The morning was wet and gloomy.

Fired a gun, and hoisted the jack for a pilot; and soon after, having received one on board, we ran into the harbour and anchored.

As we approached, the scene was most beautiful, in spite of the day.

The city of Cadiz is a perfect picture as you approach it, with domes, and towers, and minarets, and Moorish-looking houses, of a beautiful white stone.

The harbour was crowded with shipping--_very thinly_ sprinkled with Yankees, who could get no freights--and a number of villages lay around the margin of the bay, and were picturesquely half hidden in the slopes of the surrounding mountains, all speaking of regenerate old Spain, and of the populousness and thrift of her most famous province of Andalusia.
Visited by the health-officer, who informed us that unless we were specially exempted, we should be quarantined for three days, for not having a certificate of health from the Spanish Consul at Martinique.