The grandeur of the river’s banks diminishes until near the Avon’s junction with the Severn; when the commanding height of Kingsweston-hill, adorned with the groves, lawns, and plantations of Lord Clifford’s park, rises conspicuously eminent, and engages a parting interest. We soon entered the Severn, here an expansive estuary, and so far a noble object; but deriving little importance from its shores, which, except in the neighbourhood of Aust, are a mere undulation of corn-fields and pastures. The display of cultivation, though gratifying, is certainly inferior in picturesque merit to the grand features of cliffs and mountains which distinguish the shores of PEMBROKESHIRE, and the western coast of Wales. For some time we were well entertained with our voyage; when satisfied with external objects, we found amusement in the cooped-up circle of our companions, and entered upon a general meal, without the assistance of knives or plates, with much good humour: nor was there a lack of wit, if we might judge from the continued bursts of laughter that sallied on the occasion. But the scene presently changed: the wind, at first so favourable, shifted to the opposite point, increasing from a pleasant breeze to a fresh gale; the sun no longer played on the surface of the water; the sky became overcast; and “the waves curled darkly against the vessel.” From the seamen, with looks of disappointment, we learned, that the prospect of a short voyage was at an end; and that, if the wind continued as it was, we might be kept at sea for several days: the badness of the weather increased towards evening, when a deluging rain came down, and continued the whole night. This calamity was further aggravated by a noisy old woman on board, who grated our ears with a horrible scream whenever a wave broke over the vessel, or a flash of lightning illuminated the scenery of the storm; filling up the intervals with the cheering narrative of ships that were lost in the very track of our voyage. It was to no purpose that we endeavoured to joke away her fears, or to make them less eloquent; but Time, that great resolver of difficulties, transferring the disorder of her imagination to her stomach, quieted her alarm. At length the increasing rain forced every one for shelter towards the cabin: this was a hole about two yards by one and a half; not quite the latter dimension in height, and filthy to a degree that I shall not attempt to describe: into this place as many were squeezed as it could possibly contain. Among our female companions were two genteel young Welch-women of considerable personal attractions, whose vivacity and good-nature had essentially contributed to the entertainment of the day: one of these was peculiarly bewitching; her’s was