On the 22nd of May, the anniversary of our frigate's leaving Stopel, we got a fresh easterly wind, which carried us forward pretty quickly on the still smooth surface of the sea. On the 1st of June, when in latitude 42 deg. and longitude 201 deg., and consequently opposite the coast of Japan, we descried a red stripe in the water, about a mile long and a fathom broad. In passing over it we drew up a pail-full, and found that its colour was occasioned by an infinite number of crabs, so small as to be scarcely distinguishable by the naked eye. We now began daily to experience increasing inconveniences from the Northern climate. The sky, hitherto so serene, became gloomy and covered with storm-clouds, which seldom threatened in vain; we were, besides, enveloped in almost perpetual mists, bounding our prospect to a few fathoms. In a short time, the temperature of the air had fallen from 24 deg. to 3 deg. So sudden a change is always disagreeable, and often dangerous. We had to thank the skill and attention of our physician, Dr. Siegwald, that it did not prove so to us. Such rough weather is not common to the latitude we were in at that season; but it is peculiar to the Japanese coast even in summer. Whales and storm-birds showed themselves in great numbers, reminding us that we were hastening to the North, and were already far from the luxuriant groves of the South-Sea islands. The wind continued so favourable, that on the 7th of June we could already see the high mountains of Kamtschatka in their winter clothing. Their jagged summits reaching to the heavens, crested with everlasting snow, which glitters in the sunbeams, while their declivities are begirt with clouds, give a magnificent aspect to this coast. On the following day, we reached Awatscha Bay, and in the evening anchored in the harbour of St. Peter and St. Paul. The great peninsula of Kamtschatka, stretching to the river Anadir on the North, and South to the Kurilian Islands, bathed on the east by the ocean, and on the west by the sea of Ochotsk, is, like many men, better than its reputation. It is supposed to be the roughest and most desolate corner of the world, and yet it lies under the same latitude as England and Scotland, and is equal in size to both. The summer is indeed much shorter, but it is also much finer; and the vegetation is more luxuriant than in Great Britain. The winter lasts long, and its discomforts are increased by the quantity of snow that falls; but in the southern parts the cold is moderate; and experience has repeatedly refuted the erroneous opinion, that on account of its long duration, and the consequent curtailment of the summer season, corn cannot be efficaciously cultivated here.