or darkness, and being acquainted with none of the other passengers, who were talking on the deck, I thought my best plan would be to retire to the cabin and enjoy some rest, if possible.  The cabin was solitary and tolerably cool, all its windows on either side being open for the admission of air.  Flinging myself on one of the cushioned benches, I was soon asleep, in which state I continued for about two hours, when I was aroused by the curious biting of a thousand bugs, which compelled me to seek the deck, where, wrapping myself in my cloak, I again fell asleep.  It was near daybreak when I awoke; we were then about two leagues from San Lucar.  I arose and looked towards the east, watching the gradual progress of dawn, first the dull light, then the streak, then the tinge, then the bright flush, till at last the golden disk of that orb which giveth day emerged from the abyss of immensity, and in a moment the whole prospect was covered with brightness and glory.  The land smiled, the waters sparkled, the birds sang, and men arose from their resting places and rejoiced:  for it was day, and the sun was gone forth on the errand of its Creator, the diffusion of light and gladness, and the dispelling of darkness and sorrow.

“Behold the morning sun
Begins his glorious way;
His beams through all the nations run,
And life and light convey.

“But where the Gospel comes,
It spreads diviner light;
It calls dead sinners from their tombs,
And gives the blind their sight.”

We now stopped before Bonanza:  this is properly speaking the port of San Lucar, although it is half a league distant from the latter place.  It is called Bonanza on account of its good anchorage, and its being secured from the boisterous winds of the ocean; its literal meaning is “fair weather.”  It consists of several large white buildings, principally government store-houses, and is inhabited by the coast-guard, dependents on the custom-house, and a few fishermen.  A boat came off to receive those passengers whose destination was San Lucar, and to bring on board about half a dozen who were bound for Cadiz:  I entered with the rest.  A young Spaniard of very diminutive stature addressed some questions to me in French as to what I thought of the scenery and climate of Andalusia.  I replied that I admired both, which evidently gave him great pleasure.  The boatman now came demanding two reals for conveying me on shore.  I had no small money, and offered him a dollar to change.  He said that it was impossible.  I asked him what was to be done; whereupon he replied uncivilly that he knew not, but could not lose time, and expected to be paid instantly.  The young Spaniard, observing my embarrassment, took out two reals and paid the fellow.  I thanked him heartily for this act of civility, for which I felt really grateful; as there are few situations more unpleasant than to be in a crowd in want of change, whilst you are importuned by people for payment.  A loose character once told me that it was far preferable to be without money at all, as you then knew what course to take.  I subsequently met the young Spaniard at Cadiz, and repaid him with thanks.