At this point the steward came to announce that dinner was served, and Mr Fraser asked if he might attend me to the cuddy.[2.03] But this I refused, both because I had no desire to be the only lady at table, and because I felt little inclination for food, and remaining where I was, I dined sumptuously on some broth and toasted bread which the Lieutenant was so obliging as to bring me. I stayed on deck during the greater part of the afternoon, and the next day Miss Hamlin joined me, on receiving assurances that Mr Ranger would count it an honour to hold himself at her service. Since then there has been but one day when we were forced by rough weather to remain below, and even Mrs Hamlin and the other ladies are now sufficiently recovered to come on deck. As for the rest of the gentlemen, they nearly all made their appearance the day after Mr Ranger, and have done their best to prove themselves an agreeable set of fellows. The weather is grown continually hotter. Miss Hamlin and I were not long in exchanging our capuchins for beaver bonnets and short cloaks, but to-day we have taken to wearing gipsy hats and India scarves, though it is mid-winter! But when we reach Bengall, so Mrs Hamlin says, we shall find that none of the ladies wear either hats or hoods when they ride abroad, but only lace caps trimmed with ribbons and flowers, as we do in the evening, and that one don’t need so much as to throw a handkerchief over one’s shoulders out of doors. Sure either the heat must be far greater than we can imagine, or the constitution of these ladies must be extremely hardy. While I pen these lines to my Amelia, our ship is lying in the Bay of Fonchial, in the Madeiras, where we remain for a week to take in water and fresh provisions, and also to give us poor passengers an opportunity of remembering that there is such a blessed thing as firm ground. Each morning we visit the land in a boat from the shore, which is constructed, so Mr Fraser informs me, in a special manner on account of the force of the waves, and ride up the beach in the oddest fashion. What do you say to a frame of boards, like the sledges of which we read in Sweden and Poland, and drawn by oxen? Two or three of the gentlemen (you’ll guess that the Lieutenant is one) refuse to ride in this machine, as a slight to their dignity, and prefer to crawl up the beach in the stifling heat. Arrived in the town, which has many very genteel houses, we spend some time on the Parade, which is here called the Praza. To me it recalls memories of the time I spent with my Amelia at Tunbridge Wells, but the trees here are orange-trees, and the company, though very polite, is nothing near so elegant as that we used to watch. Later in the day the gentlemen devise some party of pleasure, to which they invite the ladies, generally in some garden near the town, where the time passes agreeably enough, and we return to the Orford by moonlight.