 | Journal of a Residence among the Negroes in the West Indies |  |
NOVEMBER 21.
The weather continues intolerable. Boisterous waves running mountains high, with no wind, or a foul one. Dead calms by day, which prevent our making any progress; and violent storms by night, which prevent our getting any sleep.
Everything is in a state of perpetual motion. We drink our tea exactly as Tantalus did in the infernal regions; we keep bobbing at the basin for half an hour together without being able to get a drop; and certainly nobody on ship-board can doubt the truth of the proverb, "Many things fall out between the cup and the lip."
| Journal of a Residence among the Negroes in the West Indies | |