Having sailed four thousand miles in three weeks, since we left Chili, we reached the neighbourhood of the dangerous Archipelago. By degrees we now lost, contrary to all rule in this climate, the south-east trade-wind, which had hitherto been so favourable to us, and contrary winds from the West and North brought us very bad weather. An opinion has been hitherto entertained, that the coral islands, from lying so low and in small masses, could produce no change in the atmosphere, and that the trade-winds, to which they offered no obstruction, would continue to blow uninterruptedly in their neighbourhood. Repeated experience has, however, convinced me that this is an error, and that these little islands, at certain seasons, often cause variations from the ordinary tropical weather. On the 26th of February, we entered 16° of latitude, and 129° of longitude. The wind blew from the West: black clouds labouring upwards, covered the sky; violent and sudden gusts expended their fury on us, and lightnings flashed from every corner of the horizon. The night was really dreadful, and the tempest continued to rage, through a darkness which, but for the lightning, would have been total, while torrents of rain swept our decks. Nor did the return of light bring us much relief; when about noon the heavens cleared for a short time, and allowed us a little respite; the storm set in again with renewed violence, and for four days and nights we were condemned to struggle with this tremendous weather. It is surprising how such tempests can arise at so great a distance from land. In the ship Rurik, in this same region, at the same season of year, I have before met with similar though scarcely such furious storms. On the 2nd of March the tropical wind returned, and brought with it clearer weather. It was indeed very hot, (Reaumur's thermometer did not fall even in the night below 24,) but the whole crew continued in good health. On this evening we calculated that we were in 15° 15' latitude, and 139° 40' longitude; and just as the sun was sinking, the man at the mast-head called out that land was in sight. The pleasure of making a new discovery set all our telescopes in motion, and before night set in we plainly distinguished a very low, thickly wooded island. Since no navigator, to my knowledge, had ever been here before, and the newest charts described nothing but empty space, we conceived we had a right to consider ourselves the first discoverers, and named the island, after our ship, Predpriatie: we now tacked to stand out to sea for the night, and at break of day again made towards the island, under feelings of strong excitement. The many telescopes which our eager curiosity pointed towards its object, seemed each endued with the magical power of conveying different images to the sight. Some of us saw what others saw not, till these delusions of the imagination vanished before the conviction produced by rising columns of smoke visible to