CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. Ixxi 



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 



