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 LETTER III.

July 7th, 17—.

,—I write you a few lines in haste, to say that I am safe, and well advanced on my voyage. This letter will reach England by a merchantman now on its homeward voyage from Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may not see my native land, perhaps, for many years. I am, however, in good spirits: my men are bold, and apparently firm of purpose; nor do the floating sheets of ice that continually pass us, indicating the dangers of the region toward which we are advancing, appear to dismay them. We have already reached a very high latitude; but it is the height of summer, and although not so warm as England, the southern gales, which blow us speedily toward those shores which I so ardently desire to attain, breathe a degree of renovating warmth which I had not expected.

No incidents have hitherto befallen us that would make a figure in a letter. One or two