type of the forecastles of those days.

After getting clear of the land the wind died away; and soon after came
from the eastward, and was the commencement of a snow storm which lasted
twelve hours, when it backed into the north-west, and the foresail was
set with the view of scudding before the wind. It soon blew a heavy
gale; the thermometer fell nearly to zero; ice gathered in large
quantities on our bowsprit, bows, and rigging, and the brig labored
and plunged fearfully in the irregular cross sea when urged through the
water by the blustering gale.

To save the vessel from foundering, it became necessary to lay her to
under a close-reefed main-topsail. It was about half past eleven o'clock
at night, when all hands were called for that purpose. Unfortunately
my feet were not well protected from the inclemency of the weather, and
became thoroughly wet before I had been five minutes on deck. We had
difficulty in handling the foresail, in consequence of the violence of
the wind and the benumbing effect of the weather, and remained a long
time on the yard. When I reached the deck, my stockings were frozen to
my feet, and I suffered exceedingly from the cold.

It was now my "trick at the helm,": for notwithstanding we were lying
to, it was considered necessary for some one to remain near the tiller,
watch the compass, and be in readiness for any emergency. I stamped my
feet occasionally, with a view to keep them from freezing, and thought I
had succeeded; and when at four o'clock I went below and turned into my
berth, they felt comfortable enough, and I fell into a deep sleep,
from which I was awakened by burning pains in my feet and fingers. My
sufferings were intolerable, and I cried out lustily in my agony,
and was answered from another part of the forecastle, where one of my
watchmates, a youth but little older than myself, was extended, also
suffering from frozen feet and hands.

Our united complaints, which by no means resembled a concert of sweet
sounds, aroused from his slumbers our remaining watchmate, Newhall,
an experienced tar, who cared little for weather of any description,
provided he was not stinted in his regular proportion of sleep. In a
surly mood he inquired what was the trouble. On being told, he remarked
with a vein of philosophy and a force of logic which precluded all
argument, that if our feet were frozen, crying and groaning would do US
no good, while it would annoy him and prevent his sleep