The 'Cyprus' was a particularly handy boat. As the writer had to take her round to Plymouth from Scotland, he invited an old friend, and with the help of a boy of seventeen years of age out of one of the Plymouth trawlers, left the Clyde for Kingstown, the port of call, after enjoying a few days' cruising about by way of letting everything shake into its place. It was a Tuesday morning when the start was made from Lamlash, in Arran, and the 'Camellia,' which was on her way to Stranraer, left about half an hour before. The wind was N.W. and came down off the hills in strong squalls; but the water was smooth, and under all plain sail the little vessel simply flew along. After leaving Ailsa Craig astern, the sea began to show signs of getting up, and about 5 P.M., before reaching Corsewall Point, it had begun to take such liberties, and make such encroachments on deck whenever a big curler chose to break over aft, sometimes to the depth of three inches to four inches, that it was thought advisable to heave her to and shorten sail. About 6 P.M. the helm was put down and the foresail hauled to windward, whilst a reef was taken in the mainsail, No. 3 jib set, and our ship made snug. It was a treat to see how well the yacht lay to, and it is impossible to describe the feeling of confidence it inspired, for not a drop of water was shipped, and she rode like a duck the whole time, coming up and falling off as each sea passed under her. From the time the foresheet was let draw to the time she dropped anchor in Kingstown Harbour all went well, the only incident being the writer's coming on deck at 6 A.M. to find that the boy, who was on watch, had mistaken the Morne Mountains to the north of Dundalk Bay for the south of Ireland, on the strength of which he had given up steering by compass, and was taking a course into Dundalk, which would have soon led to a disastrous end. The compass, though a spirit one, was rather sluggish, and his idea of safety was steering by the land. Wednesday night was spent at Kingstown, and with the first of the ebb the 'Cyprus' was again on her way with gaff-topsail set over all. Light flukey airs from the southward and westward helped the yacht along during the greater part of the forenoon, but these were eaten up by the sun as the day wore on, and gradually died out altogether, leaving us to drift along till the tide began to make, when, being in easy soundings on the edge of the Arklow Bank, the anchor was let go, and the yacht brought up to await the beginning of the ebb or the wooing of a breeze. The next morning--Friday--there was no wind of any kind; but the tides run strong on the east coast of Ireland, and a whole ebb meant many miles to the good. The time during this drifting was well employed in having a thorough clean down, in opening up the cabin, airing the bedding, and improving the stowage of the general cargo shipped on board, consisting of sails, luggage, provisions, and numerous other necessary items.