and, on one of those occasions, his Lordship, with the
captain, caught a turtle--I rather think two--we likewise hooked a
shark, part of which was dressed for breakfast, and tasted, without
relish; your shark is but a cannibal dainty.
As we approached the gulf, or bay, of Cagliari, in Sardinia, a strong
north wind came from the shore, and we had a whole disagreeable day
of tacking, but next morning, it was Sunday, we found ourselves at
anchor near the mole, where we landed. Byron, with the captain, rode
out some distance into the country, while I walked with Mr Hobhouse
about the town: we left our cards for the consul, and Mr Hill, the
ambassador, who invited us to dinner. In the evening we landed
again, to avail ourselves of the invitation; and, on this occasion,
Byron and his Pylades dressed themselves as aides-de-camp--a
circumstance which, at the time, did not tend to improve my
estimation of the solidity of the character of either. But such is
the force of habit: it appeared a less exceptionable affectation in
the young peer than in the commoner.
Had we parted at Cagliari, it is probable that I should have retained
a much more favourable recollection of Mr Hobhouse than of Lord
Byron; for he was a cheerful companion, full of odd and droll
stories, which he told extremely well; he was also good-humoured and
intelligent--altogether an advantageous specimen of a well-educated
English gentleman. Moreover, I was at the time afflicted with a
nervous dejection, which the occasional exhilaration produced by his
anecdotes and college tales often materially dissipated, though, for
the most part, they were more after the manner and matter of Swift
than of Addison.
Byron was, during the passage, in delicate health, and upon an
abstemious regimen. He rarely tasted wine, nor more than half a
glass, mingled with water, when he did. He ate little; no animal
food, but only bread and vegetables. He reminded me of the ghoul
that picked rice with a needle; for it was manifest, that he had not
acquired his knowledge of the world by always dining so sparely. If
my remembrance is not treacherous, he only spent one evening in the
cabin with us--the evening before we came to anchor at Cagliari; for,
when the lights were placed, he made himself a man forbid, took his
station on the railing between the pegs on which the sheets are
belayed and the shrouds, and there, for hours, sat in silence,
enamoured, it may be, of the moo
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