elemental war without, the ocean's roar, and the howling wind, each bulk-head and spar would express its sufferings in the most mournful complainings! At times, these hitherto plaintive wailings would wax "louder, longer, louder still," till, rising in full chorus, they would become as outrageous and discordant as a menagerie at feeding time;-and then would come an interval of rest-a moment of intense stillness, as if the winds and waves took breathing time, and paused to watch the effect of their last effort upon our gallant bark, or mark how they could best apply the succeeding one.
On Wednesday, a small bird (one of the fly-catchers) hovered about the vessel, at least seventy miles off land: unable to bear up longer, it fluttered a few minutes among the rigging, fell exhausted upon the deck, and died almost immediately. Next day, a dove made its appearance, endeavouring to reach us ;-poor thing! it came, like Noah's of old, not with an olive leaf, and the welcome tidings of land, but to tell us, that she, too, could find
no rest for the sole of her foot." The wind continuing to head us, and freshening into a gale, we made but little way, and, to complete our miseries, the mainmast sprung at the deck! This misfortune was remedied during the day, the mast having been "fished" and rendered secure enough to carry a trysail, under which we made land on the following morning, September 29th, and a more welcome hail never saluted my ears. The sea moderated, and we determined on running into Corunna to refit. How weary one feels on first coming on deck, after a few days' sea-rocking; a lassitude very similar to that experienced in coach-travelling. We had perceived it gradually getting warmer for the last two days, and now the difference of climate was much greater than we could have supposed, from so slight a difference of latitude.
The north-west coast of Galicia, along which now lay our course, is bleak and rugged, though not deserving the term bold or iron-bound. The famous Hercules light, which forms so striking an object on this coast, soon pointed to where the swollen waves of Biscay give place to the calm and secure waters of the united harbours of Corunna and Ferrol. The numberless wind-mills that crown every eminence, in full work, with their snow-white sails glancing in the sun, carried us back to the days of Quixotte and Spanish knight errantry. The sight of them, indeed, always created a smile; and perhaps it may be here