Never before had I seen a ship in so bad a condition. The fore-mast was gone by the board, which in its fall killed the mate; the bowsprit by the night-heads; on the larboard side the forecastle was stove in, near the water's edge, and almost every swell would wash overboard. The pumps were kept in constant action. To add wretchedness to the scene, the captain was so drunk that he was obliged to hang on the companion to keep himself from falling. Soon as we were aboard, the captain, intent upon his liquor, asked if we would have some brandy. Some of the crew went with him. As he came up, I asked him if he did not consider it altogether unsafe to be in such a miserable craft. He replied in an inarticulate manner, "Miserable craft; she's better than all your white pine ships, now," and reeling, fell back on the companion. We returned to our ship and left him to enjoy his peaceful security, and with a favorable breeze we lost sight of him. [274] What his fate was I know not, but I fear he speedily went to his rest, where he will remain "till the sea shall give up her dead." We had a fine voyage, with no unusual occurrence. We reached Partridge island where we took on a pilot, who soon landed us safely at St. Johns about the last of March, 1841. Here I remained several months, determined to abandon the seas. At length getting again discontented, I left my family and went to Boston to get a situation. From thence I went to New Orleans, where I remained some weeks, and shipped myself on board the Clyde, Capt. Reed, bound for Glasgow, Scotland. Nothing save the usual occurrences of sailing attended the voyage, which was speedily terminated. Arriving at Glasgow we were paid off. Glasgow, situated upon the Clyde, is the largest city in Scotland and owes its rapid and still prosperous increase to its manufacturing interest, principally, which is vast indeed. The streets are wide and generally well paved. The Cathedral is a massive building of gothic architecture, and stands upon a hill in the center of the city. The buildings are blackened by the coal smoke which hangs over the city in clouds and renders the general aspect indeed gloomy. Having nothing to do and tired of wandering around Glasgow, several of us proposed going to Edinburgh, a distance of forty miles, which was performed by stagecoach, over a hilly, though an excellently well worked road. Edinburgh is situated upon the southern shore of the Frith of Forth, two miles from the sea. Its situation[275] is indeed fine, occupying high ridges of land, and is surrounded, except on the north side, by high, craggy rocks. The streets of the old town, which is built on the two southern ridges, are narrow and dirty. The houses are often ten and eleven stories high. Those of the new town, built upon the northern ridge, are different, being unsurpassed by any in the world in regularity and elegance. A high bridge over the ravine connects the two towns.