ago. The faces of all on board are calmly lugubrious. Little said. A few
Spanish shrugs interchanged with ominous significance.

10th.--As there is only one particular wind during which it is not
dangerous to approach the coast, namely, "_la brisa_," the breeze which
usually follows the norther, we may spend our Christmas here. The weather
is beautiful, though very sultry, especially during the calms which
intervene between the _nortes_. With books one might take patience, but I
read and re-read backwards and forwards everything I possess, or can
find--reviews, magazines, a volume of Humboldt, even an odd volume of the
"Barber of Paris"--"Turkish Letters," _purporting_ to be the translation of
a continuation of the Montesquieu's "Lettres Persanes," and in which the
hero, disguised as a gardener, brings the Visier's daughter a bouquet,
which she condescendingly receives, lying in bed _a l'Espagnole!_ I am now
reduced to a very serious Spanish work on the truth of Christianity.

This evening, to the joy of all on board, arose the long-desired breeze.
The ship went slowly and steadily on her course, at first four, then eight
knots an hour. The captain, however, looked doubtingly, and, indeed,
towards morning, the wind changed to the south, and our hopes died away.

11th.--Contrary wind. A south, expected to be followed by a "norte seguro."
But now, at eleven, A.M., it is quite calm, and very sultry, whilst to
increase, if possible, our weariness, a long range of lofty mountains
stretches along the horizon, from Punta Delgada to the Cofre de Perote, and
on till they seem to sink in the ocean. Behind the Cofre rises Orizava, now
like a white cloud, but this morning tinged with a rosy light by the rays
of the rising sun. The sea is tranquil and the horizon clear, nevertheless
the enemy is looked for. There are a few white and feathery clouds
flickering about in the sky, and there is an uneasy swell in the waves....