This little story, which I very much condense, is most amusing, and is the work of ‘Henry Blaine, Minister of the Gospel at Tring, Herts.’ I only give it as showing the dread with which any country-bred man, at that time, put his precious body at the mercy of Father Neptune. Steam has changed all our habits, but then there were no ‘Globe Trotters,’--few, if any, climbed the Alps for amusement; the Dolomites were unknown; people had no steam-yachts and went in pursuit of perpetual summer; a cruise to the Pacific Islands and Japan was never dreamt of; there was no Mudie’s library to scatter broadcast holiday tours, for they never existed--so that we must look upon this relation of an inland-bred ‘Minister of the Gospel’ (whose long and extremely pious, but wearisome, exordia I omit) with very different eyes, to a similar one published in the present day. It is a tract of fifty-four pages, and commences, ‘In hopes of recovering that invaluable blessing, health, on Friday, August 10, 1787, I embarked on board the ship FRIENDS bound for RAMSGATE, in KENT. I had heard there was such a place; and many had raised my expectations by their reports of the efficacy of sea-bathing; and others encouraged my hopes by repeating their own experience of benefit received. By these means I was induced to determine on this little voyage. It reminded me of the never-to-be-forgotten season, when, urged by some motives, and impelled by a power unseen, but not unfelt, I entered on board that stately vessel which the Lord’s prophet saw in a storm. _Isaiah 54.--11._’ This is a sample of the tract. He then goes on to say: ‘While we waited for the time of sailing (for different purposes, I suppose), many came on board, and appeared, to me at least, as if they intended to embark with us: but they left not the harbour, but, urged by other occasions and inducements, they took leave of their friends and departed; while we, who were bound for a distant place, kept steady to our purpose, turned our backs upon home and waited patiently for the gentle breeze and driving tide to convey us to the desired port.’ We can well imagine the good man, when he got back to Tring, giving, for a long time, his soul-harrowing experiences of that memorable voyage. He should have lived in our days and have been ‘Our Special Correspondent’ on whom the editor of the newspaper relies to fill so many columns--for every detail is taken, evidently note-book in hand. Witness this: ‘When our sails were displayed, and our cable unloosed, assisted by a gentle gale, we began by degrees to view the lofty towers, the aspiring churches, and all the grandeurs of London at a distance behind us: in hopes of finding something we could not find in town, we turned our attention from the pleasures, and riches, and pomps of London; we bid farewel, for a time, to our dearest friends; we laid aside our daily and domestic cares, and cheerfully forsook the dear delights of home.’