mycravatundone:

i’m going through some 19th century travel diaries of people traveling from england to australia, and there’s this diary dated 1835, by a woman called eliza taylor. she’s fascinated by flying fish and dolphins, sees seagulls (”they are like pigeons but make a similar noise to ducks”), stargazes “till tea time” with the captain and another woman passenger, describes the boatswain playing the violin very well. these two paragraphs struck me, this one she writes during some party on deck:

Their merriment accorded not with my gloomy reflections both for the past and the future. I am very melancholy this warm weather and often wonder whether in any future years I shall ever have a taste of the joys and scenes of happiness I had in my childhood. My evil genius whispers No.

(what happened to you, eliza? we won’t know. just a glimpse of her sadness in a travelogue is all we’re allowed to see)

and then, on another evening, she sees something that may be bioluminescence, or maybe just starlight:

In a fine blue sea, the foam caused by the vessel at night seems full of stars. The snow white ferment, with the golden sparkles in it is beautiful beyond description. You look over and devour it with your eyes, as you would do much etherial syllabub. Finalmente, the stars issue forth, and the Moon always more lovely the farther you get South, completed the magnificience of the imposing scene.

it’s such a lovely description, so full of wonder.