On August 28 we received word from Captain Branscome that he had taken berths for us on the _Townshend_ packet, commanded by an old friend of his, a Captain Harrison. She was due to sail on the 1st. Accordingly, on August 30 we travelled down by Royal Mail to Falmouth, Mr. Rogers following that same noon by the _Highflyer_; spent a busy day in making some last purchases, and a sleepless night in the noisiest of hotels; and went on board soon after breakfast, to be welcomed there by Mr. Goodfellow, who had got over his parting three days before, at Plymouth, and professed himself to be in the very jolliest of spirits. At the head of the after-companion Captain Branscome met us and conducted us below, to introduce us to our quarters and be complimented on the thought and care he had bestowed in choosing them and fitting them up--for the ladies' comfort especially. He himself lodged forward, in a small double cabin which he shared with Mr. Goodfellow. I will spare the reader a description of our departure and of the passage to Jamaica, not only because they were quite uneventful (we did not even sight a' privateer), but because they have been celebrated in verse by Plinny, in a descriptive poem of five cantos and some four thousand lines, entitled "The Voyage: with an Englishwoman's Reflections on her Favourite Element," a few extracts from which I am permitted to quote-- "We sailed for Kingston in the _Townshend_ packet. The day auspicious was, and calm the heavens; Not so the scene on board--oh, what a racket! And everything on deck apparently at sixes and sevens. Mail-bags and passengers mixed up in every direction, The latter engaged with their relatives in fond farewells; On the one hand the faltering accents of affection, On the other the unpolisht seamen emitting yells, With criticisms of a Custom House official Whose action for some reason they resented as prejudicial. "At length the last farewell is said, The anchor tripped, the gangway clear'd; 'Twas five p.m. ere past Pendennis Head Forth to th' unfathomable deep we steer'd. The bo'sun piped (he wore a manly beard); And while th' attentive crew the braces trimm'd (Alluding to the ship's), and while from observation The coast receded, we with eyes be-dimm'd Indulged in feelings natural to the situation. "Albion! My Albion! So called from the hue Thy cliffs wear by the Straits of Dover-- Though darker in this neighbourhood--still adieu! Albion, adieu! I feel myself a rover. Thy sons instinctively take to the water, And so will I, albeit but a daughter." A page later, in more tripping metre (which reflects her gaiety of spirits), she describes the ship--