Anchored in Funchal Roads at daylight. Kindly received by Consul Stoddard, an old friend, celebrated for his hospitality. Youngsters on shore with different friends. Leicester staying with the Scott Surtees. Brooke and I had the honour of dining with Her Majesty the Queen Dowager. [Sidenote: Feb. 24.] Duke of Saxe-Weimar, Princes Edward and Herman, Lord Northland, Major de Winton, Consul Stoddard, and a party came to visit and lunch on board. Stoddard invited us to meet the two Princes and a party at dinner, and he also got up an expedition to see the _Corral_. A dance given by the officers was spoilt by dirty weather. [Sidenote: Feb. 25.] Band landed to perform at a picnic in Mr. Stoddard’s garden. Brooke and I took our farewell dinner with Her Majesty, who, very prettily, drank health and happiness to wife and self, it being the anniversary of our wedding day, and also drank success to Brooke. [Sidenote: Feb. 26.] 12.20 A.M.--Weighed from Funchal Roads; weather cold for the latitude. [Sidenote: Feb. 27.] [Sidenote: Feb. 28.] Divine service performed in my cabin; it being still too cold for the quarter-deck, although getting warmer. Flying-fish and dolphins, as well as other indications of the tropics. Weather being fine, the youngsters commenced school in my fore-cabin. [Sidenote: Mar. 1.] Three successive good runs, 235, 238, and 234. [Sidenote: Mar. 9.] In the evening the ship was hailed by Neptune, who sent his messenger over the bows in a blaze of light; in witnessing the function the passengers got wet. [Sidenote: Mar. 10.] Neptune came on board and performed the usual foolery, 160 men underwent the operation of shaving amid much merriment and fun. [Sidenote: Mar. 11.] Westley Richards, the well-known gun maker, had an agent, by the name of Bishop; a character, he had visiting cards on which he styled himself “The Bishop of Bond Street.” He was a dog-fancier, and restored many a lady’s lost dogs. [Illustration: “_The Bishop._”] When a regiment of Guards marched through Bond Street, I often saw “the Bishop” stand in front of his shop in his white apron, presenting arms with a double-barrelled gun. He presented me with a thoroughbred Scotch terrier; of course the dog could have no other name than _Bishop_. It is difficult to take a thoroughbred across the Equator. Sailors are fond of animals, dogs in particular. After leaving Madeira, one forenoon _Bishop_ was pronounced to be mad, foaming at the mouth, and snapping at everything, there was no mistake. I was in the fore-cabin, through which he rushed; the youngsters at school, their legs dangling; but none were bitten. On his journey forward he encountered the sailmaker repairing a main-split topsail. One blow with a huge marling spike finished the poor dog. I wondered afterwards what effect he must have had on a shark’s stomach. It was a mercy no one was bitten in the school cabin. [Sidenote: Mar. 13.] Made the island of Fernando Noronha.