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A Boiling Sea

Sunday, 8.—We were called early by the pilot and told we must rise and go on board. We did so and found a large number of passengers: but the wind turning, most of them went on shore. At eleven I preached to those that were left. About six it blew a storm; but we were anchored in a safe harbor, so it neither hurt nor disturbed us.

Monday, 9.—Finding there was no probability of sailing soon, we went up to Mr. P---‘s, near Passage. I preached there in the street about four to most of the inhabitants of the town. They behaved very quietly, but very few seemed either convinced or affected.

Tuesday, 10.—We had another violent storm; it made Mr. P---‘s house rock to and fro, though it was a new, strong house, and covered on all sides with hills, as well as with trees. We afterward heard that several ships were lost on the coast. Only one got into the harbor, but grievously shattered, her rigging torn in pieces, and her mainmast gone by the board.

Wednesday, 1..—I rode to Cork once more and was very fully employed all the day. The next morning we returned to Cove and about noon got out of the harbor. We immediately found the effects of the late storm, the sea still boiling like a pot. The moon set about eight, but the northern lights abundantly supplied her place. Soon after, God smoothed the face of the deep and gave us a small, fair wind.

Friday, 13.—I read over Pascal’s Thoughts. What could possibly induce such a creature as Voltaire to give such an author as this a good word, unless it was that he once wrote a satire? And so his being a satirist might atone even for his being a Christian.

Saturday, 14.—About seven we sailed into Kingroad and happily concluded our little voyage. I now rested a week at Bristol and Kingswood, preaching only morning and evening.

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