SEA- SICKNESS. 



31 



term it next to a torturous death ! ]NTo more terrible experience 

 can a man have of life upon the broad waters than his first few 

 days at sea when thus attacked." 



Again, at a later date I find, "A miserable time I have had of 

 it — ill nearly since we left ; and now, as I write, my head is like 

 a mountain of solid rock. Sea-sickness is really too bad, especial- 

 ly after eating, or trying to eat, a good dinner." 



An ancient philosopher, on reviewing his work at the end of 

 each day, and finding no special good acquired or accomplished, 

 used to write down in his diary, "Perdidi diem" — I have lost a 

 day. Alas for me, I had to repeat that in my journal for twelve 

 days ! It is true that several times I recorded the temperature 

 of the air and sea, the state of the barometer, and made various 

 other observations whenever the weather would permit, but, nev- 

 ertheless, so powerless did I feel for mental or bodily work, that 

 at the end of each day I felt compelled to enter down as a sad 

 but truthful fact, u Perdidi diem." At length I quite recovered, 

 and on the 9th of June, for the first time since leaving port, I felt 

 as a man should feel, once more strong and capable of any exer- 

 tion. I soon began to classify my labors, devoting so many hours 

 to reading, to study, to writing, exercise, reflection, and sleep. As 

 my buoyancy of spirits arose, and I watched the good ship bound- 

 ing on her way over the sparkling waters, every thing seemed 

 full of life and animation. The Giver of all good was supreme 

 upon the blue ocean as He was upon the shore. Even the "Moth- 

 er Cary's chickens" — the little stormy petrel — sportively played 

 about, no doubt happy in their way, as they danced up and down, 

 slightly dipping the tips of their wings in the uneven waves, and 

 then hieing away to absent mates, that they might be brought to 

 greet the passing ship. 



About a week after our departure, the cry was raised, There 

 she blows ! there she blows ! and, hurrying on deck, I for the 

 first time saw at a distance the blowing of whales. What this 

 "blowing" was like may be described by asking if the reader has 

 ever seen the smoke produced by the firing of an old-fashioned 

 flint-lock ? If so, then he may understand the appearance of the 

 blow of a whale — a flash in the pan, and all is over. I watched 

 with eager interest this school of " fin-backs," numbering some 

 twenty -five or thirty whales — a rare sight to see so many togeth- 

 er. But they are not generally attacked, as they are difficult to 

 capture, and yield but little oil. 



