t on the evening of the fourth day after
the gale had blown itself out, and arriving at Spithead somewhat within
the next forty-eight hours.

The anchor let go, Smellie and I jumped into the gig, and, taking the
despatch-box with us, pulled ashore, landing at the Sally-port. From
thence we proceeded, first to the admiral's office, and afterwards to
the "George" in High Street, where I ordered a post-chaise; and then the
pair of us sat down to a hastily-prepared dinner while the carriage was
in process of fitting-out.

In consequence of my representations to the admiral, he had ordered the
"Vigilant" into harbour immediately, to refit and make good the slight
damage inflicted on us during the gale in the Bay of Biscay, and, when
the post-chaise was announced, Smellie only remained long enough to see
me fairly under way, when he returned on board to take the little hooker
into harbour, and superintend the operation of refitting.

It was not quite six p.m. when we shoved off from before the door of the
"George," and dashed away up the High Street, and soon afterwards the
chaise was bowling along at a spanking pace over the dry, white, dusty
road in the open country--the landscape flooded in the lovely golden
haze of a fine summer evening, and the air heavy with the perfume of
flowers and the sweet, health-giving smell of rich pasture-lands, long
chestnut-avenues, and thick pine plantations. The mingled odours of the
country--so different from the strong smell of the sea-breeze--the sight
of the slanting sunbeams glancing through the boles and branches of the
venerable trees dotted here and there in clumps along the roadside; of
the verdant hedges with their rich clusters of delicate dog-roses and
trailing honeysuckle or wild convolvulus; of the groups of sleek cattle
feeding in the fields, contemplatively chewing the cud under the shade
of some over-hanging tree, or browsing along the roadside; of the knots
of rosy, sun-tanned children playing about the village-roads or on the
green, and turning to stand open-mouthed and stare at the chaise as we
dashed past; of the pretty cottages nestling in a bower of greenery,
each with its tiny flower-garden in front, and a thin wreath of blue
smoke curling up from its chimney into the still evening air; of the
picturesque villages, with their ancient church-spires pointing
heavenward; and of the stately country-seats of the gentry, surrounded
by noble trees, the growth of centuri