ENTHUSIASM. 395 



CHAPTER XVI. 



After speaking these coasting crafts, our course 

 was still onward and homeward. At noon we saw 

 land ; it was greeted with three as hearty cheers as 

 ever swelled American throats. All was bustle and 

 excitement, and naught but the discipline of a well- 

 regulated ship kept our enthusiasm within bounds. 

 The watch below, wearied with exertion, caught the 

 gladsome cry, and, leaping from their berths, hurried 

 on deck as tliey were, and, without hesitating at 

 the coldness of the weather, sprang, half nude, into 

 the rigging, to catch a sight of their native land. 

 One, more enthusiastic than the rest, made the fore- 

 top a rostrum, and, hatless and shoeless, with his 

 shirt flying in the wind, he repeated in a loud voice, 

 intelligible above the shrieking of the gale, the 

 beautiful lines of Sir Walter Scott : 



•'Lives there a maa with soxil so dead, 

 Who never to himself hath said — 

 This is my own, my. native land ; 

 Whose heart has ne'er within him burn'd, 

 As home his footsteps he has turn'd 

 From wandering on a foreign strand. 

 If such there be, go mark him well, 

 For him no minstrels' raptures swell ; 

 Proud though his title, high his name, 

 Boundless his wealth as wish could claim, 

 Despite his power and his pelf. 

 This wretch, concentered all in self, 



