“Passing the harbor of Portsmouth, with its lighthouse built upon a ledge so low that the tide sweeps over its foundation, as is the case with the famous Eddystone, at nightfall we were off the mouth of Merrimac river, yet some fifteen or twenty miles from our destined port. A few clouds that had collected about dark now dispersed, and the stars shone clear and beautiful from the heavens, while the beacon lights blazed in rival brightness from the shore. About two in the morning we approached the entrance of our port, which is situated near the mouth of a small river which intersects Cape Ann, and which, like most rivers, has a bar at its mouth. After passing the lighthouse, being within half a mile of our anchorage, the wind fell suddenly, and the rapid current swept us aground upon the highest part of the bar, where the receding tide soon left us high and dry upon the sand. Being stopped thus abruptly, we gazed about in search of some means to ‘define our position,’ which measure was presently vetoed by the rolling in of so thick a fog that in ten minutes everything in sight could have been touched with a boat-hook. Finding sight unavailing at this juncture, we resorted to sound, and commenced firing signal guns, which were heard and answered from the shore, and in a short time assistance arrived in the person of the keeper of the lighthouse, who informed us that we should not float again for six hours. Day broke upon us in this position, and having plenty of time, we despatched two ashore for provisions in the pilot’s skiff, and in a short time the sand-bar presented a singular appearance, our baggage of all kinds being strewed about upon the sand, and in close fellowship with cooking utensils, loose sails, spare baskets, boxes, rigging, &c. &c.; for we had entirely unladed the boat, for the purpose of washing and cleansing the inside from the effects of an unlucky basket of charcoal, which had been upset in the confusion consequent upon our endeavors to get into deeper water. Upon the return of our purveyors all hands displayed great activity in providing and eating breakfast. The fog still encompassed us, so that we enjoyed all the uproar and fun of the meal in our own way, as our apparent horizon was hardly more extensive than a common room. It was a memorable breakfast, that seemed much like a day’s eating condensed into a single meal, the whole being much enlivened by the cheerfulness and local anecdotes of our old friend from the lighthouse, to whom we were indebted for sundry excellent hints touching the best method of extricating vessels in difficult and dangerous situations. The tide rose very rapidly, and all the temporary embarrassments of our situation vanished with our footprints in the sand. The mounting sun soon burned up the fog, which in dispersing produced its usual singular and fantastic effects upon the rugged and precipitous shores that lay on each side; and retaining the services