"By dint of bribing, bullying, cajoling, and going day by day to see the state of things ordered, all my work is very nearly ready now; but those who have neglected these precautions are of course disappointed. Five hundred fathoms of chain [were] ordered by ---- some three weeks since, to be ready by the 10th without fail; he sends for it to-day--150 fathoms all they can let us have by the 15th--and how the rest is to be got, who knows? He ordered a boat a month since, and yesterday we could see nothing of her but the keel and about two planks. I could multiply instances without end. At first one goes nearly mad with vexation at these things; but one finds so soon that they are the rule, that then it becomes necessary to feign a rage one does not feel. I look upon it as the natural order of things, that if I order a thing, it will not be done--if by accident it gets done, it will certainly be done wrong; the only remedy being to watch the performance at every stage. "To-day was a grand field-day. I had steam up and tried the engine against pressure or resistance. One part of the machinery is driven by belt or strap of leather. I always had my doubts this might slip; and so it did, wildly. I had made provision for doubling it, putting on two belts instead of one. No use--off they went, slipping round and off the pulleys instead of driving the machinery. Tighten them--no use. More strength there--down with the lever--smash something, tear the belts, but get them tight--now then stand clear, on with the steam;--and the belts slip away, as if nothing held them. Men begin to look queer; the circle of quidnuncs make sage remarks. Once more--no use. I begin to know I ought to feel sheepish and beat, but somehow I feel cocky instead, I laugh and say, 'Well, I am bound to break something down'--and suddenly see. 'Oho, there's the place; get weight on there, and the belt won't slip.' With much labour, on go the belts again. 'Now then, a spar thro' there and six men's weight on; mind you're not carried away.' 'Ay, ay, sir.' But evidently no one believes in the plan. 'Hurrah, round she goes--stick to your spar. All right, shut off steam.' And the difficulty is vanquished. "This, or such as this (not always quite so bad), occurs hour after hour, while five hundred tons of coal are rattling down into the holds and bunkers, riveters are making their infernal row all round, and riggers bend the sails and fit the rigging:--a sort of Pandemonium, it appeared to young Mrs. Newall, who was here on Monday and half choked with guano; but it suits the likes of me. "_SS. Elba, River Mersey, May 17._