CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. xxi 
Whilst I was on the other side of the Atlantic, I 
read an account in one of the English papers, which 
stated that the Congo expedition had entirely failed, 
and that several of the gentlemen whom I had met 
at the house of Sir Joseph Banks had perished in it. 
In the winter of 1817-18, I was in Italy with 
my friend Captain Alexander of the Navy. During 
our stay in the eternal city, I fell in with my old 
friend and schoolfellow, Captain Jones. Many a 
tree we had climbed together in the last century ; 
and, as our nerves were in excellent trim, we mounted 
to the top of St. Peter’s, ascended the cross, and 
then climbed thirteen feet higher, where we reached 
the point of the conductor, and left our gloves on it. 
After this, we visited the castle of St. Angelo, and 
contrived to get on to the head of the guardian 
angel, where we stood on one leg. 
As Captain Alexander and myself were returning 
over Mount Cenis, I fancied that the baggage had 
broken loose on the top of the carriage ; so I imme- 
diately mounted on the wheel to see what was the 
matter. As bad luck would have it, I came in con- 
tact with the window, and smashed the glass: two 
pieces of the pane, an inch long, penetrated a little 
above the cap of the left knee, on the inner side, and 
broke short off. This was at ten o'clock of the 
night. I put my thumb firmly on the wound, until 
the captain had brought one of the lamps to bear 
‘on it. On seeing the blood flow in a continued 
stream, and not by jerks, I knew that the artery 
was safe. Having succeeded in getting out the 
two pieces of glass with my finger and thumb, I 
d 4 
