this morning and had 10 hours' jumbling, I may be
sleepy enough to forget that I am on a shelf instead of a bed; so I have
been just to admire the moon as we sail out of harbour, and then go to
bed and find myself in sight of Ostend when I awake.

(_E. Stanley resumes next day._)

A dead calm succeeded to a gentle breeze, and on the soft, sleepy
billows we have reposed in the Downs, rolling ever since. To comfort us
we have a beautiful Packet and a limited number of passengers.

The discomfort consists in a rapid diminution of all our provisions and
the consequent prospect of no Tea, supper, or breakfast, or dinner
to-morrow. One sailor said to another as he was skinning some miserable
fish, "Aye, aye, they" (meaning the passengers) "will be glad enough of
these in a day or two, and I was eleven days becalmed last year."

Kitty, to fill up an hour of vacuity, said she would draw, and to fill
up my time this testifies that I have been thinking of you and wishing
for your presence, for the Novelty alone would keep you in full
effervesence and banish all Tediosity.

I have, moreover, been playing with a sweet little French dog brought by
one of the sailors from Boulogne. The sailors have daily given him two
glasses of gin to check his growth, and a marvellous dog of Lilliput he
is! Pray, my dear Lou, drink no gin, for you see the consequences.

I had retired to bed, when Edward Leycester called me up to admire a
beautiful display of Neptune's fireworks; wherever the surface of the
waves was agitated, the circles of silver flashed and the drops were
scattered far and wide.

The morning dawned upon us nearly in the same position, not a breath
troubled the surface, smooth and still as Radnor Mere on the sweetest
evening.

Famine began to stare us in the face; our provisions were nearly
exhausted; two or more days might elapse before we reached Ostend.

We breakfasted on tea, fried skate and cheese. Breakfast at an end, it
was proposed to board the nearest vessel and beg or borrow a dinner. In
the tide course appeared a sail, about five miles distant.

The boat was lowered, volunteers stepped forward--Uncle, Edward, Donald,
and a gentleman-like Belgian.

Away we went and by hard rowing we came alongside the strange sail in an
hour. Three leaden figures, motionless as the unwieldly bark they
manned, gazed curiously upon our approaching boat. Our Belgian friend
hailed, but hailed in vain. They looked but spoke not.