11th August.—On the River Derwent, in sight of Mount Wellington and Hobarton.—Though there is but one thought absorbing my mind, I must not anticipate, but tell you that after seven weeks of most awful weather we got sight of land. You may judge my thankfulness, as three weeks we had been under water on deck, nor had the daylight entered my cabin. 'Tis vain now to waste time dwelling on all the suffering of such a period with a baby at my breast, but I may express how much valuable aid I had from my humble friend Mrs. Hughes, and kind attention from Mr. Betts, who nightly stopped to speak and cheer me, sometimes, if it was tempestuous, nursing Mora or assisting to bathe her and beguile our mutual discomfort.

After reaching the point where the pilot is taken in, we had not long to wait. A fine ship was just then in sight which he had that morning left, and after some beating about, he came up with us, at sunset.

Mr. Betts hastened with the glad tidings, and I requested him to inquire if the Mary had been heard of, forgetting she had gone to Sydney.

He did not soon return, and when he appeared, although he assured me that the Mary had been long since announced at Sydney, his manner was constrained, and unlike its usual tenor.