DECEMBER 1. (Monday.)
Here we are, still riding at anchor, with no better consolation than that of Klopstock’s halfdevil Abadonna; the consciousness that others are deeper damned than ourselves. Another ship belonging to the same proprietor left the West India Docks three weeks before us, and here she is still rocking cheek by jowl alongside of us,
“One writ with us in sour misfortune’s book.”