hours, will suddenly emerge from
almost total darkness, the clouds break away, and all hearts are
gladdened by finding themselves once more beneath the rays of the
glorious sun.

Captain Basil Hall gives an amusing instance of such an occurrence.
The Cambrian 'had run in from sea towards the coast, enveloped in one
of these dense fogs. Of course they took it for granted that the
light-house and the adjacent land--Halifax included--were likewise
covered with an impenetrable cloud of mist; but it so chanced, by what
freak of Dame Nature I know not, that the fog on that day was confined
to the deep water, so that we who were in the port could see it at the
distance of several miles from the coast, lying on the ocean like a
huge stratum of snow, with an abrupt face fronting the shore.

'The Cambrian, lost in the midst of this fog-bank, supposing herself
to be near land, fired a gun. To this the light-house replied; and so
the ship and the light-house went on pelting away gun for gun during
half the day, without seeing one another.

'The people at the light-house had no means of communicating to the
frigate, that if she would only stand on a little further, she would
disentangle herself from the cloud, in which, like Jupiter Olympus of
old, she was wasting her thunder. At last, the captain, hopeless of
its clearing up, gave orders to pipe to dinner; but as the weather, in
all respects except this abominable haze, was quite fine, and the ship
was still in deep water, he directed her to be steered towards the
shore, and the lead kept constantly going. As one o'clock approached,
he began to feel uneasy, from the water shoaling, and the light-house
guns sounding closer and closer; but being unwilling to disturb the
men at their dinner, he resolved to stand on for the remaining ten
minutes of the hour. Lo and behold! however, they had not sailed half
a mile further before the flying gib-boom end emerged from the wall of
mist, then the bowsprit shot into daylight, and lastly, the ship
herself glided out of the cloud into the full blaze of a bright and
'sunshine holiday.' All hands were instantly turned up to make sail:
and the men, as they flew on deck, could scarcely believe their senses
when they saw behind them the fog-bank--right ahead the harbour's
mouth, with the bold cliffs of Cape Sambro on the left--and further
still, the ships at their moorings, with their ensigns and pendants
blowing out light and dry in the breeze.'