We had remained at the islands about a month, when the ship Humayoon, from Dundee, (McKenzie, master,) bound to Valparaiso, laden with coal, tar, and liquors, put into port to procure water and{44} beef. The captain formed an acquaintance with my husband, and, after learning the particulars of our situation, very kindly offered us a passage to Valparaiso; from whence we could, in all probability, arrive home sooner than by remaining where we were. After having procured the necessaries required, I expected the captain would at once proceed on his voyage; but, being perfectly independent, as he was sole owner of the fine ship and cargo, he protracted his stay at the settlement day after day, thereby gratifying the mirth-loving portion of the community by assembling them at different times on ship-board, to join in the merry dance. He had on board several musical instruments, which he was taking out to dispose of; and, being possessed of extraordinary musical talents, the people were perfectly delighted and entranced with specimens of his skill. He had a perfect passion for Scotch airs, which, all conceded, never before sounded half so enlivening. But pleasures, however transporting, unhappily cannot last. No chain, be it of gold, or pearl, or flowers, can bind the stubborn wings of Time, and bid him loiter on his way. On the morning of the 25th of November, he weighed anchor, and turned her bows towards the entrance.{45} I cast a last, sad, lingering look at the old Nonantum, and bade adieu to kind friends, whom, probably, I should never meet again on the journey of life, although they would be often remembered. During my sojourn at the islands, although I found kind friends, I passed many a gloomy hour. As the season approached which, from time immemorial, in dear old New England, has been observed as a day of thanksgiving and prayer,—a day, of all others, when severed families assemble under the paternal roof, to meet once again the loved friends of their youth, to tread again the paths hallowed by childhood’s earliest recollections,—the anniversary of such a day, while in this remote region, crowded my memory with reminiscences of the past, pleasurable, from the associations which they recalled, and painful, from the position which I then occupied. CHAPTER VI. Once more I found myself on board a good ship, bounding gayly over the blue waters. Captain{46} McKenzie possessed, in an eminent degree, the ability of rendering his passengers perfectly at home and happy. His crew were composed entirely of Scotchmen; and, every evening, the echo of their merry Scotch songs were wafted far over the deep sea. Captain McKenzie proposed teaching to me the Spanish language, being a perfect linguist himself. He found me far more tractable in that than in learning to take a glass of his “good Scotch whiskey,” as he termed it, to which I had taken a mortal aversion, and for which he entertained a decided preference.