wind draws round the mountains and comes off in uncertain flaws,
we were continually swinging round, and had thus got a very foul hawse.
We hove in upon our chain, and after stoppering and unshackling it
again and again, and hoisting and hauling down sail, we at length
tipped our anchor and stood out to sea. It was bright starlight
when we were clear of the bay, and the lofty island lay behind us,
in its still beauty, and I gave a parting look, and bid farewell,
to the most romantic spot of earth that my eyes had ever seen.
I did then, and have ever since, felt an attachment for that island,
altogether peculiar. It was partly, no doubt, from its having been
the first land that I had seen since leaving home, and still more
from the associations which every one has connected with it in their
childhood from reading Robinson Crusoe. To this I may add the height
and romantic outline of its mountains, the beauty and freshness of
its verdure, and the extreme fertility of its soil, and its solitary
position in the midst of the wide expanse of the South Pacific,
as all concurring to give it its peculiar charm.

When thoughts of this place have occurred to me at different times,
I have endeavored to recall more particulars with regard to it.
It is situated in about 33º 30' S., and is distant a little more than
three hundred miles from Valparaiso, on the coast of Chili, which is
in the same latitude. It is about fifteen miles in length and five
in breadth. The harbor in which we anchored (called by Lord Anson,
Cumberland bay) is the only one in the island; two small bights of
land on each side of the main bay (sometimes dignified by the name
of bays) being little more than landing-places for boats. The best
anchorage is at the western side of the bay, where we lay at about
three cables' lengths from the shore, in a little more than thirty
fathoms water. This harbor is open to the N.N.E., and in fact nearly