Phantoms of bliss! ideal forms
of excellence! again enclose me in your magic circle, and wipe clear
from my remembrance the disappointments that reader the sympathy
painful, which experience rather increases than damps, by giving the
indulgence of feeling the sanction of reason.
Once more farewell!
LETTER XI.
I left Portoer, the little haven I mentioned, soon after I finished
my last letter. The sea was rough, and I perceived that our pilot
was right not to venture farther during a hazy night. We had agreed
to pay four dollars for a boat from Helgeraac. I mention the sum,
because they would demand twice as much from a stranger. I was
obliged to pay fifteen for the one I hired at Stromstad. When we
were ready to set out, our boatman offered to return a dollar and
let us go in one of the boats of the place, the pilot who lived
there being better acquainted with the coast. He only demanded a
dollar and a half, which was reasonable. I found him a civil and
rather intelligent man; he was in the American service several
years, during the Revolution.
I soon perceived that an experienced mariner was necessary to guide
us, for we were continually obliged to tack about, to avoid the
rocks, which, scarcely reaching to the surface of the water, could
only be discovered by the breaking of the waves over them.
