210 Dry -Fly Fishing. 



mate told me. I have sometimes, metaphorically, 

 been in a " fog," often in a too real London black 

 fog, both of which are disconcerting and perplexing 

 enough, but never before in one at sea, shut, utterly 

 helpless, within four thick walls of vapour rendering 

 sky and land and even water invisible. Therefore, 

 as I sat in the forepart of the ship, on a huge 

 wooden chest labelled " Life Buoys and Cork 

 Jackets,' 7 very suggestive of death by drowning, 

 there seemed to my inexperienced mind an element 

 of danger, and I began to think of home ties, soon 

 perchance to be broken, &c. Just then a stranger, 

 John H. Jones, Esq., came up to me he had no 

 misgivings, assuring me that there was no cause 

 for anxiety. " See ! " said he, " if the worst were to 

 come there are plenty of boats on board, you are 

 sitting over life-saving appliances, and we cannot be 

 far from land, for a long-distant foghorn has been 

 faintly heard " (or imagined, I thought, for a sense 

 of sound often precedes the certainty of hearing it), 

 "and help would soon come." His hopeful and 

 optimistic spirit gradually restored my equanimity, 

 and as we conversed together on various subjects 

 there was much in common between us ; my views, 

 tastes, and ideas were so like his own. Indeed, 

 when we exchanged cards as the bells of the morn- 

 ing watch (indicating 5 o'clock) rang out into the 

 misty air, startling the silence, we were already 



