!" "Stuart? vasser und toel!" "Here, sir." "Amigo! how is
the wind?" (This is the waking up of el Senor Ministro, putting his head
half suffocated out of his berth.) "Oh steward! steward!" "Yes, miss,"
"Come here, and look at _this_!" "I'll fix it, miss,"--etc.

1st November.--A fair wind after a stifling night, and strong hopes of
seeing the Bahama Banks on Sunday. Most people are now gradually ascending
from the lower regions, and dragging themselves on deck with pale and
dejected countenances. Madame A---- has such a sweet-toned voice in
speaking, especially in her accents of her _bella Italia_, that it is
refreshing to listen to her. I have passed all day in reading, after a
desultory fashion, "Les Enfants d'Edouard," by Casimir Delavigne,
Washington Irving, D'Israeli's "Curiosities of Literature," etc.; and it is
rather singular that while there is a very tolerable supply of English and
French books here, I see but one or two odd volumes in Spanish, although
these packets are constantly filled with people of that nation, going and
coming. Is it that they do not care for reading, or that less attention is
paid to them than to the French or American passengers? One would think
Cervantes, Lope de Vega, Calderon, or Moratin, better worth buying than
many commonplace novels which I find here.

3rd.--Yesterday the wind blew soft as on a summer morning. A land-bird flew
into the ship. To-day the wind has veered round, but the weather continues
charming. The sea is covered with multitudes of small flying-fish. An
infantile water-spout appeared, and died in its birth. Mr. -----, the
consul, has been giving me an account of the agreeable society in the
Sandwich Islands! A magnificent sunset, the sight of which compensates for
all the inconveniences of the voyage. The sky was covered with black clouds
lined with silver, and surrounded by every variety of colour; deep blue,
fleecy, rose, violet, and orange. The heavens are now thickly studded with