t days I ever saw: we are fishing under the
Magdalen islands; the weather is perfectly calm, the sea just dimpled,
the sun-beams dance on the waves, the fish are playing on the surface
of the water: the island is at a proper distance to form an agreable
point of view; and upon the whole the scene is divine.

There is one house on the island, which, at a distance, seems so
beautifully situated, that I have lost all desire of fixing at Bic: I
want to land, and go to the house for milk, but there is no good
landing place on this side; the island seems here to be fenced in by a
regular wall of rock.

A breeze springs up; our fishing is at an end for the present: I am
afraid we shall not pass many days so agreably as we have done this. I
feel horror at the idea of so soon losing sight of land, and launching
on the _vast Atlantic_.

Adieu! yours,
A. Fitzgerald.

LETTER 174.

To Mrs. Temple, Pall Mall.

Aug. 26, at Sea.

We have just fallen in with a ship from New York to London, and, as
it is a calm, the master of it is come on board; whilst he is drinking
a bottle of very fine madeira, which Fitzgerald has tempted him with on
purpose to give me this opportunity, as it is possible he may arrive
first, I will write a line, to tell my dear Lucy we are all well, and
hope soon to have the happiness of telling her so in person; I also
send what I scribbled before we lost sight of land; for I have had no
spirits to write or do any thing since.

There is inexpressible pleasure in meeting a ship at sea, and
renewing our commerce with the human kind, after having been so
absolutely separated from them. I feel strongly at this moment the
inconstancy of the species: we naturally grow tired of the company on
board our own ship, and fancy the people in every one we meet more
agreable.

For my part, this spirit is so powerful in me, that I would gladly,
if I could have prevailed on my father and Fitzgerald, have gone on
board with this man, and pursued our voyage in the New York ship. I
have felt the same thing on land in a coach, on seeing another pass.

We have had a very unpleasant passage hitherto, and weather to
fright a better sailor than your friend: it is to me astonishing, that
there are men found, and those men of fortune too, who can fix on a sea
life as a profession.

How strong must be the love of gain, to tempt us to embrace a life
of danger, pain, and misery; to give up all the beauties