The voyage to Quebec was far different from that to Jamaica. We were among the earliest vessels of the season, but not so early as to expect so wintry a passage, as, according to Captain Binnacle's opinion, we experienced. What increased our discomfort was the condition of the Mirimachi. She was called a “good ship” in the bills of lading, but as she proved very leaky, my wife most cogently observed, it was a shame and deception that deserved serious punishment— enticing honest people by false pretences to put their precious lives in danger. However, we reached Quebec, and certainly not without sufferings, both actual and imaginary.

While in the Channel, and, indeed, until we had doubled Cape Clear, we met with no great cause of annoyance. The weather was bright and breezy, but much colder than I expected. The women and some of the children were of course sea-sick, and, had I not made exertions, I might have had a relapse of the “hypochonderics;” but sensible of the folly of giving way to aimless reflections, I struggled to find objects of interest in the occurrences of the voyage. I kept a log-book, more minute than that of the ship; took observations as often as the Captain, and found a strange pleasure in discovering that my schoolboy astronomy was at last of some seeming use.