For mine own part, I think old Chaucer hath it right in his Pardoner's Tale:-- "A likerous thing is wine, and drunkenness Is full of striving and of wretchedness.
O drunken man! disfigured is thy face, Sour is thy breath, foul art then to embrace; Thy tongue is lost, and all thine honest care, For drunkenness is very sepulture Of man's wit and his discretion." AGAMENTICUS, August 18.
The weather being clear and the heat great, last week uncle and aunt, with Rebecca and myself, and also Leonard and Sir Thomas, thought it a fitting time to make a little journey by water to the Isles of Shoals, and the Agamenticus, where dwelleth my Uncle Smith, who hath strongly pressed me to visit him.

One Caleb Powell, a seafaring man, having a good new boat, with a small cabin, did undertake to convey us.

He is a drolling odd fellow, who hath been in all parts of the world, and hath seen and read much, and, having a rare memory, is not ill company, although uncle saith one must make no small allowance for his desire of making his hearers marvel at his stories and conceits.

We sailed with a good westerly wind down the river, passing by the great salt marshes, which stretch a long way by the sea, and in which the town's people be now very busy in mowing and gathering the grass for winter's use.
Leaving on our right hand Plum Island (so called on account of the rare plums which do grow upon it), we struck into the open sea, and soon came in sight of the Islands of Shoals.

There be seven of them in all, lying off the town of Hampton on the mainland, about a league.