on such
of us, as had, from our childhood, associated the idea of _liberty_
with the name of _Old England_; but a man must travel beyond the smoke
of his own chimney to acquire correct ideas of the characters of men,
and of nations.--We however saw the worst of it at first; for every
day our residence appeared less disagreeable.

We arrived here the 11th of October; and our lot was better than that
of thirty of our companions, who came on a little after us from
Plymouth. These 30 men were sent from the West-Indies, and had no
descriptive lists, and it was necessary that these men should be
measured and described as to stature, complexion, &c.--Capt. Shortland
therefore ordered them to be shut up in the prison No. 6. This was a
more cold, dreary and comfortless place than No. 7. Their bed was
nothing but the cold damp stones; and being in total darkness they
dare not walk about. These 30 men had been imprisoned at Barbadoes;
and they had supposed that when they arrived at this famous birth
place of liberty, they should not be excluded from all her blessings.
They had suffered much at Barbadoes, and they expected a different
treatment in England; but alas! Captain Shortland at once dissipated
the illusion and shewed himself what Britons really are. The next
morning they were taken up to Captain Shortland's office to be
described, and marked, and numbered. One of the thirty, an old and
respectable Captain of an American ship, complained of his usage, and
told Shortland that he had been several times a prisoner of war, but
never experienced such barbarous treatment before. The man only
replied that their not having their beds was the fault of the Turnkey;
as if that could ever be admitted as an excuse among military men.
[--> _For a minute description of Dartmoor Prison see the engraving._]

Dartmoor is a dreary spot of itself; it is rendered more so by the
westerly winds blowing from the Atlantic ocean, which have the same
quality and effects as the easterly wind, blowing from the same ocean,
are known to have in New-England. This high land receives the sea mist
and fogs; and they settle on our skins with a deadly dampness. Here
reigns, more than two thirds of the year, "_the Scotch mist_," which
is famous to a proverb. This moor affords nothing for subsistence or
pleasure. Rabbits cannot live on it. Birds fly from it; and it is
inhabited, according to the belief of the most vulgar, by ghosts and
daemons; to which will