“A fresh northwest wind was blowing as we rounded the point. We endeavored to steer a little to the north of west, to make a true west course, and threw the patent log overboard to measure the distance; but the wind rose so rapidly that the boats could not keep head to wind, and we were obliged to haul the log in. The sea continued to rise with the increasing wind, which gradually freshened to a gale, and presented an agitated surface of foaming brine; the spray, evaporating as it fell, left incrustations of salt upon our clothes, our hands and faces; and while it conveyed a prickly sensation wherever it touched the skin, was, above all, exceedingly painful to the eyes. The boats, heavily laden, struggled sluggishly at first; but when the wind freshened in its fierceness, from the density of the water, it seemed as if their bows were encountering the sledgehammers of the Titans, instead of the opposing waves of an angry sea. The wind blew so fiercely that the boats could make no headway, and I began to fear that both boats would founder. Finding that we were losing every moment, and that, with the lapse of each succeeding one, the danger increased, kept away for the northern shore, in the hope of being yet able to reach it; our arms, our clothes and skins coated with a greasy salt; and our eyes, lips, and nostrils, smarting excessively. How different was the scene before the submerging of the plain, which was ‘even as the garden of the Lord!’ “But, although the sea had assumed a threatening aspect, and the fretted mountains, sharp and incinerated, loomed terrific on either side, and salt and ashes mingled with its sands, and foetid sulphurous springs trickled down its ravines, we did not despair: awe-struck, but not terrified; fearing the worst, yet hoping for the best, we prepared to spend a dreary night upon the dreariest waste we had ever seen.” The foreign substance in the water gives it a peculiar appearance at night. Under the influence of a full moon, the sea has a strikingly bright and beautiful phosphorescent glow. The breakers dashing against the rocks, and beating against the shore, look like waves of consuming fire. The whole scene resembles a restless, turbulent sea of flame vainly trying to devour the very rocks that mark its limits! Going around the sea next morning, the rock-bound coast, and the bleak desolate hills around, look as though they might have been scorched with fire the night before. [Illustration: LOT’S WIFE.]