needed it badly enough; nor do I mind the wetting, for I am bare-footed and my duck trousers always expect it.  We have been five days now upon the water, and since we have thrown overboard the good things that Clarendon laid in for the voyage, and taken to sailor’s fare, we have no more of that horrid sea-sickness.  Hard biscuit and water are just as good as any thing else, if you only get used to it, and the fish which we caught this morning are delicious.  We came upon a fine shoal of them, and for several hours had nothing to do but pull them in, one after another, as fast as we could put our hooks down.  I got hold of a very big fellow, myself, but he was nearer drawing me out of the schooner than I him into it, till David Cobb came to the rescue, and gave such a tug at the line, that he was soon floundering about on the deck.  I never knew what an apt comparison “like a fish out of water” is, till I saw him flapping round.

If you only knew David I am sure you would like him.  He is as different as can be from our Virginia boys, and yet we are excellent friends.  I thought at first that he did not know any thing, when I found out that he had never even heard the names of some of our most distinguished families, and I suspect he despised me in his heart because I was so ignorant about the old Pilgrim Fathers.

We have many an argument about New England and the Old Dominion, but keep our tempers pretty well, and each of us finds a great deal to boast of.  There is one thing I can say which really troubles him, for he can’t deny that it is a great honor to the State, and that is, that General Washington was born and brought up and died in Virginia.  O, how he glories even that Washington was an American, and what would he not give if he could claim him for his dear Massachusetts!  I used to think that the Yankees were all cold-hearted and never got excited about any thing; but David looks as if his soul was all on fire when he speaks of the Father of his Country, and he drinks in every word I can tell him of Mount Vernon.  He has made me tell him over as much as three times all the stories grandfather told us of the time when he belonged to Washington’s military family, and what he said to grandmother when they were both children.

There goes Clarendon, staggering up and down the deck from sea-sickness.  He will not take enough of the sailor’s fare to do him any good, and the wry faces which he makes over a few mouthfuls are pitiful.  Before he could get the sails shifted, I am sure the wind would change, and though the crew try to be polite, they can’t help laughing to see what an awkward hand he is at doing any thing.  There goes the “Heave ho!” which sounds so delightfully to me.