Some refreshing but heavy showers have detained us; and here I am
writing quite alone--something more than gay, for which I want a
name.

I could almost fancy myself in Nootka Sound, or on some of the
islands on the north-west coast of America. We entered by a narrow
pass through the rocks, which from this abode appear more romantic
than you can well imagine; and seal-skins hanging at the door to dry
add to the illusion.

It is indeed a corner of the world, but you would be surprised to
see the cleanliness and comfort of the dwelling. The shelves are
not only shining with pewter and queen's ware, but some articles in
silver, more ponderous, it is true, than elegant. The linen is
good, as well as white. All the females spin, and there is a loom
in the kitchen. A sort of individual taste appeared in the
arrangement of the furniture (this is not the place for imitation)
and a kindness in their desire to oblige. How superior to the apish
politeness of the towns! where the people, affecting to be well
bred, fatigue with their endless ceremony.

The mistress is a widow, her daughter is married to a pilot, and has
three cows. They have a little patch of land at about the distance
of two English miles, where they make hay for the winter, which they
bring home in a boat. They live here very cheap, getting money from
the vessels which stress of weather, or other causes, bring into
their harbour. I suspect, by their furniture, that they smuggle a
little. I can now credit the account of the other houses, which I
last night thought exaggerated.