ground whatever for the surmise at the time, hearing no intimation to that effect, and I was surprised when I afterwards learned from the second mate, that in consequence of the men not keeping a good look-out, we had well-nigh run ashore just at that time.

"At about half-past four, Captain Gardiner awoke me, and told me the land was well in sight. I arose and went on deck. There was Tierra del Fuego, sure enough; its snow-tipped mountains were looming through the vapors of the morning sky, and the land of Fuegia threw a faint cold smile upon us, and greeted us with a rough, but, doubtless, a hearty shake of the hand; for truly enough we shivered, if not at the sight of it, yet, with cold. At eight o'clock we were off the entrance of the Strait of Le Maire; but the wind being adverse, we could not take advantage of the tide which set at that hour. Consequently, we had to lie off, and beat between the two coasts of Staten Island and the mainland. We had thus abundant opportunity for seeing this remarkable land, particularly Staten Island, and likewise abundant experience of the extreme disagreeableness of our proximity to the Strait of Le Maire. The swell from the ocean here rising in opposition to the tide-race produces a scene altogether novel to us; the sea seems literally alive; its commotion is extreme. Abreast the land in particular, and extending two or three miles out, or more, there

is the appearance of innumerable breakers, and the white spray dashes its waters about in the wildest manner. The wind blowing strong from the S.E., we rolled about, owing to it and the tide-race and swell combined, far more than we should have done in an ordinary gale. At three o'clock we hoped to have an opportunity again, it being ebb-tide, to pass through; but though we tried, it was impossible, the wind continuing unfavorable. We have thus during the day, it being now nearly eleven P.M., had ample experience of Fuegian weather. If we must take it for a sample, it is certainly none of the best ;-sudden puffs of wind, with ominous gathering of dark clouds, and a chilly aspect of the whole heavens, with a conviction seizing your mind, that you are going to have a snow-storm, which apprehension is converted into the slighter infliction of a thin driving but sharp sleet, or, as I expect we may yet find, into a thumping hail-storm; and then the mist on the mountains clears up, and exposes a few glimmering rays of the sun, burnishing their sides of snow.

"In excellent keeping with the rough and wintry climate is the aspect of the land. Words can never do justice to its frowning, wild, and wintry character. Staten Island must certainly be unequalled in this respect. It is a place of dreariness and of forlorn solitude, par excellence. Its bare, broken, jagged, turret-like hills, present the idea

of an immense fortress, erected by nature herself on her own grand scale, and designed to imprison an unmolested solitude within its walls, and to frown back all attempts on the part of man to disturb her here. It is no wonder that it never has been inhabited. It seems from a distance as though it were clad in some hard and impenetrable covering, saving the snows on its ridges and slopes, of one uniform russet brown colour.

This

"I have not felt disturbed by any means. I must attribute to the grace of God only, and to no resolution or constancy of my mind; for who can delight more than I in sunny scenes? But, praise God, I feel I can well forego all earthly joys, if the Lord will graciously vouchsafe to bless my soul, and endow me with the riches of his grace. I was greatly strengthened while in prayer this morning. At this the uttermost end of the earth, and where there is less in climate, land, or people, to cheer the mind, than at almost any other spot of the world, if God has a work for me to do, and his blessing rests upon me whilst engaged therein, then God's holy will be done in me and by me, let the circumstances surrounding, or the events awaiting me, be what they will. At the time of writing this it is blowing hard, and the thermometer in the cabin, shut up around me, stands at 52°. I am indeed glad to wrap up now. "Saturday, November 30.-Our twelfth week

at sea.

At four o'clock this morning, our ship

having worked about all night, with a strong head wind from the S.S.W., we were in the same position; and our bearings off Cape San Diego, at the entrance of the Strait of Le Maire, were much the same as they were yesterday morning at eight o'clock. Wind and tide against us had beaten us back from all attempts hitherto made to enter the Strait; but now, taking advantage of an ebb-tide and a strong wind, the Captain carried on a heavy canvas, and finally about mid-day we got through the Strait. It was a hard contest, and we did but just escape the lee-shore of Staten Island, as we weathered Cape St Bartholomew. All the day long we have continued to beat about under single-reefed topsails, having, especially during the night, very violent squalls and a tremendous sea, shipping heavy seas on our poop. What with the extreme gloom of the weather, snow, sleet, hail, and rain, and fogs, intermixed with a driving cold S.S.W. wind, blowing hard, with the dashing of the billows over us, and the rolling and pitching of the vessel, our position was by no means agreeable. Such was the pitching and constant motion of the vessel, that it induced a momentary attack of sea-sickness with me, whilst my poor friend Mr Maidment suffered very severely, as indeed he has done throughout the voyage whenever the weather has been rough.

"The following day, Sunday, was passed beating about, with much the same weather prevailing,

the thermometer in the cabin standing most of the day at 42° and 44° Fahr.

"Surely Fuegia is the land of darkness, the country of gloom, a scene of wild desolation, both land and climate agreed as to character, the one frowning and desolate, the other black and tempestuous. A few, and only a few, cheering smiles has the sun beamed upon us, and the cold snows upon the rough masses of Staten Island put on an unnatural appearance, and looked more and more pale under the reviving influences of the light. If such the land, and such the climate, we have reason to expect the people will not fall short of congruity with either. Well, and how do I bear up under these not very flattering prospects? Have I had my expectations pointed to such an agreeable picture? What shall I say? I will own the truth. I have not been ignorant of the fact, that such was the character of the region to which I was bound. Captain FitzRoy, and especially Mr Darwin, in his 'Journal,' had made this sufficiently clear, yet I certainly had not in any degree realised it. How different is the acquaintance we get by reading, from that which we acquire by personal experience of things! In our parlours at home we do not shiver at the cold scenes we read of, but rather enjoy by contrast our present comforts. It is singular that amidst all the working of my mind in connexion with this great undertaking, never contemplated it in the character of one of